Really, Adam knows he should stay out here. And it's his full intention to do so, except when he looks up from cataloging all the bruises and cuts on Ronan's body to see Ronan's eyes open and looking at him. Then the door slides open and Adam heel-toes his shoes off and is already stepping into the shower without even giving it a second thought. His socks are immediately soaked and he reahes down under the cuffs of his jeans to peel those off too.

Then, just as gently as his fingers had been pressed to the glass, he starts finding and touching every wound, replaying each fight in his mind as if he can make out which of Ronan's opponents left which one. And maybe he can. Adam's memory is sharp and long. He's looked like this a lot, Adam has, although he never asked for it like Ronan had. He has flashes of his own reflection as well, every time he'd looked in a mirror after his dad had kicked his ass and had to make a decision over whether or not he could go to school that day or not.

His fingertips circle around bruises, glide over cuts and he commits them all to memory.