Page 92 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Elliot set his phone down. Ronan remained in the doorway. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Ronan said, “Fuck.” Elliot looked at him. Ronan rubbed both hands over his face.

“He's actually dead.”

“Yes.”

Ronan's eyes lowered. That was grief. Not deep grief. He hadn't known Lucas well enough. But enough. Enough to remember him alive. Enough to feel the absence become real. Elliot understood the concept. Understanding and experiencing were different things.

“You okay?” Elliot asked.

Ronan laughed once. Not because it was funny.

“You're asking me?”

“Yes.”

“I barely knew him.”

“You've been worried about him for two weeks.”

“Yeah.”

Ronan leaned against the doorframe. Something about him looked smaller this morning. Not physically. Ronan almost never looked physically small. But there was exhaustion in the way he stood.

“Dylan's gonna lose his shit.”

Elliot's jaw tightened. Of course. Lucas was dead and somehow Dylan remained the first person Ronan worried about. He immediately hated himself for noticing. Not enough to stop.

“Probably.”

Ronan looked up.

“You're doing it.”

Elliot's fingers curled against the countertop.

“Doing what?”

“That tone.”

“What tone?”

“The Dylan tone.”

Elliot smiled faintly.

“Someone died and you're still worried about my jealousy?”

“Apparently you are too.”

Elliot looked away. Ronan stepped inside. The bathroom wasn't large enough for both of them comfortably. Ronan's shoulder nearly touched the door as he moved past it.

“Hey.”

Elliot busied himself putting the toothpaste away.

“I'm fine.”

“I didn't ask if you're fine.”