Though he's the one that mentioned it first, though he felt foolish doing so, J can't help the way tears spark when S says that. His feelings around this will always be complicated. He's not sure there's any way for them not to be. Still, it's comforting to hear that and to feel some shred of truth in it. Whatever led them to that point, though he can't ignore it, he can try to hold onto that part, too, that he did the right thing in the moment.
Sometimes it feels very small. Compared to the terrible things he did, he supposes it is, that it isn't much to save a life when he's ended others. He's past pretending, though, that it wasn't the life he cared most about in the end. Sometimes it feels small for other reasons, because S has saved him, too, and still does, again and again. J isn't even sure if he understands that entirely, beyond the obvious fact of J's still being alive. Or being alive again, as it were. He doesn't think he's ever voice it really, how much it wasn't just one day or one act, how it's been S every day of his time here, how it was weeks before he felt like he could get through a day without wondering if maybe they both wouldn't be better off without him alive. He doesn't want S to think it's still a constant, pressing thing, even if he can't claim it isn't still, at times, present.
"We save each other," he settles on, soft, a tiny smile rising at the sight of S's, a slim, fragile thing, and terribly precious. Lifting his hand, he brushes his knuckles along S's cheek, then huffs out a little laugh. "Ah, even from the start. Even when all you could do was bring me a bandaid. Really, Sihyun-ah, I love you so much — dressed or undressed or half-dressed." He's settled a little since he came here, isn't saying it every five seconds, but that doesn't mean he savors it any less. It feels good to be able to say it and to hold S close, to feel sure he's loved in spite of it all. His hand slipping to S's waist, he brushes his thumb against soft skin, small reassuring strokes. "I like you every way that you are." After a moment, he adds, "How are you? Feeling okay, darling?"
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Sometimes it feels very small. Compared to the terrible things he did, he supposes it is, that it isn't much to save a life when he's ended others. He's past pretending, though, that it wasn't the life he cared most about in the end. Sometimes it feels small for other reasons, because S has saved him, too, and still does, again and again. J isn't even sure if he understands that entirely, beyond the obvious fact of J's still being alive. Or being alive again, as it were. He doesn't think he's ever voice it really, how much it wasn't just one day or one act, how it's been S every day of his time here, how it was weeks before he felt like he could get through a day without wondering if maybe they both wouldn't be better off without him alive. He doesn't want S to think it's still a constant, pressing thing, even if he can't claim it isn't still, at times, present.
"We save each other," he settles on, soft, a tiny smile rising at the sight of S's, a slim, fragile thing, and terribly precious. Lifting his hand, he brushes his knuckles along S's cheek, then huffs out a little laugh. "Ah, even from the start. Even when all you could do was bring me a bandaid. Really, Sihyun-ah, I love you so much — dressed or undressed or half-dressed." He's settled a little since he came here, isn't saying it every five seconds, but that doesn't mean he savors it any less. It feels good to be able to say it and to hold S close, to feel sure he's loved in spite of it all. His hand slipping to S's waist, he brushes his thumb against soft skin, small reassuring strokes. "I like you every way that you are." After a moment, he adds, "How are you? Feeling okay, darling?"