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Evan wasn't always as confident and impulsive as he is now, as a twenty-seven-year-old firefighter working with some of the best people he's ever had the luck of being friends with.
Sometimes he still feels like eight-year-old Evan, shy and antisocial and the prime target for bullies, constantly not feeling as though he's enough for everyone unless he's wearing the LAFD uniform. Getting teased and shoved around on an almost daily basis isn't something he misses all too much from his childhood.
Evan sighs, sitting down on the bench in the locker room and rubbing his temples with a frown. this week has been… complicated, to say the least. Too many deaths and almost deaths, and it's completely drained him. He doesn't feel like Buck, the superhero that saves the day with the 118. He feels like the scared, tiny, and alone Evan who just wants to curl up into a ball and cry. He feels weak.
He hates this feeling, his breath being taken away by overwhelming fear and the crushing weight of 'I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough.' The mantra repeats in his head, even as he changes and leaves the firehouse, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and eyes locked on his sneakers.
It's raining, and all he can think about is how he couldn't save them. Children, adolescents, and adults, all lost within a week. Countless shifts and overtime, only for him to fail, to fail the people he took a pledge to save. The rain soaks through his jacket and mixes in with tears, and a part of him is glad he left when he did. Saves him the humiliation of crying in front of his family. He can't even begin to fathom the kind of shit Hen or Chim would say, much less Bobby.
He's way too damn deep in his thoughts that he doesn't even notice that he's made his way to his apartment complex. He rests his head against the cool, wet metal of the door, then opens it, shuddering as he steps inside. The rain certainly did not help with his pounding headache, leaving him feeling worse than what he did when he left. His clothing is soaked and he's dripping all over the carpet, and he ignores people's glances and just focuses on getting to his apartment.
He rubs his temples again and opens the door, a blast of cold air immediately slapping him in the face, making his teeth chatter and his fingers go numb. he shucks off his jacket and shirt, feeling sticky and wet and wrong.
As Evan gets undressed and heads to his room to towel off and find dry clothes, he thinks of all the people he's failed. The nine-year-old girl, Mariana, for instance. She was stuck in a tree she'd climbed, unable to go back down, her grip loosening on the branch she'd been hanging off of. He'd almost gotten to her before she fell.
Almost.
She's alive, he thinks. at least she didn't lose her life because he was too slow. but she'd landed on her back, and now she's paralysed from the waist down. So maybe she did lose her life. Or, at least, some aspect of it. Doesn't change the fact that she'll never be able to walk again.
Or the lawyer, same age as he is, caught in a two-car collision. He didn't make it - he was bleeding out too quickly, Evan couldn't get him out of the car in time. He'd already passed out from the shock when they'd gotten there, but it didn't matter how many chest compressions Hen had done, she couldn't bring him back to life.
There are more - of course, there are more - but he doesn't want to think about it.
Instead, he shimmies out of his pants and leaves his wet phone on the tableside drawer, then finds clean boxers and sweatpants to put on. Once he's somewhat dressed, he heads back to his living room and collapses on the couch.
He's too tired to continue crying. He's worn out, drained of everything he has to give. He rests his head against the back of the couch and sighs, taking a deep breath. His eyelids droop, weary and aching to just close for the night. God knows he needs sleep. It's not too long before he eventually does fall asleep at an awkward angle on his couch, no one there to tell him 'it isn't a good idea to sleep like that'.
He can't remember when he falls asleep, but he remembers waking up. the sickening crunch of Mariana's body as it hits the grass, except in the dream it wasn't grass, it was pavement, and she didn't survive the fall. The dream doesn't fade from his mind after he jolts awake, gasping for breath. He feels way too hot and trapped inside his body, like he's drowning in the blood of those who've died because he's too slow and not good enough, filling his lungs and leaving him gasping for air.
Black gradually fades in, clouding his vision, and he squeezes his eyes shut, hands pressed over his ears, then digging his palms into his eyes, rocking back and forth from his place on the floor, desperately trying to ignore the tears slipping down his cheeks and the ringing in his ears. flashes of victims, people who've unfairly died because of his actions pop inside of his mind and he sobs, his throat aching with the force of it.
He can't breathe. All he can do is sit, cry, wheeze, and hope to come out of this panic attack before it's time to go back to the station.
He heaves in air, trying to suck some into his lungs, wiping tears from his eyes and just waiting for it to subside, for his head to clear and for him to stop feeling like he's suffocating. God, what would Eddie say?
Eddie.
Oh, fuck, he forgot about Eddie. He stands shakily, legs trembling and heart racing as he stumbles upstairs and to his room, picking up his phone and turning it on. luckily it still works, and he goes to his contacts. He presses Eddie's name and then calls. He already knows he has a tonne of notifications from various people, but he only wants Eddie right now.
It's selfish. Eddie probably doesn't even want, nor need Evan. He's around because it makes Christopher happy. That doesn't stop him from calling Eddie. The phone rings and he wonders if he should just hang up, it's late and Eddie's probably asleep or busy, but then the line clicks and Evan covers his mouth, muffling the sobs he lets out into the receiver.
"Buck, you okay?" Eddie's concerned voice rings out, and Evan shakes and tries to answer but he just can't. "Buckley? Hey, man, do I need to come over or something? Should I call Maddie?" Eddie rambles and Evan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, shrugging.
"Can you- can you just come here, please? I need you, Eddie, I- I can't be alone right now, just- please if you aren't busy with anything," Evan breathes into the phone. He's still panicking slightly, but hearing Eddie's voice helps. It always does.
Eddie's been so good to him. Too good to him, he doesn't deserve him. He loves Eddie, more than a friend should, and there are some times where he thinks there might just be a chance Eddie loves him, too. He's known about his interest in Eddie for some time now. Ever since the Santa's elf coming up to Evan, complimenting him on Christopher, referring to the boy as he and Eddie's son. He'd hesitated, debating on whether to tell her he and Eddie aren't together, but he's selfish, and he'd eventually just thanked her and walked away.
They'd saved the teenager with the larvae in her face, and he'd read the comments on the live stream that he and Eddie would be a cute couple. He'd smiled and blushed, dipping his head and giving the girl her phone back. He wonders if there's a chance that Eddie and he can be the cute couple everyone assumes they are.
"No, I'm not busy, and I can stay for however long you need me to, Christopher is going to stay with Carla. I'm on my way, Buck." Eddie replies, and Evan smiles shakily, ending the call. Eddie is on his way to come help, and that makes him feel better, the tight feeling in his chest loosening just a smidge.
Evan tosses on a hoodie and exits his room, pocketing his phone and walking downstairs. It's still somewhat of a mess, damp clothing in a pile by the door and his wet shoes strewn across the floor. He does some quick cleaning; picking up his clothes and shoes and bringing them to his laundry room, placing his shoes on top of the dryer and his clothes in the washing machine, then grabbing a towel and drying the wet spots on the floor.
He feels a little better, knowing that Eddie's coming over and he's cleaned up a bit, but he's still failed. He breathes deeply and sits down, head in his hands. He doesn't know how long he sits there, but when he hears a knock on the door, then a key in the keyhole and the knob turning, he turns his attention to Eddie, smiling weakly.
"You okay, Buck?" Eddie sits down next to him on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, and Evan looks down at his feet, shrugging. "You- you wanna talk about it?"
"This whole week, it just- I couldn't save them, Eddie, they're either dead or- or almost dead, and I tried so hard but I'm just not good enough," Evan rushes the words out, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, only stilling when Eddie places a hand on his, making Evan look him in the eyes.
"Bu- Evan," Eddie corrects himself, rubbing his thumb over Evan's knuckles, shifting closer to him with a frown, "You are good enough. There's nothing that doesn't make you good enough; you couldn't have gotten there faster, you did your best and that's all that matters. You save people. We've all lost someone, and yeah, it hurts, but you have to realise it's not your fault."
"You're right, but I can't close my eyes without seeing them, knowing that I could've done something for them, Eddie." He whispers, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder, sniffling. "I just- I feel so worthless." Eddie frowns, wrapping one of his arms around Evan in a comforting embrace, the other still gripping his hand.
"You're not. I know you might not believe it, but you mean more to me than you realise. There is absolutely no way you're worthless, you aren't even close to the definition of the word, cariño. You're a damn good firefighter, and a great friend." He finishes his piece, watching Evan carefully. Evan squeezes Eddie's hand, interlacing their fingers with a small smile.
"Thanks, Eddie," He says, pressing closer to the other, basking in his warmth. Eddie smiles back, running a hand through Evan's hair and gently presses his lips to his forehead. Evan returns the favour by kissing Eddie's cheek, and soon, they're both giggling and cuddling on the couch, worries forgotten for the time being.
"Buck, I just want you to know that I meant what I said, when we first met. I've got your back, and I know you've got mine, too. I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what happens. If you need anything, ever, I'm only a phone call away." Eddie murmurs, kissing his temple and smiling against his skin, squeezing his hand gently.
"I know, Eddie. I'm here for you, too, always." He replies, and all his worries evaporate as Eddie smiles, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up in the genuine smile that Evan knows and loves.
Evan is safe, nestled in Eddie's arms. Eddie's here, and he'll find him if he's lost.