“Dustin, are you okay?” Ronan asks, leaning over Dustin, only to be surprised with a shockingly strong right hook that catches him on the cheek and knocks him back.
“Ow, f**k,” Ronan grunts, rubbing his cheek. His usual reaction to being hit would be to defend himself, but he’s knows he’s not under attack and that Dustin probably didn’t mean it.
“Oh my God, did I just hit you?” Dustin asks, sounding alarmed and turning on the bedside light, which blinds Ronan for a few seconds. When he can see again, Dustin is sitting up in bed, his covers a mess, looking very worried.
“Yes, you did hit me,” Ronan complains—his face is throbbing.
“I’m so, so sorry. I will totally understand if you want me to leave your house or if you want to punch me in the face.” Dustin looks like a kicked puppy, and
