Archive of Our Own

Please join us for a celebration of love,

friendship, laughter and family

For the wedding of

SOPHIA DIAZ & DEVON SADLER

June 15 / 3 o’clock

Dinner & Dancing to follow

“Good morning, Eddie.”

“Good morning? Really?”

Frank clasps his hands together in his lap, eyebrows raising. “Have you not had a good morning?”

“That is what you say after I tell you Buck has a boyfriend?”

Eddie stays with his back straight, pulling at his fingers stressfully. His knee jumps and his foot taps at the hardwood floor, itching to run.

“Well, I didn’t know that meant it was a bad morning. I’ve had a good morning.”

Eddie clenches his jaw. “Sorry. No, yeah, it’s a great morning. The sun is shining and it’s hot as fuck and I have to go to work after this.” Frank smiles, amused. “I’m a little frustrated.”

“Frustrated with me?”

“Myself,” he answers, before thinking it over. “Imagine- you’re friends with someone for seven years- and I mean best friends . They get a boyfriend—and that’s great. But—a couple months before they get this boyfriend, you confess you have feelings for them, except—you guys can’t be together, because you’re so fucked up mentally that you can’t handle it. So you tell them—don’t wait. Be happy. You—you reject them. But stupidly, you don’t think they’ll actually listen to you.

“Well, he did. He—has.”

Frank sympathetically nods, before quietly speaking again. “Let’s look at this way,” he approaches. “This is a great thing you’ve come to understand about yourself, Eddie. You’ve realized your sexuality, your feelings, and you aren’t repressing it anymore. I’m very proud of you for what you’ve accomplished these past couple of months.”

A bitter and throat-burning laugh comes from Eddie’s mouth. “Thanks, Frank. The boyfriend thing really couldn’t have come at a worse time, you know? Now he’s going to a wedding with me-”

“Sorry?”

“Sophia’s. My sister’s. You missed a lot—”

“Our last session was four days ago—”

“I’ll catch you up.”

Three days ago

The invite is slipped into Eddie’s mailbox while he’s on shift, collected when Carla dropped Christopher at home after school, sat crooked under bills and Chris’s house key at the front door.

It waits there unseen for two hours.

Eddie is hanging on and thinking, yes, this is fine, this is a good day. It’s been a good day, Eddie, and then he shuffles through his mail when he gets home after yelling down the hall to make sure Chris is home and everything is shifted and he can no longer confuse his brain into thinking his life isn’t chaos.

Love.

Friendship.

Laughter.

Family.

He looks behind him to his peering best friend, chin almost on Eddie’s shoulder to read the invite. “Devon! Do we like him? He seemed nice.”

Sophia and Devon had heard the news that Eddie was in Texas for work, part of the team fighting the wildfire all those years ago. They walked into the house with bright smiles and found Eddie in the living room with Buck and Hen, the three of them sitting in silence, decompressing from the day. Sophia fell to sit at Eddie’s side and pulled him into a hug, and then said, “Great to meet you all! I’m Sophia, this is Devon-”

“Hi everyone,” Devon said with a small wave, standing against the wall, until Sophia threw a hand out for him to take and brought him into the conversation.

“Nice to meet you guys, I’m Buck.” He got up from the couch on exhausted feet just to shake hands. Hen nodded, held a hand out- introductions were made, small talk given- it was all very dream-ish to Eddie, like his two worlds were colliding in front of him while he was only a bystander.

“Uh- a while ago, yeah. He’s great.”

“Are you two going?” Buck took the invite from Eddie and walked with it to the kitchen, where he placed it against the fridge and stuck a magnet on it.

“Got to, right?”

Sophia has always been, and always will be, a romantic. She read love stories in her room with a light grin on her face, spoke about her partners in high school like their love was unbreakable, in a way that made Eddie almost jealous. He himself had never experienced something as ‘asteroid-striking’ as Sophia had described it, but he listened to her rant about her romance books and movies all the same.

And she talked extensively of her dream wedding. The sage-green dress she was going to wear, because she didn’t want to be basic. The red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, the first dance to Sweet Dreams (Of You) by Patsy Cline even though, “It’s not very romantic, you know? Listen to the lyrics.” It’s what Eddie had said when it played through the static radio of his truck, driving with Sophia to school. She’d turned it up and said longingly, “Oh, but it just sounds so beautiful, doesn’t it, Eddie?”

Eddie has never forgotten it. And that night of her junior prom, when she went with Alex or Alan or- well, Eddie can’t recall his name now, but it isn’t important- it’s what she’d said. It’s what Eddie had promised.

“When I marry him, it’ll be a fairytale. And you’ll be the one to walk me down the aisle.”

“What about Dad?” Eddie asked.

She patted Eddie’s chest, her corsage hitting against him. “You made love real to me, Eddie, not him. It’s gotta be you.”

“Alright,” Eddie whispered. Emotion ate at his words. “It’ll be me, then, Soph.”

So he’s going. He’s going even if the flight is going to be long and his parents will be there.

Chris joins them in the kitchen, standing beside Buck. “Why’re we looking at the fridge?”

Eddie taps the wedding invite.

“We’re going, right?” He asks.

They both look at him for an answer, and Eddie waves a hand at the invitation. “Yeah. We’re going.”

Buck leaves for home after they all eat dinner, and texts Eddie that faithful picture- the one that makes him spiral and want to hit his head on the wall. I’m going, too! He added with the picture.

It’s a picture of a wedding invite.

To Sophia’s wedding.

Eddie stares at the screen. “Shit,” he whispers to himself. Now it’s a problem.

-

“He’ll probably invite Tommy.” Eddie bites at his nails, Frank watching him. “He’s got a plus-one. It’s a wedding, so obviously. You think he’ll invite Tommy? I mean, they’ve only been together for a week, is that too soon?”

“Maybe you should ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, Frank. I ask, and Buck will interpret that as me saying I don’t want Tommy to come. And then Buck will be apologizing a bunch, and—the point is, he overthinks. One question causes an earthquake. I’m not asking. I’ll just find out in two months when we go to the wedding.”

“Let me ask you this. When we talk about Buck and you confronting him about things, you seem to worry more about his feelings than your own. What would happen if, instead of carrying all of this, you decided to have a conversation?”

Eddie shakes his head even before Frank is done talking. “I don’t know. No. When I sprained my ankle, even, I brushed it off. I don’t like doing that to him. I hate seeing him sad, or panicked. If I said I didn’t want Tommy at the wedding? Well, that’s just selfish. And none of my business.”

“What if he didn’t?” Frank simply says. “You seem to know him very well. What if he listens, Eddie? Maybe he wants to hear how you’re feeling.”

“He does. He always does. The problem-” Eddie sighs. “The problem isn’t him. It’s me. I told him to move on. I do this with everyone, though. There’s tension? There’s no need to bring it up constantly and upset someone just because I’m feeling a little down about it.”

Frank puts his notebook down behind him at his desk. “Your feelings are just as valid as anyone else’s in your life. And if I’m remembering correctly, you were more than down when Buck told you he went on a date with Tommy. You’re allowed to feel that way. You can feel more than one thing.”

“If I feel more than one thing,” Eddie says slowly, “then my chest gets tight, and I can’t breathe, and I start panicking, Frank. I don’t want to be jealous. Before I knew I was in love with him, I was more than happy being his best friend, and I just want to be happy for him again. Why can’t I just be happy for him?”

“You seem to be. But you’re also in love with him. The emotions around that are complicated. The important thing is that you let them out, like you’re doing now, in a healthy manner. Even if you don’t tell Buck you’re struggling with this—you could talk to him about other things. The progress you’ve made, for one. Being able to say your sexuality out loud.”

“It’s just hard to say that and not blurt the other stuff.”

He shrugs. “Maybe it’s worth blurting.”

“Frank .”

“I know. I respect that you don’t want to bring it up again, Eddie. You just should know that you have that option. It isn’t gone because he’s in a relationship.”

Eddie looks down. “I don’t want to cause that confusion for him.”

“It’s not just about him, as we’ve discussed. You’re a part of this, Eddie. I know you love him, and you want only the best for him-”

“I do. I always have.”

“But it’s okay to be selfish sometimes.”

“Yeah. I just don’t think he’d be very happy with me if I told him again that I have feelings. Especially with him in a new relationship.”

Patiently, Frank nods. “I’m here to support you, Eddie. Whatever you’d like to do- let’s talk about it.”

—

Buck is propped in front of his Jeep when Eddie walks out of therapy, standing across the street. Sunglasses block his eyes from the morning sun, moved up his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

“Aye. No coffee?” 

Buck pockets the phone, smirking and crossing his arms. “It’s in the car. Need a second cup already?”

Eddie shrugs. He’d filled up a mug this morning with black coffee, drinking it in big sips as he got dressed and Buck helped out with Chris. His therapy sessions are scheduled pretty close together, and more often than not he gets the shitty early times, where he has to spend what would be his hour of free time in the morning getting ready to go to therapy instead of helping Chris get prepared for school. 

Buck’s been coming over the days Carla can’t, saving Eddie an extra pancake and coffee, packing up Chris’s homework he’s always too tired to put back himself, getting more and more in the habit of staying up late working. Eddie was the same way as a teenager.

“Chris get to school okay?”

Eddie hops in the car, grabbing his coffee and blowing at the steam. Buck presses at a button near the radio to make the air conditioner flow through the car, turning on some music while he’s at it. 

“Well, he was rushing to check over his math in the car. Said he didn’t even remember doing it the night before.”

“I asked him about homework. He said he didn’t have any.”

“Mr. Sorano always gives homework, though.”

“Hard-ass.”

“Agreed. Chris told me he barely even teaches. Just throws the kids work.”

“Lazy hard-ass.”

A smile transforms his face, twitching at the lines around his mouth. “I take it Frank pissed you off?”

“Nah, man.” He drinks his coffee. It tingles on his tongue and burns at the roof of his mouth.

“Well someone did, and you’ve only talked to three people today.”

“Four, actually. The receptionist hates me. Won’t schedule me on Wednesday’s or Friday’s- my actual days off- and I start my day talkin’ about my feelings.”

“Least we both get an excuse to come into work an hour late.”

Eddie hums. “Hey, you know I can drive myself to therapy? If you don’t wanna be late and all. I still need you to take Chris, but-“

“Eddie, come on, man. I don’t care. I like helping you guys out. Besides, Chris says you drive like a grandma. With my influence, neither of you have been late.”

“I don’t drive like a grandma. It’s called road laws. Taking my time. And he only says that because Jason’s dad has a Mustang and he thinks it's cooler than my truck.”

Jason is one of Chris’s new friends- could talk Eddie’s ear off about cars and motorcycles and tell him the make and model of anything on the road- and has, actually, when he picked both him and Chris up from school on a sleepover day. 

“To be fair, it is cooler.”

“Buck!” Eddie hits his shoulder, light.

“What! It’s true.”

“I know, but you’re supposed to say, ‘No, man, your truck is badass, he’s got nothing on you.’”

“See, that would just be a flat-out lie. We don’t lie to each other. I’m a loyal friend. Keeping it real.”

We don’t lie to each other. Eddie could make that a full truth and say, I don’t want you to be with him, but I can’t be with you, and really, I’m at a loss here, all I really know is that I love you, and it only gets stronger by the day.

For the sake of their honesty rule, of course.

“It hurts, Buck.”

“Oh, you’ll get over it. Just wait till Jason’s dad stalls it out too much. He can’t drive stick to save his life.”

“And how would you know that?”

“What, you don’t watch him pulling up? He’s constantly on the clutch. Give it another month.”

“Then my truck will be cool again?”

Buck pats his shoulder, watching the road. “Sure, man. Real cool.”

—

“Eddie, what’s this about your sister getting married ?” Chim asks, as soon as Eddie gets up to the loft, heading to microwave his coffee. Buck winces guiltily. It’s not as if it’s some big secret, but Eddie knows they’re going to ask an absurd amount of questions of who the guy is and what Eddie’s going to do and sometimes (like today, after therapy) he doesn’t feel like talking.

“I told him,” Buck answers. “I asked Hen if she wanted to come since her and Sophia seemed to hit it off—“

He asked Hen. “You asked Hen?”

“He did,” Hen says, appearing at his side. She searches the fridge for a bottle of water. “Can’t take off work, though. Sorry, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Chim? Plus one?”

“I feel so cherished as your friend, Buck. Wow. Movin’ on in a split second,” Hen says. Buck goes red. 

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that- Eddie, did I mean it like that?”

Eddie shrugs, hiding a smile. “I don’t know. Did you?”

“No! I just need a plus one.”

“Why? I’ll be there, Chris’ll be there, we’ll just all hang out together.”

Buck points at him. “No, see, because you guys will be busy taking family pictures and being in the party, and I’ll have to sit alone and everyone will stare.”

“Everyone will not stare. And we won’t leave you in the dust like that. Chris will probably try to persuade you to get him out of pictures, anyway.”

Buck follows him as he walks to the couch, bumping at his shoulder. “Maybe I should ask Maddie. Or Tommy.”

No. “Buck. I will not leave you to the wolves, okay? I’ll be by your side the entire time, except for the first ten minutes.”

The bell goes off then, before Eddie can place his hand to his spot on Buck’s shoulder. They all run for the engine, jumping into their respective spots. They meet Bobby and Ravi there, headsets going over their ears. Buck waits a couple minutes before continuing the conversation from before. Eddie smiles fondly and sits his head back on his seat. 

“God, see? You’re in the wedding party,” Buck starts, not missing a beat. 

“I’m walking Soph down the aisle. Kinda an important role. Can’t ditch that.”

Buck’s eyes go wide. “N-no, no, God, no, that’s- big, wow. No, Eddie, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll sit with Chris, you do your thing.”

“Yeah, try to stop my dad from glaring at me on the way down, maybe? He’s a little uhm- betrayed? ”

“Family drama. I’m good at this. Tell your dad you’re dying, and this was your final wish,” Chim says, nodding along with his own answer. 

Hen rolls her eyes, smiling. “Or just avoid all eye contact and push through for your sister.”

Eddie pulls a thumbs up. “Good idea.”

“That makes it sound like he’s a bear that can’t be spooked,” Ravi says into his mic, looking around at the team, still shy to contribute.

“He sorta is. One wrong word and bam, domino effect. Whole thing is ruined.”

“Well now I kinda wanna go,” Hen says. 

Buck throws his hands out. “Uh, no! You already ditched me. No take backs.”

“You were just complaining about not having a plus-one.”

“Well now I have Eddie’s word he won’t leave me. I’m good. You work since it’s so important.”

“We are saving lives-“ Ravi starts, before Hen interrupts.

“Thank you! Buck, you wanna say saving lives isn’t important work?” Hen teases, sitting her chin against her fist. 

Buck stutters. “W-well, not- exactly . . .”

“She gets what you mean, Buck,” Eddie assures, nodding his head when he meets his eyes.

“Alright, we’re here. Let’s go do our important work, now,” Bobby says.

They all wince and take off their headsets. 

—

Eddie rides in with Buck, so he rides home with him. It’s silent for the first twenty minutes, both of them decompressing in their own ways. Buck, by running his hands up and down the steering wheel, head leaning back on the rest, fingers tapping lazily to the music. Eddie, by watching out the window, staring at the passing buildings, listening close for Buck’s breath, tossing one of the toy duck’s in his hands that usually sits on the dashboard of the jeep.

“Will you stay at a hotel?”

Eddie squints, eyes adjusting from the sun gazing into the brightness of the car. “Hmm?”

“For Sophia’s wedding?”

“Oh,” he says. He hadn’t thought it out yet. Was too busy thinking of Buck inviting Tommy, Sophia’s texting about did you get the invite, is Chris coming, what are you wearing, and therapy. “Not sure. Probably. Depends how long we’re staying.”

Buck taps, taps, taps against the steering wheel. “If you want, we could go half on a room? Leave early on Thursday?”

“You’ve got it all planned out,” he says softly.

“I like a plan.”

“I know you do. Me too.” Eddie thinks it out- They could leave on Thursday, stay all of Saturday for the wedding, go for breakfast early that Sunday, and head for the airport. “Sounds great, Buck. As long as the hotel’s got a pool and Wi-Fi, Chris will be good.”

“No requirements for you?”

Eddie turns towards Buck. “Free breakfast?”

“Obviously.”

“Close to the venue.”

“Oh!” Buck points at him. “Hadn’t thought of that. Smart. Wait, does Chris know I’m coming?”

“You can come in for breakfast? Tell him before he’s gotta go to school.”

He grins. “Carla taking him?”

Eddie begins to say yes- but stops. “You can if you want to. I know you like. . getting that time. With him.”

Buck’s cheeks color close to a dark pink. “He’s funny in the mornings. All grumpy and sarcastic like you.”

Eddie laughs, warmth blooming at his heart for his son. Chris tolerates absolutely no loud noises in the mornings, or cheeriness- groaning when Eddie knocks on his door for the fifth time to wake him up.

“You take him, then. If you aren’t too exhausted.”

He whips his head toward Eddie before his eyes revert back to in front of him. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not? He says he’s getting too old for Carla to be with him the whole time we’re on shift, anyway. He’d love that.”

Buck shifts in his seat, looking between Eddie and the road. “So I could- I could take him everyday?”

It’s the most Eddie can give him without saying what he wants to. He cannot confess about his love, so—he gives him his son. And the two are basically the same thing when it comes down to it. “If we aren’t working, yeah. I’m sure he’d agree.”

They pull into Eddie’s driveway, but Buck doesn’t get out. “I know it’s like- one thing, but- I promise I’ll take care of him, you know? And- thank you. For letting me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Not a hard decision. I trust you. He trusts you. Like having you around- a lot.” It’s a big admittance. Maybe too much. “Besides, saves me from having to drive so much.”

“And Chris from being late? Since you go ten miles under the speed limit?”

“Ten’s an exaggeration.” Buck tilts his head. Narrows his eyes. “Okay, five. It’s called being cautious. Just- get in the house, would you? Kid’s gotta leave in thirty.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Will do.”

—

They find Chris in the kitchen, eating eggs and texting someone on his phone at the same time. Carla’s at the counter, packing up her laptop into her purse.

“Morning, buddy. I brought Buck. Hey, Carla.” Eddie walks up behind his seat, leaning down to press a kiss in his hair that Chris shrugs off. He accepts the side-hug Eddie gives though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Morning, you two. I was just about to get this one in the car.”

“Oh, Buck can take him. You go ahead home. Thanks for staying with him.”

Carla smiles, pushes her purse up her arm. “I’ll see you all on Monday, then.”

Chris waves her way, eats a forkful of eggs. “Good, you’re here,” he says, looking at Buck. “You can read my history paper real quick.” He points to his backpack. Buck places a hand on his shoulder as a greeting before unzipping the bag and finding the binder he has for history.

“Finish this yesterday?”

Chris nods his head, focused on his phone.

“At 11 o’clock?”

He looks up. “Maybe.”

Eddie gives a look to Buck. “And I bet you’re about to fall in your eggs, huh?” 

“I’m fine. At least it’s done.”

Buck finishes up reviewing it quickly, neatly placing it back onto his binder. “Yeah, it sounds good, man. And- you know your dad’s right. It sucks going to school after staying up all night.”

“Maybe I should stay home then,” Chris tiredly says, resting his cheek to his fist. Eddie can’t tell if he’s playing it up or is actually this tired- either way, it’s working at convincing him to give in.

“Take a nap in the car. We gotta go if you’re gonna make it with some time to spare.”

Chris gets up, and Eddie pulls him into his side, shaking at his shoulders. “That help?” he asks after stopping. Chris shakes his head no. “Nap in the car, then. Like Buck said.”

“Ready to go?” Buck tilts his head towards the door, holding Chris’s bag on his shoulder.

“I guess so. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, buddy! Love ya.”

“See you later?” Buck asks towards Eddie, walking backwards slowly to the door.

“Course. Gonna sleep for a while, though.”

“Text me then, kay? Bye!”

Even after the door is shut, Eddie still says goodbye.

—

[8:46 A.M.] Buck: 

Told Chris I’m coming to the wedding. think he was too tired to be excited

Gonna sleep too now. Dropped him off safe 👍

[1:52 P.M.] Eddie:

Just woke up

Thank you for taking him

[1:59 P.M.] Buck:

Can pick him up if you want?

I’ll bring you food ..

[2:05 P.M.] Eddie:

I know he’s probably hungry too 

That would be great man

[2:08] Buck:

See you in an hour then 😊

with food!

Eddie gets showered and changed, washing off the midday nap and the shift his night before. He gets started on laundry when he fully wakes up, emptying out hampers and taking an unfolded basket to the living room, where he sits it on the coffee table.

Sophia calls him on his way to the kitchen.

“Buck RSVP’d,” she starts with.

“Yeah, he’s coming.”

“So he is,” she says, and Eddie can tell by her tone she’s not just going to leave it at that. “And no plus one. Oh, and he chose the vegan option for dinner—“

“Gonna tell me what color his suit’s gonna be, too?”

“As long as it isn’t white. That’s what Dev is wearing.”

“I’ll be sure to deliver the news.”

“What a good boyfriend you are- I mean friend.”

Eddie groans. There it is. “ Sophia. I told you that in confidence.”

“That you’re in love with him ?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, no, Eddie! You know what I mean, I’m just teasing!”

It was a moment of weakness when he called her that night, the same one he’d blown everything up and thought he’d ruined it all. He was slowly telling her all about it through tears and a lot of calling himself an idiot, but she stayed on the phone with him the whole time. While their relationship wasn’t as close as it once was, that call had somewhat repaired what was broken. They now talked more than they had since Eddie moved to California.

“Well, stop. You need something?”

“Uhm, yeah, your RSVP. I thought you sent it back?”

The note still sits on his countertop, unopened. “Oh- shit. I forgot-“

“Eddie!”

“Sorry. It’ll go out tomorrow.” She groans. “Are you. . okay?”

“What, me? I’m fine. I’m planning a wedding within two months, Devon is in the middle of residency, Mom’s driving me up a wall, Adriana keeps coming to me for help with college applications-“

“So not busy at all.”

“Exactly. You?”

“I’m folding laundry. Buck is picking up Chris, bringing food-“

“Don’t you have it made. Got a husband even when you rejected him.”

A part of him wants to say, too soon, but he doesn’t. “I really shouldn’t have told you-“

“But you did. And if I get an opinion-“

“You don’t.”

“I think you should do a grand gesture. Super romantic with candles and a dance number—you’re a great dancer—maybe some music—“

“Vetoing all of that right now.”

“ Fine. As long as you don’t pull something at my wedding. That’s my day. And you know I’m all for you getting your happily ever after, I love love! But either tell him now or wait until after.”

The sternness in her voice tells him everything. She’ll probably be staring him down at the reception—that is, when she isn’t busy being newly married. “I won’t tell him.”

“At my wedding? Can I get that in writing?”

“No, Soph. I’m not telling him ever .”

Eddie hears something slam down. Could be her laptop screen. He checks the time, and, yeah—she’s at work right now. “Edmundo Diaz. You can’t not tell him. One, he’s tall. Two, he’s good to you. You were asleep on the couch and he got you a damn pillow and blanket like you were in your sickbed. Three, he personally called me when you were shot and bought me and our parents and Adriana plane tickets out there. No man that doesn’t love you back would do all that. He deserves to know. You deserve to tell him. Don’t be an idiot, Eddie. Again .”

She’s right. Frank is right. But they didn’t see the amount of hurt on Buck’s face when he’d rejected him. They didn’t deal with the awkwardness for two months after that even now comes back if they’re left alone together for too long. “What, you’re getting married, now you’re a love guru?”

“Can you be serious for two seconds?”

“I’ll get you a lame gift if you don’t stop.”

“ Fine . I’m calling you back tonight, though. If you don’t answer I’ll just assume you’re occupied with Buuuck-“

“So immature. Good bye , Sophia!”

“Love you, too!”

—

“Seventy-two percent,” is the first thing that Chris says when he slumps down on the couch in the living room. Eddie gives Buck a worried look.

“Seventy-two percent of what?” He asks. He stops with the laundry, focusing his attention onto him, the way his shoulders are caved frontwards.

“My grade in math. Sorano hates me.”

“Buddy, that’s a great grade. You’re doing as well as you can and you’re working hard. That’s what matters.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Buck says, sitting on the loveseat next to Eddie.

“You don’t think a seventy-two is fair?”

“Not when the reason my grade’s going down is ‘participation in class.’ He’s such an as-“

“Language, Christopher,” Eddie firmly says.

“Sorry. I’m just- frustrated. So what if I don't like raising my hand? I don’t get why I lose points for that.”

Buck gets out the food, handing Chris his burrito. “Some teachers think it’s important. It’s to socialize the kids, build confidence, that sort of thing.”

“Well, it’s dumb. I’m social enough.”

“Eat your food. Decompress.”

“Yeah, you’re home now, okay? You don’t need to worry about that here. We’re proud of you. Know my average grade in math? All through school? A D .”

“Mine was a D, too.” Eddie remembers the story of how he’d call Maddie in the middle of the night, reading equations to her over the phone. “ See ? You’re a math wiz compared to us.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, guys. And thanks for the food, Buck. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

“You won’t be able to sleep tonight!” Eddie yells after him, as he goes down the hall to his room. 

“I could sleep for a whole week!” He yells back. 

When his door shuts, Buck says quietly, “Should we worry about that?”

“His math grade?”

“No, he- he’s just putting a lot of pressure on himself, you know? Staying up late to study and finish work, agitated- I know he- he had anxiety attacks when he was younger. . .”

Eddie nods. Feels more anxious at the reminder. “I’m worried, too. About those coming back. He does seem to be under a lot of stress, and- I try to make sure he’s in bed before I turn in, but I’m also trying not to hover? I don’t know. I don’t want him to feel like this, man. He’s only fourteen.”

Buck looks off in thought. “Maybe we should all do something together. Take his mind off it. Like over the weekend? Change of pace could get him out of his head, give him a break.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Not sure. I can text you if I come up with something? Or you, me?”

“You’re leaving?” Eddie sits straighter.

“Uh- gonna go meet up with Tommy.”

“Oh.” Disappointment floods with the word before he can stop it. It’s awkward for Buck, too. He averts his eyes. “Uh- have. . . fun, then.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t want to leave it like that. “Hey, you comin’ early tomorrow? Breakfast and take him to school before work?”

It brightens him up a bit. “I— yes. I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Eddie imagines what they’d do here if they were together. For one, Buck wouldn’t be leaving to go see another man. Maybe he’d be going to work. Eddie would kiss his cheek, probably. For good luck. Not that he needs it. And he would hug him, too. Buck is a great hugger. And he’d text him to get there safe when he’d close the door, because he couldn’t wait to start missing him. “Bye.”

“Bye, man. Gonna go say bye to him real quick, too.”

He heads in the direction of Chris’s room. Eddie tries not to listen in, but he can’t help but hear.

“Hey, I’m heading out. Need anything?”

Muffled, Chris says, “I’m okay. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Sure will. See you then, alright? Text or call if you need me.”

—

Four days later 

“They went on a date.” Eddie rolls his eyes when he says it. “A date he told me about five minutes before he left to go on it.”

“Are we talking about Buck?”

Again? Eddie hears the unspoken question.

“Yeah. Him and Tommy. Some restaurant downtown I guess. I couldn’t get many details out of him. He’s worried about Chris. So am I, you know, but Buck has that similar anxiety to him, and I think it’s getting to him a lot.”

Frank places his notebook on the table beside him, then leans in. “Are his anxiety attacks back?”

“Uh, no- not yet, at least. I mean, I’d like to eliminate the chance of them coming back at all, but I don’t- I don’t think I can. He’s just so worried about school, all of the time.”

“Have you asked him about it? Gotten him to open up?”

“A little. The key is three things- me being at home, some good food, and Buck around. Think he likes Buck there ‘cause he thinks it’ll stop me from, like, going into action mode immediately and hugging him. It usually doesn’t.”

It’s through Eddie’s worried ramblings that he’d found out Frank is a dad, too. He hasn’t told him directly, but Eddie would bet money on it. The concerned looks and specific advice is too real for him to not be. “Well, we as parents worry. A lot. Sometimes we can’t help but overcompensate and try to fix things right there.”

See? One day he’ll ask, but he isn’t sure if you’re allowed to do that with therapists. Know them. Eddie just comes in, talks about his latest worry, and leaves. But he wants to ask. “Exactly. That’s how I get. I never got the chance to be around when his first tooth fell out, or when he had his first scare and had to go to the ER. I couldn’t help. I- I sent money, but that’s not the same. Now it’s like- even if he has just a little problem with one teacher, I wanna storm the school and get ‘em to fire the guy.”

“You did miss some things. But you’re here with him now. Here to stay. It’s hard to see where you should step in, and when you should step back, but you and Christopher have a good and open line of communication. It’s more than likely that if he needs your help, he’ll ask for it.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. But there’s also been situations where he’s hid how he’s feeling from me. And the worst thing is I didn’t catch it, and I should have. I can’t do that again. He’s- he’s growing up, and he’s changing, and- he’s in that part of his life where he wants privacy and doesn’t want to come to dad every time he’s upset.”

“What about Buck? They’re still close?”

“Closer every day. That’s what I like to hang on to. If he isn’t comfortable coming to me, I know it’s usually Buck. And- he won’t tell me everything Chris says, but he always assures me if it was serious, he’d tell me immediately. I try and let them have their- I don’t wanna say secrets, but- their own thing? But it’s hard.”

“That’s understandable. You wanna know his every thought. I know it was a difficult time for you when he was having his nightmares and wouldn’t open up. Does this feel similar at all?”

Jesus. Eddie forgets sometimes how much he’s told him. And Frank can just bring it up, and make Eddie realize right there everything he’s actually worrying about, and it shocks him into a stuttering mess. “A little? Back then he was- he was confused. Scared. He’d just lost his mom. There was all this grief, and- I couldn’t see through it. It was like I was trying to lead him, but not even I knew where we were going. Now, I can understand it a little more. Like, I get school stress, and the panic, and nightmares, and- maybe that’s the problem? I know how he feels and it’s terrible. I don’t want him in that. I wanna pull him out, but I can’t.”

The realization hits him hard and sudden. Tears that threatened to fall finally do, from his eyes down his cheeks. “ Fuck, sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I just hate feeling so- so helpless.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re allowed to cry, because it is upsetting. It’s upsetting when we can’t just fix a problem because we love someone. It can, eventually, make us feel helpless. But the thing is, you are helping. By making sure he knows you’re there for him, and that he has that secondary support in Buck, and listening to him whenever he does want to talk, you’re helping. Sometimes all we can do is just be there.”

“God, I hate this. This sucks.”

“Should we switch topics for a minute?”

“Yes, please.”

—

Buck is there when he exits the building. His eyes are still reddened and he feels like his heart is hollowed out and bleeding dry. He almost sighs in relief when he sees Buck with coffee in his hand, leaning on the jeep and staring at his phone.

He’s- there. He’s just there and he lets Eddie be there and it punches him in the gut how much he loves him for it.

“Hey! I got you coffee, even though I think I’m enabling a caffeine addiction here?”

Eddie- laughs. Wants to say, I love you so much. He takes the coffee instead, holding it close to his chest. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“For bringing coffee?” He jokes. Eddie tears up again. Damn it, Frank. “Hey,” he whispers. It forces Eddie to look up. “Rough session?”

Eddie nods stiffly, can’t talk- his voice will break, the tears will come, he already knows.

“Do you. . . want a hug?”

Eddie feels like a kid when he nods again, but Buck only offers him a sweet smile with his arms held out.

Eddie places the coffee on the roof of the jeep and travels his arms around Buck’s waist, head falling onto his chest, protected there in his steady hold. It’s been so long since they’ve done this. Too long.

“Hey,” Buck says softly and sweetly into his hair, drawing it out, fingers moving up and down his back. “It’s okay. Everyone and everything is okay. There’s nothing to worry about.”

It only makes Eddie’s emotions fall stronger. He can’t tell him, and he wants to, and everything is- terrible. He just loves him, and he wants him like this all the time, in his arms, but he can’t have that. He hugs him tighter. “I’m sorry. Therapy sucks. It really sucks.”

“Do you just- wanna ditch today? Go on top of a mountain and scream? Go catch a movie? What do you want to do? I’ll make it happen.”

He finally pulls back, hand resting at the back of his own neck. “Honestly? I wanna go take Chris out of school, and we can just drive to the beach, but I know that’s- that’s ridiculous, right?”

Buck taps his chin. “That isn’t ridiculous, Eddie. Sounds really great, actually.”

“Really?”

Buck shrugs. “Your call. I’m down for whatever.”

He can’t work like this. Or even think properly. Or safely hold the life of another in his hands. And God knows Chris could use the break from the nonstop week at school he’s had with long papers and his math teacher. If they’re quick, they can pick him up before that class even starts. “Let’s go get him, then.”

-

Eddie hesitates at the reason for dismissal line for two seconds before jotting down Dentist. The most generic reason he could’ve given. The secretary calls his class and tells him he’ll be just a second.

Eddie stands in the hall with Buck, eyes closed and leaned up against the brick wall. “Is this bad parenting?”

“What? No. I’m sure lots of parents take their kids out of school just to go to the beach.”

“Even if it’s for completely selfish reasons? Like a pickup after therapy? Most people would just call off work.”

“We did call off work,” Buck points out. “And it isn’t selfish. It’s called a mental health day. We are all taking. . a mental health day. It’s fine.”

“Dad? Buck?” 

When Chris comes from down the hall, Eddie goes towards him immediately. He hugs him like he’s wanted to all day, all year, all his life. 

“What’s wrong? Did someone die?”

“What?! No!” Buck joins in on the hug. “You have a dentist appointment!”

“I went to the dentist last month.”

“Shit, you did?” Eddie thinks of the receptionist's hesitation to call for Chris. Well. Now all the office ladies know he was lying. Probably not a good mark to have. Good thing Chris is going to high school next year and he’ll start fresh with his reputation. “You did. ”

“Language,” Chris remarks. “I did. I’m going again?”

“No, but that’s what you’ll tell your teachers,” Eddie says. 

“We’re actually going to get some snacks, some towels, and then spend the day at the beach.”

He stops in his tracks, almost out of the door. “What about work?”

“We called off.”

“This is. . . kinda suspicious.”

Eddie settles for telling the truth. “Therapy sucked,” he admits. “I need the rest of the day with my son and the ocean and maybe a good book.”

“And me,” Buck adds in.

“Definitely a bonus,” he says. “You game, Chris?”

“Why not,” he answers. “Better than spending all day here.”

That sends flags up in Eddie’s head right out. Even if he does have one class he’s frustrated in, he’s always loved school. He loves gaining new knowledge and using it and studying to hone it. He’s never been one of those kids that plays hooky or lets missing work go. He closes Chris’s door, gives Buck a look that reads, That’s bad, right?

Buck nods, jaw sharp. “Should we ask?”

“Maybe,” Eddie quickly says. “Not now, though. Later.”

He rounds the car, getting into the passenger seat. Buck is in the driver’s a second later, cranking up the AC. “To the beach we go.”

—

Eddie is a light sleeper. It doesn’t come without its issues; waking up to the mere sound of wind whistling a bit too loud, jolting awake when he hears the shut of the front door when Buck is coming home after a night shift. 

He tries his very best to stay quiet on his way in, sometimes even comes through the back door because the front squeaks—yes, yes, Eddie knows it squeaks—he’s fixing it soon. It’s only an impossible task for Eddie to not wake up, because his brain has been set to power on at the slightest disturbance, no matter how harmless it turns out to be.

It’s why he can’t get to bed when it’s storming outside, or when Chris has friends over and they stay up late into the night, laughing and traversing to the kitchen for snacks past 12 o’clock. (Eddie doesn’t exactly allow them to stay up this long, he tells them to sleep, but they’re teenagers, and it's the weekend, and they pass out eventually.)

It comes with it’s faults. But, it comes with its benefits, as well. Such as those times where Buck comes into the house late at night and he’s exhausted and needs a hug or medicine but can’t (won't) get up again. He also sometimes gets to watch the sun rise on the front porch, or make his family breakfast, which is almost always an event that warrants that extra hour to perform.

And there’s this benefit—well, Eddie hates calling it that, but. . .? This benefit that he wakes up when Chris has a nightmare, or anxiety keeps him up. As he gets older, he’s transformed from being able to go right back to bed with a hug to staying up two or three hours later and watching television in the living room, or if it’s that kind of brain-eating anxiety that won’t fade, he gets his backpack and studies, which is the worst kind.

It’s actually a problem they’ve had to discuss. Nighttime is for sleeping and relaxing, daytime is for school and worries. Both can’t intercept, otherwise you have a straining problem. It’s one that Chris has had the entire school year.

The nightmares and anxiety are less terrifying for him, and more of an annoying thing that takes away his ability to sleep. They’d gotten him to a doctor and a therapist, but it hasn’t been too long since those things, and so the effects haven’t hit yet.

Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s passed his own issues onto him with sleeping, even though their reasonings are different.

It’s April, and so it’s near ‘finals time’, as Chris calls it. That time where kids should get to be excited for the summer break, and are instead focused on passing their classes and studying.

Somehow, that strive inside of Chris has gotten worse. That need to succeed, that kind of school stress that is morphed and clinging to his every thought. He can’t even focus at dinner, or when they all go and spend a day at the beach.

He’s in his room, sitting over his school books as soon as they arrive home. Eddie wants to hurry out the door and stop Buck before he pulls out of the driveway, have him talk to him, because when Eddie tries to, he doesn’t open up about it. He’s nice about it, of course, tells him he’s okay and not to worry, but—he really doesn’t know where to go from this. It isn’t as if he can tell him to not study. He needs to set the rules more firmly. He feels unsteady trying to tell him so without Buck there. He doesn’t know when that happened, when he went from confident in being a single dad back to the way he felt when Shannon left. He became used to relying on Buck for help, he supposes. But in those waves of unsteadiness within their relationship that Eddie had created, it stunted this—how they parent together. 

It’s probably the worst part of it all. The thing he regrets most. The thing he can’t change.

—

Buck picks them up early, healthy smoothies in hand, and a breakfast sandwich for Chris to have before school. He walks in without knocking, casual, normal, saying hi, and everything is fine. He even jokes around with Eddie and asks him to double-check that he has everything for today.

Today, which will include them hiking together. They haven’t gone in months. It’s a secluded activity. It’s one you can avoid talking with pretty well, that is, if the paths are complicated, but neither of them ever have the correct schedules for it. So hiking, along with hanging out after Chris goes to sleep has basically stalled.

It’s weird because—they never talk about it. They never bring up what Eddie had said. It was one and done. As if Buck couldn’t keep revisiting the refusal, and Eddie couldn’t make him—he didn’t want to. All it did was cause a few weeks of no talking, and then—the awkwardness.

But Chris has caught on to it, how they don’t talk to each other directly sometimes or avoid eye contact. And when that happened—that sudden question when they were having dinner together of, Are you guys fighting? They knew they had to do something about it. 

Sometimes they’re okay. Well, Eddie thinks they are. Those days after therapy where Buck is extra sweet on him, brings him food and checks on him if they have work. Or when they have Chris with them. 

It’s created a rift there, between them. Eddie is less enthused to ask Buck for help or advice if he needs it, and he fucking hates that. Because Buck would. But Eddie just can’t. He sometimes just doesn’t feel deserving of his words.

He wants them to be able to take care of Chris and not have this between them. It’s something he stupidly hadn’t thought out before impulsively telling Buck about how he felt. So now, he’s trying to put work into fixing it. The hiking was Frank's idea, really. Eddie thought it was a dumb idea at first, because, shouldn’t he just say how he’s feeling? But they both know he isn’t too great at that, so the idea for a hike was born. 

—

“Can we have some music that’s not AC/DC or—what is this? The Strokes?” Buck tries to read what the radio says, but the sun is glaring down, and the visors are barely help. 

“The fucking Strokes, man. No. It’s The Killers.”

“Always get those confused. Anyway, play something else. You’re killing me.” He takes his sunglasses out of the console, and puts them on. 

“Can I get a specific song, or?”

“Nah, I just wanted to complain.” He smirks, then waves a hand. “Beach Boys.”

“Beach Boys?”

“We always do Beach Boys when we’re goin’ on a hike.” Eddie shakes his head adoringly, but Buck reads it as a protest. “What?”

“I’m just imagining you living in Peru and thinking how fuckin’ cool you are, playing Beach Boys on your little radio at that tiki bar.”

Buck laughs, speaking through little bursts of happiness. “First of all, I was cool. And second of all, Beach Boys was on theme. It was at a beach. People liked it. You don’t know how many regulars I had.”

“You mean surfers? You were on a beach. People weren’t coming for you and your frosted tips.”

He groans, but Eddie smiles, remembering the day he saw that photo, and hasn’t stopped teasing Buck for it since. “Maddie, man. I don’t know why she showed everyone that stupid picture. I can’t escape it.”

“Why’d you do that to yourself—“

Buck’s face colors red. He messes with the volume of the radio. “Just—I don’t know. Just play a song, would you? Come on.”

“Alright, calm down. I’ll play your damn Beach Boys.”

As he scrolls through their top hits, Buck’s phone starts vibrating from the cupholder, but he can’t look at it. Roads are too rocky, and anyway, he has a strict no-phone policy when he’s behind the wheel. 

“Want me to check that?”

Quickly, he says, “No. No, it’s fine.” But his shoulders set with tension after, and he barely relaxes. Eddie’s not sure why, but it feels like one of those things he isn’t allowed to ask after. Not now. Not with how they are.

—

“Beautiful.” At the ledge of the mountain, rocks border you off from the drop. The sun hits the surface of them, highlighting the graffiti in variations of colors, painted on these rocks through decades. He thinks Buck will love it, to analyze what each initial and date means. He looks to see if he’s fixated on anything, but he isn’t even beside him. He’s standing back, holding his phone in his hand. Eddie sighs. “What is so important, man? Is something happening with your sister, or?”

He looks up and puts it away, almost guilty at being caught. “No. Nothing. It’s dumb.”

“If it’s getting to you this much, it probably isn’t.”

He comes beside Eddie, glancing at the rocks, but he isn’t trying to figure anything out, tell Eddie the stories he thinks are behind the marks—he’s looking through them. Distracted. “It’s just . . . Tommy.”

Eddie has to hold back a groan. He’s trying to be—respectful? It’s a thin string for the guy, but. “That’s what’s keeping your eyes glued to that thing?”

Buck holds his hands tightly to the guardrail in front of the rocks, his shoulders raised. “He—he might’ve broken up with me. Last night. Whatever, I shouldn’t be trying to text him so much.”

“How come?” Even though he hasn’t been the best with asking about Buck’s . . . relationship, he remembers they’re supposed to be normal now, whatever that’s supposed to mean. But Buck shakes his head, keeping the reason to himself. “Oh, come on. You’ve spent this whole time worrying over it, you can’t tell me why?”

“I don’t think you’d wanna hear it, Eddie.” He says it quietly, and maybe this should’ve been Eddie’s biggest subtle warning to back off, but he doesn’t. 

“Why not? Is it embarrassing or something?”

Hesitantly, he says, “Not exactly.”

“Then . . .?”

“It’s about you,” he answers, and Eddie runs cold, fear rattling through his body. 

“What—what about me?”

“He asked if we used to have something. I told him the truth.”

Eddie nods, but he’s barely present anymore. Just facing this and hoping through it all that it isn’t real, even though he knows it is. “And what is the truth, Buck?”

“That we almost did. That you wanted it, and changed your mind, and told me to get over you.”

Buck knows he didn’t just change his mind. That it is far more complicated than that. But Eddie doesn’t take the bate. It will end with the statement of, I wish you’d never said anything in the first place. Like it had that night. And, more than anything, Eddie does not want to hear the regret. “Guess he didn’t like that.”

“No.” He taps at his arms. “And he didn’t like it even more that I got into a relationship with him so I could stop thinking about you.” Eddie looks away from him quickly, wishing he hadn’t—wishing he had been more pushy about not saying anything. “But I told him it wasn’t that anymore. I actually—I started liking him. I’m just trying to explain, and he isn’t listening.”

Eddie readjusts, shifting his feet. “You still wanna be with him.”

“Maybe,” Buck says, a hint of a question there. 

“Romantic.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, you don’t get a say. Not anymore.”

Eddie accepts it painfully, smiling something awful and guarding. “You know, you’re right. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Good,” he answers. “‘Cause I don’t wanna tell you.”

“Fine.” And they should leave it at that. But jealousy has been the thing clinging tight to him for a month, and he’s no sooner letting it go than he was when they were still together. “Cause my opinion would be, stop trying, it won’t last.”

Buck says in a louder voice, “And I wouldn’t listen.”

“Because I’m wrong, or because you’re pissed?”

“Both.”

Eddie can feel his heart beating quicker, telling him to stop while he’s ahead. But he knew, all along, this would blow up in his face eventually. And Buck has this impression that he’s given up on him, which is the farthest thing from the truth. “Great. Hope you work it out and live happily ever after.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, instead looking at the view ahead of them. Eddie stands back, waiting, hoping that it’s over, but also hoping he can keep him here a little while, because he has this voice in the back of his head that says Buck will not want to talk to him for a couple days after they’re done here. “It’s not what I want you to say, you know. All these gross remarks?”

“What should I say, then?” Buck does not look at him. “Should I lie?”

“It’s better than being passive aggressive.”

“Well fine. I’m sure your relationship that started because you were trying to forget me will work out nicely. I mean, really?”

He laughs ruefully and turns around. “I knew you’d do this,” he mutters. “Even when you don’t have any right to dictate how I try and move on. You told me to be happy. I’m trying my best.”

Let it go. Let it go. Let it— “You know—you could spend years with him, Buck. Years. You could do everything. All that normal couple bullshit where you go on trips and dates, and you hold hands and you spend nights together, but it just wouldn’t fucking compare. I held your life in my hands. I kept you here when you were trying to leave me. I’ve been there through everything. Me. Not him. So no, I don’t think he’s fucking Price Charming. Eventually, you’ll realize it too. That even though you lost a boyfriend, you’ve damn near had a husband this whole time, right in front of you.

“I mean, do you even know how that feels? To hear you talk about another man, to hear you obsessing over calling him? I put so much care into you, so much love, and you’re hung up on this idiot who never once appreciated you the way that I do.”

Furiously, Buck walks towards him. Eddie’s voice echoes at the height of the mountain, repeating that— I’ve been there through everything. How naive Buck has been to continue to feed into this silly little game for all these months. “You make it sound like I cheated on you, Eddie. Don’t try to make me feel guilty for this shit. If you wanted me to break up with him earlier, to be with you, then you could’ve said something. I’m not a goddamn mind reader.”

“Since when? You can tell when I need you, and when I want you to back off, but you can’t read that I’m in love with you? I’ve been trying to tell you every day that I’ve wanted you the whole time. When you’ve wanted me. When you were with him. When I was with her. The whole fucking time.”

“When? When did you try, Eddie, because all I’ve gotten from you for months is lies. Lies about how you’re fine, and you’re happy for me, and that we’re 'okay’ now. When the hell did you ever say the words, I am in love with you. ‘Cause I haven’t heard them.”

Eddie backs away and scoffs in disbelief. But it’s true. He has never said it—not verbally. Not until . . . now. “All the time! Is—is that what he had that I didn’t? Huh? Was he open about his feelings, was he more forward, was he more confident about himself? What is it about him that’s making you this fucking crazy, checking your phone every second?”

“For one thing, he wasn’t fucking scared to kiss me—“

“That’s all? That’s the fucking bare minimum, Buck.” He says in a low voice, “Who was there when you hurt your leg, helping you in the shower and making you food? Who was there after you got hit by fucking lightning, providing you a hideout from literally every other person we know? Who?”

“You are the reason we’re in this position, and not together. So just stop—“

“I was,” he answers for him. Heat burns at Buck’s face, rumbling tears in his eyes. “I’ve done everything for you,” Eddie yells. “I’ve gone to hell and back. I crawled out of a fucking well for you and Chris. I have done more than a stupid fucking kiss has, haven’t I? I’ve worked my ass off for seven years, showing you just how much I love you. What in the fuck does a kiss matter and a couple dates, compared to that?”

“I don’t know!” Buck paces the edge of the mountain, wiping tears. “He was just—there, and so he means something to me. I’m fucking sorry it wasn’t you, but it just—wasn’t. You didn’t want it to be. But that doesn’t mean I love him. I don’t. I love you. But you never fucking let me. You won’t take the next step, even though I want to. And you are the one who told me to get over you. So, yeah, I tried to move on.”

“So—you wouldn’t have gotten with him, if only I were a little braver? Right? That’s what you’re doing? You’re blaming this whole thing on me?”

Buck stops. “No! Fuck. God, nothing I’m trying to say is coming out right.”

“I think you’ve been perfectly clear,” he says. His jaw locks tightly. “Nothing is your fault. It’s all me, because I didn’t move fast enough, and you’re the only one with sacrifices here.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—“

“Well that’s what you said!” He interrupts.

Buck tries to calm himself. He speaks quietly. “It isn’t my fault. And it isn’t yours. I’m not trying to say it is.”

“Then what exactly are you saying, Buck?”

The accusatory tone—it pisses him off. He rears back at it, how much it hurts him. “I’m saying—you can’t be mad at me for this! You can’t frame this like I’m—like we’re together, and me wanting him to reach out is like infidelity. It isn’t. We aren’t a couple. There’s nothing wrong about me wanting to talk to him again.”

He crosses his arms, shakes his head like Buck is the one in the wrong here. “But deep down, you know there is. Don’t you? That’s why you’re checking your phone when I’m not looking, why you wouldn’t let me use it for directions?” Buck tries to argue, but Eddie keeps going. “You know that it doesn’t matter if I tell you I love you. If I fucking kiss you. We’re above that. We’ve been together, this whole fucking time. Normal friends don’t act the way that we do.”

“Even if—you don’t think we need that, I do.” Eddie hates hearing it, but Buck doesn’t care. The only reason he won’t listen to it is because it’s the one fucking thing he won’t give him. “It’s nice to hear that you’re loved, wanted. It’s nice to be kissed every once and a while, and to hold hands, and to be like that with someone.”

“Then I’ll give you that! Eventually. You don’t need to seek it out from that asshole.”

Buck spreads his arms out, then lets them fall to his sides. “Then tell me to stop, Eddie. Tell me to be with you. Tell me you can take care of me. Tell me the fucking truth instead of waiting for me to catch on. Tell me you love me, over and over, and make up for all the times you should’ve done something and didn’t. Show me how much you actually want this. C’mon.” Buck tries to get closer to him, but he doesn’t allow him. He holds him back with a hand on his chest. “You can’t,” Buck whispers. Eddie hangs his head.  “Listen to me. I cannot just live on words and promises. I can’t let you keep getting to me like this. Either do something about what you feel for me—or let me go. I am in pain, Eddie. It physically hurts loving you like this, and you won’t just gain some fucking courage and kiss me. Do you understand? I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

“I have taken action, Buck.” He keeps his hand in place. Though his voice wavers with irritation, his eyes set determinedly on Buck. “Maybe not in the way you want, and maybe not in the way that satisfies you, but I have done as much as I can for you right now while I try to figure my shit out and be something better. All I want from you is just—patience. Just wait for me.”

Buck—snaps. He backs away, and throws his hands out. “I’ve been waiting for seven years!” It forces a flinch out of Eddie, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. “I don’t wanna wait anymore! Are you even listening to me at all? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep playing house and being your almost-husband. I want the real damn thing. I want the wedding and the cake, and to move in, and to grow old. I. Want. You. I don’t care if you come with baggage or a fucked up head. I’ve seen you at your worst, and I’ve loved you through it easily.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to!” Eddie yells back. “You shouldn’t have to worry I’m gonna break down everytime we’re together. You shouldn’t have to support me through therapy appointments and nightmares and panic attacks—you deserve better, and I can give you that. I just need a little more time, Buck.” 

“I can’t fucking—I can’t do this with you. I can’t wait.” He closes his eyes. Waits for the pounding in his head to stop. “Selfish,” he says. “That’s what it is. I don’t—care if you are at rock bottom. I will climb right down with you. That’s what love is to me. You don’t need to be perfectly happy or whatever the fuck you’re trying to be in order to deserve love, Eddie. And I’m not gonna stand around and wait for you to get that.”

“I’m saying please here, okay?” Buck pinches at the bridge of his nose. No. He can’t be doing this. Last time, he’d told him to give up on him. Now he’s saying the opposite, but he still can’t bring himself to change whatever it is within him that he thinks is so terrible. “I am saying please. This is how I need to do this. I’m sorry you don’t like it, and that I can’t give in. But—just, please, okay? Please don’t give up on me.”

“This is so—it’s fucking cruel. It’s cruel. You keep dragging me around, getting my hopes up, and then you tell me no. I don’t wanna hear it anymore. If you can’t be with me for real—if you can’t have me, fully, then don’t start with your shit about loving me. I just can’t stomach it.”

“What are you saying?” He takes half a step.

Buck sighs. He doesn’t want to say this, but he needs to. And Eddie needs to hear it. “I need space. While you—figure everything out for yourself. I don’t deserve to be drained like this, every fucking day. I—I gotta switch shifts, stop staying at your house—we need distance. Until you learn that I’m telling the truth when I say I love every part of you, I can’t be that first call. I can’t be both your best friend and the guy you keep turning down.”

“No. No, no, no, no,” he rambles. He comes closer, grabbing at Buck’s arms. “Don’t do this, Buck—please, don’t— “

“I . . I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you. But I won’t act like nothing’s changed. Because it has.” The tears fully fall, but he doesn’t wipe them. “Okay?”

“What am I gonna do without you?” He whispers, sounding lost. As if he hadn’t done this to himself. Still, Buck wants to hold him. To tell him it will be okay. This pain is of his own creation, but Buck still wants to stand by his side and take it down with him. He’s actively hurting Buck, but still. Fucking still, Buck wants to be with him.

“Eddie. Goddamnit.” His breath hitches. He hesitates before slowly leaning in, like he will run away from him. And maybe he would, if he were not so frozen in fear of losing him. He savors that warmth that Buck gives him, a chaste kiss on his cheek. It’s a goodbye—the last bit of him he’ll feel indefinitely. But even if it is devastating, the end to a fight—he savors it. He doesn’t care that it hurts. At least it is something. “You call me when you’re ready to accept yourself.”

When he goes, he doesn’t look back. And he feels, so present, of what a big mistake he might’ve just made.

—

Eddie gets to the bottom of the mountain and orders an Uber. Doesn’t ride back with Buck. Eddie doesn’t cry until he’s home and safe in his bedroom.

Then he tells Frank he needs to move an appointment up to tomorrow. He feels somewhat proud of himself for doing that instead of trying to trick himself into thinking everything is fine. Frank says he could see him today, because he had a cancellation and it’s only two o’clock, but Eddie can’t do it. He’ll be fully sobbing five minutes in. Plus, Buck won’t be driving him. He won’t be waiting for him afterwards with coffee.

Eddie thinks he won’t wait at all, really. Even though he says different. Who would, for him? He’s done terrible things—worse than he could’ve imagined. He tries, and tries, and tries, to pick himself up, but nothing works. He’s able to convince himself he’s alright, that he’s ready, but the evidence lies in today that he isn’t. At this point, he fears he’ll never allow it in. Happiness. Joy.

The thing is, it’s in his reach. It would be his if he let it. It would not take long for it to surround him, to get used to him. But deep down, he knows that he’d ruin it. Happiness is something pure, and Eddie is not. His sins are dripping with guilt, but what does that matter? They are still, at the end of the day, sins. And they are ones that Eddie cannot take back, no matter how hard he’s trying.

—

A knock on the door wakes him up. He would usually stay up late, but tonight, he couldn’t. His head pounds and his throat is dry, but he gets up anyway.

Everything aches. From the inside to the outside. He doesn’t even know what time it is, or who it would be. But he opens the door, and he stops breathing. Stops moving. Just stares.

“I stopped texting him,” Buck says. He’s unsteady on his feet. Looks just as bad as Eddie, if not worse.

“You’re drunk,” Eddie realizes. He hurries him inside, out from the cold wind. He closes the door gently.

“I just—I couldn’t do it—“

“Buck. Chris is asleep, you need to be quiet, okay?”

“I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel how I was s’posed to. Not even when—when he was kissing me, and—“

Eddie leads him to the bedroom, behind a closed door so he’s less loud. He helps his coat off, helps him sit down, handles him carefully, lovingly, tries to calm him down by caressing his face.

“I knew it wasn’t the same. Not that we’ve ever kissed, but I just knew it wasn’t the same. And I said, I can’t. I can’t be with—with anyone else. I don’t want anyone else—“ He falls on the bed, and Eddie feels helpless. He can’t get through to him, how he is; lost in thought, in his pain.

“Why don’t you sleep, huh? You’ll feel better—“

“I’m in misery,” he sobs. His voice breaks into quivers. Eddie gasps at the complete show of vulnerability, knows he will be embarrassed of this when he is sober, even though he shouldn’t be. “I just want—but you don’t want me like that, and it hurts so much, I can’t even breathe without—without hurting—“

Eddie stands back away from him. Feels less deserving of him every second. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Fuck you. Fuck your I’m sorry’s. If you were sorry, you’d just be with me.”

“You know I can’t,” he gently says. He unlaces Buck’s shoes, kneeling down at his feet. “But I’m trying. For you, Buck. I promise you I’m trying.”

“You shouldn’t have to try, Eddie.” He buries his face in his hands, openly sobbing. All Eddie can do is look down at his shoes. “Am I so hard to love? Am I so horrible that—that you have to get therapy just to learn how to do it? It’s okay if you do. My parents—they had to do the same thing. I know I’m difficult. I try to be easy—easy-going, and optimist—optimistic, but I’m not. I’m too complicated, I—“

“You aren’t,” Eddie stops him. He holds Buck’s face in his hands, has him look at him. “It’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. It’s all me. There’s something wrong—with me.”

Buck shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t get why you think that. I’ve never said that.”

“I know,” Eddie says.

“Then why? Who told you that? Who told you that you can’t be loved?”

Eddie wipes his tears. “I did,” he answers. “A long time ago. It takes a minute to unlearn that, Buck.”

He nods, but it’s weak. Still, he cries, and lets Eddie feel the tears on his thumbs. “Baby,” he whispers. It breaks Eddie’s heart. He rests his forehead on Eddie’s chest. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t wanna live without you, but I can’t feel like this. It’s worse than my fucking leg under a firetruck. I’m fucking sorry, I just can’t do it—“

“I know. I know, I know,” Eddie soothes. “I understand. I’m not mad. I’m not. I understand, Buck, I understand.”

He cries, pressed against him, and Eddie feels nauseous with guilt. He holds him until he calms down and he can’t remember blinking the entire time. Just staring at the wall, begging himself to stop being such a terrible person. Asking God to help him change.

“I wish you were right,” Buck says drowsily.

“About what?”

“Being my—being my husband. At least then I’d know for sure that you’re coming back to me. All I do now is hope. I feel like a fucking idiot.”

Eddie winces at the harshness in his voice. “You aren’t, Buck. And I wish I were right, too.”

“Don’t say—anything else. Just sleep. Just pretend with me that we’re okay.”

He cuddles closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie, holding him tightly. So tight it must be an accident. “Okay,” he says, but knows it’s wrong. He can’t let him go, though. That would be wrong, too. And Eddie will spend his whole life trying to do the right thing.

—

When Eddie wakes up, he’s shivering. He opens his eyes and wonders if he dreamed the whole thing.

—

“What happened?” Frank asks, voice more patient than it has been since their first session.

Eddie shrugs, grasping his hands together. “He’d had enough,” he says. “I can’t blame him.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“He said—“ He clears his throat. “He said he was in misery, Frank. That he feels like I’m never gonna tell him yes.”

“What happened to never telling him? Was there something that changed?”

“No, I just—I mean, yes. Fuck. Tommy broke up with him. And he said it was because of me. But then—then he said that he still wanted to be with him, and so I just snapped. I told him it was never going to work, because we’re—we’re meant to be together. What a fucking joke. I feel like such a coward. I don’t know what I was thinking. How could I have done that to him?”

Frank keeps giving him advice, but it falls on deaf ears. Nothing is working for him. He can’t be fixed. He’s too far gone.

“Have you spoken to him since this? Apologized? It could be worth trying to explain yourself better, now that you’ve both had space—“

“It doesn’t matter, Frank. Did you hear me? I have hurt him—beyond repair. What I’ve done? You don’t do that shit unless something is seriously fucked up in your head. The best I can do for him is respect his wishes and stay away until I get a handle on myself.”

“Isolating yourself, you mean?”

“Yes. I know you therapists say that isn’t helpful, but sometimes it’s the only thing to do. Like—I think if I tried to argue this, to get him to switch his shifts back and spend time with me, it’d only make things worse. I’m fucking hanging on by a thread at this point.”

“Eddie?” Frank waits for him to look at him. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

“I mean—no. Not that. I mean our relationship—our relationship is hanging on by a thread, Jesus. Yeah, he’s created like, miles of distance. The only time we see each other is when he picks up Chris, and even then, he barely talks to me. Unless it’s about him. He’s taking time. I’m taking time. Everything is just—it’s messed up. I don’t know anymore.”

“Taking space isn’t a bad idea. But I’m saying there’s a difference between that, and isolating yourself.”

“Again with this. Okay, fine. You know, I’ll go complain to someone about my self-worth being in a dumpster if it’ll make you happy. But I’m telling you, it won’t help. And it isn’t worth anything. Buck is—is the one here that is actually struggling, and I have to talk to Hen or—or Chim to know how he is. Which is fucking hard, by the way, because he’s great at putting up a front.”

“Alright,” Frank says, mostly to himself. “Did you hear what you did just now?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You’re saying your feelings don’t matter. That you don’t deserve to feel sad. That others do, but it isn’t for you. To you, you should isolate yourself and deal with your emotions on your own. But when it comes to Buck, you want him to open up to your friends and heal.”

Eddie does not say anything back.

“I’m gonna ask you this again, and hope you’ve taken some time to think about it these last few weeks—why do you think things like happiness, and healing, and moving on, and contentment belong to the people you love, but they don't belong to you?”

Eddie laughs. Fills space. He grabs the pillow beside him, and holds it in his lap. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

Frank says simply, “The truth.”

“Well, I don’t know the truth. Okay? And if you do, I’d love it if you told me.”

He smiles politely, pityingly. “I’m asking you. And it’s okay if the answer isn't a straight shot. Just say whatever you’re thinking it could be.”

I don’t wanna be here anymore. I want to leave. “I don’t know. I just—I guess. . . it doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t?”

“I know what you’re trying to get me to say.”

It doesn’t help. Eddie tears up anyway.

“What is that?”

“That I think my feelings don’t matter,” Eddie finally says. He holds back the tears the best he can. A terrible attempt. “Not when it comes—to myself. Not when it comes to how I feel for others. Not when it comes to my parents, my past, my future. When it comes to anything. But I know, they do. They fucking matter, okay, I know that, but something goes wrong in my brain, and I don’t feel that, I just can’t make them matter, they’re so—fucking ugly. Everything about the way I care for people, everything about the way I go about things, it’s wrong. 

“I don’t want—I think I don’t want him to see. What’s inside me? What makes me . . . sad. What broke me. I don’t want anyone to. I just wish it would go away, Frank. I want it to just go away. I wanna be normal—“

His chest caves. He heaves, trying to breathe, trying to keep it together, but the control is gone. He’s a free thing, and he’s falling, and nothing is there to pick him back up. Everything is left without it’s covers. It’s cracked open. He is cracked open. All of it comes out and it’s too disarranged to pick back up and put into order again.

He can’t fucking breathe.

Frank coaches him through an exercise, a count of time in, a count of time out, and somewhere in there, Eddie registers that he’s been here far longer than an hour, with his head between his knees and his hands clasped tightly together in a prayer, asking anyone, anything, to save him, to help him, to get him through this.

When he comes back into his body, all of his emotions have cleared out, like they’re making space just for his consciousness. He stops crying, stops speaking, stops feeling. He leaves the office after Frank calls someone for him, sitting on the bench outside in the blazing hot weather. 

He is ushered inside his house by Bobby, and for a long time, he lays in bed, and he thinks about Chris. How he’ll be home soon. How he’ll wonder why dad’s home and not at work, and he’ll have to explain that his appointment was so bad he couldn’t get it together afterwards. He’ll look so worried. He’ll think of it the whole night. He won’t go to sleep. He’ll open his books and start studying. He’ll go until he can’t anymore and Eddie will find him there passed out at his desk in the morning. And Eddie will, again, feel like a failure.

For now, he closes his eyes. There is not much else he can do. 

—

A week goes by. On the day he has his first 24 hour shift since therapy, it’s also the day Chris has his last final, and it’s for his math class. Eddie sits beside him at the kitchen table, silent, just hugging him. They stay there together for a long time. Until Chris says Buck will be there soon and that he can do this and that he’s okay. Eddie’s arms had fallen asleep long ago but he didn’t stop holding him.

Buck comes, and for a moment, the sun shines within Eddie. Like there’s a storm, and he clears it. Even if he doesn’t talk to him much.

Eddie wants to keep trying. His gestures are limited now. He makes Buck a coffee and spends a long time getting it right. When he grabs it, takes a sip, he says, “Thank you.” And Eddie gets to smile. He gets to, for a moment, feel happy.

“Are you doing alright?” He asks him, while Chris is searching around the living room trying to track down his headphones. 

Eddie is surprised by it, and says like a sixth sense, “I’m fine.” He wants to take it back and say, not really, but it’s too late.

Buck knows it, anyway. Even though it’s a lie. He rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and caresses at his neck once. “Alright. I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

“Okay. Yeah. See you then.”

When he takes his hand away, Eddie tears up. He’s so frustrated from almost crying that it only makes it worse, and he can’t even properly say goodbye and good luck to Chris, because he doesn’t want to start sobbing. Today is an important day. Chris should not have to worry about him. 

He bangs his head on the table to distract himself from the tears. Frank would be pissed he didn’t let them out, but it’s not like he has to know.

—

Bobby pulls him away for a private talk when he gets in, leading him to his office.

“I know I gave you a couple easy shifts, so if this is too soon—“

“I’m good,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m okay.”

“Alright. I’m about to head out. Swinton will be here soon, and you know he’s a bit. . .”

Stern. Unfeeling. “I know.”

“So I was just asking. Before he got here.”

“I appreciate that. But I’m good for the full day. Swear.”

He goes after a supportive pat on Eddie’s shoulder. He knows this is his job, his home, but it feels less safe with Captain Swinton and the B-shift. With Buck and his schedules fucked, they’re taking turns on B-shift. It’s not the best arrangement, but Eddie isn’t about to complain. If it’s what Buck needs, then he’s good to rally through it.

And it’s not like the B-shift is terrible. They’re nice people. They just have their own close-knit group, like Eddie does with the A-shift. He’s grateful, honestly, that they don’t press at him and try to get to know him and pull a seat out for him at dinner. They let him do his own thing. As long as he shows up and gets in the rig when the alarm goes, then they’re fine.

So for five hours of the shift, it’s rinse and repeat. Go out on the call, get back, retreat to the bunks, watch or read something, and wait till the next sound of the alarm. He doesn’t speak to anyone unless it’s about a patient. It’s peaceful, almost. Like the only thing he exists for in this time is helping people, and that’s all.

It doesn’t even freak him out when there’s a 4 alarm fire. He gets ready and he sits in the rig and he’s fine. His problems are not his problems here. Here, he’s a first responder. Out there, he’s someone else, but he can’t think about it.

And even though the siren is loud, and there’s three different conversations going on in his headset, he feels the vibration of his phone. It’s not usual that he gets texts from Chris while he’s at school, what with the no phone policy, so he immediately opens the messages instead of waiting.

Chris

I know you’re at work and it’s ok if u cant but like i dont think i can be here

right now

i need to leave i think 

im freaking out

Eddie pulls the headset off. Thinks the absolute worst. He wants to know what’s happening, but the question is not as important as telling Chris that someone will be there to help him. He tries to be calm with his texts, but his hands shake as he types out assurances repeatedly.

Eddie

I’m gonna call Buck. 

I can’t come right now, I’m so sorry Chris

But he’ll be there, I promise you. 

I’m getting a hold of him right now. 

Just hold on okay?

Eddie wants to scream to stop the rig. That a fire does not matter when his son is in trouble. He wants to run to the school and pull off his gear. But no one here cares. No one here knows him. To them, he’s just a first responder. And to Chris, he is a father, and that is the only responsibility he lets hold weight right now.

He finds Buck’s contact quickly, calling him repeatedly. Someone’s speaking to him, looking at him, but Eddie does not care. If they aren’t getting out of the rig, then he isn’t listening. He isn’t thinking of the reparations for this.

Finally, he answers, and Eddie presses the phone close to his ear, trying to make sure he’d actually answered, close to not being able to hear anything over the noise of the truck.

“I told you, I can’t—“

“I need you to pick up Chris. I can’t leave work, and something’s wrong. You’re on the list, and he knows you’re coming—“

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Tell him I’m on my way, alright?”

Eddie sighs in relief. He gets to text Chris one final time before he’s getting rushed out of the rig’s cabin.

Eddie

Ten minutes, buddy. He’s coming and it’s going to be okay. 

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket the whole time he’s putting out the fire. For three hours, he doesn’t get to check it. For three hours, he’s left in the dark.

When they’re done at the scene, he can breathe again. He pulls a glove off with his teeth and quickly reads over the messages.

Buck

Hey, we’re home now, he’s okay. 

I think he had an anxiety attack, Eddie

Really bad one after his math final.

He’s asleep now. Exhausted 

Didn’t sleep last night he told me

I’m gonna stay here and take off tomorrow.

And I think we should talk about what to do when you’re home.

Eddie gets out of the rig and runs for his car. Swinton yells at him but he does not stop.

Eddie

I’m coming now. 

—

Eddie can’t see through his worry. He’s speeding home, hyper focused, doesn’t register he’s crying until Buck intercepts him at the front door.

“You gotta calm down, Eddie. You’re gonna freak him out, okay? Calm down.”

He holds Buck's forearms. Nods, strongly. “I’m fine. I’m fine. This has happened before. The anxiety attacks. It’s just been a while.”

“I know. Let’s just take a second.”

“I’ve taken a second, Buck. I have. I couldn’t even be there—“

“And he isn’t mad at you for that,” Buck assures. “He knows you were working. I put the scanner on for him. He heard your voice.”

Eddie breaks in two. “He did?”

“Yes,” Buck whispers. “He did. You were there. I promise.”

Buck closes the front door before Eddie cries in his arms, hiding himself at his chest.

“Fuck. Okay, no. I’m fine. I should see him.”

“Take care of yourself first,” Buck mutters. He wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“Sorry. ‘M sorry. Thank you for staying.”

He breathes a soft sigh, and offers what he can of a smile. “Are you gonna get fired?”

“Huh?” Eddie looks down. He’s still in his turnout coat. “Oh. No. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I—“ He stops himself. “Okay. Just take this off and come on.”

He drops the coat at the front of the door, and gets a look at himself in the mirror. There’s still the smell of smoke on him, the mark of it on his face. He doesn’t take the time to clean it off. He goes directly to Chris.

He looks okay, sitting with his Nintendo Switch in bed, a half-empty cup of hot chocolate on his nightstand. But when Eddie hugs him without a word, he quietly cries and wipes his eyes on his shirt, even if it does smell like a fire.

—

Buck is waiting for him in the kitchen, standing against the countertop. Ridgid, almost, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to sit down.

“He’s back asleep,” Eddie says. He pulls a seat out, hopes Buck will, too.

“Good. And he has the weekend to relax.”

“At least the school year is almost over. He only has a week left.”

“Yeah, thank God.”

But it doesn’t change the fact of things. “He still needs help.”

“I thought the therapy was helping.”

“Not as much as we thought. And the sleeping medication he was prescribed—“

“It’s useless.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. And he’s been taking it. I’m making sure.”

“Then maybe it isn’t about his sleep,” Buck says. “Maybe it’s been the anxiety the whole time. It just reached a breaking point.”

“And I didn’t see it.”

“Neither of us did.” Buck shakes his head. “Don’t put this on yourself. We’ll keep trying to figure it out. We can talk to his doctor about something for the anxiety.”

“He won’t want any more pills.” He was resistant enough to the ones for his sleep.

“I know. But he needs them. And it’s not a bad thing. I’m just not sure how to help him believe it.”

“I—“ Eddie bites his lip. “I take something. For depression.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.” Eddie explains without him having to ask. He wouldn’t let himself now. “I went on it like a month ago. So I can talk to him. Before this appointment, so he isn’t blindsided when she recommends it.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Are you—“

“Hmm?”

He sighs. “Is it, uhm—helping you?”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Yeah. Yeah, and I’ll tell him that.”

“No, I just—“ shaking his head, he sits down. “I was just asking for you. About . . . you.”

“Oh,” Eddie mutters. He sits up more, leaning in. He wants to talk. Jesus. “It’s helping, I think. Yeah, I’m doing better.”

He smiles. Eddie cannot bear to look at it.

“That’s good. I’m glad, b—Eddie. I, uhm—I’m gonna just—is it alright if I stay? Or should I—“

“Buck,” he says softly. “It’s okay. You can stay. And I need you to, anyway. Swinton is blowing up my phone. I might have to leave.”

“Shit, that’s right. God. I can’t believe you just left without saying anything.”

Eddie looks at the phone screen, hesitating over the call button for the B-shift captain. “You would’ve done the same thing. For him.”

His eyes glisten. He hides it by looking down. “Yeah. I would have.”

—

Luckily, he isn’t fired. But Swinton is far from happy, and he plans on telling Bobby and making him handle it. He stays until the end of his shift this time, and even though Buck is home for Chris and not him, he’s still home, and he’s excited to see him there.

The house is silent when he enters, but it’s early on the weekend, so he doesn’t mind. He figures both of them are asleep, and heads for a shower. Might make breakfast if he’s able to get out before Buck wakes up.

But he isn’t on the couch, his usual spot. Eddie checks his room next, but he’s not there either. Finally, he looks in Christopher’s room.

And he’s asleep on the floor next to his bed. There’s a thin blanket and a couch pillow under his head, and he looks the most uncomfortable Eddie’s seen him, but he’s there. They are. Together.

While he was gone, Buck watched over him. Eddie can imagine how Chris might’ve protested when he sat down on the floor, or maybe Buck waited until he went to sleep and then came in.

Eddie would’ve been inclined to do the exact same. He leaves them there and silently shuts the door.

—

Buck beats him to it, of course. He smells the bacon as he steps out of the shower, hears them talking low in the kitchen. He’s drawn to the clatter when he comes out, and feels ultimately better just seeing them there, together.

“Morning,” Eddie says, mostly as a test to see if Buck will respond, or if he’s looking for his time to leave. 

But he says, so easily, “Good morning. Hungry?”

And they eat breakfast, all together. Each of them with their own bad days still weighing heavy on their shoulders, but at least in the middle of it all, they have each other.

Eddie eats slower than usual, savoring it. Doesn’t know when he’ll next get it. Even though he’s tired, barely slept. He’d stay here forever, in this moment, if only it meant that they never had to change. That Chris never had to grow up. That he and Buck could stay in limbo, being okay how they are so Eddie would not have to face his problems and suffer any longer.

But time moves on, and breakfast gets eaten, and there are dishes to be washed, and change comes with every passing second and sends a wave of panic that soon, Buck will go.

“Will you text me?” Buck asks suddenly. Eddie looks away from the suds in the sink, taking him in. Basking in the sun. 

“Yeah. Um—what about?”

“The appointment. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.”

They ask Chris about it over breakfast, if he’d be willing to go and talk to a doctor about his anxiety. He said he’d try it. “Course it’s okay. I’d appreciate it. You going with.”

He rinses off a plate with a quiet smile. Eddie loves them, wonders what’s going through his head afterwards. They are specific ones, come after he gives the allowance of another piece of parenthood, the responsibility that comes with it. He’s been that for a long time, but it’s like Eddie telling him makes him realize it all over again.

“I’ll ask him too, you know. But I just wanted—”

“Permission?”

Hesitantly, he nods.

“You don’t need it. It goes without saying, Buck. You’re his father, too.”

“Eddie—”

“I’m sorry. Is it too much?”

He looks away, eyes distant. “It’s definitely not something you’d say before.”

Before his confession.

“Maybe not. It doesn’t make it less true, though. It’s not my way of trying to get you back in my life. It’s just—it’s been like that. It always has.”

“I didn’t—I don’t know. I’ve always felt like it’s not my place, but I know it is. I just thought that was presumptuous. So I’ve been, like, staying back. Sort of. Does that make sense?”

“Kinda. But you don’t have to. Be presumptuous all you want.”

Love our son all you want.

“Got it.”

After a comfortable silence of the routine of doing dishes, he says in a more firm voice, “This doesn’t mean I’m ready. To be . . . in it. Again. It still hurts me, Eddie. How we’ve gone about this.”

His jaw clenches. Embarrassment burns at his cheeks. “Okay. That’s okay. I told you, I understand. Take your time.”

What he wants to say instead, is no. No, it’s not okay. You out of my life has never been okay. Frank would tell him to admit to it. That his feelings matter, too. It’s okay to be selfish. It’s just that this has happened before. They screamed at each other at the top of a mountain. And look where it has gotten him.

“You know—it doesn’t mean I don’t think of you.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to drop the cup in his hand. It makes a large splash in the water. “Okay,” he says. Okay is all he can say without adding on everything else.

“That’s all?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk about this. To tell you I love you.”

He flinches, barely noticeable. “That’s not what I’m asking for.”

His voice raises. “Then what?” He has to remind himself to calm, that Chris is only a few steps away in his room.

“Like—there’s nothing? You don’t want to say anything to that? Like, Yeah, I think of you, too? Or, I don’t know—you don’t wanna fight me on this?”

“Can you just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it for you?” 

Buck is a deer in headlights. “What? I don’t know. I—I don’t know what I want. Just something that isn’t Okay, or—what’s something about you? Tell me something new. Tell me how you are.”

Eddie—doesn’t understand. “I did. I said about the medication.”

“That was about Chris. It didn’t come up because you wanted it to.”

“So—me saying I love you is not . . . enough? What, then?”

“I love you, is for me. Promises are for me. None of this is how you are doing. What about therapy? Or work?”

“You said you wanted space,” Eddie says flatly. “Just now, you said you want space. And now you want me to tell you how I am. I don’t get the back and forth, Buck.”

“I—” he wipes his hands on a towel, slowly. Holding it close. “I’m—I’m hurting being with you, I’m hurting without you. I just thought—maybe you’re hurting, too. And I know you, I know you aren’t telling anyone how you are except Frank. I wanted space, I did—but with it, I’ve been leaving you alone, and I’ve never done that before.”

“I’m alright,” Eddie says. “No, it isn’t great without you. I’m not over here doing cartwheels, man. And therapy is like an hour of my brain getting spinned around. Work is hell. But—that’s just how it is. It isn’t fun.”

“But you feel like you’re doing better?”

Eddie dryly laughs. That’s what he’d picked up after him saying everything has been a nightmare. “Yeah, Buck. I’m doing better. I’m figuring it out.”

“Good,” he whispers. “That’s—that’s really good. I’m glad. That’s what I wanted to know. Just—yeah. Wanted to know you again.”

“You can always ask,” Eddie says. Reaches out on impulse, then retracts his hand. “I’m not holding this . . . separation against you. You wanna talk, I’ll talk. You want away with me, I’m gone. You want me back, I’m there. I’m yours. Okay?”

Eddie drains the sink. Buck just says Okay, and then leaves a few minutes later. Eddie sleeps for hours afterwards and dreams of him.

—

Eddie doesn’t know that this conversation changes everything until he walks into work two days later and Buck is sitting at the counter, watching Bobby cook. He stands at the top of the stairs with his lips parted and questions in his head, but nothing comes out when he tries to put them to use.

Not until Buck is standing, and leading him over to the island to sit beside him. “We’re making breakfast.”

“I am making breakfast. Buck is meant to be learning.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Something healed without him feeling it. Without him knowing. Something had shifted. It makes him want to hug Buck, whisper thank you in his ear, but it might be too soon. He sits there, dumbstruck, until he says, delayed, amazed, “Hi.”

And Buck smiles beautifully, passing a cup of coffee to him. “Hi, Eddie.”

—

Buck drives him to his next therapy session, and it makes Eddie dread it a little less. He can’t tell if they’re heading forwards or backwards in their relationship. If Buck spending more time with him and all but eliminating the space is wrong or right.

He doesn’t sleep over. That’s something that hasn’t come back. Eddie’s disappointed by it everytime, but he doesn’t ask of him to stay. If he must sacrifice waking up to him every other day in order to work with him and drive with him to therapy, then so be it. He’s grateful for what he has gotten back.

He catches Frank up on the development, tells him about Christopher’s anxiety, to which he says he could recommend therapists that specialize in anxiety instead of insomnia, which is what they’d all assumed it was, and the lack of sleep was what was causing his irritation when awake.

“It’s not your fault you missed it. You can’t be on top of things all the time.” Which is something Frank has been trying to get through his head for months.

“I know that. I can still wish I was, though. And—shouldn’t I have caught this? I had insomnia myself. Buck has anxiety. I should’ve known the difference. I mean, I remember being afraid the anxiety attacks would come back, but for some reason, it didn’t translate in my head that maybe the reason he had those attacks in the first place is because he has it. I thought the nightmares were causing the attacks, and the nightmares were related to his sleep, so—I just assumed. We all did.”

“Exactly. His therapist didn’t even know, Eddie. See?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know you want to argue your way out of this one. Blame yourself. But I’m not letting you. Sometimes, we miss things. Sometimes, it’s out of our control.”

“But you—” Frank tilts his head. “You get what I’m saying?”

“You feel guilty that you didn’t catch his anxiety before it fully manifested itself again.”

He pauses. “When you put it like that—”

“It sounds impossible to do, doesn’t it?”

Eddie lets him win this one. “I guess so.”

Looking far too pleased with himself, Frank clicks his pen. “What about his appointment? When is that?”

“After the wedding. Still gotta talk to him about medication, which I’m assuming will go as well as it did the last time.”

“And how was that?”

“He didn’t want to.” Eddie shrugs. “And I hate making him do something he doesn’t want to do, and I doubt he’ll be accepting of it this time. The stuff for his insomnia didn’t help. He’ll probably be suspicious of them this time, too. More, even.”

“See how it goes before you start to panic, okay?”

Eddie smiles tightly. “I will try my best.”

“So—Buck.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“He’s alright now? With you waiting?”

“I mean, no. Not really. He still gets mad when it’s brought up, which isn’t often—we dance around it, really. But I think he felt worse without me, and so he’s retrying it, the being friends thing. It still—it’s there, you know. He can’t be alone with me, for one. Doesn’t stay over. And he avoids talking about it more than I do, honestly. I don’t know what to say to him half the time about it. I’m either getting his hopes up, or leaving him stranded, but either way, he isn’t okay with it. He’s like—actively mad. And I understand it. I’m mad at myself, too. But I don’t want to be with him while I’m like this.”

“Like what?” Frank asks, as if they haven’t been over this a hundred times.

“A mess.”

“Can you explain that more?”

“Like—sad. Broken. I at least want to be okay with being all of that before I get into a relationship with him, because I don’t want me freaking out a month in.”

Frank writes something down, and then sighs down at the notebook. “Eddie—what do you think you’ll do? If you went and told him you were ready now, and then you two became a couple, in what way do you think you would ruin something between the two of you?”

“I—” 

Frank waits. 

And waits, and waits, and waits, but Eddie can’t think of one thing to say.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

“And you do want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“You want to marry him.”

It is a statement because Eddie had confessed to so, a couple months earlier.

“I want everything.”

“But you can’t.”

“No,” he says.

“Why is that?”

Eddie just groans into his hands, instead of saying anything. “Do I really have to—? I just would. I’m not—a steady person. I-I have messed up more than one relationship.”

“You said you don’t want him to see this within you—the bad parts.”

“Yeah.”

“But he has, Eddie.”

Memories of a wrecked room come back. Of a bullet dug into his shoulder.

“I know.”

“And all of those times—those vulnerable moments, did you choose for him to see that?”

“You know I didn’t.”

Frank nods, leaning in. He crosses his hands in his lap. “And after all of these events—while you were in the hospital, and when Chris called him for help, how did he react?”

Something sharp stabs in Eddie’s heart. “He was devastated.” It’s like there’s cotton in his mouth. He clears his throat.

“He was devastated,” Frank repeats. “And if he saw this in you—everyday, if he saw this pain you carry, how would he react then?”

Eddie fucking hates him, in this moment. Wants to crash his office and break his fucking laptop. But he is frozen still. “He wouldn’t exactly be happy, Frank.”

“Right,” he whispers. “He would react to your pain the way a partner would—the way a partner is allowed to, because a relationship lets in all of those intimate feelings you hold back when you’re just friends.”

“Probably.” Eddie shifts in his seat. Can see the sun peaking through the window, and wishes he were outside. Anywhere but here.

“I just wonder if this isn't about how you would feel. The reason you can’t be with him.”

“What else would it be about?” Eddie questions, emptily.

“What it seems to come back to quite often. If you were together, then Buck would try to help you.”

“All the time.”

“And he would know your pain.”

“All the time.”

“You see what I’m getting at, then.”

“Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.”

Frank shrugs. “Tell me.”

“I’m prioritizing his feelings,” Eddie says, his voice uncomfortably loud. “Fucking protecting him, again. From me. From my sadness. Is it so wrong that I don’t want him to feel this like I do? I love him, Frank. Okay? I love him. If he were with me, he would just—he would feel so terrible, because I feel terrible.” He shakes his head. “I know. I don’t take care of myself. I put him first. I always put him first. But you don’t—get it. You don’t get how much I love him. It’s like a whole growth of its own, like—it’s not stupid. It’s not stupid to want him away from this.”

“I didn’t say it was stupid, Eddie,” he says, softly. “But Buck loves you. And when you let him in, I think you’ll find it helps you more than it makes you feel guilty. And somewhere through it, you might just be settled with the fact that he loves you unconditionally. No matter how much sadness you hold inside of you.”

“You can assume that.” Eddie’s voice cracks, his throat clogged with tears. “But you don’t know that. You don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

“I don’t know. And I won’t pretend to. But what I can say is that I think you’re deserving of happiness, and of being with the man you love. It’s only up to you if you want to fully let him see you for who you are. Right?”

“Give up control,” Eddie whispers.

“In a way.”

He chokes on an uncomfortable laugh. “Jesus. You suck sometimes. Really, you do.”

For what it’s worth, Frank smiles. “I’m told that by a lot of patients.”

When Eddie suggests they schedule an appointment two weeks out instead of four days, he doesn’t seem offended by the ask for space from him.

—

Sophia’s wedding sneaks up on all of them. 

Eddie is woken up by her calling repeatedly, and her panicked question in his ear of, “When is your flight? Please tell me it’s soon. I can’t handle all these people in my house without backup, Eddie, please.”

Instead of letting out the, what the hell are you talking about it’s a week away spew he wants to say, he checks the date first.

June 13th.

Damn it.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Soph. Don’t worry, kay? I’ll—I’ll help you.”

“Oh my God, did you just wake up? Eddie! I told you to wake up early, and that I’d probably be calling you a thousand times throughout the day until your flight.”

“Well, to be fair, this is the first time you’ve called me—”

“Don’t even. I tried you ten times before this.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at the ceiling. “Sorry? Love you?”

“Whatever. Get on a plane!”

—

Buck had known. He’s already packed, and he’s ready, and he has an itinerary, and he wrangles up passports as soon as he comes into the house. Eddie runs around the place frantically, packing for himself, and then helping Chris pack, and then making him food before the flight, and then cleaning the house because he doesn’t want to come home to a mess, and somewhere in between all this, he gets a ten minute shower and somewhat of a lecture from Buck on not being properly prepared when he had the ‘Save the Date’ right on his fridge.

It’s not as if he forgot, okay? He’s just had a lot going on. And he knew it was coming, he’s thought of it everyday, he mainly just forgot about his flight. Why he scheduled it early in the morning two days before can only be traced back to the influence of Sophia’s guilt tripping about needing him as a buffer for some of Devon’s family members that she’s just meeting this week.

And when he says him as a buffer, he actually means Buck. Yeah, he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s getting thrown to the wolves so Eddie can take breaks in an empty room and decompress every ten minutes.

The whole time Buck and Eddie run around the house getting everything together, Chris is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, looking unbothered by the state of affairs. Since school ended, his anxiety has drastically lessened. To the point where Eddie brought up, just as a small idea, about homeschooling to Buck, wanting his thoughts on it. Eventually they decided he probably wouldn’t like it, being away from his friends. Trying medication is still the course of action.

They hurry him into Buck’s Jeep along with luggage, and Eddie already knows when he gets in the passenger seat they’re forgetting something, and it will probably hit him when they’re already on the plane, but he has no time to sit and ponder it. They’re leaving the house as soon as Chris’s seatbelt clicks into place.

—

Buck calls El Paso muggy, right after they’re exiting the airport. “Don’t call it that in front of Sophia. Or my parents. Or anyone here, really.”

In the no parking zone, Sophia parks her car. She heads straight for—Christopher. Straight for Christopher. But then she heads to Eddie, and he holds her close in a hug for longer than she probably expected.

“Don’t you have a wedding or something to be preparing for?”

“Uh, yeah. In two days. I wanted to come get you guys, though. Otherwise, you would’ve been coming to the house with one of Devon’s various family members who are almost uncomfortably nice.”

She helps Chris with his suitcase, and leaves Buck and Eddie to hold their own. “Wait. You are coming to the house, right? Not the hotel yet?”

Well—Eddie was trying to avoid as much contact with his parents as possible, but if it’s for Sophia, then.

Actually—no. Chris is exhausted. Buck is limping on his injured leg from the cramped space in their seats. And Eddie couldn’t stomach putting them through a rowdy social situation after that.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—everyone’s tired right now. But we’ll be there later. Like, dinner? Is that—is that okay?”

“Dinner,” she says, breathless. “Five hours. I can do five hours. I can survive. Yeah. Dinner. That’s fine.”

Buck gives her a worried look. “Uh—hi, Sophia.”

This makes her stop in her tracks. She sighs happily, before falling into his awaiting arms. “Hi, Buck. Hey.” 

They—confusingly—hug? Since when do they know each other enough to hug?

They’re all being forced in the car and getting yelled at to move by airport security before Eddie can ask, and by the time the air conditioner kicks on, Eddie finds it can well and truly wait.

—

They approach Sophia and Devon’s house like they’re about to enter a warzone. It looks cozy, approachable, with all the greenery they have in the front, and the flowers lining the pathway there. They even have a ramp next to the steps that evidently Devon and his brothers had installed especially for Chris, even though he and Eddie visit El Paso a max of four times a year. It basically certified in Eddie’s head that yeah, Devon was an alright guy, and he didn’t need to be shooting him death glares everytime they were in a room together anymore.

His family are all spread through the house, from the porch to the backyard. Evidently, it’s a tradition in his family to have this kind of ‘private introduction’ of whoever is getting married to someone in their family, so they can somewhat get to know the person before the big day. It makes sense—it does, but it’s also a huge hassle, and the thing Sophia has been the most nervous about, even with the wedding on the horizon.

They find themselves in the kitchen eventually, drawn to Sophia who’s huddled in the corner, sat away with a glass of wine. Adriana jumps up from her seat when she spots them all, and Eddie is picking her up and spinning her around before he can really process what he’s doing. It’s a thing they used to do—those games you play with kids when they need cheering up. He’d spin her around, and she’d giggle and ask him to do it again.

Eddie can still hear the remnant of the child-like wonder in her laugh when he does it now, though she’s stepping into adulthood, grown-up with her hair down to her waist and a necklace made from pearls that looks straight from their mom’s jewelry box.

She’s all full of questions for Buck since they haven’t met in person before. Where Eddie is worrisome, and Sophia is reserved, Adriana is free. Eddie made sure to protect that within her as much as he could. It was harder when he went to the army and moved to LA, but Sophia had taken the reins. His parents will take the credit for her ambition and how far her dreams span, but Eddie knows it, and Sophia knows it, and they do, too, that it was him who raised her up this way, brave and outgoing. His beautiful little sister who does not stifle her wonder for anyone.

Eddie has to introduce himself maybe fifty times, or more accurately, like twenty. Chris gets the excuse of being a kid here and doesn’t have to speak. Eddie introduces him instead. But when Buck has to explain who he is, it gets a little muddled, and gathers up three or four curious Sadler’s. After that fiasco, Eddie just resolves to calling him his partner.

He stiffens at Eddie’s side when he says it the first time, but it’s too late to retract the label. He doesn’t quite relax for the whole night after that.

There is a curious older woman who helps Chris track down a cup to get some juice that he takes a liking to. Devon’s grandma, evidently.

“And who are you here with, honey?”

Eddie smiles at the scrunch of Chris’s nose from being called the pet name. The only time Eddie ever gets away with one is if he’s sick, and that’s pushing it.

“Those two antisocials,” he says, and Eddie throws his arms out. Did not think he’d need to give the kid a refresher on manners in front of older people.

“Oh,” she says politely. “And they’re your dads?”

He seems surprised at the question, and Eddie’s about to step in, looking at Buck, but then he just says, “Yeah. They’re okay, really. Just shy.”

(As if Chris had not been making Eddie do 95% of the talking for him the entire night.)

It lifts Buck’s mood considerably. He gets into a deep conversation with an uncle or a cousin, Eddie can’t be sure, talking to him about the different species of snakes in Texas (don’t ask.)

They finally eat around seven, spread around the living room and kitchen, some with plates on their laps. Conversation and laughter never stalls. Devon never leaves Sophia’s side. It’s a small gesture, maybe one that Sophia herself doesn’t notice, but it becomes knowledge to Eddie when he follows behind her to the bathroom. A co-dependant pair.

Buck pulls him away from everyone after dinner, when Chris seems to still be getting along with Harper, Devon’s grandma. He follows him outside, to the back porch.

“You okay? Needed a break?"

“You’re saying I’m your partner.” He gets right to it. Eddie stutters.

“Y-yeah, uhm—I’m sorry. I just thought—I don’t know. It was easier to say.”

“Right. Easier to say,” he mutters.

“I’ll—I’ll stop. You don’t like it. I’ll stop.”

“No, I don’t—I don’t mind it. You just did that thing again, where, like, you decide something, and you didn’t run it by me, and it took me by surprise, I just wanted to talk to you about it real quick. Sorry. Not a big deal. We can go back in now.”

“Wait—” Eddie grabs his arm, stalling him. “Buck, just hold on. You wanna talk about it, let’s talk about it. You’re bothered. Yeah?”

He hesitantly nods his head.

“Okay. Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I should’ve. I just thought you’d go along with it, but that was stupid, obviously. I know it’s not just some easy label to get people off our backs. It—”

“It’ll mean something, someday. I’m just sad the first time you called me your partner, it wasn’t the truth.”

His hand slides down his arm. “Me too. It really should’ve waited.” It’s a good thing they still have those other ones to look forward to—boyfriend, fiance, husband. 

“Yeah.” They catch each other’s eye, and Buck laughs. “Sorry. This was dumb. And we left Chris to fend for himself.”

“He’s fine. He’s chatting it up with Harper.”

“Man, he’s probably telling every embarrassing story about you that he can think of.”

They rush inside.

—

Eddie hadn’t considered the sleeping arrangements. There are two king sized beds, and no doubt, Chris wants one for himself.

So, Eddie and Buck. Together. In the same bed. Sleeping.

Which is fine.

Both are exhausted, but the need for sleep leaves Eddie’s body as soon as Buck lays down, and he feels the weight shift on the bed, and there they are, beside each other. Staying to their own sides, not facing one another, just sharing a bed and nothing else, because anything else will confuse Buck and Eddie is still not fucking sure what to do about the mess he’s created between them, but he knows what Frank would say. He loves you, you two will work through it, don’t deprive yourself of love just because you’re scared.

Okay. Yeah, he gets it. But it’s easier to say the assurance then to live the moment.

He lays straight on his back, staring at the ceiling. He runs a hand through his hair, his hands over his face, trying to convince himself that it’s okay.

He glances over at Buck in the dark. He’s turned around, his back facing towards Eddie. He’s basically laid flat down, but his face is turned on the pillow, his eyes closed and breathing leveled. He looks peaceful, boyish without his hair styled and left in wild curls.

Eddie could touch him, easily. He could smoothly run his fingers down his back, softly move his hair off of his face. He could lay closer to him, set his hand at the center of his back, and rest his forehead against the side of his arm. He could do so much, if only it were allowed. If only he were braver.

—

The 15th, they arrive early. Everyone is filled with this anxious energy, running instead of walking around the venue.

It’s at this grand church, stained glass windows, high ceilings. Mainly to please their parents. At least it’s beautiful. Breaktaking.

There is Sophia’s charm, even if it is in a venue she didn’t exactly want. It’s the one thing from her fantasies she didn’t get, a wedding outside with the birds chirping and her dress flowing in the wind.

But she has the peonies at the end of every pew. White-rose flower pedals over the red carpet, leading up to where Devon stands with the minister. Sophia has Eddie peak in every other minute, to make sure things are ‘still in order.’

He’s surrounded by women, all of Sophia’s bridesmaids talking over each other. Adriana is the loudest, double and triple checking that all of them match, that their bouquets have the same amounts of flowers.

Eddie doesn’t see the imperfections that Sophia does, that she’s nitpicking. He doesn’t mind the small flower she pins to his velvet-blue suit pocket. He just sees her, really. How beautiful she is in her sage green dress that comes down to her feet with a small train. The sleeves of it are translucent, showing her tattoos, which she smirks about, because their mom has not seen it.

Her veil is of the same color, lacey and supported by a crown over her curled hair. She looks up at Eddie, no longer that dreamer in high school that used to rant about her dream wedding. It’s actually here, happening. 

“Don’t cry,” she whispers. “Then I’ll cry. Okay? Save it for after.”

He chokes up, tries to push it down. “You look so beautiful, Soph. I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t—“ She presses a finger to the corner of her eye. “Just get me down this aisle, please. Let’s be gushy afterwards.”

“Whatever you want,” Eddie promises. “It’s your day.”

Adriana hugs at Eddie’s side. “How beautiful does she look?”

“I was just telling her how much.”

“Both of you! Please?” 

Eddie smiles in surrender. When Sweet Dreams (Of You) by Patsy Cline starts, Adriana claps at the bridesmaids. “Bridget, that’s your cue. Go. Everyone get in line here, kay? Soph, Eddie, oh—Eddie, you’re stepping on her train! Come on.”

Bridget helps unruffle it, and Eddie just—is so proud. Of her. Can barely contain it, but he’s going to for her. He wants this to be perfect, almost as much as she does.

“I know it isn’t too romantic,” Sophia says. “The song.”

“No. But it sure does sound like it.”

She hugs him, not fully, because she’s trying to not mess up her makeup and hair, but—she does. It’s more than Eddie can really explain, the emotion behind it, how surreal it is to be here.

“It’s time,” Adri whispers. She kisses Sophia’s hand. “I love you. Don’t worry about a thing from here on. You let me do it.”

Sophia nods, holds Adriana’s hand in both of hers for a long while before they have to walk.

Patsy Cline sings them down, and Eddie cannot contain the joy, the happiness. He smiles and does the noble thing at the end and shakes Devon’s hand, but he pulls him into a hug. “I love her so much,” he quickly says.

“And that better not change. Not ever,” Eddie answers.

When he lets go of Sophia’s hand, that’s it. His job is done. She’s onto the next part of her life, and she has someone else to take care of her now. Maybe it should lift some of the paternalism from Eddie’s shoulders, but he’s found that’s never going to fade. He will always feel it, even though they’re siblings. He raised this girl. And how beautiful of a woman she’s become.

He wipes his eyes when he sits beside Buck, holding his hand tightly. He watches her the whole time, how any anxiety seems to have left her. All she does is look at Devon, love struck, and he does the exact same. There are tears in his eyes when she says her vows, and he cups her face, so normal, like he does it often.

When Devon starts, he’s quiet. Nervous, maybe. And then Eddie learns why.

He’s saying his vows in Spanish. He had learned how to, just for her.

Buck asks what he’s saying, quietly into Eddie’s ear. When he translates, he finds it hard to draw his eyes away from Buck.

“He’s saying—from the moment I met you, I knew this would happen—“

Eddie thinks of Buck in the back of an ambulance with him, defusing a bomb. Promising to have his back.

“I knew we’d fall in love. I tried to be slow with it, and savor every moment—“

“I’ve been trying to tell you every day that I’ve wanted you the whole time.”

“I didn’t take any of it for granted, darling. I love that we’re here, but I loved, just as much, our friendship—”

“Before I knew I was in love with him, I was more than happy being his best friend, and I just want to be happy for him again. Why can’t I just be happy for him?” 

“I loved when we were naive in college, thinking it was too soon to say those words. I loved everything that you were, everything you held close. I loved to laugh more, and to joke more, and to be more, because of you. You inspired me to cherish every day—”

He’d stay here forever, in this moment, if only it meant that they never had to change.

“You’ve made me so happy—”

He makes Buck a coffee and spends a long time getting it right. When he grabs it, takes a sip, he says, “Thank you.” And Eddie gets to smile. He gets to, for a moment, feel happy.

“If I am anything, here, standing in front of you, I am grateful. I am blessed. I am kissed by the heavens to be granted the wish of being your husband—”

“I wish you were right,” Buck says drowsily.

“About what?”

“Being my—being my husband.”

“I promise, my love, that I will always be like this, standing beside you—”

“I don’t—care if you are at rock bottom. I will climb right down with you. That’s what love is to me.”

He’s- there. He’s just there and he lets Eddie be there and it punches him in the gut how much he loves him for it.

“I promise that I will try everyday to show you a new part of my love, because it is an endless thing. I promise I will never let this day fade from our heads, even when we’re old and grey. I promise you my heart, my words, my everything. I love you, darling. I love you.”

Eddie is unraveling in front of Buck. Even though the words are not his, they reflect exactly how he feels, everything he wants to say, everything he’s holding back, everything Buck has wanted him to tell him for months. Buck’s eyes fill with tears, and he draws his hand away from Eddie’s. He doesn’t know—he doesn’t know that Eddie is ready to be his, to show him it all. Eddie takes his hand again, and he pulls it over his heart. Buck sharply inhales, and pulls his attention back to Sophia and Devon, denying what’s in front of him—what Eddie is trying to communicate to him.

It’s beautiful, when everyone cheers and claps at the end, and they walk down the aisle together, and Sophia doesn’t make sure every flower is right, or that her bridesmaids are following. Her focus is Devon. Devon’s focus is her.

Eddie’s focus is Buck.

—

The reception is held at a hotel about five minutes away. What a group, they must look like. Diaz’s mixed with Sadler’s, all talking and joking with each other as they make the trek in their dress shoes to the hotel.

When they get there, Devon and Sophia have not arrived yet, and there’s downtime where everyone admires the reception area—the circle tables with white tablecloths and pink flowers in the middle. The dark pink lighting that shines down in the room, over the dancefloor.

They track down their table, the three of them sat next to Eddie’s parents and Devon’s mother. Adriana is at the next table, and she points everyone towards their areas, a force to be reckoned with.

When Chris is settled in his seat, phone in hand and content for now, not yet complaining about food (though Eddie knows it’s coming soon), he goes to explore the hotel, and at some point, find a bathroom.

Buck is hot on his heels, his black suit jacket gone. His hands are in his pockets, and he leans in when he asks, “You were gonna leave me alone? You promised we’d stick together.”

“You had Chris.”

“He’s on his phone. Hungry. Oh, and by the way, your parents caught wind of you calling me your partner, so I just wanted to warn you that you have that to deal with when you go back. If you go back.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie decides. He walks leisurely, looking up to the ceiling with paintings of stars and people.

“But it’s—it isn’t true.”

“It will be. Soon. So it’s okay. I don’t mind them knowing. If they have an issue, then they can work it out themselves.”

Buck ignores the first part of what he’d said, stuttering over his words. “You don’t wanna talk about it with them?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders. “It’s out of my hands. They’re gonna think what they’re gonna think.”

Buck walks backwards in front of him, catching his eye. “You’re serious? You’re just letting it go?”

“Is that bad?”

“No! No, of course not. That’s wonderful, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

“Me too,” he says.

Buck laughs in his ear. A small blessing of its own. “You seem different. You have this whole trip, actually.”

“Good different?”

He nods, yes. “Like, it just seems like you aren’t worrying about as much. Like you have some more confidence in yourself.”

Eddie shyly grins, looking down at his feet.

“Don’t be modest. It’s attractive.”

They find themselves at an empty bar, and turn around to walk the long hallway again. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Eddie,” he warns.

“What? I’m being genuine.”

“I know you are,” he says gently. “Anyway, should we go back?”

Disappointment eats at every other emotion. Eddie stops where he stands. “In a minute,” he tells him. Buck turns in surprise, his head slightly tilted. “We could talk.”

Buck says quietly, “Talk?”

“Yeah. If that’s alright.”

“Talk about . . .”

“Us.” Eddie continues keeping his eye contact when he says it, trying to tell him he is serious. 

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

Uncomfortably, he laughs, but kindly smiles to hide it. “I’m just wondering what’s left to be said, Eddie.”

Eddie bites his lip, clenching his hands in his pockets. “Well, I never get tired of telling you that I’m in love with you.”

Buck scoffs. He scratches at his nose. “See, those words just feel like you’re stabbing me anymore. It isn’t a good thing.”

Though it shocks him to hear it, Eddie should’ve suspected he’d say it. He throws it around in his head if he should even say anything. If he should be selfish. He’d planned to tell him today, in fear of if he waited any longer, he’d say nothing at all. So it’s now or never, really. No matter how it goes, he’s going to have told him. What will happen, will happen.

“What if I said that I’d like to change that?”

God, he looks like he could yell at Eddie if it weren’t for where they were. Instead, he steps closer to him, cautiously whispers, “What are you trying to say to me?”

“Before—when I did this the first time—I thought that was it. I thought that I was ready. But as I was speaking, I could feel this— pressure on my chest. That what I was doing was wrong. I didn’t get why, because my feelings for you have never been a terrible thing to me. But it wasn’t about that. Not ever. It was in here,” he says, pointing to his head. “Somewhere, inside of me, I thought that I shouldn’t do this, because I didn’t want you to be surrounded by my sadness. I thought, if it was drowning me, then there wasn’t a way I was going to let it get you, too. I thought I had to be in control. That I had to protect you from it, like it was a monster.

“But it isn’t.” He sniffles, and shakes his head. “It’s just an emotion. I may feel it stronger than others, but that’s all it is—it’s just an emotion, and I was so fearful of it. I wanted to be isolated with it, to not let anybody else see it—but you have. Time and time again. And you never ran from me. You just loved me. And I loved you. And I should’ve let it be that from the start, but I backed out. I was terrified, Buck. To let you in, to let you know it, always. I thought—how fucking selfish, to make him deal with this. But it’s not. I had just tricked myself into thinking so, and I couldn’t get away from it once I had it in my head.”

“God,” Buck whispers, horrified. “I called you selfish, Eddie. I did. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I was just so overwhelmed, I—“

“I don’t hold that against you, Buck. And you were right. The way I did this—the way I held you back, how I told you your relationship wouldn’t work—it was selfish. It was wrong. It was disgusting. And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. So no, don’t feel guilty over that. You were right to be angry.”

“But you were right, Eddie. It wouldn’t have worked.”

Eddie looks down. “That wasn’t for me to decide, or argue with you about. I was—I was struggling, with the thought of you moving on, and I lashed out. I was insecure, Buck. In every regard. I hated how I felt about myself. I hated that what I felt about myself tangled with how I felt about you, and I could not confront one without confronting the other. But I—I know it’s different this time. I do.”

Buck paces in front of him slowly, hanging onto his every word. “These past months—I tried not to, Eddie, but I lost so much trust I had in you. I lost so much hope. All I had were your promises, and even those I started to resent. I just wished you hadn’t ever said anything to me at all. That what was between us was still an unspoken thing. God, every time I saw you—every time we talked, every time I had the mere thought of you—everything within me turned sour. I could barely stand it some days.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you. I know you regret it. I know you’ve been trying, and trying, every day. But it was difficult for me too, to want you and not being able to have you. I really began to think—that I was the issue. That I was just not good enough. And I’m not saying—it’s not all on you that I felt this way, okay? This type of thing has always been inside me, and—it’s something I should work on, too. But I—I did lose so much trust, Eddie. And I don’t know how to fix that on my own.”

Acceptingly, Eddie nods his head. His eyes go wide with the shock, that the situation has turned, that—that Buck is the one who doesn’t want to be with him. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. It’s been—more than unfair. The way I’ve treated you, spoken to you, messed with your emotions—I don’t blame you that you lost trust. I don’t. I would have in me, too. So if you’re—if you’re saying no. If you don’t want this anymore . . . okay. I’d hate it, and I’d miss you, but—“

“Eddie. No. That’s not what I’m trying to tell you at all.”

He glances into his eyes, finding sincerity. “You—you do want to be with me, then?”

“I told you,” he mutters, messing with Eddie’s suit jacket. “I told you that I’d wait for you. And I have. I’m just trying to make sure you know that it hasn’t been easy for me, either. You haven’t been alone in your pain, Eddie. I’ve been beside you the entire time.”

Sighing in relief, he rests his head on Buck’s shoulder. “Jesus, you scared me for a second. I thought—I don’t know what I thought, I thought you had changed your mind.”

“About you? Never. No, I still love you. I always have. Trust might’ve been broken, but that can be worked on. All of it can. We can go through it together—truly together, communicating.”

Anything. Anything he wants. “Buck,” he whispers. “I want you to kiss me now.”

Buck looks around them, but the corridor is empty. “Right now?”

He draws Buck’s sleeve up until he can touch bare skin. “Yes. I want you to kiss me, and I want everything else. I want you to be mine, for real. I want you everywhere. In my house, in my heart. I want your last name, one of these days. I always have. It just took me some time to let myself ask for it.”

“God,” Buck shakily whispers. “Are you really—this is real? This is real?”

“Yes. It’s real.”

Eddie breathes deeply, his forehead falling onto Buck’s. “I need you,” he says.

“I need you,” Buck whispers to him. He holds Eddie’s face in both of his hands, gentle and hesitant. Eddie is the one to connect their lips, and he regrets not doing it sooner. So many times, it was the answer, Buck’s answer. If you would just kiss me. But Eddie hadn’t understood everything behind it until now. How safe it is, how intimate, how promising of the word love. It’s as close to a physical explanation for the four-lettered word as you can probably get, whispering it without words.

Eddie walks him back into the wall, a hand behind his head when he hits it softly. He moans quietly into it, grasping at Eddie’s waist for more of him. Faintly, Eddie can hear Patsy Cline, the crescendo of a violin as he tells Buck, “I love you.” And doesn’t have to worry it will end with him getting upset.

Buck gets his hands under his shirt somehow, warm to the touch. Eddie kisses him more hastily, deeply, his hand in his hair, tugging and directing him. Buck opens his mouth for him wider, a broken moan locked in his throat. Eddie pulls back to smile at how sweet it is before connecting their mouths again, nipping at Buck’s bottom lip. He flexes his hand at Eddie’s waist approvingly, asking the silent question for him to do it again.

When Eddie pulls his lips away, Buck’s are swollen and red. He leans in for more, but Eddie stops him. “I’m meant to be taking wedding pictures right now.” Unfortunately. He could stay with him here the rest of the night. 

Breathlessly, Buck laughs. “Good luck with that. Your suit is all messed up.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Without asking, Buck pushes his shirt back into his pants, adjusting it for him. “I don’t know. You kissed me, didn’t you?”

Proudly, Eddie says, “Yeah, I did. Did you like it?”

He giggles—fucking giggles—“Yeah, I did.”

“I’ll do it again, then. Don’t worry.” Eddie smiles, and holds his hand. “Be my date to this wedding reception?”

Buck is all giddiness and sweetness, kissing Eddie’s cheek, his head, his eyelids, his lips, quickly. They laugh together, silently, and Buck answers his question, finally. “I would love nothing more.”

—

Eddie watches him and Chris on the dancefloor, and thinks, That’s the love of my life. He does increasingly embarrassing moves, trying to make Chris get into it, dancing circles around him—literally.

“I told you not to steal my thunder,” Sophia says, adjusting her dress to sit down.

“I didn’t. I made it official in the hallway. Technically, not at your wedding.”

“Uh, technically, it’s still stealing my thunder, because you did it on the same day I got married, Eddie.”

She steals the cheese and crackers from Eddie’s plate. Eddie lets her.

“No one could outshine you today, Soph. Besides, I’ll let Devon re-propose or something at me and Buck’s wedding. You can get your payback.”

“Really?” She sets her chin on her hand. “You’d do that for me?”

“Why not?” Eddie says. Probably, he wouldn’t say no to anything right now, watching his son and partner laugh at each other while they dance.

“He makes you nicer. I like him for that.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, smiling over at Buck when he finds him past the crowd. He blows Eddie a kiss. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”

—

It’s a myth that love is of its own standing. Eddie likes to think it is every emotion, every feeling, every want and need wrapped into one, singular word. That every time he tells Buck he loves him from then on, he’s telling him, too, every promise he’s ever made to him.

He tells him it after Chris’s appointment at the doctor, and he worries himself sick over how he is when he locks himself in his room. He says it for both of them when he finally comes out, and how powerful is that? To be able to own someone’s love so securely that you can speak it for them. 

Every night, Chris and him take their medication together in the kitchen before they go to sleep. It’s less isolating, the action of taking a pill for your mental health when you do it with someone else.

Buck does a deepdive on every side affect of it, but he doesn’t tell Chris what they are. He tells him how it’s helping him, instead. What it’s doing for him. It makes it easier to grasp, knowing what’s in it, instead of thinking of it only as an uncomfortable pill to swallow.

They are more steady of a family when they come back from Texas. It’s hard, being so vulnerable, wide open, but it’s something Eddie becomes used to, day by day. He lets Buck see him, even when it’s hard— especially when it’s hard. He needs him the very most in those times, when he feels like just getting out of bed is an arduous task.

He doesn’t stop going to therapy, and he doesn’t stop trying, but he does give himself a break. He does tell Buck how he’s feeling, what he needs. Everything that Eddie had been so hesitant towards, had fought against—becomes him. 

He is not completely healed, as he had wished to be almost every night, and his heart does not feel completely void of the sadness he used to despise so dedicatedly, but he learns to live with it. Learns that, maybe being able to carry it all and not feel so stressed anymore because of it is good progress in of itself.

He’s allowed all of it. To feel and to hate it or to feel and to love it. But either way, he lets it in, and he faces it head-on. And there is something to be said for that bravery after months of fear.

—