Chapter Text
The next morning, The sun barely crept through the blinds, soft and pale, like it was afraid to touch the room.
TK sat on the edge of the bed tugging on his uniform pants, moving slower than usual. Everything in his body felt… dulled. Heavy. Like there was a layer of fog between his brain and the world. The buzz from last night was gone, but the guilt?
Yeah. That stuck around.
In the bathroom, he could hear Carlos brushing his teeth, humming some stupid little melody under his breath — off-key and happy, completely unaware that everything was different than it was yesterday.
TK’s stomach twisted so hard it almost sent him to his knees.
He stood, walked quietly to the dresser, and opened the drawer he’d shoved the pills into last night. The other two packs sat there untouched, stiff plastic catching the early light.
He hesitated.
Really hesitated.
His fingertips hovered over them, shaking — not from withdrawal, but from something worse: wanting it.
He swallowed.
Just one pack.
Just in case.
Just… a safety net.
He slid one between his fingers. The plastic was cool, too loud in the quiet. He closed the drawer softly, like he was afraid Carlos would hear the guilt.
From the bathroom, Carlos called,
“Ty? You almost ready, babe?”
TK’s breath caught.
He slipped the packet into his uniform pocket — smooth, practiced, shameful — the way an old habit slides back into your bones like it never left.
“Yeah,” TK called back, voice tight but steady enough. “Just grabbing my stuff.”
He pressed his hand over his pocket, feeling the tiny rectangular shape against his thigh. It felt like a weight. A secret. A bruise he was choosing to press.
Footsteps approached — the soft pad of Carlos walking down the hall.
TK straightened fast, forcing a casual posture as Carlos stepped out, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
Carlos smiled, bright and warm.
God. Too warm.
“Morning, handsome,” Carlos teased, stepping close enough to kiss his cheek.
TK stiffened — just for a second.
Just long enough for Carlos’ brow to twitch like he’d noticed, before TK leaned in and kissed him back.
“Morning,” TK said against his lips, trying to sound normal. Trying to sound like he wasn’t lying through his teeth.
Carlos softened, hands sliding to TK’s hips instinctively. “Sleep better?”
“Yeah,” TK lied instantly, too quickly. “Much, actually.”
Carlos’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, like he was scanning him — not intentionally, just from instinct. Cop instinct.
Boyfriend instinct.
TK looked away before those instincts found anything.
Carlos pressed a final kiss to his temple.
“Good. Let’s get moving before we’re late.”
TK grabbed his jacket, tugging it on, careful not to let the packet shift or crinkle.
As they headed toward the door, their shoulders brushing, Carlos laced his fingers through TK’s.
And TK felt the pills in his pocket burn like fire.
Not from withdrawal.
Not from craving.
From the fear that if Carlos squeezed his hand too tightly—
if he turned just a little too far—
if he looked too long—
He’d see everything TK was trying to hide.
Everything TK was about to lose.
—
— AT THE FIREHOUSE. —
The engine bay buzzed with the usual morning noise — boots on concrete, radios crackling, Judd laughing too loud at something Paul said, Nancy complaining about the coffee machine like it was her mortal enemy.
Normal. Familiar. Home.
But TK felt like he was walking through it all underwater.
He stepped into the station, duffel slung over his shoulder, the weight in his uniform pocket feeling ten times heavier than it actually was. Every shift of the fabric against the pack made his stomach clench.
He could practically hear the plastic.
Crinkle. Whisper. Reminder.
Judd waved from the other side of the bay. “Mornin’, TK!”
TK forced a smile that barely lifted one corner of his mouth. “Morning.”
He walked toward the lockers, every step oddly careful, as if one wrong move would make the guilt spill out in front of everyone.
As he pulled the locker door open, the metal creaked loudly — too loudly. His heart jumped. He shoved his bag inside and grabbed his turnout pants, movements stiff, too precise.
He felt watched even though nobody was actually watching him.
Paul walked by, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “Morning, brother.”
TK jerked at the touch — tiny, nearly invisible, but enough for Paul to notice the flinch. His eyes narrowed a bit.
“You good?” Paul asked casually… but not really casually.
“Yeah,” TK said too fast. “Didn’t sleep much. Nothing new.” He forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded normal.
Paul held his gaze for a second longer than usual. Then nodded slowly.
“Alright. Jus’ holler if you need anything.”
As soon as he walked off, TK exhaled shakily and leaned into the locker door, gripping the inside edge.
He hated this feeling.
The hiding.
The lying.
The fear clawing at his chest like something alive.
But just knowing it existed made the anxiety drop a notch. Not gone. Never gone. But quieter. Like having an escape hatch no one else could see.
Behind him, footsteps approached — light, determined.
Owen.
TK straightened fast, snapped his locker shut, and prayed the panic didn’t show on his face.
“Hey, TK,” Owen said gently, giving him a look that tried to be neutral but failed. It was too careful. Too searching.
TK felt his stomach twist.
“Morning,” TK muttered.
Owen’s eyes skimmed over him, scanning in that dad-way that always made TK feel transparent.
“You sure you’re feeling up to the shift?”
TK’s skin crawled.
He nodded hard. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
TK swallowed. Hard.
“I said I’m fine, Dad.”
Owen’s jaw tightened a little — not angry, just… worried.
More worried than TK could handle right now.
“Well,” Owen said softly, “if you need a break at any point today… just say so. No judgement. Understand?”
TK nodded stiffly.
Owen patted his shoulder, just once, then walked off.
As soon as he was out of sight, TK sagged onto the bench, elbows on his knees, breathing shallow. The buzz from last night was long gone, but the fear of being found out? That stayed along.
He just needed to feel in control — even though he wasn’t.
Not even close.
—— ( Later they were called to a call.)
and the call should’ve been easy.
A minor MVC, one person with a sprained wrist, another shaken up but refusing transport. Nancy handled most of it, Tommy took vitals, and TK… was there. Physically. Moving. Talking. Doing what he was supposed to.
But his brain?
His brain wasn’t on the scene.
It wasn’t on the patient.
It wasn’t on anything except the burning, gnawing, scratching thought stuck like a hook behind his ribs:
It’s in your pocket.
You could take it right now.
No one would know.
Every time someone said his name, he flinched.
Every time a pause fell between words, he felt sweat gather at the back of his neck.
By the time they cleared the call, his skin felt ten sizes too small.
The moment they pulled into the bay and the garage doors shut behind them, TK moved fast—too fast.
“I’m gonna, uh—restroom,” he muttered to Nancy before she could ask why his hands were shaking.
She barely got out a “Okay…? You good?” before he was already halfway across the room.
⸻
He shut the door behind him.
Locked it.
Turned the faucet on—just enough noise to drown out anything else.
He pulled the crushed bill from his uniform pocket with trembling fingers, then dug the oxy packet out. His breath shuddered. His heart kicked.
“Just a little,” he whispered to himself.
Lying.
Knowing he was lying.
He emptied the pill onto the counter.
His hands shook so hard it skittered before he managed to crush it with the back of his radio. Quick, practiced motions he hated himself for remembering so well.
He chopped it up. Neat lines. Clean enough.
The sight of it made his stomach twist—and made his pulse spike with relief.
He rolled the bill tight.
Leaned down.
Closed one nostril.
Brought the bill to the first line.
Just one breath away from slipping.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He inhaled—
—
The door swung open.
“Hey, TK, have you seen—”
Mateo froze.
TK froze.
The bill still pressed to his nose.
The powder still lined up on the counter.
The guilt still burning in his eyes.
Mateo’s face fell—confusion first, then shock, then something worse.
“…TK?”
Barely a whisper.
The rolled dollar slipped from TK’s hand and hit the counter.
TK’s whole body went cold, and all the blood drained from his face.
Mateo blinked hard, breath shaking, like his brain couldn’t catch up with what his eyes were seeing.
“TK.. what are you doing?”
His voice cracked.
TK stepped back from the counter so fast he almost stumbled, heart ricocheting in his chest.
“Mateo—”
His voice broke. “Please—don’t. Please.”
Mateo looked like he’d been punched.
“Are you—” he swallowed, eyes flicking from the powder to TK’s pupils, wide and desperate— “are you using again?”
TK’s breath snapped in and out, too fast. His hands shook violently.
“I—I wasn’t—this isn’t—” He dragged a hand over his face, panic rising like a tide. “Please, just—don’t tell anyone. Please, Mateo. Please.”
Mateo didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t blink.
He just stared at him like the ground cracked under both of them.
“TK…”
Mateo’s voice wavered, soft and cracked at the edges.
“This isn’t right… I— does Cap— or Carlos know you’re using again? I—”
That hit the fuse.
TK’s head snapped up, eyes blazing with panic disguised as anger.
“I’M NOT FUCKING USING, MATEO!”
The shout ricocheted off the tile.
Too loud.
Too fast.
Too defensive.
And the lie hung in the air like smoke.
Because the powder was right there.
Right between them.
Right where his denial couldn’t reach.
Mateo flinched—not from fear, but from heartbreak. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, then closed again. His chest rose and fell too quickly, trying to find a steady breath that wasn’t coming.
“TK…” he whispered, gentler now, as if tone alone could stop the spiral.
TK’s throat worked, once, twice, like he wanted to scream again—or collapse. His hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles whitened.
“I wasn’t— I wasn’t gonna—”
The sentence tripped, fell apart, crashed into silence.
Mateo stepped forward one shaky inch, voice barely above a breath.
“TK, you don’t have to lie to me, man. Not about this. I’m not gonna yell or— I’m not gonna judge you. I just— I need to know you’re okay.”
TK’s eyes flicked away, jaw trembling, breath coming in stuttered bursts. The panic wrapped around him like barbed wire.
“Mateo,” he whispered hoarsely, voice cracking right down the center, “please don’t tell Cap. Please don’t tell Carlos.”
Mateo swallowed hard, guilt ripping through him.
“TK… I don’t know if I can keep that from them..”
And TK’s face broke.
Mateo froze.
Because TK didn’t just look scared—
he looked destroyed.
Eyes glassy, breath shaking, shoulders caving inward like the weight of the entire room was pressing down on him.
“Mateo, please—you don’t understand.”
TK’s voice cracked, raw and desperate.
“I’ll get kicked off the 126— and Carlos? H-he’ll leave me. And it’s gonna be your fault.”
That landed like a punch.
Mateo’s stomach dropped.
TK stepped forward, hands trembling like he couldn’t hold himself together.
“Mateo, please… listen, it was just this once—”
Except they both knew it wasn’t.
Not really.
Not with the way his pupils were blown and his fingers were twitching like he needed another hit just to breathe.
“Please—” TK pushed on, panic spilling faster than he could rein it in.
“I’m done— I’m done, I swear. I’m gonna get help. Okay? Okay!? Just— please don’t tell anyone. Please.”
His voice buckled on that last word.
Not dramatic.
Not manipulative.
Just terrified.
A man cornered by his own demons, begging the closest person not to light the fuse.
Mateo’s breath stuttered.
He’d never seen TK like this.
Not in the fires, not in the disasters, not in the worst calls.
This wasn’t fear of danger.
This was fear of losing everything.
“TK..” Mateo whispered, chest tightening, eyes burning. “I— I wanna believe you.”
TK’s chin trembled.
One tear slipped down before he could wipe it away.
Mateo took a slow breath, trying to steady both of them.
“But I don’t know if believing you is enough right now.”
TK flinched like he’d been hit.
Mateo stepped closer, voice soft but firm, the way someone speaks to a wounded animal they don’t want to spook.
“I’m not gonna abandon you. I’m not gonna yell. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. But I can’t pretend I didn’t see this.”
TK’s breath hitched.
A small, broken sound escaped him—half sob, half gasp.
“… we can figure this out. But you can’t put this all on me.” Mateo’s voice shook with emotion. “I love you, man. You’re my brother. You don’t get to drag me into hiding this. That’s not fair.”
TK covered his face, shoulders shaking.
And Mateo—soft, terrified, overwhelmed Mateo.
placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder.
“You can talk to me— but.. i’ve gotta tell someone.”
then he whispered, voice shaking but steadier than before, “I can’t hide this. I can’t. And you know Owen—he’d kill me if I kept something like this from him.”
TK’s heart plummeted straight through the floor.
He shook his head fast, too fast, breath hitching.
“Matty—please—”
But Mateo held up a trembling hand, not to silence him, but to keep himself from falling apart.
“Listen,” he said softly, voice thick with emotion, “I’m gonna tell Cap. I have to.”
TK blinked hard, breath stuttering.
Pain flashed across his face—raw, terrified, betrayed.
But then Mateo took a small step forward, and his voice gentled even more.
“But I want you with me.”
TK froze.
Mateo swallowed, forcing himself to meet his eyes.
“I don’t want him hearing this just from me,” he said. “You deserve to explain your side, T. To say something before everyone starts… figuring it out their own way.”
TK stared, chest rising and falling like he couldn’t catch enough air.
Mateo pressed on, his voice tight:
“If I go alone, all he’s gonna get is my version. And that’s not fair to you. You should be in the room. You should be the one to tell him why this happened.”
He hesitated.
“I’m offering you that. I—I want you there.”
TK’s lip trembled.
Not dramatic, not loud—just a tiny, broken twitch that said everything.
He looked down at the counter, at the powder, at the rolled-up bill, at the life he swore he’d never go back to.
And then he whispered, barely audible:
“…I don’t think I can face him.”
Mateo’s voice cracked right down the middle.
“… that’s exactly why you need to.”
He stepped closer, gently—no judgment, no anger—just a friend hurting for someone he loves.
“Come with me,” Mateo murmured. “Please. Don’t make me walk in there alone with this.”
For a moment, everything was silent.
Just TK breathing too fast.
And Mateo trying not to cry.
“okay.” TKs voice, so small.