It should reassure J, he thinks, that at least neither of them was conscious of that. Right now, though, it doesn't do much, distracted as he is by the fact that he's tearing up suddenly without knowing quite what part of this is to blame. He rests his hand over the scar, feeling the warmth of S's skin; the texture might be different, but the warmth is the same, and he needs a moment to steady himself.
"I was," he starts, unsure how to finish. "Everything was so much. It didn't occur to me. Very little did. I — I don't think it would have mattered then." He's fairly certain that, the way he felt that day, he wouldn't have heard any difference. As it is, that part of him is still very much lurking in his mind, doubting there is a difference. The surgery scars, after all, wouldn't be there if not for the ones J left on his own. Now, though, things are slightly different. The facts are all the same, but what they spell out has changed somewhat in his eyes, and having S love and trust him all this time helps to soften some of the edges. It still hurts, all of this does, but it's not the pain it was before.
"I thought I did that," he mumbles. He nearly closes his eyes, but he has the strong sense that, if he does, he'll see things he doesn't want to. Even so, his vision blurs enough with him staring at some vague point on S's skin that he doesn't see much anyway. "It scared me. But even if I'd known... I was so miserable. It wouldn't have made a difference. But now..." He lifts his hand slightly again, fingertips grazing the scar again, running slowly down the length of it. "This is why you're alive. This one saved you. So it's okay, right?"
He doesn't mean for it to be a question. It isn't, quite. What he means is that, to him, that's the difference, and as hard as it still is for him to stomach what he did, he wants to believe that he can see something good here — not just something to endure or to get used to, but a reminder that S lived. But he's not sure that's his call to make. They're S's scars, S's fight. He lived through it, not J. Throat tightening, he shakes his head. He's not going to accustom himself to the sight of these all at once, but even if he's teary-eyed, he's not nearly as emotional or as upset as he thinks they both feared he would be.
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"I was," he starts, unsure how to finish. "Everything was so much. It didn't occur to me. Very little did. I — I don't think it would have mattered then." He's fairly certain that, the way he felt that day, he wouldn't have heard any difference. As it is, that part of him is still very much lurking in his mind, doubting there is a difference. The surgery scars, after all, wouldn't be there if not for the ones J left on his own. Now, though, things are slightly different. The facts are all the same, but what they spell out has changed somewhat in his eyes, and having S love and trust him all this time helps to soften some of the edges. It still hurts, all of this does, but it's not the pain it was before.
"I thought I did that," he mumbles. He nearly closes his eyes, but he has the strong sense that, if he does, he'll see things he doesn't want to. Even so, his vision blurs enough with him staring at some vague point on S's skin that he doesn't see much anyway. "It scared me. But even if I'd known... I was so miserable. It wouldn't have made a difference. But now..." He lifts his hand slightly again, fingertips grazing the scar again, running slowly down the length of it. "This is why you're alive. This one saved you. So it's okay, right?"
He doesn't mean for it to be a question. It isn't, quite. What he means is that, to him, that's the difference, and as hard as it still is for him to stomach what he did, he wants to believe that he can see something good here — not just something to endure or to get used to, but a reminder that S lived. But he's not sure that's his call to make. They're S's scars, S's fight. He lived through it, not J. Throat tightening, he shakes his head. He's not going to accustom himself to the sight of these all at once, but even if he's teary-eyed, he's not nearly as emotional or as upset as he thinks they both feared he would be.