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If he'd figured it out sooner, Bode muses, staring hollowly down at the mess of petals he's just hacked up from his battered lungs, he probably would have done things differently.
They're pretty, the flowers. Crumpled and wet with blood and salvia and practically falling apart with the force of which he's choking on them now as they come up, but they're still beautiful.
Blue.
He doesn't know what kind they are. It's possible Cal might not even know, since undoubtedly the record of the planet he came to the Temple from is long gone as is whichever Seeker found him. And anyway, until now, he's only coughed up the petals and the occasional leaf, not the whole blossom, so it's not as if he could have really narrowed down the search at all in morbid curiosity himself.
Bode breathes in shallowly, trying not to disturb the rest of the garden growing in his lungs by either inhaling too deep or letting his tired mind think too deeply about the origin of the flower smeared on the ground.
It'd just been a tickle in his chest at first. An odd bug he'd thought he'd picked up or a reaction to something in the air on Koboh. A coincidence.
By the time he'd started coughing up little flecks of incomplete, tiny blue petals, delicate and foreign and so bright compared to the dusty landscape of Jedha, he knew he'd already fucked himself over completely.
Bode had seen Cal looking at Merrin.
He'd seen Merrin looking too, when Cal wasn't.
And Bode— he'd gone and done the right thing for once, instead of the selfish thing, and he'd encouraged Cal to shoot his shot with the Nightsister. And he had.
Bode knew he did before Cal could tell him, because when Cal came back with her later to the Archives, hand in hand, he'd already spent the last two hours choking on petals quietly in his room so none of the Anchorites would hear him. Enough time to clear out all the sudden growth so he could clap his hand on Cal's shoulder and give him an easygoing smile without seeming out of breath.
Because of course whatever flower is taking root inside him with this unrequited love is something that springs up quick— resilient, persistent, just like Cal. He wouldn't be surprised to find out whatever planet Cal hails from considers the flower a menace of a weed to be pruned quickly or doused with chemicals to kill it before it spreads too far with how easily it recovers.
If he'd known before that moment… before Bode realized he was probably going to die because of Cal Kestis, he might have been a worse man and done something about it. Told him, at least. Kissed him, even. But he hadn't connected the dots until he'd coughed up that damning bit of blue and stared at it with a mix of horror and wonder, and by then Cal and Merrin were already sneaking inconspicuous glances at each other from across the room.
Cal looks gorgeous, in love. It softens all his rough edges, makes his mouth quirk into ever more frequent smiles that pull at the scar in his lower lip, the one Bode can't think too hard about or he'll start to taste sweet pollen on the back of his tongue when he breathes. He's lighter with it for all Bode gets heavier, choked out by the feelings that are determined to bury their roots and flourish.
He can't even be upset about it. It's his own fault for giving Cal that little push towards her.
But when the petals he chokes on are larger, no longer tiny blossoms he can counter with smothering them out with the death sticks he suddenly favors— a convenient vice that helps cover his violent coughing spells —he figures he needs to get his affairs in order, for Kata's sake.
So; Tanalorr.
Except Cal breaks his heart there once they get that compass, too. He's a fool, the man he loves, wanting to save everyone, wanting to fight the Empire, putting his family at risk for the sake of strangers. Bode knows Cal won't listen to him on this, no matter how he tries to press him into making the only sane choice in this fucked up galaxy. Cal is simply too determined to be good.
No, people like Cal, idealists that the galaxy hasn't broken yet, they aren't the type to be convinced by words.
They need a demonstration of why you can't just trust other people.
It's for the best, Bode tells himself, as he looks Cordova in the eyes as he shoots him point-blank. It'll save Cal in the long run, he knows.
Every time Cal calls his name as he chases him, hurt and rage in his voice, Bode tastes blood on his breath. By the time he gets to his ship after their fight in Jedha's sands, he's unable to take a full inhalation without a sharp stabbing pain and for the first time he wonders if those flowers have thorns he hasn't met yet.
He hopes to get to Tanalorr before Cal catches up. He doesn't.
It's surprisingly difficult to run with the lack of space left in his lungs. Maybe it's that he has to carry Kata as well. Maybe it's the root that managed to break through his skin sometime between Jedha and arriving at the station, thin and spidery. Maybe it's the way it's not just blood he tastes anymore when Cal calls his name, but sweetness too, fragrant and cloying.
There's nowhere to put the flower petals he coughs up in his ship. Kata stares at him with wide eyes and tries to offer him up the little bottle of water she packed in her bag and Bode pets her hair and lies that he's fine.
The man he loves hates him. Bode doesn't know if that's speeding things up, but he doubts it's helping him. That's fine though. He doubts Cal will be too far behind him as he makes his way through the abyss. Two days, three at the most.
When they land is when he gets that first full blossom, spilled out on the ground of Tanalorr.
He's coughed up twelve more since, each bloodier than the last. Bode wonders if the flowers will thrive here on Tanalorr as much as they have inside of him, when he's dead. If he'll last long enough that Cal will get to kill him in person or if he'll be stuck wheezing away his last hours, hoping for a glimpse of Cal’s face.
At least Cal will take care of Kata either way. He won't be foolish enough to trust as easily— Bode chokes a little at the thought of how deeply he's hurt him — and he and Kata won't be killed or worse by some other ISB agent, after this. Cal won't make the same mistake twice. He'll protect the people he loves first and foremost, just like Bode has. No matter what the cost.