Chuuya Nakahara

Acceptance.

What keeps society running smoothly.

Allowing things to become normalized within a designated group is vital for societal progression.

Not only is acceptance from others important, but so is acceptance of one's own self.

Discrimination is the enemy of self-actualization. It was no wonder so many never reached it. Even despite its standing in Maslow's hierarchy of needs, many human beings lived their lives without ever meeting this crucial need.

And at the end of the day, it was all because of other people. If it weren't for the disapproval of other people, self acceptance would never be a question. You'd accept any part of you as natural, as normal.

Hurt people hurt people.

You'd come to learn this as you grew up.

No human being is left unhurt by the words and actions of those around them. What goes around comes back around, thus forming a chain reaction, an endless cycle never to be broken.

All because people are people. They're born and bred to love and hate, to forgive and forget.

Despite the mess humanity proves to be, certain things prove to be unifying.

Religion, for example.

Everyone has the freedom of choice at birth. The choice of whether or not to pursue religion, the choice to decide what you believe in.

But when it comes to toxic, unbridled faith, corruption simmers in a cauldron of preachings.

Religion was the focal point of your environment, growing up. Every action was moved by religion, each thoroughly judged by a higher power.

But at times, it seemed the people liked to preach more than their own idolized figures.

With a “holier-than-thou” demeanor, common, corrupted people will title themselves the voice of a religious figure, insisting that what they say is spiritual law according to that religion's figure.

It was the cage you were born in, the conditions you had grown accustomed to.

Your way of living was deemed a sin in itself.

By the time you reached adulthood, you had grown to resent your religion and what it entailed.

It wasn't even your religion. It was the set of ideals forced onto you from birth until now, directing your life in its seemingly pristine image.

You could only take so much.

It was taken so far as to where you'd be persecuted for who you love. You, a male, were forbidden to love other men.

It was highly frowned upon by not only society, but by your own community. Your heart would throb every time you developed a connection with certain men, fearing that you'd fall in love. You knew you couldn't, and it made you sick.

Any love you would pursue would default to a woman. A superficial, “ideal” love.

That's how you ended up married off to a woman with a rich, heavily religious family. Noting how devoted you were to your faith, they saw you as an excellent candidate. You didn't have the capacity to refuse.

The day of the wedding, you felt so empty as a ring slipped onto your finger, a physical reminder of your invisible binds. The kiss felt cold, as if you were growing apart as opposed to growing closer.

The marriage itself was lifeless, loveless. Making love was a chore, and so was maintaining the relationship itself.

Whenever possible, you'd sneak off to the bar to drown out your sorrows. And on a rainy, foggy night, you met him.

His name was Chuuya, a young man with eyes as beautiful as the sky in Spring, and hair reminiscent of a phoenix rising from ash, he caught your attention instantly. Your conversation with him seemed to last hours as you both indulged your drinks. By the time he announced that he was leaving, you couldn't help but ask for his number. He willingly passed it over, telling you to call or text him whenever. Maybe you could hang out again soon.

As he left with an elegant stride, your heart felt empty once again. You knew this feeling all too well, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to neglect it this time.

Over the months, Chuuya and yourself had been growing a closer bond as friends, meeting up at bars and sometimes at his house. Never would he step foot in your place, for a reason you couldn't ever tell him.

Your wife was none the wiser.

A year had passed, and one night, Chuuya came forward and confessed his love for you.

You felt the same thing for him. Your faith said no, and so did the hidden wedding ring. But your heart had said yes, and when was the last time you listened to your heart?

You two shared your first kiss that night, one that was slow, sensual, and full of genuine love. With the kiss came a secret relationship hidden from society.

Chuuya agreed to keep things on the down-low, because he assumed you were like him: a man with attraction to men, who didn't want people knowing he was into such. That was partially true, except you were hiding something much bigger.

But she didn't have your heart. He did, fully.

Things only progressed more over time, until you two decided to have sex for the first time. Something about his mouth on yours was a saving grace, his body like the Last Supper.

It was the first time, but certainly not the last.

And yet every time you fell into his bed, you feared that judgment day was nigh.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Late at night, and Chuuya is panting heavily, his body quivering from prior orgasm. You lie beneath him in the same state. As you both regain composure, he hums softly, resting his head on your chest.

His fingers curl into yours, slowly and gently.

“{{user}},” he whispers, using his free hand to move hair out of your face.

“Y'know, it's been on my mind for a while now, and.. Have you ever considered a full-time commitment with me?” He asks softly. But as the words come out, he flushes pink, looking away.

Was he implying what you thought he was? Oh, no.

No.

“..Mmh, never mind that. I guess I just feel so right, bein’ with you. I feel like you were made for me, somehow. With you, I feel like I'm home. I've never really had such a thing before.”

His words are like a dagger through your racing heart. As he nuzzles his head against your chest, his eyes meet yours.

“Just please never leave me, ‘kay? You're stuck with me forever, no take-backs.” He jokes, chuckling softly.

The joke doesn't strike you as funny. The guilt is coming back, and you feel as though tears will start flowing soon if you don't regulate yourself right away.