"I'm not pissed at you," Ronan insists because that much at least is true. He's not pissed at Noah or Adam or-- fuck, he's not even mad at the asshole with his fucking face. He never has been.

He scowls down at the wet towel, now a stained brown. Then cuts a glare back to Noah. "So what, Freddie kick you out after breakfast?" he asks then, spitting the name like a curse. "That's real boyfriend material right there."