(We now return to our regularly scheduled literary garbage, already in progress…)
“Hey, Sinbad?” When the two of them got back to Sinbad’s house, Shark quietly got his attention. “I, uh…”
He hesitated, trying to find the best way to get the words out. “Thanks for earlier, I guess. No one in the family’s had the guts to confront my grandfather like that before.”
To the sentiment, Sinbad just gave a casual shrug. “I don’t condone abuse. The old bastard had it coming.”
Then he was quiet. Shark kept following him as they went inside, and watched as he brought out a spare pillow and blanket.
“I’m not here at a bad time, am I?”
This earned him a growl as part of Sinbad’s response. “Fuck no. My roommate ain’t here tonight. Said he’s gotta help with a friend for something. I didn’t give a shit.”
Shark looked out the window, seeing Goodwin’s white truck parked across the street. The windows of the house it was parked at were completely covered. If nothing else, it perplexed him.
“So…Are your neighbors into black magic, or something?” He asked while pointing to the other house.
“Huh? Oh hell no. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on over there…”
Later that evening, Shark was bundled up in the blanket Sinbad had put out for him. Outside it seemed as if the temperatures were plummeting frightfully.
Sinbad had already gone to his room for the night. All he did to say goodnight was raise a hand towards Shark.
It may have been the callousness of the gesture, but something about Sinbad seemed more off than usual. The intense curiosity got Shark to stand up and check on him.
To his surprise, Sinbad was still awake in the cold, dark room. He was staring out the window towards the patio deck. As usual, he had a lit cigarette in his mouth.
Even more bizarrely, he was shirtless despite the low temperatures. Shark couldn’t really make out the tattoo on his chest.
“Is something wrong, Sinbad?” The question went unanswered. Sinbad just looked directly at him while blowing smoke through his nostrils. While he did this, he started shaking his head.
Then Sinbad approached him, putting his cigarette out on the doorframe. When he was close enough, he put both hands on Shark’s shoulders.
“Sinbad…?” Shark was taken aback when Sinbad leaned in and kissed him.
The fifteen minutes or so seemed to go by in an indistinct blur.
Before Shark knew it, he and Sinbad were on the bed, kissing passionately. What Shark was pleasantly surprised by was that Sinbad was quite into it. They both alternated positions on the bed.
The two then grasped each other’s hands, weaving their fingers together. Sinbad appeared to make extra certain to grip tightly enough.
With his free hand, Shark placed it on the back of Sinbad’s neck. He didn’t want the moment to stop.
Sadly for him, it eventually did. At least by this time, the bed was warm from the two of them rolling around on it. Shark didn’t think he was allowed to enjoy it with Sinbad, though.
“Okay…” He whispered as he began to get off the bed. “Thanks for that. I’ll see you in the morning, maybe.”
“Wait, hold up…!” But Shark didn’t pay much attention to him. He just walked back to the cold main room, and tried to get some sleep.