sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Bodhi Rook
WHERE: House 23
WHEN: Shortly after Kira's arrival
OPEN TO: Jude
WARNINGS: None anticipated, will add

He had to be alone for a while after. There are things he's finally started trying to fix after the better part of a year, but there are also things he understands are futile, and trying to talk to anyone after he finally left Kira would have been one of those. And probably just as uncomfortable for them as for him. So he walked. It's what he does. The chores that he usually uses as excuses are gone now, all the herbs and little edibles dead or entering some sort of seasonal torpor, the kindling wet even if the supply wasn't fine at home, the dog in no need of his companionship... No, can't find an excuse, just a walk, and he stays out until the day begins to fade and the cold gets in too deep.

Bodhi likes to insist he's never cold. He's too Jedhan to be cold. Everyone else is overreacting. And for a while it's true, but the still, wet cold here is completely different from the arid wind he knows how to take, and his robe isn't really up to it. The cold sneaks in subtly, or he's just that distracted. It takes him unawares when he realizes he's shivering and the line between hurting and numb is getting fuzzy in certain extremities.

He's still not really ready to talk to anyone, but dragging himself to exhaustion did make it a bit better. And Jude's not someone, he's safety. Not to mention in a house far away from what Bodhi can't really face right now. He knows he's supposed to come to Jude now, unnatural as it feels to be any trouble. This is where he should go. But knocking still feels awkward and presumptuous and like it can't possibly be a good idea.

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He just doesn't understand--maybe he never will--how the only thing he can even think to say can be the wrong thing. This is why he doesn't talk much. He has to turn his hand over under Bodhi's two and wait for a pause in all the words, wait for no more starts after the stops, and intone his name. "Bodhi."

Just that, just something to ground them both in the dark.

"Cold's fine. I'm fine. You can be upset, I just--pick warmer places to do it." Which just sounds--like it's for him, but he means in general. Bodhi showed up worse off than he is now. "You could get sick, I mean."

"I usually try to... nevermind." He isn't sure he could even explain. The way he tries to reserve places for feelings isn't one of those old habits of his turned weirder and worse. He's so rarely had any place, even his ships and berths totally transitory, assigned only where and when he happens to be useful. Having home, having favorite walks, having a spot to go cry in are all equally new and strange. And lend themselves very well to his attempts to compartmentalize himself and keep the bad hidden from the pretty okay. Now he's crossed those wires. Jude's home and a staggering failure to keep his composure.

Then again, maybe it's not so new. Once he flew away. Now that's not an option. And when he finally flew home again it didn't go great.

"Let's get... Let's go back where it's warm." He has to or Jude will get colder. Even if he has really karked this up for good.

Is this another wrong thing? He isn't trying to force it one way or another, he just wants Bodhi safe while he works this out. "We could get a fire in the stove for you, hang a blanket over the door, if you want to stay." If Bodhi doesn't want him around, he can just bring the warmth to Bodhi.

Jude, given a home, hasn't been able to get used to all the space. He's had a trailer and a dorm, barely grew up with a real bedroom--it's been habit to narrow the space down and forget the house as a whole.

All these extra rooms? Bodhi can transform them to his own needs. Jude hardly feels an ownership of them, after all this time.

Not really grasping the weight of the offer--an invitation to make a little of Jude's space his own--all he can think of is not being trouble. Another fire would waste fuel. Jude being out here with him is wasting... well, comfort. The nice, safe, warm space the two of them should be in. "N-no, I... I'm coming back?" He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but, kriffing hell, does Jude even want him back after this? He knows he won't be pleasant company. Jude probably does, too. He manages to keep himself from apologizing some more just for good measure and squeezes Jude's hand. Not letting go, not now. Jude hasn't served him up the rejection he deserves yet, but this might push it over the edge.

Bodhi--compensates. Extra words, that adjustment of gaze just off-center from what he can't quite look at. Touching Jude's hand, squeezing it.

Kissing him.

He doesn't have the years of understanding he had at home, with Parker, with the people he saw every day. But he is paying attention, and he has his sketches. Jude probably does it his own ways--with the art, really. Everything else he isn't, he's never really tried to be. It's biting him in the ass, now. "Okay, but if you want to come back out here, just--make yourself a fire." Bodhi can stay or Bodhi can go--he wants him to stay, but he's used to people doing what they need over what he wants. That's alright.

Squeezing back, he gets up slowly, not pulling out of the tether of their hands. Reassurance is a harder thing to find, and maybe it isn't a good sign, just a sign of how fucked he is--the stupid thrill of holding onto Bodhi in the dark. "I can move things around, if you don't--if all the seats are too close," he adds, as close to babbling as he ever gets.

It'd be wonderful to tell him no, that there was no reason to move anything. Bodhi could see himself thanking Jude properly for the night's sweetness and putting aside the dark. It wasn't that hard to picture, but unfortunately, he could see himself cringing away and starting to tremble again just as clearly as he could see wrapping Jude in a real hug and kissing him the way he should be kissed.

"I... I don't think you--I'll just sit by myself a little bit. There's room." That had been the original plan, and he was the one who'd invited Jude to curl up next to him and use him as a pillow. This inconsistency was almost worse than what he couldn't do in the first place. Poor Jude. Badly as he wanted that contact--for himself, and so Jude wouldn't feel like this was a complete waste of time--he shouldn't be asking in the first place and putting them in a situation like this.

At least he can hold Jude's hand. He's getting used to it. Kriff, what an awful thing to have to get used to.

"There's a chair, and the couch," he agrees. "I'm used to the cushions anyway." His bed on the floor is an optimal recreation of his narrow space in the window, which was itself a recreation of narrow beds back home, made more so by holding all of his books and half of his clothes. One thing the house hasn't been since he moved in is definitely tidy.

Jude gives it another moment, another few breaths in the dark. There's a distant glow to guide them back, firelight through sheets and curtains, around a corner, but he doesn't want to drag Bodhi anywhere he might not want to be. With no one to lead though, they'll just stay out in the cold; Jude takes the first step back around the edges of the table, pauses, moves again only when Bodhi decides to follow.

Without knowing how to admit upset, there's no way to explain he isn't upset with Bodhi. He just needs to bury it further down with all the rest.

Bodhi moves quickly to follow him. He doesn't want the sensation of being dragged right now, no matter how willingly he'd like to follow. He inevitably hits his foot against the table leg, but only a little, and he's been a clutz all his life. That kind of thing is easy to ignore. If he can just keep it from getting worse, maybe Jude will forgive him in the morning for this fiasco. "Chair," he says softly as he trails along. That leaves Jude the couch, and you can't share a chair with someone. Well, no, you absolutely can, but you have to be able to be cozy if you try. Maybe someday. Maybe.

Eyeing the arrangement, Jude does take the couch, picking up a new blanket and arranging himself to stare at the play of firelight against the ceiling. If he forced Bodhi to step over him for a better place to sleep, he imagines the man would never take it, and he minds far less stepping over him to tend the fire.

"You can wake me up if you need anything," he says, unsure how quickly he'll fall asleep; there's no real desire to escape the situation behind it, but hes's already proven useless, and he doesn't want to chase Bodhi from the warm room with any kind of hovering.