J nods, small and quick, heart stinging but soothed. "I didn't know if it ever would again," he says, his voice soft, as much from how wrung out he is by all the crying as from a kind of nervousness that comes with talking about these things. S will listen well, he knows, but there's something almost superstitious in his head about it, like he'll undermine their good work if he acknowledges certain kinds of progress. He bites his lip, shrugging ever so slightly. "It's still so complicated, and I was so worried. I thought maybe we could never sit comfortably like this again. It counts for a lot."
For a little while, he felt alright about playing — better than alright when he was actually at the piano, though he restricted himself to simple pieces for brief whiles at Kagura — but a spell of his old moods and the closing of Kagura have put a dent in that. It's better than it was, but having not had the chance in a while, he's feeling the uncertainty again. At least now he has concrete proof that he can play without it being a problem. He just isn't sure what happens if he lets himself do more, if he finds a way to play more often, if he ever tried to write again. He's not sure he should want to or if he does want to or if he even could. In spite of everything this last year, though, he also still feels like he's trying to figure out who he even is. Music defined him for so long, and he doesn't have anything like that anymore. Photography has, mercifully, stayed simply a hobby — one he's been fairly passionate about studying, but not all-consuming, just enjoyable. He doesn't really know any other way to pursue something, is all. And now the only thing in his life that really fills his days, his attention, his dreams, is S, and he can't be that. Loving S helps to shape who he is, and he builds his future around that, but it's not his whole identity, nor could it be. But to let music be that again would be to court disaster. Maybe it's dramatic to consider it as something that could be dangerous. Certainly, since he came here, he hasn't felt any kind of an impulse to harm anyone other than himself. But he's not sure it's all that dramatic, and it's not something worth taking big risks on.
S isn't wrong entirely. He has to admit that. If S truly pursued playing and J didn't even let himself try, he'd be jealous, and that would be a problem. After all, before this, when he was first feeling that way, he knew it was his own inadequacy that upset him. Surely the same would be true if the thing restraining him were madness rather than mediocrity. But he also knows S enough to know that it's unlikely he'd ever seek out the kind of career that would make J really envious, and maybe with it being a slightly less fraught subject in at least one way, he'll feel better equipped to keep trying, too. Besides, they're better equipped in other ways, he's certain of that. He may have kept this to himself, but he's improved, he knows he has, at telling S when something's wrong. If he can maintain that honesty, they'll be okay.
"Ah," he says after a moment, shaking his head, "but how do you feel? You missed it, you said. Was it good?"
no subject
For a little while, he felt alright about playing — better than alright when he was actually at the piano, though he restricted himself to simple pieces for brief whiles at Kagura — but a spell of his old moods and the closing of Kagura have put a dent in that. It's better than it was, but having not had the chance in a while, he's feeling the uncertainty again. At least now he has concrete proof that he can play without it being a problem. He just isn't sure what happens if he lets himself do more, if he finds a way to play more often, if he ever tried to write again. He's not sure he should want to or if he does want to or if he even could. In spite of everything this last year, though, he also still feels like he's trying to figure out who he even is. Music defined him for so long, and he doesn't have anything like that anymore. Photography has, mercifully, stayed simply a hobby — one he's been fairly passionate about studying, but not all-consuming, just enjoyable. He doesn't really know any other way to pursue something, is all. And now the only thing in his life that really fills his days, his attention, his dreams, is S, and he can't be that. Loving S helps to shape who he is, and he builds his future around that, but it's not his whole identity, nor could it be. But to let music be that again would be to court disaster. Maybe it's dramatic to consider it as something that could be dangerous. Certainly, since he came here, he hasn't felt any kind of an impulse to harm anyone other than himself. But he's not sure it's all that dramatic, and it's not something worth taking big risks on.
S isn't wrong entirely. He has to admit that. If S truly pursued playing and J didn't even let himself try, he'd be jealous, and that would be a problem. After all, before this, when he was first feeling that way, he knew it was his own inadequacy that upset him. Surely the same would be true if the thing restraining him were madness rather than mediocrity. But he also knows S enough to know that it's unlikely he'd ever seek out the kind of career that would make J really envious, and maybe with it being a slightly less fraught subject in at least one way, he'll feel better equipped to keep trying, too. Besides, they're better equipped in other ways, he's certain of that. He may have kept this to himself, but he's improved, he knows he has, at telling S when something's wrong. If he can maintain that honesty, they'll be okay.
"Ah," he says after a moment, shaking his head, "but how do you feel? You missed it, you said. Was it good?"