It's a start, enough to make J feel heard and a little relieved. They're talking. With how long he's been here, it's easy sometimes to forget what a big difference that makes, but it does. They don't have to keep these things hidden. If they both have thoughts they don't share, he figures that's normal, and he prefers to have some measure of space and privacy, but he's more comfortable with it now when he has things to say. For a long time, it wasn't difficult at all to talk openly with S, but he's had to relearn how to be open at all. Even so, they're talking. J squeezes S slightly again, kisses his hair once more.
"It does," he agrees. They have a bad tendency, he knows, to let things sit too long. That's mostly on him. He can't fault S for being worried about how he'll handle things, even if J's said before that they both have to talk. It can't be easy, dating him. He knew that from the moment that first day here let him start to settle a little, when he promised to try. "Every time we... leave things out, it builds up so big. If there's anything else we're avoiding, we should really just have it out now and get all the crying over with."
It comes out wry, which is how he intends it. There probably will always be something. Their lives have been too complicated for anything else. Still, his voice softens. "Hyunie, I know I don't have to. I wouldn't say I want to try if it weren't true. That wouldn't be fair. And it doesn't have to be all at once, if you're... worried about how I'll react." It's fair. It hurts to think of S feeling that way, not simply because it's justified, but because it sounds to J like a lonely way to feel. Even so, he knows it's fair. If S hadn't talked him down that day and if he hadn't been too frozen with panic to do anything but stay put, he might not be here right now. For the most part, his existence hasn't felt quite that tenuous in a long time. Even in the late winter, when he felt like a numb and empty shell again, he didn't so much want to die as feel like he didn't quite exist and, occasionally, like it might be alright if he didn't. It won't be as bad as it was, he's sure of that. If he thought it would be anything like that, he would agree to keep things the way they are and stop pushing. But now that he has some idea of how S must be feeling about this, he's all the more intent on making this happen. He's left S alone too many times; he won't do it again, not when he's painfully familiar with how much it hurts to feel alone even beside the person he most loves.
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"It does," he agrees. They have a bad tendency, he knows, to let things sit too long. That's mostly on him. He can't fault S for being worried about how he'll handle things, even if J's said before that they both have to talk. It can't be easy, dating him. He knew that from the moment that first day here let him start to settle a little, when he promised to try. "Every time we... leave things out, it builds up so big. If there's anything else we're avoiding, we should really just have it out now and get all the crying over with."
It comes out wry, which is how he intends it. There probably will always be something. Their lives have been too complicated for anything else. Still, his voice softens. "Hyunie, I know I don't have to. I wouldn't say I want to try if it weren't true. That wouldn't be fair. And it doesn't have to be all at once, if you're... worried about how I'll react." It's fair. It hurts to think of S feeling that way, not simply because it's justified, but because it sounds to J like a lonely way to feel. Even so, he knows it's fair. If S hadn't talked him down that day and if he hadn't been too frozen with panic to do anything but stay put, he might not be here right now. For the most part, his existence hasn't felt quite that tenuous in a long time. Even in the late winter, when he felt like a numb and empty shell again, he didn't so much want to die as feel like he didn't quite exist and, occasionally, like it might be alright if he didn't. It won't be as bad as it was, he's sure of that. If he thought it would be anything like that, he would agree to keep things the way they are and stop pushing. But now that he has some idea of how S must be feeling about this, he's all the more intent on making this happen. He's left S alone too many times; he won't do it again, not when he's painfully familiar with how much it hurts to feel alone even beside the person he most loves.