iryeon spends a week sleeping in haewon's bed. "i'm using my bed for a project, so i don't have any room to sleep," he explains, and adds a slightly insistent "for real this time" a moment later.
haewon prefers iryeon's bed, or something like that. maybe he's just used to it; iryeon's bed always smells earthy and floral, like what falling asleep in the garden of eden must feel like, and in the morning, the sweet scent greets them both. iryeon wakes up clutching haewon, who's clutching the whale. iryeon's bed is a different firmness than any other bed too. he thinks it's because of all the charms he's layered over the mattress throughout the years.
but iryeon's bed is currently occupied by a snaking green mass, frothing silver over the edges of a box with grid dividers, so he pushes open the door to the fifth year dormitory instead at night and steadily shoves haewon to the side until there's room for two. haewon's bed doesn't smell earthy and floral. it smells a little chemical. it's a little too soft for iryeon's back. iryeon thinks he would be glad to get back to his own room in a week's time, back to the familiar sweet scent, the cool way shadows slip between the leaves gathered above his head to paint stories along his rippling curtains.
in the meantime, though, he wakes up holding haewon, who holds him back, and the whale is kept neatly upstairs, out of the way.
