A small, stubborn part of J wants to double down and insist. It's simply objective fact that he is going to be, at best, incredibly rusty. The thing is, that's not what S is saying. He knows that. And with the way S is opening up now, he owes it to him to listen, the way S always listens for him.
It hurts to hear, but in a quiet way, like an old bruise. He knew it already, really. It's hard not to. Even if S says J didn't take it from him, he's pretty sure he sort of did. He didn't help, certainly. But this is exactly why, he thinks, this is why it fell apart like it did, why music stopped bringing them together. He stopped letting it. S has never asked him to play better or write more, just supported him, whatever he chose to do, and J repaid him with vicious insecurity.
"I miss that too," he says. He was, he thinks, at his best back then anyway, when he was playing just to play with S or for him. "It was a lot simpler then. And better. I'm sorry, I don't mean to make it a competition. It's not fair of me. I never should have, I just..." He makes a small, helpless sound. "I was scared then and it's a habit now. I really don't like that. It comes back too easily."
He almost asks if S is sure it's a good idea for him to try this, but he bites it back. It's not a decision he has to make right away regardless, and talking about this is good. There's a lot he's done his best to ignore, and he doesn't like feeling like he's figuring his way through this, but maybe that's for the best. It's harder to hide things if he's not sure himself what he'll say.
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It hurts to hear, but in a quiet way, like an old bruise. He knew it already, really. It's hard not to. Even if S says J didn't take it from him, he's pretty sure he sort of did. He didn't help, certainly. But this is exactly why, he thinks, this is why it fell apart like it did, why music stopped bringing them together. He stopped letting it. S has never asked him to play better or write more, just supported him, whatever he chose to do, and J repaid him with vicious insecurity.
"I miss that too," he says. He was, he thinks, at his best back then anyway, when he was playing just to play with S or for him. "It was a lot simpler then. And better. I'm sorry, I don't mean to make it a competition. It's not fair of me. I never should have, I just..." He makes a small, helpless sound. "I was scared then and it's a habit now. I really don't like that. It comes back too easily."
He almost asks if S is sure it's a good idea for him to try this, but he bites it back. It's not a decision he has to make right away regardless, and talking about this is good. There's a lot he's done his best to ignore, and he doesn't like feeling like he's figuring his way through this, but maybe that's for the best. It's harder to hide things if he's not sure himself what he'll say.