With this, too, it helps in a strange way to have that caveat given. S knows J better too well for anything else, and he knows he wouldn't believe that sort of reassurance. He wouldn't see it as dishonest, but perhaps just wishful thinking, overly optimistic, and then he would settle right back into not wanting to broach the subject at all. It still isn't going to be as simple as just being told once that it's fine and then never worrying about it again, but maybe with time, he'll get more used to it, maybe it will feel more like something he can do. He meant what he said before, after all. Not talking to J about something — especially something so serious, even if he hadn't known until today just how much it's been bothering him — always feels inherently wrong when J has long since been the only person he talks to about most things.

"You, too," he murmurs. He knows he's said as much before, probably countless times, but right now, under the circumstances, he thinks it bears repeating. It lets him turn over his own thoughts for another moment or two anyway, difficult as they are to make sense, especially when his head feels all clouded from crying. "Anytime, anything." He clutches absently at J's shirt in turn, mostly just for something to hold onto, the presence of J as reassuring as ever. "And I'll... I'll try to be better at... letting myself talk about it. When I need to."