[Adrian's POV]
"I need to go."
"You've said that, like ten minutes ago."
Adrian scratched the back of his newly showered head as uncertainty rooted him on the bed. He needed to go home, but the warmth on his side was telling him to stay. Adrian kicked the covers off. The navy shorts that was too small for him stretched uncomfortably against his skin.
Johan gave him a funny look when he didn't make any attempt to stand. His eyes sweep the yellow basketball shirt that didn't match the shorts he lent him. What can he do? He's not as slender as Johan to fit in his clothes.
"Why are you laughing?"
"I'm not." Johan covered his mouth, but Adrian could see the side of his eyes crinkling with mirth.
"You are obviously laughing."
"I'm... really not," Johan repeated, trying his hardest to sport a poker face, but failing. Adrian reached for his waist to tickle him, but Johan swatted his hand away. "Don't, fucker."
