SPOILER WARNING! Some details of Netflix's The Queen's Gambit discussed.

Two days had passed since Cullen disclosed to Tharin further details of his family history while enfolded by a panoramic wall of luminous nightlights.

Their conversation naturally made Cullen think about his relationship with Mia. It had always been good, rare for siblings in a large family. But it was a lopsided arrangement: growing up, Cullen depended heavily on his sister for emotional support. And when she needed him, he ran away like a coward.

Cullen only had a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt on. He was washed up and ready for bed. Instead of turning off the light and going to sleep, however, he sat with his chin resting on the fist of his left hand and stared at his phone screen intently.

He had the messages app opened to the text chain with Mia. He backtracked the messages until he came across the ones from early April when she left for rehab.

I'm so sorry. I need help again… I tried my hardest, but it wasn't enough.

His sister apologized as though this were her fault. But he knew it wasn't. Addiction was a chronic condition. Yet, Mia thought every bad thing that happened to the Rutherfords, including their parents' death, was somehow her fault.

Cullen could almost hear his sister's defeated tone through the texts. It gripped his heart painfully, making him draw a sharp breath.

Take care of yourself, Cul. I love you.

Rosie and Bran and me, we all love you. Very much.

I miss you.

He did not know how to respond then. When he scrolled down, he found some inane replies from himself that mindlessly repeated how everything was going to be all right and how things would improve once she got some help. A series of run-of-the-mill responses.

Cullen remembered those grim couple weeks when Mia's addiction came to fore once again. He hid behind the excuse that he was in Japan and left everything for Branson and Rosalie to take care of. He was craven. Even so, he could not escape the feeling of dread, knowing that Mia was in serious trouble.

During Mia's time in rehab, the two siblings talked every weekend. But the text exchanges and the calls were kept short and perfunctory most of the time, and neither Cullen nor Mia strayed from safe topics that random strangers may chat about. The weather, all variants of observations that included how hot and humid the outside was turning. Cullen's work, how long and tiring it could be sometimes. The Japanese and their customs. And some recreational activities Mia would engage in at the rehabilitation center.

The dread Cullen felt for Mia's health and safety prevented him from bringing up serious topics that they should have discussed. At least neither of the siblings attempted to pretend that she wasn't at rehab.

Now, Cullen had to overcome the dread that had hardened into guilt and covered much of his memory of Mia. It was like desiccated mud. The kind that had been wet and dried multiple times until it was caked and kiln-baked hard. And Cullen and Mia needed to have a serious conversation about his pointed absence from her life not just in the previous months, but for the years since he left for college.

It was 2300 in Japan and 0900 in New Hampshire. Mia would be up by now, used to waking up early to take care of her siblings. He reached out and tentatively began to type out a message.

Hey, Mia. How are you?

Cullen heaved a heavy sigh. No, this was no good. The greeting sounded too formal. Besides, it would be better to talk in person. Or at least looking at each other through the phone screens. He swiftly deleted the second sentence and began anew.

Hey, Mia. Can I call you?

There was an immediate reply that read, Yeah, of course! Call me.

It was always a little bit awkward to watch himself on his own phone screen as the video call went out. He never knew where to direct his eyes. But Mia picked up quickly.

She smiled her trademark smile with dimples. "Hey! It's not the weekend. What are you doing calling me?"

"What, I can't call you unless it's the weekend…?" Cullen realized he could come across as too defensive and let the end taper off into an indistinguishable sound.

Mia seemed unperturbed as she rolled her eyes. "Well, yes, of course you can call me. I just didn't expect it. It's a nice surprise."

"Good. I'm glad. I… uh…"

Cullen knew he was scratching the back of his neck as he was wont to do when he was nervous. And there was no way Mia would miss that telltale sign. She asked with some trepidation, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," croaked Cullen. "Yeah, everything's alright. I just… I need to talk to you about something."

"Uh oh. What is it?"

"I wanted to apologize… for being so absent all these years. I should've rallied for you. I should've been there to help out with… everything, but I didn't. Not after I got into college."

Mia sat down by the familiar kitchen counter painted in the 1980s colors and frowned. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"I mean what I said. I'm sorry for being away for so long. I'm sorry for being away still."

With his heart at his throat, Cullen continued, "I can't make up for what I failed to do, but I'll still do my best. I've got some savings. Let me help out with the family."

Mia shook her head all the while exhaling. "Okay, you've got the wrong end of the stick there. You didn't fail me or anyone else. You were in college, and now you're in the Navy. Of course, you can't just come home at the drop of a hat.

"And don't you even think about spending your money that way, Cullen. It's your savings. You've got your own student loans to think about. Don't you dare."

Stubborn, all card-carrying members of the Rutherford family, sometimes to their detriment. Cullen pursed his lips before pointing out, "I wouldn't offer unless I can help out. And I want to help out. Come on, Mia."

"No. And that's final. I won't hear any more of it, okay?"

The phone abruptly went silent. Both Mia and Cullen glared at each other, the siblings united in mutual annoyance. They stayed that way for a few seconds before Mia looked away and broke the silence, "So… have you been playing chess at all?"

The conversation had taken a turn toward non sequitur. Cullen shook his head and sighed. It would be better to engage than insist upon turning the topic back to the issue of money.

"No. Why do you ask?"

Mia explained coolly, "I've been bored after coming home and haven't been able to find a job yet, so I did some spring cleaning. Rosie yelled at me for doing that, but whatever. She ain't my boss.

"I found the chess set we used to play with as kids. Rosie and I ended up playing a few games on it. Not that they went well since we'd forgotten so much of the rules.

"It made me think of you when you were younger. When… our parents were still alive. You were always a sore loser. You even practiced with Bran until you were able to beat me."

Mia began to transmute the non sequitur into reminiscence.

"You know, I relied on you the most after mom and dad died. I had you take care of Bran and Rosie all the time. And the house too. I should've known better than to burden you with so much. You were only fourteen… But you were the only one I could completely trust then. I'm sorry for overburdening you with my problems."

This was classic Mia. She collected guilt like other people hoarded collector's items like stamps or unopened boxes of plastic toys: with great enthusiasm and unstoppable energy. Cullen had to disabuse Mia of this ridiculous notion.

"Mia, they were our problems. You didn't do anything wrong!" exclaimed Cullen. "I had to pitch in. I knew it then, and I know it now. There was no way you could've done everything by yourself."

But Mia smiled her sad smile. Even with the dimples, she looked melancholy. "But that's the thing. You were just a kid when you had to do all those things. And now, with me all broken, you think you have to step in and fix everything for everyone in this family.

"That's why you feel like you've committed some grave sin by not coming home. But don't. Just… don't. Bran and Rosie are all grown up with their own lives. And I'm going to be alright, I promise. You did the right thing by living your life, and I'm proud of you. That's all."

As he watched Mia somehow justify his absence, Cullen could not stop the miniscule globules of tears gathering by his eyes. He tried to sniff them back. He couldn't. His left hand holding the phone up shook unbearably as the tears overflowed and he began to sob.

And Mia was there to catch him, as she always did. As she always… always did. "Be kinder to yourself. We've all been through so much, but you. You did so well. I know for a fact that mom and dad would be so proud of you too."

Cullen tried his best to catch the tear drops and erase the lacrimal evidence. He must look a mess. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be a better brother for you."

Mia scolded, "Stop. What did I just tell you? You need to be nicer to yourself. I can't have my favorite – yeah, I said it – my favorite brother beat himself up over something that shouldn't matter."

Cullen laughed through the tears. "I'm your favorite brother?"

"Eh, don't tell Bran that," Mia waved flippantly.

It was impossible not to apologize as he composed himself. He repeated lame sorries as he rubbed his face clean, and Mia repeated "Stop apologizing."

But eventually, he pieced back his stoic self. When he looked up, Mia was beaming. There was some mischievousness in her countenance that he could not understand.

"Want to hear something funny?"

Cullen furrowed his forehead and drawled with unease, "Sure…"

"Have you seen The Queen's Gambit? I don't know if you have Netflix…"

Cullen had seen the show at Tharin's apartment at the young man's recommendation. They had planned to finish it eventually, but Cullen found the depiction of substance abuse hard to watch. So, even though he rather liked the main character, he avoided forging ahead with the show, and the young man thankfully did not press.

He answered, "Yeah, I've seen a few episodes. Why?"

"Well? Doesn't Beth Harmon remind you of someone?"

Cullen thought deep and hard, but nothing came to his mind. He couldn't even remember if he knew a redhead. He must, but he couldn't recall anyone.

Instead of responding, Cullen merely bit his lip and shook his head.

Mia had a goofy grin on as she counted off, "Precocious, great at chess… A junkie?"

Now Cullen knew exactly what she was talking about. He grunted disapprovingly, "Jeez…"

"It's me! Me! I'm Beth Harmon!" shouted Mia as she threw her one free hand in the air.

As Cullen raised his brows and groaned once again, Mia pointed her index finger at him and proclaimed, "Hey, I've learned to not take myself too seriously. You should too!"

If Mia could see through Cullen, the opposite was true as well. Cullen saw Mia. And on the other side of the screen was a woman hoping to make everything all right by rendering her addiction into something she could joke about. She was always like that. Self-sacrifice and service. The family before herself. She would have been phenomenal had she decided to serve in the military instead of Cullen.

The thought made Cullen well up once again.

"Mia."

His sister was still chortling when she asked, "Yeah, Cul?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"You're welcome. Weirdo."

On Mia's visage was a soft smile that reminded Cullen of home.

At the end of October came trilateral Exercise Malabar, in which naval forces of the U.S., India, and Japan engaged in an offshore training. The USS McKee sailed to the Philippine Sea to represent the U.S. Navy, and Cullen had to be away from Japan for two weeks.

On the night Cullen returned from the training exercise, he received long texts from his boyfriend. They happened to come as he opened his bedroom door and dropped his full duffel bag on the floor.

I don't know if you're back in your barracks or what, so I'm gonna just text.

You've been traveling all over the place because of me. I think it's my turn to return the favor and visit you in Yokosuka. Now, I know I can't just walk into the military base, so I was thinking we could meet somewhere else.

There's a park near the base that's supposed to be really nice. Why don't we have a little picnic there, just the two of us?

The suggestion was so reasonable and yet so adorable that Cullen burst out laughing. A twosome picnic at a local park, why not? Still in his Navy Service Uniform, he flopped himself on the bed and started a video call to Tharin.

The call was answered instantly. But it looked like the whole screen had gone black. He heard some rustling and with a little click sound, the light flooded the phone.

The bed squeaked, and the screen seemed to levitate until Tharin appeared, his torso bared, lying on his side, and his head on the pillow. The young man drawled with a drowsy voice, "Hey! You're back!"

Only now aware of how late it really was – past 2300 –, Cullen apologized, "Yeah… Uh, sorry for calling you so late."

"Oh, that's okay. I was texting you just now anyway. You didn't wake me up or anything." But Tharin yawned extravagantly and rubbed his face, things that only the most exhausted did.

Cullen felt terrible. He should have remembered that Tharin taught English at a junior high. Early day was a given, not an exception. He stated warily, "I should let you go to bed. We can talk tomorrow."

At that, the young man's mouth curled upward. "No, I'm fine. I can't pass up an opportunity to talk to you."

Those words had the effect of making Cullen feel cozy, like he was swaddled in a blanket made from superfine fibers. He declared earnestly, "I missed you so much."

It seemed to have stumped Tharin for a second, but he soon replied, "I missed you too." Then, the young man added smoothly, "Nice uniform."

"Oh, right, thanks." The comment about his attire reminded Cullen of a past memory, and he had a wicked thought. He began to unbutton the front of his khaki shirt as he tried to make a seductive face. Except he had absolutely no idea what a seductive face should look like. Maybe a duck face? No… Even Zoolander's Blue Steel would look sexy compared to a duck face.

After undoing two buttons and opening the shirt wide, he whispered in an intentionally gravelly voice, "Does it get you hot and bothered when I strip for you in the uniform, Mr. Trevelyan?" Not that it would have riled Tharin up anyway. All he was showing off was the T-shirt he had on underneath the khaki.

But his ridiculous demeanor was enough to elicit a heap of reaction from Tharin. The young man harrumphed as his cheeks turned crimson. He mumbled almost inaudibly, "…Shuddup."

The reaction was everything Cullen had hoped for. He laughed in a strangled howl, trying not to make too much noise, until his right eye teared up. Wiping the moisture away, he assented, "So, yeah. I think it's a great suggestion. Let's have a picnic at the park you mentioned. Where is it?"

"It's right next door to Yokosuka Station. It shouldn't be too hard to find." The young man added, "Wanna meet at the station and walk there together?"

"Sounds great. Next liberty is coming up this weekend."

"Good!"

"Do you need me to bring anything? Food? Drinks?"

"Don't worry about that. Just come." The young man's face suddenly turned pensive. "Just… come…"

There was unexpected silence between them. Cullen wasn't sure what had happened to upset Tharin. He inquired, ignoring the tide of anxiety ebbing and flowing in him, "Is everything alright?"

It seemed to snap the young man out of contemplation. His lips upturned softly, and he responded, "Yeah. Yeah… Everything's alright… I just miss you a lot."

It was hard not to wonder whether Tharin was being completely forthright, but Cullen decided not to push. He trusted that if the young man were to hide something, there was a reason for it, and he would ultimately tell him everything. He just had to be patient, like Tharin had been for so long.

Cullen imagined Tharin's lips on his and inadvertently shivered. His heart sped up. He swallowed roughly before susurrating, "I'll show you how much I missed you."

On the day of their picnic, Yokosuka was sunny but cool. The seaside town was innately windy, which made the temperature drop further.

Cullen's outfit was casual. A white T-shirt worn underneath a vermillion flannel shirt buttoned up and left untucked. A pair of denims with a chestnut-colored belt and white Converse.

He stood outside Yokosuka Station observing people coming and going. The station itself was housed in a non-descript off-white and umber building. The only thing that stood out was the station's crest, which included a golden anchor and a seagull. A desperate attempt to differentiate itself from thousands of other train stations in and around Tokyo, Cullen assumed.

To the right of the main entrance stood a photo booth machine. Cullen thought back to Ham & Egg on Takeshita Street. He chuckled and braced himself as he felt his cheeks heat up.

Just after 1226, Tharin strode out of the main exit, looking dapper in his sunglasses. The young man looked more formal. He had on a button-down crimson gingham shirt untucked under a dark-blue V-neck sweater. These were followed up with charcoal-gray Dockers and russet Oxfords.

As promised, Tharin was carrying a large canvas tote filled with what was presumably their picnic lunch. When he spotted Cullen, he took off the sunglasses and put them on his collar.

Cullen walked up to Tharin and hugged him tightly. He did not have time to check for the other man's reaction.

"Hey, you," whispered Cullen.

"Hey…" answered Tharin as he wrapped his arms around.

But that was the limit. Ever mindful of the daylight and a small contingent of potential onlookers and taxi drivers waiting for passengers, Cullen dared not kiss Tharin in public. His whole body seemed to ring from nervous excitement at the mere embrace.

Verny Park was attached to the station. All they had to do was cross a road underneath a large highway overpass and they were at the entrance. The path was guarded by two brick structures that were too squat to be described as watch posts and too enclosed to be gazebos.

As usual, Cullen had done his research. Named after Léonce Verny, a foreign advisor hired by the Japanese government to build the original Yokosuka Naval Arsenal, the gardens of the park were meticulously maintained in French style. Whatever that French style actually entailed.

What stood out more to Cullen was the fact that the park faced a part of the peninsula that housed both the U.S. and Japanese naval bases. He could see several cruisers docked across the bay, and on his right were the buildings of downtown Yokosuka. The boardwalk seemed to stretch for miles toward the city center.

He looked over the railing to find that the water was not exactly pristine. There was a thin film of unctuous substance on top, reflecting the light in rainbow colors. It must be all the naval presence here.

Wind seemed to rise fiercer as they strolled the shoreline. The two men continued down the boardwalk until they found a fountain surrounded by benches and flowerpots. The fountain itself was not operational. The city must have turned it off, what with cold weather approaching soon. With flowerbeds and lawns around the area, it was secluded from all the people enjoying an autumn day off.

A picnic would usually entail its participants casually sitting on a checkered blanket on the grass, but this park seemed to be so well taken care of that sitting anywhere other than the benches would have felt like committing a grave crime. Tharin must have thought the same, because he approached one of the backless benches by the fountain and intoned, "Shall we?" Cullen simply nodded and sat down.

Before settling, Tharin emptied the contents of the canvas bag. Two bottles of green tea they liked, three bento boxes, and two sets of chopsticks.

One by one, Tharin opened the boxes and revealed the insides. They were filled with tasty Japanese fare. Two of the boxes had rice balls with seaweed wrapping on them. The other box was divided into three compartments, each bulging with side dishes. In one were stir-fried cocktail wieners and kabocha squash. The sausages were cut into little octopi and crabs. In the other were strings of green pepper and small pieces of chikuwa fish cake stir-fried in curry powder. In the middle were Japanese rolled omelettes.

Staring down at the food in awe, Cullen inquired, "Did you make all this?"

Tharin shrugged. "Yeah."

"You're just perfect." Too perfect for me, the darkness yet untamed within Cullen thrashed. He managed to quash it just barely.

The young man blushed. "No… Not really."

With the sumptuous feast in front of him, Cullen decided to try something new. He calmed his thumping heart, gathered his hands, balanced the chopsticks with his thumbs, and murmured, "Itadakimasu."

Tharin made a noise of surprise and asked, "Where'd you learn that?"

Looking deeply into the other man's cobalt blue eyes, Cullen crinkled his own before giving an answer, "From the primer you gave me." He blinked and added, "I've been practicing, because you said…"

The young man looked thoughtful for a second before scoffing in amusement, "I wasn't actually gonna ration sex, dummy."

Cullen smirked. "I couldn't chance it."

"Well, now you know how to start a meal in Japanese. Incentivizing sex, I'm a great language study buddy."

"And a bad boyfriend," finished Cullen breezily and chortled.

But Tharin fell quiet all of a sudden. There was an inexplicable furrow on his brow. The merriment remained in his countenance, but it seemed somewhat forced. Cullen ignored the disquieting feeling rising from his gut.

And the young man was oddly quiet while they ate as well. It made it hard to concentrate on the flavor of the food. Everything was good, as far as Cullen could tell with a distracted mind. Attempting to fill the silence, Cullen talked about aircraft carriers and cruisers nonstop. It seemed to barely register in Tharin, though the young man was paying close attention to it. The mood kept growing gloomier despite Cullen's valiant attempts.

After the two men finished everything including two bottles of green tea, they cleared their spot, put everything back in the canvas tote, and walked over to the edge of the boardwalk. Leaning forward on the railing, heavy silence sat between the two. The unresolved tension was like a dormant volcano, a larger issue – whatever it may be – boiling and bubbling in the magma chamber, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Cullen drew in a deep breath, hoping the sea air would calm him down. But all he smelled was the autumnal decay with an undertone of chemical tang. Gray seagulls flew in and idled overhead, obviously looking to steal food from unsuspecting people in the promenade. Honestly, they could have picked a better spot for a date than Yokosuka.

Even with Cullen's gaze squarely directed at Tharin, the young man refused to turn, let alone utter a word. The sentimental visage was turned toward the bay, taking in the waves cresting high.

No longer willing to let the silence poison the moment, Cullen began with a concerned voice, "Talk to me, Thar. There's obviously something going on."

"Cul…"

"Have I… done something?"

"No. But you are right. There is something." In front of Cullen's incredulous eyes, tears traced paths on Tharin's reddish cheeks. "I'm so sorry… I…" He stuttered, "I…"

The only thing Cullen could do was to approach the young man and embrace him firmly. To hell with crippling self-consciousness about public displays of affection. Tharin was clearly distraught and needed his touch. With his lips next to Tharin's right ear, Cullen worriedly whispered, "What's going on, Thar? What's wrong?"

Tharin did not move to reciprocate the embrace. He merely said, "I like you so much, Cul. It's already nearly impossible for me to imagine my life without you… But I think I have to be strong."

Then came the words that fundamentally shattered Cullen's orderly world.

"…I think we need to take a break until you figure out what you really want from me."

Cullen's heart seemed to palpitate erratically, and he let go of the young man.

"Wha… Where is this coming from?"

Was this an ambush?

Wiping his tears away with his palms, Tharin explained with a hitch in his voice, "It's coming from you, Cul. There are some things that clearly bother you about this relationship… The age gap to begin with. And you must have thought about our limited time in Japan."

Cullen vehemently argued, "No, no, no. I only asked because I thought it may bother you. And you said it doesn't. So, it's fine. There's no need to dwell on it."

With incarnadined sclerae, Tharin continued resolutely, "You asked because it is clearly in your mind. The age difference does bother you. And you know that isn't the only issue we face."

Fury spread within Cullen like a spilled beaker of concentrated acid. It melted and scorched the splinters of his breaking heart, rendering them into a pile of soot. It was heartburn in the most metaphorical sense. Miraculously, he managed to keep the vitriol in check as he thought of words to say. He ran his hands through his hair roughly and took a deep breath before asking in a low voice, "Is… Is this why you wanted to meet in Yokosuka today? So we can have the talk?"

"Yeah. I suppose… this was why."

Cullen continuously clenched and unclenched his fists, willing his body to relax. It accomplished nothing. He breathed shakily, "But… I fought for you… I fought for our relationship… Does that count for nothing?"

Cullen knew his fury was showing. Shards of white-hot anger poking through his deceptively calm words. When he turned, he saw a few Japanese parkgoers walk by them as though nothing was wrong. It was patently unfair how peaceful they all were when his relationship seemed to be circling down the drain.

Even confronted by this anger, Tharin did not shrink. The young man adamantly expounded with now steadied tone, "Of course, it matters. It matters a lot. And I'm so thankful that you came back. But I just want… I need our relationship to be stronger than what it is now."

Cullen was bitter, bitter enough to believe that every sentence spoken, every action taken was bringing the two men closer and closer to a breakup. And the breakup seemed imminent. Part of him wanted to let forth a diatribe, but with iron will, he suppressed it. Still, he knew he needed practice in defusing the anger within him.

Cullen looked straight ahead at the young man as he murmured, "Why didn't you come to me sooner, Thar? We could've talked. Do something. Anything."

Tharin nodded. "I'm really sorry that this seems sudden. But it isn't sudden for me. I've been thinking about it for weeks. Since you mentioned the age gap back in Harajuku. I just… didn't know how to bring it up with you until today.

Cullen now stared down at the wooden plank of the boardwalk. He could not believe what was happening. When the young man touched his left arm, he felt sharp prickles spread from the spot. In spite of Cullen's evident anger, Tharin continued his entreaty, "Please think about what you want. If you want this to be a casual fling, I'll understand. If you want this to last just until one of us leaves Japan, that's fine too."

He grasped Tharin's hand that had been caressing his arm. With a breaking voice, he demanded, "Are you saying you prefer those options? Are you trying to tell me that I mean that little to you?"

Instead of letting go, Tharin intertwined their fingers. With a serious expression, the young man asserted, "Cul… You mean more to me than you know. But I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. And I'm… I'm just not sure what you want right now.

"Whatever you decide, I will accept it. And I won't bother you while you think. Call me… Or text me when you've made a decision. Please."

At that final declaration, Cullen felt all energy leave him at once. His whole body felt heavier as though Earth's gravity had multiplied. He retracted his hand and leaned forward against the railing in order to even himself out. He hid his face behind the hands. He felt like crying, but no tears came. Small things to be thankful for, he thought.

Tharin approached and gave him a side hug. The young man's left hand squeezed his shoulder. And as if to convince himself as well as Cullen, Tharin susurrated, "This isn't a breakup. This isn't the end. I won't let us end like this…"

Cullen looked up, refusing to meet Tharin's earnest eyes. He saw hungry seagulls fly around him like vultures, and he had nothing to give.

After Tharin's revelation, there was no point in pretending everything was fine. The two men stood side by side in absolute silence, their arms folded rigidly, looking down at the polluted waves break against the boardwalk.

Even if they were to put on a charade, there was not much to do in Yokosuka. It was a boring suburb of Tokyo and Yokohama, the only noteworthy quality of which was the presence of naval bases. Perhaps they could've gone to one of many bars that catered to Americans to get a head start on dipsomaniacal discombobulation, but some obstinate part of Cullen did not want to appear weak in front of Tharin now. He wanted to put on a strong front, frantically preparing to treat the young man like an ex. Not that Cullen had any experience treating anyone like an ex.

It was only quarter to 1400 when Tharin picked up the canvas bag from his side and began, "I should head back." Cullen nodded stiffly.

In deafening quietness, the two men started toward Yokosuka Station. It took them less than five minutes to backtrack the way they came.

Cullen followed inside the station until they reached the turnstile. He could go no farther. This was the dead end for him. But not for Tharin. Tharin would go through the turnstile, take the train away from Yokosuka, and exit from his life so effortlessly. Like an actor deciding to leave a show after many successful seasons, before the show jumped the shark. Maybe Tharin was ready for another adventure that most definitely did not include Cullen.

In that brief moment from the station entrance to the turnstile, Cullen thought. He thought hard. And he reached a gloomy conclusion. Just like his stint in Japan, Tharin's relationship with Cullen was supposed to be a fleeting affair. An experience that would lead to better things in the future, but ephemeral, nonetheless. He had no right to interfere with what was supposed to be a natural course of events.

This was good. This way, they could let their relationship peter out. A something would decay into nothing. Cullen would be hurt, but the hurt would be spread out and thus weaker in magnitude compared to if he were to be thrown away all at once.

This, whatever this was, must have been what the end felt like.

When Tharin turned to bid farewell, Cullen summoned all the strength in him and cinched his arms around the young man, who embraced back with just as much intensity. It was a hug that would threaten to crush even his soul. It lasted as long as Cullen needed it to last. And still it was not enough.

There was only one word Cullen could utter.

"Thar…"

He uttered the name like this were the first time he had seen the young man after many years away. As though he were beseeching for mercy from a god who had abandoned him. But as they broke from the embrace, Cullen saw things he could not possibly hope to comprehend on Tharin's face. And that scared him more than anything.

With neither a kiss nor even an actual goodbye, Tharin left. Cullen waited at the turnstile until the young man turned a corner without looking back once. Still, he waited until the northbound train roared into the station. And still, he waited to watch Tharin get onboard the train.

And yet, he waited.

Cullen waited…

END NOTE

So... another low point for Cullen and Tharin.

Next up, Cullen is stubborn and would rather wallow in sadness.