A really, really short interlude from Tharin's POV before more (a giant *flashing* sign here) things happen. Hope you enjoy!

Uncensored version found at: *AO3*/works/31047788/chapters/79445746

Tharin Trevelyan just had the best worst first date of his life.

As he strode away from Shin-Kawasaki Station, he thought about how Cullen looked upset. No wonder, Tharin was so thoroughly underwhelming during their date. In effect, Tharin ruined Cullen's precious weekend.

But it was not like he was in full control of his mental faculties. As soon as Cullen walked up to him, Tharin lost all sense of propriety and hugged the man. And that seemed to set the mood for the rest of the date. Cullen was quiet and Tharin was out of his mind trying to impress.

Ugh. Why did he have to show off his Japanese like an elitist nincompoop? And why did he have to jabber on about the history of Japanese curry? Nobody cared, certainly not Cullen.

As Tharin made a frustrated noise and shook fists at himself, he overlooked an elderly Japanese woman with a bent back and a walker shopping cart approach. She gave him a funny look, and Tharin felt his cheeks redden.

After that little encounter, he jogged the rest of the way back even though his wardrobe choice was less than optimal. He needed to put Cullen out of his mind if he were to function like a normal human being this week.

Out of breath, completely sweaty, and his polo shirt sticking to his armpits, he stood in front of the elevator bent over. He chuckled. It was funny how he still refused to take the stairs when all he wanted to do was to move his body and push the thoughts out of his mind.

When he entered the security of his own apartment, he closed the curtains and completely stripped down. He strewed the sweat-soaked clothes across the floor before he headed to the bathroom to take a cool shower.

The shower had the effect of clearing his mind, but it regrettably did not last. As he dried off and fastened the towel around his waist, Cullen's face kept inching back to the center of his consciousness.

Tharin couldn't quite believe he just had a date with a man who looked like… that. With blond hair cropped short and slicked sideways, intense wildflower-honey irises, high cheekbones, a wonderfully shaped nose, and a roguish scar above his lips, Cullen was a veritable Adonis.

He walked over to his desk, opened his laptop, and pulled up the language exchange site all without a break in his movement. He clicked on Cullen's profile and expanded the man's picture to its original size. No, his mind was not being hyperbolic. Cullen was that attractive.

Despite the allure of his good looks and the consequent self-assurance he must possess, the man was curiously reserved, though it was difficult to tell whether it was due to the date being so awkward or because of his innate nature.

But then, Cullen was the one who stepped up to embrace and kiss at the end, was he not? A chaste, close-mouthed kiss, but a kiss, nevertheless. Cullen would not have done that if he were completely put off by the date.

As he recalled the embrace and the kiss at the train station, Cullen's musk flooded Tharin's brain. It was covered up by some cheap deodorant with a mass-produced cologne imbued in it, but it was there. The sweet, grassy aroma that reminded Tharin of early spring.

Tharin whispered to himself, "Okay… I might be in trouble." He was falling for a man he may not see again. He hoped he was wrong on at least one account.

Over three weeks passed since that disaster of a date. After a short back-and-forth in which Tharin inquired whether Cullen made it back to the base before the curfew, there had been no further contact. Which he minded. Greatly.

Tharin stood on the balcony and drank from a can of yuzu chu-hi as he watched the sunset dye everything in the neighborhood orange. Two-story houses with tiled roofs, the public parking lot, and old telephone poles, all brilliantly orange.

A monsoon downpour passed over Kawasaki several hours before when he left work, and the air had only gotten muggier by the time he left the gym. So, Tharin took another shower as soon as he got home. Now, he was lounging in his sleepwear, which consisted of a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top.

Drinking chu-hi reminded him of Cullen. At Kumi, Cullen drank a pint of Sapporo with the enthusiasm of someone stuck in a desert while he drank chu-hi and silently observed the man.

The memory of their first date was already beginning to lose its sharp edges. Even his own mistakes seemed like a hilarious, quirky thing to recollect, to tell stories of at a small gathering over a glass of wine. Perhaps Cullen was thinking the same way too. And maybe Cullen would be more receptive to the idea of another date now.

Tharin needed an excuse to contact Cullen. Fortunately, he needn't think too hard. He had been sulking about how his JET Programme friend canceled the trip to Enoshima with him. She said she wanted to spend weekends with her new Japanese boyfriend, which was so perfectly reasonable that he could not even voice his displeasure. Patently unfair it was, but there was nothing to be done.

He loved Enoshima the last time he visited during his study abroad, but he went there alone and did not feel like making a solo trek once again.

But what if Cullen came out with him? The island was closer to Yokosuka than it was to Kawasaki and was a perfect place to make a day trip of it.

He perched over the concrete barrier and started to type on the phone.

Have you ever been to Enoshima?

The text cursor flickered lazily. Tharin promptly read over the sentence once and decided it was good enough. He hit the send button.

It did not take long for a typing bubble to transform into a message.

No. What is that?

Tharin could not believe how fast the reply came. Cullen must have been waiting for him as well. Sure enough, his confidence swelled, and he let his fingers glide across the screen with knowing certainty.

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

Silence. Not even a typing bubble. The response came after a good while.

Sure.

And Tharin knew he was victorious.

After finalizing the plan with Cullen, he put the phone away in his shorts' pocket, swigged the rest of the chu-hi, and crushed the can with his bare hand.

END NOTE

Cullen would be far more confident if he knew every thought going through Tharin's mind. But then, we can't have everything we want, can we?

Next up, fireworks! Lots of them!