Although it's hardly a revelation in itself, something they've talked about enough for him to have already been aware of it, S still finds himself slightly surprised by what J says. Until now, he never considered it like that, the two of them, as they've so often done, winding up in the same place, just taking entirely different routes to get there. J, he knows, has been worried about what might happen if he leaned wholeheartedly into music again; as much as S trusts him, he can't blame J for not feeling secure in that. For himself, it's just seemed easier to keep it at a distance. He hasn't loved it enough to feel like he was losing anything in not pursuing it anymore, but he hasn't let himself love it, either. This, here, despite how emotional they've both been, is the first time in a long time he's felt even a fraction of what he used to when they played with or for each other.

It's still hard to know how to go forward or what he wants. Even when things were at their best, he never really had J's ambition, and he has even less interest in acclaim now than he did back then. It wouldn't feel right to stoke that fire. Any playing he does will be for himself, for them. That's all he ever really cared about anyway.

"We both will," he murmurs, giving J's hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out together." Maybe that's the piece that's been missing for both of them, that's made this feel so insurmountable. They've both tried to encourage each other when they could, but if having this together seemed so off-limits, it's no wonder he's been at such a loss. "I really have missed this."