the wave that thought itself a man

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ 🌊 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆

i. lungs full of salt, lungs full of god

the first time he meets bodhigravity like myth, johnnylost before he knew it thinks:

this is the kind of man who walks out of fire holding the sea in his hands,

who says things like ride the energy of the wave and means it like scripture.

he says it to offer a secret—

to resurrection.

he is the kind of man who does not pray, because he already lives in the answer.

there are no sins in the ocean, only undertows.

johnny utah: a name that clangs like a football trophy down an empty locker room.

johnny utah: who once ran toward noise because it sounded like destiny.

johnny utah: who now stands silent in the foam,

salt in his lashes, knees bent to a board he doesn't yet believe in.

and bodhi—bodhi lures.

a gravity like myth, a mouth like a tidepool where starfish philosophies lie waiting.

johnny thinks he's undercover.

bodhi knows he's just lost.

ii. the body remembers what the mind denies

some nights, bodhi's laugh is a breaking wave in johnny's ribcage.

some nights, johnny watches the sea to remember how to breathe.

they share joints like confessions,

lick tequila off calloused thumbs,

read the moon like a clock only they can decipher.

the others don't notice how often johnny watches bodhi

with something heavier than suspicion.

or maybe they do.

maybe the ocean notices everything.

maybe the sea is not just a backdrop but a mirrorreflecting the truth

that reflects what they pretend not to say.

johnny never touches him the way he wants to.

not until it's too late.

not until the bank masks come on and the lines blur—

who is hunter, who is hunted,

who fell first and who forgot the parachute.

they jump out of planes like it's easier than saying i want you.

they leap into each other's gravity

without ever naming it love

iii. the wave as a lover, the crash as a promise

if bodhi is the wave, johnny is the rock that dares to stand still.

and yet: every rock was once sand, and every sand wants to be pulled again.

johnny is erosion in reverse.

bodhi touches him like the sea touches shore—

again and again and again.

not to claim. nor to conquer.

just to prove presence. to shape him.

when they fight, it's not about the banks.

it's about the lie between them:

that johnny ever thought he could arrest something like windyou can't cage the sky.

that bodhi ever thought freedom meant leaving everything behindfreedom is connection.

they are men who mistake pain for proof.

they are men who kiss with their teeth still clenched.

they are men who write devotion in bruises.

johnny calls it duty.

bodhi calls it becoming.

the ocean calls it inevitable.

iv. in the fall, all things become true

the jump is never about adrenaline.

the jump is about trust.

johnny counts heartbeats between blinks.

bodhi counts seconds like prayers.

they fall together like gods pretending to be men.

like boys who dared each other to fly.

like lovers who only know each other in the context of endings.

when bodhi vanishes into the wavebecoming what he always was,

johnny does not scream.

he understands.

he was never meant to keep him.

only to witness.

love, bodhi once said, is not possession.

it's permission.

permission to let go.

permission to be consumed.

johnny gives him that.

without badge, without mask,

without anything but the ache in his chest

and the sea in his bones.

v. the sea does not mourn. it remembers.

years later, johnny walks the beach barefoot.

he doesn't surf anymore.

he listens.

bodhi is in the hush before the crest.

bodhi is in the pull of every tide.

bodhi is in the absence that still aches like a phantom limb.

they say the wave took him.

but johnny knows better.

the wave became him.

and bodhi, reckless prophet of salt and skin,

finally rode something larger than love.

johnny lets the ocean reach him now.

lets it kiss his knees and drag his secrets into the foam.

he whispers things to it.

not forgiveness. not regret.

just memory. just tide. just this:

you were real.

you were mine.

you were the breath between falling and flying.

and when the sea pulls back,

it does not take johnny with it.

it leaves him standing,

dripping with everything bodhi ever meant.

[and somewhere, beneath the tide, a wave breaks, again and again,

saying: i loved you. i let you.]

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ 🌊 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆