[fic] 2000 miles 2/3
Apr. 20th, 2025 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pairofraggedclawsFandom: 9-1-1
Rating: E
Word count: 5310
Characters/pairings: Buck/Eddie
Summary: Buck and Eddie, 800 miles apart. (Buck POV.)
When Buck was twenty-two, he got in Maddie’s Jeep and drove west. Not straight west; he stopped in a lot of places, sometimes for a day, and sometimes for weeks or months. He’d get a job, meet a girl, or two, or three, or...yeah. One day, he’d get up and something would be different in the air. The shine rubbed off the place, the promise gone. The promise of something he hadn’t put a word to yet: home.
He found flickers of home in warm nights with pretty girls who liked his birthmark and his laugh and the way he made them feel. He found it in the Jeep, which turned from Maddie’s to his at some point along the way. When he first saw the ocean, he felt it more strongly than he’d ever had before in the beating of the surf, the cry of seagulls.
And when that shine wore off, the potential that this might be the place, the town, the girl, the job that was who he was supposed to be, he’d hit the road again. Buck owned about as much stuff as it took to fill a duffel bag and a backpack, so it never took him long to clean out and go.
Some nights, he’d find somewhere, a parking lot, a field, the side of a deserted road, and he’d sleep in his Jeep. A couple of warm nights out in the country, with the starlight up above and the wind blowing through the long grass, he fell asleep stretched out on the hood of his car like a killed deer. And it was beautiful out there, with all the wild world stretched out around him.
It was the first time, too, that Buck had really had something that was his. Not just the Jeep, but the choices he made every day of where to go and what to do and who to do it with. No one telling him exactly how stupid and selfish he was. He was free in a way he hadn’t known was possible.
It took him a long time to figure out that there was a price for his absolute freedom; he was alone.
Buck gets in his Jeep and drives to the loft, and he doesn’t look behind him. There’s no point; that’s what he tells himself, up until it’s time for him to turn off the block and he glances back without thinking about it, and there’s Eddie, a small figure watching him go. Eddie’s there, he’s right there. But he’s already gone.
When he gets back, he gets right into bed in his street clothes, only bothering to take his shoes off. He pulls the covers over his head and takes his phone out, texts DRIVE SAFE to Eddie. Then he orders delivery, sets his ringer on high, and goes to sleep.
He wakes up to takeout he has no appetite for and the dismal realization that he was kind of hoping to wake up to Eddie ripping his covers off and telling him to get out of bed because “it’s morning, Buck.” Standing at the counter staring at the boxes of food, Buck starts crying. Not tearing up, or a few sobs, but the for real kind of crying, way beyond how hard he cried in Eddie’s arms last night.
The last time he cried like this – he was in high school, and his parents were being fucking insane and Maddie was gone and he just couldn’t make them understand what he was saying. When he tried to talk, they’d ask why he was talking back, why he had a tone, even though he was just trying to explain. And he realized for the first time that he was alone, alone in a very real way. That he’d always be alone with his parents. Somewhere, trying to talk to his parents turned to crying, and it just got worse and worse until his mom snapped, “What is this? Are you on drugs right now?” which had shocked him into a rage that was totally cold and totally silent and he just stood up and walked straight out of the house.
Buck has a lot more now than he did then. He’s got his friends and he’s got his job and he has Maddie and Jee-Yun. But. He loves Eddie, loves loves him, and Eddie loves him. Instead of that being something kind of amazing for them to talk about and go on dates about and fuck about, it’s just another cruel joke.
Buck loves Eddie, Eddie loves Buck, and Eddie is driving to Texas, maybe forever. Buck actually cannot stop crying. He got too much food because he just hit “previous order” but that’s enough food for him and Eddie. He’s at the same counter in the same kitchen where he and Eddie have had a thousand conversations. Nowhere is safe in his whole apartment. He sits down on the floor and curls in on himself, and sobs wrench through him, and his mouth tries to form words but it can’t, not while he’s like this. After some amount of time, he’s too physically tired to cry anymore, and his lips are moving, his voice saying brokenly I want him back I want him back I want him back.
It’s a blur after that, and then it’s night and Eddie’s calling.
“They don’t have Facetime in Texas?” Buck says by way of answering the phone.
“The signal here’s shit,” Eddie says. “I’m...I’m at my parent’s house.”
“Something wrong with the new place?”
“Not sure,” Eddie says vaguely. “I figured it’d make it easier to talk to Christopher, being here for a little while.”
Buck bites his lip. Carefully, he says, “How is he?”
A tired laugh. “He’s fine. I’m having trouble...I don’t know.” Eddie sighs. “Coming back here makes me feel like a kid, and Chris is so grown up, Buck, you wouldn’t believe how tall he is, and he’s acting like he doesn’t give a shit about anything. It’s like I’m ten and he’s the cool teenage cousin I’m trying to tag along with.”
“That’s kind of an adorable image,” Buck says.
“Buck,” Eddie says, sounding unimpressed.
Buck laughs. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know what to say, I guess.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Eddie says. “I just can’t figure out what he wants.”
“Maybe you should just ask him. Like you said, he’s growing up.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He sounds so tired. If Buck could – if he could –
“I miss you,” Buck says.
A silence, and then Eddie says, almost a whisper, “I should go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Eddie says. “Good night.”
“Night,” Buck says, and Eddie’s gone, and Buck’s hugging his phone to his chest. And that’s the first day without Eddie.
For the second, third, and fourth days, Buck doesn’t hear from Eddie. Not even a random text, not a hello. Nothing.
He uses the time to get acquainted with the new shape of the world. Christopher’s departure left a gap, a space available for him to slip right back into whenever he chose. After Eddie leaves, it’s like the barriers of the world shrink. No space left for him, or for Christopher. He’s just gone. And the world that Buck lives in now is airy, and colorless, and very, very quiet. Everyone is very kind to him; of course they are, and they all miss Eddie too.
It takes him two days to break and tell Maddie. And by Maddie, he means Maddie, Chimney, Jee-Yun, and Misc. Fetus.
He’s over at their house, staring gloomily at a plate of food, and Maddie slaps her hands down on the counter in a determined way.
“Evan, this has to stop,” she says.
Buck pokes the food, which would be delicious if his tastebuds hadn’t been rewired to make everything taste like sand. “It’s been two days, Maddie.”
“Yeah, and if you were sad, I’d get it. If you were wallowing and being dramatic, I’d be completely unsurprised. This – “ A wave of her hand encompassing all of him. “ - is something else. You’re acting totally heartbroken.”
“Yeah, well,” Buck mutters to his plate, as Chimney comes in with Jee-Yun.
“Uncle Buck, stay still,” she says with determination, and starts using his legs as a jungle gym.
“Sure thing, Jee,” Buck says. When he looks up, he finds Maddie staring at him, Chimney looking back and forth between the two of them. “What?”
“Did you just say yeah?” Maddie says.
“I don’t mind. What’s the point of being this tall if you can’t double as playground equipment.” Buck takes a bite of food. With Jee-Yun in the room, it actually tastes kind of like food.
“Not to Jee.” Maddie’s eyes are expanding. “To you being heartbroken.”
Now they’re both staring at him. Buck gently moves his plate to one side so he can rest his forehead on the table. Jee-Yun’s face pops out from under the table’s edge, and she grins at him. He pokes her nose and she flees back under, giggling.
“Oh my god,” Chimney says. “Wait, does this mean – I was right? After all that, I was right? No one had better insult my deductive skills. Ever! Again!”
Maddie whispers something furiously, and Buck sits up. She’s saying something to Chimney, too quiet for him to hear, but the hand gestures are intense.
Chimney clears his throat and says, “Ignore that, everything I just said. What I meant was, are you okay, Buck?”
“Do we actually have to talk about this?” Buck asks. Jee-Yun is tugging at his shoes now, and he just lets her do whatever she’s doing.
“Yes we have to fu – freaking talk about it, Buck!” Maddie says, impassioned. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Yeah, was this just a realization, or a…” Chimney makes some inarticulate hand gestures.
Jee-Yun’s head pops out from under the table again. “What are you talking about?”
“Taxes,” Chimney says, and she makes a face, wandering to the next room and dumping out a bucket of blocks. His voice is gentler when he says, “Hey, man, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. We just wanna be there for you.” Maddie nods fervently.
“Um.” Buck says. He tries to think of nothing, and says, “The night before he left. We were hanging out. And we kissed.”
“Awwww,” Chimney says.
“Yeah, well. It kind of, uh, heated up, and we ended up,” Buck looks at Jee-Yun, who’s glancing over unsubtly from the next room. “Uh, kissing. And hugging. A lot. Like, you know. The big hug.”
“Think I got it,” Maddie says. Chimney mouths the big hug.
“He said he loved me,” Buck says, and fails to think of nothing for a second, and instead he thinks of Eddie’s voice breaking, the way he tried to smile. “I said it back. Then he left.”
“Oh, Evan,” Maddie says. She comes over and hugs his head to her front, and Buck tries to send happy thoughts to the little Misc. Fetus, and Chimney comes over too and grabs his hand and squeezes it, which isn’t something they really do but it doesn’t feel weird, not at all. It feels like a lifeline.
Tiny hands latch onto his elbow and he looks down to see Jee-Yun looking at him with big eyes. “Can I ask a testion?” she says, because she’s having trouble with the qu sounds.
“Of course, honey,” Chimney says.
“Uncle Buck, you kissed Eddie?” she says with incredulity.
“I sure did,” Buck says, and raises his eyebrows at Chimney, trying to impart dude are you raising a tiny homophobe? Chimney shrugs.
“But he’s so super old,” Jee-Yun says with such dismay that Buck bursts out laughing, and then they’re all laughing, with Jee-Yun’s little giggle over all.
“You know, Jee, I’m pretty old too,” Buck says.
Jee-Yun headbutts him in the thigh a few times and says, skeptically, “Okay…”
“And Eddie’s pretty cool.”
She stops headbutting. “So invite him over for a playdate.”
“That, that’s a good idea.” Buck detaches her gently. “I will have to think about that one.”
Maddie and Chimney are obviously clocking the way he’s sniffing back tears, but they don’t comment. They let him hide in the bathroom until he’s got a handle on himself again, and when he comes back out they actually have a halfway normal night, talking and playing games with Jee-Yun and having a glass of wine (and juice for Maddie) after she goes to bed. Maddie hugs him firmly when he leaves, and Chimney gives him a fistbump that somehow feels deeply loving. It’s better. It is actually better. Slightly.
When Buck was a kid, he always had Maddie. Then she left, but he still had calls and letters and visits to keep them connected. After she gave him the Jeep, though, all of that stopped. He didn’t hear from her. Not for three years.
He sent her letters and postcards and pictures that he might as well have been throwing down a wishing well for all the response he got. Buck got to the point where he almost forgot he had a sister; it hurt to think of her. He drove, and drove, and drove. He learned construction; he learned how to mix drinks; he gave up on being a Navy SEAL to the relief of all parties involved.
He moved to Los Angeles and he still didn’t have anyone, not really. There were his dumb dudebro roommates, who never had time for him, especially once he was at the fire academy and then working at the 118, and couldn’t get drunk and sleep until noon every day. He did actually have coworkers who liked him, but he wouldn’t figure that out for a while. And then he met Abby, and it was like feeling warmth for the first time in years. It felt like she really liked him, like she took him seriously as a partner and a person. She was like a tether to the earth, and when she slipped out of his life, he tried to hold on. He didn’t want to be alone again.
But he wasn’t. Because Maddie came back. Because he only got closer with the people he worked with, until they were the truest friends he’d ever had. And because of Eddie, who he only perceived as a gorgeous annoyance until he looked across an ambulance at him and something in the world shifted. Eddie, maybe the best gift the universe had ever given him. He’d never had a best friend before, not ever.
A couple days later, Buck ends his shift and finds four missed calls from Eddie, and when he calls back, Eddie picks up immediately.
“Hey,” Buck says.
“Hey, so,” Eddie says, sounding keyed-up, “I kind of had to tell Christopher about us, and I really hope it’s okay because it’s already done, and I would have asked except I didn’t have time.”
“Uh, okay?”
“We went swimming, it was just me and him,” Eddie says. Some sort of bewildered joy in his voice. “And then he saw – I still have a hickey. One I didn’t notice. He asked me about it, just fucking with me, I think, andI kinda freaked out? I didn’t know how he’d react, so I just didn’t say fucking anything. God.”
“What - “ Buck says, but Eddie cuts him off.
“He thought I was seeing Kim, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell him,” Eddie says. “He thought – God. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, I just, I couldn’t let him think that.”
“I get it,” Buck says. “It’s okay, dude. I mean, it is a little weird to have him know anything about my sex life.”
“Tell me about it,” Eddie says, and laughs with a note of hysteria. “Fuck. He practically interrogated me. How did it happen, who started it, what did it mean.”
“He likes the easy questions, that one,” Buck says wryly.
“My face was so fucking red you could fry an egg on it. I think that’s partly why he believed me.” Another wild laugh. “He actually said to me, ‘Get a grip, Dad, it’s just sex.’ I think I had a heart attack.”
“He loves winding you up,” Buck says, and takes a small, silent breath, releases it. “So. Uh. Do I get to interrogate you too?”
“Have some fucking mercy, man,” Eddie says, and then they’re both laughing. It peters out into a surprisingly comfortable silence.
“Was – was he mad? About you and me?” Buck asks a few moments later.
“Fuck if I know,” Eddie says. “I don’t think so? He stopped yelling at me, at least. Hopefully that’s a good sign. But if he starts texting you about it, that’s why.”
“What, no,” Buck says, and then adds, “It’d be nice to hear from him, though.” He swallows. “Can you tell him I said hi? If – if it seems like – I don’t want to make him more upset if he’s already mad about – you and me. Just if it seems – “
“Of course I’ll tell him,” Eddie says. “Don’t be stupid.”
The next day, Chris texts bros before hos dude and Buck inhales coffee.
“You good?” Hen asks from the kitchen.
“I’m good!” Buck chokes, and texts back Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying
I am
I’m ur bro
bros
before
hos
Please s top calling your dad a ho you’re doing psychological dmage to me
good thats what u get
like the psychological damage I got when I found out u banged my dad
Okay!
Let’s talk about something else
Tell me about Texas
And of course Chris stops responding.
“Teenagers these days,” Buck laments, and texts Eddie When did Chris get terrifying?
I have no idea but holy shit dude. also he saw your text and he loved it. pretty sure you just created a monster.
“What teenagers?” Chimney asks. Buck shakes his head.
There’s a little shift when he puts his phone down, like reality snaps back into place. Here he is. There Eddie is. And texting is great, he’s glad he has it, but he can’t live his life just staring into his phone waiting for Eddie to respond. There’s no solution to this. He misses Eddie; he can’t have Eddie. Hearing from Eddie, from Chris, feels like color coming back into the world, but when it’s gone things are greyer than they were before.
Two weeks later, Eddie calls again. It’s been days since they last texted.
“Sorry,” is the first thing Eddie says, and Buck can hear in that one word that he’s upset. “Is it too late?”
“It’s earlier here,” Buck says.
“Right,” Eddie says; and then nothing.
“How are things?” Buck asks eventually.
“We had a fight today. A bad one. He said – “ A low sound of hurt, and Buck sits up.
“Are you okay?” Stifled sounds through the phone; Eddie’s crying.
“He said,” Eddie manages, “he wishes I was the one that died. And none of this would have happened if I just.” Choked, hitching breaths. “Never came home from Afghanistan.”
“Eddie,” Buck says. “I – I’m sorry. But you know he doesn’t mean that, right? He’s upset. He wants you to be upset too.”
“But he’s right,” Eddie says in a rush. “His life would have been better, everything would have been better – for everyone if – “
After that there aren’t any more words, just the sound of Eddie crying like a child, and Buck almost offers to come over before he remembers that he can’t. He doesn’t have the key to Eddie’s house, he can’t break down his bedroom door, he can’t bandage his hands. All he has is the thin tether of this phone call.
“No,” Buck says, “no, don’t say that, please, I – I – I – Eddie, please don’t do anything – “ He can’t go on for a second. “Please don’t do anything you can’t take back. Tell me you won’t.”
It takes a long time, but the sound of sobbing slows and stops. “I won’t, I didn’t mean I’d…” Eddie’s voice is dead, that’s the only word for it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I’ll always worry about you,” Buck says. He takes a moment to cover his face with his hands and breathe, just breathe. He’s half thinking about up and driving to Texas fucking anyway; he’s heard that something in people’s voices before, not a tone of voice exactly, just a note of some horrible thing. He heard it in Maddie’s voice before she disappeared. He’s heard it in his own voice, usually shortly before he went out on his bike with no helmet or took his tenth shot of the night.
Buck distantly hears Eddie blowing his nose, clearing his throat. Then he comes back. “I’m okay,” he says, and this time he only sounds exhausted. “And you’re right. I know he loves me, I do. And I know he wanted to find something that’d hurt me. He just picked really fucking well.”
“I think it’s also like,” Buck says slowly. “Testing. Like, I’m not saying it’s okay. I think that’s a really fucked up thing for him to say.”
“Testing.”
“I said something like that to my dad once,” Buck says. “I was older than Chris. Maybe sixteen. We were fighting and I told him I hoped he died so I never had to see him again. He just told me to stop being dramatic. Like, it was an insane thing to say, but I was pretty much a kid. I wanted proof that he cared. Turned out he didn’t.”
“Jesus, Buck, I’m sorry,” Eddie says.
“I just mean, he doesn’t mean it. My dad’s a piece of shit and I didn’t even mean it. You guys are gonna work it out, I know you will.” And as Buck finishes his sentence, he figures out that he’s saying goodbye. Letting Eddie go.
“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Eddie says. He sounds determined even though he also sounds a little wrecked. Buck just knows that he’s planning, that he’s thinking about the future, his future, in Texas. “I’m never gonna stop caring about him, he has to know that. Maybe if he feels bad enough about yelling at me like that he’ll actually have a conversation with me.”
“Gonna, uh. Guilt him?”
“I think I’ve earned a small piece of light guilting after that,” Eddie says dryly. “He’s been hinting about Christmas, and I’ve just been, I don’t know. Scared to ask what he means. And at first I was like, he’s gonna tell me he loves it here, he’s gonna tell me he wants Christmas to be here forever. The thought really...”
It’s the closest they’ve come to talking about it. “Yeah,” Buck says.
“Yeah. I was freaking out about it, but now – “ Eddie cuts himself off, though, with a strange, giddy kind of laugh. “I kind of think – “
Eddie’s gonna be happy there, Buck thinks, sinking into a pit inside himself. He’ll have Christopher, he’ll be okay.
His phone lights up against his ear, and Buck closes his eyes in gratitude. “Hey, uh, Eddie? Sorry, Hen’s calling, can I hit you back?”
Buck exits that conversation in a haze and picks up. “Hey, Hen, what’s up?”
“Thank god for your insomniac ass,” Hen says. “I have a favor to ask.”
An hour later, he’s knocking softly on Hen’s door. She opens it and hugs him like he’s a life preserver.
“Thank you thank you thank you,” she whispers. “Of course they both come down with something as soon as Karen’s away at a conference...hold on, gimme like five minutes.” She takes the shopping bag of Pedialyte and children’s Tylenol and a new thermometer and creeps off.
It’s more like twenty minutes. Buck roams idly, looking at the bookshelves and all the many pictures on the walls.
Hen comes back and falls gratefully onto the couch. “I think they’re both in for the night, finally. Thanks again.”
“No problem,” he says.
She gives him a sharp look. “I thought you were just tired, but you kind of look like you got hit by a train. Everything okay?”
Buck gives an exhausted shrug. “Not really.”
“Eddie,” Hen says, not a question. Chimney definitely told her everything, and right now Buck is grateful for his friends’ total lack of boundaries. If he had to tell the story again and think about how Eddie kissed him and held him and told him he loved him –
“Yeah,” he says, the word barely making it out. “I really thought. I thought.” The air feels thin, insubstantial, his collar too tight. “I thought Chris would want to come back. I thought they’d. They’d. Come home. But.” He can’t breathe, sweating hot and freezing cold, and he’s tugging at his collar, and it’s not making any difference. “They’re never – they’re never – “
“Buck.” Hen is a lot closer now, and she takes his hands in hers. “You’re having a panic attack. Can you breathe with me?”
He shakes his head furiously. He can’t breathe. There’s no air.
“Buck, sweetheart, breathe,” Hen says, and other things that he can’t hear through the pounding in his ears.
The next thing he knows there’s something ice cold on the back of his neck and he gasps a full breath of air. “Shit, fuck,” he says, but he can breathe again.
“Welcome back,” she says. “I was getting pretty worried there. You wouldn’t say anything for a while.”
“It’s only been a minute.”
“It’s...been at least fifteen minutes,” Hen says. “You were pretty far in there. Look, Buck, I know this is all really scary. And I know I’m not Eddie, but I’m here for you, okay?”
“I want him back,” Buck says, and for like the fiftieth time since Eddie left, he starts to cry.
“That’s it,” Hen says. “You’re staying over. And don’t give me any shit about being a burden, you just brought me supplies at midnight, you are not going back to your empty apartment. We’re having a sleepover and drinking wine. Come on.”
They burrow into her bed with the wine bottle. “Just don’t spill any,” Hen says.
“Your kids are gonna be so confused if they find me in here,” Buck says.
“We should just pretend that you’re actually Karen if they do,” Hen says.
Buck laughs and does a voice. “Hey kids, I’m back. Did you know planets are a thing?”
“Is that my beautiful wife?” Hen says dramatically. “Sweetheart! Let me make love to you!” She tackles him semi-gently and Buck yelps and rolls away and right off the edge of the bed.
“You fucking killed me,” Buck groans, but he’s also laughing hysterically. Hen is on her back, laughing so hard she can’t speak.
“Your face,” Hen manages a minute later, “when you fell – “
There’s a tentative knock on the door, and they both fall silent. Stay there, Hen mouths.
“Mom?” comes a voice. Hen goes to the door and opens it.
“Denny, hey,” she says. “You okay?”
“Can I have another Tylenol?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Let me…” She comes and gets the bottle. Buck makes a ridiculous face at her, and she flips him off before she goes back to Denny. “Here you go. Do you need water?”
“No, I’m okay. Night, Mama.”
“Goodnight. I love you.” Hen comes back, and Buck lies back down on the bed with her. A moment later, they both dissolve into laughter again, as quietly as possible, and Hen holds his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. And he’s not alone. But.
When Maddie left the first time, Buck was alone, a powerless child living with parents who didn’t notice him if they could help it. He had friends at school, and girlfriends, and that one guy friend he kissed when he was drunk that he didn’t think about until over a decade later when Tommy kissed him – but he was still alone.
Buck learned to be easygoing. He was the guy who’d do any dare you gave him, as well as the guy who always had time for anyone who asked, and he was a class clown but sweet underneath, the way the girls liked, and, and, and. When he hit the right beats, people liked him, and he could feel the click when it just worked. He was how they wanted him to be. He was who they wanted him to be.
It wasn’t fake, or, well. It wasn’t only fake. He just put some parts of himself away, and they weren’t parts anyone would miss, so whatever. No one liked the kid who got so angry he had to be taken out of class, who screamed at teachers, who started crying suddenly for no apparent reason, who snapped leave me alone when people tried to talk to him. He put that kid away, or he tried to, and he didn’t realize he’d been that kid all along until a lot later. And by the time he did realize, he had friends, family, who’d seen every side of that annoying, angry, sad, desperate, lonely kid, and still liked him. Liked him for those things, sometimes.
So maybe that’s what keeps him something like together when Eddie leaves, even though it breaks his heart; that he knows another way for stories to go. He knows he doesn’t have to be alone. He knows that Maddie went away once, for three years of his life, and one day she came back, and even while she was gone, he still found good things in the world. He isn’t that young man, barely more than a kid, driving alone, sleeping alone, without a soul in the world to even know where he was. He’s got more than that now, and he’s learned a few more things about life.
He found out that sometimes people go away.
But sometimes –
Sometimes they come back.
Days pass. Weeks pass. And then it’s Christmas Eve.
Buck is having a dream, and he knows it’s a dream, but he’s happy to let it go on as long as it wants. Because Eddie’s in the dream with him. They’re at Eddie’s house and Eddie keeps looking at him and smiling in a way he hasn’t since before Chris left, and Buck is pretty sure he’s about to get kissed. There’s a watery sadness to it all, though, because he does know it’s not real. It’ll end and he’ll be left remembering dream-Eddie sitting here with him. Looking at him. Kissing him.
“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says.
“Hi,” Buck says, and smiles helplessly at dream-Eddie, who is wearing a suit that looks damn good on him.
But then he hears Eddie call his name behind him, and he looks around, and back, and Eddie’s gone. And that mournful feeling starts to take over. He didn’t even get to kiss him. He doesn’t want to wake up yet. But he hears it again -
“Buck!” and someone’s knocking on the door, and Buck reluctantly swims to consciousness.
“I’m coming!” he yells and traipses down the stairs, muttering under his breath. He’s still muttering, something like, “Chim, I am revoking your drop-in privileges, can’t a man go to bed at nine anymore when he’s fucking sad and lonely and – “
But when he opens the door, it’s Eddie. It’s him. Eddie Diaz. And every part of Buck’s body starts to light up, like stadium lights going on one by one, and the crowd is chanting, Ed-die, Ed-die, Ed-die.
“Hi, Buck,” Eddie says.
