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‘Chris,’ says Alyssa, snapping her gum, ‘you never told me your dad was so hot.’
They’re hanging out by the lake in Echo Park and they're running out of shit to talk about if they're on this topic now. Chris isn't surprised, at a certain point in the last few years he realized Dad was someone people found attractive. He's younger than a lot of his friends’ parents and a firefighter, which everyone is always impressed by when it basically just stresses Chris out.
‘Oh, have you not seen Chris’s dad before?’ says Dylan.
Dad had dropped Chris off earlier, waving goofily to Dylan, Kristen and Alyssa before he gave Chris a hug and told him to be good. It was kind of embarrassing and Chris wishes he wouldn’t but they’re in a good place since they came back from Texas and Chris doesn’t want to spoil it by refusing to hug in front of his friends. He missed his Dad, and Buck and LA, and he still can't shake the lingering fear that the whole thing was his fault somehow. Not the Kim of it all, but the leaving and then staying away for so long.
What he says to Dylan is, ‘shut up.'
‘Wait 'til you see his other dad,’ puts in Kristen.
‘He’s not my other dad, he’s just Buck.'
Although, there has been a vibe since they got back from El Paso and with them all living together, Dad and Buck hovering and circling around each other in a way that’s new. They’ve been sharing the bedroom at home and leaving the door ajar, which Chris feels is needlessly pointed, like he’s the parent and they’re the teenagers proving they’re not getting up to anything. Chris’s whole existence indicates his Dad’s track record on Getting Up To Things. Not that he wants to think about that. It's just. He really hates the idea his Dad is keeping stuff from him again. Especially something like this. Something that will change everything.
‘That’s cool you have gay dads,’ says Alyssa, like Chris didn’t even say anything.
‘They’re not gay!’ he hisses, which sounds way worse than he means it to.
‘Okay, homophobic,’ says Dylan and he’s joking, he knows Chris doesn’t mean it like that.
‘They’re not–,' Chris shrugs, 'Buck is bi. My Dad, I don’t know.’
It feels like even that is too much to say out loud, a secret that isn't his to share, but it's not like he can just ask, after everything. Hey, Dad, are you gay now? Are you dating Buck? Were all those girlfriends just a lie you were telling yourself? Why haven't you told me?
‘Should we try and Parent Trap them?’ says Kristen.
‘We are not Parent Trapping my parents!'
Dylan nudges his arm, grinning, ‘well, if they’re already your parents we don’t need to, do we.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Chris says, actually frustrated now. He contemplates storming off but it’s not like he can get anywhere fast and they’d just follow him anyway.
'I'm bored,' says Alyssa, redirecting the conversation and Chris is grateful for it. She swings her braids from one shoulder to the other as she speaks. Some of them have little gold hoops threaded through them that catch the light when she moves.
Alyssa is new. Her family just moved to LA from Arizona, which is kind of fun and makes Chris feel less out of step after how long he’s been away. When there are in-jokes he doesn’t get neither does she and she’s never afraid to demand an explanation. Plus, she's funny and they like a lot of the same stuff.
'Jake said maybe they're going to the movies? With Annabeth, Caleb and Nikhil,' says Kristen, 'that new Marvel thing,' she pokes Dylan's arm, 'Dylan, message him.'
Dylan dutifully gets out his phone, 'what time is your dad picking us up, Chris?'
'Four,' Chris says, checking his watch, 'twenty minutes.'
'Okay, cool. We can ask him to drive us.'
*
It’s Buck who picks them up, everyone climbing into his truck, and Chris hesitates.
He's asked Buck for permission to do things before but they all live together now and something has shifted in the way they relate to each other. They didn't keep in touch much while Chris was in Texas, a few messages here and there, but Chris did miss him; he's not so naive as to believe Buck is his best friend like he thought when he was a kid but his relationship with Buck is different to his one with Chim or Hen or any of his Dad's other friends, always has been.
Everyone is looking at him expectantly so he has to say something, the silence dragging awkwardly, 'can you take us to the movies? Instead of dropping everyone home.'
'Uhh,' Buck pauses like it's occurring to him too, how he's always been parent-adjacent but in an undefined way and now they maybe need to define it, 'how long is the movie?
Without looking up from his phone Dylan says, 'two hours with previews. It starts in 40 minutes.'
'And everyone else's parents said it was okay?' Buck looks seriously at Kristen and Dylan in the rear view mirror and they both nod.
‘Yeah, my mom is cool with it,’ says Alyssa from the front seat.
Buck catches Chris's eye, 'we'll be by to pick you up, okay? We're having dinner at your Tía Pepa's.'
'I remember,' says Chris.
Buck is a responsible adult but not his parent. Buck is allowed to tell him yes to going to the movies with his friends and he's reminding Chris about dinners with his aunt. He's invited to those dinners, he lives in Chris's house and shares a room with Chris's Dad and Chris is not stupid. He's seen how these things go before. He just wishes they'd tell him the truth so he can prepare for the inevitable.
*
'Thanks, Mr Diaz,' says Alyssa as they pull up outside the movie theater.
Chris looks at her with alarm but she’s very pointedly looking away, opening the passenger side door. Kristen and Dylan are already out of the car and the rest of their friends are hanging around by the entrance, waving at them to hurry up. The movie starts in ten minutes and they still have to buy tickets.
‘Oh,’ the tips of Buck’s ears are very red, ‘Mr Diaz is Eddie–er–Chris’s Dad. I–I'm just Buck.’
‘Right. Sorry, I thought you guys were married,’ Alyssa says easily.
‘Alyssa,’ Chris hisses through his teeth although he's not sure she can hear him or if she's on purpose ignoring him as she steps out of the truck.
‘Ha. No. No, just best friends,’ says Buck after her and in the rear view mirror Chris can see he looks a little panicked, swallowing it as he yanks at his seatbelt, getting out to come help Chris with his crutches.
Chris briefly wonders if he should apologize but it'd only draw attention to it; the thing they haven't been talking about.
On the sidewalk Buck slips him $20, 'we'll be here, ten past seven, okay?'
'Okay, Buck.'
'Okay,' Buck ruffles his hair, 'have fun.'
*
There isn't space in the theater for them to all sit in one row and the lights are already dimmed, Chris and Alyssa stood in the aisle while people whisper at each other and Jake throws popcorn at Kristen and Annabeth just to make them shriek. Chris isn't really friends with Jake but he's always around and he's popular so he kind of has to put up with him.
'There's no room, sorry,' says Dylan and he does at least look like he means it.
There are no seats in the row behind or in front of them either but Alyssa closes her hand around Chris's forearm, her nails digging dull points into his skin, 'Chris, come on, there are seats over here.'
Chris goes with her, whoops and jeers following them and more than a handful of popcorn from Jake hitting his back and scattering to the floor. His face heats, glad for the darkness, even though it wasn't his choice to sit separately. Alyssa turns on the torch on her phone, not caring about the pointed tutting as they move closer to the screen.
'Turn that light off!' says an older guy on the end of a row even though it's only the trailers playing.
'I'm helping my friend,' Alyssa hisses back at him, moving the light to hit him right in the face.
She hasn't let go of Chris's arm, leading them to the free seats. Chris wonders if, without his crutches, she would have taken hold of his hand.
'That Jake guy is a douche,' she whispers once they've sat down, slipping her phone into the pocket of her jacket, leaning her elbow on the armrest. This close Chris can smell the mint of her gum and the sugar-cherry scent of her lipgloss.
'Yeah,' he agrees, leaning in, 'but I think Kristen likes him.'
Alyssa snorts and the force of it blows hot over Chris's cheek, 'she could do better.'
'Yeah, I mean, Dylan likes her so it's a big mess.'
Chris has been friends with Dylan and Kristen since they were seven years old, it's weird to think about them dating. They're like a brother and sister to him so they should be like a brother and sister to each other; maybe they are to Kristen but Dylan has had a crush on her since before Chris went to Texas. He probably shouldn't be gossiping about them but he's kind of getting sick of Dylan moping instead of doing something about it.
'Do you think—?' Alyssa starts but someone in the row behind shushes them so she sits back into her seat. She doesn't move her arm though.
It's nice, watching a movie side by side with Alyssa, she jumps at the explosions which makes Chris jump too but she catches his eye at the funny bits so they're laughing together as well. It's kind of like a date which is a thought that makes Chris go hot all over. He knows everyone will tease them later in the lobby, asking if they held hands, making stupid kissing sounds; Chris will have to shut it down and that feels wrong somehow even though nothing's happened. Maybe he wants it to happen.
He's dated before, had girlfriends, but not for a while and that feels like kids stuff compared to now. He's in highschool and Jake and some of the other boys are always boasting about what they've done with girls. It's obvious they're making at least half of it up but it represents a point of comparison Chris is not sure he knows how to live up to.
When the credits start to roll Chris makes to get up. They're in the last two seats on the end of the row, he'll be slow moving and he doesn't want to get in anyone's way but Alyssa puts her hand on his arm again.
'There's always a bit at the end,' she says, 'after the credits.'
A few people in the seats along from them are already gathering their things, 'we'll be in the way.'
She shrugs, grinning, 'so? Let them wait.'
His heart is beating kind of fast but Chris grins back, settling into his seat again and it feels like getting away with something.
*
It's a Saturday and Dad and Buck are off shift which usually means Chris gets woken up by the smell of pancakes. This morning it's to the sound of raised voices. The light in his room is pale and blue. His phone is charging on his nightstand and he lifts it closer to his face so he can see it without his glasses; it's only 6.45. Too early to be awake. Dad and Buck struggle to sleep in, so they're always up even if they aren't going to work, but they'll leave Chris to sleep, tiptoeing quietly around the house. Right now it sounds like they're not even trying to keep their voices down.
Chris slips out of bed and slowly across the room. His bedroom door opens directly opposite the dining room and he hopes they're too preoccupied with their argument to hear him as he cracks it open an inch.
They're in the kitchen and Chris can hear the sound of the silverware drawer being opened too forcefully, forks and knives rattling, the faucet coming on, then off again. He can feel his pulse fluttering in his throat, a low grade panic settling over him, fear at what he might be about to overhear.
'Buck, we talked about this. You have to—,' Dad's voice, low and insistent.
'I don't have to anything!' Buck all but shouts.
'If you're—,' Dad again.
'I'm done talking about this,' Buck sounds closer and Chris moves further behind his door, pushing it closed so it's only open the smallest amount, a narrow sliver of the dark dining room visible through the gap.
'Okay, okay, you don't have to talk to me,' says Dad and he sounds desperate, Chris doesn't know what they're talking about but it seems like an argument they've had before, 'but you have to talk to someone.'
There's a long beat of silence. Chris's heart is hammering in his chest. He shouldn't be eavesdropping, he knows that, but if Dad and Buck are arguing, if they're still arguing about something that's come up before, if they're about to break up—.
'Bobby would—,' says Dad so quietly Chris can barely hear it, cut off by Buck's sharp, 'don't.'
Then there are footsteps going past Chris's room and the sound of the front door opening and closing. It doesn't slam, whoever's stormed out, Buck most likely, must have remembered at the last minute that Chris should still be sleeping. Chris holds his breath, straining his ears in the endless silence that follows, his forehead pressed to the wood of his bedroom door, but there's nothing. His Dad doesn't come out of the kitchen and Buck doesn't come back to the house.
He wonders if he should come out of his room. They were shouting loudly enough they can't be surprised to have woken him up. They were obviously arguing about Bobby, about how they're dealing with it after six months without him. Chris is not a stranger to grief. He was sad when he heard about it, over breakfast, his Dad distracted, dark circles around red rimmed eyes as he broke the news, but Chris's grief was kind of abstracted. It wasn't like when they lost Mom. Bobby was a fixture, a friendly face, and he meant so much to Dad, and to Buck, but Chris wasn't sure where to put his own feelings. He'd been in Texas a while by that point and even before that he'd not seen that much of Bobby recently.
Still, when Dad rang to tell him that he needed to come back to LA, for Buck, he went straight into the living room to ask his Abuelos for a lift to the airport and didn't let them try to talk him out of it. That was less about him or Bobby and much more about Buck, about his Dad and the way they've been trying to be there for each other, honest and straightforward as Chris grows up. He gets that Dad has a right to privacy and Chris can't expect to be told everything but he lost Bobby too and things are changing, in every part of his life. It makes him feel small, to be listening at doors instead of part of the conversation.
Sleep pulls at him, exhaustion hitting as the adrenaline leaves his body, and the decision is made for him. He goes back to bed, lying down on top of the comforter, just to rest his eyes for a moment and then he's awake again, sudden sun shining in through the window. His phone says it's 10.30 now. If he doesn't get up soon his Dad will come knocking.
He shuffles through to the kitchen, bracing himself on the walls for support. He can smell coffee and—pancakes. Buck is at the stove, in an apron, Dad leaning against the counter with a mug, watching. Chris eyes them suspiciously but it doesn't look like either of them have been crying and there's no tension. They seem relaxed and at ease, enough that Chris wonders if he just dreamed the whole argument.
'Mornin', buddy,' says Dad.
'There he is!' Buck turns to grin at him, flipping a pancake without looking, 'chocolate chip or plain with syrup?'
Chris yawns obnoxiously, 'chocolate, obviously. Can I have some coffee?'
'Half a cup,' says Dad but he gets a mug from the drying rack and fills it from the pot, with just enough space for creamer.
Chris puts in three sugars because Buck is not looking and Dad usually has four so he can't complain. He takes his mug back through to the dining room, the table is already set and there's a vase of flowers in the center; huge yellow sunflowers and tiny purple flowers he doesn't know the name of.
He can hear Dad and Buck talking but they're being quiet enough that he can't make out the words, even without a closed door between them. Dad says something and Buck laughs. Chris isn't sure how to feel about it; Dad used to laugh with Mom, with Ana, with Marisol. Until he didn't.
It comes in waves, he knows, like it does when he thinks about Mom. Sometimes it's easy, comforting to remember her, other times it hurts like a deep breath in cold weather and it sneaks up on you too, the pain of it hitting out of nowhere. It's not been that long since Bobby died and Dad and Buck won't be okay for a long time yet. Maybe not ever, not really.
Buck comes through from the kitchen with two plates piled high with pancakes. He sets the chocolate chip ones in front of Chris, settling into the chair beside him. Dad sits across from them, helping himself to a couple of the plain pancakes, drenching them in syrup.
'How you don't have any cavities I'll never understand,' says Buck, reaching for the little bowl of cut up strawberries next to Chris's elbow.
Dad grins, big and goofy, 'I worked hard for these pearly whites. Look after your teeth, Chris, and you'll have a beautiful Diaz smile all your life.'
'There is actually a pretty big genetic component to how susceptible teeth are to damage,' Buck says.
Dad is listening intently to Buck's lecture on dental hygiene but Chris just lets the sound of their voices wash over him, working steadily on his breakfast. They've obviously made up from their argument but Chris still feels on edge; he wasn't part of the fight so he doesn't get the resolution either and it makes it much harder to enjoy the pancakes or summon up the enthusiasm for the day's plans.
Having Buck around has been great. When Chris was younger Buck was always falling asleep on the couch, after a late night or too many beers, and Chris was delighted to find he was still there in the morning. Dad is happier when Buck is around too. It's been uncertain, though, the length of time Buck is staying still unspecified. It was supposed to be temporary, until he finds a new place, and as far as Chris knows he hasn't been looking but he's is still bracing himself for it, the moment, for one reason or another, Buck walks out and doesn't come back.
*
Mr Rao pairs Chris with Alyssa for their book report on Of Mice and Men. It makes Chris's stomach flip when he announces their names even though he's just working in from both ends of the alphabet and Alyssa's last name is Wilkins, so—Diaz, Wilkins.
Alyssa turns to look at Chris, grinning, but Jake makes a stupid ooh-ing noise, wolf-whistling, half the class laughing with him and embarrassment creeps, prickly, up Chris's spine, his ears and the back of his neck hot. Alyssa doesn't seem bothered, rolling her eyes and leaning forward in her seat to flick Jake on the ear.
'Miss Wilkins,' says Mr Rao sharply even though it was Jake that started it, Jake that distracted everyone else.
Alyssa sits back in her chair with a scowl, tipping it on two legs, crossing her arms over her chest until Mr Rao raises his eyebrows at her, and she drops back to the ground with a thunk. Chris tries very hard not to look at her for the rest of the class.
When the bell goes she appears in front of him like she teleported across the room, 'give me your phone.'
Chris hands it over but she rolls her eyes, 'unlocked, duh, so I can put in my number.'
'Oh, right,' he feels stupid. He feels stupid that he doesn't have her number already given they've been hanging out for a few months but then that's always been with other people around.
He unlocks his phone with face ID and hands it back to her, her fingers flying over the screen. Her nails have a design of butterflies today with a little gemstone on the ring finger of each hand. He's pretty sure it's against dress code. Her phone buzzes as she hands his back and he can see she's sent herself a message so she has his number too.
She taps back with a heart, 'there. I'll message you, yeah? So we can do the report thingy.'
'Okay.'
'Cool. I have to go,' she wrinkles her nose, 'geography. See you,' and she's gone.
Chris gets extra time to get between classes but even with that he's going to be late.
*
'Right, so the introduction is done. I think we should focus on the theme of loneliness and isolation. Then how that relates to the friendship between George and Lennie, like, fraternity and stuff. Do you want to write that?'
'Just because I'm a boy? Sure,' says Chris.
Alyssa laughs, 'exactly.'
'You're doing the bit on the American Dream?'
'Hmm, if there's space. We might end up over the word count. I wanted to write about how the characters relate to animals more.'
They're sat at the dining room table, Chris has his copy of Of Mice and Men open on his lap while Alyssa types on her laptop, adding notes to their outline. Buck is in the garden, he came in earlier to make them lunch, the crusts of their sandwiches discarded on plates in front of them, half drunk glasses of lemonade still beading with condensation, dripping onto the table.
They've been talking idly, randomly, between working on sections of the report. It's fun, hanging out with Alyssa, just the two of them. They've been messaging; conversations about homework drifting into conversations about so many things, friends, TV, family. In person it's different, better. There's a bubble of anxiety caught behind Chris's ribs but he kind of wants to lean into it, find out where it might lead if he doesn't let that fear stultify him.
'…did you start the second season of Squid Game yet?' says Alyssa.
'No,' Chris rolls his eyes, 'Dad and Buck started without me. I think on purpose 'cause they think it's too grown up.'
Alyssa scoffs and shakes her head, 'but you watched the first season, so what difference does it make now?'
'I know! Like I didn't have to teach Dad how to add netflix to the new TV. I'll just watch it when they aren't here. Although, Kristen said the second season wasn't as good as the first so—.'
'Right.'
Alyssa closes her laptop with a sudden finality and the feeling in Chris's chest goes sharp and cold, sinking into his belly as the atmosphere sours.
'We can finish this at the library tomorrow,' she says, her voice flat, turned away from him as she gathers her things.
'Uhh, sure,' Chris is confused, 'are you okay?'
'Yeah, I need to get going. Can you ask one of your dads to give me a lift?'
'I'll—go ask Buck.'
Chris heads through the kitchen to the back door and out into the garden. He feels shaky, his anxiety shifted from something warm and thrilling to a sickly kind of agitation. How can everything have changed so quickly? They were talking and laughing and now suddenly Alyssa is pissed at him, inexplicably annoyed for no apparent reason.
Buck is by the flower beds, doing something that might be weeding.
'Buck?'
'Yeah, buddy?' Buck wipes his face with his forearm, squinting against the sun as he looks back at the house.
'Can you give Alyssa a lift home?'
Buck gets up then, coming closer, 'everything okay?'
Chris shrugs and feels embarrassingly like he might be about to burst into tears, 'she wants to go home.'
'Do I have time to shower first?'
He spreads his muddy hands in front of him, there's a smear of dirt over his cheek and his LA Pride t-shirt is pretty sweaty. Chris wouldn't want to be stuck in the car with him like that.
'I'm ready to go,' Alyssa appears in the doorway with her backpack slung over her shoulder.
'Right. Sure. I hope you don't mind if I'm a bit ripe,' says Buck with a grimace.
Her eyes flick over him judgmentally but she shrugs and heads back into the house.
Buck does at least go wash his hands and change his shirt. He's gone maybe ten minutes and it's the most excruciating ten minutes of Chris's life and he's spent so much time in hospital waiting rooms and doctors offices, before surgery or worried for the people he loves.
Alyssa perches on the back of the couch and doesn't speak, looking at her phone and Chris can feel the pressure building, he has to say something, unsure of how to begin, how to fix whatever he did wrong in the first place and then Buck is there with his car keys and the moment is lost.
'See you at school?'
It comes out like a question and she doesn't even look at him, following Buck out the front door.
'Yeah, bye.'
*
Alyssa doesn't live that long of a drive away. It's only about forty minutes later that Chris hears the sound of Buck's truck pulling back into the driveway, rousing him from his doze. He wasn't really sleeping, just lying fully clothed on top of the bed, trying not to think about anything at all.
'Hey, Chris?'
There's a gentle knock on the door and he knows he can't ignore it. Obviously something happened and obviously Buck would be worried about it. Who knows what Alyssa said on the drive, probably nothing. She probably sat there in silence while Buck filled the air with nonsense.
Except that's mean. Chris likes talking with Buck. He's safe with Buck, who has been there for him as long as he can properly remember, and he could probably help Chris with this but it feels weird, admitting to having wanted something he's just lost, and he feels weird about Buck in general right now, even though it's not Buck's fault.
'What?' he says, to say something, then rolls over so he's facing the wall.
The door creaks open.
'Are you okay?'
'Fine.'
'Did something happen? W-with Alyssa.'
'No,' Chris says, knee jerk and petulant.
'Chris.'
He rolls onto his back again and stares at the ceiling.
'I don't know.'
'Do you want to talk about it?'
Chris doesn't speak. He knows Buck is still standing there, waiting him out in his peripheral vision, but he's not going to break. Although, it feels like he might, shattering into a hundred little shards, catching the light, glittering on the sidewalk. It's as if he's been holding a million things inside himself, gripped so tight, but this thing with Alyssa was one of the good ones, only now he's opened his hand to look inside and found a palmful of blood, hand sliced open, pain lancing through him.
Telling Buck about this means acknowledging something he doesn't want to share, taken from him before he even had a chance to enjoy the possibility of it. Dad and Buck aren't the only ones who can have secrets. If they're going to keep things from him he can keep things from them too.
'Not yet,' he says to the ceiling and after a long moment he hears Buck step back, the door closing and Chris is alone.
*
On the drive over to Denny's house Dad and Buck are in a good mood which makes Chris's bad mood worse. Buck is driving, as always, but he keeps taking his eyes off the road to look over at Dad. They're both laughing about something that happened at work. They've already told Chris the entire story and they told Tía Pepa when she came round for dinner, her and Buck in the kitchen together, with Dad and Chris banished to the living room. They were both there when it happened, Chris doesn't see why they need to go over it all again.
'I just don't think you'd thought it through,' Dad says.
'What are you talking about,' laughs Buck, 'I carefully evaluated the scene and used my extensive knowledge of firefighting techniques to effect a rescue.'
'By smashing through a window?'
'Did it or did it not provide a point of egress for the victims?'
'It was next to an open window, Buck,' says Dad and the way he's looking over at Buck is so fond it makes Chris feel even worse.
'Yeah, well. Maybe I slightly misjudged the maneuver,' Buck says, sheepishly.
'Cut yourself up pretty bad in the process, eh, bud?'
Buck has been sporting a cut over his eyebrow all week and he raises it in the rear view mirror to make eye contact with Chris.
'I'm hoping I'll get a cool scar. What do you think, Chris?'
Chris shrugs, 'I guess.'
This is the first big party since Bobby died. Denny's moms are hosting instead of Athena and that feels weird. Apparently her new place would be way too small, according to Buck. Chris hasn't seen it, he hasn't seen Athena at all since right after he got back to LA, and he didn't really know what to say to her then. It was much easier to offer comfort to his Dad and to Buck, just by being there; although, sometimes even that feels inadequate. They're acting normal, now, though, like this isn't a big deal, to do this without Bobby.
'At least it'll even you out,' says Dad, thumbing at his own eyebrow when Buck looks over, the same spot as Buck's birthmark.
Chris looks away, letting his eyes lose focus, his mind blank, familiar streets rushing past them, and then they're pulling up to the house, an empty spot on the street saved for them so Chris doesn't have to walk too far. Dad helps him out of the back seat while Buck goes to get the cookies and cupcakes he made from the trunk.
Chris's halfway to the front door when he turns to look at them; Buck has a tower of tupperware boxes balanced in one arm and with the other he's holding Dad's hand tight, both of them leaning together against the truck. Chris turns away, his face hot, his eyes prickling but when he glances back they've split the tupperware between them, walking up the path to join him, a careful foot apart.
*
It's a good party, good enough to cheer Chris up a little. Hen and Karen always make really amazing food and Chim and Maddie bough Jee-Yun and Robby with them so Chris gets to hold the baby for a bit. He does have to tolerate at least twenty minutes of the adults asking him how he likes high school, even though he started ages ago and it's old news now, and then Denny and Mara come to find him.
'Chris, you wanna come hang out in my room?'
'Ah-ah,' says Karen, 'what did we say?'
'No video games until after 3pm,' says Denny, hanging his head.
'Exactly, one more hour,' his mom says, 'now go see if anyone needs another drink.'
Denny rushes off, Mara with him. Chris is excused from helping out but that means he's on his own again with the adults. Harry would have joined them for video games, once, but he's eighteen now, in a corner talking with May and Buck, all of them drinking a beer, although Harry is trying to do it pretty surreptitiously so his mom doesn't see. They look serious and it occurs to Chris that they all lost Bobby in a similar way—May and Harry were his step-kids but Buck was kind of like his kid too. Sort of like how Chris is Buck's…something.
You would think Chris would spend more time thinking about it, given that he lost his Mom when he was seven years old, and he does worry about his Dad's mortality, and Buck's, the fear of it waxing and waning, stronger some days than others, but he isn't usually preoccupied with it beyond that. Denny and Mara must worry about their mom, Jee-Yun and Robby are too small right now but they'll start to worry about their dad soon, and it's not as if Maddie hasn't been put in danger a bunch of times too. May and Harry will worry about Athena and they've already lost Bobby.
Chris should have made more of an effort with Bobby, he'd just assumed he would always be there and they would have time to get to know each other better. Even with things like this, BBQs and parties, Chris missed so many when he was in Texas and even before that he'd stopped coming every time, preferring to hang out with his friends over his Dad's on the weekends.
Bobby looked after him a couple times, when he was a kid, when Dad needed a hand and no one else was available. It was fun hanging out with him. He would tell Chris stories about firefighting, when Chris still thought it was the coolest thing in the world, or they'd cook and he'd let Chris help properly, never assumed he couldn't do something. Dad got everything with Carla sorted eventually and then Chris got too old to need to be watched all the time and Bobby had always been a last resort anyway. It hardly seems a good enough way to remember someone.
Dad doesn't talk about Mom very often. Chris's grandparents are polite when anyone mentions her but they said enough disparaging things about his Dad when they thought Chris was out of earshot in Texas so it's not difficult to work out their real feelings about his Mom. It's down to Chris to remember her, then, and his memories of his her from LA are sharp but everything before that is a blur and the older he gets less and less of his life will have had her in it.
He looks around the room, people laughing, chatting. Even Athena has a small smile on her face, on the couch with Maddie and the baby. If he's not careful it'll happen again and someone else will be gone without Chris having gotten to know them. Dad or Buck will be gone and Chris still won't understand how they fit together anymore.
Everything narrows suddenly, darkness at the edge of his vision and his breath short in his chest like there's an iron band around him and all at once he can't breathe.
He can't breathe.
'Chris?' Dad's voice and Dad's hands, familiar and reassuring on his shoulders but Chris can't see him and he can't speak, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Only fish can't drown and that's what this feels like.
He's done that before. Drowning.
'You're okay, mijo, it's a panic attack, you're okay,' Dad says but he sounds far away.
'Take him to our room, Eddie, last on the left,' Hen, speaking like she's down a well, muffled and distorted.
Dad picks him up, full body off the ground, which he hasn’t done in a long time, moving quickly, and it feels both better and worse. Better because his Dad's arms are safe and strong, worse because he's ungrounded, out of control, his limbs, his lungs.
He's set down on a bed, sitting upright not lying down, Dad's palm on his chest, over his heart.
'Count your breathing with me, Chris. In for four seconds—hold—out for four seconds—hold—in—out—in—out—in—out.'
Chris keeps his eyes shut but he counts with his Dad until the ringing in his ears stops and his skin feels less tight and he can breathe again without that claustrophobic, sinking feeling weighing him down. He feels dizzy and stupid, panic shifting to embarrassment.
'Better?' says Dad, cradling the back of Chris's head, his eyes fixed and focused, searching Chris's face.
'Where's Buck?'
'He's outside, do you want me to go get him?'
Chris shakes his head and buries his face in his Dad's shoulder, knocking his glasses askew. He does want to see Buck, get eyes on him, but he needs a second, just with his Dad.
They stay still for a long time, Dad on the floor, one knee bent, an anchoring hand on Chris's neck. Chris just lets himself float, it's not scary anymore, he knows where he is, sitting on Hen and Karen's bed, and he eventually surfaces. He has a headache, his hands and feet tingling like pins and needles, but everything else feels fine.
'You can get Buck now,' he says and his voice comes out small.
Dad kisses his forehead and stands up, sticking his head out the door and then Buck is coming into the room, filling the space, and that's a relief too.
'You okay, kid?'
'I'm okay, sorry.'
'Nothing to apologize for,' Buck ruffles his hair and Dad sits beside him on the bed.
'Do you want to stay in here for a bit? We can stay with you,' asks Dad.
The last thing Chris wants is to walk out in front of everyone, shamefaced after causing a scene, but he doesn't want to stay in here either, knowing people will be exchanging glances, talking in hushed whispers in the other room, all because of him.
'Can we just go home?'
'Sure,' Dad says, but he doesn't move, his arm around Chris's shoulders.
Chris can't see his face but he can see Buck's, the set of his mouth, the widening of his eyes, the way they communicate with each other without words.
'I'll go tell Hen and Karen,' says Buck, 'and then we can leave, no goodbyes.'
They'll have to talk about this. Dad won't let it go but for now Chris just leans his head against Dad's shoulder, letting him take his weight.
*
Chris drifts on the ride home, not quite asleep, but the strange cocoon-like feeling of the back seat of Buck's truck doesn't make him panic again. He halfway thinks they'll carry him to bed like after a long drive when he was small but Dad just shakes his shoulder gently, 'time to go, bud.'
They leave him be to go to his room, put his pajamas on and get into bed, even though it's the middle of the afternoon, but he can sense them tiptoeing around the house, the cottonwool quiet of it, like he's deathly ill or a bomb about to explode.
Buck brings him a sandwich with the chips already squashed inside and a glass of orange juice like he always wants when he's sick. Dad brings him a concerned look that makes Chris feel handled and suddenly he doesn't want the sandwich so much anymore.
'I'm alright now,' he says, fast, before Dad can speak.
Dad sighs and sits at the foot of the bed. His hair is mussed from running his hands through it and he looks tired, brows furrowed. Chris hates that he put that look on his face.
'Chris, you don't have to tell me now but you can always talk to me, you know that, right? I know how it sometimes feels like you've gotta keep everything bottled up inside but it's better to talk about it, I promise.'
'I know that, Dad. I'm fine. I was just—,' he finds a half truth, one that Dad will understand but not freak out about, 'I was thinking about Bobby and then I was thinking about Mom.'
'Oh, Chris,' Dad pulls him in for a hug and Chris lets him.
He doesn't know if Buck told Dad about the weirdness with Alyssa but he hasn't brought it up. Maybe Buck took him at his word and is just waiting for him to be ready to talk about it but Dad worries about him enough, he doesn't want to make it worse. He's definitely not going to tell him he was freaking out about him and Buck and all of the 118 dying like Bobby.
Dad sits back, 'has this happened before? Recently?'
Chris shakes his head, 'no. No, it was just this one time.'
It was just a weird vibe, thinking about stuff he shouldn't have been around a crowd and because he felt off already.
'Okay. But if it happens again—.'
'I'll tell you, promise.'
'Good,' Dad sits back, hands on Chris's shoulders, looking him over like he's appraising him, checking for damage, 'Buck is taking requests for dinner so if there's anything you want?'
'Lasagna? With garlic bread?'
Dad smiles, 'I'll tell him.'
He stands up, about to head towards the door, but he stops, kissing Chris on the forehead again, 'love you, kid.'
'Love you too, Dad.'
That at least is the truth.
*
They go to Griffith Observatory, for one of their public star parties, and it's obviously a ploy to cheer Chris up but the thing is he does really love getting to use the telescopes so it sort of works. Buck's packed a picnic and memorized a load of new astronomy facts. Dad has set up camping chairs so they don't have to sit on the ground and they're posted up next to the LA Astronomical Society so Chris can have first go on their telescope without having to stand in the queue.
Chris looks around at the other people in the crowd while they wait, stretched out on blankets, looking up at the sky, families, couples, groups of friends. He wonders what they think when they look at the three of them, him and Dad and Buck; do they see a family? It's not the first time he's had that thought. People have been mistaking them for a family for years, when he was a kid, at the zoo or the park with Dad and Buck. One time, when he was nine, Ms Bauer from the principal's office came to class to tell him his Dad had arrived to take him to a doctors appointment and when he got to reception Buck was waiting for him.
Chris looks more like his Mom than his Dad and strangers often default to assuming Buck is his father. When he was a kid Chris would correct them, Buck's my best friend!, but it got easier to go along with it rather than try to explain half the time. Recently the thought has made him uneasy, the lie inherent in that assumption, erasing his Mom, discounting his actual Dad. But Buck does mean so much to him and he's never really thought to question that or categorize it. Now he feels like he's being forced to when things are so uncertain and just as he gets used to it, everything will change again.
He turns back around, facing away from the crowd; Buck is unpacking the food, arranging everything into little piles on their blanket and Dad has the notebook they use to record their observations open on his lap. They've not made it to one of these events in a while, another thing Chris missed in Texas, but Dad and Buck have fallen back into it enthusiastically.
'What do you think, Chris,' says Dad, drawing him out of his thoughts, flicking back to their last entry, 'last time we saw Mars and Venus.'
Next month coincides with a blood moon,' says Buck, 'we missed this year's Buck Moon, though, that's in July.'
'Buck Moon?' says Dad, skeptically, squinting his eyes at Buck, 'you've made that up.'
'I haven't! It's because it happens at the time of year when male deer grow their antlers!' Buck puts both hands up by his head, fingers wiggling.
Dad crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, but he's smiling, 'so, when do we get an Eddie Moon or a Chris Moon then?'
'Well, the names come from the Farmer's Almanac. There's the Wolf Moon, Hunter Moon, Strawberry Moon, Worm Moon—,' Buck counts on his fingers.
'Worm Moon? You're definitely making this up,' laughs Dad, 'I'm calling it, tonight's moon is an Eddie Moon.'
Buck is frowning but there's a glint in his eye as he glances at Chris, 'sounds like you're going to show us your ass,' he says in an undertone and Chris giggles.
'Tell us about the Blood Moon, Buck,' he says, even though he already knows, and Buck smiles so broadly at him.
'It's a total lunar eclipse, during the full moon phase where the sun, earth and moon are all aligned. The earth's atmosphere scatters the blue light from the sun so only red wavelengths can get past.'
'Are we on shift?' says Dad, watching as Buck gestures with his hands.
'I thought you didn't believe in that sh—stuff?' Buck teases, 'a full moon and a blood moon are bound to cause problems.'
'I don't believe it. You and Chim and your superstitious paranoia are just a nightmare to work with. And if we're off shift we can come do this again, right Chris?'
Chris nods, serious, 'yeah. Sounds like the sort of thing werewolves and vampires would be into so we'd need to be on guard.'
'Could you get a werewolf vampire? Or a vampire werewolf? How would that even work?' says Buck.
'Hmm,' Chris considers, 'if you were already a vampire and got bitten by a werewolf, maybe.'
'So you're a vampire all the time and once a month you also turn into a wolf? Does the wolf still need to drink blood?'
'I think if you drank enough the day before the full moon you'd be okay. I feel like if a vampire drank blood from a werewolf it would mess up the vampire, though,' Chris says.
'Even if they were in human form at the time?' says Dad, leaning forward in his chair.
'I don't think it'd make a difference. If you're a werewolf you're a werewolf,' reasons Buck.
'So would a bite from a werewolf vampire turn you into both, if they got you when it wasn't the full moon?'
It's so silly, the three of them talking nonsense, working out the crossover of vampire to werewolf rules but Chris is laughing, happier than he's felt in a while, happier than he felt ten minutes ago, his mood shifting so quickly. He wishes it were this easy all the time, that he could just enjoy himself without the background noise, like when he was small. Maybe it's a choice, not to care what other people think, not to worry about the definitions and just be secure in the love he has for Dad, Buck, his family and friends.
'Right then young Mr Diaz,' says Mark from the LA Astronomical Society, interrupting their increasingly absurd conversation, 'are you ready to have a look? We should be getting a decent view of Jupiter today.'
'Yeah,' Chris gets up out of his chair and heads over, leaving Dad and Buck to the finer points of vampire to werewolf transformation.
'Not seen you in a while,' says Mark, 'you getting too cool for astronomy?'
'No,' Chris pushes his glasses on to the top of his head so he can put his eye to the viewfinder, the bright dot of Jupiter and it's moons centered in the lens, 'I was in Texas most of last year.'
'Oh, they don't have stars out there?' Mark teases.
The stars are actually pretty good near his Abuelos place, less light pollution, but his grandma didn't like the idea of him being out so late at night when he asked about astronomy clubs.
'Yeah, but it's better to be back home.'
'True enough, son,' Mark says gently, 'can you see Jupiter?'
Chris nods, his face still up against the telescope, 'and four of the moons.'
'Which are?'
'Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto.'
'Great job,' Mark claps him on the shoulder, beckoning the next few people in line to come up to the telescope, and gives Chris a wink, 'if you pop over at the end I'll let you have another look.'
'Thanks,' says Chris, 'if we're still here. But we'll be back next month for the Blood Moon, I think.'
'Well, it's good to see you and your dads again, Chris.'
Chris looks over to where Dad and Buck are talking, laughing, heads bent together. Dad catches his eye and waves, Buck give him two thumbs up, Chris waves back and doesn't bother to correct Mark.
*
Dad is cooking tonight, which Chris is way less apprehensive about than he might have been in the past. He's actually gotten really good and Buck's not even trying to help, sitting with Chris on the couch, drinking a beer, watching a baking show.
There's the sound of Dad humming along to his phone in the kitchen and someone's meringue fails to turn into stiff peaks on the screen.
'Can I ask you something,' says Chris without turning away from the TV, 'about dating.'
Buck goes very still next to him and then relaxes back into the couch cushions, 'of course. Though I don’t have the best track record, buddy.'
'I’m not asking Dad, his is worse,' says Chris, glancing Buck's way at last.
Buck smiles like he's trying not to laugh, 'I don't know about that.'
'Fine. But you have more data points,' Chris reasons. He doesn't think about the fact that one of those data points might be his Dad.
'Can't argue with that,' says Buck, turning towards him, 'hit me.'
'So, there's this girl…' Chris starts and Buck beams at him.
'Buck! I won't ask you if you're going to be all—goopy.'
'Sorry—sorry!' Buck schools his face into a neutral expression but his eyes are still gleaming. Chris supposes if he wants an answer it will have to do.
'Whatever,' he takes a deep breath, 'so, there's this girl I like and I thought she liked me back but now it seems like I pissed her off. I don't even know what I did! Why do girls even do that? Just get mad for no reason and not even say why?'
'Well, firstly, it's not just girls. Secondly, this is Alyssa, right?'
Chris nods.
'Have you asked her?'
'I can't ask her, she's not speaking to me,' Chris says, tipping his head back against the couch in frustration.
'You can text her can't you?'
Chris nods again. As if that's easy.
'Okay, so text her and ask her if something you did upset her and tell her you'd like to fix it if you can.'
'That's it?'
'That's it. If you don't know what it is, you can't work to make it better and if she won't communicate it to you, that's on her.'
It sounds stupidly simple. Like, maybe Buck doesn't actually understand the gravity of the situation; if Chris messages her and fixes it they'll go back to being friends or maybe they'll become something else, something new. Chris thinks he wants that but the stakes literally couldn't be higher.
He feels the edges of it all the time, all these milestones you're supposed to hit as a teenager; learn to drive, first drink, first kiss, first everything else. He's not sure how many of those things are attainable for him and he worries about how easy it will be for his friends to outpace him. What if Alyssa isn't willing to wait for him to catch up or go at his own speed and it's worse because he was away in Texas for so long, missed so many things happening in his friends lives while he felt like he was stuck in a holding pattern, waiting.
What he says is, 'I guess.'
Buck looks at him for a long moment and then says earnestly, 'is this the point where we need to talk about safe sex?'
God. Maybe he should have just asked Dad. He already gave Chris The Talk a few years back and they’ve covered all the practicalities in health class. Chris is fifteen and it’s 2025, like, the internet exists. He does not need to hear the details from Buck, who would probably make a powerpoint presentation if given the chance.
He can feel his cheeks going red but he shakes his head firmly, ‘no, thank you.’
Buck laughs lightly, 'fair enough.'
'Can I have a sip of your beer?'
'You won't like it,' says Buck but he does pass over the bottle.
'I want to try.'
Buck's right, he doesn't like it; it's fizzy but not like soda and it has a weird savory-sour taste.
'Yuck,' says Chris as he hands it back.
'Told you.'
'Yeah. Thanks, Buck.'
'Anytime, bud.'
*
Dad and Buck are arguing again. Chris stops short in the doorway, Carla bumping into him—she picked him up from school today even though she doesn’t really help them out so much anymore. Chris is too old to need babysitting but he misses her a lot; he’s starting to miss so many people, even ones that are right in front of him.
'We decided,' says Dad and it doesn’t sound like they’re talking about what to have for dinner or the movie they might watch after.
'I know that.'
'You said you were okay with it,' Dad continues and he sounds pissed but there's a pleading edge to it.
'I am—,' Buck sighs, frustrated, and Carla puts her hand on Chris's shoulder, to pull him back to the car maybe, to circle the block, stop for ice cream at the McDonald's drive-thru and come back to pretend this never happened. Chris shrugs her off.
'Oh, so it’s just the timeline that’s not working out for you? It’s only been a few months,' says Dad and his voice has gone cold.
'I know that,' Buck says again.
A few months since what—Bobby died? Since Chris and Dad moved back from El Paso?
'I just didn't think it would be so hard!'
'You don't think it's hard for me? Buck. I have to think about Chris—.'
'You have—!'
Carla shuts the front door forcefully, cutting them off, coming past Chris into the living room, saying, 'Eddie, Buck, you here?' loudly and airily.
They all meet awkwardly in the dining room, Buck ducking through the door from the kitchen, a hand on the back of his neck. Dad is behind him, his face blotchy and red. They were arguing about him or something that relates to him and instead of speaking to him, they're treating him like he's a little kid, like he can't handle knowing anything.
'Carla,' says Dad, 'you guys are early.'
She fixes him with an unimpressed look, her arms folded over her chest, 'no, right on time.'
'Chris, why don't you go put your things away,' says Dad.
'No.'
Chris doesn't talk back, not really, but they were talking about him and he's tired of it, raised voices and the weird hush of a room as he comes in to it. He knows what's going on and he might not like it but they can't keep it from him forever.
'Chris—.'
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose, fingers pressing against his eyelids. He does that when he's stressed and pushing will only make things worse but Chris does it anyway, 'you were arguing. About me.'
'It wasn't about you, Chris,' says Buck, placating, looking to Dad.
'You said my name!'
'Chris,' says Carla, stepping forward smoothly, 'why don't you put your bag in your room, give Dad and Buck a chance to cool off. Then we can all talk.'
He takes in all their faces. Dad looks pissed, Buck looks worried. Carla is looking at him with a soft kind of sadness and there's no point in arguing, all the adults united against him.
'Fine.'
Chris goes to his room but only as far as the door, pressed against it again, listening. He can hear them speaking, their voices rising and falling, but not what they're saying. They'll be talking about him again only now it's his fault, for making a fuss and demanding answers they don't want to give him.
*
Dad is the one who knocks on his door this time and Chris thinks this is it, this is the moment, bracing himself for it like bad news. He hates that it's how it makes him feel, he loves his Dad, of course, and he loves Buck but them together. It's not been that long since Buck was with Tommy, another person Chris liked but doesn't see anymore, or Dad was dating Marisol, and she disappeared from their lives even more abruptly.
They talked a bit about it in El Paso and dad apologized, tried to explain about Kim. Chris didn't really want to hear it but it did help, to understand what was going on. It shocked Chris to see that woman, looking so like his Mom, he can't imagine how Dad felt. But now it seems like he's moved on so quickly, and right after Bobby died, falling into something with Buck who is too important to both of them to lose.
'Can I come in?'
'Yeah,' Chris shrugs, pulling his headphones off to rest around his neck but he only half turns from his desk.
Dad sits on the end of the bed, he looks less harassed now and his face is back to a normal color. He's left the door open and Chris can hear Buck and Carla moving around in the kitchen but they aren't talking, so maybe they're listening in on this too.
'Chris, what you heard—,' Dad pauses, 'I'm sorry it seemed like we were talking about you.'
'You were,' Chris says as rudely as he can manage.
Dad uses his foot to spin Chris's chair to face him and ducks his head to find Chris's eyes, 'mijo, I talk about you all the time. You're my son.'
'You were shouting,' it comes out like he's a little kid, tearful at the edges, and he turns his head away so he doesn't have to see what it does to Dad's face.
There's a long beat of silence and Dad's voice is rough when he speaks too.
'It's been a hard year, me and Buck, we both want to make sure you're okay. That we're all okay. Sometimes we just don't agree on the best way to do that.'
It sounds like bullshit, a cop out. Chris wasn't honest about his panic attack, Dad's not being honest about this and they're going in circles because Chris isn't about to come right out and ask, if Dad refuses to tell him, and he's too tired to keep fighting about it now.
'That's it?'
'That's it.'
*
Chris and Alyssa never made it to the library to finish their report. She sent him her sections via their school email addresses and he added in his parts to submit to Mr Rao. They got an A.
It's been easy enough to avoid her, they only have the one class together and she has a group of girls from the netball team she hangs out with if she isn't with Chris and his friends. Maybe she was never with Chris in the first place, maybe they were both just around, peripheral to each other, with friends of friends between them. He hasn't taken Buck's advice, even if he does manage to find out the problem it came so out of nowhere he doesn't know if he'll be able to fix it or if it even has anything to do with him at all.
Dylan invites Chris to hang out at the mall and doesn't tell him until they get there that Alyssa will be there too. So are Kristen and Jake and a couple others. Chris sighs when he sees them, sitting on the edge of the fountain, laughing like they're all in a teen movie, a bubble around them that Chris can't break through.
'I needed back up, man,' says Dylan in an undertone as they walk over, 'Jake told me last week she came over to go in his pool. My parents don't even have a pool.'
'You have to just ask her out,' says Chris because he's sick of this.
He's sick of Dylan and Kristen and Jake. He's sick of Dad and Buck. He's sick of Alyssa. No one is saying what they mean and everyone is miserable.
He's sick of himself a little bit too; pissed off at Dylan for pining after Kristen and doing nothing about it while he sits there staring at his chat with Alyssa, not messaging her night after night. It's all so stupid, things were supposed to be better, coming back to LA, and they are in so many ways, back with his friends, living with Dad and Buck, being close to Tía Pepa again, but Chris feels pulled in too many directions, with no control over any of it, and it's exhausting.
Kristen wants ice cream so they all head off to the Haagen Dazs. Somehow Alyssa ends up falling into step beside him. Her nails are painted like oranges and lemons today and she's changed her hair, her braids are shorter and they have beads threaded on the ends.
'I started watching this thing on netflix, Dungeon Meshi. Have you seen it?' she says and it's like whiplash, her talking to him like nothing happened, as if it hasn't been weeks of silence after she all but stormed out of his house.
'Uhh—. Yeah, Buck loves it,' says Chris, which is true, they've been watching it together and Buck promised to look up ways to try to recreate some of the food because Chris found a bunch of videos of people doing that on tiktok.
'It's cool. I'm going to read the manga next,' she says, 'I finished Witch Hat Atelier, they're making an anime of that too.'
'Oh, cool,' it would be easy to brush her off, not let her get away with pretending or worse, actually demand an explanation, here in front of all their friends but she's looking at him with uncharacteristic shyness and he can see it for the olive branch it is, 'can I still borrow the books off you? You have the box set, right?'
They've reached the store, all of them queuing and arguing about ice cream flavors.
'Yeah, I can lend them to you,' she smiles and Chris reads the relief in it before Kristen calls her name and she's dashing off to the head of the line.
They end up sat next to each other, once everyone has ordered, Chris watching Alyssa lick ice cream from her wrist as it melts, and the fearful anxiety in his chest starts to give way to something hopeful again.
*
CD: hey
AW: hey
CD: r u busy saturday
AW: maybe
AW: why
CD: we cld hang out?
AW: ok
*
Dylan's mom drops him home. It's a bit later than he agreed with Dad, especially for a school night, but only by an hour and Chris did message to let him know. Dad sent a thumbs up in response but the house is dark when they pull up and no one remembered to leave the porch light on for him.
'Alright?' says Mrs Reid.
'Yeah, I have my key,' says Chris.
'Okay. Nice to see you, Chris. You take care now.'
'Thanks for the ride, Mrs Reid.'
Both their cars are in the driveway and he's pretty sure Dad and Buck aren't at work today but they could have been pulled on to a shift last minute. One of them usually lets him know that, though, and the silence when he unlocks the door is creepy, the whole house at a standstill. It's not that late, just before eleven, and he'd expect someone to wait up for him.
Through the front door, he can see the light in the kitchen is on, the glow of it spilling out, painting the edges of the living room and hallway golden. He would call out, announce his return home, but something stops him, walking through the house as quietly as he can.
Dad and Buck are by the sink, forehead to forehead, Buck's hands are on Dad's waist, one of Dad's hands is resting on Buck's chest, the other cupping his jaw. Buck has his eyes closed so it's Dad that sees Chris first, stepping away from Buck so fast that Buck sways on the spot, jerking forward, eyes flying open in confusion.
'What—?'
'Chris.'
Dad's slices a hand firmly through the air in his direction, the other running through his hair, and Buck turns to look, wide-eyed, face bright red. There's a sickening stretch of silence where no one moves, no one speaks. Chris can't storm out, he can't move that fast, and then Dad is coming towards him, dropping to his knees so they're closer in height. The sudden movement unlocks something in Chris's head, he's felt out of control for weeks, everything decided for him, but there's no pretending now and he can finally say how he feels.
'I knew you were dating! Why didn't you tell me!' he shouts, shaking, his crutches barely supporting him. If Dad wasn't so close he'd be afraid he'd fall.
'Chris, we aren't—,' Dad's hands spasm, jerking forward like he wants to take hold of him but doesn't know if he can.
Chris looks at the ceiling, turning his face away so he doesn't have to make eye contact.
'I'm not stupid. You treat me like a kid but I'm fifteen! You live together, you share a bed!' he hisses the last word, his face heating, embarrassment turning to anger turning to embarrassment.
'We should—w-why don't we sit down?' says Buck and it's easier to look at him for some reason, pressed against the counter as if he's trying to back as far away from Dad as he can. His face it wet, shining with tears, eyes red-rimmed; he was crying when Chris came in and Dad was comforting him and Chris didn't even notice. It just makes him angrier.
'I don't want to sit down,' he shouts.
'Chris, we have to talk about this,' Dad is almost pleading now, expression cracked open.
'Why? Because I caught you? You haven't told me anything so far and it's been months.'
'I'm sorry,' says Dad, 'Chris, I'm so sorry I haven't been honest with you.'
They already lost mom. They already lost Bobby. He's nearly lost Dad and Buck so many times and if they break up he'll lose Buck all over again, in a different way, where Buck is fine just living a life without Chris in it. And if they don't break up everything will be different because Buck will be a parent and parents die and they hide the truth and they—.
Chris pivots on his crutches, moving as fast as he can but he only makes it to the living room, stopped between the coffee table and the couch; Buck's coffee table, Dad's couch. This house with only two bedrooms and a kitchen that's as much Buck's as it is theirs. Buck's shoes and jackets lined up in the hall closet since well before he lived here on his own. Chris sits down, a collapse as much as a conscious decision, Dad and Buck framed in the archway to the dining room, side by side, and it's so strange, how much of his childhood is defined by that sight, unquestioned and unremarkable. How different it feels seeing it now he understands all the implications.
There's no where else to go, he ran away once and that didn't fix anything, and they agreed to talk to each other more but it doesn't count if Dad only ever tells him half the truth, if that.
'Go on then, tell me,' he demands.
Dad heaves in a breath and comes to sit beside him on the couch. Buck sits in the armchair.
'We aren't dating—,' says Dad.
Chris screws his face up, sneering in disbelief, ready to argue but Dad carries on, 'we talked about it, when we moved back to LA, but we decided it was too soon after Bobby—,' he swallows, his eyes flicking to the ceiling, mouth bitten and twisted, 'it was too soon after Bobby died and we wanted to make sure you were okay before we changed something else.'
That's worse. Can't they see how that's worse? Denying themselves what they want on Chris's behalf, making themselves miserable because of him—for him.
'I never asked you to do that,' he says, his voice cracking.
'I know, mijo, but this is—,' he looks at Buck, both of them grown up and still lost for words, 'this is a big deal. We wanted to get it right.'
'That's stupid,' Chris mutters, looking down at his lap, his hands curled stiffly, his whole body aching from the tension.
There's a pause, then Dad says, 'why is it stupid, Chris?'
'I don't want things to change,' he says, louder now, 'and I don't want to lose Buck when you break up. But you're already together, it's too late! And you didn't even ask me!'
Buck and Dad exchange a look, baffled this time, and Chris can't believe they're actually this stupid.
'We're—?' Buck starts, 'we're not together?'
'Yes, you are. You spend all your time together, you live together, you argue,' Chris says, 'if you're not dating you might as well be.'
That seems to floor them, both Dad and Buck staring at him, shocked and silent.
'I can—I can move out. We don't—,' says Buck and he twitches like he might be about to stand up, like he's going to pack a bag and go right now.
'I don't want you to leave,' Chris says, pleading now. He knows it contradictory, he can't explain it, still holding tight to too many things and if it's him that makes Buck go he doesn't think he could stand it.
'What do you want, Chris?' says Dad, so gently.
For everything to stay the same. For the people he loves not to die. To be treated like an adult. To get to still be a kid. To go on a date with Alyssa. To not have to ask. All of it childish and stupid and not how the world works.
Chris shakes his head, shoulders jerking and he's crying before even he realizes it's coming, silent as the sobs rattle through him, so big and so loud in his head they come out as nothing but choked breath.
'Oh, Chris, come here, mijo.'
Dad gathers him up, arms around him so tight and it's not a panic attack this time just grief with nowhere to put it. Except Dad takes it, holds it, holds Chris, pressing kisses into his hair, murmuring soothing sounds. Chris just sits there, letting it flood out, not even trying to stop even as he gets snottier, his head hurting, throat sore.
It subsides eventually, tears drying tight on his cheeks but not actively falling anymore. Dad's shirt has a wet patch on it, the fabric wrinkled from Chris's clutching hands. Chris sits up, coming back to himself, but Dad doesn't let him go far. Buck is sat on the coffee table in front of them, offering Chris a glass of water, a cool flannel in his other hand. Chris takes it wiping his face, then sipping gratefully at the water, he hadn't even been aware of Buck moving, going to the kitchen, coming back and sitting with them.
He feels like he's let something go. He's not fine, he's not happy, with this or how things have been but he's not holding so tight to it anymore and there's clarity in that.
'How do you feel?' says Dad, brushing his hair from his forehead, settling his glasses straight.
'Better.'
'Do you want to go to bed or do you want to stay up for a bit? We don't have to talk about this right now, you can take your time.'
'I'll stay up. We can watch something.'
'Okay.'
Dad takes his arm back, shifting to get more comfortable on the couch, reaching for the remote. Buck takes Chris's empty glass and the flannel out of his hands, standing to head back to the kitchen. Chris isn't really ready to talk about this, although he knows they have to, he wants to, once his head is clear but there's one thing he needs to say, one thing he is sure of, looking at Buck.
'I don't want you to leave.'
Buck shakes his head, 'I'm not going anywhere.'
*
They go to the beach. Dad and Buck are somewhere nearby but they're not hovering. It's a nice day, not too hot or overcrowded. They find a spot to sit on the sand and Chris still doesn't know if it's a date.
'I was here when there was a tsunami once,' he says during a lull in the conversation and Alyssa turns her head sharply to look at him, 'on the pier.'
'What?'
'It was a long time ago. I was a kid. I was here with Buck,' he says.
Alyssa's frowning now, 'well, he's a firefighter, right? So you'd have been safe with him.'
'He saved my life,' says Chris, surprised by the fundamental truth of that statement.
Alyssa smiles like she's grateful to Buck for doing something to keep Chris around before she even knew him. She lives with her mom. She hasn't said much about her dad but kids at school talk and Chris has heard enough to work out that he's part of the reason they left Arizona. Buck loves Chris, would do anything for him, same as Dad. His Mom loved him too, before she died. Not everyone gets to have that. Not everyone gets to have a family like Chris does.
'I'm sorry about the other day,' says Alyssa, scooping sand and letting it run through her fingers, pale grains sticking to her palm, and it takes Chris a minute to work out what she means.
'It's fine.'
She shakes her head, 'it's just—Dylan likes Kristen, Jake likes Kristen. You mentioned her and I figured you must like her too. Instead of me, y'know. It's stupid.'
Chris can't even remember mentioning Kristen that day and if he did it was only in passing. Alyssa is friends with Kristen too. It's not like they've never talked about her; they gossip about the Jake-Dylan situation loads.
'Me and Kristen have been friends a long time,' he says, digging his own hands in to the sand, deep enough it's a little damp, 'she's like a sister.'
'I said it was stupid. I dunno. I only just got here, so—. And you all know each other so well. I think I just felt out of place.'
Chris turns to look at her but she's watching the ocean. They both have reasons to feel that way, big and small. He didn't mean to upset her but he gets it, he's been on edge a lot recently, little things pissing him off, turning into big feelings that are hard to shake. He keeps getting stuck, unable to filter the significant from the insignificant, and everything feels like dying, all the time.
'I know what you mean,' he says and she turns her head to face him, there are freckles across her nose, her eyes are honeyed in the sunshine and she is so pretty.
'Yeah, I guess you do,' she agrees.
They're teetering on the edge of something and she's all but admitted that she wants him to like her that way. The anxiety is back behind Chris's ribs, expanding out to fill his chest, buoyant and fizzing. He lets that feeling carry him, bolster him and make him brave.
'I don't like her like I like you, anyway.'
'That's good,' Alyssa looks down but she's smiling and it's so easy to match it, 'do you want to get some ice cream?'
'Okay. Let's go.'
Sand is always a pain to walk on but Alyssa offers him a hand to pull him up to standing. When he's on his feet she picks up his crutches, handing him one, her elbow out for him to take and they walk slowly, arms linked back to the boardwalk.
*
Dad picks him up from his after school robotics club but they don't take the turning to drive home straightway.
'Where are we going?' says Chris, looking up from his phone and his chat with Alyssa.
'Thought we could get dinner. Me and you. At that taco place you like.'
'Really? Can I get the tres leches for dessert?'
'I don't know,' Dad chuckles, teasing, 'can you share?'
Chris rolls his eyes, 'yes, Dad.'
He knows what this is about but they make it all the way through the appetizers and most of the way through a massive sharing tray of tacos before Dad brings it up. He wipes his mouth on his napkin, leaning forward, suddenly serious but Chris is in a good mood today, he had fun with Dylan at robotics club and he hung out with Alyssa at lunch. He's ready to listen.
'I wanted to talk to you, about me and Buck, and how you feel about it,' Dad says, 'I know it's a change, Chris, but it's a good one, I think.'
Chris has had way too much time to think about it all, to come up with the worse case scenarios, and he hasn't been letting himself get used to the idea. In spite of everything they've fallen into an easy routine and he does like having Buck around but that comes with the anxiety that everything can change in an instant. They'll never get anywhere if he doesn't try to articulate it, looking out into the restaurant as he searches for the words.
'I know. I just—I don't want you guys to break up. I don't want to never see Buck again.'
'We can’t know the future but obviously I don’t want to break up with Buck,' says Dad.
'Yeah, but you didn't want to break up with Ana or Marisol either but you did. And this will be worse,' says Chris, scraping his fork through a smear of guacamole on his plate.
'Well…it was different with Ana and Marisol,' says Dad, almost like he's forcing it out.
'Why?'
'I liked them when I started dating them and I hoped I could love them eventually but it turned out I was too focused on the idea of the relationship we might have rather than the relationship we did have. It wasn't sustainable and it wouldn't have been fair to them.'
'And it's different with Buck?'
'Yes. I loved him already. I've loved him for a long time without even realizing.'
'Oh.'
Chris lets that sink in; the serious way Dad means it.
They haven't got into it and Chris doesn't give a shit about the details but it's not lost on him that his Dad is effectively coming out to him. There are kids at Chris's school, his friends, who are out, but it's taken Dad this long, to work it out or feel comfortable saying it. He hasn't offered up a label and Chris isn't going to ask but there are some answers that cast his whole existence in a new light.
'What about mom? he says instead.
Dad looks at him for a long moment, searching Chris's face.
'That's different too. We were so young when we met, when we got married. I wouldn't change it, I wouldn't change having you, but we never got a chance to work out what we wanted to be to each other.'
He pauses, seems to collect himself, eyes shining with nearly-shed tears, 'we would have been friends, I think,' then with more certainty, 'we would have been friends.'
It sucks to hear that his parents weren't in love or not in love the way couples are supposed to be, that if his Mom were still alive they probably wouldn't be together anymore. So many of his friends have parents who are split up and they all agree it was so much worse right before they got divorced. When he thinks about it, Dad's friendship with Buck is his most successful long-term relationship so far; it’d be pretty lame if they weren't doing anything about it.
'Okay,' says Chris and Dad reaches over the table to take hold of his hand.
'And you and Buck, you get to decide what your relationship is now. Whatever you want. But I do know he isn't going anywhere, whatever happens.'
Chris knows his fears were unfounded but it doesn’t make the feeling of them any less real. He’d been so afraid of things changing he hadn’t appreciated how much they’d stayed the same, the steadiness of Buck in his life, his dad and everything he’d do for Chris, has done for him. None of that has changed, not really.
'Okay, fine you can date Buck.'
'Well, a very wise person told me I already was,' says Dad but he smiles, so broad and relieved it settles Chris's anxiety too.
'Yeah. I'm really smart, Dad. I thought you knew that.'
Chris orders the tres leches cake to go, shrugging at his Dad's raised eyebrow, 'Buck likes it. We can all share.'
'I'm so glad you're my kid, Chris.'
'Yeah. Me too.'
*
'Thanks, Mr Diaz,' says Alyssa, as Buck hands her a coke in the back yard. This time all Chris does is try to hide his laughter against his shoulder, pretty unsuccessfully.
Buck goes pink again, ducking his head, but he says, 'still not Mr Diaz.'
'Not yet!' Dad yells from the grill and Buck goes even redder.
'Dad! Gross,' says Chris.
'I better check he's not burning anything,' says Buck, throwing a thumb over his shoulder before he heads across the garden to Dad's side, forcefully taking back the tongs, 'you are not proposing to me like that.'
Dad puts his arm around Buck's waist, a smitten look on his face, 'I'll propose to you how I like.'
Chris heckles them again, 'double gross!'
'I think it's cute,' says Alyssa quietly, knocking her hand against Chris's, their pinkies hooked together, 'you never told me your dads were so hot.'
Chris grins at her, 'runs in the family.'