After all the crying and the wild emotions, even the best outcomes leave J feeling small and fragile. It's hard not to be overcome by the moment, lost in how S touches him, gentle and absent; even if he hadn't said that just now, J would feel it, how loved he is. Before they met, J didn't know what that could feel like, having someone at his side no matter what.

He hasn't known either, all year, what he wants. It's hard to know. There's been so much to work through and against, and so much of what he loved most in his life has been tainted in some way or another. He was so sure for so long of who he was and who he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. Figuring out how to live with that while not wholly distracted by his own mind falling apart is a struggle, but he's trying. "I love you," he whispers, voice thick, and swallows hard. "You'll figure it out. Whatever you find yourself wanting, I'm here."

S did that for him, after all, practically from the moment they met. He had a faith in J that J has never understood, and he believed in J even when J was breaking down, losing his own certainty. Changing their future isn't as simple as just willing it to be, as announcing his intentions, but it's a start, and he's determined to do better.