Chapter Text
“There’s only one bed.”
Jere almost runs into Bojan who’s stopped on his tracks at the bedroom door. Jere peeks over his shoulder.
“Oh.”
Bojan’s right – there is only one bed at the center of the room. It’s king size, plenty of space for two people, but still.
They speak at the same time.
“I mean, that’s–”
“I’m sorry, I can ask them to–”
The last thing Jere wants is to make Bojan uncomfortable, not now, when it took so much effort to make this trip happen. It has really seemed like the universe is conspiring against them, keeping them apart.
But here they finally are, in Cyprus, the week ahead cleared of responsibilities and appointments. Jere doesn’t want anything to spoil it. And if Bojan doesn’t want to share…
Bojan waves his hand and wheels his carry-on further in the room.
“No, it’s fine!” he declares. Jere can’t see his face to determine if he really means it.
“It is?” he asks, following Bojan slowly with his own suitcase.
Bojan shrugs.
“Um. I dunno. Is it?”
“I guess…” Jere looks around. “I like this room. The sofa in living room not look very nice.”
He’s spent enough nights on uncomfortable pull-outs and make-shift beds. This bed looks comfy. The room is nice. He’s tired from travelling.
Bojan nods.
“We’ll… be okay? The guys and I are used to sharing.”
Jere’s quick to agree. The bed is huge, and it's preferable to any alternative. It’s really no big deal, two guys in one bunk, is it?
“Me too, with Tomi, and with others… no matter.”
Bojan sits on the bed, smiling now. His hand smoothes over some non-existent wrinkles on the bedspread.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “And we’re in tour buses all the time, it’s as good as sharing everything anyway?”
Jere nods, wheeling his suitcase to the other side of the bed. Bojan has clearly already claimed the left side as his.
“Yes. Nobody can hide.”
They both open their bags, pulling out things and setting them somewhere. It’s gorgeous out; Jere definitely wants to try out the pool as soon as possible. It’ll be good to get out a bit.
“Just don’t snore.”
Jere looks up from where he’s trying to locate his swimming trunks amongst his clothes, and sees Bojan grinning to himself.
“I don’t snore!” he protests, flicking a pair of underpants on Bojan’s head.
Bojan grabs them and throws them back at him.
“I bet you fart, too,” he says as the pants hit Jere in the face.
“Oh no no no no.” Jere waggles his finger towards Bojan as he swings the boxers in the direction of his bag. “I remember. When you sleep at my house. You fart. Smelly boy.”
Bojan gets up, grabs a towel from where it’s folded neatly on the foot of the bed, and flings it over his shoulder, swimming trunks already in his hand.
“I guess we’ll just have to agree to be smelly together,” he shrugs. His eyes are twinkling.
A warmth rises on Jere’s cheeks. It’s going to be a good week. He can feel it already.
“Okei. I take toilet first.”