J closes his eyes, trying to make himself breathe more deeply, think more clearly. S is right, he realizes. Once again, J simply hasn't told him. He's always so sure in the moment that keeping it to himself is better, that there's no use in communicating these things. It's not that he thinks S will be upset with him or think less of him anymore, or that he thinks S doesn't deserve to know. He just doesn't see the point in debating things that can't be changed. That always seems like the right choice until he's reminded it is. If he were better at keeping it contained, that would be one thing, and really only when it's something that doesn't particularly impact them. Whether he likes it or not, though, this does, even if he can't quite articulate it, and it's not fair to stand here upset and apologizing and making S guess why.
That's especially so when S does what J does, too, assumes it's his own fault. They both do it, but it hurts J more coming from S, his heart constricting at those words. It's nothing like the past, but it feels familiar, and he doesn't want that. He can't bear that. "No," he says again, quick, shaking his head once more. "You didn't." He upset himself. All of this is his own fault, from the things he did that brought him here to his own inability to react rationally to that. That's part of what hurts so much. It didn't have to be like this. They could have shared this for the rest of their lives, but he cut all of it short, left it jagged and raw and unresolved and impossible to fix, and he can't help feeling guilty for feeling that way. Everything else in his life, everything outside his own head, is wonderful. Letting this go is one cost of that, and it's not fair or right to be upset about that.
He doesn't know how to say this. He doesn't know how to put it into words that will make sense of it for both of them, or how to ask S if they're alone, suddenly irrationally afraid it would sound like a threat. He's been doing better the last couple months, and it's overwhelming to find himself here again, anxious and unable to find his voice. He swallows hard, eyes squeezing tight shut, jaw clenching as he opens them again, looking wide-eyed to S. Please. "It's okay," he manages, "I'm —" He's not though. He stops himself, breathes deep, forces himself to answer more honestly. "I am upset." This is so much harder than it probably should be, but he can't help the difficulty of it when he feels ashamed for reacting this way at all. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to make it harder for S to play. "Not at you. Not with you. It's me. Just me."
no subject
That's especially so when S does what J does, too, assumes it's his own fault. They both do it, but it hurts J more coming from S, his heart constricting at those words. It's nothing like the past, but it feels familiar, and he doesn't want that. He can't bear that. "No," he says again, quick, shaking his head once more. "You didn't." He upset himself. All of this is his own fault, from the things he did that brought him here to his own inability to react rationally to that. That's part of what hurts so much. It didn't have to be like this. They could have shared this for the rest of their lives, but he cut all of it short, left it jagged and raw and unresolved and impossible to fix, and he can't help feeling guilty for feeling that way. Everything else in his life, everything outside his own head, is wonderful. Letting this go is one cost of that, and it's not fair or right to be upset about that.
He doesn't know how to say this. He doesn't know how to put it into words that will make sense of it for both of them, or how to ask S if they're alone, suddenly irrationally afraid it would sound like a threat. He's been doing better the last couple months, and it's overwhelming to find himself here again, anxious and unable to find his voice. He swallows hard, eyes squeezing tight shut, jaw clenching as he opens them again, looking wide-eyed to S. Please. "It's okay," he manages, "I'm —" He's not though. He stops himself, breathes deep, forces himself to answer more honestly. "I am upset." This is so much harder than it probably should be, but he can't help the difficulty of it when he feels ashamed for reacting this way at all. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to make it harder for S to play. "Not at you. Not with you. It's me. Just me."