Uncensored version found at: *AO3*/works/31047788/chapters/81814666

TRIGGER WARNING! Some references to substance abuse and interpersonal violence.

Harajuku Station (原宿駅) and Ham & Egg (ハム・アンド・エッグ・プリクラ)

After lunch, they headed straight back Shinjuku Station. The area west of the station was all office buildings, and Kabuki-chō in the east was a red-light district that came alive only at night. So, there was not much else to do.

Tharin remarked, "It's too bad you have to start heading back before midnight. We could've explored all the gay bars nearby."

Cullen, having never fully immersed himself in queer culture, was taken by surprise. He cleared his throat and croaked, "Oh? Uh… I haven't been to one in a while…" He hadn't been to one since his college days, and even in college he only went to appease his demanding girl friends. He was never the clubbing type.

The young man simply grinned. "Don't worry. I don't plan on throwing you to the wolves. God knows, you'll be way too popular and find yourself a better boyfriend or something…

"Plus, gay bars in Japan don't work like American ones. They aren't super loud nightclub-like places. They are more… dive bars for regulars. We could check out the ones friendlier and more open, but…" The young man exhaled and turned, "If you ever get to spend the night outside the base, you're spending it with me at my place. By ourselves, all night."

Cullen could feel the corners of his mouth inching upward. He rather liked the idea. "That's a promise."

At the station, they spent about five minutes trying to find the Yamanote Line platform. From there, they backtracked one stop and arrived in Harajuku at 1414.

The old Harajuku Station building had timber frames, red bricks, and a copper dome that reminded Cullen of illustrations in German fairytale books. Or maybe Shakespeare's Cottage. He was by no means conversant in western architectural styles. But people rushing out of it were as contemporary and post-modern as they come in the way they dressed.

Tharin discreetly pointed to a woman who passed by them on the crosswalk in front of the station. She had on a layered look, which included a pair of black sheer tights, a black dress, a tan coat, and a blue-and-orange plaid overcoat. With black platform boots that seemed impossibly high to Cullen, her height was close to Tharin's. Her short, permed hair had been dyed neon pink and styled into a controlled jumble. An asymmetrical mass with an elaborate headpiece featuring flowers, tassels, and a mini folding fan.

Her button nose was upturned, and her lips were full and crimson. Her lashes were curled up high. There was an aura of unapproachability around her. Perhaps it was haughtiness, perhaps it was self-assurance. Cullen could not be sure.

The young man whispered, "She's definitely going to Takeshita Street."

Lowering his voice in concert, Cullen inquired, "Is that where we are heading?"

The wave of fashionable people turned left immediately after crossing the road. As they tracked them, Tharin said in normal volume, "Yeah, it's gonna be interesting to people-watch there."

Even with the avant-garde woman in front of him, Cullen was not exactly sure how interesting it would be to just watch passersby. But Tharin had yet to steer them wrong, and he followed without a complaint.

After five minutes of walking, they found themselves at the entrance of Takeshita Street. A steel archway with colored plastic spheres arranged into the shape of a unicorn with a red bow and clouds with rainbows welcomed them.

As Cullen observed the archway with mild interest, he heard Tharin emit a noise of surprise. The young man grabbed Cullen's hand and pulled him toward a shop just past the archway on their left side. Its signboard read Ham & Egg in addition to four katakana letters and a heart symbol, but it did not seem like a restaurant of any kind.

At the shop's entrance, Tharin let go of the hand and dithered. Cullen observed the other man blush. Shyly, the young man explained, "It's a shop dedicated to photo booths. I've always wanted to try them out. Just felt weird about going in there alone."

Cullen felt his lips stretch into a wide smile. "Is that all? Thar, if that's your wish, I'm inclined to oblige."

The young man's forget-me-not eyes gleamed. How could Cullen resist? "Come on, let's go," prompted Cullen in an uncharacteristically enthused tone that startled even himself.

The shop was in the basement, but it was not dingy or shady at all. Everything was pink and red, and it smelled lightly of rose. No doubt to appeal to the younger clientele of Harajuku. Two Japanese women passed by, laughing hysterically looking at their photos. There were some scribbles of drawings and letters on them.

Tharin hummed as he decided which photo booth they should enter. In the end, he chose a subdued one without all the atrociously busy exterior decorations. In fact, it looked quite old, a relic from the twentieth century, its sides adorned with mock-wood plastic laminate panels.

Once they entered and drew the curtain, they saw that all the directions were written out in English. It must have been imported from overseas, from the time when they did not have the technological capacity to allow users to edit photos. It did not even have a touch screen. In other words, it was a living dinosaur.

The booth was small. It could hardly accommodate two well-built men who were appropriately sized for the twenty-first century. Cullen sat down on the seat and asked tentatively, "Do you want to… sit on my lap?"

Tharin turned briefly and nodded. There was a faint grin on his visage.

Cullen's heart beat wildly, and he enjoined it to calm down. Not that it worked, but he had to try, nonetheless.

After sitting down at an angle with his seat on Cullen's lap, Tharin inserted four hundred-yen coins into the booth's slot.

The green light in the middle of the machine came on, and the young man turned to Cullen. "You don't…" Their lips were exactly an inch apart. Tharin cleared his throat and began again, "You don't mind that the photo's gonna be in black and white, right?"

Feeling his cheeks warm, Cullen wet his lips and said, "I don't mind at all. Black and white's good."

Tharin turned back toward the camera, and Cullen could not help but be disappointed a tad. The young man asked, "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay, here we go," said Tharin as he pushed the button to activate the camera. Cullen forced his lips to curl upward.

First flash.

Tharin turned and whispered, "Cul, I think I…" There was a moment of hesitation, the reason for which remained a mystery to Cullen. The air around the two men seemed to still completely. And instead of finishing the sentence, the young man fused his lips with Cullen's.

Second flash.

Cullen did not care that the camera was still taking pictures. He wrapped his arms around the young man and kissed back as ferociously as he could manage. He smelled the lingering aroma of sesame oil from earlier and the young man's musk. He felt his cock stiffen.

Third flash.

Tharin broke from the kiss and respired as though he had just emerged from underwater. He smiled that brilliant smile that could command Cullen to do anything to his liking.

Fourth flash.

"Cul…"

"Thar?"

Once again, the young man refused to speak up as the photo machine whirred. Tharin buried his face in the little nook where Cullen's neck and his clavicle met and susurrated, "Do you need a minute?"

It took Cullen a moment to realize that he was fully hard. Well, there went his credibility as a thirty-year-old adult with a semblance of self-control.

With an exasperated chuckle, Cullen responded, "I think I'd better."

Takeshita Street (竹下通り) and Marie Crêperie (マリー・クレープリー)

Cullen told Tharin to keep the entire strip of photos, but Tharin insisted on splitting them evenly. And so, they did.

After he examined the photos, Cullen elected to keep the top two, the one with crooked smiles and the surprise kiss. The last two – the continued kiss and the two of them staring at each other with affection clearly imbued in their expressions – were better, and he wanted Tharin to have them.

They exited the photo shop and proceeded through Takeshita Street into the interior of Harajuku, and after two blocks, they arrived at Marie Crêperie.

Tharin gleefully gestured at all the Japanese locals waiting in a queue for crepes. "See, crepes are as Japanese as they come."

Except the shop's color palette was that of the French tricolor. Blue, white, and red all around the walls of the tiny corner shop. But Cullen was content to let the young man win the argument that was never an argument. He merely nodded and said, "You were right."

Of course, Tharin was not about to let them move on without trying the crepes. They got in the line and perused the huge blue display case with all sorts of different crepes and their fillings modeled in plastic. The dizzying array of choices made the decision difficult for Cullen.

After waiting for fifteen minutes or so, they managed to place orders and get their own crepes. Tharin went for a simple crepe with strawberry preserves and whipped cream, coming in at 380 yens; Cullen went for a 430-yen crepe with canned peach slices, custard, and whipped cream, which turned out to be a monstrosity of a confection.

The crepes came wrapped in paper cones, and since there was no bench to sit on anywhere, the two men were forced to stand and eat in a corner on the other side of the pedestrian street with a concrete stairway to another building.

As he leisurely took bites of the overly sweet, impossibly frilly snack, Cullen realized that it was in fact fairly fascinating to watch people strut in their unorthodox couture. Beyond looking up how to dress himself for important occasions, Cullen wasn't into fashion by any means, but it still seemed somehow imperative to take notes of small details.

One of the people waiting for crepes was a girl who could not have been older than twenty. She was dressed in clothes that combined formed a curiously infantile look. The ensemble made Cullen think of Red Riding Hood.

She had on a blood-red ruffled dress with paintings of golden crosses and heart-shaped orbs. It had lace trimmings. On top, she had on a crimson cape coat with more lace trimmings and a gigantic bow. She finished her look with knee-high maroon socks, a pair of platform boots, and a black Panama hat. Like most of the people in the queue, she was intently looking at her phone screen.

Cullen turned his gaze rightward and found a man walking in an androgynous combination of oversized black shirt that stretched to his knees and dim-gray wide-leg pants that swayed as his feet moved forward. The shirt had a large black-and-white print of a crudely drawn tiger.

The man's head and brow were completely shaved, and he'd drawn faint outlines of the eyebrows. On his helixes were metallic piercings and from his earlobes dangled floral earrings.

From their far left emerged a woman, the center of whose hair had been dyed mint green. She looked like a grunge rocker from the heydays of Nirvana. On her were a black T-shirt with a large, contorted face of a glam rocker drawn on it, a pair of ripped jeans with chains that had been splashed with green and yellow oil paint, and a pair of white platform sneakers. She accessorized with a brown fanny pack, chunky sunglasses, and silver jewelry.

There were tens like them in every corner of Takeshita Street. Every single one of them had a distinct individual style that could not be emulated, and every single one of them strived to stand out like a colorful tropical bird. But Cullen's untrained eyes were blending all of them together into a blur of cacophonous hues. Still, it was clear that their youthful quintessence was in exhibit, nurtured and flaunted for all to witness.

In contrast, Cullen was in his usual short-sleeved salmon-pink linen shirt and denims. There was nothing special about the way he dressed. The look was entirely mass-produced and therefore prosaic. Along with the young man, who looked like he just left work, Cullen blended into the background with other numerous foreign tourists in frumpy clothes like cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts.

As Cullen watched teenagers and people in their early twenties file past them in outrageous clothes, he realized that his mood was sagging. Their youth seemed to sparkle like sunrays hitting the dew drops of the purest water. And Cullen felt not a little envious of that brilliance, as it reminded him of the age gap between the young man and him that had been plaguing his mind on and off.

And it was that kind of niggling feeling that would not go away until he pushed it out of his brain and discussed with Tharin. So, despite the rising anxiety, he dared to speak his mind.

"Thar?"

Tharin was just finishing up his crepe. After licking his fingers clean, crumpling the wrapping paper, and casually tossing it into the trashcan nearby, the young man turned toward Cullen and queried, "Yeah? What's up? You getting bored?"

"No, it isn't that," hesitated Cullen, "I want to talk to you about… our age difference."

A fine frown line appeared in the middle of Tharin's brow. "What brought this on?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while now." Guiding his gaze to the crepe that was losing its shape in his warm hand, Cullen added, "Does it bother you?" His stomach felt like it was turning upside down.

After a period of what was undoubtedly awkward silence, Tharin began to speak with forced jollity, "Well, you know the dating age rule. Divide your age by half and add–"

Cullen interrupted, "Add seven. Yes, I know. By that logic, you and I are okay, just barely. But I'm serious. You probably haven't dated many people and you may want different things down the road. I don't want to become an obstacle for you."

In his peripheral vision, he saw Tharin tightly fold his arms. Perhaps he'd angered the young man.

"Cul, I… I really…" Tharin blinked ever so slowly. He left a pregnant pause before continuing, "I really like you. And you like me too. Couldn't we just focus on that for now?"

Cullen's anxiety, constituting not an insignificant part of his sometimes too fragile ego, goaded him to accept Tharin's appeal, to relegate the difficult dilemma of age gap to the indeterminate future. He could leave it for the future Cullen to introspect and create a solution. Or, even better, the future Cullen may forget about it.

But he felt obligated to try to press at least once more. "Are you sure? We should talk about it if it bothers you."

Tharin was resolute. With a determined mien that bordered on genuine anger contrasting Cullen's concerned look, the young man proclaimed, "No, it doesn't bother me at all. You're seven years older than me. So what? I feel like I can be myself around you, and you haven't said anything to suggest otherwise either. I really think this is something we don't need to discuss."

Cullen decided to accept the premise of Tharin's declaration. The age gap needn't become a source of conflict between the two men.

But was it supposed to be this easy to resolve an issue that seemed so insurmountable just minutes ago? The niggling feeling still loitered inside Cullen. And like the gluey residue of an old sticker torn from a metal surface, it would not let go.

Cutting through Cullen's complicated thoughts, Tharin reached out with his left hand and squeezed the other man's shoulder. "You can always talk to me, Cul. Whatever it is that's bothering you, I want to know. Promise me you won't just keep quiet and suffer on your own."

Cullen beamed, not entirely dissimulating the wariness. "I promise."

He took a quick peek at Tharin. He was almost sure he saw Tharin's face darken as the young man exhaled heavily.

Ueno Park (上野恩賜公園) and Hanazono Inari Shrine (花園稲荷神社)

There were thirteen stops between Harajuku and Ueno, stretched across halfway around the Yamanote loop.

It was interesting to watch people get on and off. Each station, each neighborhood seemed to attract different demographics. Half the people who got on the train at Shin-Ōkubo were foreign, though their demeanors seemed to be too composed to be tourists. At Takadanobaba, a crowd of smartly dressed college-aged Japanese got on. The type of young people he saw in the streets of Harajuku. And at Sugamo, it was mostly older Japanese with graying hair who boarded.

It was quarter to 1600 when they arrived at Ueno. Families with children got off with Cullen and Tharin. No wonder, the district was famous for an expansive park that contained within it a zoo, a group of top-notch museums, and a number of Shinto shrines.

When they came out of the western gate of the station, they crossed a one-way road and began to follow an asphalt pathway toward the center of Ueno Park.

It was a beautiful autumn day, and there were many people walking beside them. They all seemed happy. Whatever troubles they may have in their individual lives, they did not bring them to Ueno.

At the point where their pathway converged with the pedestrian thoroughfare cutting across the park, Tharin held up his hand to stop Cullen. "Shoot, I closed Google Maps by accident. Hold on while I pull it up again."

Cullen obliged and watched people walk past them as the young man dealt with his phone. Suddenly, he heard a low yowling. A cat emerged from the bushes on their right and casually sauntered up to Cullen.

The cat was clearly a stray, but it was handsome and inexplicably well-groomed. The first thing Cullen noticed were its eyes. Pale yellow sclerae and black irises seemed to give off the aura of feistiness. It was a domestic short-haired with splotches of black on the top and a clean canvas of white on the bottom half of its body. Half of its face was jet black while the other half was shimmering white.

The colors were clearly demarcated but formed amorphous, almost chaotic patterns on the stray. They reminded Cullen of ink wash paintings. The ones that expressed much of the world through the empty spaces in between objects painted only with different gradations of black ink. As the cat rubbed its body against Cullen's legs, he stooped down and stroked it with his right hand. The cat began to purr.

Putting his phone down, Tharin recoiled, "Are you seriously petting a stray?"

Cullen looked up with a relaxed smile. "Are you seriously judging me for petting a cat?"

The young man eyed at him with reproach. "You might get something from it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Lyme disease? That's a thing, right? Yeah, Lyme disease."

Cullen grew up in the country. A threat of Lyme disease was not likely to put him off. "As long as I don't get scratched, I'm fine. And look, it's friendly."

With disapproval evident in his countenance, Tharin intoned, "Alright, Dr. Doolittle. Don't come running to me when you catch whatever thing the cat has."

Cullen ignored the warning and spoke to the cat, "You're just a hungry little buddy, aren't you? I'm sorry, I don't have anything to give you."

The cat meowed as it continuously rubbed itself against Cullen and appealed for food. But soon enough, the cat seemed to understand the fact that he was bereft of any victual specially designated for it. It turned around and disappeared once again into the bushes without looking back.

With his gaze directed at his phone screen, Tharin ordered, "There's a public restroom nearby. Go wash your hands."

Cullen teased the young man by saluting stridently, "Aye, sir. Understood, sir."

"You mock me, but you should be thanking me for being such a conscientious boyfriend."

Of course, Tharin was right. He was right about a lot of things, and this was just another example. But Cullen could not let a cat pass by without petting it at least once. What's more, it came up to Cullen of its own accord. There was absolutely zero chance, no way in hell he would have refused to stroke it.

After backtracking the way they came from, the two men found the public restroom, and Cullen went in to scrub his hands thoroughly.

When Cullen exited the restroom wiping his hands on a piece of paper towel, Tharin had on an inquisitive expression. Cullen tilted his head in curiosity.

"I would've never pegged you as a cat person, that's all. Definitely a dog person, not a cat person," said the young man.

Cullen grinned as he expounded, "I'm partial to all furry creatures. My family had a dog and a cat when I was growing up."

Tharin chortled, "Hm, the more you know. I'll have to make sure to remember that."

The two men strolled onward onto the pedestrian thoroughfare. As expected, it was crowded.

Tharin lamented that they came to the park in autumn. In spring, the tall trees on either side of the park would don cherry blossoms, and everything would be dyed light pink. To this, Cullen tenderly patted the young man's back and promised, "We'll come back next spring." Tharin flashed his rare shy smile and nodded in agreement.

They arrived at their destination less than a minute after cutting perpendicularly across the thoroughfare. In front of them stood the gray stone torii archway of the Hanazono Inari Shrine.

Tharin inquired, "Have you ever seen that picture of a thousand red toriis lined up together and people walking underneath them?"

Cullen considered and hummed, "I think I know what you're talking about."

"It's in Kyoto. The Fushimi Inari Shrine. I got to go see it in person, but I assume you haven't yet. That's why I brought you here. It's much, much smaller than the one in Kyoto, but this place has toriis lined up too."

Cullen lifted his gaze and looked beyond the stone archway. There were indeed toriis painted vermillion lined up in perfect order, casting shadows on the trail to the center of the shrine.

Evidently this was no secret spot. There were a couple speaking in what sounded like an Australian accent taking pictures in front of the first crimson archway. Cullen found it abhorrent to attempt to take photos next to the couple who would no doubt watch them do it. Having decided to forego the pictures, he started toward the inside with Tharin in tow.

Objectively speaking, the torii trail at the Hanazono wasn't as impressive as the one at the Fushimi. If Cullen remembered the scene correctly, the archways were tightly packed together into a veritable tunnel at the Fushimi, enough so that the shrine had to put electrical lighting on some of them. Here, the toriis numbered at most twenty and were spaced apart. The sunlight freely shone down upon the pilgrims and the tourists.

But it was not disappointing. On the contrary, Cullen's heart sped up as he thought of Tharin planning out the day. The young man was attentive and caring enough to consider what Cullen had and had not seen during his time in Japan.

Cullen rarely dealt in hyperbole, but he felt like the luckiest guy alive.

"According to the Internet, the shrine specializes in matchmaking and marriage," stated Tharin with a deadpan tone from behind, which snapped Cullen out of his own reverie.

Cullen snickered. "Is that another reason for us to visit this shrine? To ask for good luck in our relationship?"

The young man answered with an equal amount of glee in his voice, "I thought we could use some, given the track record."

To this jab at Cullen, he waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you."

After walking down two sets of stone steps, they arrived at the main hall of the shrine. Two small fox statues guarded it. Someone had made bibs out of carmine silk and put them on the foxes, which was quite adorable.

Cullen observed a shabbily dressed, possibly octogenarian woman praying at the main hall. With a trembling hand, she gently dropped a coin into the red donation box and pulled on the thick braid of crimson cords attached to a gilded bell. She then bowed twice, clapped twice, whispered her prayer, and bowed once again before turning around to leave.

Every action, every movement seemed so mundane. As a religious ritual, it lacked that certain gravitas. No posturing, no grand gestures. But it was precisely its mundanity that made it that much more compelling. Just ordinary people quietly praying for ordinary things that might improve their lives an ordinate amount.

Tharin pointed to an orange-colored box attached to the left side of the main building and exclaimed, "They have fortunes here. Do you wanna get more?"

Cullen pursed his lips and shook his head adamantly. "…I think I'll pass this time." He remembered everything going sideways after he picked a bad fortune at Sensō-ji. Of course, it was nobody's fault but his own. Still, he did not feel like tempting fate.

On the right side of the shrine hall were clusters of wooden trapezoid slabs hanging from a huge display post. They looked like overripe fruits hanging from a tree and intrigued Cullen. So, he approached for a closer look.

All of the pieces had something written or drawn on them. Predictably, most of them were written in Japanese, but there were a few odd ones written out in some other language. He found an English one, which read, Please help mum beat breast cancer.

Cullen immediately realized that these little plaques contained wishes of people visiting the shrine and felt guilty about peeping into one of them. It was like he had peeked into someone's mind without permission.

"Ah, those things are emas. We can make an ema too," said the young man as he approached and wrapped his arm around Cullen.

"I feel like a peeping tom," added Cullen guiltily.

Tharin merely chuckled. "Don't be. It's not some high crime. Some people actually visit the shrines to read the emas. Plus, most of the wishes are generic. Let me pass the exam, let me get a good job, let me get healthier this year, et cetera…"

"I still feel bad."

The young man looked around, and upon finding the shrine deserted except for them, pecked a quick kiss on Cullen's right cheek. "You're sweet. But seriously, don't worry. We can add ours for others to read. Wait here, I'll buy one and come back."

Cullen watched as the young man rambled away. As he stood there, he found the whole affair bizarre. He was always told to keep his wishes and prayers close to his heart. Here, it was open for all to read whenever they pleased.

But it made sense in a way that Cullen had not anticipated. All the items the young man listed off were things that could be actualized by the persons making the wishes. It was like announcing one's intention to the world, akin to how Americans liked to talk about New Year's resolutions to their families and friends.

Tharin came back with a wooden plaque and a sharpie. The back of the plaque had whimsical drawing of the two foxes as well as a blue torii and trees on the top.

After tut-tutting, the young man declared, "It was a bit more than I expected. Five-hundred yen seems a bit excessive for a piece of wood, but hey, what do I know about gods."

"That sounds almost blasphemous."

The young man countered smoothly, "Well, I think I read somewhere that the fox god is notoriously personable. They'd find me delightfully unassuming in my typical American way."

Cullen bumped his shoulder against the young man and replied, "I'll just have to make sure you don't get hit by lightning on the way out."

"Yeah, alright. That would be pretty hilarious though. Here, I'll take this half and you take the other half. Why don't you start?"

Tharin handed Cullen the sharpie, and he cogitated. He wanted to write something meaningful, but he also did not want it to be too obvious. It still felt right that wishes must be kept secret from others.

After ruminating for a while, Cullen began to write, Please let this persevere through all.

The young man raised one of his onyx eyebrows. "Vague and kind of ominous, but that's fine. I'll write in Japanese."

Tharin scribbled expertly in a language Cullen barely understood. As usual, Chinese characters were far beyond his comprehension. Every time Tharin revealed his Japanese skill, Cullen could not help but be impressed.

"What are you writing?" asked Cullen with genuine interest.

And Tharin obliged by giving him a sidelong glance and being clandestine. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Cullen beamed . "Showoff."

The young man's muscular arms and rough hands nimbly tied the string on one of the hooks on the display post and hung the plaque among hundreds of others. Cullen did not bring his hands together but still prayed fervidly that his wish would come true.

The Tokyo Tower (東京タワー)

Cullen remembered Josie's admonition as they got off the Yamanote Line at Hamamatsuchō Station and ambled over to Ōedo Line at Daimon Station. The Tokyo Tower was indeed some way off from the loop. After disembarking at Akabanebashi Station, they still had to walk uphill for about ten minutes before they reached the bottom of the tower.

The sun had just set, and the tower was illuminated in light crimson and white, mixing to form a golden hue. The view of the steel behemoth was simply breathtaking.

The line to the ticket counter was surprisingly short. And they need not wait for the elevator to the observatory for long. When they finally boarded the elevator, it slid up without a sound. Cullen felt his ears pop. And when the automatic doors opened, a world of radiance stretched out before them.

Cullen had never been to the top of a skyscraper before. Boston was the closest large city from his hometown and his college, but he never had the wherewithal to take a trip whenever he desired. And so, this was his first time viewing a megalopolis from the height.

The sight was much better than what he was used to seeing in pictures. It was simply incomparable.

Entranced by the veritable fête of lights, he approached the windows, leaned forward on the railing, and stared out. A sign hanging on one of the window frames said he was looking toward the direction of Asakusa and Ueno. Tharin approached and murmured, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

There wasn't much Cullen could do except to nod. He grabbed his phone and took a picture of the city. It was a shame that the phone camera did not do the beauty of the nightscape justice. Even so, he opened his messages app and sent the photo to Rosalie with a short message: Wish you were here with me. As inane as the message was, it was all he could think up at the moment.

Tharin's face broke out in a wily grin. "Who're you texting? Got another boyfriend?"

Cullen turned away from the windows and gave a diffident smile. "No, it's just Rosalie. My younger sister."

The elevators kept disgorging more people, and the lobby area of the observatory began to feel congested. Cullen and Tharin began to move away, turning right onto another side of the tower. Cullen kept his eyes firmly on the constellation of lights outside. The city followed them everywhere, ensconcing them comfortably within.

As they settled on another window far away from the crowd of clamorous tourists, Cullen watched Tharin relax. He folded his arms and leaned his back against the railing.

"How are your siblings? Mia, Rosalie, and…?"

"Branson. Rosalie seems to be doing well, and Mia is… doing okay now, I think. As for Branson, I've no idea. I really need to talk to him."

Cullen paused before adding, "I told Rosalie about you. I hope that's okay."

Tharin whipped his head toward Cullen, but there was only tenderness on his visage. "Of course! Cullen, coming out is your journey, not mine. You can go as fast or as slow as you want." Cullen felt his face break out in a smirk, and the young man's scrunched as well. "Ugh, yeah. I used the word journey. I feel dirty."

The young man unfolded his arms and reached out with his right hand. Their fingertips touched. "I'm just thrilled you told your sister about us."

A mass rose from the back of Cullen's throat, and he looked down, trying to suppress it to no avail. It hung onto him, cumbersome and unmoving. He had to tell Tharin the truth about his past. "The thing is, it's hard for me to tell Mia about my life here with you. I almost feel guilty about letting her know."

"How come?"

"Because I'm doing so well, and well… Mia isn't. She told me she just left rehab. It's her second time."

With a soft tone, Cullen began to recollect, "I think I mentioned, Mia kept the family together after my parents died. I was fourteen. She was only eighteen, and with just a high school degree, she could only do so much. Odd jobs here and there.

"She even worked at a farm where she broke her back. She was prescribed oxy and fell into habit.

"For years, she managed to keep the addiction hidden from all of us. Or… maybe I didn't want to see it. I should've caught on to some of the signs."

Cullen recalled the warning signs. Pill bottles that were left out by accident. The glazed looks as she reclined on the living room sofa, the gradual weight loss, irritable moods… They were clear as a day in retrospect, and Cullen should have been cognizant of them. But he didn't want to see them. Because he was cowardly. Because he knew he would fall apart if he were to lose Mia too.

Perhaps Mia was looking for a way out. Perhaps she became clumsy so she could get help. But Cullen doggedly refused to understand her. The darkness within him returned to accuse him of being a worthless ingrate.

Mia knew she was in trouble yet pushed Cullen forward to his own future. He could never thank her enough for that.

"Mia was the one who encouraged me to go to college before enlisting. All I wanted to do was to follow my parents' footsteps and become a sailor, serve the greater good, I suppose. But my sister made the case that I needed to be educated first. In hindsight, it would've been better for me to enlist and use the G.I. Bill to enroll in a college. Or better yet, I should've stayed in my hometown, in New Hampshire, and help out with the family.

"I didn't find out about Mia's addiction until I was active duty. One day, Rosie called me crying. She told me that Mia nearly OD'd. I took a leave and went back to take care of her. That's when she went through withdrawal and became violent. You know… this scar."

Cullen knew his composure was fracturing as he touched the uneven groove by his lips. The pain etched forever within him in a mark that would never erase, the pallid, horrified face of Mia as she dropped the bloodied kitchen knife on the floor, Rosalie's scream, a call to 911. The rehab.

"I've always felt bad about leaving Mia in charge of everything. Part of me felt like I was running away from all the problems in my life. And then her addiction surfaced, and my guilty conscience just grew. It's sort of like…" Cullen soughed and bit his bottom lip.

"Whenever I think of Mia, I get the feeling of…" Cullen wondered if he had scared off Tharin yet. "Like I have a boulder wrapped around my neck, you know? Just… heavy."

Cullen let the silence pollute the atmosphere hanging between them. When he finally turned, he found Tharin staring faraway outside the windows. He apologized, "Sorry for dumping all of this on you."

Tharin's eyes seemed to clear up. Fortunately, his expression was unambiguous. The young man was sympathetic as he grasped Cullen's hand. "No, I'm glad you told me. I want you to know, you can talk to me about anything. I won't be able to help with everything, but I…"

"I know. Thanks." But the nerves would not calm until he heard a direct answer. Cullen knew it was practically pathological, but he couldn't help. "How… do you feel now? About everything? About… me?"

Tharin pursed his lips and considered. When he began, he spoke slowly, "There's a Japanese word, setsunai."

Cullen pushed on, eager to get a straight answer. "What's it mean?"

And the young man finally gave it to him. "There really isn't a direct translation. I guess closest would be sadness or painfulness, but… It's more than that." Tharin shifted toward Cullen even more, his lips now tantalizingly close to Cullen's. "It's how I feel when I look at you, Cul. Setsunai. I don't know how else to describe it. Like I miss you even when you're here. Like my heart's just going to break into million pieces…"

Tharin shook his head as though he was exasperated by himself. "I know, I know. Corny as fuck."

But it was the best answer Cullen could have received. And the young man's candor gratified him. "No, I think I understand. I feel the same way about you…" Cullen stuttered, "I really. Um. I…"

Tharin affectionately squeezed his hand. "Yeah…"

When the two men returned to Tharin's neighborhood, they went to Kumi and supped there. They both had nikujaga – beef, potatoes, and other assorted vegetables braised in sweet soy sauce. Another first for Cullen, and he found it delicious.

Josie was not there to provide commentary, which was just as well, even though Cullen enjoyed the woman's company. He was pleasantly tired after the breakneck tour of Tokyo, and Tharin also seemed to be spent.

Back at Tharin's apartment, they indulged in each other's company. It was all done in a languid pace, reflecting their tiredness from the long day of exploration.

Afterwards, they cuddled, and Cullen fell asleep for no less than five minutes. He was woken up by a tender kiss from Tharin. The corners of his lips stretched automatically as the young man's absurdly handsome face came into the view.

Tharin exhorted softly, "You shouldn't nap now. You won't be able to fall asleep later."

Still half-asleep, Cullen casually mumbled, "Thanks, hon."

Faced with this unanticipated term of endearment, Tharin beamed and gave a little peck. "Come on, get up," said the young man as he stood up from the bed and put on the pair of red boxer briefs left abandoned on the floor.

Instead of answering, Cullen grunted and pulled Tharin back to bed. They wrestled, the two matched equally in strength.

But Cullen was still groggy from the mini nap, and Tharin prevailed soon. With Tharin on top, the two shared a deep osculation until the young man sputtered, "Okay, no more sex. At least, not until I show you the thing I got for you."

"Again? I thought you got your fill of impulse shopping for the whole year?"

"This one wasn't an impulse buy. I've thought it through." Tharin grabbed a thin book from the desktop bookshelf and handed it to Cullen. The title read, Japanese Conversations for Beginners.

When Cullen looked up intriguingly, he found Tharin glowing. "It's a primer. Unless you're planning on finding another Japanese buddy, I figured you could use something like this. You can practice in the barracks, and I'll quiz you."

It was an earnest gift from an earnest man. When Tharin sat back down on the bed, Cullen pulled the man closer and embraced him tightly. He whispered in Tharin's left ear, "You're really the best, you know that?"

Tharin chortled as he disagreed, "Nah, I'm really not. I just felt bad about not encouraging you to practice Japanese at all. I figured I could be a better Japanese buddy."

"I promise, I'll practice hard."

The young man sniffed. His brows were arched in an especially frolicsome and roguish way. "You'd better. If your Japanese doesn't improve, I'm rationing sex."

Cullen scratched his bestubbled right cheek. "Hmm, that's a threat if I ever heard one."

"What if it is?" huffed the young man.

"I'm going to change your mind about it."

Cullen tackled Tharin and the two tumbled on the queen-sized bed. The young man rolled around until he was about to fall to the hardwood floor, and Cullen caught him just in time. The two laughed exuberantly before they began to kiss again.

Tharin conceded, and they pleasured each other one more time.

It was past 2130. Time for Cullen to head out.

Cullen was putting on his pair of Converse sneakers when Tharin handed him a plastic bag with the primer and the box of shortbread biscuits. "Don't forget to take your cookies. Oh, and the teacup, too." After Cullen took ahold of the bag, the young man padded to the kitchen counter.

Tharin was fastidious. He pulled out a few squares of paper towel and wrapped the teacup with it. He then approached Cullen and placed it in the bag gingerly.

Despite Cullen's telling him not to bother, Tharin came downstairs to see him off as usual.

Before Cullen departed and embarked upon the night, they kissed one last time. Tharin bashfully stated, "Thank you… for telling me about your family. I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me things like that."

The cobalt eyes were emotional, and Cullen could not help but wrap his arms around one last time.

Tharin began to susurrate from Cullen's bosom, "Cul, I… I think I…" The protracted stillness, in which Cullen gazed upon his boyfriend with a questioning look, was followed by a defeated sigh from Tharin. "Never mind. Text me when you get in?"

Something in Cullen stopped him from asking what Tharin wanted to say. He told himself he would find out later.

Yes, later was good enough.

END NOTE

I just posted a new one-shot titled The Commander and His Templar (*FFN*/s/13927484/1/The-Commander-and-His-Templar) to celebrate the completion of roscwwap's fic, Unlikely Inquisitor (*AO3*/works/27579487)! Check it out!

I wonder what Tharin wanted to say... Hmmm...

Next up, Tharin visits Cullen. That's it. Nothing else happens.