Aptly enough for today, a pyrotechnics chapter, in more ways than one.
TRIGGER WARNING! Some biphobic and homophobic remarks. Mild suicidal ideation.
While Tharin was in the shower, Cullen washed his face in the kitchen sink and checked if his yukata had been stained. Fortunately, it was still pristine.
Before they dressed up in matching yukatas, the two men sat on the bed – still unmade, which bothered Cullen a tiny bit – in their underwear and shared two slices of peanut butter and banana toast. Tharin held up the family-sized jar of peanut butter and proudly declared, "Couldn't find peanut butter at the supermarket, so I got it cheap online. See how resourceful I am?"
Cullen crinkled his eyes and added puckishly, "You'll make a fine househusband one day." He then planted a deep kiss on the young man's peanut butter lips. He savored the taste. He would have to stifle the urge to lunge at Tharin's lightly crimson lips once they were outside the four walls of this apartment. It was not appropriate to be overly affectionate in front of thousands of Japanese spectators. After all, for such a technologically advanced country, Japan could be surprisingly conservative.
As they readied themselves to leave, Tharin grabbed a black drawstring bag and put his phone and his wallet in. He held it out, saying, "Yukata's great and all, but it doesn't have pockets. You can put your stuff in there too."
It was only then Cullen realized his stuff was sitting on Tharin's desk along with his folded clothes. The young man must have folded them while he was in the shower. Funny, because the rest of the apartment was less than perfectly tidy. Smiling to himself, Cullen took his wallet and his phone and dropped them in Tharin's bag.
As they put the getas on at the front entrance, Tharin handed Cullen two band-aids. With an enigmatic grin, the young man proclaimed, "Put this in between your big toe and second toe. You'll thank me later."
Band-aids worked like a charm.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, Cullen could definitely imagine the skin between his toes becoming chafed and bloody from the constant movement of the fabric thong. Sometimes it felt like Tharin was the elder in the relationship, what with his general knowledge and street smarts.
They boarded a Yokosuka Line train going north at 1654. This time, it was Cullen's turn to be enraptured by the outside view. He grew up in a smallish town in New Hampshire, went to college in a medium-sized city in Massachusetts, and consequently was not used to megacities.
As the train approached Shinagawa Station, residential and industrial areas entirely gave way to skyscrapers and overpasses of train tracks and roads weaving on top of each other in complicated patterns. He was properly in Tokyo now.
The train headed underground after Shinagawa, which was disappointing for Cullen who had been enjoying the view. They disembarked in Shimbashi Station, climbed the stairs only to descend again through a passageway to the Asakusa Line, and then took a subway train to Asakusa.
When they finally walked up the stairs leading outside, a different world emerged. Unlike glitzy skyscrapers of the central business districts, Asakusa was filled with three- or four-story commercial buildings covered in cement and tiles that must have been at least forty-years old. Neon signs proliferated on their walls.
Next to the station exit was a row of pulled rickshaws with their drivers waiting for potential customers. Their skin had been bronzed from the summer sun. And they had on an interesting mix of traditional tunics and contemporary spandex that accentuated their muscular buttocks and legs. Cullen could not help but admire their tight bodies. He kept giving them side glances, which the young man didn't seem to notice.
Thus, Asakusa neighborhood was an eclectic mix of the nineteenth-century and the twentieth-century aesthetics and twenty-first-century people. Tharin obliged by explaining the history of shitamachi, the districts along the Sumida River that were considered lowbrow. This was where the popular culture of early modern Japan flourished, before Tokyo was Tokyo.
The sidewalks were filled with hundreds of tourists, all heading toward the same direction. It was probably for the Sensō-ji Temple.
Before they were swept into this veritable wave of people, Tharin and Cullen nimbly stepped into a convenience store right next to the station exit and the covered arcade. There, Tharin purchased two cold bottles of matcha and mentioned, "We should be able to get some beer at the food stalls." Cullen nodded in agreement. The young man knew what he was doing.
After they exited the convenience store, they followed the flow of the tourists on the sidewalk. It soon widened into a plaza, in the middle of which stood a giant structure with a bright red lantern in the middle. Cullen knew that this was the Kaminarimon, the outer gate of Sensō-ji. Hurried research before the date paid off, and he wasn't completely ignorant of his surroundings.
The gate stood out amongst gray and beige mid-century structures. It was showy. Its pillars, eaves, and beams were all painted carmine. The edges of the large eaves were gilded, and the sunray reflected on them. On either side of the gigantic red lantern stood two wooden sculptures of the Shinto gods of wind and thunder, angrily admonishing the sinners passing by them.
As Cullen traced in his mind the black letters stamped on the lantern, Tharin snorted. He turned to find the young man looking up at the gate as well. He asked, "What's so funny?"
"Oh, it's stupid. I was thinking how funny it is that we're watching fireworks in a temple associated with thunder."
"Ah, because kaminari means thunder."
"Yeah. Did you look into the temple before we came?"
Cullen proudly pronounced, "Yup."
"You're amazing." Heedless of the throngs of tourists and locals surrounding them, Tharin planted a quick kiss on Cullen's cheek. At least they were neither the only foreigners nor the only people in some form of kimono. They could blend in all right.
With every part of his head heating up, Cullen peeped, "Don't give me too much credit. All I did was look it up on the English Wikipedia. I couldn't tell you much more than what the gate's name means."
Tharin reached and gripped Cullen's right hand. Cullen lurched from surprise but realized immediately that their hands would be well-hidden by the crowd of people roving around them.
"Still, I say you're amazing."
Cullen could not be mad at Tharin for being affectionate. Even if they were in public in a country as socially conservative as Japan, he could never be mad about that. So with his face still heated, Cullen nevertheless let the corners of his lips curl up.
Tharin let go of the hand once they passed through the gate, which aroused both relief and disappointment in Cullen in equal measure. In front of them was Nakamise, a long stretch of road leading to the main temple that was filled with small shops.
Expectedly, there were souvenir shops galore. There was a shop selling just dried beans. A shop dedicated to getas. A store with just Hello Kitty goods. A rental shop for yukatas. A bakery enticed Cullen with its delicious aroma, and he was already getting hungry, but they were going to sup soon. He decided to endure just a little longer.
Something must have caught Tharin's eyes because the young man was straying from the straightforward path. He headed toward an open-air shop selling framed ukiyoe woodblock prints and fans.
Tharin moved quickly. He picked out a fixed paper fan with a scarlet and navy-blue painting of Mount Fuji that had been hanging outside on the divider, took out his wallet from the drawstring bag, and paid the shopkeeper in one smooth move.
As the young man approached with a fan in his hand looking triumphant, Cullen chortled and asked, "Aren't fans… I don't know, usually reserved for ladies? The ones from Jane Austen novels?"
Tharin scoffed and gave Cullen a good-humored glare. "Hey, that's pointless gendering. Besides, I'll have you know, a fan is a manly accessory in Japan." He was right. Youthful Japanese men in yukata – couldn't have been more than twenty – passed by them holding fans along with cloth bags.
The young man walked around him and stuck the fan in the sash on Cullen's back. "Here. Since I'm carrying a bag, you can carry the fan on your back. It's your punishment for being sexist."
Cullen flippantly saluted and replied with a cheeky grin in his voice, "Aye aye, sir."
Once they were through the shopping street, they came upon the main entrance to the temple, the Hōzōmon, which was twice as grander as the Kaminarimon.
The same style of architecture, with carmine pillars, gilded edges, and tiled roofs. This gate had two stories, the top of which served as an observation deck, as opposed to the Kaminarimon's one. A total of three lanterns were hanging from its entrance: one red, like the one at the Kaminarimon, and two black and gold. There were two Dharmapala guardian sculptures on each side of the gate, once again looking powerful and awe-inspiring.
But this gate did not impress Cullen like the Kaminarimon did earlier for some reason. And Tharin evidently had the same reaction. The two men breezily passed through, not minding the tourists taking photos of the gate all around them.
When they entered the temple, there was a courtyard with a row of traditional single-story building on each side of it.
Tharin trotted toward the right row and beckoned Cullen. "They have fortunes here too. You wanna get one?"
"Sure."
"Ok, a hundred-yen coin through this slot. Here's the container with all the numbers. Shake it and you'll get a stick with a number on it." Cullen followed the instruction diligently. He put a coin through a rusted slot on the counter, picked up a hexagonal steel container, and shook it. It made a fun sound that reminded Cullen of shaking a thin cardboard box full of spaghetti, the sort you could buy at any supermarket back home.
Eventually, a wooden stick jumped out through a tiny opening he had missed before. The number was written in Chinese characters. He handed the container to Tharin, who murmured, "Number Ninety… Eight…"
The side of the building the two men faced had a built-in wooden cabinet. Tharin scanned through the drawers until he found the one he was searching for. He pulled out a sheet of paper the size of half the ordinary stationery.
The fortune was translated into English, which was a boon for Cullen. They huddled together as Tharin read it out loud.
"Ok, Number Ninety-Eight… Oof, bad fortune. Oppressed with sorrow, you can't tell whether it is right or not? Your wish will not come true? The sick person is hopeless? The person you are waiting for will not come…? Jesus, they keep piling it on, don't they? This is seriously the worst fortune I've ever seen."
Cullen shrugged and folded the fortune. He then shoved it under the sash of his yukata.
"Why are you keeping it? You can tie it and make it go away." With a frown, Tharin pointed with two hands to a rack next to them that had ten steel rods installed on it. There were bad fortunes tied to the rods aplenty.
"It's still my fortune. Besides, it's hard to be pessimistic when I'm with you," chuckled Cullen, not taking it seriously. "Okay, now it's your turn."
Tharin hesitated. "…I think I'm good. I read somewhere that Sensō-ji fortunes have a lot of bad ones."
Cullen quirked his brows. "Did you just use me as a guinea pig?"
"…Maybe…?"
"Thar…" He didn't mean to, but the nickname for Tharin slipped out naturally. It was as if he had called the young man Thar a thousand times before.
Probably to clear the air and shift the attention away from the bad fortune, the young man beamed and exclaimed, "Hey, you made a nickname for me! We're really dating, aren't we."
Cullen sniffed in amusement. "Of course, we are." He approached the other man and lightly toused the raven hair. The young man did not resist, and his smile became wider.
As they made their way toward the center building of the temple, Cullen noticed the crowd of people increasing ever more. Many happy tourists congregated around each other, taking photos of themselves, of the temple, of every insignificant thing that populated the temple grounds.
On either side of the temple's main hall were broad paths filled with food stalls. It was just after 1800, so there was about an hour left before the fireworks would begin, but all the stalls were up and running and there were queues stretching already. The temple grounds were bustling with festivalgoers in colorful yukatas, already staking out places to watch the show of the summer.
Tharin shook his head ruefully and added, "God damn it, I could've sworn this was a secret spot."
Cullen tenderly caressed the young man's right arm and intoned, "It's the middle of Tokyo. There was no way this was going to be left unknown. Plus, it's already a huge tourist spot even without the fireworks."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. But it's still kind of disappointing." He turned his gaze toward Cullen and apologized, "I should've known. A million come to watch the fireworks every year."
Cullen hummed, "Nonsense! I like it with all these people. It's lively." He grasped the young man's right wrist. "Come on, let's get some food before things get really crazy."
"Alright." The young man added hastily as he led the other man toward a line for what looked like pan-fried noodles with bits of meat and cabbage, "I'm paying today. I want to see you again, so I'll pay."
The food at the temple was inexplicably cheap. Two transparent plastic containers bulging open with a heaping serving of yakisoba – the pan-fried noodles were what yakisoba was, it turned out – cost only a thousand yen. Two skewers of plump chicken thigh meat cost measly four hundred yen. And most importantly, two cans of Sapporo were two hundred yens each, which was comparable to any convenience store.
The problem turned out to be finding an appropriate place to eat the food they bought. It already felt strange to be eating meat and drinking inside a Buddhist temple. Almost all the paths were filled with some sort of a stall, so there wasn't any good place to linger or sit down.
They went to check out the space behind the main hall. It was directly adjacent to a parking lot, but it did have trees and people were sparse compared to the front of the temple grounds.
The two men settled down on a ring of small boulders surrounding one of the trees. Tharin handed Cullen a pair of disposable chopsticks, and Cullen handed Tharin one of the Sapporos he had been holding.
Chicken skewers were scrumptious. There was that aroma of high-temperature caramelization that reminded Cullen of Chinese barbeque pork. The chicken had been seasoned with only salt and black pepper, but it was more than enough. Any other spice would have been redundant, and at worst would have covered up the flavor of the chicken itself.
He took the first bite of yakisoba expecting it to be similar to the American Chinese lo mein he had had countless times in his teenage years but was surprised to find it seasoned with Worcestershire sauce along with soy sauce.
It was an odd combination on an American palate to be sure, but he could not deny that it was bizarrely appealing. The tanginess and the sweetness of Worcestershire undercut the saltiness of soy sauce and brought the dish together.
The bonito flakes on top danced as heat from the noodles evaporated and provided even more umami. And finally, the pickled ginger served on the side cut through the greasiness of yakisoba. With such simple main ingredients of egg noodles, cabbage, and ground pork, the vendor managed to create a sumptuous fare.
After washing down the food with the rest of the cold beer, Tharin and Cullen stood up and cleaned up after themselves.
They made another round on the temple grounds and got themselves two bowls of shaved ice with Ramune-flavored syrup, coming in at three hundred yens each, before returning to the front of the main hall and waited for the fireworks to begin. Darkness of the night had descended around 1830, and at exactly 1900, they could hear muffled booms going off in the distance.
Half the people that had been swarming the courtyard halted their steps. Not that they could see the fireworks clearly from wherever they were standing.
The fireworks show was divided into two different locations. The first location had begun, but its view from Sensō-ji was partly obscured by the newer, taller buildings to the east lining the Sumida River. Most people caught on to this fact and began to roam around restlessly attempting to locate a better spot to view the fireworks.
Tharin looked disheartened by this recognition. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan this well at all. I should've had us get closer to the river. That way we could've seen the fireworks up close."
"No, this is fine." Relying on the comforting darkness of the night and the anonymity provided by the large crowd, Cullen twined their hands together and laid his head against the other man's right temple. "I just… love being here with you. That's all."
The young man began to susurrate, "Cul, I…" but did not finish the thought. Instead, he bit the bottom lip and squeezed Cullen's hand.
They stood amidst the crowd that ebbed and flowed all around them. The summer heat made their hands sweat, and they were in public with a thousand pairs of eyes that could turn at any moment to them, but neither let go.
Cullen actually made a game of spotting the fireworks rising above the concrete roofs of the buildings. Focusing on the lights frolicking across the night sky as well as the young man's masculine scent and body heat, everything else became a bit of a blur for him.
And for the second time in as many months, Cullen thought to himself, I am happier than I've been in a long time. He breathed in with a hitch at that sudden realization.
About half an hour later, fireworks began to emanate from the second location. It was coming from the direction of Nakamise, which gave Tharin an idea. "Let's backtrack. The second fireworks might be more visible!"
Cullen was content to stay on the temple grounds and watch the obscured fireworks with Tharin's hand in his. But the young man seemed to think the night was ruined and thus was determined to salvage it somehow, and he didn't have the heart to insist on staying. So, with a soft smile, Cullen assented.
As they left the main part of the temple and crossed the Hōzōmon, the road running south from Nakamise cut through the low-rise office buildings in Asakusa and seemed to open up to the Tokyo night sky.
And right at the moment when they looked up, a barrage of fireworks blossomed in the air. Upon the canvas of inky blackness that was tempered by the city's light pollution, the buds of fire flowers bloomed into petals that wilted instantaneously. Chrysanthemums and peonies of a hundred colors appeared and disappeared ceaselessly.
They weren't technically brilliant fireworks that were in fad these days, like the ones that had the lights arrange themselves into curiosities like a cowboy's hat or a shape of a heart. The ones that flashy global cities like New York or Hong Kong may show off on the New Year's Eve. But Cullen was standing next to Tharin holding hands, and the lights that exploded above them were just beautiful. That was more than enough.
Everybody standing in Nakamise was captivated by the flowers spreading across the sky and exclaimed as if to demonstrate their elation. Taking advantage of this, Cullen turned and pecked Tharin's right cheek. "This definitely beats the Fourth of July fireworks they have in my town."
Bumping their shoulders together, Tharin asked quietly, "Do you miss home?"
Cullen chuckled flatly and considered for a second. "I don't really have a home." This was a fact. "Since my parents are all dead."
Ever since his parents passed when he was but a teenager, Cullen had been feeling adrift. Not that he was an orphan. He had his siblings: Mia, Branson, and Rosalie. But they had their own lives like he had his own.
Rosalie, the youngest who without a complaint took over the mantle of the family caretaker from Mia when the eldest checked into a rehab, would text and check in once every two weeks or so, but he had been completely out of touch with Branson for months. He messaged and called Mia every week but kept the subject of their conversation light and fluffy, focusing mainly on weather or the differences between Japan and the United States. Mia did not need additional stress.
But maybe it was time for them, all of them, to know about Tharin.
With his hand refusing to let go of Cullen's, Tharin spoke in a low voice, "My mom died when I was only eleven. Ovarian cancer."
Cullen turned to find the young man still staring up at the sky. The lights of the fire flowers reflected on his blue irises, and they seemed softer than usual. Cullen couldn't help as he whispered, "I'm so sorry."
The young man gave him a sad smile, the kind he had never expected to see from someone as joyful as Tharin. And Cullen's heart thrummed heavily, almost knocking the wind out of him. It was as though he had witnessed something he should not have.
Cullen tried to refocus his attention back to the fireworks to no avail. Because he began to think about his family, which led to the thought of eventually returning to America.
Cullen began to contemplate the fact that both men were on borrowed time in Japan. His time here counted as sea duty and would last for forty-two months until August 2024. He had no power to alter the timetable in any meaningful way. But needs of the Navy came first, and there was even a slim chance he may be recalled and stationed somewhere else at any time.
According to the JET Programme website, Tharin's appointment was renewable only up to three years, and the young man had already been in Japan for about a year. It was possible to renew his appointment up to five years if his service was deemed exceptional, but it wasn't a guaranteed thing.
And once that time was up, the two men were likely to go their separate ways to different parts of the world, if not back home to different parts of the United States.
But relocation was not the only obstacle they would have to face as a couple in a committed relationship. The age gap was another issue they would have to confront. A seven-year difference was not something he could just wish away, as much as he would have liked to. If the question of leaving Japan did not cause a problem for them down the road, the age gap certainly would.
Twenty-three-year-old Cullen wanted different things out of his life than thirty-year-old Cullen, and that was a fact. So, Tharin's wants and goals were likely to clash with those of Cullen's because of that gap.
Cullen could not stop the question from forming despite the explosive shots of fireworks ringing across the air. Was it ethical or responsible to continue seeing the man with whom he had no stable future with?
For now, the serious matters remained purely theoretical. And unrestrained rumination was not only dangerous, but pointless as well. If things went the way Cullen hoped they would, they would have years together in Japan. So, he would consider these matters later, and he was grateful for the reprieve.
Later. That would come when Cullen could no longer overlook the fact that his relationship with Tharin was not perpetual and the expiration date was rapidly approaching.
Not for a couple years at the least. In all likelihood.
After the fireworks show was over, Cullen and Tharin began to move toward the subway station through Nakamise.
Not that they were walking as they would have normally. They were crawling at a snail's pace, hemmed in by an enormous crowd of festivalgoers in all directions. Tharin was correct. There seemed to be a million people milling about in here.
It took thirty minutes to pass through an eight-hundred-foot stretch of shops to reach the Kaminarimon.
Once they were finally out of the auxiliary shopping area of Nakamise, the pace quickened but only slightly. It took them an additional seven minutes to reach Asakusa Station.
The entire time they were moving toward the subway station, they had their hands enfolded. Part of Cullen was worried about the public's reaction at seeing two burly white men walking hand in hand, but the mere possibility of privacy provided by the vast and impossibly crowded metropolis was enough to assuage his fears for now.
There was no need to converse. The happy noise of a million people would surely have drowned out any kind of verbose review of the spectacle in any case. They were content to be in each other's company, to be connected in a real way.
But once they went downstairs to the platform jampacked with nondescript concrete pillars and people who smelled of the robust undertones of summer, Cullen's anxiety broke through the barrier he had placed so carefully and reared its ugly head once again. He let go of the linked hand and let apprehension take him over.
There was no way they could catch the first train or maybe even the second. Every train that passed by was already packed to the brim, regardless of the direction it was heading to. They would be stuck in this station for a while.
At this rate, Cullen and Tharin would not arrive back at Shimbashi Station until well near 2200, at which point he was supposed to rejoin with Thom Rainier.
Tharin may meet Thom Rainier. That had to be avoided at all costs.
Thankfully, they were able to get on the third train that stopped. Tharin was roughly pushed into Cullen as people around them jostled and shoved for more space, but the man could hardly pay attention to the young man in his bosom. All he could think about was every second, every minute passing as the train clunked along.
When they arrived in Shimbashi Station and climbed upstairs to the passageway connecting the two sets of platforms, Cullen began to walk faster than Tharin, enough for the young man to fall behind within a minute and try to catch up by jogging.
But it paid off. By the time they descended the stairs to reach the underground Yokosuka Line platform, it was 2141. Cullen anxiously checked the large signboard of train schedule in the middle of the platform. There was a train heading south in two minutes. The last train before the one Thom Rainier would be on. Relieved, Cullen slowly took a deep breath.
When the train glided into the station with a mechanical sigh, Cullen turned to find Tharin staring at him strangely.
"You seem antsy. What's going on?"
Cullen gesticulated weirdly at the arriving train as if his hands were somehow coming apart from his body and croaked, unpersuasively even to himself, "What? Nothing. You should take this train. I will wait for my buddy."
With his brow knitted, Tharin pleaded, "Can't I stay with you just a bit longer? We're all heading the same way. We can just go together."
"No, that's alright. You should head out now." Cullen hated that his voice was breaking. He was an awful fibber at the best of times. Now, his words were positively falling apart like putrid flesh of rotting carrion.
The train doors opened with a joltingly loud, repetitive beeping noise. As clumps of people got off the train, the sound of conversing individuals mixed into echoes of a cacophonous melody. On top of it rang a recurring insipid jingle and a barrage of a pre-recorded Japanese announcements in a saccharine voice. No one could hope to think clearly here. Nevertheless, Cullen needed to think clearly.
Tharin cocked his head, his cobalt blue eyes searching, "Cul, why do you need me to leave before you?"
"It's just… late. I want you to get home safely."
The statement hung over them like a tangible object. It was not believable. "…This is Japan, and I'm a fully grown man. Nothing bad's gonna happen. What's gotten into you?"
There was the same jarring beeping noise, a bout of pre-recorded English announcements telling everyone to "Please stand clear of the closing doors," and the southbound train closed its doors. The plan, if it could be called a plan, was moot now. Cullen felt the sweat on his back dry in cold dread as the train began to rumble out of the station.
Thom would meet Tharin. Cullen began to debate whether to introduce Tharin as his boyfriend or as a friend. They were on their third date and had never explicitly discussed the possibility of being boyfriends, but that seemed to be a distinct possibility at this point. Well, at least that was something that Cullen thought he wanted. Maybe.
He was stuck in a Catch-22. If he were to introduce Tharin as his boyfriend, he would be revealing himself as bi to his shipmate. This, he wanted to avert. On the other hand, if he were to introduce Tharin as a friend, it may break the fragile relationship they had been building. Cullen did not want to lose Tharin.
There was no good solution. Advance or retreat, he would have to face some sort of a negative consequence for his action.
All of a sudden, Cullen recognized that he was falling back on old obscurant impulses. Mia had been guilty of it in the years after their parents' death, when she became the sole breadwinner of the family. She would hold everything in, hide every sign of deterioration, and avoid every tough subject, hoping that she would be able to smooth over all spots of trouble by doing so.
Mia refused to discuss the household finances even with Cullen, the second eldest of the Rutherford children. And he'd picked up on her habit, going along with Mia's charade. Cullen was complacent all those years, thinking that the eldest had everything under control.
But instead of solving her problems, obscurant impulses drove her to opioids, and she consequently lost control of her life. The only saving grace was that the Rutherford children did not find out about Mia's charade of a life until they had all grown up. The family was kept together, but the family obligations broke Mia.
Cullen was doing the exact same thing now. By trying to hide his relationship with Tharin, he made things that much more complicated for himself. It was about to blow up in his face, and he knew. Wouldn't it be easier just to come clean? To acknowledge that yes, he was in fact bisexual and was okay with that fact.
Except Cullen could not be sure if he was okay with his being bi. If he felt the need to come up with an elaborate ruse to hide Tharin away, wasn't part of him ashamed of his bisexuality? The questions never ceased. Why must he be afraid of Thom? The Navy? What dire consequence could his coming out have?
Why had he never dated a man before Tharin?
As his brain short-circuited, Tharin's handsome face darkened. The corners of his mouth curled downward as a deep divot appeared between his brows. With an indiscernible tone, he began, "I see. This is about me running into your liberty buddy, is that it?" He crossed his arms, too firmly, too tightly. "Are you ashamed of being seen with me?"
"No! I-I love spending time with you. And I really, truly like you. So much. I like you so much." Cullen babbled. Everything was coming apart at the seams, and he did not know how to stop it. With his arms flopped to his sides, he helplessly watched. He dared not approach the young man.
There emerged a chasm between the two, the depth of which Cullen could not fathom.
And on the other side of that chasm stood Tharin, ablaze in justified anger. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you're ashamed of being seen with me. You're acting like a closeted man that's afraid of being caught with another man." The accusation seemed to set even the blue irises on fire, and Cullen could not look away. He wanted to, he just couldn't.
Tharin barked, "You might as well go back into the closet. It should be super easy for you. You're bi. You have options that I don't have."
Was that what Cullen was doing? Trying to will away his homosexual side? To pretend he was straight just because he could?
As Cullen questioned himself with no clear answer coming forth, Tharin loosened the drawstring bag and rummaged through it wildly. Determinedly staring down at the concrete platform with progressively reddening eyes, the young man thrust Cullen's phone and wallet at him, "Here, take your stuff."
Cullen's heart broke.
At the worst moment, as Tharin was holding his phone out, it vibrated. It was a text.
Tharin glanced at it and sneered, "Well, your liberty buddy is on the next train. Better hurry up and stash me away somewhere."
Cullen took his things as he digested the message. Thom was hurtling toward Shimbashi. But his liberty buddy was the least of his problems now. He must seek forgiveness, attempt to save the relationship while he still could.
While he still could.
Could he still?
"Thar, I'm sorry. Please, take the same train with me."
Tharin spat, his wrath still raging, "Oh, and I suppose I should be grateful that you are allowing me to be gay in the presence of your precious liberty buddy? What a generous offer. I'll pass. I'd rather take another route home."
Turning to leave, the young man uttered his final words, "Goodbye, Cullen Rutherford."
Tharin called him by his full name. And with the coldest voice he ever heard.
Something deep inside Cullen was shouting at him to stop the man, but he could not move a finger. He watched Tharin disappear above the steps, heading to another platform. Away from Cullen and his lie.
The train arrived with a minute to spare before the mandatory liberty buddy program became active.
Forlornness within Cullen upsurged to a frenzy of self-loathing. Now that he knew what it was like to have someone in his life, he could not hope to retrocede into that solitary existence. Carrying on suddenly seemed tiresome and nearly impossible.
Feeling despondent, Cullen saw himself leaping in front of the train as it charged in. But what a colossally terrible deed he would be inflicting on the poor, guiltless train driver and other passengers.
Cullen gritted his teeth until his ears rang. This was just a fleeting thought, nothing more. Besides, doing himself in like the tragic Anna Karenina was a profoundly bad solution to his problem; he could see it.
When the train came to a full stop and the doors opened, Thom Rainier was standing just a door away from where Cullen was standing. Lucky coincidence.
As Cullen dragged himself inside, Thom Rainier gawked at him. "So…"
Cullen looked away, but not before breathing a huge sigh. "What is it, Thom?"
"You've changed your clothes."
"Um. Yeah. I guess I have," said Cullen in a flat tone, looking down at the yukata that Tharin purchased for him. Every part of his skin that directly touched the robe became unbearably hot.
"Someone had fun today."
Cullen glowered. "Didn't you?"
And Thom was clueless. "Eh. Enough fun to last me until next liberty, I suppose."
Cullen did not add anything to Thom's cryptic statement. He turned around and watched fluorescent lights of the subway tunnel reflect against his grim face in the door window.
There were a plenty of seats, but he did not sit down. Neither did Thom.
Yet, it seemed that Thom's inquisition wasn't quite finished. With his expression frustratingly impassive, Thom nonetheless pointed to Cullen's back and asked, "What's with the fan?"
Cullen reached to his back and pulled Tharin's fan out of the yukata sash. He hadn't had a chance to look closely at the painting of Mount Fuji before. Its details were lovely. Like Tharin's smiling visage.
His heart thudded painfully.
Without giving any thought to how he sounded or how Thom would react, Cullen answered in a lifeless tone, "It's just a fan. Who cares."
The other man awkwardly scratched his bristly five o'clock shadow and fell silent.
Finally freed from the questioning, Cullen put the fan back on his back and peered at his own weary face with seething hatred and revulsion. His grip on the phone and the wallet became painful. He ruined everything, and the ruins of the relationships past and present gazed back at him with detached apathy through the window.
The harebrained ploy to keep Tharin and Thom apart proved that no small part of Cullen found his own bisexuality distasteful. And his internalized homophobia manifested as an anxiety that drove Tharin out of his life. He certainly could not blame this on the Rutherford clan's tradition of unhealthy stoicism. Everything was due to who he was and how he was as a man.
He caused this. And he deserved this. All of this.
Cullen roughly wiped his eyes with the heel of his left hand. The train emerged overground as it approached the next stop. Now, the harsh tunnel lights were replaced by iridescent glow of the urban sprawl. But the effulgence kept passing him by, never to mollify as he plunged deeper into the darkness.
END NOTE
Cullen and Tharin are respecting Japanese culture by properly wearing yukatas when they are traditionally worn, during summer.
So, yeah... That happened. You didn't think I'd forgotten angst, did you? If you need a dose of fluff to counteract the angst, may I suggest revisiting the Fourth of July chapter?
Next up, Cullen decides to be brave.