Hello! I love your content! Could you do some Bo Cash stuff? Preferably the fluffy, romantic stuff?
Bo Cash content incoming ..... I've always kind of had this blurb in the back of my mind so thank you for giving me a reason to bring it to life! Keeping it short bc I'm pressed for time but if yall want follow up to this blurb pls let me know!
___
You'd saw him stretching toward the afternoon sun, contorting his figure into poses by the pool side. He was lean and fit and striking, too beautiful to be in a rundown place like this. Too beautiful to be in your presence, you thought.
"Bo! I stole dinner!" I voice little and far off called, and the man you'd been admiring turned at the sound of what must have been his name. You peered on as the man stretched to stand and shuffled out of your sight.
Sipping your tea, you pretended to occupy your time with the laundry on the line, and counted down the days until you were meant to leave here. You'd applied to university and had just received an acceptance letter in the mail a day ago. One piece of paper changed the direction of your life, yet your day went on the same as so many before it.
No matter why you'd wound up occupying the little camper van on the dullest side of the city, your days there finally became numbered, and nothing thrilled you more to know.
///
Bo cursed Rell, he'd only just gotten started stretching his limbs that day. And he'd barely gotten a good glimpse of you, the only reason he started yoga by the pool was so that he might have seen you out, that day. But Bo's stomach grumbled, so he turned toward dinner and hoped he could find a way close toward you by next sunset.
///
You sat out by the pool after a long night of planning your future. Planning what to pack and who to tell and how to make enough money to get you to where you planned on going. There was a book in your lap and a drink in your hand and a quiet in the night. The pool was far enough away from most campsites that it felt like a retreat, and close enough to yours that it wasn't a trek to get to. So the quiet was expected. Aside from the croaking of tree frogs in the distance, and a few cars rumbling down the far off freeway... nothing. So when the sound of the pool gate clattered, you turned in surprise.
Your jaw slacked ever so slightly when you saw him. Bo, the man you'd been staring at from across the campsite for a day or two now. He was finally right where you'd hoped you'd find him, alone with you.
///
Bo wasn't thinking when he stormed off, only trying to find space to clear his head. His frustrations and fears fogged his thoughts as he stomped toward the usually empty poolside. And when he looked up and saw you there, every worry and wonder faded from his head. All he saw was you. Finally.
///
"I'm sorry to interrupt I-" He stood awkwardly by the pool gate, assessing the way you sat. You snapped the book in your lap shut, and sat up perhaps too eagerly.
"You don't have to leave." You noted quickly, watching no change in the man's stance or uncertain expression. "It would be nice to have some company, for once." You boldly declare, letting a blush get the better of you all the while.
"Okay." He seemed to decide after a moment's consideration. You watch the man you'd been admiring move toward you, a caution in his step, an intensity in his gaze. His eyes fell too your lap and he asked what you were reading.
"Oh just some biography about a pianist. Glenn Go-"
"Glenn Gould?"
"Yeah, actually."
The man gleamed, seemingly enchanted. "I love him." He admitted. You sat there grinning just as wide, trying to comprehend just how divine this interaction felt. Like life had been leading up to this moment. Like life had been leading up to meeting...
"What is your name?" You wondered. Because you thought you knew it but didn't want to seem like some sort of creep that had been watching him from across the park for a handful of days...
"Bo. Yours?"
And after you'd told Bo what to call you, the floodgates slammed open and were torn off their imaginary hinges. The two of you didn't stop conversing for what felt like hours and hours on end. You were impressed by his vast knowledge, the shreds of it he shared in just this short time alone. You were taken aback by his honesty, listening with respectful intensity when he told you the exact events that led him and his family here tonight. You spoke assuredly when he asked you questions, because you could tell he was really listening to your answers.
There was a desperation to your interaction. Like you had only this one night to get to know Bo, and one chance to make an impression on him. But conversation flowed so easily, and the man sat so relaxed in the chair beside yours that time seemed to stall, and the air felt easier to breath all the while.
Then you asked Bo exactly why he'd come to the pool to escape at this odd hour of the night.
And he told you he'd gotten accepted into university, and had a big fight with his father about the ordeal. And then you asked him which university. And Bo revealed he'd been accepted to the same place you had been.
"I don't know what I'll do. How I'll get there. Or if I'll even be a realistically good fit. I just don't know..."
"Well one fact is for certain," You smiled at him. "If you wind up there, you'll have a friend waiting."
When you told Bo you had been accepted into the same school, he locked his stunning crystal eyes on yours and let his smiled grow wide as you'd seen it yet.
"Divine intervention. It must be." His words were softly spoken, and caused your body to buzz with excited wonder.
"If you need a way there, I leave in three days."
"I-I couldn't pay you. I wouldn't be any help at all." Bo sighed. He spoke a bit more about how frustrated he'd become with his parents for failing to prepare him for the real world. For how lost and hopeless he believed himself to be, despite quickly proving himself to be one of the more remarkable being you'd ever encountered.
"Come with me. Three days from now it won't matter what we do or don't know. It'll be a fresh start. Wanna?"
"But I-"
"Bo, yes or no. That's all you need to say." You smiled, leaning in closer toward his chair as he shifted there. The man you'd been shortly but intensely fascinated with started to nod, like he was winding up to answer for real.
"Yes. I'll go with you." Bo smiled and it was grin so stunning, it could've knocked you dead.
"I could use the company." You called back, making the both of you chuckle.
"Me too." Bo said. You soon gathered your drink and book, and let Bo promise he'd meet you poolside in three days' time. This new start just became all the more exciting.
You work with George in a theatre company, but he doesn’t let you walk home alone in the middle of the night and you have to stay over at his place
Word count: 1105 words
I’ll take you home. Was his final decision. You lived too far from the theatre company, but still, he wouldn’t let you go alone all the way. It was all so unintentional, so convenient, so when he said those words your heart skipped a beat and an immediate yes came out of your mouth. Don’t be so stupid, you told yourself a moment later. You had been working with him for months-- laughing with him daylily, him seeing you at your best and your worst. All for the sake of a good production, that to the point where you stayed behind with a couple of your co-workers to rehearse some extra hours, make the final arrangements. You didn’t notice it was three AM, what you also didn’t notice is that you sipped a bit too much on wine on the process. He did. He politely interrupted you, so consumed by work, and without asking, told you he was taking you home. You agreed. He knows that you live on the other side of London, and that you walk over to your flat; its how you feel the safest. Still, its three AM.
He helps you put your coat on, and you begin to walk. He doesn’t talk much, you notice that he is looking for what to say. You don’t say anything, feeling a bit tipsy and not wanting to spoil it.
“Are you sure you want to go all the way there?” you ask him as you feel tiny raindrops on your scalp.
“Of course,” he answers with a smile. That smile. No matter what he does, when he smiles, however slightly, his eyes lighten up and there are small wrinkles that are formed around them. He is older than you, but those wrinkles are only found in people who smile all the time. You give him a goofy smile in return. Oh please, don’t let me be this tipsy.
Distracted by him, you almost slip, but he gets a hold of you, pulling you towards him. You both laugh, but you can feel the heat rising up your cheeks as you notice the lack of space between you.
“You alright?” he asks as you stare into the endless blue of his eyes
“Shit, I think its going to pour,” you comment, separating yourself from him. Y/N why are you like this? Don’t ruin it! your inner voice says, but you know you have to be professional with him.
“Ummm, I don’t have an umbrella with me and I don’t think you have one with you. I don’t think sending you off in a cabbie would be the best. Don’t you think its more convenient if you spent the night in my flat?”
“Your house?” you blurt out, “DO I LOOK THAT DRUNK?!”. He laughs, perhaps too much.
“No, not at all.” He pauses to smile, “Well maybe a little, but to be honest I feel a bit tipsy myself, plus its a block away. If you wouldn’t mind.”
You agree to it. Wait, YOU DO WHAT?!
You stay silent the rest of the way, unsure of what to say. Your heart is pounding in your chest, there are too many things at play. As you arrive, he opens the door for you, and helps you up the staircase. Going out to the cold being tipsy was definitely not a good idea.
“What do you think?” he asks. Surprisingly, his flat is very normal. Pretty, organised, aesthetic, but normal. You would have thought that a person like him, would reflect his personality in his decoration, but at the same time it was humble, just like him.
“I like it very much,” you tell him, all honesty.
From then on, he doesn’t leave you alone. Offering you a meal, an oversized t-shirt for you to sleep in, finding a Clinique makeup remover for you. Claiming that he did not get it from a woman, but that it is his own personal makeup remover he uses when he is curious. You believing him and laughing at his justification, given that he did not need one. Him pouring both of you a glass of wine, you telling him that it had been a while since you had a sleepover.
“Well its been a while since I have had to sleep in a couch in my own home,” he laughs. You tell him how he doesn’t have to, how you can take the couch. He insists that you sleep on the bed, you insist he shouldn’t sleep in the couch. He asks where then he should sleep.
“The bed of course,” you reply without thinking it twice.
He raises an eyebrow. Shit shit shit shit. Y/N, you have outdone yourself.
“You little flirt,” he smiles daringly.
“Who, me?” you ask, getting closer.
“Yes, you,” he answers as he puts his hand on your back, and takes a step forward.
“Is that so?” you challenge further, feeling his shortness of breath being that close he is.
“I do believe it is,” he says in almost a whisper.
He leans in, and you don’t think twice. You put your lips on his.
You look at him as you pull away, a millisecond, just to measure the damage done. He smiles at you and shakes his head, “why do you do this to me, Y/N, consume me like this?”
He kisses you again, gently, but gentle is not enough. Theres a fire inside you both that you have not ignited. You search for him with your hands, your tongue, and he meets you with his. He kisses your neck, and you let him. You take the t-shirt he has given you and tug it upwards so lightly so he understands. He looks into your eyes, looking for a wordless ‘yes’ he needs to hear. He carries you, he lays you down. He kisses every inch of you as you call out his name. He answers with kisses and touch. George, why do you consume me like this, you want to ask, until he does. Air leaves you, you forget your own name, until he says it over and over as if it were some sacred chant. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N”, he says in a song, in prayer, in awe.
You wake up to your head in his chest, your hand close to his. Both of you perfectly still, both of you afraid to break the spell, charm, and curse you have cast upon yourselves. You close your eyes again, focusing on his heartbeat, only to have them open when he whispers, “morning, love”
pairing: bodevan cash x reader
genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst, A tiny bit of Smut
summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues.
word count: 4.7k
a/n: I think you will love this. I loved writing this so, so much. This is the final chapert, BUT we still have the Epilogue to come. I’m opening a vote for my new story, if you want a Ned Kelly AU pls comment a 🥵below and if you want a George Mackay GossipGirl AU comment a 🤭.
❝the sea, the majestic sea, breaks everything, crushes everything, cleans everything, takes everything...from me.❞
― corinne bailey rae
THREE
ｅｉｇｈｔｅｅｎ ｄａｙｓ
◄ ｐｒｅｖ
Being completely, utterly honest, you were one of those doctors who suffered the hidden pleasure of actually enjoying Grey's Anatomy. Guilty as charged. Not ony our life, you've understood the guilt some of the characters experienced —Meredith, per se—when a phone buzzed loudly, the name of the person they were supposed to be committed to flashing on the screen, while they were trapped in dreamland and in the arms of someone else.
Empathy crawled over you, though, the thirteenth morning in Namibia. Over the bedside table, your phone spun over the fake wood as the ringtone chosen and reserved for Ethan and only Ethan, sneaked into your dream, grabbed you by the toes, and its claws were so sharp that on their attempt to drag you out, you jolted awake.
However, you weren't able to sit up all sweaty and scared. You tried to, but you were unable. The limbs in your body felt extremely stiff, heavy, and the source triggered the alarm system inside you. Someone's strong, perfect arms were resting tightly around your waist. Said someone, muffled and whined when you carefully freed your body and sat up, every inch of skin flushed red.
As things go, conveniently enough, it was almost midday, and you've slept curled up against Bodevan's frame. With the head buried on his chest, his arms encircling your waist, your legs mingled together... the entire flipping night.
Great. Just great.
The worst thing is —and it is shameful to admit, you must confess— the reason why you decided to answer Ethan's call that morning, was the fact that the longer your phone rang, the most possible it would wake Bo up. And firstly, you enjoyed the view too much to give it up. Secondly, the last thing you wanted was Bodevan to realise your fiancée had called.
By mere instinct, while you murmured a groggy Hello! to the speaker, your eyes travelled their usual route towards the exquisite engagement ring residing on your index finger. Then, right then, hell broke loose. Because there, right there, was none ring to be found.
Your eyes went wide, wild, and almost jumped out of your face when frantically, you introspected between the covers, underneath the carpet, across the floor only to be met with no sign of it.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
"Hey baby," Ethan's voice was sleepy, deep, and the obliviousness on it made your eyes water. "Did I wake you up, sleepyhead?"
Yes, he did, and your head is killing you.
How many drinks did you share with Bodevan last night?
How many bottles?
How on earth did you lose your engagement ring?!
"Yeah... It was a long night".
"Hospital emergency?" He pressed on, "You forgot to call me. I waited."
"Sorry, E," The apology means so much more, it quivers as you speak. "I was at the birthday party I mentioned before."
Bo rustled in the sheets beside you. Your voice must have woken him up.
The laughter at the other side of the phone, robbed back your attention, "Completely zoom out on that. How was it?".
"Fun, I guess..."
"So it was crap?"
"Yeah," you lied. More so, you didn't lie entirely. It was crap that you lost your ring, and it was crap that you snuggled all night with a boy who is not the one you're going to marry —and it was crap that if you're completely honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit about it. Because you were certain, almost certain, you have fallen in love with another man.
As in, with the man in front of you with wild pillow hair and piercing blue eyes.
With Bodevan Cash.
This was madness. Africa induced madness! Surely, this infatuation was a result of the miles-away syndrome. You haven't seen your fiancée in two weeks, and you have spent the majority of your days in the company of the uniquely weird boy.
But what if... what if the loss of your ring was destiny talking? Perhaps it was written in the stars that the sapphire engraved item wasn't supposed to be wrapped around your finger.
Fate or not, you needed to find it. You couldn't just give up on it and on Ethan. It wasn't fair, and you weren't that kind of girl.
In such wise, you cut the conversation short and hurriedly hung up the phone. Ethan believed your excuse: you slept in, and you needed to rush to the hospital for your rounds.
After you were enchanted by the fact that under a morning sky, Bo's eyes really did match, and you giggled and blushed over breakfast with him —you didn't share pancakes, you wouldn't do that to Ethan. The meal of choice was waffles and sweet but dark coffee—you two embarked on the exhausting search for the ring.
The starting point was the clinic, under the patient's cot. Then you searched across the beach, digging in the sand as if you were looking for seashells. You searched all over your cabin, in between the sheets, under the bed, inside the drawers...On day fourteen, you and Peera turned the teepee upside down, pushing furniture to the corners, emptying the shelves, to no avail. On day fifteen, you asked the hotel plumber to dismantle your sink, in case in your drunken state you'd washed your hands and didn't notice it going down the drain. On day sixteen, you gave up the pursuit. On day seventeen, you came to terms with it and gathered enough courage to break the news to Ethan.
Today, on day eighteen, you are ready. Or at least, you think you are. Bodevan will be here soon, like every day around 9pm to strum some chords on his acoustic guitar and then play that silly game you invented a week ago where either of you would close their eyes, while the other wrote medical terms onto your skin. Whoever wins, gets to choose dinner —and breakfast, because weirdly enough, Bo has been staying the nights. And he always wins.
Holding yourself, in seek of steadiness, you dial Ethan's number. The rain has increased, and you wish upon the stars it delays Bodevan's arrival.
Ethan picks up almost immediately, "Hello, you. I'm on my lunch break, so you're on luck today."
Here it comes. No filter.
"I lost the ring."
"What ring?" He's chewing something, an apple you presume. Ethan loves apples.
"The engagement ring."
"You did what?" He is not screaming, but his voice is sharp, and it cuts right through you.
"I-I lost it. It fell off the night of Danny's birthday party."
"I see." You know what it's about to come, you recognise the tone on his voice as the one he employs when he's aiming to hurt. "You lost your engagement ring the day you got wasted while partying with that excuse of a doctor you're working for."
"I was not-", you hurry, "I mean I didn't..."
"Of course, you did. I know you. I know your hangover voice, and I'm not a fucking idiot."
"Ethan, I-"
"Will you cut the bullshit?" he intervenes, "This is your revenge from what happened with Harper. I understand."
Your mouth falls open, at a loss for words, "Are you implying that I lost your ring on purpose, to get back at you?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Rage curls in your stomach, "Wow. Real nice, Ethan. You really don't know me at all."
Ethan laughs. He fucking laughs. "I'm saying this because I know you." None of you talks for a minute, and then he breaks the silence, "I'll change your flight for tonight."
"No," calmly, you answer. "I'm not leaving until I find that stupid ring."
"Come on, you're never going to find it." Ethan sighs, evidently done dealing with your stupidity. "I will just buy you a new one."
"I don't want a new one," you say, still calm. You've been pacing back and forth concerning the decision you're about to make. Finally, you've made up your mind, and it's clearly the right choice. "I don't want an engagement ring, Ethan." The rest of the sentence goes quietly, "I-I don't want this marriage."
He sighs again, and you can picture him resting his fingertips between his eyebrows, tired of dealing with you and your feelings. Ethan has always been a cold man, and for a while, you thought the only person he was warm to was you. Such a fool. "Is this your way of saying you're still upset over my previous marriage?" asks Ethan. "Because you said you were fine, but I knew this would happen—"
"It's not just that," you confess, in part, you haven't get over it yet and eighteen days in Namibia haven't bought you enough time to do it.
"What are you saying?"
Your heart grows heavy. You hate this. But you have to do it.
"I can't marry you, E. I'm sorry. But I-I can't promise away my entire life with someone when I'm not even sure how I want to live it," you confess, voice breaking.
"Fallen out of love with me already, huh?" he questions, the pain sewed to his words, further breaking your heart.
"I love you. I'm just—It's been hard, this whole thing... we being liers, you being married, me being here..." You don't dare to say his name, but you think it. Bodevan. "I don't know what I'm supposed to know, but at least at this exact moment, I'm sure I can't marry you."
"Alright," comes the response, always calm, always composed. "Let's take a break. We'll talk when you're back."
"Ethan—"
"I'm hanging up now."
Before you could retort, he hangs up. You feel a strange sense of relief, even though something inside you broke with the knowledge of what you'd just done.
It isn't entirely over, you're aware. You still have to go back, and you have to face him, and return gifts, and send apology letters to the guests. But the confession is off your chest. You didn't want to lie to him anymore.
As you let out a deep, heavy sigh, you glance back and notice that right at the doorframe, stands your very own sun. Now you understand why it's raining and cloudy; sunlight is trapped in your cabin. Bodavan witnessed everything, and he is watching you, warily.
Plastering a smile on your face, you greet, "Hi."
He rubs the back of his neck. "I would ask if everything is okay, but clearly…"
Shaking your head, you explain, "It had to be done. I can't do this anymore. Pretend as if I love him like he loves me and spend the rest of my life with him. It's not fair to him, or to me."
Bodevan says nothing. For the first time in days, he looks incredibly flustered, ocean eyes avoiding any sort of contact with you. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but then he steals the words away.
"I apologise," he blurts. "It was inappropriate for me to spend so much time with you, and even worse t-to fall asleep with you in the same bed."
Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, shame. More so, hurt. "What are you saying? All of that was my choice, you didn't force me into anything. Wh-why are you apologising?"
"Because I have this... feeling that whatever just happened," Bo hurries his gaze away from you. "H-Happened because of me."
If there was a hole in the middle of your room, you would crawl inside and dig your way back to New York.
"It had nothing to do with you," you half-lie. "Nothing even happened between us," you snap, coming off rougher than you'd expected.
"Right," he murmurs, looking away. You can't fathom why the look on his face manages to break your heart more than cancelling your engagement had. "Let's play something then. W-Whats your favourite song?"
"Sweet Child O' Mine."
He smiles, "That's my mother's as well."
Bodevan shrugs off his wet jacket. He clears his throat and sits on the edge of your mattress, guitar resting on his lap. You hear the soft sound of his voice singing a much slower version of the song, and suddenly, you feel at peace. Absent-mindedly, you pick up Bo's signature mustard jacket, draping it over a loveseat so it can dry. Right off the bat, something silver and sparkling drops to the ground.
You gape. Lying there, on the floor, is your engagement ring. Looking undamaged and pristine. A smile would have curved your lips if it hadn't unmistakably fallen from Bodevans's jacket.
When you crouch down to pick it up, your mind begins to spin. Since when does Bo have it? Had he had it all along? Or had he found it and not told you?
The mere train of thoughts makes you sick to the stomach. You clutch the ring in your fist.
When Bo strums the last chords of the song, and his soft voice comes undone in a whisper, he looks up to find you standing there, features betraying the long lost smile.
You stare out at the bay, avoiding the gaze he refuses to haul away from you. His eyes are deep blue, as wild as the waves crashing the shoreline. Confusion is evident on his face, brows curved in the sense of bewilderment. Right now, Bodevan is a doctor, trying to diagnose your symptoms, and figure out what shifted inside you that has you bracing yourself against the biting gale off the water. And him.
You tug the yellow montgomery closer, but it is no use. Only one thing could warm you tonight, and he is out of reach. You miss the way he fills the circle of his arms with your body, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head —it should be an Anatomy case of interest, it seems to be customed as the perfect resting spot for his lips. But it is a good thing Ethan isn't here now. What he'd find out would leave a bruise on Bodevan's face, and it would be the last hit to turn you into pieces.
Bo's eyes drop to his jacket, your fist clenched around the fabric, and his face falls. Dr Cash found the disease, and it pains him, of course, it pains him. He just figured out, the source of your lack of well-being, is him.
"You know," he states, careful. The astonishment in his voice doesn't surprise you, yet you can't explain to yourself why it stings so much. You’re trying your hardest to stay calm. But a lump has formed in your throat, your stomach has turned into a thousand knots, and you can feel the tears building up inside your eyes.
"Why?" It is pathetic, really, how your voice breaks amidst a one-word sentence. The tears are free now, streaming down your cheeks. "I know it wasn't for the money. Unless you've fooled me on your Maoist shit as well."
"A fighter for the rights of poor farmers and landless labourers, seeking to overthrow the state and usher in a classless society? I am."
"Then, why did you do this?"
Bodevan looks away, clearly weighing his options. It takes him a second, and then he is down on his knees, staring up at you with big ocean eyes, and your legs turn to jelly.
"I know what you think, but I didn't do this to hurt you," he grabs your hand, and you feel his fingerpads as though they were burning through my skin. He takes your palm in his own, urging to open up your fist. "You have broadened my mind, you've helped me grow. The way you've opened me up —you've penetrated deep inside me. Like if you had cut me open in the operating table and filled my insides with you. And I know I penetrated deep, deep inside of you—" he stutters, with eyes still wide. If you weren't as mad at him, you would find the pink streak across his cheeks adorable, and you would find inside you the box of tenderness reserved just for Bo and his peculiar self. But Bodevan made sure to close that box, cover it in tape, and carry it all the way down to the basement in your heart. "Not, not like that. I-I would love to... o-one d..."
"Bodevan..."
"I did it because I am an idiot," he blurts out. "I'm an idiot for you. I-If you'll have me." Right on cue, you watch him suck in his breath, wishing to take back his confession. Clear as water, you can see the progression of his emotions settle in the crease between his eyes. Bo feels impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by his own forwardness. He always does this, too many times before.
"No," you whisper, remembering...always remembering... Ethan. Bodevan's lies. "I don't want to talk to you, and if you care for me at all, you won't say another word."
His ocean eyes drill into you. Bo steps back and crosses his arms over his broad chest —God, you'll miss watching his yoga routine in the morning. But this is his fault.
For a few seconds, he looks at you strangely, wondering whether to concede. You stand for a moment, gathering energy, it's stupid, but it is taking all of you to walk away from this misunderstood unique boy. But is time to let your feet drag you out of this air-consuming cabin, away from Bodevan Cash and his perfect long hair. Back ashore.
The moment you storm out, rain drains all over you. It soaks you in a matter of seconds, but you don't care, you really don't care at all. You're angry and upset and feel as if you're adrift in the middle of the ocean, with thunders in the horizon and strong winds moving your ship from side to side, without giving you a rest.
Bodevan chases after you. Ever so careful, he clasps his big calloused hand, around your waist and guides you to meet his eyes. It's puzzling, he has never done such thing, on the contrary, his gaze is always playing hide and seek with you.
"I didn't tell you because every time your anatomy appears in from of me, I run out of methodology," he says frustratedly. "Because this love no longer understand of reasons or advice and it feeds on pretexts, and it lacks pants."
With shaking hands, almost without noticing, you let the ring fall to the sand. "T-This love?" you ask quietly.
Bodevan doesn't let go of your wrist. His lids are squeezed shut. "I'm sorry. You have every right to never talk to me again."
"You didn't answer the question. Do you love me?" you ask again, heart hammering in your chest.
"By all means," he confesses, chest rising and falling. "I-I'm an idiot who somehow fell in love with you without realising it."
Dizziness overwhelms you. You share the same suffering than Bo. This love doesn't allow you to stand, it has broken your heels. Even if you get up, you'll fall again into it. Even if he hid the ring, you're still in love with him. Even if Ethan returns, you would still be in love with Bodevan.
You've transformed into a thing that does nothing but love him —fool, blind, deaf, brute. Bodevan Cash rules your thoughts day and night, withal how many times you've tried to bury him in your memory, you haven't figure out a way to forget him.
If you could exorcise yourself from his voice.
If you could escape his name.
If you could rip your heart out and hide, so you don't feel ever again.
Maybe then, you would be able to stop loving him.
"I'm stupid, you know? I always want the things I can't have" Bodevan stutters. "And now I've ruined everything."
Your thumb brushes against his cheek, "You haven't ruin anything."
Taking him by surprise, you untangle his grip from your waist and bring his hand to your waistline. His figure grows very still as you pierce through his blue gaze, his pupils nervous. "I gift you my waist," you whisper softly, pink mouth close to his bruised one. "And my lips, for whenever you want to kiss."
Both of you, nervous as hell, can't believe the promises that are rolling off your tongue.
"I give you my delusion," you giggle. "And the few neurons I have left."
Bo doesn't react and says nothing for a bit. It frightens you, but you find comfort in the fact he hasn't pull away from you. And then, he hums, "I gift you my silence."
You want to cry, of pure and golden happiness. Bodevan leans closer, resting the damaged skin of his perfect lips at the tip of your nose. And you say, "I gift you my nose too."
"I give you my bones, even," Bo interjects, voice deeper, rough. He is breathing heavily, forehead pressed to yours, and your mind flashes back to the first day you met him, and how you have been like this, near the sea. "But don't run away from me anymore."
Bodevan lands his lips into yours. Responsive, you entangle your hands in his damp locks, luring him closer to your body. His lips are igniting fire down your spine, and you discern now why he is your sun, and why his eyes are like the morning sky.
Dramatically out of character, he doesn't hesitate when you reach down to pull his shirt up and off his body, your small, cold hands resting on his toned, flipping fantastic chest. The rain continues, yet, neither doubts to turn your clothes into a wet pile dangerously close to the seaside. Bo lowers you onto the sand, kissing patterns into every inch of skin he encounters, tracing the entire shape of your body. Never in your life, have you felt this alive. Every part of you burns under his touch and his eyes, and you don't fear to be consumed by the fire.
Eyelids screw shut when you hear yourself gasp. Your bodies have entwined, and you hold him close, closer as you ever embraced someone, his minty breath misting your ears as he whispers your name.
"Bo..." lazily, you flutter open your eyelashes and watch him in adoration. His jaw is clenched in concentration; his hard muscles contract and pull on top of you. Bodevan brushes your cheekbone with his fingers and kisses you twice before burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath is staggering, hot and wild.
Bringing his face to yours, he opens his eyes, "You once asked what I loved most in the world..." You did. He answered, his siblings. "I lied. It's you."
As you smile, you recognise you're equally a liar. When he asked the question back, your answer was medicine. But it is him. It really is him.
The following morning, you wake up tangled in the sheets, a beam painting your face with pink shades as you remember why. Peacefully asleep and ever-so ethereal, Bodevan lies next to you.
Bo matches your smile as you kiss his cheek, your fingertips tracing the words you couldn't find yesterday, but the ones you're certain you feel. He's always been an expert, he always beats your ass, and you can tell he understands what you're writing with invisible ink across his back when he smiles, lids still closed. You love him, and although you can't vociferate it, you want him to know it.
Bo pulls you into his arms, "I'll wait for you. You have my words" he rustles. "But you need to go back to Manhattan. You need to go sort out if you really want a life in the middle of nowhere, with me.
"I do."
"You don't," he intervenes. "You have been here too many days, now everything is blurry. My dad, he—He never asked my mom if she still wanted the life she was living. And she killed herself." Tears run down both your faces, no matter how hard you're trying to stop them. "I would never do that to you."
You nod, "Alright."
Bo wipes your tears away with his thumb, "I will miss you."
"I will miss you too," you choke. "So much."
With one last look back at the boy with morning-sky coloured eyes, you step into the departures gate, taking a shaky breath as Bodevan waves goodbye. An ocean will be between you, and your heart drowns the entire flight home.
He does make mistakes—he’s rigid sometimes. I like those contradictions, that he preaches one thing but at the end, he’s kind of like a benevolent dictator. What’s beautiful in the story is that he does eventually realize it, and he does try in his way to do something about it, which is commendable. -Viggo Mortensen
