Before Alvin moved into my old room, he lived out in the suburbs. In fact, because he is lazy and poor, he spends most of his time in the suburbs still - taking advantage of his parents' food and Playstation. But back when his room was my room, he used to crash at mine whenever we hit the city. Which was a lot.
He got pretty comfortable there. Sometimes he'd get home before me, let himself in through the unlocked window, and tuck himself into my bed. I'd come home at 5am to find him all tuckered out in my sheets with Hungry Jacks wrappers sprawled over his disgusting body.
I would have a decision to make then. A decision a tired, drunk, drug addled and sexually frustrated mind did not want to make. Jump in next to him or go and sleep on the couch.
I didn't always sleep on the couch. Those were some awkward mornings. Alvin never seemed to mind.