Chapter Text
Eddie had known that letting go of thirty years of repression and unreleased feelings was going to feel good. And yes, it had felt liberating in ways that he never could have imagined. But still, there was something that didn’t quite feel like it should. He couldn’t quite put a name on it. Although Hen had said he could go to her for anything, he’d already had his fair share of pep talks for the week and even if the Hen that lived in his head said that didn’t matter, his own voice was louder.
So he stewed in his weird feeling, being unable to name that itch that lingered under his skin. They had gone to a gay bar to celebrate and instead of feeling that everything had finally clicked into place it had made everything feel worse, like he needed to scrub his skin off if someone invited him to dance with too much flirtation intent. He could just say it was a lot and he was overwhelmed and while that excuse seemed to work for most people (at least enough to get them to leave the subject alone for now), there was one notable exception.
As always.
“Hey, I think I saw a dart board somewhere round here if you fancy a round?”
There was Buck, eyes shining in the rainbow lights, curls freed by the sweat in the air, offering an out.
Eddie nodded and hoped his smile said how grateful he was.
Buck led them through the crowds towards a tiny little space in the back corner that was quieter, everyone else crowding towards either the bar or the dance floor. The dart board was miraculously free. Buck picked up the darts and offered them to Eddie to go first. He let Eddie get into the swing of it and only broached the subject when he was throwing his first dart. “You good?”
It shouldn’t have been such a loaded question. Objectively, he was good. He was freer than he’d ever been, everyone had been so supportive and understood in ways he never thought they could. And yet…
“I don’t know.”
Buck turned to smile, darts still held loose in his hand. “That’s allowed, you know? It’s a big adjustment going from not knowing to finally accepting.”
“Guess I just thought it might feel different.”
“Different how?”
“Jesus Buck, I don’t know. I couldn’t even openly say I was gay till my mid-30s.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Buck laughed back. He turned and threw his last dart, barely looking at where on the board he was aiming and yet accidentally getting just shy of the bullseye anyway.
He threw his last one and went to collect them, plucking them out the board when he spoke again. “When I first came out I expected things to feel different too. I’d spent ages lying to everyone but myself and when it got too much I had to let people in. I thought it would take away the guilt at keeping it inside, or help make up for the time when I was hiding parts of myself from myself but nothing can do that. Saying things now doesn’t mean it’s a time machine to all those times you could have but didn’t, but it makes it easier to be free.”
“You’ve never told me that before.”
Buck turned at that. “I didn’t think you needed to hear it until now. It’s your journey, Eddie. No one can live it for you or tell you how it’s meant to feel. But if you tell me that something doesn’t feel right, that's okay. I’ll be here to help you figure it out.”
“And what if I can’t. What if I just keep feeling like somethings wrong with me forever?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Eddie,” Buck reminded him furiously, an echo of the night Eddie had come out to him. “You’re exactly who you’re meant to be.”
Eddie bit his lip and stared at the dart board behind Buck, trying to make out the indents of the darts in the low light of the bar. He was trying to be more honest, with himself as much as everyone else, but he didn’t know where to start. How could he explain that he had finally voiced the things he always feared were true but he couldn’t let himself revel in it? That he didn’t want to chase after a stranger’s smile, or sign up for some dating app. He could flirt back with his barista but when that felt like it was actually going somewhere he had to hastily pull the plug. He thought the whole point of being out was actually being out so how could he explain that he felt like he was still doing everything wrong.
He had never butterflies before or felt his skin tingle out of anticipation because he was so eager and nervous to be around someone. He’d just chalked it up to compulsive heterosexuality. But that feeling was still there.
“You can talk to me, if you want,” Buck offered, extending the handful of darts.
Eddie wordless reached out and took them and there it was. The electricity that made his stomach fall to the floor as their fingers touched.
But then Eddie was holding the darts and Buck’s hand was by his side and the feeling disappeared like a winter sunset. Slowly, slowly, then all at once.
Eddie took a deep breath. Threw one dart and then the other. He had the last one poised when his hand fell. He started turning the dart around his hand and Buck, ever patient Buck, stood waiting.
“I guess I just spent so long telling myself I was wrong that it still feels like that somehow. And I don’t think it’s just my self-consciousness or whatever Frank would call it. It’s not like I thought coming out would make everything magically better but maybe I thought being gay Eddie would make more sense than being straight Eddie.”
“Eds, you know it’s not like you just flicked a switch and suddenly the whole world’s a rainbow. Some people come out once and that’s them and for other people it’s ever changing and developing.” Buck took a step forward and another, and on impulse reached out to hold Eddie’s hands in his own. “You know it doesn’t have to be that simple right? It’s not just a straight line from one thing to another.”
“Was that a deliberate pun?” Eddie laughed softly in reply, staring at the dart in his hands to avoid looking at Buck just yet.
“I’m bi. Of course it was,” Buck grinned back before becoming more serious again. “But even that’s flexible. Some bis have a preference for women and some for men but that doesn’t make anyone more or less bisexual. Or biromantic for that matter.”
“Wait, what’s the difference?” Eddie asked, looking up at Buck and trying to ignore just how close he was.
“Sexuality is for sexual attraction but romantic attraction can be separate and different for some people.”
“It can?”
“Yeah it can. I know plenty of people who fit along one romantic spectrum and another sexuality spectrum.”
“So where do you sit?”
“Bisexual and biromantic. For some people it matches up.”
“And for others?”
“It doesn’t.”
Buck was still watching Eddie carefully, as though weighing each word before he said it in case that was going to be the one to break. “But that’s for you to discover for yourself. But just know that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, Eddie. I promise.”
And for a moment, tucked in the back of a gay club on a random Monday night, weirdly holding hands with a dart cradled between them, Eddie believed him. But there was something more behind Buck’s words, as though Eddie wasn’t the only one figuring things out. He looked at Buck, turning their joined hands over slightly so it was less of a cradle and more of a tentative but proper hand hold. Eddie looked at their hands slotted together, even with the bulk of the dart in the way, and finally felt like something had slotted into place. He looked at Buck who was similarly looking at their conjoined hands like he was noticing something for the first time before he lifted his eyes to where Eddie was waiting. Buck licked his lips and Eddie could not have pretended to watch it if his life depended on it. Buck opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head as though he’d changed his mind.
The lights flashed pretty overhead, the rainbows dancing over them both in the safety of the bubble they’d made.
But then a glass broke at the bar, Buck jumped back at the noise and that was it. The moment was shattered.