S shakes his head, though it's not so much outright disagreement as not wanting J to lay all the blame for this on himself. It was both of them; it took both of them to get here. The same has been true from the start, really. Maybe J shouldn't have been snappish and competitive, but S shouldn't have kept holding on to something already slipping away, trying to get things back to the way they used to be. There's no going backwards. He knows now that that's a good thing. Painful sometimes, yes, but in a way that lets them heal and figure out what to do next. Now is a prime example of that. They're both a goddamn mess, S still in tears, even if they come more quietly, but they're putting right something they've both been getting wrong. While he doesn't want to get his hopes up, doesn't even know what he would be hoping for, it still feels like there's the tiniest seed of something positive here, coaxed to life through this months-long misunderstanding.
"I should have told you, too," he murmurs, tilting his head to try to meet J's eyes again, even if his vision is blurry. "I should have asked you how you felt. You hate when I decide things for you, anyway." The last, he means to be as much of a joke as he can muster right now, something to lighten the mood for J just a tiny bit. Of course, that has historically backfired just as often as his deciding things for J has, but right now, it feels worth it. They're okay. S could never touch a piano again and they would still be okay, but it might not have to come to that after all. He doesn't know what it means for himself, but there's possibility there where that wasn't before, and that goes a long way all on its own.
Gentler this time, he shakes his head again, fingers still idly running through J's hair. "It's not all true," he adds. "And it's not your fault." He didn't really play when J was gone, either, he wants to say, something that J couldn't have had any bearing on one way or the other, but S suspects it wouldn't be received the way he meant it. Better to focus on what they can do here and now. "I was just as wrong as you were. And I'm glad I was wrong, too."
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"I should have told you, too," he murmurs, tilting his head to try to meet J's eyes again, even if his vision is blurry. "I should have asked you how you felt. You hate when I decide things for you, anyway." The last, he means to be as much of a joke as he can muster right now, something to lighten the mood for J just a tiny bit. Of course, that has historically backfired just as often as his deciding things for J has, but right now, it feels worth it. They're okay. S could never touch a piano again and they would still be okay, but it might not have to come to that after all. He doesn't know what it means for himself, but there's possibility there where that wasn't before, and that goes a long way all on its own.
Gentler this time, he shakes his head again, fingers still idly running through J's hair. "It's not all true," he adds. "And it's not your fault." He didn't really play when J was gone, either, he wants to say, something that J couldn't have had any bearing on one way or the other, but S suspects it wouldn't be received the way he meant it. Better to focus on what they can do here and now. "I was just as wrong as you were. And I'm glad I was wrong, too."