Hello friends! I hope you're doing well! Okay, so unpopular opinion time: I love purple prose. I love writing similes and analogies and metaphors and describing the things I see in my head when I'm writing. I love it. However, writing academic papers for graduate school more or less kills the passion to write in this way; essays are cut and dry, facts and figures only. Which is understandable and all but good God, it gets tedious sometimes. So when I do write something that's not school related I tend to go over the top with flower language as a kind of literary coping mechanism. Fluff and flowers are my jam, you guys. So what I'm trying to say is that I apologize if this chapter is ridiculously flowery and abstract and painted every different shade of purple. School is tedious and Bodhi/Cassian is my outlet ^_^
I hope you like it! :D
Bodhi is cosmic. He's light and sound and starlight, compacted and compressed into human form. He's known facts and unanswerable questions, harmony and dichotomy and everything in between. He represents everything in the universe and Cassian is simultaneously terrified and amazing by him.
He tries to stay away at first, keep his distance from the incredible everything that Bodhi is. He avoids him, pushes him away, flees in any opposite direction because the only way to avoid getting sucked into a gravitational pull is run as far as he can and he has never encountered any force of nature quite like Bodhi.
He pushes away but he finds himself pulled back in before he knows it, undercurrents and riptides jerking the ground out from under him. Bodhi is a maelstrom, strong and undeniable, and Cassian sinks before he can swim.
Cassian has always been drawn to the stars, to the galaxies and nebulae and cosmic labyrinths that stretch across the universe. He finds himself drawn to Bodhi in the same way, caught in his orbit and pulled in tight.
He tells himself to take caution, fly lower, Icarus, your wings can't withstand the sun. Because Bodhi is the sun and everything more. He burns brighter and hotter than anything Cassian has ever seen and he knows, hopelessly and unquestionably, that he's willing to succumb to the flames if it means getting closer to him.
What's alarming is that Bodhi has no idea the power he has, that he holds Cassian and the universe itself on the tip of his fingers. He's oblivious in the best of ways, unaware and unaffected by the sway he holds over Cassian's entire world. He loves Cassian with a quiet kind of intensity that makes Cassian's downfall that much more damning. Bodhi is composed of nothing but warm smiles and soft eyes and everything good that's ever been. He's time and space and reason, undefinable and yet perfectly defined. Cassian knows with a fatalistic kind of certainty that he's completely out of his element.
He tries as hard as he can, he gives it his best shot, but he's no match for something like this. He's never encountered anything like this before. His denial is laughable and his efforts futile. He's in love with Bodhi the way he's in love with the stars and he's never loved anything more.
He resigns himself to his fate and allows himself to get tugged down, content to memorize the curves of bone and flesh that now make up his entire world. He spends hours there, committing every square inch of Bodhi's skin to memory, learning the fabric of the universe with his fingertips and eyes. He traces the outline of his face, the solid rise and dip of his ribs, the long lines of his body. He learns by touch and he wants to learn everything.
Bodhi watches him with an amused yet loving smile, eyes dark with concentration. The color changes and flickers in the right light, shifting from sun-warmed mahogany to a deep, rich sienna. There are flecks of gold in them some days, Midas-bright and just as tempting. Other days there are shimmers of honeyed amber, flickers of copper and speckles of bronze. Cassian looks into his eyes and he sees every shade of earth and wood and precious ored metal. It's like looking into the heart of the world and having that world look back.
He kisses him deeply, drinking him in like a parched desert absorbing rainfall. He kisses Bodhi until he's dizzy and lightheaded, oxygen-starved and gasping, and he doesn't stop. Stopping feels like a crime against logic itself and he's not willing to take that chance. So he keeps kissing him and pulls him down and holds the very concept of logic in the palm of his hand.
There are nights when Cassian breathes Bodhi's name against his skin, the letters creeping out like a prayer. On those nights it feels like worship because it is and he's newly and wholly converted. He murmurs praise along Bodhi's collarbones and the constellations of freckles that dust the tops of his shoulders. His fingers trace grace and invocation along the planes of his chest and the slope of his hips, dipping and gliding like physical poetry. He vows to write haikus and sonnets with nothing but the smoothness of Bodhi's skin to guide him and he thinks he can fill up an entire library with its work.
It's never enough and it's never too much; Bodhi is more intoxicating to him than the most potent substance in the universe. He's addicted to his hands and his warmth and his smile, the way he can make a the smallest gesture seem like an elaborate and carefully organized display. He's thoughtful and careless, reckless and secure, and Cassian braces himself for the whiplash that accompanies this kind of love. He's helpless against him, strung out and craving more, ravenous for everything his sweet, shy pilot can offer.
He pulls him into his arms and holds him close, burying his face in dark hair that smells like cinnamon and trees and starlight. Bodhi shudders and breathes beneath him, voice lost and quiet when he tries to speak. His fingers dig into Cassian's back, long and thin and strong, and he clings to him tightly as the captain continues to explore his body and pay tribute.
Bodhi's voice is an element all its own and Cassian crumbles further every time he says his name. His voice rings of ancient text and newborn language, infinite and untouched. It's primordial and raw, soft and gentle as a breeze and deadly as a hurricane. His words lilt and flow like a river, babbling syllables and white-water rhetoric. At times he's quiet and tranquil, a deep, still pool reflecting the world around him. Other times he's whip-sharp and just as biting, cracking the air with his words and phrases. His voice is poetry, his words a song, and Cassian absorbs every single bit of it.
There are fleeting moments when he thinks he can resist, pull back and regain the composure he's so foolishly lost. He's a captain for Force sake, he should be stronger than this. Losing himself like this will only end in heartbreak and despair. He knows this all too well.
But then...
But then Bodhi smiles, warm and affectionate and only for him, he knows there's no going back. That smile is what gets him every single time, pulls him in and drags him back. Bodhi's smile is like a supernova, impossibly bright and captivating, and he can feel the gravitational pull from it every time. In moments like those, when he's caught in the undeniable tug of Bodhi's smile, he knows, deep in his heart, he's never had control. He's never loved anyone with this much intensity and fascination and he's never lost control like this before. He's absolutely and utterly helpless and Bodhi is to blame.
That smile burns through him like a wildfire, reducing his resolve to ashes and his composure to char. As always, Bodhi is oblivious to this, unaware of how his quick flash of teeth and soft, bright laughter drags Cassian toward the teetering abyss. He kisses him and smiles and there's a very tiny dimple at the left corner of his mouth that Cassian feels he could dedicate the rest of his life to. He's so far down the rabbit hole now that he thinks he might as well invest in real estate.
He thinks he'd be happy to spiral and drift in a love like this, never touching down and never stopping. Gravity doesn't feel real and sometimes he wonders if it ever was; maybe it had always been an illusion. He feels weighted and weightless, caught between hovering and tethered, and then Bodhi is there and gravity is real again.
Bodhi takes his hand and it grounds him. Just like that the world is solid, composed of earth and rock instead of vapor and cumulous clouds. Bodhi is there; Bodhi is always there. Sometimes Cassian has a hard time remembering a life before him and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt there isn't one after him; Bodhi is everything he's ever needed or wanted and everything he knows he could never do without. Bodhi is everything, stars and starlight and stardust, and what would Cassian Andor ever do without the stars?
Bodhi intertwines their fingers, his palm warm and smooth against Cassian's. He holds Cassian steady, anchoring him to world below with gentle, unwavering patience. When Cassian pulls him into his arms Bodhi goes willingly, fitting himself against his chest like he was always made to be there. Cassian holds him close and breathes in the scent of his skin and his hair, spice and electricity and rain. Bodhi is home, everything Cassian has ever wanted that to be, and he doesn't let him go.
Thanks so much for reading guys! :D I know a lot has happened this week and without getting too political I just want to say that I hope you and your family and loved ones are safe. Please take care and know you are loved. I love you all with all my heart. 3