Gently clasping S's hand, J closes his eyes, letting the words sweep over him with all the hurt and gratitude they bring. It would be nice if he could just say that of course he does, of course he wants to hear S play, just as he did when they were kids. It would be nice, but it would be ridiculous. He's blind to a lot of things, but it's impossible for J to be oblivious to this. He's too keenly aware of the damage he caused before not to understand why S isn't used to this anymore, why he couldn't have assumed that J would want this, no matter how J has tried to encourage him since he came here. Even with that, after all, there must be a difference between knowing J accepts his playing and understanding J would want to hear it. It hurts that he caused this, but at least maybe this means they've moved past it somewhat.

"I do," he murmurs. "I have for a long time. I'm sorry I didn't say so." He has to bite his lip to keep himself from continuing. There's no point in saying again that he didn't want to pressure S or that S doesn't have to play for him after this if he decides he doesn't want to. They've covered that, and, anyway, it's pretty clear that S is perfectly willing to play now they've crossed that bridge. For that matter, it's probably ridiculous to keep apologizing, but he can't help it. It's regrettable that he kept it to himself for so long. He just has to hope that, next time, he actually learns from this.

He has learned, he thinks, no matter what he said before. Maybe it's less than he'd like, but it's happening. "It's better, you know," he adds after a moment. "I don't know if I'll ever feel like I did before, but... you help me believe in myself a little more. And maybe this —" He gestures to the piano briefly with his free hand, bringing it back to cover S's a moment later. "Won't be either, but... this feels good."