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There’s silence as War stands in the entrance of the tiny hotel room. Yin is behind him, not saying a word; the only sound is the click of the door as it closes behind them.
“Well,” Yin says, and War can picture the look on his face clear as day. “It’s… cozy.”
“Cozy? It’s a coffin,” War retorts, dropping his luggage with an incredulous thud.
The journey to Iceland had been, in a word, long. Incredibly long. Torturously long. Sleeping in a big, luxurious bed had been the only thing keeping War going.
“Coffin is a bit of an exaggeration,” Yin tuts, squeezing past War to stand on the opposite side of the bed. “It’s just a bit on the small side.”
There had been a plumbing issue elsewhere in the hotel, apparently, so the premium suite they had been expecting was no longer available. This room, however, is clearly for one person, because the singular bed sitting in the middle of the accent wall is just that—a single.
“It’s smaller than my bed at home,” War protests. “And I’m just a bit on the small side!”
That makes Yin laugh, which in turn has a grin tugging at the corner of War’s mouth, but he tries to remain strong.
“Yin,” he whines, stomping his foot and everything, “I wanted a big, luxurious bed. I’m tired.”
“I’m sure this bed is luxurious,” Yin says, removing his sweater. “And if you’re tired, you’ll fall asleep quickly and sleep deeply no matter the size of the bed.”
When War opens his mouth to argue, Yin throws his sweater at him.
“You cannot tell me you wouldn’t be stuck to my side like a thorn even if the bed was big and luxurious,” Yin says, crossing his arms.
War pouts. Yin has a point, but still. “There’s a difference between cuddling romantically in a nice bed versus cuddling in a small one out of necessity,” War sniffs.
Yin sighs. “War, we’ve just flown thousands of miles for a once-in-a-lifetime trip. The northern lights are going to shine regardless of the size of bed you sleep in tonight. Besides,” Yin continues, circling the bed again to stand in front of War, “maybe I think this is romantic. Have you considered that?”
Biting back another smile, War shakes his head.
“No? Well, I think it is. Like we’re back in that shitty apartment you used to rent, remember? So, do you think you’ll manage in this bed, Khun?” Yin asks, leaning down until his face is level with War’s.
War hums, pretending to consider all his—limited—options. “It’ll be hot,” he says, placing his hands on Yin’s waist.
“I sleep in my boxers,” Yin says, shrugging.
“And me?” War asks, lifting Yin’s t-shirt up and over his head.
“I think we can find a solution.” Yin removes War’s sweater and t-shirt in one motion, tossing them to the floor.
Sharing a tiny bed isn’t an issue if they just don’t sleep, War reasons.