After the first date that tiptoed the line between awkwardness and giddiness, Cullen had not expected to hear from Tharin ever again. And so, he did not hold his breath for any message, either on the website or on his phone. It turned out they needn't have exchanged phone numbers.

True to his expectation, after a nearly monosyllabic textual exchange in which Tharin checked in to see whether Cullen got back to the base in time, there was only silence. It got to the point where Cullen sometimes felt the phone vibrate only to find that it was just him. Phantom text messages, how pathetic was that?

At least the USS McKee was called out on a bilateral training exercise with the Philippines at the beginning of June. It was fortunate that Cullen found himself in the middle of the South China Sea, too busy to care about missed messages or the lack thereof.

He had absolutely no idea what kind of surprise was in store for him back in Japan.

Over three weeks had passed after the first date with Tharin. Cullen was in his barrack room making supper for himself – a dreary fare of pan-fried chicken breast with a side of spinach salad – when his phone vibrated. It was a text message from Tharin.

Have you ever been to Enoshima?

Cullen had come to the realization that Tharin could be unpredictable when his fancy struck. As someone who had become accustomed to a rigid, regimented life, Tharin was someone he could not readily comprehend. And he rather enjoyed his own incomprehension.

He turned off the stove and fumbled with the phone to unlock it. Why was it giving him trouble all of a sudden? His thumb was still his own thumb; my thumbprint wouldn't've changed in the last five minutes, you stupid piece of electronic junk!

The messages app opened seamlessly as if to mock the effort he put into unlocking the phone. He hurriedly texted back, No. What is that?

And the reply came instantly. It's an island near where you are. Well, kinda near you. Will you come out with me on the Fourth of July?

Cullen dawdled. It wasn't necessarily that it would be hard to secure liberty on the Fourth of July, it was more that the insecurity in him was prompting him to ask Tharin if that was truly what he wanted, another date with someone as dull and clumsy as himself. But he decided to feign confidence.

Sure.

Awesome! Meet me in Kamakura Station at 2 pm that day?

Cullen first typed just an Ok but thought better of it.

Sounds good.

I will bring sparklers, haha.

Cullen locked the phone and put it down gently on the counter. He chuckled and crossed his arms as he leaned against the kitchen wall. He stared at the chicken breasts that were still pink in the middle, pondering what had just happened.

The annual rainy season in Japan extended from June to July, but the weather forecast called for a clear day on Independence Day. Cullen kept checking the weather on his phone as the day approached, lest the forecast change at the last minute. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened.

He also conducted research beforehand to make sure he would at least be vaguely familiar with the area they were going on a date to. Cullen looked up Kamakura on the Internet and discovered that the city was home to Daibutsu, the Great Buddha statue. It had even been celebrated in a poem by Rudyard Kipling, notwithstanding his vile racism – The White Man's Burden, what an ass!

Cullen had only ever seen the statue in photos and was thrilled at the prospect of visiting it in person. So, on the night before their second date, Cullen texted Tharin to insist that they stop by on the way to Enoshima. He even played the military card, saying that he didn't often get the chance to explore outside the base. Tharin texted back, Ugh, fine, followed by an emoji that had its tongue stuck out.

On the actual day, Tharin was late. They rendezvoused at 1416 in the main hall of Kamakura Station. Cullen graciously beamed as the young man jogged toward him, breath somewhat ragged.

Tharin was in a white linen shirt and cinnabar red cotton shorts. On his feet were gray Converse. Like Cullen, he had a pair of sunglasses dangling from the collar of his shirt. He looks handsome in those clothes, though he'd have looked beautiful in whatever he decided to wear, Cullen thought.

The young man had a messenger bag on, the content of which was to remain a mystery to Cullen, apparently. He thought that asking would be too invasive and dropped the subject in his head.

"Shall we go see your Buddha like you wanted?" asked Tharin jocundly. Cullen merely chortled as he let the other man take the lead.

The two took a local bus to the temple that housed the Great Buddha. Cullen always felt uneasy on local buses. Subway lines and trains were the preferred mode of transportation among foreigners in Japan, and buses were often left unexplored. Even in Yokosuka, where Americans weren't a rare presence at all, Cullen was usually the only non-Japanese person on the bus to Yokosuka Station.

Plus, Cullen was a large man. All muscles and sinews with a height over six feet, he was a hulking figure among the Japanese. He always felt like he had to fold himself twice over, once horizontally, another time vertically, to not become a nuisance.

Still, he was sitting next to Tharin. Even excitement at the close contact with the young man wasn't enough to make him totally unmindful of the bulkiness of his own body, but it did make him less anxious. And that was something.

The temple itself was nothing special. Just another Buddhist temple in a land filled to the brim with them. It was peaceful though, surrounded by pine trees that acted as a wall, stopping the city from spilling over to the temple.

But the Buddha was indeed something special. To begin with, it was gigantic. The bronze statue had been sitting there for nearly eight-hundred years, according to the informational website he pulled up in anticipation. Cullen was awestruck.

The statue had a contemplative look of someone deep in meditation. It stared down at Cullen, but there was no look of prejudicial judgment or disapprobation. It seemed to only ask for introspection, to even let go of what he had been seeking for in this life. The Buddha elicited within Cullen a sense of peace that wasn't entirely familiar to him, even after thirty years of existence on this earth.

Perhaps Cullen was guilty of fetishizing an Asian religion like many baby boomers, but the emotion, while indescribable, was real to him. Not that he could heartily follow Buddha's teachings about freeing himself from all the earthly bonds and desires.

Feelings of romantic attachment, of being able to claim himself as someone's significant other, while he had never truly experienced it, was something he wanted. If it were to make him sad at some point, so be it. He was willing to risk it.

While they were looking around the statue, Tharin grasped Cullen's wrist and pulled him toward a little shed-looking structure that abutted on its right side. He said giddily, "We can actually go inside the Buddha!"

Cullen let Tharin guide him inside. Unlike the hot, sticky air outside, the hollow interior of the Buddha was cool. The only downside was that there were too many people crammed inside, and all of them decided tranquil reflection on the statue's timelessness was something to be avoided at all costs.

As Cullen heard Japanese and other languages he didn't understand ring throughout the Buddha, he tried his hardest to focus his attention on the metallurgy of the magnificent statue. It was difficult to do, and he soon gave up and eyed at Tharin.

Tharin nodded with a thin grin and pulled Cullen out of the throng.

Afterwards, they ambled to a tiny train station and took a train heading to Fujisawa, via Enoshima. It looked like streetcars fused together, fern green and beige in a strange combination of colors that was reminiscent of nineteenth-century aesthetics, which Cullen guessed was a design by choice. And it moved like a streetcar too, all slow and clunky.

There was only one train track meandering through a residential area, sometimes running parallel to the narrow alleyways where people were sauntering and biking around. There were no guardrails separating the tracks and the alleyways, which was surprising.

Sometimes their train stopped in a section with double-sided tracks to let the train coming toward them pass. It was unhurried and idyllic.

The entire time they were on the train, Tharin had his neck twisted around so he could watch the scenery while sitting. Cullen could not help but smile.

As the train took a slight curve to the left, well-kept, upscale two-story houses on one side suddenly gave way to the Pacific Ocean. An empty expanse of Moroccan blue filled with white lines of the high waves. The sunray that had been subdued by the houses turned brighter and filled the train car with iridescent light.

There was a chunk of green earth in the far-off distance. That was probably the island.

The vastness of the ocean did not frighten Cullen. As a thalassophile and a sailor, he was used to it. But to see it from a land like Japan where everything was peaceful and mundane lives continued uninterrupted was something different than looking at it from the USS McKee, which had strife and conflict as the purpose of its existence. The waves seemed calmer, and the ocean seemed much more forgiving.

Cullen was beginning to love Kamakura.

He stole a glance at Tharin and found the man utterly enraptured by the picturesque scene. If the man were any smaller, he would have turned around and sat on his knees to stare out the window. Cullen was sure of it.

The next station is Kamakurakōkōmae, ee-en-eight, declared the train's public announcement system in perfect American English.

As soon as the announcement rang, Tharin stood up. He proclaimed impatiently, "C'mon, we are getting off here."

"What? We aren't there yet, are we?" Before leaving his barrack room, Cullen consulted his phone and had counted the number of stations they would have to pass to get to their destination. Enoshima was the sixth station from where they boarded, yet they had only passed four stations.

Tharin gestured outside. "No. But look at the ocean! We have to get off here."

Cullen let his lips curl upward. "Ok, if you insist."

"Hurry, Cul!"

Cullen felt his face flush as Tharin used his nickname so casually.

When they disembarked from the train along with a crowd of people who looked like tourists and one young woman with florid kimono on, Tharin began to jog toward the exit. Cullen kept up, wondering where they were going.

He need not wonder long. They came to a railway crossing that cut across to the other side. There were tons of people there, all sightseers evidently, loitering and posing to take photos of themselves at the crossing for some reason.

Ignoring the horde, they crossed the track and the busy street and arrived at the entrance to the beach.

Tharin finally slowed down and began to descend the stairs toward the ocean.

The embankment was higher than Cullen had thought, and he fell behind quickly. He watched as Tharin took off again at the bottom of the stairs, abandoning the messenger bag and his shoes as he ran toward the ocean.

Cullen sped down the rest of the stairs and began to roll up his pants. He shouted, "Wait for me!"

Tharin was already in the ocean, splashing around in the surf, heedless of his clothes getting wet. He waved and yelled back encouragingly, "C'mon, Cul!"

Gingerly taking off his shoes and putting his phone and sunglasses in them, Cullen followed in. His nostrils were filled with the salty ocean air and microscopic molecules of water and organic matters. Tharin splashed seawater at him, which Cullen countered by turning away and splashing back. They laughed like children.

When was the last time Cullen had done this? In spite of his upbringing in New England, he had not been to the beach in quite some time.

Cullen was set free.

Of the worry that his personality was too milquetoast. Of the notion that he was breaking the unspoken rules of the military institution by living his truth. Of the worry that Tharin was not interested in him.

Of the worry that people were watching them and judging.

Cullen grasped Tharin's left hand and pulled him closer. The young man placed his remaining arm over Cullen's left shoulder and gazed at Cullen with a fierce longing.

Their wet clothes clung to their skin, covering it in goose bumps.

The warm bodies weaved together, and Cullen kissed Tharin deeply.

The Fourth of July was obviously too early for Japanese beachgoers. According to Tharin, the vacation season did not begin until August, when the rainy season was over and done with. There were only a few stragglers walking along the surf, leaving deep footprints.

Tharin produced two towels from his bag, and Cullen chortled. After wiping down various damp spots on their clothes as much as possible, the two men sat on the sand and watched people stroll by, gazing at the ocean.

Cullen wore even more formal clothes for the second date. He had on brown loafers and a baby blue button-down shirt loosely tucked into a pair of khaki pants. Even so, he did not mind getting his clothes wet and sandy. His body positively vibrated from the excitement and contentment of a kiss with Tharin. Their first real kiss.

After the two men settled down on their little corner of the beach, they chatted about nothing serious, though the subject of their jobs did come up. But Cullen couldn't go too much into detail, not because anything he did was top-secret, but because he knew it would bore the other man to tears. So, he mostly listened to Tharin talk about teaching English to hyperactive Japanese teenagers.

The young man suddenly turned away and whispered, "Oh well, that's disappointing."

Anxiety spiked in Cullen as he wondered if Tharin was talking about him. But the other man turned back and grinned sheepishly, "I've seen photos of Enoshima with Mount Fuji behind it. Apparently, the air isn't clear enough today for us to see Fuji from here."

It began to dawn on Cullen that Tharin had mapped out today's activities meticulously. His heart squeezed with something overwhelming. He looked around to make sure no one was walking toward them and planted a lingering kiss on the young man's left cheek. Tharin's face, already incarnadine from the heat, became even more reddish.

Cullen asked nonchalantly, "Is this a planned detour then?"

Tharin protested rather heatedly, "No. But I mean, look at the ocean! How could you not make a detour here?"

It wasn't easy to hold back from teasing Tharin. Cullen let one corner of his mouth twist in a smirk and patted the young man's back. Tharin gave Cullen a sidelong glance and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah."

All of a sudden, Cullen's stomach emitted a gurgling sound. It was just before 1550. Over four hours since Cullen had had a simple brunch that consisted of two boiled eggs and a piece of toast with margarine.

Tharin opened the courier bag eagerly and with an excitable "Ah-ha!" pulled out a bunch of stuff. As he threw a red box of something at Cullen, he explained, "I packed Pocky and brought some rice crackers too. Have you had these before?"

"Pocky, yes. Rice crackers, no." Cullen's mind conjured up the image of those healthy snacks that only the most dedicated dieters and people with grandiose New Year's resolutions bought in American supermarkets.

Tharin must have seen the man's expression, because he burst out laughing and declared with his right hand up, "I swear to God, these aren't like the American ones at all." He tore open the plastic wrapping and offered the bag to Cullen.

Cullen reached and pulled out a random one, hoping for something good. When Tharin saw the layered round disc that Cullen pulled out, the young man nodded approvingly, "That one has buttercream in the middle. It's really good."

When Cullen bit into it, the cracker broke in half. It was better than he had expected, the warm and savory aroma of rice and sesame passing by at first, to be followed by the rich, sweet taste of buttercream center.

But the actual cracker part of it didn't seem to have any oil in the batter. Or if it did, it wasn't enough. A piece of the cracker got stuck on top of his mouth, and it tickled his throat, causing him to have a coughing fit.

Tharin said apologetically, "Ah, right. It does get a bit… dry." He then effortlessly pulled out a drink bottle from the bag and offered to Cullen. It was the same iced green tea they shared on their first date.

Cullen promptly opened the cap and drank a third of the bottle in one go.

After they shared a whole pack of Pocky and the rest of the tea, Tharin put the trash back in the front pocket of the messenger bag and stood up. Dusting his seat, the young man asked, "Well, shall we move on to Enoshima now?"

Looking at Tharin with a soft smile, Cullen assented, "Let's."

Unlike earlier, Tharin did not sit down in the train, so they both stood. Cullen realized the young man was being considerate, seeing as how his shorts were dirtied. Still, Tharin was plastered to the window on the door, keenly taking in the view as the train glided across the Tokyo riviera.

They finally arrived in Enoshima Station at 1636. It was easy to figure out which way the island was, as most people who got off the train here were walking toward the same direction through the narrow pedestrian way.

Both sides of the street were littered with little shops selling snacks and tchotchkes of all sorts. Tharin was lured into an old book shop that sold pocket paperbacks of his favorite Japanese authors. In turn, Cullen was lured into the neighboring shop that specialized in ceramics.

On a nondescript display table away from the swarms of busy tourists, Cullen discovered a pair of handleless stone-gray teacups that were finished with that especially coarse and grainy glaze common to Japanese pottery.

On each of their side was a long brushstroke of white paint with little flecks of black sand, asymmetrical and dissimilar. On their insides were ombres of imperial yellow extending from top to bottom. The color patterns were almost postmodern and avant-garde in their inconsistency.

After searching the Internet for a minute, Cullen finally remembered what the teacups symbolized. Wabi-sabi, that's what it was. The traditional Japanese aesthetic of embracing imperfection and transience of everything. It was in one of the books he had read up on Japanese culture before being stationed here.

He usually put emphasis on experiences rather than souvenirs, but he wanted to get Tharin something. Cullen wanted to get them to thank the man for giving him a second chance. Despite all his imperfections, Tharin must like him at least a little. And that was a splendid thing.

He paid the storekeeper with six hundred-yen coins from his coin purse – a must-have in Japan, where cold hard cash still reigned supreme over all other means of transaction. He then exited the shop with a well-wrapped brown paper package in his hand to find Tharin waiting outside, already engrossed in a pocket-sized book in his hand.

Cullen tapped Tharin on his right shoulder. He held the package out at the young man and stated as casually as he could, "I got you these."

Tharin emitted a noise of surprise and accepted the gift. He asked, "What is it?"

"Just some teacups." Cullen nodded, "You can open it, if you want."

Staring at Cullen curiously, Tharin tore open the paper package. He grabbed one of the teacups and admired it, "They're pretty."

"I'm not cultured enough to understand the significance of the decorations on the teacups, but I thought you may like them."

With a brilliant smile, Tharin squeezed Cullen's left bicep. "Thank you. But I'd like you to keep one of these. As a memento of today."

Cullen did not feel like protesting the decision, which was highly unusual for him. "That's a good idea. But will you hold onto it until we head home? I've no place to put it."

Tharin glared at Cullen in playful annoyance, "You just want me to lug this around everywhere, don't you?"

Cullen just crinkled his eyes in muted delight.

After a few more minutes of the pedestrian way, they reached the bridge that connected the island to the mainland. It was a long walk, but Cullen just listened to Tharin translate and read off Enoshima factoids from the Japanese Wikipedia. It was hard to look away from the young man, all serious and matter of fact about something that wasn't even that important.

The ocean wind blew fiercely, and the palm trees planted on both sides of the narrow strait swayed. Palm trees weren't uncommon sights around Yokosuka either, but it was still strange to think of them growing in Japan. It wasn't as though this were a tropical paradise like Hawaii or Bora Bora, yet here they were.

As they followed little clumps of mostly Asian tourists, they saw the bronze torii archway that signaled the beginning of the trail to the Shinto shrine that occupied much of the island. Its color had turned to celadon green, attesting to its age.

The first torii was followed by a crimson torii and lion statues on either side of it, and then by stairs that led to a stone gate with an elaborate observation tower on top.

But before they could pass the stone gate, Tharin made a noise of mirth and padded over to a little glass and wooden box standing in the middle of the steps. It held some sort of scrolls that people were picking out one by one.

Tharin got his coin purse out and took out two of the hundred-yen coins. He then dropped them in a little slot attached to the box's side and fished out a scroll from within. He unrolled the scroll and mouthed its words silently. And then he huffed a hollow laugh.

"What is it?" Cullen asked, feeling inquisitive.

"It's a fortune. It tells you stuff about your general luck, your romantic luck, and your career luck. Would you like one?"

"Sure, why not."

Tharin gestured Cullen closer to the box and dropped another couple of hundred-yen coins in. Cullen mirrored Tharin's movements and fished his own fortune out. He unfurled it and beamed as he handed it to the other man.

"Ok… This is Number Thirty-Three. As for your general luck, it says you should experience everything firsthand to actually comprehend it. If you seek out these experiences, you will find yourself in luck. As for your career luck, it tells you not to be afraid, but to set your eyes on the goal in front of you. Do not neglect the things you must do, keep pushing onward."

"Ah, so it's basically tenets to live by more than fortune," Cullen chuckled and realized he could come off as impertinent. He bit down his bottom lip, trying to seem serious.

"I suppose. Good words to live by," shrugged the young man.

"What about my romantic luck? Are you not going to tell me what it says?" Cullen teased, knowing it would elicit some sort of reaction from Tharin.

And of course, the young man reacted. He stuttered quite terribly, "N-no. I mean, yes. I mean, I will tell you. Hold on…" He cleared his throat exaggeratedly and began, "Nothing will be accomplished if you only think and don't take an action. There must be lots of things you could do, such as talking to the person you are interested in… Or seeing them in person."

Cullen stretched and exhaled forcefully. Feeling earnest, he asserted, "I'd say I've done exactly that. I've talked to you, and we are together right now. So, I guess I'll be in luck."

It was strangely satisfying to see the young man just all kinds of flustered. Tharin murmured, "Yeah…"

Maybe it was unfair for Cullen to push on, but that was exactly what he determined to do. "What about yours? What does your romantic luck say?"

"I-I'm not telling you," stammered the young man.

Cullen just laughed and put his arms behind his head, walking ahead and leaving Tharin behind. He could hear the other man rapidly shuffle.

Hopefully, Tharin got the hint.

While Enoshima was delightful in that particularly Japanese way of tightly packing nature and the artificial together in a sort of neat and agreeable bundle, it was also teeming with people. Tourists and locals alike seemed to number in thousands. They were everywhere, which made the island an inappropriate place to light the sparklers.

Because Tharin did bring sparklers, as he had threatened. The young man opened his bag wide and showed them off with a wicked simper.

Well, nothing was stopping them from lighting the fireworks on the island. It would have just made them a public menace, like those American troops caught throwing sparklers at civilian passersby in Korea last year. That seemed like one of the worst choices they could make.

So, they decided to grab a quick supper and then return to the abandoned beach by Kamakurakōkōmae Station to celebrate Independence Day.

As the sky began to take on the slightest tint of red, they headed back to the mainland and walked for approximately twenty minutes. Tharin was leading Cullen toward the unknown, and Cullen followed without a complaint.

After walking along a river for a while, they finally arrived at a restaurant. In colorful letters arranged on a wooden block, it said KAMOME SHOKUDO. Like the izakaya they went to in Tharin's neighborhood, this place was on the first floor of a residential unit surrounded by two-story houses, all prim and proper.

The restaurant certainly did not lack in character. Unlike the neighboring houses that were almost uniformly painted off-white, the restaurant was vibrant pink, the kind one may see on houses on the Côte d'Azur. Even the place's mailbox was neon pink.

Its porch was dotted all over with potted plants. Two bicycles with baskets sat next to the porch, obviously been in use for years.

The front door was open, so they walked in. The inside was not air-conditioned, but it was all right. With the setting sun, the earth had begun to cool down quite a bit.

The place was homely in the literal sense. The interior had the bearings of a regular housing, though things had obviously been moved around to turn it into a functioning restaurant.

The young woman standing at the counter, seemingly out of place with her evident foreignness, greeted them enthusiastically in English. She was obviously just out of high school with freckles, platinum blonde bangs, and skinny jeans. She guided them to a far corner inside, passing a few customers absorbed in their phones. They arrived at an area that looked like a glass solarium overlooking a tiny, but lush garden.

All the tables and chairs were mismatched, but it made everything cozier. The seats were covered with handmade cushions that were just as mismatched, if not more. The windows, the frames of which were painted neon pink as well, had been half-obscured with bamboo blinds, and the sun shined on them softly.

This is a hipster paradise, thought Cullen amusingly.

When they sat down at their table, the young woman handed them menus with pictures and declared in a jocular way that suggested she was starved to socialize in her native tongue, "Alright, guys. Name's Sera and I'll be your server today. Just lettin' you know, I'm here to surf mostly and you guys are the first people that are not Japanese I've served."

Her accent was definitely some sort of British, maybe English, but Cullen could not place it. To his untrained ears, it sounded similar to Cockney, but it wasn't that. Lots of consonants never fully developed into full sounds. Some R's gone soft, and G's at the end of certain words gone missing. Lettin' instead of letting. The accent was so thick in some places that he had to strain to understand the words being uttered.

Cullen felt slightly bad for her. He understood how isolating it could be to live in a foreign country all on her own. So, despite the fact that he was on a date, he offered, "Would you like to sit and chat with us for a bit?"

Tharin made a face at Cullen as Sera's whole visage lighted up. "Yea! I mean, it's not like I've better things to do." She proceeded to drag a chair from the next table remarkably loudly. She then sat down on it backwards, hunched over, and folded her arms over the table.

Cullen barely had the chance to look at the menu before Sera asked, obviously in jest, "So… You guys on a date or somethin'?"

The young man scowled uncomfortably as Cullen cleared his throat and redirected his gaze to outside the window, focusing on the pink rose bush that had taken over a significant patch of the garden.

Sera did not know how to modulate her volume. Her voice was inexplicably stuck at shouting. "Oh. My. Gawd. You are on a date! It's adorable, innit?!"

After a minute of stony silence, Sera continued, "Don't mind me, you two. Pretend I'm not even here."

Tharin obviously decided to take her advice to heart. His warm voice rang, "Okay, do you like eggplants?"

Cullen was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to make a lewd joke but pressed it down. Sera, however, did not. She began to giggle uncontrollably and said in a strained voice, "I bet pretty boy over here wants to give some eggplants to ya, right? Or, or, maybe it's the other way around? Well, you can both give eggplants to each other."

As Sera panted from all the exertion of cackling like a maniac, Cullen was doing his best to ignore the barrage of eggplant jokes. He looked straight ahead at Tharin and croaked, "Um, sure. I like them fine."

Sera sniggered in a tone that must have been subdued for her, "He likes them fine! Gawd!"

Avoiding Sera's mischievous grayish blue eyes, Tharin began to speak rather forcefully, "Awesome! Do you want to try eggplant and ground pork fritter? They basically sandwich a pork patty in between two slices of eggplants and shiso leaves, bread it, and deep fry it. It's really good." The young man stared at Cullen expectantly, to which he could only nod in agreement.

Tharin looked keen, but still paused before saying, "If you'd like, you could look at the menu and pick something else. I don't want to force you."

Instead of answering the young man's question, Cullen reached out and clutched the young man's right hand, disregarding Sera still sitting next to them. "You've been here before, right? I'll have what you recommend."

The young man peeped, "Not in years. Things haven't changed at all though."

"Jesus Christ, guys, your cuteness is makin' me vomit!" Sera made a retching noise, pointing at her tongue.

The young man clearly could not hide the irritation any longer. He turned and spat, "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like other customers to serve?"

Sera was unperturbed. Instead, she stuck her tongue out before arguing, "I'm done with the lot of 'em. They're perfectly happy on their phones. So, you can suck it." She then tetchily asked Tharin what he wanted for supper.

The young man wordlessly pointed at a picture in the menu and added, "And a yuzu chu-hi, if you've got them. And a pint of Sapporo." Sera whipped out a notepad to write everything down.

After she was done with the actual waiting part of her job, Sera grabbed the menus, turned to Cullen, and declared, "I like you better." She then gave Tharin the stink eye before walking away.

After Sera shuffled away with the menus, the young man hurriedly added, "I got the Sapporo for you. You didn't get a drink, so I thought you might want one. I hope that's okay."

He had forgotten all about drinks in the ruckus. "Ah, of course. Thanks."

As silence descended upon the two men, they turned to look at the garden at the same time, as though they had agreed in advance. They needed some time to recover from a whirlwind that was Sera.

It was a pretty garden, albeit small. In addition to a rose bush, there was a large tree that had green flowers all over. Cullen unfortunately knew nothing about arboriculture, so he just had to surmise wildly about the tree's identity.

But then, the side of himself that he did not particularly relish, the side that prodded him with all the insecurities, compelled him to bring up something he shouldn't. It felt like a waste of courage summoned in order to say something pointless, but he nevertheless stated haltingly, "I was worried… that our first… uh… date was bad." He couldn't look at Tharin.

"Yeah, I know. I feel like I should've been more considerate." The young man's voice was timid, so unlike his usual confident demeanor. It prompted Cullen to look directly into the cobalt irises facing him.

Cullen disagreed vehemently, "God, no. You were perfect. I feel like I brought down the mood by talking about dark family stuff."

Tharin shook his head as his mouth began to curve upward. "No, I really appreciated you telling me."

"So… I guess… It wasn't a total disaster?" With his hands gathered and his thumbs rhythmically tapping, Cullen asked with his heart in his throat.

"Not at all. In fact, I'd say Kumiko has a crush on you. A sign of a successful outing if there was ever one."

"She isn't the one I'm interested in," said Cullen in a mock frustration. To this, Tharin simply chuckled and gazed deeply into his eyes. The blue irises were unwavering.

And yet, Cullen's insecurities kept on goading him. "Just making sure… that was a… a date, right?"

Tharin seemed almost offended as he nodded vigorously. "Of course! Cullen, I really like y–"

The moment was interrupted by Sera humming to herself as she brought over a platter laden with two dishes, two sets of silverware, and two drinks. Cullen and Tharin straightened their postures and watched as Sera laid everything out.

She made a point of dropping the dish in front of Tharin rather than carefully setting it down. It clanged and reverberated against the wooden table. In an affected deep voice, Sera grumbled at the young man, "Enjoy," and Cullen had to suppress laughter.

Cullen's food looked amazing. Two eggplant and pork fritters were cut into bite-sized pieces and laid on top of a pool of viscid demi-glace. On one side of the fritters were oven-roasted vegetables. Cherry tomatoes, shisito peppers, and shaved leeks. On the other side was a small mound of white rice. From the plate emanated a delicious aroma that sucked Cullen in.

In front of Tharin sat an irregularly shaped cream-colored bowl piled with what looked like little bits of string and a side of Caesar salad.

Waving his fork, Cullen said diplomatically, "That… looks interesting."

Tharin sniffed in amusement. "Yeah, it's not exactly the most appetizing-looking food, I realize now."

"What is it?"

"Hmmm, I don't know the English word for it. Hold on." Tharin whipped his phone out and rapidly typed. In a blink of an eye, he was scrolling down as he read. "It's a rice bowl with whitebait. Fry of fish. Half boiled and half marinated in soy sauce. I had heard it's an Enoshima delicacy, but I never had the guts to try it before."

"Huh, well, no time like the present, I guess."

"What can I say, you make me want to try new things," shrugged the young man, the vermilions still curved.

It was unreasonable how easy Tharin could shake Cullen's heart like that. He breathed after a pause, "…I'm not going to try it even if you sweet-talk to me."

The young man rolled his eyes as the tension broke. "Aww, you are mean. Your loss."

Cullen tucked into the food with gusto. He was quite famished, and the fritters were arguably the most delicious thing he had ever had. The crispy panko breadcrumb layer gave way to soft eggplant, which tightly hugged a juicy, umami-filled pork patty. Shiso leaves between eggplant and pork layers brought everything to a minty, refreshing aftertaste, making sure Cullen would not get tired of the deep-fried entrée so soon.

As an enlisted sailor, Cullen was already used to eating quickly. He usually spent less than ten-minutes on a meal. But this needed to be savored. This was not just another meal. This was a gourmet cuisine. Well, gourmet as far as he was concerned.

Unfortunately, he could not rid of his habit in one sitting. While Tharin was less than halfway through his rice bowl, Cullen's silverware never ceased moving, and he finished everything on his plate. Now he sat back and quietly sipped his beer. All this despite the fact that they were on a date, in which one was presumably expected to impress the other with his manners and conversation skills.

With his pint of beer empty as well now, Cullen watched Tharin as though the young man were entertaining.

To be completely honest, he certainly was entertaining. He was chewing the food like he was determined to finish something odious.

Cullen asked, trying to stifle laughter, "So, is your food delicious?"

Tharin replied sarcastically, "Oh yes, the best supper I've ever had." He then hummed, "It's not bad. It just… tastes of nothing more than an ocean. I don't know how else to describe it. I think it's supposed to be this bland."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," answered Tharin unconvincingly.

Out of the blue, Sera surprised them with a blaring "Hi!" like a Canada goose let loose at a local park. Cullen turned toward the woman to find in her hands a large piece of matcha tart. She put them down on Cullen's side of the table. Her eyes level with Cullen's, she insisted, "This is free dessert for you. Not for him. Understood?"

Cullen snorted inelegantly and nodded, barely able to repress the laughter that was seeping out of his throat.

Sera then turned to Tharin and blew a raspberry. She walked away with Cullen's empty plate and pint glass, leaving behind an unnamed tune she had been humming from before. Tharin's face was turning beet red, and Cullen had to look away before his body betrayed him with guffaws.

Tharin mumbled bitterly, "Too bad we can't tip her terribly."

As he took the new fork, Cullen playfully teased, "I'm going to finish this whole tart."

Tharin seemed to scrutinize the new plate of food. Upon locating another fork, he complained, "That's not fair. She obviously brought two forks so we can both have it."

"She told me it's for me only. So, try and stop me, whitebait boy."

"Challenge accepted," proclaimed Tharin as he grabbed his chopsticks again. He began to eat faster, letting the food barely stay in his mouth long enough to chew before swallowing.

Cullen leisurely watched the other man as he bit into the first forkful of the tart. The creamy flavor of white chocolate, grassy matcha flavor, and buttery crust all combined to form a heavenly concoction. He exhaled, feeling happier than he had been for a long time.

Cullen insisted that he pay for the supper. He argued, "You paid for supper last time, and we met again. I'm just doing this so I can see you again."

Tharin meekly assented, his cheeks aflame.

Turned out, paying for supper had an additional benefit he had not foreseen. While Cullen took care of the bill with Sera, Tharin stepped outside. Taking the chance, he exchanged phone numbers with the woman, which the young man would definitely not approve of if he found out. But Cullen liked Sera despite her vulgarity, and he knew she needed a friendly ear. If he could fulfill that role, so much the better.

By the time the two men caught the slow train from Enoshima and returned to the spot where they shared their first real kiss, even the last fragment of the sunray had disappeared beyond the ken. It was 1905.

As the streetlights came on one by one above the embankments, the two men lighted Tharin's sparklers with a lighter.

"Happy birthday, America!" yelled the young man.

"Happy birthday, America," chortled Cullen.

Tharin wildly waved the sparkler in front of himself. Cullen merely held it out, engrossed by the dizzying pattern of light the young man was giving off.

Finally able to assess their second date as a success, at least compared to their first, Cullen was able to broach a sensitive topic with only a little bit of nerve. "You know, I'd given up on you. You texted me to check if I got in okay, and then nothing."

The young man tsked. "You could've texted too."

"I didn't think you liked me."

A deep sigh. "Cul…" Tharin sounded somewhat frustrated as he confessed with his head hanging low, "It was my nerves that prevented me from contacting you for weeks. I like you. A lot. Probably more than I really should at this point. After all, we're on our second date. But…"

When the young man lifted his face, there was only shining affection, and Cullen was grateful. "I like seeing you happy. I want to make you happy. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. Completely." Cullen moved his sparkler to his left hand, extended his right hand, and gripped the young man's hand. He twined their fingers. "I like seeing you happy too, Tharin."

Together, they watched the sparklers burn brilliantly until their lives were spent.

After they finished all the sparklers, they began to ramble toward the train station. Tharin in the front with Cullen in tow. They had to catch the 1951 train back to Kamakura for Cullen to make it back in time.

They were standing shoulder to shoulder on the platform when Tharin declared without turning toward Cullen, "We should go see real fireworks. There's a big one coming up soon."

"Where?" Cullen turned to see the young man staring at the night sky.

"The Sumida River. Uh… It's near Asakusa, I don't know if you've been."

"No."

Tharin turned toward Cullen and exclaimed, "Then we should definitely go!" He stroked the stubble on his chin as he spoke, "We'd have to travel all the way to downtown Tokyo, but it's totally worth it."

It wasn't at all difficult for Cullen to allow Tharin's whim to conquer him. "Alright, if you think it'd be fun."

"I know it'll be fun. I promise."

Cullen watched Tharin as the young man began to fidget. Hesitantly, Tharin began, "Here's the thing: the fireworks show is at the end of July. I'd like to see you again before then, if you don't mind."

It was entirely too embarrassing to feel his cheeks heat up. Cullen muttered, "Oh, um, yes. I'd also really like to see you sooner."

There was a training exercise coming up in the middle of July, and there was absolutely no way he could secure another liberty so soon. Yet, because disappointing Tharin was the last thing he wanted to do, Cullen decided to be roundabout. "But I can't guarantee I could get a day off just like that."

Tharin seemed to understand the implication. He dropped the subject at least. "Ah, alright. I guess I'll just have to be patient."

At that moment, a train rumbled into the station. It was mostly empty, like the platform the two men were standing on.

Suddenly, Tharin pushed Cullen against a steel beam pillar next to them, grabbed his collars, and kissed him. Their lips brushed before opening, and their tongues danced fiercely. Cullen could hear his heartbeats thump in his ears as the train emitted the shrill braking noise.

With his hand still firmly holding onto Cullen, Tharin broke from the kiss and susurrated, "That's… for making me wait until the end of the month."

END NOTE

Finally, a date that's not cringeworthy! Except for the part with Sera...

Next up, what comes after a bunch of dates?

Comments, reviews, and critiques are always welcome but never obligatory! Thank you for reading!