S feels pretty stupid now for how unexpected the very fact of that is. Until today, he wouldn't have thought J would want to hear him play, and certainly not that he would be so touched by it. As much as it's hurt to get here, though, old worries laid bare, this might just be the best possible outcome. Forehead resting against J's, he nods just enough that he won't have to pull away to do so, fingers finding J's again, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. At least the first part of what he's said isn't surprising, as much as it hurts to hear. S still doesn't know what happened there, what changed, only that J went from being anxious but confident to just anxious. He would find a way to change that if he could, but he doesn't want to make it sound like he preferred J then. It's for J's sake that he wishes he could find a way to bring that back, not his own.
"I miss when you did, too," he admits, leaning in to press a kiss to J's cheek. "But I'll just have to believe in you enough for both of us." He does; he always has. Even when they were children, there was a part of him that wanted to protect J, but a part that was awed by him, and by getting to be around him. For S, that's never changed. No matter what either of them chooses to do next, whether the piano is part of it or not, he knows that will never change.
Taking a breath, he weighs his words for a moment. The last thing he wants is to make them both even more emotional again instead of helping them settle down, but he can't hear something like that and not address it. "And it... means a lot to me that it means a lot to you," he says, nose scrunching a little at the awkwardness of how it comes out. There's no good way to say it, really, but it's true. It means the world to have J sit here beside him, wanting him to play, not making it a source of arguments or resentment anymore but instead saying he's grateful for it. S meant what he said before, that he didn't know how much he missed this, that he didn't let himself. He could never touch a piano again after this, and it would still feel like something has been set right, put back the way it should have been. "Really. I... Knowing that you want that..."
no subject
"I miss when you did, too," he admits, leaning in to press a kiss to J's cheek. "But I'll just have to believe in you enough for both of us." He does; he always has. Even when they were children, there was a part of him that wanted to protect J, but a part that was awed by him, and by getting to be around him. For S, that's never changed. No matter what either of them chooses to do next, whether the piano is part of it or not, he knows that will never change.
Taking a breath, he weighs his words for a moment. The last thing he wants is to make them both even more emotional again instead of helping them settle down, but he can't hear something like that and not address it. "And it... means a lot to me that it means a lot to you," he says, nose scrunching a little at the awkwardness of how it comes out. There's no good way to say it, really, but it's true. It means the world to have J sit here beside him, wanting him to play, not making it a source of arguments or resentment anymore but instead saying he's grateful for it. S meant what he said before, that he didn't know how much he missed this, that he didn't let himself. He could never touch a piano again after this, and it would still feel like something has been set right, put back the way it should have been. "Really. I... Knowing that you want that..."