It isn't, S thinks, as if only one of them can ever play again. He's never thought that. It just won't be theirs again, the way it used to be. Most days, it doesn't even feel like his anymore. Playing, when he does, is just habit, or like scratching an itch, getting something out of his system. He wasn't ambitious like J before, but he was passionate; that passion left him around the time that J did, fizzling out all but entirely when he lost J in a way that he thought would be far more permanent. There's love now, but no drive. It's a hobby at most, and something he's repeatedly toyed with the idea of giving up for good, simply because it seemed like it would make things easier.
With what J is saying now, he's not so sure that part is true anymore. To him, it feels like it, but just because it does doesn't mean it's true for both of them. At least they both seem to understand each other better now. He's not sure he's said anything the way he meant to, but however awkwardly, he's gotten the message across somehow. The response is just one he isn't prepared for. Somehow, he was sure that it would only hurt J to hear him play. Part of that is undoubtedly a holdover from the days when piano did nothing but breed resentment there, but not nearly all of it. S doesn't even know how he became convinced that it would just be salt in a wound, when J has never given any indication of preferring him to stop. He gifted S sheet music on Christmas, as clear a sign as any of wanting him to have this. That wouldn't make it right to flaunt it, though, and that's all S has felt like he would be doing.
"You can be nervous," he murmurs with the tiniest of smiles, an attempt at reassurance, though his composure feels increasingly tenuous with each passing moment. It's hard to see J in tears and not begin crying himself, not least when it seems like it's his fault. He fucked this up, clearly, read it all wrong. Of all the ways to have done so, though, at least this seems like something they'll be able to work their way through. Hopefully. "You don't have to rush. And it doesn't feel unfair to me, to sit and listen while you play. I like hearing you." Saying that, it almost seems for a moment like it should stand to reason that the same would be true in turn, but it's not the same, or he's convinced it isn't. J is the one who's felt like he has to hold back. S has been playing at least in some capacity all this time. "But when I've been playing and you haven't... I don't know. It seems different."
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With what J is saying now, he's not so sure that part is true anymore. To him, it feels like it, but just because it does doesn't mean it's true for both of them. At least they both seem to understand each other better now. He's not sure he's said anything the way he meant to, but however awkwardly, he's gotten the message across somehow. The response is just one he isn't prepared for. Somehow, he was sure that it would only hurt J to hear him play. Part of that is undoubtedly a holdover from the days when piano did nothing but breed resentment there, but not nearly all of it. S doesn't even know how he became convinced that it would just be salt in a wound, when J has never given any indication of preferring him to stop. He gifted S sheet music on Christmas, as clear a sign as any of wanting him to have this. That wouldn't make it right to flaunt it, though, and that's all S has felt like he would be doing.
"You can be nervous," he murmurs with the tiniest of smiles, an attempt at reassurance, though his composure feels increasingly tenuous with each passing moment. It's hard to see J in tears and not begin crying himself, not least when it seems like it's his fault. He fucked this up, clearly, read it all wrong. Of all the ways to have done so, though, at least this seems like something they'll be able to work their way through. Hopefully. "You don't have to rush. And it doesn't feel unfair to me, to sit and listen while you play. I like hearing you." Saying that, it almost seems for a moment like it should stand to reason that the same would be true in turn, but it's not the same, or he's convinced it isn't. J is the one who's felt like he has to hold back. S has been playing at least in some capacity all this time. "But when I've been playing and you haven't... I don't know. It seems different."