More than anything right now, S wishes that there were some definitive reassurance he could give, a way of guaranteeing — for J's sake more than his — that that won't happen again. He can't, though. He was powerless against it the first time around, which only made it that much worse to watch his relationship slip away from him, any attempts he made to intervene just adding to the problem instead, and things wound up being even worse than he knew. Though he has much more awareness now, that's the very reason why he knows he can't offer any concrete, inarguable promises that J won't do any of that again. Somehow, he knows at once too much and not enough for that — far more aware now of what was going on with J back then, clueless as to where it came from or why. He still doesn't know what changed between them, only that it did, and then they were too far gone to try to pull any of it back.
That, though, is where he has an edge now that he didn't before. Back then, he didn't see it happening until it had already happened. Now, he at least has some idea of what to look for. They both do, he thinks, however much might still be unknown, might always be.
"It doesn't sound crazy," he murmurs, as understanding as he can. It may not make sense to him entirely, but he thinks he can understand that worry all the same. The fact that J has commented on it himself, though, and clearly isn't taking any of this lightly, gives S all the more faith that it might not be a terrible idea. If it is, they'll probably find out in short order, but they've been through so much since then, survived things that shouldn't have been survivable in both a physical sense and a metaphorical one, where their relationship is concerned. They're talking now in a way they'd stopped doing before. If they're both keeping an eye on things, if they're both trying to avoid the same thing, then they must at least stand a chance, even if what J is worried about is true on any level. "But even if that is the case — and I don't think it is, but even if — then we won't let that happen, right? We'll stop it before it does. We'll be careful. It won't just go from... this to that overnight. It didn't before."
He's pretty sure it didn't, anyway. More likely, he thinks it was insidious, so slow and gradual that it happened before either of them realized it. This time, if it comes to that at all, will be different. They'll both, he thinks, be aware of any shifts, anything that seems like a return to the way things were before J left him. It takes him a moment to realize it, but the rest of what J has said seems quietly promising, too, albeit in a way that S isn't quite sure how to articulate. He's thought about that particular aspect of things for a long time, actually, but without knowing the best way to discuss it. Part of that, though, was not knowing how to get into this subject at all, and they're here now, which makes it easier. "I think that's a good sign, anyway, isn't it?" he asks, a little quieter, something sadly, cautiously hopeful and so uncertain in his voice. "That you want to play."
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That, though, is where he has an edge now that he didn't before. Back then, he didn't see it happening until it had already happened. Now, he at least has some idea of what to look for. They both do, he thinks, however much might still be unknown, might always be.
"It doesn't sound crazy," he murmurs, as understanding as he can. It may not make sense to him entirely, but he thinks he can understand that worry all the same. The fact that J has commented on it himself, though, and clearly isn't taking any of this lightly, gives S all the more faith that it might not be a terrible idea. If it is, they'll probably find out in short order, but they've been through so much since then, survived things that shouldn't have been survivable in both a physical sense and a metaphorical one, where their relationship is concerned. They're talking now in a way they'd stopped doing before. If they're both keeping an eye on things, if they're both trying to avoid the same thing, then they must at least stand a chance, even if what J is worried about is true on any level. "But even if that is the case — and I don't think it is, but even if — then we won't let that happen, right? We'll stop it before it does. We'll be careful. It won't just go from... this to that overnight. It didn't before."
He's pretty sure it didn't, anyway. More likely, he thinks it was insidious, so slow and gradual that it happened before either of them realized it. This time, if it comes to that at all, will be different. They'll both, he thinks, be aware of any shifts, anything that seems like a return to the way things were before J left him. It takes him a moment to realize it, but the rest of what J has said seems quietly promising, too, albeit in a way that S isn't quite sure how to articulate. He's thought about that particular aspect of things for a long time, actually, but without knowing the best way to discuss it. Part of that, though, was not knowing how to get into this subject at all, and they're here now, which makes it easier. "I think that's a good sign, anyway, isn't it?" he asks, a little quieter, something sadly, cautiously hopeful and so uncertain in his voice. "That you want to play."