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Chris hangs up on him. Again. But not before Eddie catches the smug look on his mother’s face on the other side of the screen.
His gut twists with a combination of anger and bile as he snaps his laptop shut, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over even though he’s alone in his living room with no one there to see him cry.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Eddie is completely and utterly alone.
Chris won’t even engage on calls unless Buck is there, and even then, it’s rarely more than a few grunts of acknowledgement. Buck tries to be there as often as he can, but he has a life outside of this mess, and Eddie doesn’t want to destroy that as well. He’s told Buck on more than a few occasions that he needs to go out and live his life, and sometimes, like today, Buck actually listens. Perhaps a part of Eddie wishes that Buck would always vehemently deny this request and plant himself next to Eddie on the couch in solidarity, but that’s not fair to Buck and Eddie knows it. So he’s not mad. He’s just alone.
But Eddie really doesn’t want to be alone right now. If he’s alone, then he’ll start thinking, and nothing good has ever come from him thinking. So, Eddie texts Buck.
Eddie: do you want to hang out tonight?
Buck: sorry man, plans with Tommy
Buck: do you need me?
Yes.
Eddie: nah it’s fine. Have fun
Eddie: !
A few minutes pass before Buck responds.
Buck: You sure?
Eddie just likes the message.
Buck: Use your words or I won’t believe you
Eddie: Yes, I’m sure I want you to have fun
Buck: haha I’m laughing so hard
Buck: srsly Eddie
Eddie: srsly Buck
Eddie: I’m fine. Just wanted to see if you were free, it’s nbd
Buck: Okay call if you need anything tho. I promise I’ll pick up
Eddie likes the message, and this time Buck lets it drop.
Eddie collapses back onto the sofa. It’s only three o’clock and he’s got another forty hours before he’s back on shift and distracted. Another forty hours before he can focus on his job and his teammates instead of the shitstorm that is his personal life.
Over the course of the next two hours, Eddie gets twelve minutes into a movie, makes six peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, eats two of them, orders a stuffed rabbit off of Amazon, rearranges his cutlery drawer and then puts it back the way it was. Then he goes to the bathroom.
It’s that last thing that’s a mistake. Because the bathroom has a mirror, and Eddie sees himself in said mirror. And just like this morning, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before ever since the day that Christopher walked out the door, Eddie loathes what he sees.
Besides the crisis mustache, which is something all its own, Eddie looks exactly the same. Same eyes, same nose, same ears, same everything that he’s had for his entire life, but recently it feels like they’ve all been moved a microscopic amount, so slightly that anyone not actually inhabiting his body would never be able to tell, but Eddie knows that something in him has changed irrevocably and he fights the urge to punch the mirror and shatter the face looking back at him.
The only good thing about this feeling is that Eddie is absolutely certain that he hates himself for this more than his son ever could, and the thought is oddly comforting if not a bit disturbing.
Eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he instinctively pulls it out. It’s a video attachment from his mother. In it, she has both arms wrapped around Chris’ shoulders, looking positively giddy as he unwraps a box covered in orange birthday paper. Eddie chokes out a sob when he sees what it is. It’s the same gaming headset that, according to UPS, was delivered to Texas three days ago. The same one that he told his parents he’d bought months ago at Best Buy with Buck, before everything, when Chris was not-so-subtly dropping hints left and right. A spark of warmth pricks at his stomach when Chris’ eyes light up, and he smiles.
But then Eddie realizes.
The headset is the wrong color, and he doesn’t recognize that wrapping paper. That gift isn’t from him.
Eddie drops his phone like it burns and grips the edge of the sink, taking heaving breaths as he stares wide-eyed at his reflection. Finally, he squeezes his eyes shut, peeling his fingers off of the porcelain with every intention of retrieving his phone and calling Buck so he doesn’t have to be alone. That would be the healthy move.
But Buck is busy, and Eddie already told him that he was fine.
So instead, Eddie gives in, and he slams his fist into the mirror with a crack.
Sharp pain shoots through his knuckles and up his arm as blood trickles between his fingers. He lets out a sigh of relief as the shards sparkle in the sink and on the carpet.
Eddie grabs his phone from the floor and stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Eddie washes his hands calmly in the kitchen sink, the lemon soap stinging against the cuts on his hand. He picks out a few shards of glass, but the damage is surprisingly minimal. He can totally pretend he didn’t just do that. He can act like he took deep breaths and asked for support like he learned from Frank in therapy. Like he didn’t hit his bathroom mirror with a right hook. Eddie pretends for the next four hours. He eats another peanut butter sandwich out of the fridge, organizes his mugs by color, and finishes the movie he started. His phone flashes with a message from the 118 group chat, and he punches at the notification like it’s trying to prevent him from ordering a stuffed turtle from Amazon to keep the rabbit company.
He cries the whole time, actual tears running out during hour two.
Eddie wants Christopher to be here. Eddie wants Buck to be here.
Eddie wants Buck to charge through his front door, find him crying on the couch, and throw his arms around him. Eddie wants to bury his head in Buck’s shoulder and mourn what he’s lost. Eddie wants Buck’s hands to rub comforting circles on his back and his lips to kiss his hair and his temple and his lips and - oh.
It slams into him like a wall of summer rain. Shocking, all-encompassing, terrifying, but…warm. The kind of rain he wants to dance in, the kind that makes perfect puddles for jumping and pulls rainbows from the sky. It’s the kind of rain that Eddie thinks could drown him without him even noticing.
So maybe that’s why he’s struggling to breathe, now. What’s happening? Eddie doesn’t just want Buck to be here. Eddie wants Buck, completely, in every single way.
Eddie wants, and wants, and wants, but Eddie can’t have. That’s his punishment.
Oh fuck.
Eddie knows he has to live with this new, entirely mind-boggling reality, but he sure as hell doesn’t have to do it sober, which is why he finds himself driving to the first bar that pops up on his Google search, face slackened, no tears blurring his vision as he follows the GPS because he can no longer find the strength to cry.
At 10:15, Eddie plops himself down at the bar and orders a beer. When the woman returns with a bottle, he asks for a shot of vodka to go with it. He hates vodka, but that’s kind of the point.
He downs it with a grimace as soon as she places it in front of him. He tries to ignore something resembling a motherly concern that passes across her expression.
“You look sad,” a saccharine voice sings. “Can we buy you a drink?”
Eddie turns to find two women, probably mid-twenties, standing behind him.
“No thanks,” Eddie says.
“Oh, come on. We’ll do a shot with you!” The second woman pipes up. “What was that, tequila?”
“Vodka,” Eddie answers flatly.
“Great!” She continues, waving down Eddie’s bartender. “Excuse me, ma’am, three shots of vodka here. I’ll use this as a chaser.” The woman shakes her half-finished cocktail next to Eddie’s ear, and the sound of the ice cubes clanking around is what pushes him to the edge, despite the general loudness of the bar around him.
Still, Eddie accepts the drink and tosses it down his throat, gritting his teeth as it hits his stomach, the cheers of the women flanking him falling on deaf ears.
“Okay, so you really aren’t going to be any fun.”
Eddie just shrugs. “Nope, sorry,” he apologizes even though he really couldn't care less.
They leave him be, but not before they both fix him with pitying looks and flag down the other bartender to bring him a third shot.
Eddie takes it and actually chases this one with a remainder of his beer, the same bartender kindly dropping a fresh bottle in front of him.
Then he crosses his arms on the counter and drops his head into them.
He stays that way for at least two songs, maybe three, but they all sound so similar, so he can’t tell, and his head is too fuzzy to care. The sound of a glass clunking onto the bar top next to his head pulls his attention outward. There’s a cup of ice water sitting in front of him now, and the motherly bartender is looking at him with a soft expression.
“Honey, are you okay?”
Eddie notices for the first time that her voice has a twinge of southern drawl. He just sighs.
She nudges the water closer to him. “I’ve seen that look plenty of times in my day, so even if you don’t answer me, I know the answer is no.”
Her words sound so familiar, like they could be coming out of someone else’s mouth, a very specific someone else named Evan Buckley’s mouth, in fact. The thought rips through Eddie with a renewed wave of emotion, and he pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from crying out in public.
“Take a sip of water, hon, I’ll be right back, okay?”
Eddie obeys, but follows the water with another swig of beer.
True to her word, the bartender returns a few minutes later. “I’m Lanie,” she says.
“Eddie.”
“Nice to meet you, Eddie. I haven’t seen you here before.”
Eddie nods. “Don’t usually come here,” he admits.
“Why are you here today then, honey?” She asks.
The nickname feels gentle, if not a tad ironic considering the events of his most recent bee-addled shift.
“Eddie?” Lanie prompts again.
“Because I didn’t want to be at home,” he replies.
Lanie hums in response. “Would you have been alone? At home?”
Eddie has no idea what possesses him to answer honestly. “My son ran away,” he blurts. “It’s too quiet.”
Lanie’s eyes widen. “Oh. How old is your son?”
“He just turned thirteen. He had a party last weekend. In Texas. Today is his actual birthday. And I’m here.” Eddie feels the anger enter his voice. He hates himself for this, he hates that his mother is twisting the knife instead of trying to heal him like he always believed she was supposed to.
“Oh, oh honey, I’m so sorry.” Lanie’s fingers close gently around his wrist, and for a fleeting moment, Eddie lets himself believe that it’s his own mother’s hand pressing into his skin. “You must miss him.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits to her, voice watery.
“Yeah,” Lanie agrees kindly. “Eddie, honey, do you maybe want to call someone?”
Yes, he really fucking does.
“He might not answer,” Eddie says instead. Eddie really does not want to think about the reasons why Buck wouldn’t answer.
Lanie’s eyes soften. “Are you sure?”
Nodding feels like a lie, but he does anyway.
“You never know. Why don’t you try?”
“Because then I’d really know.” That is the truth. Eddie would very much like to continue living in his deluded universe where his best friend, who he has some very strong and very confusing feelings for, drops everything, including his boyfriend, to come running when Eddie calls. Like he promised he would.
“You should call him,” Lanie presses. “Believe me, the people who love you want to help you.”
“But I told Buck I was fine. He’s with his boyfriend, and I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Asking for help when you need it isn’t ever an interruption. Don’t you think, uh, Buck, would be more upset if you needed something and didn’t ask?”
And there it is. A random, motherly bartender has managed to hit the nail on the fucking head.
He must look shocked because Lanie just smiles at him. “Honey,” she says. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.”
“I should call Buck?” Eddie asks. His voice sounds like a child’s, like Christopher’s when his son still looked to him for guidance, like his own used to be when he would look up at his mother with frightened eyes.
“Call Buck,” Lanie assures him. “I can stay here while you dial if you’d like.”
Eddie nods in acceptance, and true to her word, Lanie stays leaning on the bar across from him as his shaky fingers pull up his favorites list and tap on Buck’s contact.
It rings.
And rings, and rings, and rings until Buck’s voice is telling him he’s unavailable.
Eddie drops his phone onto the bar top. Something inside him cracks. Buck always picks up. Buck always used to pick up. He thinks of their last text message, Buck telling Eddie to call. Promising that he’d answer. Despite his protests to Lanie, Eddie had believed Buck when he made that promise, and he believed that he would keep it.
“He didn’t answer,” Eddie whispers, shell-shocked.
“Oh, honey I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Lanie tries.
“Not your fault,” Eddie assures her. “It’s mine.”
“No, that’s not-”
Eddie cuts her off. “It is.” His voice cracks and he’s half-crying as he purges his soul to this woman, the closest thing to a mother that he has right now. “I’ve fucked it all up and this is my punishment. I hate myself for doing this to them. To all of them. We had a family, and I fucking ripped it apart, and somehow Buck doesn’t despise me for that, but he deserves to have a night free from my fucking tornado of problems picking up cows and shit and flinging them all over the place until I’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever tried to build for the people I love.” Eddie pauses, barely registering as Lanie’s eyes flick to the phone on the bar between them. “What would I even say if he ever does pick up? I mean how do you tell your best friend that you think you love him, but, oh no, not like that, not like how we agreed to love each other. It’s the other kind, the scary kind, the fucking life-changing terrifying, what do I do if he rejects me kind? And then it’ll be oh, Eddie, are you gay? Well, I have no fucking idea?! But I’m pretty fucking sure that I’m at least gay for you, which is unfortunate because you don’t love me like that, and if I fuck this up too, then my son definitely won’t ever come back because I’m afraid the only thing here that he misses is you. He won’t talk at all unless you’re on the phone with me, and he didn’t get the birthday gift we sent him that you wrapped in the paper with the green zigzags on it because my fucking mother went out and bought the exact same thing to give him from her because he doesn’t need me and she wants to prove it. She doesn’t want to help me fix this. You’re the only one who wants to help me fix this and actually can, and now you won’t pick up the fucking phone even though you told me to call if I needed you and promised you’d answer, so I’m calling, and you’re not answering, and I don’t know what to do!”
Eddie is fully crying now, and he’s vaguely aware of Lanie shooing people away.
“Honey,” she whispers, her finger pointing at the screen of his phone. When Eddie looks down he thinks he might be sick. Buck’s contact is still on the screen, the seconds ticking up as it records.
“Oh shit,” Eddie chokes.
He left a voicemail. He left Buck a voicemail.
“Oh god. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Buck.” The words come out like a whisper, and then finally, he hangs up with a sob.
Lanie is staring at him. “Eddie.” Her voice is serious. “You need to go home. You need to brush your teeth, get into some comfortable clothes, and go to bed. You need to sleep, okay? Honey, can you do that?”
Eddie nods.
“Can I call someone else for you? Another friend? A neighbor?”
“I’ll call an Uber,” Eddie says.
“Are you sure?” Lanie presses.
Eddie waves her off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“It’s not your fault. I just- I really believed that he would pick up.” Eddie sucks in a breath and flips his phone towards her, showing that the Uber he ordered home is on its way.
“I’ll be here tomorrow night,” Lanie tells him as he hops off the stool, not as stable on his feet as he’d like to be. “If you need anything.”
“Thank you, Lanie. Really.”
“Anytime, honey. Though I sincerely hope this is a one-time thing.”
“Yeah, me too.” With that, Eddie walks out of the bar. His truck sits empty in a spot at the far side of the parking lot, but he waits for his Uber, too drunk to drive himself. He’ll come back for it tomorrow.
When his Uber is three minutes away, Eddie realizes that he does not want to go home. He can’t. The house is empty, there’s glass on the floor, and every room reminds him of everyone that isn’t there anymore. He punches in a new address just as the driver pulls up. When the driver calls his name, Eddie fumbles with his phone as he tries to slide it into his back pocket before clambering into the car.
Eddie watches the clock on the dashboard strike midnight as they move through the streets of LA, further and further away from his house until they reach his destination.
The driver looks at him in the rearview mirror as he pulls to a stop. “You sure about this, man? I can take you somewhere else if you want”
Eddie looks at the empty street in front of the address he entered. The storefronts are long closed, but there’s a hotel across the way and a convenience store that has a few lights on.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Eddie assures him. “Thanks.”
Eddie shuffles over to the curb a few yards away from the hotel entrance, just outside of the patch of light the brightly lit lobby is casting onto the street. With a sigh, he reaches back into his back pocket for his phone to give his driver a tip, which is when he realizes it isn’t there. Classic. Eddie stares at the darkened shop across from him. There’s a shadowed decal pasted to the window, a family, all dressed in flannel and cowboy hats. He squints at the sign above the door. Family Western it says. Well, that’s just perfect, isn’t it? The sky is velvet and dark above him, the heat of the day dissipating just enough that Eddie shivers, the liquor in his stomach not enough to keep him completely warm. But, the stars are beautiful, and there are no storms brewing in the sky. That’s good enough for now.
When the sun comes up, Eddie promises himself that he’ll find his way home.
___
The clock ticks to just past 12:30 and Buck’s fingers itch towards his phone. Eddie had called him an hour and thirty-four minutes into The Shawshank Redemption, and despite finding the film extremely compelling, Buck’s mind kept jumping to the surge of vicious anger he felt when Tommy gently pulled his phone from his grasp just as he was about to pick up because ‘you can’t pause Shawshank.’ Buck, frankly, does not care about the pausing permissions of award-winning films, and that little nagging voice in his brain will not shut up. He’s not the one, it says. Well, Buck fucking needs Tommy to be the one because if he isn’t, that means Buck has made the wrong choice. Again.
It’s over an hour later, now, the final credits are rolling, and Buck figures that the pause ban is lifted, so he picks up his phone, expecting to see at least a few text messages from Eddie explaining the reason for his call.
But there’s nothing.
Nothing except a voicemail.
Which is weird, only because Buck and Eddie don’t leave each other voicemails. Neither of them ever listen to them. Who the hell does?
Something twists in Buck’s gut. It’s baseless but feels borderline psychic. Something’s wrong.
He goes to tap on the voicemail, hand shaking, but before he can play Eddie’s voice, Tommy is taking the phone out of his grasp again.
“I know you feel bad about bailing on him tonight, but, Evan, Eddie isn’t here and I am. Let me help you focus on this.” The voice pipes up again. He’s not the one.
Buck stares at his now-empty palms. “You know he’s struggling, and you know he’s important to me, so why-”
“Hey. Hey. Eddie is important to me too,” Tommy insists.
Buck can’t help it when his eyebrows knit together at that.
Tommy sighs. “Not the way he is to you,” he concedes. “Of course I know that, but I’m hoping he gets through this rough patch too. He just-”
Buck meets Tommy’s eyes, daring him to find the correct ending for that sentence.
Tommy doesn’t seem to notice. “He just doesn’t need you to get him through it. Believe me, Evan, sometimes a man needs to hit rock bottom and find a way to stand up on his own. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. It sucks, and it’s hard, but it makes you stronger. Eddie could stand to get a little stronger.”
“Okay, now what the fuck?!” Buck spits through gritted teeth. “No fucking way you just said what I think you just said.” He’s shaking his head vigorously with enough force to push the instinctive tears burning the corners of his eyes back behind his eyelids.
Tommy pulls his hands up in mock surrender. “Whoa, okay. I’m trying to be helpful.”
And the thing is, Buck thinks Tommy is trying to be helpful, that he genuinely thinks that this whole go-it-alone thing is what’s best for Eddie. It’s just that Buck knows he’s wrong.
Buck shouldn’t be angry at Tommy for not knowing. He can’t be. Because Tommy needs to be the one.
Still, there’s a chasm between them, one filled with thunder and lightning and waves and bullets. There are things etched so deeply into Buck’s being that they aren’t even visible as scars anymore. They’re in his bloodstream, in every breath he takes and every tear he cries. Eddie has them too, and that’s why Buck knows where to look.
“I see the wheels turning, Evan, so what the hell?” Tommy interrupts. “All I’m saying is that you don’t need to protect Eddie. I don’t think he needs you like you think he does.”
And there it is.
The gaping chasm. Nothing to do with Eddie himself, but everything to do with the fact that the very core of Buck’s being is to be a caretaker, to love so hard and so completely so that the people he loves don’t ever have to suffer alone as long as he’s around. It isn’t about whether or not they actually need him. He wants to be there. It’s not a burden to him, it’s a blessing. Maddie suffered alone when he ran away from him. Bobby’s suffered in ways Buck can’t even begin to comprehend. Chimney has suffered and so has Hen. And Eddie. Always Eddie.
Some of their struggles came before he knew them and some came after. But in the after, they had to know they were never alone. He was there. Eddie has to know that too.
“It’s not about whether or not he needs me,” Buck says quietly. “I want to be there for the people I love.”
Tommy’s face softens. “I know that, Evan, really. And that’s a great part of your personality, but don’t you get it? Someone is always going to be suffering, and I don’t want you to have to run off every time that’s the case. I don’t think it’s wrong of me to say that I want to be your first priority.”
Buck freezes. “Tommy,” he starts slowly.
“No. No, I know. You have a sister, a niece, a- Christopher. But they are each already someone else’s top priority. I just want to be yours.”
“I- I don’t think I can do that?” Buck manages.
“Not now? Or…” Tommy trails off, and Buck keeps his eyes trained on the ground. “Not ever,” Tommy confirms. “Well, that’s really great to know.” His voice is sharper now, his tone threaded with hurt. Buck hates that he put it there, but he can’t lie. Tommy is fun. He’s sweet. He’s shown Buck a whole new world. But Buck can’t imagine ever putting him above Maddie or Jee or Chris or any of the 118. Especially not Eddie. Because…
Nope nope nope. Buck slams that door in his brain so fast he jars himself.
But that doesn’t quell the feeling that he’s the shittiest person on earth. Buck knows deep down in his soul that if his boyfriend asked him the age old question, if you could only save one of us, me or Eddie, who would it be? Without hesitation, Buck would choose Eddie. Every. Single. Time.
Maybe if he gave it more time. Maybe if he tried harder with Tommy, the answer could grow to be different, but the thought of ever not choosing Eddie makes Buck feel so sick that he digs his nails into his wrist to tamp down the bile that’s crawling up his throat.
“Shit, Evan,” Tommy says. “I really thought that after a while, you’d realize that your little 118 family is a temporary substitute for a permanent partner, but-”
“They’re the permanent ones,” Buck finishes, finally finding his voice. “Tommy, I’m so-”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he interrupts, hand held out to stop him. “It was always going to end like this, wasn’t it? The role I want is already being filled by all of them. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but you already had them. There’s just no more room.” Tommy sounds defeated.
Buck can’t even argue because, as Tommy speaks, the twisted knot in his stomach starts to unravel. Everything being said is true. Buck has built this family for himself, and it’s the most precious thing in his life, so he’ll defend it with all he has until his knuckles are bruised and bleeding. It’s simply an indisputable fact.
What’s sobering is the very terrifying fact that if there really is no more room, Buck will never be able to fall in love. Unless…The door in his brain rattles. No.
“They’re lucky to have you, Evan. Though I do wish you’d release them enough to hang on to me,” Tommy says, drawing Buck from his thoughts.
“I’m sorry.” Buck really, truly means it, but it doesn’t change a thing.
“I know you are.”
“I’m gonna go,” Buck throws a thumb over his shoulder towards Tommy’s front door. “Thanks, uh, for all this,” he finishes lamely.
“Yeah, sure. Bye, Evan.”
When the door shuts behind him, Buck is alone in Tommy’s hallway. Single. Again.
Fuck.
Buck doesn’t know what to do, so he sits in the lobby of Tommy’s building and calls Eddie. He calls and calls without an answer, until eventually he leaves a voicemail. It’s short and pleading, Buck apologizing for missing his call and begging Eddie to call him back. Eddie probably won’t even listen to it.
Eddie doesn’t call back. Buck doesn’t even get a text.
When Buck steps outside, the cool night air hits his lungs, and his shaky breathing steadies to the point that his head is clear enough to remember that he didn’t drive himself here. Tommy had picked him up from his apartment.
So, Buck calls an Uber, and as his phone screen flashes with his location, he remembers that a beautiful wonderful thing known as GPS exists. Buck doesn’t think he’s being dramatic when he says it’s the greatest invention ever, especially when he tracks Eddie’s phone location to a bar twenty minutes away.
Immediately, Buck changes the destination for his Uber to Eddie’s location, and he all but flings himself into the backseat when the driver calls his name. Buck needs to be near Eddie immediately. He’s not exactly sure why, but he is certain that he won’t be able to relax until he sees Eddie safe and sound. Buck’s knee bounces anxiously for the entire drive, but it stills with relief when Buck sees Eddie’s truck as the parking lot finally comes into view. Buck is falling out of the backseat with an appreciative ‘thank you’ and the promise of a generous tip before the car is even in park.
Buck starts towards the door, towards Eddie, when his toe catches on something that makes a metallic clank against the pavement. He looks down instinctively. A cell phone? More out of curiosity than anything else, Buck snatches it off the ground and presses the side button. His stomach turns.
On top of a very familiar background photo of Chris beaming at the camera, there are six missed calls and a voicemail. From him.
He’s holding Eddie’s phone.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
Buck drops Eddie’s phone in his pocket, shoves down the rapidly rising panic, and pushes through the door to the bar. Maybe he’s still inside.
Buck throws the door open and charges into the bar, eyes frantically scanning every corner of the disappointingly empty room. A woman wiping down the bar top looks up at him. She regards him calmly, though Buck is sure he looks incredibly frazzled. “Sorry, honey, last call was fifteen minutes ago.”
Buck glances at his watch. 1:15am.
“No, I don’t- I- I’m looking for someone.”
“Do they work here?” The woman asks gently. “Everyone else is gone.” She waits for him to catch up.
“No. It’s my best friend,” Buck insists. “I’m looking for my best friend. He was here. I found his phone in the parking lot. You have to help me, I-” Buck runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends of his curls.
She looks at him quizzically. “We get a lot of people in here, hon, I don’t know-”
“You have to remember him,” Buck begs. “Please. Brown hair, brown eyes, was probably completely oblivious to the flock of people flirting with him.” Buck tries to chuckle. He fails.
The bartender takes pity on him and does laugh gently, and Buck lets out a soft groan. “Please, miss, you have to remember Eddie. How could you forget someone like him?”
“Wait, are you Buck?”
“Yes, Buck! I’m Buck,” he jumps in, not entirely sure why the woman’s face has gone completely slack with shock. It doesn’t even cross his mind to bother asking why she knows his name.
“I remember Eddie,” she says carefully. “He left you a voicemail.”
Buck’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, yeah he called me around 11:30. I- I missed it. I promised him I’d always pick up and I missed his fucking call.”
“Buck, honey, relax,” the woman soothes him. “I sent him in an Uber. Last I saw he was climbing in. I guess his phone must have dropped out of his pocket.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Buck asks weakly.
“Well, I told him to go home, and he agreed, so as far as I know, he went home.”
Of course. Home.
“Thank you,” Buck wraps both hands around the woman’s wrist, halting her as she goes back to wiping down the bar. “Thank you so much, uh-”
“Lanie.”
“Thank you, Lanie. Seriously.”
He turns to leave, but Lanie calls out to him.
“Buck, honey, did you listen to the voicemail?”
“No? Who listens to voicemails anymore?”
Lanie just shrugs. “You might want to listen to this one.”
Buck flashes her a confused smile, but he is most certainly not going to waste time listening to a goddamn voicemail recording when he could be getting himself to Eddie’s house where he can hear his actual voice.
Buck fishes his keys out of his pocket and finds the extra fob for Eddie’s truck that he was given years ago for school drop-offs and never returned. Buck clambers into the truck, letting Eddie’s smell envelop him, calming his frayed nerves. Eddie went home. Eddie went home. Everything is fine because Eddie went home.
It makes sense.
When Buck arrives at Eddie’s house, it’s dark. But, it’s past 1:30 now, and Eddie would normally be asleep at this hour, so Buck just quietly lets himself in.
“Eddie,” he calls into the darkness. “Are you here?”
Nothing.
“Hey, I know I bailed on you tonight, and I know you’re mad that I didn’t pick up when you called, and you can absolutely be mad at me, but I’m kinda freaked out because I haven’t heard from you and I found your phone in a bar parking lot, and I just really want to know that you’re okay.”
Silence.
“Please, Eddie. Come on. Be here.” The tears that didn’t come during Buck’s break up come now. “Literally, you can yell at me to leave if you want, I just need to hear your voice, please.”
More nothing.
“Eddie, where are you?” Buck’s voice breaks.
More silence.
“Eddie, I swear to god, if you’re giving me the silent treatment right now, I’m going to piss in the shower the next time you’re on rotation to clean them,” Buck chokes through a sob. “I fucking mean it, man. If you’re here and listening to me worrying about you without responding because ‘you don’t want to hear it’ or ‘you don’t deserve it’ or whatever shit you tell yourself- I swear when I find you, I’m going to give you the biggest fucking hug and then dunk your head in the toilet.”
No response.
The likelihood of finding Eddie here is feeling gut-wrenching low, but still, Buck has to make sure.
He pads into Eddie’s room, heart squeezing when he finds it empty, confirming his fears. The backyard is desolate as well. Then, Buck searches the house like a madman. He rips open every door until every closet is spilling its contents and every room is laid barren before him. It might be futile, but it’s something. Buck reaches the bathroom and flings that door open as well.
He freezes.
There’s broken glass scattered on the floor, glinting up at him. Buck looks up and sees his broken reflection in the shattered mirror. He sucks in a breath and it feels like the shards are tearing into his throat.
Why didn’t he pick up Eddie’s call? Why didn’t he snatch his phone back from Tommy and walk away to answer? Buck knew better. He knew better than to let his best friend get sent to voicemail.
Now there’s broken glass and only one door left to open. His last hope. The door to Chris’ room.
Buck holds his breath as he turns the knob, hoping beyond hope that he’ll find Eddie nestled among Chris stuffed animals. He nudges the door open quietly like he’s done a thousand times to check on Chris when he was asleep.
Buck’s blood instantly goes cold.
Nothing.
Eddie isn’t here. There’s a shattered mirror in the bathroom, Eddie is gone, and Buck had no idea where to find him.
Hands shaking, Buck considers calling Athena, calling anyone who can organize a fucking search party at nearly two in the morning because Eddie is lost, and Buck needs to find him. Immediately.
Buck collapses onto Eddie’s couch and unlocks his phone to call Bobby, but when he pulls up his recent calls, he sees the six outgoing he made to Eddie, and just before those, the one he missed. The one after which Eddie left him a voicemail.
And maybe…
Buck has the audacity to hope that Eddie might have mentioned where he was going. It’s not likely, but it’s possible, so it’s worth a shot.
Buck holds his phone to his ear and listens.
It starts with Eddie’s heartbroken whisper. He didn’t answer. Buck almost drops his phone at the sound of brutal hurt in Eddie’s voice, but before he can, another voice comes through the speaker. It’s the bartender, Lanie, apologizing, like it’s her fault that Buck didn’t pick up.
And then Buck’s entire world caves in.
Eddie’s voice is cracking and wet with tears as he tells Lanie that he hates himself for tearing his family apart, that he doesn’t understand how Buck doesn’t despise him for it when he keeps destroying everything they built.
He didn’t. Buck could never despise him. Not for anything.
Suddenly, Eddie is talking to Buck, but it’s not like he actually thinks Buck is there, it’s more like he thinks that he isn’t.
How do you tell your best friend that you think you love him?
What? Buck doesn’t even get a second to process that before Eddie continues, the self-loathing evident in his voice as he spits out that it’s not the kind of love they agreed to, that he’s terrified, that he might be gay but isn’t sure. That he’s certain that he loves Buck anyway and really truly doesn’t believe it’s reciprocated.
Holy fucking shit.
He’s alone. All of this inside him, and he’s fucking alone.
Silent tears are streaming down Buck's face. He’s crying for the pain his best friend is in and for the fact that he isn’t there to help him through it. Buck wants so badly to reach through the phone and shake Eddie and say no, you’re wrong. I love you too. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. You’re safe.
Because it’s true. And Buck can’t hide from that anymore. While he was flinging open all the doors in Eddie’s house in his frantic search, the doors he tried to keep locked in his mind opened alongside them, and everything Buck ever tried to hold in, poured out. But he can’t say anything because it’s only Eddie’s voice on the other end of the phone, and it isn’t done speaking yet. If it’s even possible, somehow it gets worse.
Buck can barely make out the words Eddie is sobbing so hard now, but he squeezes his eyes shut so the syllables become clearer. It’s about Chris. Of course it’s about Chris. But, it’s also Eddie terrified that Buck is the only reason Chris might ever come back, like Eddie doesn’t even matter at all, and oh my god it was Chris’ actual birthday today- well, yesterday, now. Buck remembers the gift. Eddie was so excited about it, and Buck wrapped it while sitting next to him on the living room floor. They were so hopeful, but his mother stole that and-
Buck does want to help him fix it, but Eddie is choking on the anger that Buck didn’t pick up the fucking phone. Eddie called, and Buck broke his promise and didn’t answer.
Something inside of him cracks. .
Lanie’s voice comes through the speaker again, a gentle honey.
“Oh shit.” Eddie’s voice.
What?
“Oh god. Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Buck.” With one last heartbreaking sob, the voicemail cuts off and Buck is left in silence.
Why the fuck is he apologizing? Oh.
Eddie didn’t mean to leave him that voicemail.
Buck’s head is spinning and there are tear tracks down his face, but he can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Eddie. Drunk. Afraid. Angry. No Chris. No Buck. Alone.
Shit. Holy fucking shit this can’t be happening.
Buck is sitting in Eddie’s living room entirely helpless. The entire city of LA looms over him, and he doesn’t know where in it Eddie could possibly be. There are too many places to look everywhere, even though he absolutely will if it comes down to that. Buck needs to call Bobby. He needs to get Athena and a search party and one of Eddie’s sweaters for the search dogs to sniff.
But it’s all too much and too scary, and Buck doesn’t know where to start, but he sure as shit knows who pushed Eddie to flee, and Buck’s next step is giving that person a piece of his fucking mind. Buck stalks over to the fridge, finding the list of emergency and family phone numbers stuck to the door with a magnetic seahorse, and punches in Helena Diaz’s phone number.
Unsurprisingly, seeing as it’s the middle of the night, he gets her voicemail. Buck doesn’t waste a second.
“Mrs. Diaz, this is Evan Buckley, and I just called to tell you that what you’re doing to your son makes me fucking sick. You’re treating him like shit, like he isn’t allowed to make mistakes, and oh wait, maybe he never was in front of you. But here, in LA, he’s really fucking loved by people who actually want to help him get through his mistakes, not people who are supposed to love him but take the first opportunity they can to rip his heart away from him with those smug little fucking grins on their faces. Don’t think I didn’t goddamn see that when you took Chris away. Eddie doesn’t deserve this. He’s the best fucking person I know, and I can’t even wrap my head around why you’re doing this to him. Yeah, Chris is mad, but Eddie let him go because he trusted you to keep his son safe while working through this, and help guide him back to his home. You betrayed your own son, and Eddie is so good that I know he won’t ever show you how much it kills him that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his relationship with his son, so I’m going to do it for him. You are not stupid people. I know you see what you’re doing. I know you knew what it would do to him when you gave Chris the same present we got for him. And you did it anyway. Like you take some sick kind of pleasure in hurting him. Maybe you think you’re winning, maybe you think you’re protecting Chris from - from what? A loving happy home with laughter and tears and anger and chocolate chip pancakes? Whatever the hell you think you’re doing, you are not doing it for Christopher. You’re doing it because you’re selfish and you want him for yourselves. But you don’t want his father, you don’t want your son. Well, newsflash, Mrs. Diaz, I fucking want Eddie. I want both of them. Eddie and Chris. Together. The way it’s supposed to be. And I’m here, in LA, in their home, and I am going to fucking fix it because I love them enough to put what they need above what I want. Unlike you.”
Buck pauses, his breath heaving. He could keep going. He could yell at this woman until his voice gives out on him, but he’s said his piece. Now, he needs to fucking find his best friend.
Buck hangs up.
Not two minutes later, Buck’s phone rings.
It’s Chris.
Buck picks up so quickly he almost flings his phone across the room. “Christopher? Are you okay? It’s almost three in the morning where you are.”
“Buck?” Chris’ voice is thick with exhaustion.
“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” He takes a breath to steady himself.
“Did dad’s wallet get stolen?”
“I- Chris, what?”
“I made dad get an Air Tag for his wallet a few months ago,” Chris explains. “He kept losing his wallet in the couch, and I got tired of looking for it every morning, so I set up my phone to be able to ping it. And I couldn’t sleep so I just wanted to see him at home, but it says his wallet is at some random hotel. Did his wallet get stolen? Or-”
“No, buddy, um, can you tell me what hotel?”
“Buck, is something wrong?” Chris’ voice is shaking now. “I could call him or maybe-”
“It’s gonna be fine, Chris,” Buck assures him. “Please, just tell me where your dad’s wallet is.”
“I should’ve talked to him,” Chris cries. “He called me after dinner before I got my presents, and I didn’t say anything even though it was my birthday, and he loves my birthday.”
“I- I know, Chris. He understands, he loves you anyway, I swear.”
“I was just mad!” Chris gasps in frustration. “I looked at all the presents and there wasn’t anything from him. Or you.”
“Chris,” Buck tries to keep his voice level. “Your dad and I sent you the exact headset that you’ve been dropping hints about since February. I wrapped it in green zig zag paper and stuck a giant blue bow on top. I tracked the package every day until it arrived three days ago.”
“What?” Chris sounds a million miles away, which he might as well be.
“Don’t you believe me?” Buck desperately needs Chris to trust this.
“I knew it.” Buck hears the tears and his chest aches with the fact that he can’t wipe them from Chris’ cheek. “I knew he wouldn’t forget about me.”
“Jesus, Chris. Never. Your dad would never ever forget about you.”
“I got the headset from Grandma and Grandpa and I just thought-”
“Chris,” Buck interrupts. “Buddy, I love you so much, and I really really want to keep talking to you, but I need you to give me the address where you tracked the Air Tag.”
“Something really is wrong, isn’t it,” Chris chokes out.
“No,” Buck says seriously. “You and I are going to fix it together. You give me that address, and I’m going to go to it, okay?”
“Okay,” Chris whispers.
Buck’s phone pings with the location.
“Try to get some sleep, buddy. We’ll call you in the morning, can you do that?”
Chris takes a shaky breath and agrees.
“Oh, and, uh, Chris? If your grandma starts to listen to her voicemails, maybe leave the room.”
“That’s a weird thing to say, Buck,” Chris notes. “Who listens to their voicemail?”
As much as it pains him to do so, Buck hangs up with a short laugh. Then he stands up, grabs his keys, gets into Eddie’s truck and drives, praying to every higher power he can think of that, this time, Eddie will be waiting for him when he arrives. Drunk. Afraid. Angry. Alone. But safe.
Then Buck can take him home and they can deal with everything else.
The address is familiar, but Buck can’t quite place it. When he plugs it into the GPS, it directs him to a part of town neither Buck nor Eddie frequent. Thankfully, it’s not a particularly sketchy area, but it’s already past two in the morning, and Buck really doesn’t fucking care how nice the place is in daylight. Eddie shouldn’t be out there now.
Buck holds his breath when he makes the last turn. The truck creeps down the street slowly, until the headlights pass over a figure sitting on the curb, cloaked in shadows just beyond the light spilling from the hotel.
Eddie. Holy fucking shit, Eddie.
Buck yanks the steering wheel, parking haphazardly at the side of the street. He nearly topples out of the driver’s seat in his haste, righting himself quickly as he squints towards the figure. Buck can’t make out any defining features, but he’s so sure that it’s Eddie that he only takes two steps towards him before speaking.
“Eddie Diaz how fucking dare you?”
Eddie whirls around, half-standing in less than a second, with his eyes wide, fists raised, and shoulders tensed.
Buck tries to sound angry, but it’s abject relief that paints his tone. Eddie is there in front of him. Not broken. Not dying. In one piece.
When Eddie sees that it’s Buck, every bit of fight goes out of him, and he sags, horrible, heartbroken sobs punching out of him.
Buck breaks into a run, catching his best friend in his arms before Eddie’s knees give out.
“It’s going to be okay,” Buck promises with the words he couldn’t give Eddie before. “I’ve got you. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Eddie’s fingers twist into the fabric of Buck’s jacket.
“Eddie, I am so sorry. You called me and I-”
“You came,” Eddie sobs. “You came to get me.”
Buck squeezes him tighter as warmth creeps up his spine. “I’ll always come get you, Eds. You know that.”
Eddie nods from where his head is tucked between Buck’s chin and shoulder. “How did you find me?”
“Well, some idiot dropped their phone in a parking lot,” Buck teases, letting his grip on Eddie relax enough to play with the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck. “So when I tracked it there, all I found was your truck. So, I drove home, and you weren’t there either, but I, um, I found-”
“Fuck, you found the mirror,” Eddie moans. “God, I am so sorry I did that to you.”
Buck stiffens, his thumb stilling on the thumping of Eddie’s heartbeat in his neck.
“What- what happened Eddie? Why’d you break the mirror?”
Eddie is silent, his fingers playing with the loose zipper on Buck’s jacket pocket.
“Come on, please?” Buck implores him. “I’m not upset, I promise. I’m not going to leave you here and drive away if I don’t like the answer. I just won’t be able to stop worrying unless you tell me.”
Eddie sighs, but Buck’s words seem to loosen his tongue. “Buck, I was so angry. Chris didn’t talk to me when I called him, you were busy, then my mom sent me a stupid video of Chris opening a gift that was supposed to be from us, and I just lost it for one second, and all of a sudden…” Eddie trails off.
“Okay. It’s okay. We can buy you a new mirror,” Buck assures him. “But that’s not when you called me, was it?”
“No.”
“That was later, at the bar,” Buck supplies. “With Lanie. She’s really nice by the way. Called me honey and all that which would’ve been sweet if not for the-”
“Fucking bees,” Eddie finishes with a groan. “I thought the same thing.”
“Well, it’s good to know we still share the one brain cell,” Buck quips. This is better. This is them.
“Who had it when you used me as bait?” Eddie grumbles.
“I did,” Buck replies. “Obviously. It was a genius plan.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows.
“Don’t give me that,” Buck scolds. “You loved it.”
“Did I though?”
“You didn’t protest!” Buck insists.
“Of course I didn’t, you dumbass.” Eddie rolls his eyes in the darkness. “You were the one asking, and I trust you. I wasn’t going to say no and you knew it.”
“I guess I did,” Buck agrees. He doesn’t move his arms from where they’re wrapped around Eddie’s back, figuring when Eddie wants them to move, he’ll pull away.
But Eddie only settles deeper into Buck’s arms. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “You still didn’t tell me how you found me though,” he mumbles. “You were at my house. How’d you get here?”
Buck has a one-word answer for him. “Chris.”
“Chris? How did- What?”
“Chris couldn’t sleep,” Buck explains. “He called me because the Air Tag he apparently installed on your wallet wasn’t at home. It was here.”
“Geez, I forgot about that thing,” Eddie says.
“Eddie, he wanted to know if you were okay, or, you know, if you got your wallet stolen and he needed to replace his emergency credit card.” The joke doesn’t land.
“What did you tell him?” Eddie’s voice is so small and quiet that Buck wants to wrap him up in bubble wrap and personally drop kick anyone who comes within ten feet of him.
“He asked if something was wrong,” Buck admits. “But I told him that he and I could fix it together. That if he could tell me where you were, I would come and get you.”
“Thank you,” Eddie whispers. “Thank you.”
Buck presses his nose into Eddie’s hair. “I, uh, I also told him that we didn’t forget his birthday present. I think he believed me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie pulls out of Buck’s arms slowly, eyes shining but steady. “I just don’t understand why-”
“Yeah, me neither. And uh, just a heads up, the next time your mother calls you, her opinion of me probably isn’t going to be…great.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Why? What’d you do?”
“I fucking defended your honor is what I did,” Buck smiles at Eddie’s shocked expression. “What? It’s not like you were going to do it.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Buck,” Eddie starts, and for a brief and terrible moment Buck is paralyzed with the fear that he went too far, but the corners of Eddie’s mouth twitch upwards as he finishes. “What did she say to you?”
“Oh, I just left her a voicemail.”
“You left her a voicemail? Who fucking leaves voicemails anymore?”
Buck responds without thinking. “Uh, you?”
Eddie’s face drops immediately, and he backs away from Buck so quickly that he almost trips over a crack in the sidewalk. Buck grabs him by the elbow.
“God, Buck, please tell me you didn’t listen to it? I- I can’t even believe I did that. I didn’t even realize I was leaving one, I swear. You can just ignore-”
“I will abso-fucking-lutely not ignore it,” Buck declares, looking Eddie dead in the eyes and following his gaze as he tries to escape eye contact. “Because now I get to tell you what I would have said if I’d had the sense to pick up the phone. Okay? Listen to me, Eddie. You did not destroy this family, you never could.”
Eddie blinks.
This is it.
“I love you too, Eds, and not in the way we agreed. In the terrifying, oh my god I hope he doesn’t reject me while I’m standing in front of him on the curb in the middle of the night, way. I don’t care if you don’t know what to call yourself. I really don’t. We can figure it out together, or you can figure it out alone, or we don’t have to ever think about it at all. But I fucking love you, and you won’t ruin this, and Chris will come home to both of us. He knows you sent him the best present, and your mother is being an asshole, and you don’t deserve that. So, Eddie, in case you were still wondering, that’s how you tell your best friend you think you love him. You did it exactly right, okay?” Buck feels fresh tears tracking down his cheeks. “Except next time, maybe let’s skip the whole lost in LA in the middle of the night thing.” A wet laugh escapes him and he quickly changes the subject to give Eddie an out just in case. “Why the hell are you even here? What is this place?”
Eddie is staring at Buck wide-eyed. “You- you-” Eddie stutters, very much not taking the out.
“I love you, did I not make that clear?” Buck feels the grin breaking across his face. They’re so close to the finish line now.
“But- but you have a boyfriend?”
Oh, right. That.
“Not as of…” He checks his watch. “Give or take three hours ago,” Buck explains. “It’s been a long fucking night.”
“Why?”
“Because he told me not to pick up the phone.”
The question in Eddie’s eyes is obvious.
“He thought it would make you stronger to hit rock bottom and pick yourself up on your own, but I happen to think that you’re plenty strong as it is, don’t you? And, I mean, even if you weren’t, everyone deserves help, you know? He’s great, but he just didn’t get that.”
“Buck,” Eddie breathes out his name with a reverence that makes him feel like a saint. “You’re wonderful. In every single way.”
“But, Eddie, I let your call go to voicemail.”
“One time, Buck. And it’s not like I ever would’ve said any of that to you if you’d answered, but I’m really glad I did because now…” Eddie trails off, and his eyes flick to Buck’s lips.
They move in tandem, meeting in the middle, lips touching gently at first, then building like the swell of a storm on the open ocean. Eddie’s lips part first, Buck’s following immediately after, desperate and hopeful and everything in between. Eddie’s hands are on his neck and in his hair, fingertips brushing across skin in a way that sends a shiver through him.
“Buck?” Eddie pulls back, panting now, and Buck wants to dive at him again, but there’s a question in Eddie’s expression that clearly needs to be asked.
“Yeah?”
“You asked me what this place is. Do you really not know?”
Buck shakes his head. “Family Western? Not a clue why that of all things is significant.”
Eddie barks out a dry laugh.
“Oh, does it remind you of Texas?” Buck tries. “We can-”
“No, Buck,” Eddie holds his gaze. “You died here.”
Buck whips around, staring at the building across from him. The facade is different now, the Family Western storefront on the ground floor new as well, but Eddie is right. Buck sees the line of windows that was his destination that night. He can imagine himself bounding up the ladder, he can feel Eddie, the weight at the other end of his line. The rain is pounding on his shoulders and making echoing sounds as it splatters on his helmet. Eddie’s voice. Go get ‘em, cowboy. Then nothing.
But Eddie. Eddie looks up at this building and sees him dead.
The hits just keep on coming.
“Oh,” is all Buck manages. Then. “They turned it into a fucking cowboy store. That’s ironic.”
Eddie snorts like he agrees. “That was the worst day of my life,” he admits. “Because you were gone and there was nothing I could do about it.”
“If it was the worst day of your life, then why did you come back?” Buck asks. He genuinely wants to know.
“Because as weird as it sounds, that night sort of set me free?” Eddie tries. “Everything I’d been fighting against. Me. You. Us. I felt it slipping through my fingers and I promised God, the universe, anybody who would listen that I’d stop being such a coward if I got you back. It was the worst day of my life, but it was also the day that I realized that I love you in all the ways I never thought I could. Even if it wasn’t reciprocated. Tonight, I guess, I just wanted to remind myself what that felt like.”
“Holy shit. Eddie, um, have you talked to someone about this?”
“You,” Eddie says simply. “And Frank, don’t worry.”
Eddie really does look free now, like the last vestiges of an unbearably heavy weight have just been pulled from his shoulders.
Buck gathers Eddie in his arms and kisses him like they have a lifetime of love waiting for them. Because they do.
—
Eventually they manage to get themselves buckled into Eddie’s truck. Eddie is in the passenger seat, fingers tapping gently on Buck’s right knee as he drives.
“We’ll call Chris tomorrow?” He confirms.
“Definitely,” Buck agrees.
“And when my mom calls me?”
“Put it on fucking speakerphone because I’d like to clarify a few points,” Buck snipes.
“God, I love you,” Eddie sighs. “This is all so fucked though. Everything is so broken.”
“So we put it back together,” Buck declares. “You. Me. Chris. We put it back together, okay? Slow and steady.”
A memory that feels like a thousand years ago stirs in Eddie’s subconscious.
“Buck.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I may have impulse bought some stuffed animals on Amazon.”
Buck dissolves into beautiful laughter.
“We were having a serious conversation just now, Eddie, why the fuck?”
“I don’t know!’ Eddie whines. “They had a whole nursery rhyme collection or whatever and they were just so cute and the rabbit had such sad eyes I couldn’t just leave him there in my computer.”
Buck is laughing so hard tears are spilling from the corners of his eyes. “Eddie, seriously, I’m going to crash the car. You bought a- because you didn’t want it to be trapped in your laptop? Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”
“Buck, seriously,” Eddie mocks with a smirk. “But then the rabbit needed a friend so he would be lonely, so I-”
“Oh god,” Buck wheezes. “Don’t fucking tell me you bought a tortoise too.” It’s a good thing they’re at a stop light because Buck can’t get the words out without doubling over.
“I bought a turtle thank you very much.”
“No, Eddie, you bought a tortoise. A tortoise and a fucking hare. Oh my god, Eddie. Slow and steady wins the race?”
“Well, they were a set! I couldn’t separate them, come on. You’re going to be so obsessed with them when they get here and you know it,” Eddie shoots back, trying to hold back the laughter.
“I’m obsessed with you,” Buck corrects. “So, am I the tortoise or the hare?”
And that does it. Eddie joins Buck in his laughter.
“I wasn’t really thinking about that when I ordered them, but I guess we’re both pretty slow and steady,” Eddie manages. “How long has it been? Six years?”
“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “But Eddie, you should be the hare, you’re such a fast runner.” He dissolves into giggles again, flinching slightly as Eddie smacks him on the arm.
“I hate you.”
“You love me. Bee bait and all.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine. I love you,” Eddie replies, dropping back against the headrest. They sit in silence for a moment. “Hey Buck,” Eddie says. “The light’s green.”
Buck smiles softly at Eddie over his shoulder before he puts his foot on the gas to drive them the rest of the way home. Home to open doors and broken glass and empty bedrooms and packages on the doorstep. Home to where they’ll put it all back together so they can make it to the rest of their lives.
—
When Eddie wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sound of the vacuum cleaner running in the bathroom. The sheets next to him are mussed, still warm even though he’s alone in his bed. But he’s not alone, and he never was, not really.
Eddie closes his eyes, the whirring of the vacuum making its way down the hallway, lulling him back into sleep. Then, his phone rings, jarring him.
Fumbling for his phone where it’s plugged in on the nightstand, Eddie answers before looking at the caller ID.
“Edmundo Diaz, I cannot believe you.”
“Oh, hi mom,” he says unnecessarily loudly.
The vacuum cuts to silence immediately, and Eddie hears Buck’s socked feet running towards the open bedroom door. He skids into the room, sliding across the hardwood floor, then jumps onto the bed next to Eddie, jostling him. Eddie smacks him on the arm then makes a shushing gesture.
“Eddie, I really don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, mom. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His mother huffs into the phone. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t know about this, but imagine my surprise when my sweet angel of a grandson tells me at breakfast that I need to listen to my voicemails, and, well, first of all, how that child knows what a voicemail is, I don’t even know. It’s not like he had a clue what a VCR is.”
Eddie’s eyes snap to Buck, who’s looking at him sheepishly.
Helena continues. “And then I actually go to listen to my voicemails because I’m thinking that maybe he left me one with a thank you for his birthday gifts or maybe there’s one from you, Eddie, an apology or something. So imagine my surprise when it’s this other person,” she spits.
Next to him, Buck looks utterly pleased with himself. He nudges Eddie’s arm and points to himself with a shit-eating grin on his face, any sheepishness long gone. That’s me! He mouths.
“And he’s swearing at me like a sailor, saying all these horrible things. That I’m treating you terribly, that I don’t care about you, and that I took Christopher because I’m selfish, all of which are absolutely ridiculous.”
Eddie runs a hand through his bed head. “Mom, I-”
“You don’t believe me, Eddie? Please, allow me to play it for you.”
Eddie glances at Buck, who shrugs. “Nothing you don’t already know,” he whispers.
Then, staticky, as if someone is holding two phone speakers together, Eddie hears Buck’s voice. His measured anger is immediately evident in his tone. Something about it makes Eddie feel safe.
Eddie sits on his bed in silence as he listens as his best friend goes to bat for him. Listens as Buck says all the things Eddie himself could never bring himself to say to his mother but still need to be said. Eddie’s fingers creep towards Buck’s and wind together as voicemail Buck explains how Eddie can fuck up and still be loved, how he’s good and doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Buck knows that Eddie feels betrayed, knows that he feels unwanted, and he spits it back at Eddie’s mother so she has to hear it, has to hear that she’s being selfish. And then in the big grand finale, Buck tells her that it doesn’t fucking matter if she doesn’t want Eddie because he does.
Buck really loves him. Holy shit.
And while Buck was fighting on his behalf, Eddie was sitting on a curb imagining what the hell he would do in a world without Buck in it.
Certainly not this.
Eddie hauls Buck towards him by the elbow and snakes his free hand around his waist, pressing a searing kiss to very surprised Buck’s forehead, then his eyelids, and his lips again and again and again until-
“Did you hear that, Eddie? I mean, seriously, what kind of person-”
“I’m really not seeing the problem, mom,” Eddie interrupts flatly, as if he hadn’t just been making out with that kind of person. “Maybe he could’ve used a better variety of curse words, and sure, he got a bit repetitive in places, but I think that’s about the gist of it, don’t you think?”
Buck feigns shock at Eddie’s criticism.
“Edmundo Diaz, how dare you speak to me like that. These people are not a good influence on you. I don’t know who this Evan Buckley person is, but you should go back to hanging out with that nice young man you brought to visit us in El Paso. The one Christopher likes.”
“You mean Buck?” Eddie asks with a smirk. Next to him, he hears a crash where Buck has legitimately fallen off the bed having doubled over with laughter.
“Yes, that was his name. Why don’t you go back to hanging out with him?”
“Mom, I’m going to let you think on that for a minute.You don’t like Evan Buckley, but you just adore Buck, huh?”
From the floor, Buck speaks. “Eddie, I think I’m going to die.” He wheezes. “Like actually, I think I’m going to asphyxiate because I’m laughing too hard.”
Eddie punches the mute button. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Or do you want her to know you’re here?”
Buck makes a zipping-his-lips motion with his fingers and Eddie unmutes them.
“Well then,” his mother is scoffing. “Buck has really taken a turn for the worse.”
“Yeah, okay mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Hey can I ask you where my gift for Chris ended up? I don’t think he got it.”
“Oh, well, Christopher didn’t need-”
Timing too perfect to be coincidental, because Eddie knows his kid and knows he was lurking at the doorframe waiting for his name to be dropped, Chris hollers in the background.
“I found another present!”
Buck scrambles back onto the bed, pressing the entire right side of his body against Eddie.
“Oh, Christopher, baby, that’s a duplicate, you already ha-”
“Yes! The green one!” Chris yelps. There’s a pause. “Wait, who are you talking to? Is that dad?”
Eddie is certain that Chris is playing coy. God, he’s so proud.
“Hi Chris,” Eddie says as loudly as possible, almost certain that his mother does not have him on speakerphone.
“It is dad! Grandma, can I have the phone?”
God bless that child. The one thing that the three adults involved in this conversation have in common is that they can’t say no to Chris, so after a bit of shuffling and the sound of a door closing, Eddie hears his son’s voice clearly.
“Thanks for my headset, dad.” Chris says softly.
Tears spring into Eddie’s eyes. These are words from Chris. For him. Buck squeezes his fingers where they’re linked together.
“You’re so welcome, buddy. We thought you’d like the green one.”
“I got another headset yesterday,” he whispers conspiratorially. “But it was yellow. That would not look good in my room at home.”
Eddie feels like he’s just been punched, but in a good way, if that’s at all possible.
“Wait, dad, did you say we? Is Buck there?” Chris chirps.
Finally, Buck speaks. “Yeah, Chris, I’m here. Your dad and I are safe and sound at home. We’re thinking we might spend the day painting your room lemon yellow. Or maybe a nice chartreuse…” Buck trails off, and Chris is laughing, and Eddie has no idea how his entire life managed to turn around in twelve hours.
“Maybe just some of those glow-in-the-dark stars for my ceiling?” Chris asks.
Eddie laughs because his kid knows exactly how to bend the world to his will, and Eddie is more than willing to yield.
“Sold!” Buck declares, voicing Eddie’s thoughts. “What’s my timeline, kiddo?”
“Um, I don’t know.” Chris sounds shy now, like he’s embarrassed to say the next words. “Maybe- could you- what if-?” He huffs.
“Chris,” Eddie interrupts. “Listen to me. Do you remember what I told you? Five minutes or five months? I still mean it.”
There’s a small noise of relief on the other end of the line, and Buck looks over at Eddie, eyes shining.
“Planes don’t fly fast enough for it to be five minutes,” Chris says simply. “So maybe, I was thinking, maybe you could come get me this weekend? Only if you’re not busy or anything.”
Suddenly Eddie has tears streaming down his face, and when he opens his mouth to respond, nothing comes out.
With one arm wrapped around Eddie, Buck covers for him. “I guess we can cancel brunch with the president to come pick you up,” Buck muses. “I’m sure he’ll understand, what with you being the most important person on earth and all.”
“Buck, you’re so lame,” Chris complains.
“Wow, Chris. Wow. I’m hurt,” Buck teases. “Besides, you gotta save your best stuff to hit your dad with when his tortoise and the hare stuffed animals come in the mail.”
“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Eddie claps a hand over Buck’s mouth, who promptly licks Eddie’s palm, earning himself a soft smack upside the head.
“Chris, we will be there first thing on Saturday morning, okay?”
“With the tortoise and the hare?” Chris giggles.
“Oh good god,” Eddie sighs. “Here we go.”
Here we go indeed.
“Grandma’s going to be mad, isn’t she?” Chris asks slowly.
“She’ll get over it,” Eddie assures him. “She loves you.”
“She loves you too, I think,” Chris tells Eddie. “But it’s not as…obvious as the way you love me, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, buddy.”
Because, for better or worse, love and anger are not mutually exclusive.
“She hates Buck though.”
Both Buck and Eddie burst out laughing.
“Yeah, well, I kinda did that to myself, kid,” Buck admits. “And I’d do it again.”
Eddie turns his head quickly, locking his lips onto Buck’s and nipping at his bottom lip until he earns himself a soft grunt.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Chris asks.
“What do you mean, bud?” Eddie asks, voice an octave higher than normal.
Buck side eyes Eddie. “Did he hear that?” Buck hisses.
“Is it going to be a problem that Grandma hates Buck?” Chris clarifies. Buck sags in relief, and Eddie has to fight back a laugh.
“No way, buddy. He’ll manage to charm her eventually, I bet. But if not, we love him enough to make up for it, don’t you think?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah, we do,” Chris agrees. “Definitely.”
Buck leans into Eddie and whispers into his ear. “You love me enough, period. Full stop, end of sentence.”
“My mom hates you though,” Eddie murmurs back. “You don’t like it when people don’t like you.” Eddie twists his fingers around one of Buck’s curls.
“No, but this one is worth it. Anything I do for you will always be worth it.”
Eddie looks up at Buck, his eyes wide and awestruck.
“You really fucking mean that, don’t you?” He breathes.
Buck nods. “I really fucking do.”
“God, I-”
“Are you guys still there?” Chris pipes up.
Eddie can’t pull his gaze away from Buck. “We’re here,” he manages.
“Do you mind if I go play my game now? Denny set up a multiplayer, and I want to plug in my new headset before it starts.”
“Yeah of course,” Eddie tells him. “Go have fun. We’ll see you soon, okay?”
Chris hums happily. “Okay. I love you, dad. And Buck too, obviously. He’s probably still there.”
“I love you too!” They say in unison.
The call disconnects and Eddie cocks his head at Buck. “You’re really wonderful, you know that?”
Buck grins mischievously. “If I say no, will you say it again?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, do you come with a return policy?”
“I’m non-fucking-refundable, babe,” Buck smirks.
Eddie smiles as he shrugs. “Oh, well, okay then.” Eddie runs a thumb over the curve of Buck’s cheek. “I guess that just means I get to keep you forever then.”
“Only if I can keep you forever too.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Works for me.”
Buck’s arms snake around Eddie’s waist and pull him down with a soft grunt.
Chris is coming home. Buck is here, and Eddie is in his arms.
Eddie wants, and wants, and wants, but he can have it. He does have it. And he’s never going to let it go.