That part, at least, is easy. Just having permission to get closer would have been enough for the relief to start to outweigh everything else, and being asked to do so makes it even more so. And while he does kind of want to sit, even if it's just on the floor for lack of anywhere else, he doesn't want to make J wait, not after a request like that. They can figure that out a little later. For now, he nods, then steps in toward J, free arm wrapping around him to hold him close, S's eyes falling shut for a moment. He's sad, too, and it probably is stupid, but at least there's this. Whatever else might be wrong right now, not everything is. It's not going to do any real damage. Having anything that pertains to this subject come up is never pleasant, but they'll be alright.
Ultimately, that's all that really matters. S would readily never touch a piano again if that were what it took to keep this. It would hurt, but it would be worth it. He half-wonders if that's where this is going, but he knows better than to ask about it outright, especially when J is, okay or not, already shaken. Reassurance is most important. Anything else can come after.
"You don't need to be sorry," he murmurs into J's shoulder, the words instinctive but true. Again, he thinks that J didn't even do anything but stop by so they could walk home together. Despite the probable contradiction in his own logic, S still hates that he likely ruined that sweet gesture by choosing exactly the wrong time to sit and play for a while.
He doesn't mean to say that. Standing there, idly smoothing his hand along J's back, he doesn't really mean to say anything else yet. The words that follow spill out before S even realizes it, some old insecurity bringing them forth, his voice even quieter now, unsure. "Does it... Does it really upset you that much? Hearing me play?"
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Ultimately, that's all that really matters. S would readily never touch a piano again if that were what it took to keep this. It would hurt, but it would be worth it. He half-wonders if that's where this is going, but he knows better than to ask about it outright, especially when J is, okay or not, already shaken. Reassurance is most important. Anything else can come after.
"You don't need to be sorry," he murmurs into J's shoulder, the words instinctive but true. Again, he thinks that J didn't even do anything but stop by so they could walk home together. Despite the probable contradiction in his own logic, S still hates that he likely ruined that sweet gesture by choosing exactly the wrong time to sit and play for a while.
He doesn't mean to say that. Standing there, idly smoothing his hand along J's back, he doesn't really mean to say anything else yet. The words that follow spill out before S even realizes it, some old insecurity bringing them forth, his voice even quieter now, unsure. "Does it... Does it really upset you that much? Hearing me play?"