[Ronan goes still at the press of fingers against his back, but he doesn't pull away from the touch. He hadn't been expecting it, but now that it's here, he doesn't want to discourage it. Slow- careful, so as not to dislodge Adam's hand- he turns his head to look up at him, quiet as he speaks.

Just like before, it's difficult to focus on much, when Adam is close enough to smell the pine and wet grass on him, when Adam's warm fingers are resting on his neck, but Ronan nods anyway, quiet for a beat longer than is strictly necessary for their conversation.]

Gansey knows it's bullshit. [He says this with a confidence that he doesn't exactly feel. He remembers the look on Gansey's face when he pulled Blue off of him, and even before, how he'd reacted when they'd fought over the mirrors.

He frowns, turning back to stare at the headboard.]

Following him was our choice. If not for him, then we'd-

[There's a pause, and Ronan frowns as he tries to figure out how to say it without giving too much away. Adam knows, of course, what the sentiment is already, but saying it out loud gives it a certain life that Ronan isn't quite ready to let go of yet. So he diverts, moving onto something else.]

...anyway, people would have died anyway. It wasn't Gansey, it was Sargent's bitch of an aunt, the crap she had around the house. He knows that.