Chapter Text
It’s been three weeks since the breakup with Tommy, and Buck is finally starting to come to terms with it. He’s found ways to keep himself busy—babysitting Jee, for one, which has been a bigger help than he’d expected.
Not just with the breakup, but with the Chris-sized hole in his heart. Four months have passed since everything with Eddie and Christopher fell apart, but it still stings. Every time Buck glances at his fridge and sees the picture of the three of them—him, Eddie, and Christopher—the ache in his chest shifts from breakup heartbreak to something deeper. The kind of heartbreak you feel when your found family starts slipping away.
So, to cope, Buck does what Buck does best: he makes a list.
Bouncing Back
1.Closet clean-out
2.Clean and declutter the loft
3.Decorate for the holidays
4.New hobby (something that involves less flour)
5.Finish reading list for the year
6.Spend more time with friends and family
The first couple of tasks are easy enough. A few boxes, a trip to the store for cleaning supplies, and he’s good to go.
He starts with the kitchen—the messiest place in the loft—and tackles the sea of baked goods cluttering his counters. Before he clears them out, he snaps a quick picture for the group chat.
Buck: Last chance for baked goods for a while. Taking the rest to the soup kitchen later 🫶🏽
Maddie: So you’re done with baking?
Buck: For now. At least until the holidays.
Karen: Does this mean you’re ready to move on?
Buck: I’m working on it. Starting with hobbies that involve less flour.
Athena: Good for you, Buck! (I wouldn’t say no to a pumpkin loaf before you donate, though.)
Once the kitchen sparkles, Buck grabs the boxes and heads up to his bedroom. He pulls everything from his closet and dresser, dumping it in a heap on his bed. He’s midway through sorting when his phone rings. Glancing at the screen, he answers and puts it on speaker.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Did you know my dad’s thinking about moving to Texas?”
Buck pauses, pulling a threadbare shirt from the pile and tossing it into the box meant for the animal shelter. “Uh, yeah. He mentioned it.”
“Are you going to stop him?” Chris asks, his voice sharp with frustration. Buck can almost picture him crossing his arms, frowning in that way that looks far too much like Eddie.
“If he wants to move to Texas, that’s his call,” Buck replies. “Do I hate the idea? Yeah, of course. But you’re in Texas, Chris, and he wants to be near you.”
“But what if I want to come home? I can’t do that if my dad’s in Texas too!” Chris’s voice cracks slightly, and Buck sits on the edge of the bed, sighing.
“Buddy, have you talked to him about this? Told him you’re thinking about coming home?”
“No, not yet,” Chris admits reluctantly. “I’m not sure I’m ready. But I liked having the option. Now I’m losing that option!”
Buck grabs a pair of old jeans and tosses them into the donation box, his tone softening. “Chris, unless you talk to him, he’s going to stay set on moving. He thinks he’s doing the right thing by being closer to you.”
“Can’t you talk to him?”
“Not for this one, kid.” Buck smiles faintly, even though Chris can’t see it. “This is something that has to come from you.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him.” Chris sighs. “So, you broke up with Tommy?”
Buck chuckles and continues to talk to the kid, that's not his but he love like his own, while he sorts through his clothes. Getting rid of a lot more than he decides to keep.
Buck is in the middle of vacuuming his rugs when the front door swings open. Only two people have a key to his loft, and his sister is at work right now.
“Buck?” Eddie’s voice carries through the space just as Buck powers off the vacuum. “Hey!”
“Hey,” Buck replies, tucking the vacuum back into the little closet under the stairs. “What’s up?”
“Chris called,” Eddie says, dropping onto the freshly fluffed couch cushions.
“Oh yeah?” Buck asks, sitting down beside him. “How’d that go?”
“It was okay, I guess. My parents told him I’m thinking about moving to Texas.” Eddie chuckles dryly, absently picking at the tassel on a throw pillow. “He basically told me I’m not allowed.”
Buck’s eyebrows rise. “Do you think he’s ready to come home?”
“I don’t think so—not yet. But he was pretty upset about the idea of not having the option anymore.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, right? Means he’s thinking about it.”
“Yeah, I think so.” Eddie avoids eye contact, and Buck knows that look. He’s hiding something.
“What?” Buck presses, leaning toward him.
Eddie turns to meet his gaze, those puppy-dog eyes in full effect. They always hit Buck like a punch to the chest, making him feel like he’d do anything Eddie asked of him.
“I’m still going to go to Texas,” Eddie finally admits with a sigh, and Buck’s stomach drops. “I’ve got some vacation time saved up. I’m planning to go down for two weeks. Hopefully by the time I get back, Christopher will be ready to come home.”
Buck nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. It’s only two weeks—not forever, like he’d feared. He can survive two weeks without Eddie.
“Okay,” Buck says, forcing a supportive tone. “When do you plan on leaving?”
“As soon as I talk to Cap.” Eddie slumps back into the couch with another sigh. “Could you keep an eye on my house while I’m gone? Just make sure it doesn’t get musty or anything?”
“Of course!” Buck answers quickly, maybe a little too eagerly.
“Thanks, man.” Eddie gives him a small, grateful smile before leaning back against the cushions.
“No problem.” Buck tries to keep his tone light, but there’s a tightness in his chest he can’t quite shake. “Two weeks will fly by. You’ll be back before we know it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, but his voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “I just… I need to do this, you know? For Chris. For me.”
Buck nods, forcing himself to meet Eddie’s gaze. “I get it. You’re doing what’s best for him. That’s what matters.”
Eddie studies him for a moment, then nods. “I appreciate that, Buck. I really do.”
Buck smiles, small but genuine. “You’ve got this. And hey, your house is in good hands. I’ll even water the plants.”
Eddie chuckles, the sound easing some of the tension between them. “What plants?”
Buck laughs. “Okay, fine. I’ll just sit on your couch and eat your snacks.”
“Sounds about right,” Eddie teases, a flicker of warmth returning to his expression.
For a moment, they sit in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation still lingering but softened by the familiarity between them.
“Guess I should talk to Cap,” Eddie says finally, pushing himself up from the couch.
“Yeah.” Buck stands too, walking him to the door. “Let me know when you’re heading out. I’ll help you pack or something.”
Eddie gives him a grateful look as he steps outside. “I will. Thanks, Buck.”
“Anytime.” Buck watches him go, closing the door only when Eddie disappears down the hallway.
Two weeks, he reminds himself. It’s just two weeks.
But as he leans back against the door, staring at the now-empty space, he wonders why it feels so much longer.
Eddie leaves on a Tuesday. Buck doesn’t have to work again until Thursday, so he doesn’t even have a good direction for the first two days that Eddie is gone. After dropping Eddie off at the airport, Buck goes to a craft store and just looks around for something, anything, he could do to keep his mind off Eddie. (He avoids the baking supplies aisle because that’s not a road he feels like going down again)
He ends up grabbing a pack of tiny acrylic paints and a buck of little woods knick knacks of different things that he can sit and paint.
It ends up being kind of relaxing. He starts with a bird house, but he ends up painting it like a gingerbread house to go with the season. When he’s finished, he takes a picture and send it to the group chat, once again.
Buck: gingerbread birdhouse, free to a good home
He then looks at his clock and realizes that everyone is probably in bed, so he doesn’t expect a response.
Buck quickly cleans up his paint mess and slowly climbs up the steps, changing into a pair of sweatpants.
Just as he is rolling to turn the lamp off, his phone starts ringing.
“Eddie?”
“Hey Buck,” Buck sits up on high alert. Eddie definitely sounds like he’s been crying.
“Everything okay?”
Eddie sniffles. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so? Eddie, it’s 1am your time and you called me crying.”
Eddie chuckles over the phone and then sighs, “yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t think I realized how hard coming back to Texas would be.”
Buck hums. “My dad, he…was civil. My mom was less than happy that I’m here. I took Christopher out for burgers and we talked some more, but being her it just-“
Eddie sniffles again. And Buck gets it, he’d feel the same way going back to Hershey.
“Hey, say the word and I’ll come down there.”’
Eddie lets out a soft laugh, one that’s halfway between amused and choked with emotion. “You can’t just drop everything to come here, Buck. You’ve got work, and a life in LA.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’ve got much of a life if it doesn’t include you and Christopher,” Buck says honestly.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Buck can almost hear Eddie trying to pull himself together.
“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says finally, his voice thick but lighter than it was a moment ago.
Buck grins, leaning back against the pillows. “Maybe. But you knew that when you called me at one in the morning.”
Eddie hums, and for a moment neither of them speaks. The silence feels easy, filled with the kind of comfort only they seem to find in each other.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Eddie murmurs eventually.
“You didn’t,” Buck assures him. “Besides, you know I’d rather lose sleep than not be here when you need me.”
Eddie sighs, a sound that’s both tired and grateful. “I think I just… needed to hear your voice. Being here, it’s like I’m back in this place I worked so hard to get away from, and everything’s just—” He trails off, searching for the right words.
“Overwhelming?” Buck offers.
“Yeah.”
“Then let me carry some of it,” Buck says softly. “You don’t have to do this alone, Eddie. You never have to do this alone.”
Eddie doesn’t respond right away, but Buck can hear the quiet hitch of his breath, the way his silence speaks volumes.
“I know,” Eddie says eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.
For a while, they just talk—nothing heavy, just the kind of easy conversation that makes the miles between them feel a little smaller. Eddie tells Buck about the burger place he and Christopher went to, and Buck shares how he managed to get acrylic paint all over his hands and then accidentally smudge it on his face.
Eventually, Eddie’s responses grow slower, quieter, until there’s a long pause after one of Buck’s questions.
“Eddie?” Buck calls softly.
There’s no reply, just the faint sound of Eddie’s steady breathing on the other end of the line.
Buck smiles, a soft, fond feeling blooming in his chest. “Goodnight, Eddie,” he whispers, even though he knows Eddie can’t hear him.
He doesn’t hang up. Instead, he leaves the line open, listening to the comforting rhythm of Eddie’s breathing as he lets himself drift off, feeling just a little closer to him despite the distance.