At least on that last part, the two of them are entirely in agreement. It was true for S long ago, too, from the very beginning, but it's only become truer this past year. Between getting this impossible chance to have a life with J again and having spent the last year or so believing that giving up the piano was the best thing he could do, he's acutely aware of both parts of that — that he wants this, and he wants it with or without music. From where he's standing, he didn't walk away from it because he felt forced into it or because he thought J would want that of him. He chose it for himself, and even when he sometimes desperately missed playing, he was no less content and knows he would have stayed that way. It doesn't matter if he makes music or not, if they have money or they're flat broke, if they're out or closeted. A life with J is all he's ever really wanted. Everything else is an incredible bonus, nothing he takes lightly but nothing that would ever begin to change his mind, either.
As for who deserves what, he's not sure that's something he can determine. He is sure, however, that he doesn't care. It's not about that and it never has been. Likewise, he can say without hesitation that J does deserve better than the world gave him, and that for his own part, he feels the way he feels, an unshakable, instinctive adoration that's followed him since they were children, long before he knew the depth of or had the words to define it. They know what they want, and what they want is each other. That, as far as he's concerned, is the beginning and the end of it.
"Good," he murmurs, voice little more than an exhale, any attempt at levity falling completely short. As much as he doesn't want to put any distance between them, he shifts just slightly, enough that he can turn his head and look at J, one hand lifting to J's cheek to brush away a few stray tears. "Because you'd have it either way. I couldn't change it if I wanted to, and I'd never want to." Not for the first time and almost certainly not for the last, he thinks that if nothing has made that happen yet, then nothing ever will. "It's all I want, too. With or without music. Just this. You."
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As for who deserves what, he's not sure that's something he can determine. He is sure, however, that he doesn't care. It's not about that and it never has been. Likewise, he can say without hesitation that J does deserve better than the world gave him, and that for his own part, he feels the way he feels, an unshakable, instinctive adoration that's followed him since they were children, long before he knew the depth of or had the words to define it. They know what they want, and what they want is each other. That, as far as he's concerned, is the beginning and the end of it.
"Good," he murmurs, voice little more than an exhale, any attempt at levity falling completely short. As much as he doesn't want to put any distance between them, he shifts just slightly, enough that he can turn his head and look at J, one hand lifting to J's cheek to brush away a few stray tears. "Because you'd have it either way. I couldn't change it if I wanted to, and I'd never want to." Not for the first time and almost certainly not for the last, he thinks that if nothing has made that happen yet, then nothing ever will. "It's all I want, too. With or without music. Just this. You."