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The road is dead quiet. They haven’t seen another car for at least a hundred miles.
The piece of shit Eddie bought bumps along the cracked pavement, every jostle jolting their bruised bodies.
Buck hates it. He hates the silence. He hates the fact that they haven’t talked about it.
It’s bubbling up inside him—the burning need to tell Eddie what happened—the anger that has replaced all the tiredness in his bones.
Eddie keeps glancing at him when he thinks Buck isn’t looking. Buck manages to catch him every time but he can’t be the one to talk first. He doesn’t want to make it about himself again.
That’s what he always does isn’t it? He always gets himself into horrible situations and then everyone around him has to deal with the aftermath.
Not this time. No, if anyone asks he’s fine. He’s good at that—good at pretending that everything is just fine.
He isn’t fine. He’s terrified. Terrified of the images that haunt him every time he closes his eyes. Derek’s room, Derek’s clothes, Derek’s mom.
Bonnie. Another mother who only wanted him as a replacement for her long gone son. How many times is he going to play that role? How many times is someone going to look at him and only see an empty vessel?
Buck’s head is pounding again, an insistent throb that has been plaguing him since they got in the car.
He wishes he could go back in time. Go back and never insist that they stop for food. Never ask Bonnie for directions. Never draw too much attention in the diner. If he had just stayed quiet none of this would have ever happened.
Eddie is looking at him again, he can feel the stare like lasers into the side of his head.
They haven’t said a word in hours. The silence between them is heavy and stagnant.
Eddie probably blames him for it all. He wouldn’t be surprised—he can’t be surprised when it really is all his fault. He tried to have a fun time and look where that got them. Every good thing in his life gets ruined because he somehow manages to fuck it all up and make it all about himself.
His spiral of self-pity is rudely interrupted by a startling lurch.
“Oh shit.” Eddie mumbles under his breath.
A chugging sensation rattles Buck’s head where it rests against the window, adding to the compounding pressure in his skull.
“What? What’s wrong?” Buck asks, finally lifting his head up to look out the windshield.
Smoke billows up from under the hood, gray streaks barely visible in the setting sun.
Eddie flicks the hazard lights on without a word, gently guiding the smoking car to the shoulder.
“I think the car is overheating.” Eddie says with a sigh, unbuckling his seat belt and climbing out of the car.
Buck follows him reluctantly, wincing as his bad leg cramps slightly from sitting too long.
Eddie pops open the hood and more smoke plumes upwards, making them both cough.
Buck’s ribs ache horribly and he has to take shallow breaths till the burning subsides.
“Fuck. I was worried this would happen. The guy said it overheats. I should have listened to him.” Eddie grumbles to himself and shrugs off his jacket gingerly, fanning it out over the engine to displace the smoke.
“Great. Just great.” Buck kicks at the dirt below his feet. “So we are stuck in the middle of the desert–six hours from home–with nothing but the clothes on our back and this piece of shit car.”
He kicks the tire out of anger, immediately regretting it as his leg muscles cramp more.
“Shit.” Buck stumbles to the side, leaning heavily on the open passenger door.
“Woah. Woah. Buck it’s okay. The car just needs to cool down. Why are you so angry?” Eddie walks towards him with calm and measured steps, his hands out like he’s cornering a feral animal.
It pisses him off. That bubbling anger is boiling over, seeping out of him.
“It’s not okay Eddie! Nothing is okay!” Buck throws his hands up, pain shooting through the bruised muscles on his ribs.
“Buck, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself more. I’ll handle it. Just-just go wait in the car or something.”
“Why? Is it because you’re afraid I am gonna fuck everything up again? Just admit it, you think it’s my fault we are even in this mess. That’s why you have been so quiet. That’s why you keep looking at me with that-that face!” Buck yells out into the dusty air.
Eddie backs away from him slightly, dropping his jacket into the dirt, hurt and frustration glazing over his features.
Buck should feel bad, he should stop yelling. This isn’t Eddie’s fault and yet screaming about it, getting all this pent up anger out, feels good.
Months and months of keeping it all in. All the pain of losing Bobby, walking like a ghost through the firehouse because everyone seemed so annoyed to be around him. Moving out as quickly as possible because Eddie and Chris didn’t need him anymore. Being scared of his own home because a stranger was living in his ceiling. Pretending to be fine while Hen looked him in the eyes and told him he had failed her. Giving the firefighter games everything he had just to fail Bobby and not win. Getting kidnapped in the middle of fucking no where.
He’s sick of it. Sick of trying so damn hard and still being blamed. What had Eddie said? The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley: a tragedy in ninety-seven acts. After all these months the words still haunt him. Even Eddie thinks he’s a fucking joke.
“You think I blame you? Buck, how could I blame you?” Eddie asks, staggering back.
He looks devastated, his face screwing up and tears welling in his eyes.
“Eddie, how could you not blame me? It’s so easy. I blame myself. I fucked everything up. If I had just convinced Bonnie sooner. If I had just been able to play the part—be Derek, then you wouldn’t have almost been shot. You would be home with Christopher and all of you would have forgotten about me. You know I get why Bobby did it, I get why he sacrificed himself for the people he loves. I could have been like him—I was supposed to be like him. Like father, like son. It should have ended right there, but no, now I am stuck with the memories and seeing her face every time I close my fucking eyes.”
His throat is raw from screaming and he welcomes the pain. The ache—the physical manifestation of all the hatred growing inside him.
Eddie is staring at him, staring at Buck while he huffs and puffs, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. The sun is almost completely gone, casting long shadows on everything.
“You were going to be Derek? You were just going to give up? Buck why—why would you do that? Why would you think that’s what I would want? Did you-do you not want to live?”
Does he? Does he even want to live?
“I-I don’t know. Eddie, I don’t know anymore. The universe is trying so hard to kill me. Every single step I take leads me to almost dying or watching the people I love almost die. I can’t keep—I can’t fight it forever. I am so tired.” Buck feels all the fight in him give out.
He stumbles forward, his body draining of anger, of adrenaline. Just before he can fall to his knees and give up in the dirt, Eddie grabs him.
Eddie hauls him up, taking on all his body weight. Buck gives into it—for the first time in god knows how long he gives everything he has been carrying to someone else.
He breaks down, all the pain pouring out of him in heaving sobs. Eddie holds him up for a moment longer before slowly lowering them down, gently guiding Buck to lean against his chest.
He has no idea how long he sits there, no idea how long he sobs into Eddie’s shirt. The whole time Eddie’s hands are on him, soothing down his sides, pushing his hair back, holding his face.
Eddie is whispering a prayer above him, the words too quiet and quick for his ears to make out.
Eddie’s tears fall into Buck’s curls, his lips pressing into his temple when the prayer finally ends.
Buck’s tears and sobs subside slowly, everything in him hollowing out until he is just empty.
His chest hiccups with every other inhale, his diaphragm spasming in random bursts. It hurts, but it’s the kind of hurt he can focus on.
By the time he calms down the sun has fully set. Eddie is shivering slightly, wrapping Buck tighter in his arms.
“Are you back? Are you with me Buck?” Eddie whispers into Buck’s temple, his lips barely leaving the soft skin there.
“Yeah. Eddie-Eddie I’m sorry.” Buck chokes again, tears he didn’t know he had left stinging his eyes.
“No, no. Shush. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay. I got you.” Eddie’s lips brush Buck’s skin with every word, sending a shiver down his spine.
“You-you can’t do that ever again. You need to tell me when you feel like this. I-I can’t help you if I don’t know. Fuck I should have—I should have known something was wrong.” Eddie shakes his head briskly, moving Buck with him.
“I tried to hide it. I guess I did a pretty good job.” Buck replies with a hollow laugh.
Eddie pulls away from him in an instant, gripping Buck’s face with both of his hands. His eyes are intense, more intense than Buck has ever seen them. It scares him slightly, the overwhelming fierceness that Eddie is displaying.
“Don’t ever do that again. Don’t sacrifice yourself. Don’t try to be the hero. Do you think that’s what I want? Do you think I would want to grieve you alone? Because that’s what would have happened. I would've had to stay here and deal with the aftermath of losing you by myself. Alone in another dark room, crying while I call my—our son to tell him that his Buck is dead. He needs you, he’s yours too. I gave him to you, Buck. I gave him to you because I knew you would always fight to come home to him. You don’t get to make that sacrifice. I don’t care if it makes me selfish or controlling. I don’t care because we can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Buck.”
Buck’s heart stutters in his chest. Our son. Eddie has never said that before. Eddie gave him Chris all those years ago. Gave him something to live for and he—he almost left him behind.
“Okay.” Buck whispers. That's all he can say. How could he deny a request like that?
“I don’t blame you. I could never blame you. Fuck the universe. It won’t take you from me. Not like that. You are not Bobby. Bobby wouldn’t have wanted you to die like that. You aren’t going to die like that, you hear me. Trust me to find you. Trust me to make sure that you aren’t alone. Can you do that? Can you trust me?” Eddie’s fingers dig into Buck’s cheeks, focusing him, grounding him.
“Yes. Yes, I trust you Eddie.” Buck nods as best he can in the vice grip of Eddie’s hands.
Eddie sighs in relief, his whole body shuddering with the exhale.
“Good. I will always have your back. I am sorry I haven’t been there. I am sorry I have been distant. I just—I have been struggling with some things, with you. But that doesn’t matter. None of it matters except you. I am not going to leave your side again. We are going to go home and get you the help you need okay?” Eddie’s lips press softly on Buck's forehead.
“You have been struggling with me? What does that—what does that mean, Eddie?” Buck is afraid to ask, afraid of the glimmer of hope that sparks in his chest.
Eddie sighs deeply, Buck can feel his breath condense on the skin of his forehead.
Eddie pulls back again, a tear sliding down his face.
“I don’t want to make this about me, Buck.” Eddie whispers.
“Just tell me. Please?”
“I have been struggling since I got back from Texas. Struggling with how much I care for you. I tried to distance myself, tried to ignore it but I just ended up ignoring you. I let my fear drive you away and look at what happened. I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t. I am here thanks to you. I’m sorry. I guess-I guess I didn’t realize how much I have been drowning until, well, until this happened.”
“It’s okay, Buck. We will figure it out together. You and me against the universe, right?” Eddie says, his hands slowly sliding down from Buck’s face, landing on his shoulder’s, his thumbs finding their place in the dip of his collarbone.
They both shiver in the night air. The heat of their bodies pressed against each other is the only thing keeping them warm.
“Right. I-I think the car has cooled down now. It’s fucking freezing.” Buck smiles at him, the first genuine smile he has felt in what seems like forever.
“Ya, let’s get going.” Eddie replies, removing his hands and helping Buck get to his feet.
They stiffly walk back to the car, both their bodies aching from sitting on the hard ground.
Eddie’s hand slips into Buck’s easily, like it was always meant to be there.
“Maybe on the drive back you can explain how much you care about me.” Buck says, squeezing Eddie’s hand lightly.
“I will. I-I have a lot to confess.” Eddie smiles back at him, his eyes shining brightly in the moon light.
Buck slides back into the passenger seat, Eddie’s hand lingering in his own for just a second longer before he carefully shuts the car door.
Eddie rounds the car, slamming the hood and scooping up his jacket, making his way to the driver side.
Buck settles into his seat, his head resting heavy on the window with exhaustion. Eddie turns the ignition. The car rumbles to life loudly, a startling noise in the quiet night.
Eddie puts it into gear, checking his mirrors and shifting in his seat. He clears his throat and Buck looks over at him, looks at the soft smile dancing on his lips. Eddie’s eyes flit down to the center console where his hand is laying upwards, fingers out stretched.
Buck slips his hand into Eddie’s slowly, savoring the perfect fit and the butterflies that flutter in his stomach.
Everything will be okay.
Eddie squeezes his hand tightly, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of Buck’s hand.
“Let’s go home.”