At first, before he's really taken anything in, S wants to apologize, to reassure, to tell J that it isn't stupid. Whatever music used to be for them, it's so fraught now in so many different ways. The way it came between them, the things it contributed to driving J to do — no matter how much better everything is here or how far behind them all of that is, none of that can ever just be forgotten. For J to be emotional now is reasonable, and about what S would have expected. He just hates being the cause of it, especially when it could have been so easily avoided. Talking about it, on the rare occasion the subject has come up, is one thing. Having J walk in not knowing he would be at the piano is another entirely.
The more J says, though, the less S can make sense of it. Without pulling away, both arms around J now, he frowns a little, brow furrowing in confusion. "You're upset because I stopped?" he asks, quiet but confused. "I... I stopped because I didn't want to upset you." Little as he can comprehend all of this, it still comes down to the fact that he misstepped, and that all of this could have been avoided if he hadn't played. No matter how much he misses it, it doesn't feel right for it just to be his, like he's just showing off the fact that he gets to do something that J doesn't allow himself anymore. He would rather encourage J to get back to it, if he ever feels like he can.
Despite the things that J has said when they've talked about this before, he just can't reconcile what it sounds like J is saying with what's been in his head. He'll have to wait for clarity, though it at least helps to have J close in the meantime, to feel him warm and solid and holding on in turn. If the past year has taught him anything — well, it's taught him a lot of things, really, but among them is the fact that, although it helped bring them together, their relationship doesn't need to be bound together by piano. Even if neither one of them ever plays a note again, S truly believes they'll be fine. After the way they fell apart before, that means a hell of a lot.
no subject
The more J says, though, the less S can make sense of it. Without pulling away, both arms around J now, he frowns a little, brow furrowing in confusion. "You're upset because I stopped?" he asks, quiet but confused. "I... I stopped because I didn't want to upset you." Little as he can comprehend all of this, it still comes down to the fact that he misstepped, and that all of this could have been avoided if he hadn't played. No matter how much he misses it, it doesn't feel right for it just to be his, like he's just showing off the fact that he gets to do something that J doesn't allow himself anymore. He would rather encourage J to get back to it, if he ever feels like he can.
Despite the things that J has said when they've talked about this before, he just can't reconcile what it sounds like J is saying with what's been in his head. He'll have to wait for clarity, though it at least helps to have J close in the meantime, to feel him warm and solid and holding on in turn. If the past year has taught him anything — well, it's taught him a lot of things, really, but among them is the fact that, although it helped bring them together, their relationship doesn't need to be bound together by piano. Even if neither one of them ever plays a note again, S truly believes they'll be fine. After the way they fell apart before, that means a hell of a lot.