#bodhirookweek2017

Behind him, Baze cut short whatever he was saying to Chirrut, silence suddenly flooding the room. Cassian glanced up at him quickly, then back down at the projector.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Bodhi. I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before. Besides, we have people on base that will do that for you.”

His words were said kindly; he couldn’t know how they cut through Bodhi’s heart. He took a breath, giving it one last desperate attempt.

“No, Cassian. I – I want you to do it. Please. It’s – it’s hard to explain.”

From behind him, Baze suddenly spoke up, his voice gruff. “Jedhan’s don’t let strangers touch their hair.”

That was true, though not the full extent of it. Bodhi wasn’t sure if Baze was protecting him or not, giving such a simple explanation for something that was woven through his whole being. He could recall with intimate detail, his mother’s hands in his hair, her gentle voice telling him story after story. She’d called his hair his crown of glory, regarded every inch of it as precious and dear. You didn’t touch anyone’s hair without their permission. It was the essence of them, their soul for the world to see.

Some chose to keep it hidden, to share only with their family, their lovers. Some had intricate designs braided into it, love and care wrapped around every strand, a testament written by the loved one that had been offered the privilege.

He’d spent weeks in the med bay, breath held in his throat every time some well-meaning nurse had washed his hair, gritting his teeth against the foreign touch. Reminding himself that they didn’t know, that it was meant as a kindness. He hadn’t realized how much it was bothering him until he was finally released from medical, finally allowed to wash his own hair in the privacy of his own room.

Now he needed it cut, to grieve for Jedha, for Tonc and Melshi and all the lives that had been lost so he could live. For Alderaan, snuffed out in the blink of an eye. For Galen, who’d started this all.

Cassian was watching him. He wondered how long he’d been standing there, lost in his own thoughts. He held out the scissors clenched in his hand.

“Please, Cassian. I want you to be the one to do this.”

Cassian stood up, taking the scissors from Bodhi’s hand.

“Well, if it means that much to you…”

Bodhi nodded, his eyes closing in relief.

“It does. And thank you.”

———-

They went into the ‘fresher tucked into the corner of the common room, Cassian carrying a stool that he placed in front of the sink so Bodhi could sit and see his face reflected back in the mirror. He smiled nervously at Cassian’s reflection, watching as Cassian looked at the hair falling over his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to cut it? You have such lovely hair, Bodhi.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, slowly spreading outward until he felt his cheeks heating up. He cleared his throat against the emotion crowding there.

“I’m sure. It – It’s something we do – we did, on Jedha. When someone dies, you cut your hair. To honor them. It’s – it’s important.”

Cassian drew his lower lip between his teeth, nodding slightly.

“Okay, how much should I cut then?”

Bodhi closed his eyes.

“All of it.”

———-

Cassian worked slowly and carefully, running his fingers through Bodhi’s hair, gently working through any tangles he found until it lay sleek and straight down his back. He raised the scissors up, then glanced up at the mirror, catching Bodhi’s eyes.

“You’re sure?”

Bodhi smiled, just a soft twitch at the corners of his mouth. Thought of his mother’s sad eyes when his father had died, the feel of her thick hair falling to the ground.

“I’m sure.”

He closed his eyes as Cassian made the first cut. Made himself remember every name of every person that he had known on Jedha. Prayed that they were together, that they forgave him, that the Force held them and let them see the future, the hope that they’d died for.

———-

Cassian was grasping his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Bodhi, I’ve finished. Take a look.”

He opened his eyes slowly, letting them readjust to the light from being closed for so long. Cassian backed away, bending down to sweep the shorn hair into a pile with his hands.

The reflection was familiar, but foreign at the same time – a stranger with his eyes. Bodhi reached up to touch, ran his fingers up the back of his neck and forward. His head felt so light now and he wondered if that was the true reason behind the ritual, to shed the weight and guilt of what was lost. He smiled at his reflection, some past memory suddenly brought back.

“Oh. I look like my father.”

Cassian made a soft noise of distress, his hands coming up to rest on Bodhi’s shoulders again. His head dipped down, his forehead pressed against the nape of Bodhi’s neck.

“I feel like this means more than you’re telling me, Bodhi.”

Bodhi drew in a breath sharply, hyper aware of every place that Cassian was touching him, the warm moist breath against his neck, Cassian’s heart beating stutter stop against his back.

“I – it’s not. It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, Cass.”

“Bodhi, of course it does. I – I care about you. Kriff, I owe you my life. Please, just tell me. Why did it need to be me?”

Bodhi closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Cassian, not if he wanted to say it right, not if it wanted to say it at all.

“On Jedha, no one touches your hair, except your family. Or – or sometimes, the person that you’re closest to. The person you, you lo-.” Bodhi swallowed, clenching his jaw before continuing. “The person you love.”

Cassian stood up, letting go of Bodhi’s shoulders. The room was quiet, just the sound of the two of them breathing. Bodhi squeezed his eyes shut tighter, praying for the floor to open up and swallow him. He wasn’t going to cry, he’d promised himself that before. Then Cassian’s hands were on his cheeks, calloused and rough.

“Oh Bodhi. Bodhi open your eyes…”

Bodhi bit his lip, hands clenched over his knees tightly, and opened his eyes. Cassian was watching him, his face softer than Bodhi had ever seen it. He smiled, his eyes warm and bright.

“Bodhi, would you… would you cut my hair?”

Bodhi let out the breath he’d been holding, a soft laugh escaping. Hope and life bloomed in his chest. The future.

“Yes, Cassian. Of course.”

———-

The next morning in the mess hall, the room gets quiet when Bodhi enters. There are as many hairstyles as there are species on the rebel base, but for some reason it appears that more than a few have suddenly decided to cut their hair. As he walks past, they nod at him, whispering names of those they lost, for this person, for that person. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cassian’s there, wrapping him in a hug.

“They did it to thank you, because so many more would be gone without you.”