Chapter Text
Losing someone is... messy.
It's hurting the people around you because, frankly. You don't want them close. Not because they could hurt you, tear you to pieces, build you up, and break you all over again, no. Because they leave—everyone always leaves, willingly or not willingly.
Sometimes people get so wrapped up in all the insanity of it, the endless questioning, not if they're going to leave but, when. That they... might lose sight of themselves. That they might start acting weird.
They might get angry, explode, or try to hurt those around them, just to keep them at arms length. They might cling to that one thing they have left with all of their might and suffocate it in the process.
It means getting grabbed by the collar in the middle of your—his, Eddie's— Buck's... someone's kitchen.
It's your best friend trying to make it right by bringing the kid you share— his kid—to cheer you up and then sitting in the awful silence where you know you're both hurting. Because of the circumstances... of what you said and what you did.
It's deciding to go away to El Paso again for a job the best friend didn't know of.
It's going for a drive in the middle of the night to find your kind-of-sister May crying on the side of the road.
It's getting home and having a fight with your best friend because he was worried and—
"Eddie I can go for a drive whenever the fuck I want!" And they're cursing now! This is going so great!
"It is 3 am, Buck!" Eddie hisses back. They're yelling as quietly as they can because, Christopher is asleep, and neither of them wants to wake him.
So it's just hissing and whisperyelling, which they both actually want to be louder; they want to try and get their point across.
What are they fighting about anyway? Buck is a grown man! He can do whatever the fuck he wants, and Eddie really has no say in the matter.
"And I can go on a drive whenever I want." Eddie just groans, pushing his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. Is Buck acting dumb or just dumb? "What if something happened?" He's seething now, taking a step forward.
Buck reacts almost instantly, backing away ever so slightly. He really wasn't about to get grabbed by the collar again. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, it brings back... memories.
Memories of his teenage years, of his dad, even of Bobby when he shoved him into a wall that one tim—
"DAMMIT, SAY SOMETHING!" Eddie jumps as if he's been struck. He hadn't meant for it to come out so loud. They stay quiet, eyes darting to the hallway; Buck even leans to the side to get a good look at Christopher's door.
Nothing, no footsteps, no creaking of floorboards. "I don't know what you want me to say."
And Eddie just looks so angry; he seems to be anything but a fan of that response. In an attempt to control his anger, he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving as his fists clench and unclench.
Was he about to hit him? It looks strangely similar to the moment in the grocery store, and it just—steals Buck's breath away. And not in a good way.
That day Eddie had been... pretty on the nose with his words. With one sentence he'd somehow managed to rip open so many old wounds. All at the same time. Some of them, Buck even forgot he had, thinking they got patched up long ago.
That was wrong apparently, because the moment Eddie locked eyes with him in that cold white light, about 5 of them had ripped open spontaneously, even without the words that had followed shortly after.
Eddie seemed to be good at that. Hit you where it hurts, dig up Buck's biggest insecurities, and use them against him as if he'd read his diary or something.
Eddie is shaking "Sorry? F-for worrying you? For worrying Christopher?"
Oh...
Buck's shoulders slump; he can hear something crack in his shoulder. "He's been waiting for you for his goodnight hug, and where were you?" He... didn't know that.
He'd actually thought that Chris had become too old for that? He was no longer a kid; he was a teenager now. He avoided hugs, ducked away from them ruffling his hair, and it had...loosened something in Buck.
An old, old fear that at the time had seemed stupid but now... "Look, I'm sorry, okay. I just needed to clear my head." And somehow the way Eddie's eyes soften hurts more than whatever word he could say ever would.
He's pitying him.
"I think you should talk about it to someone"—very hypocritical coming from Eddie! He isn't exactly the queen of going to therapy. "I've been going to sessions." Buck finally says, "I've talked about Bobby and the lab—"
"You should talk about us as well." Buck almost gives himself a whiplash with how quickly he snaps his head up. Us? He couldn't help but hate how his heart speeds up, there's a little bit of hope that sparks somewhere deep in his soul. After all, Maddie had been quite right about his feelings. Not that he'd ever tell her that.
"U-us?" He stammers, "Yeah." Eddie finally seems to settle a bit. Instead of towering over Buck, looking ready to pounce. And again not in a good way. "About me and Chris going back to El Paso and all that."
Yes, of course... how stupid of him.
Buck just hopes Eddie hadn't noticed the tears welling up in his eyes as he storms off to Chris's room to give him that hug he so desperately wanted.
The darkness of the room has wrapped itself around a little body lying in the middle of the bed. It's like a dark blanket.
Whispering apparently hadn't been necessary because Chris is wide awake.
Big eyes stare at the figure in the doorway. "Buck, you're home." He says, no sleep detected in his voice. "Yeah, bud." He simply answers, shuffling over to drop down next to the bed. "I thought you left." The kid whispers quietly.
Buck's knee clicks as he tries to find a more comfortable position next to the bed "I'd never leave you buddie." It's true, he wouldn't, not willingly, but the truth is—"Everyone leaves Buck."
And god... Buck just wishes he could make all of that disappear.
"Dad did, and then mom... and Bobby."
Buck just wishes he could hug his— the kid—and make all his worries go away. Kiss his booboo and forget about it, but that isn't how it works. Not really.
"Oh bud, I—" What is he to say? Should he lie? "Your dad loves you so, so much." He hates how his voice cracks at that statement, hates how the tears threaten to flow down his face. "You are everything to him; I hope you know that." He leans over, fingers treading through Chris's hair softly and surprisingly, the kid doesn't back away; he even leans into it a bit.
Big eyes staring up at him, contemplating if he should— "and so did your mom you know, and Bobby. They didn't want to leave, I know that with 100% certainty."
But Chris claps back "Nothing is a 100% certain." At least he's been paying attention in school... "Well—" Buck shuffles around again, leaning down to take another good look at the kid "— love is an exception to that rule." He manages a little smile, one that gets sent right back.
The sheets rustle as Chris pulls them up higher, still leaning into the warm touch. "We're going back to El Paso." It's such a quiet whisper that Buck almost missed it. Yeah... they're going back. "I-I know." It takes every fiber of his being to stop him from letting out a truly horrendous sob.
Just before Chris can say anything else. Buck leans over and plants a firm kiss in his curls. "Get some sleep, you have school tomorrow." And with that, he stands up, knees clicking, muscles screaming and aching.
Just before he leaves, Chris whispers, "I love you Buck."
"Love you too Superman."
As the door clicks shut, he kind of hopes for a bit of rest. Some alone time, a moment to just... breathe, but no. Of course.
How dare Evan "Buck" Buckley ask the universe for some leeway. At the end of the hall, stands Eddie. He's looking at him strangely. He'd been doing that quite a while now. Giving him that soft look. His eyes softening and turning down a bit while the corners of his very, very, very kissable lips turn up.
"You kind of ran." He mumbles.
Glad to know Eddie's eyes are still working!!
No, he isn't about to give in. He's mad; he is allowed to be mad! "I'll sleep on the sofa." He pushes past his best friend, shoulders touching ever so slightly.
Never before had May been so glad for Buck's charm. She had all but been looking forward to going to school again. All the painful sad little looks, the pity, the "My condolences"—like my guy, you didn't even know him. What are you saying fucking sorry for?
She should start answering with things like "Omg did you kill him?" Just to make them leave her the fuck alone. College was supposed to be fun, to be a new start. Not a new start followed by "Omg that's the girl that"—
"My condolences, Ma—" "WILL YOU STOP!" She slams her locker door so fucking hard it echoes through the hallway. Florence stands there, wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing like that of a goldfish. "Jeez May, she was just trying to be nice." Rachel adds, leaning herself up against the locker.
"Sorry I just." No, why was she saying sorry? She's allowed to be pissed at them! "Everyone's just been saying it, and I— I just can't okay!" Once again that came out with a lot more fire than she had anticipated.
Maybe she should've given Buck that word vomit; maybe then her friends wouldn't look at her as if she's gone completely off the rocker.
"Look, May." Rachel pushes herself upright; May swears she can hear the lockers creak dangerously under the weight "It's been what? Five months?"
Four, actually.
"I think you should—"
"What?!" She hollers, ready to slam this witch's head into the fucking locker. If she's lucky, it'll leave an indent as big as the bitch's ego. "Chill out?! Believe me, for the situation I am in, I AM CHILL!!"
She can already feel blood gather under her nails; her palms must be turning fucking white thanks to the death grip she's got them in. "And it has been four months, Rachel. Four months since I lost my dad!! So don't fucking dare tell me to move on!"
Both girls stand there, angrily trying to stutter a sentence into existence: "Yeah, because that's what you were going to say!"
"Jeez May, just." Defeated, almost, Florence lifts her hands "Look, losing someone is hard, I get it—"
"But that's the point, Florence." She spits the name out, venom slipping out of her mouth. She's blowing everything up, and the fun thing is, she doesn't care. What does it fucking matter anyway?? "You don't get it!"
"Just calm down, okay?" Rachel finally manages to spit out. "Sorry, okay, let's just go, we're going to be late for class." Fair... she had a point.
With her head sinking down further between her shoulders, she trails after the two girls. Bloodied nails grasping onto her laptop with all her might.
The only thing she has to do is get through today. Breathe in, breathe out.
She can do this.
She can't do this.
Everything is just URRGHHH.
The stares, the whispers, and the sympathetic smiles. Most of these idiots even glance over to her when someone mentions the word 'dad' or 'parents' even the word 'firefighter' has become a fire hazard. Pun very much intended, by the way.
If they're going to act ridiculous, the least she can do is find the little bit of humor left in this raging, fiery dump, thank you very much.
"One more hour," she tells herself.
She got through about 10 minutes of the sleep-inducing lecture before she decided to book it. Shoes thumping loudly as she rushes down the stairs of the far too big lecture hall.
If any of her co-students hadn't gotten the absolute privilege to stare her down yet, now was their chance. What better way to give someone a once-over when that someone is doing the rush-hour equivalent of a catwalk down the way-too-creaky stairs? She slams those also-way-too-creaky doors with the gracefulness of that same catwalk model, only with the attitude dialed up to a hundred.
If someone so much as BREATHES in her direction, she's going to rip their FUCKING—
A little 'ping' makes her stop dead in her tracks. It was as if something... it sounded mentally, like a coin.
And surely when she turns, there it is.
That silvery shine almost blinding her as it lies there on the floor, begging to be picked up. She'd almost completely forgotten about it... Buck's charm.
She hunches over to pick it up, once again feeling its weight in her palm. It isn't very heavy, but it is heavy enough to ground her just a little bit.
She rubs her finger across it, and she gets why Buck likes it so much. It's textured, just a little bit, enough to focus on, not enough to overstimulate.
Right, Buck...
She wasn't planning on calling him. Not so soon after their talk anyway, she thought she might be able to hold the whole preach that was sure to follow off a bit longer.
Guess she was wrong, because Buck's jeep turns into the parking lot without much issue.
Expectantly he opens the door for her, and she wouldn't be nice if she didn't accept the ride from him.
She expects him to go right to yapping as he always does. To be fair, Buck does always have sweet fucking drama. Where he gets it, not even the gods know, but it is very entertaining, unless you are the drama, of course.
Now though, he's quiet. He just stares at the windshield, driving slowly but confidently. This is a first... she wants to make a jab, maybe? To lighten him up, something along the lines of "Cat got your tongue?"—no, that's a bit too chipper.
"Are you still too cool to ask for help?"
Oh hell nha!! Her lips are already parted, the first syllables of a curse word running off of her tongue, but she snaps it shut under the amuzing gaze.
Right, Buck is not her mom. Buck is—... well, Buck!
He's glancing over. Lips pulled in such a cocky grin that she wants to wipe it off so badly.
"Watch the road, why don't you~" She singsongs back, sliding down into the comfortable seat. "What..." She swallows; it makes a weird little 'nck' sound that sounds straight out of a cartoon. "What are those groups like anyway?"
She is half expecting for Buck's grin to turn into a maniacal laugh, but he stays calm, almost blank. "It's... nice." She's never heard him speak so softly before.
It's such a contrast from the usually loud and present Buck that she is a little bit taken aback. "Come on." He clicks the door open; May hadn't even noticed they'd arrived somewhere.
"Buck wha—" but she gets shut up by a dismissive wave. The keys click, and the door, Eddie's door, more specifically, swishes open.
She's... never actually been in their home before; it's alive in some way.
Christopher's shoes are thrown to the side in haste, a stark contrast to Eddie's neatly aligned ones next to the door. Buck's are less neat, which explains where Chris gets it from.
The sun filters through the blinds; it reflects and bounces around the room like it is restless, moving constantly.
Blankets are scattered on the sofa; it looks like someone slept in it. Before she can mention anything about that, though, Buck hurries over to some boxes stacked at the end of the hallway next to Chris's room. "The groups aren't easy." Buck mumbles.
Objects clink and rattle as he digs through the box in haste. Moving on to the one next to it when he can't seem to find what he's looking for. "It's emotional, it's draining, and it makes you want to scream and cry and— aha!"
Quite triumphantly he pulls out a paper; it looks worn. Not at all something someone would keep. Especially not for so long, seeing as the paper has turned a dull yellow. "But it helps, or at least I think it does; the people there do."
Almost ceremonially he hands her the little paper. She can't really read it; the handwriting looks like it could belong to a child or a man. Because let's be honest, it's the same type of writing style.
On the back is a faint, childlike drawing, a circle with some stuff in it. "I might've, you know, never mind. Someone who works there gave it to me; if you give that and say it comes from me, they'll let you join for free."
She stares down at it, fingers carefully curled around it. "B-but Buck!" She hadn't meant to stammer so much, but "First the charm and now this I can'—"
"But you can." He says, ushering her back to the door, "That's the point." She tries to protest, tries to wriggle her way out of his arms, but he insists.
"You don't have to use it, but I'd sleep well knowing you can just... go there. No need to pay or figure out any other logistics. You can just go."
If anyone asks... she didn't cry.
"B-Buck I—" she blubbers, trying to figure out how to hold onto the paper safely while not getting snot or tears on it as she—again, she wasn't crying.
"I'll give you a ride home; come on."