Chapter Text
Every time Cal kneels to meditate, images of Bode flood his mind. Bode's eyes, warm and sad, totally at odds with his personality. Bode's hands, which leave trails of fire every time they brush against him unintentionally. He wants those hands to hold him down and contain him, own him, keep him.
Thinking like this makes Cal feel like a different person, or like he's walking around outside his skin. He isn't supposed to think about these things, or want them. He's supposed to be a Jedi. But lately he's losing track of what that means. He knows he isn't supposed to get attached to people, but sometimes it feels as if that's all he does. Cere and Merrin and Greez mattered so much it took his breath away, and when they walked away, it was like being punched in the face. Now he's lost everyone all over again with his new crew. He's even too attached to BD, or so he's been told.
So he can't get rid of his attachments. The best he can do is to keep his mouth shut about them. He knows he didn't hide it well enough with Merrin, and he thinks that might be why she left.
Everyone dies or leaves. Bode hasn't left yet.
Cal knows, distantly, that he's putting a lot on Bode–that he puts a lot on everybody. But that doesn't stop him from wanting people to be what he expects them to be. He can't tell if Bode knows how he fefels. Sometimes it seems like Bode is flirting, but Cal's not great at reading these things. Maybe Bode's just being nice. A friend. A brother.
It makes Cal feel guilty, but only a little. He's too alight with need to be slowed down by that. He knows he's probably transparent in the way he stares at Bode, but he's never anything but honest. He's got to be himself, even if that's not something people want.
On the Coruscant mission, Bode is all jokes and compliments, easy-going, friendly. Cal feels as if he's magnetized to him immediately. It's not until after, when Cal is in pieces grieving the rest of the crew, that he recognizes the problem for what it is.
The closer he and Bode become, and the more missions they go on together, the bigger the problem becomes. Cal sits and tries to meditate, but the wave of calming blankness doesn't come. Instead are images of Bode–His hands, his chest, his laugh, the way he moves. Cal shakes his head to clear it, but it doesn't work. He feels feverish.
He feels that way about everything lately, but Bode makes it all worse. Cal can't see past the driving need to defeat the Empire and the fear of losing someone else he loves while he does it. The need and fear grow at the same pace, a hunger he can't sate, a wound he can't staunch.
On Koboh, Bode buys him a drink one evening, when the saloon is quiet.
"So, tell me," he says, his dark eyes sparkling across the table, "What do Jedi do for fun?"
"Fun isn't permitted by the Code," Cal says, and it's only when Bode looks uncertain that Cal says, "Kidding. You don't know much about Jedi, do you?"
Bode shrugs. "I know they were a religious order that kept peace. You know, before they were soldiers."
Cal frowns. "They were a lot more than that. Are a lot more. There are still Jedi." It doesn't feel that way, though. It feels as if he's the only one.
"You're the first one I've been up close and personal with," Bode says. Even the sound of his voice does something crazy to the inside of Cal's brain.
"I can tell you about them," Cal says. He probably isn't the best person. He was barely trained, and he doesn't remember everything he should. Cere would do a better job. If she were here.
"Yeah, if you want," Bode says.
He's always saying things like that. Letting Cal choose what to talk about, where to go, what to do. It's exhausting sometimes, being the one who makes all the choices. He wishes Bode would just step in and take control. That he'd grab Cal by the hair and push him–
Cal blinks, his throat dry.
"What's up?" Bode asks.
Cal squeezes his eyes shut. "I need some sleep," he says. But instead, when he goes back to his room that night, he thinks about Bode. He doesn't touch himself, but he replays scenarios in his head over and over, adding detail each time until they're perfect. He has a lot of time alone in his head for things like that, but now it's all Bode.
He pushes himself harder and harder to get the feelings out of his head. He pushes himself until he's breathless, bruised, and shaking. He flings himself off mountains on Koboh, and into fights he can't get out of unscathed. He treks through sandstorms and freezing nights and into the mouths of monsters. At the end of the day, he still wants Bode.
On Jedha, he stands from meditating, annoyed with himself, and sees Bode smile at him from across the archive room. He can never tell what Bode is thinking. That's the terrifying part.
He's so grateful to have Merrin back that it drives Bode out of his head for a moment. But Merrin is different. She's broadened her world so that it contains so many things besides Cal, and the wound of her leaving still smarts.
They're in the desert together, getting some air before it's too cold, and Merrin says, "Tell me about Bode."
Cal finds himself blushing, even though Merrin can't possibly know what happens every time he closes his eyes. "What about him?"
Merrin raises her eyebrows, as if to say, Don't be embarrassing. "I know you watch him. A new infatuation?"
Cal feels a spark of anger ignite in his chest. That's been happening more often, too. "What does that mean?"
"I've seen you put all of your hopes into one thing before," Merrin says.
Cal turns back toward the base, his face burning. "I don't do that." He sounds like a stubborn child.
Merrin doesn't challenge him, probably because she knows she's right. Cal swallows down memories of how he hurled his feelings and expectations at her, at Cere, at Prauf, even at his master. And look how that turned out. But he was never on fire like this before. He doesn't know how to explain that.
He makes himself turn back to Merrin. "I don't think I can talk about this," he says. "Bode's just–important."
Merrin tilts her head to the side and says, "His mind is a fortress. I do not trust it. But so far, he seems to be a good man."
"So–we're okay?" Cal says. He doesn't want her to think he doesn't want her here. That thought puts a knot in his gut.
Merrin raises her eyebrows at him. "I have people, Cal Kestis. Make sure you have something besides this one thing."
But right now, Cal doesn't.