"Mostly," S echoes, a hint of a weary smile playing at the corners of his mouth. In a strange way, there's reassurance in the fact of that — both that J would rather know, making this subject one that might not have to stay quite so off-limits, and that that may not always be the case, making him feel a little less stupid for having thought he needed to keep it to himself. At least they both know he was well-intentioned. That alone leaves them better off than they were in such instances back in Seoul, before J left. He was wrong, but maybe there was no real way to be right. Given the subject at hand, maybe it would have hurt just as much regardless of how it came up.

He doesn't know, and his head is too foggy from all the crying to be able to make sense of much of anything. What he does know is that something feels a little like it's been set right, or at least aimed in the right direction. It's not going to be as simple as him just suddenly being comfortable with his scars in J's view, but he doesn't have to try so hard to keep them completely hidden. Maybe the comfort, then, will come with time.

"I don't... want to not talk about it. I think," he says, brow furrowing a little as he tries to sort what's in his head into some semblance of order. "I don't know what I'd want to say, but I don't want to have to keep it put away, either."