Jim puts the apron on without hesitation, trusting Hunter despite his confusion, and reaches out to help hold the pieces in place when the other man begins to work. And the more Hunter explains, the deeper his words wind his way into the cracks of Jim's own heart.

More beautiful because it was broken... it's not something Jim has ever heard.

He's not sure how to feel about that, struggling to even identify the nagging doubts and turmoil within him, years upon years of hiding away his own brokenness telling him not to let anyone see, to keep it to himself, to put on the happy face and smile, smile, smile, pretend nothing is wrong, nothing was ever wrong, and if it was then it's nobody business but Jim Kirk's.

But now it's not. Hunter knows. Not all of it, not anywhere close, but he's seen the darkness and didn't flinch, didn't run. Poured all his efforts into making sure that for once in a very long time, Hanukkah actually meant something to Jim, not just another week on the calendar, like the years where he didn't even bother to light candles or reflect on anything, or the years where he went through the motions anyway and felt nothing.

He's quiet as Hunter speaks, and continues for several moments after he stops, unsure what to say. "And that... doesn't make it less useful?"