It's a start. However awful and huge this has felt, S knows that's all it is. They still haven't acted on it, after all; he hasn't shown J the scars under his shirt, or talked about the wounds or his recovery from them in any kind of detail. Even trying to take to heart what J has told him, it still scares him a little, the idea that it might prove to be too much after all, the damage that might do. It won't be like it was that first day, he does believe that, and it won't be because of him, which he's trying to believe, but it still might be bad. Knowing would be better than not knowing, freeing him of the need to have to guess and hide, but there's safety, too, in leaving it unaddressed, staving off whatever reaction might come, not having to see the way J looks at him change.
Still, this is something, a better place to be than they were in before, however awful he feels. He meant it when he said that he hated feeling like he couldn't talk about it at all. Some of it, he wasn't aware of — how bothered he was, for one, and how afraid — but he found himself thinking on more than one occasion that it felt wrong not to be able to talk about that chapter of his life at all. Given what brought it about, it will never be easy, but he would so much rather talk to J than not. Keeping anything back from him has always felt wrong. That's probably part of why he didn't let himself see what he was doing that way.
"Yeah," he agrees, still frowning a little, though he leans his forehead against J's, savoring the gentle brush of fingers through his hair. Such simple gestures were exactly what he so badly longed for back then — someone to hold his hand or stroke his hair, to stay at his side when he tried to make himself eat something or when he was too grief-ridden and tired even to get out of bed. He thought losing his parents the way he did was the worst thing that could happen to him, but at least he had that then, J with him every step of the way. At least he can have a little of that now. "I don't know what comes next, but it's a start."
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Still, this is something, a better place to be than they were in before, however awful he feels. He meant it when he said that he hated feeling like he couldn't talk about it at all. Some of it, he wasn't aware of — how bothered he was, for one, and how afraid — but he found himself thinking on more than one occasion that it felt wrong not to be able to talk about that chapter of his life at all. Given what brought it about, it will never be easy, but he would so much rather talk to J than not. Keeping anything back from him has always felt wrong. That's probably part of why he didn't let himself see what he was doing that way.
"Yeah," he agrees, still frowning a little, though he leans his forehead against J's, savoring the gentle brush of fingers through his hair. Such simple gestures were exactly what he so badly longed for back then — someone to hold his hand or stroke his hair, to stay at his side when he tried to make himself eat something or when he was too grief-ridden and tired even to get out of bed. He thought losing his parents the way he did was the worst thing that could happen to him, but at least he had that then, J with him every step of the way. At least he can have a little of that now. "I don't know what comes next, but it's a start."