TRIGGER WARNING! Some discussions of the Iraq War.

As soon as he returned to the barracks, Cullen fell asleep. He didn't have enough energy to clean up or even brush his teeth. He barely had the energy to take off the yukata before crashing into bed. Being able to fall asleep amid the rubbles of a crumbling relationship seemed like a blessing.

And when he woke up the next morning, things seemed much better even though nothing had changed. Trapped in a haze that foreshadowed a muddleheaded Sunday, Cullen managed to convince himself that this was yet another bad experience with dating. One day, he would look back at this memory with some fondness and not much else.

As he prepared a breakfast for one, he went even further and convinced himself that he was relieved by this turn of events. He no longer had to worry about the intricacies of maintaining a relationship in a foreign country with someone of the same gender. He told himself that dating Tharin had been taking too much out of him. And he thought he believed it.

After he finished breakfast and washed the dishes, he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and laid his phone out on the counter. With a sure movement, he unlocked it and pulled up the contacts.

Cullen stared down at the young man's number without any feeling, incessantly tapping his index finger on the counter's plastic laminate, wondering if he should erase it. He repeatedly pushed the delete contact button only to cancel the command the next second. In the end, he decided to keep the number.

Because deep down, Cullen recognized that he was not sure about anything that had to do with Tharin. Even though he had convinced himself that he was unaffected by the sudden disintegration of the relationship, he was affected. It was just in a way that he could not readily understand.

The radio silence continued unabated. But a full two weeks had to pass before the repressed emotions began to hit him.

One of the weaker typhoons of the season rushed through the Pacific just east of Tokyo Bay, and the winds were audible even through the concrete walls of the barracks. Cullen sat on his bed in his old running shorts and a frayed white T-shirt, a linen top sheet covering his lower half, texting with Rosalie. As their conversation wound down, she sent a message, I hope you're healthy and happy.

Cullen stared at the gray text bubble. It mocked him with his sister's thoughtful words. The text cursor kept blinking at him on the bottom of the screen, as though it were impatiently waiting for him to type out some sort of a benign response. But he couldn't. Because he realized that he would be lying if he said he was happy.

Tears prickled the back of his eyes, and he truly detested his own weakness. Tharin was just someone he dated, nothing more. Why was he shedding tears for something that ought to mean little to him?

Cullen tried to sniff back the tears to no avail, then attempted to wipe away any trace of lacrimal evidence with a fist. Nails dug into his palm and left lasting imprints, but he did not care. All he needed was for the tears to stop.

Eventually, he managed to text back, I'm doing fine. We'll text again next week. Love you, sis.

He was not happy. Being in a forced hiatus with Tharin was taking a larger toll on his psychological wellbeing than he had expected. And Tharin was gone because of Cullen's own stupidity and callousness. Finally, he recognized the truth that had been boring into his heart, and it smarted.

But the realization pushed Cullen to do one thing he had been avoiding unconsciously.

Going backward into the chat list, he saw Tharin's name on the fifth row. The last text from Tharin was sent on the day of their third and last date – a message saying he would meet Cullen at Shin-Kawasaki Station.

He paused for a few seconds but scraped together the last bits of courage he had left in him. The text cursor was there once again, blinking at him in the most infuriating way. He was unsure about what to write, but once he typed an ingenuous Hi, everything seemed to fall into place.

Hi. I must be the last person you want to hear from, but please hear me out.

I realize I've done something that's unforgivable, and for that, I am really sorry. Things still aren't that great for LGBTQ in the Navy, and I was afraid of the brass finding out about me being bi, but I should've come to you to discuss it. Covering it up and expecting you to go back into the closet was the worst thing I could've done. I am so sorry.

I wasn't lying when I said I love spending time with you. I like you a lot. More than I'd realized initially. You make me happy. Really, truly happy, and that is something I will always cherish, even if you don't like me anymore and we're done.

Thank you, Thar. And again, I am so sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you too much.

As soon as he sent the messages, the lengths of which were honestly not suitable to be texted, he locked the phone, plugged it to the charger, and put it on top of his laptop on the bedside table with the screen side down.

He turned off the light and lay down, a small part of him hoping for a quick response from Tharin. Even if it were an irate reply asking him to pay for the yukata and the getas, he would have preferred it over the lack of any communication. Because a reply would have defined their relationship one way or the other.

But it was not meant to be. Lying on his side facing the nightstand, Cullen waited with his gaze firmly planted on the phone. It refused to vibrate.

When the stillness of the stormy night overwhelmed him, Cullen swallowed down the hot mass rising from his throat and fervently pleaded for slumber. It failed to come.

A week later, Cullen still had not received any reply from the young man.

It was understandable. No, Cullen wanted to be understanding. What he had done was unforgivable. Deceit and treachery added to his internalized homophobia, no wonder the young man was repulsed by him.

On a random Sunday that hardly mattered and almost certainly would not be remembered by the future Cullen, with a significant part of him weighed down by guilt and loneliness, Cullen lackadaisically surfed the net.

Now that he had no reason to leave the base for liberty, he suddenly found himself with a good chunk of time that was completely unspoken for. Naturally, Cullen decided to find another book to start. But when he was cursorily going through his favorite site for book recommendations, he ran into a familiar name: Varric Tethras.

Tethras was a renowned nonfiction writer who used to be called a whiz kid of war reporting. He got his start in 2003 when the Associated Press hired him right off college to cover the Invasion of Iraq along with other more established war correspondents.

He was there to cover the northern front, managing to stick close to the Coalition units as they advanced on Kirkuk and Mosul. He published his first book in 2007, compiling his interviews with the Peshmerga and Kurdish civilians stuck in the war that would not end.

Cullen encountered his book in a class he took as a filler in college. But he became engrossed in the book immediately. With its beautiful prose that belied and accentuated the ugliness of entrenched ethnic and religious animosities that the U.S. had recklessly unleashed upon Iraq, the book was a masterpiece in nonfiction.

Not to say that Varric Tethras was a saint, Cullen knew he was not. Conflict and tragedy seemed to follow the well-known author wherever he went. Well, it would be the other way more precisely, like how accidents beckoned ambulance chasers. But there was a sort of poetic quality to the idea of a tragic hero, a man who refused to escape disasters coming his way so that he could tell a human story. And Tethras shamelessly nurtured and exploited this image to his benefit.

Tethras was traveling through Tokyo, Sapporo, Osaka, and Fukuoka before hopping over to Seoul to promote his latest book on the displaced people of northeastern Japan after the 2011 earthquake. It was apparently being translated from English to other languages including Japanese, which was the primary reason for something of a world tour he was about to embark on.

He was making an appearance at a bookstore in Yokohama on September 17 and 18. The bookstore was called… Kainokuniya. Where was it? Feeling actually thrilled about this, which was a change of pace he had not expected, Cullen quickly went to Google Maps to locate it. And it was… literally right next door to Yokohama Station.

He had to go see Varric Tethras. He even had the tenth-year edition of The Battle for the Greener Pasture with him. He could finally get it signed by the author himself.

And then somehow echoing that night in May when he first exchanged words with Tharin, an idea came to Cullen. Yokohama was a midpoint between Yokosuka and Kawasaki. If Tharin were amenable to it, they could meet and talk in person.

Because no matter what he told himself, whether that Tharin was no different than any other bad dates he had had before or that he had to respect Tharin's decision to never see him again, Cullen missed the young man. And there was no shame in admitting it, no matter what his internalized homophobia and the unwritten rules of the Navy argued.

Cullen lifted the phone and opened the chat with Tharin. Predictably, there was no response, not even a grunt of disapproval conveyed as a snarky "Ok, whatevs" or a "No." Ignoring that terrifying feeling of plummeting from a tall cliff and his heart beating like it was going to explode, Cullen began to type out another message.

I know I should let you be, but I can't. I miss you. And I probably don't deserve your forgiveness, but I will do anything in my power to make us work.

If you are willing to at least talk about us, please come out to Yokohama with me on Sat, Sep 18. I will wait for you on the central corridor of Yokohama Station from 9 to 9:30 am. If you don't come, I'll understand you don't want to see me anymore, and I'll stop bothering you.

Cullen paused, wondering if adding anything else would seem too desperate. But he decided he was desperate enough to try anything.

I like you so much. I will do my best to make you happy.

Unlike the last time, something in Cullen stopped him from putting the phone down. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the screen as a typing bubble appeared.

It appeared and disappeared several times.

Cullen swallowed roughly, waiting for the bubble to morph into an actual message.

You forgot to pick up the teacup. And your clothes are still here.

Okay. The response did not seem all that promising. Cullen's heart slowed as perceived rejection hit hard.

Another typing bubble popped up, followed by a quick series of messages from Tharin.

I should hate you, but I can't.

I don't.

I put away your clothes, but I keep opening the closet to look at your shirt.

Every time I do, I hoped you'd come through the front door as if nothing bad's happened between us.

I miss you too. More than I'm willing to admit, really. But I don't know if I can do this.

Well, here it was. The status of the relationship delineated. The edges of Cullen's heart seemed to abrade away into an insignificant pile of microscopic dust. But the typing bubble never ceased. He waited, waited for something better.

I'll try to be there. Yokohama St at 9 am on 9/18.

It was almost comical how euphoric Cullen felt right then. He realized he had been holding his breath as he stared at the screen and exhaled in relief.

In hindsight, Cullen probably should have thought about where they would go to discuss important matters first. But now that he had a chance to mend the broken relationship, he wasn't going to be complacent about it.

Cullen opened the Internet browser and began to search for Yokohama landmarks. On the first page he clicked, he found a perfect spot. It seemed serendipitous. The corners of his lips upturned in spite of the residual anxiety that constantly attempted to temper his exhilaration.

Cullen painstakingly planned out the day and logged the schedule on an app. And he certainly did his utmost to make sure that everything had been accounted for. The transit, the places the two men would go, and the lunch they would share, along with the approximate amount of time allotted for each activity.

First, they would head to Sankei-en Garden to take a midmorning stroll and talk about their relationship. And then they would take a local bus to Yokohama Chinatown for lunch, followed by the book signing event at Kainokuniya by Yokohama Station.

It had rained the day before, but the forecast called for a sunny day and the temperature was supposed to rise significantly as well. Cullen debated before ultimately deciding to take an umbrella with him, putting it in a messenger bag he dug out of the closet.

But he still dressed lightly. He settled on a pair of well-fitted jeans, a short-sleeved white V-neck shirt, and a slate gray linen shirt left unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to just below his elbow. As a finishing touch, he wore faded brown chukka boots.

He also made sure to take the book that he would have Varric Tethras sign and two bottles of matcha that Tharin particularly favored.

Before he departed, he scanned his bedroom to make sure he was not forgetting anything. Absolutely everything had to go perfectly today. No slipup would be allowed.

Instead of the usual Yokosuka Station, he took a bus to Yokosuka-chūō Station, whence he took the Keikyu Line going north. He arrived in Yokohama Station in a half hour at 0848.

Getting to Sankei-en Garden via Yokohama Station was a long way around that would cost Cullen at least a hundred yens more. But it was the most convenient place to make a rendezvous for Tharin. The young man would have to hop on over only one stop before reaching the destination. Cullen wanted to make this as easy for Tharin as possible.

Yokohama Station was far larger than Cullen had anticipated. Even though all the gates were connected to the central corridor, the corridor itself was too large for him to keep an eye out for everyone coming through. He had to alternate between north and south concourses.

Still, his attention never wavered once from the gates. His heart beat fast as he ambled around and combed over the crowd to locate Tharin.

The time marched on relentlessly. 0919. It had already been over thirty minutes since he arrived at the station, and there was no sign of the young man. Cullen was starting to lose hope, and the murky dread within him kept whispering, See? I told you so.

But he was not about to give up on Tharin just yet. He still had until 0930.

It was too easy, however, for despair to take over the narrative running through his head. Every text message, every word he exchanged with Tharin became twisted into something sinister. Ulterior motives, sarcasm, cynicism, and disillusionments.

Cullen leaned against a steel-plated pillar and began to trace the straight line of yellow tactile tiles on the middle of the floor with his eyes. It was the kind of mindless exercise he would indulge in whenever he felt down.

That's when he heard it. When he paused briefly to check the phone for the umpteenth time, he heard his nickname cut through the ambient noise.

"Cul!"

There was a tall figure standing amidst the crowd of busy people moving about ceaselessly.

Tharin was here, calling for him.

Without thinking, Cullen closed the space and tried to embrace Tharin. But the young man deftly stepped out of the hug.

He felt the heat of embarrassment reach throughout his extremities. Time seemed to screech to an abrupt halt as the noise of the crowd faded away. He had to force his legs to stand still, lest they allow him to run away from this spot, away from Tharin.

Cullen belatedly noticed that the young man was not his usual jovial self and realized that he had committed a grave mistake. All he could do now was to somehow recoup from this situation. He took a step away from Tharin and whispered, "Sorry about that… And thank you for coming."

The young man said nothing as he nodded. It was emotionless, perfunctory, like greeting some unimportant acquaintance. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be shrinking before Cullen's very eyes, his right hand tightly holding onto his left arm. Everything was changed, and the month and a half they had been apart did not help the matter.

Tharin's ambivalent expression remained in place along with the prolonged silence that materialized between the two men, and Cullen's anxiety seemed to know no upper bounds. He didn't realize he was rubbing his neck when he asked lamely, "How… are you?"

With a smile that was closer to grimace, Tharin answered timidly, "I… I don't know."

As the young man turned away, Cullen observed him closely. He had on more formal clothes than Cullen was used to seeing on him. No lock of hair, no strand of fiber was out of place. A red and white checkered button-down shirt tucked into light khaki trousers with chestnut-colored belt. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off the young man's muscular arms. Cullen imagined that this was how Tharin dressed for work every day.

The ensemble felt like an indication of their troubled relationship status and an indictment on Cullen. Like the young man wanted to point out that they were no longer close enough for casual attires.

But it should not have mattered. None of the indications and the mistakes should have mattered. Because Tharin came. Despite all the reservations he must have about Cullen, he came. Hope was not yet lost. He needed to be courageous as well as sensitive.

In a calm tone that belied the myriad of thoughts rapidly flashing through his head, Cullen explained, "There's a huge garden nearby called Sankei-en. I'm thinking we could take a walk in there while we talk. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

In forced cheerfulness, Cullen stated, "All right, follow me."

The two men remained silent the entire train and bus ride to Sankei-en. It took them nearly forty minutes, but Cullen needed some time to walk through everything he wanted to say and, in all likelihood, Tharin was mulling over some important things as well. So, neither attempted to initiate an actual conversation.

They disembarked the local bus at a large, empty intersection along with a number of Asian tourists and followed a sidewalk to Sankei-en. The asphalt path abutted a lake, and once they cut across the water through a pedestrian bridge, they arrived at the back gate of the garden.

Cullen felt like he ought to play the role of a tour guide. There were several bungalows and a three-story timber pagoda strewn across the garden that supposedly showed off the quintessence of Japanese architectural finesse. But the young man refused to utter a word or direct his gaze at anything other than the gravel road they were on. They had nowhere to be, but Tharin seemed determined to set the pace of their stroll to fast. And so, Cullen followed wordlessly.

The two walked along the main path through the middle of the forest until they passed a cluster of tall pine trees and came across another lake. There was a fork on the road, and they took the left that immediately led to a large open area adjacent to the shoreline.

Tharin finally came to a stop when he leaned forward against one of many wooden railings that populated the edge of the lake. Cullen followed suit and settled on the spot next to the young man.

Cullen looked around and found the area occupied but not overcrowded. Mothers with baby carriages stood near them, conversing in Japanese and laughing. High schoolers in neon-yellow mesh vests pushed the old in their wheelchairs. Young women sat on the stone border of the garden plot, taking selfies.

Ducks and other feathered creatures Cullen did not know the names of quacked and paddled around in the water. It was a shame that leaves had not turned yet. September was too early for autumn foliage. It was an idyllic Saturday morning, regardless of the gray clouds rolling in across the eastern horizon.

Despite the tranquil surroundings, Cullen could not help but be nervous. He had to apologize and soon. Nervousness dried his throat, and he fumbled with the messenger bag trying to retrieve one of the bottles of green tea.

When he managed, he also pulled out the other bottle, offering it to Tharin. The young man glanced at the bottle with a phlegmatic expression and accepted with a nod.

While Cullen cracked open the cap and took a large gulp, Tharin merely held on to his bottle, still looking pensive. Cullen wiped his mouth and reclosed the cap. He knew he would have to begin.

"I apologize… I know I disappointed you when I tried to hide you away. What I did was inexcusable."

Tharin's face finally broke. A kink appeared in his brow and his mouth pursed. He shook his head before beginning, "No, I'm not disappointed. I realize now that things aren't simple for you. I just… reacted the way I did because my perspective on this is heavily skewed."

With a pained smile, the young man asked, "I've got this whole spiel prepared. Please, will you… hear me out?"

Cullen delved into the cobalt blue irises to find fine crystals of hurt and wondered with a heavy heart whether he had inflicted such pain upon the young man. He assented, warily.

Tharin continued, "I told you that my mom passed, right?" Cullen swallowed and nodded. "My dad raised me as a single parent. He was… is a great parent, but he also made it known that he does not like having a gay son."

This was not at all what Cullen had expected.

The other man added, staring ahead with sad eyes, "I shouldn't lie and say I never missed my mom, because I did. But my dad made sure I wouldn't want for anything growing up. All the love and attention a child could want, he gave to me.

"I grew up in Seattle. I mean, it's probably the most liberal city in America, and my dad's the type of person who would march for feminism and gay rights.

"Which is why it surprised me so much when I came out after I graduated from high school and he did not take it well. At all."

Tharin looked older somehow, as though he had aged during the minute he had been speaking. With the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, the young man crouched. His face was now propped up by the crossed arms on the railing.

"Up until that point, I saw him cry once: at my mom's funeral. He cried again when I came out. And through the tears, he asked me if I was sure.

"And here's the kicker. He told me that… Well, the exact line was, 'If you accept being gay, then you'll never find someone who accepts you as you are.'

"I watched you trying to pretend everything was alright and then maybe find a way to make me leave before your liberty buddy showed up. My dad was in my mind, gloating that he was right. That I'll never be with someone who would be proud enough to tell the world that I'm his and that he's mine.

"If I'm being completely honest, it felt like you rejected me, like you told me I'm nothing to you."

Cullen felt blood rush to his head. He rolled his hands into tight fists and did his best to hold back the fury that rose like a conflagration. And like a conflagration, it left behind charred remains of his heart. He wanted to hold Tharin but dared not. Your fault, the darkness within him susurrated.

Tharin stood upright and looked at Cullen with eyes overflowing with ungovernable emotions. "But my reaction was unfair to you. I shouldn't have accused you of trying to pass as straight. That was simply unacceptable. I'm just… so sorry.

"I always knew you didn't mean to hurt me and that there's probably a lot of pressure on you to be a certain way. I wallowed until that Sunday when you texted me the second time. Then I researched the situation in the military.

"You were right. Things are better for people like us, but they could be a lot better. People still hide who they are, because there's still a lot of stigma attached to being gay, trans, or bi. And I shouldn't blame you for acting the way you did."

Cullen took a deep breath. In and out, he needed to calm down. The anger directed at himself was not going to help him here.

He knew he shouldn't, but he still reached out to touch the young man's right arm. It was warmer than he had expected.

Cullen sighed, "You don't need to apologize for the things said in the heat of the moment. No, you should absolutely be livid that I acted the way I did, Thar. You deserve much better than that. And I am so sorry my actions reminded you of that horrible memory."

Maintaining an even speaking voice was proving to be astonishingly difficult. It threatened to break as he turned to continue, "When my parents died in a car accident, it seemed right that Mia and I hid everything less than pleasant happening in our lives to protect our younger siblings, Branson and Rosalie."

Cullen was rubbing the back of his neck again. Feeling self-conscious, he dropped his right hand. "So, now my first instinct when faced with an obstacle is to ignore it, to hide it, pretend it doesn't exist." He realized how he came off and rapidly waved his hands. "Not to say that our relationship is an obstacle or something unpleasant." He scowled as his mood kept deflating. "God, I'm doing a terrible job at apologizing, aren't I?"

Tharin did not react at all as he fixed his gaze upon the lake. Cullen had to persevere through the spiking anxiety that threatened to sever the connection between his brain and the rest of his body.

"Whatever my family is like, whatever my relationship with the Navy is like, neither's an excuse for me to treat you that way. I-I'm… so sorry. It's a lame apology, I know, but I don't know how else to fix what I've done to you. And I know I should work on myself. I've… obviously got some issues with being bi." Cullen exhaled heavily and hated how even his breath had a hitch in it. He was so nervous.

"I wish things were simple for me. Simple enough that I can be open about having you in my life because you've… You've made a huge difference in it. Whenever we chat, whenever we meet in person, I can't even describe how excited I become. I feel like I found someone I can trust completely, a best friend who I can date.

"Part of me feels like I should do the gentlemanly thing and walk away before I hurt you even more. I mean, I've never dated another man, and that may make things even more difficult on top of everything else. But there's a louder voice in me saying I shouldn't let you go. I think… I believe I deserve to be with you."

He reached out with his right hand and enveloped Tharin's right hand. The residual coldness of the matcha bottle transferred, and he shivered in spite of himself.

"Thar, I know my past, my career, and my inexperience won't make things easy for us. But… I can't let you go without at least trying first. I feel guilty for thinking this way, but I want to be selfish.

"I can't fix your relationship with your dad. But I'd really like to prove your dad wrong. As cheesy as this sounds, I'll always, always try with you. No matter what, I'll stand beside you."

Tharin's striking eyes could not contain all the raw emotions and began to well up. They sparkled like two sapphires. The young man looked away for a second, wiping away the moisture with his left index finger.

Cullen's throat rang with ardor. He whispered desperately, "Thar, would you… could you forgive me? Please?"

With a catch in his tone, Tharin laughed and spoke, "Of course, Cul. Of course, I forgive you."

It was amazing how things could turn in a split second. One moment, Cullen was sure that everything was broken beyond repair; the next moment, Tharin was back. Cullen had someone who he cared for deeply. His heart was still beating hard but for a different reason.

Cullen turned to face Tharin directly and twined their fingers together. And they stood there for a while, both appreciating the amiable warmth that the mutual knowledge of their feelings provided.

With a soft voice, Cullen began to explain, "So, I… uh… planned out the rest of the day. We could look around the garden for another hour or so, and then go to this restaurant in Chinatown that I scoped out for lunch. After that, I'm going to this author's book signing. You can go home early if you'd rather skip that."

With his eyes still looking distinctly reddish, Tharin grinned. "Nonsense. I go where you go. Who's the author?"

"Varric Tethras? I don't know if you've heard of him…"

"Ah, that guy? Yeah, I've heard of him. I'm surprised you like him."

"How come? I think he's a great writer."

The entire time the two men conversed, they were heedless of the world around them. Neither let go of the other's hand.

END NOTE

A PSA: Emotions and tears are not enemies of masculinity. Crying once in a while is good for you! Don't be like Cullen!

Next up, a make-up date planned and executed entirely by Cullen! Also: a cameo appearance by the one and only, Varric Tethras!