S nods in turn, lifting one hand for a moment to smooth it over J's hair. Even with the dim awareness he has that it's ridiculous to be doing all of this at his work, he isn't about to hold back for a second. No one is here; no one is going to come in. In moments like this, it always tends to feel like the rest of the world may as well not exist, anyway. It's quiet, peaceful in spite of the turbulent emotions they've both been overwhelmed by, and it's just the two of them, the way it always should have been. He never should have let anything take this from them. It wasn't all on him, he knows that, but it's still too easy to think of the many, many things he could have done differently and the pain it might have spared them. Keeping his time at the piano here to himself was meant to be a way of combating that. He got that horribly wrong, too, but at least they have a chance to start to put it right now. Whatever it took to get them here, this feels like a good step.

"Okay," he echoes, hand finding J's again to give it a gentle squeeze. That has to be a good thing, too, J wanting to, even if he knows it's not as simple as just that. Maybe it never will be simple again, a thought that admittedly makes him a little sad, when it used to be the simplest thing in their lives. Through the chaos of his losing his parents, their moving in together, barely having enough money to get by, worrying about grades and college, the pressures of staying closeted, music was always there, simple and easy and right. Now, there's so much baggage attached to it instead. Still, however much the fact of that might hurt, it's better to let it become something new and figure out what that might be than to wish for things to go back to the way they were.

"How soon, do you think?" he asks. J might be trying to leave this at least somewhat in his hands, but it isn't a decision he feels wholly comfortable making. There's too much messy history there, and ultimately, it's about what J feels up to, anyway. "Later this week? Or next?"