It was the smoke from Curt's cigarette that woke Arthur up. Rubbing his eyelids with the back of his hand, he watched the whorl of musky air circle the immediate space above the bed. His eyes traced the grey spiral down to the short stub between Curt's lips. The burning embers glowed and illuminated the room a bit, as Curt took a deep whiff. It wasn't even morning yet.

He furthered his view to reach that of the side table next to Curt. The metal ashtray was teeming with dead stubs drowned in ash. Curt had been smoking all night, he concluded, but he wanted to ask anyway.

"Were you smoking all night?"

"Pretty much."

"Headache?"

"Nah." Curt said, in a tone that sort of dismissed Arthur.

Arthur was wondering why Curt, who drank quite a lot the night before, would be wide awake, and he, who drank significantly less, was the one who was out cold. He supposed that Curt just had a high tolerance for liquor.

Then the reality of it all dawned on him.

I'm in bed. With Curt Wild.

He took a peek under the billowy sheets covering them. Nothing on him.

What happened? What did we do?

It was all dreamlike, and he was trying to remember the dream. A tide of images rushed past him: he and Curt silently staring at each other in the doorway, his thumbs hooked on the back of Curt's pants, a gleam of Curt's smile as he snatched a look behind him. He recalled how nervous he was, trying not to tremble under Curt's weight. His stomach rippled when Curt hovered his hand over it. His neck tightened at every kiss or slap of tongue Curt delivered. He hoped that Curt had forgotten about that. His immediate courage had gotten him as far as naked, but when Curt made his striking advances he found himself flinching. And he would've moved out of the way each time if he wasn't caught in a distracting kiss, which forced him to think twice.

He was thinking twice about the whole thing now. He thought it over and decided that somehow he was "better" after the experience. He wasn't sure what that meant.

(---------------)

Arthur was still engrossed in his thoughts when the sound of Curt's voice broke the steady current.

"I'm gonna go out."

"Why? Where are you going?" He was surprised at how demanding he sounded.

"Going for a swim. Shake this all off."

"Shake what off?" Arthur questioned, sounding worried. He was afraid that by "all" Curt meant him and everything that happened.

"I've got a head." Curt said sleepily.

"Thought you said you didn't."

"Now I do." He picked himself up from the bed and reached for his clothes on the floor. Still sitting, he dipped his feet into the trouser-legs. Then he jumped up and pulled them on.

As Arthur watched Curt clothe himself, he realized something.

"Wait, where are you gonna swim?"

"Look outside." Curt smiled.

Arthur stepped out of the bed to peer out of the rather large window opposite the side of the table. It was dark, but he could see sparkling waves colliding against the beach. His mouth dropped a little, and he finally inquired "What? How'd we get here?"

The other didn't answer and instead, imparted his own question. "Wanna come?"

Arthur turned around and leaned beside the windowsill. He was thinking. But then, the very thought of the fact that he was thinking this over, a simple yes-or-no question, made him dismiss everything. He figured that he was thinking too much, and for that he was amply confused.

Already, Curt was halfway thru the door when Arthur made up his mind.

"I'm coming." he called out.

"Meet you there." the voice chimed from the hallway.

Feeling slightly more at ease, though still scattered, Arthur dressed himself spiritedly. He hummed as he buttoned his pants and zipped his boots up. He grabbed hold of Curt's jacket before leaving the room and maintaining the humming outdoors.

(---------------)

With dawn only beginning to approach, it was difficult to see Arthur's face and his rumpled forehead as he flexed his eyebrows askew. Only minutes had passed from the room to the promenade and from the promenade to the beach, but here he was, thinking again. He couldn't stop himself from imagining what Curt's outings with Brian must have been like. He predicted that he would be thrilled, about his much-worshipped idol and his…He didn't know what Curt was to him yet. But that wasn't what he got out of it. He found himself becoming more and more of a combatant for Curt's affections. And he was competing with Brian. But it wasn't even Brian, really. It was the memory of Brian. Yes, it all made sense…to him.

Arthur was so immersed in his ruminations that he didn't notice he had passed Curt, who had been taking a great pleasure in swimming. He walked back to where some articles of clothing, and what appeared to be a towel, lay. Yawning, he slinked out of Curt's jacket and his clothes and went to the water.