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Chapter Text

Buck isn’t quite sure exactly when his issues with food and exercise began. He knows he was a young teenager, maybe 13 or 14-years-old, when he began obsessing over running and going to the gym after school for two- or three-hour workouts. He was perhaps 15 years old when calorie counting and strict restrictions started. The internet had told him that a teenager his age should be eating around 2,000 calories per day, but that just seemed so excessive – so he cut it down to 1,000. He made sure the calories he did eat were high in protein, complex carbs, and healthy fats so that he could build muscle, but the thought of having any more than 1,000 petrified him. It started as a diet, honestly, it did – he was a chubby pre-teen and he just wanted to lose that bit of stomach he had and wanted to build some muscle. But as time wore on, the fat melted off, and it became a fear more than it ever was a diet. He was truly terrified of gaining weight, of eating certain foods, of eating simple carbs or more than 1,000 calories.

He wasn’t oblivious or in denial. He knew he had an eating disorder. He knew his teachers and the few friends he had in high school probably knew too, but what could they do? If they told his parents, they apparently didn’t give a damn because graduation came and went with the eating disorder as active as ever. Looking back, he recognizes his parents were probably the trigger for his eating disorder. The way they treated him. They never really loved him, not like parents should anyway. They only ever tolerated him to the point that was required – they gave him a home and clothed him and fed him and sent him to school, but they never really loved him. He couldn’t make them love him; he couldn’t make them see him. The only thing that brought him any sort of happiness was the euphoria he experienced when he would look in the mirror and catch a glimpse of a muscle that looked a little bit bigger, or when he would be able to go to the gym and up the weight just a little bit more, or when he would come in under his calorie goal. Girls in high school paid attention to him, he actually got dates. They complimented him on his body, on his lean hips and muscled biceps, and it sent him to the fucking moon. That feeling? That happiness? He would chase that feeling for as long as he could.

It came to a head when he was working construction in Georgia. Of all the jobs he’d had along his journey up and down the east coast, that one had been the most physically demanding. The hours were long and the work was intense, and one day he collapsed on a job site. A short stay in the hospital and then a stint in a psychiatric unit helped and Buck began to unlearn the years of disordered eating he’d come to rely on. It was hard, and he had times where he relapsed, but he was ultimately proud of himself for getting out of the worst of it. The deep, dark depths of an eating disorder as bad as his was nearly enough to kill him, and he was just thankful he wasn’t there anymore. By the time he got to the fire academy, he was in the best shape he’d ever been in, physically and mentally. He finally wasn’t malnourished, he didn’t obsess over his image in the mirror anymore, he could go to the gym and workout for a perfectly normal and acceptable amount of time, and he could finally eat foods without the vice-like grip of fear around his heart every time he took a bite. Unfortunately, like many mental illnesses, eating disorders can come and go in waves, and all it took was a visit from his parents to send him spiraling again.

After his parents left in their RV, promising to return when Maddie had the baby, Buck put on this face of complete confidence. “Buck 3.0!” He said, “it’s time for a new me.” He’s not really sure what the first symptom was. Maybe it was re-downloading MyFitnessPal and obsessively counting calories and macros. Maybe it was spending an extra hour during his workouts or tacking on a five-mile run at the end of his days. He’s not entirely sure. He just knew that one day, he was right back in the middle of the eating disorder that nearly killed him, and it felt like he was drowning.

**

Eddie watched Buck stare into the fridge for what was at least two or three straight minutes. Literally, he just stood there motionless, hand gripping the handle, body hunched, staring at the contents, as if willing something to happen. Finally, he snapped up and closed the door, catching Eddie’s eyes before quickly looking away and sitting at the other end of the dining table from him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, very purposely avoiding Eddie’s gaze as he typed. Eddie just sighed and returned to the book in his hand, the letters jumbling together on the page in front of him as his thoughts ruminated in his head. Buck had definitely been acting strange recently – he spent an inordinate amount of time in the gym while at work, and he seemed to always have an excuse at mealtimes to not be with everyone. He had some chores he had to catch up or he “wasn’t that hungry anyway”. Sometimes, just as Bobby would be pulling dinner out of the oven, the alarm would ring, and Eddie would notice a look of pure relief pass over Buck’s face. Was he trying to avoid spending time with them?

“Buckaroo!” Chimney bounded up the stairs and made his way to the fridge, pulling out the makings for a sandwich and setting them on the counter. “And Edmundo!” He nodded his head to both men as he began to prepare his food.

“Hey Chim,” Eddie gave a quiet reply, watching Buck for his response. He didn’t say a word, and instead watched Chimney as he put his sandwich together.

“Do you want one?” Chim held the food up, extending it in Buck’s direction.

“Uhm, no,” Buck shook his head, swallowing hard and looking back down at his phone, “I’m not hungry.”

Chimney’s eyes flickered over to Eddie’s and they shared a look, which simultaneously made Eddie feel better and also terrified. He felt validated in his concern for his best friend, but also scared because – what the hell was going on that he wasn’t the only one noticing that something was up?

They couldn’t dwell on it for long as the alarm rang over their heads. Chimney groaned and dropped his sandwich down to the plate in front of him, only having been able to take a single bite. The three men rose and headed down the stairs, heading for their turnout gear and getting ready and in the rig quickly. Eddie watched as Buck settled into his seat, pulling a small pouch out of his pocket. He ripped the top off and raised it to his mouth, sucking whatever was inside it into his mouth.

“What in the hell are you eating Buck?” Hen’s voice sliced through Eddie’s thoughts.

“Oh, uh-” Buck cut himself off, glancing down at the small packet in his hand and back up at Hen, “I wasn’t hungry but this glucose gel stuff will make sure I have energy to, y’know, work.”

“Why don’t you just eat something small?” Chim piped up from beside him. “I don’t know Buck, that doesn’t seem healthy."

“Just leave it, okay?” Buck snapped, the echo of his words reverberating in the now-silent cabin. He jammed the empty packet of gel into his turnout coat pocket and then crossed his arms in front of him before turning to glare out the window. For the second time that afternoon, Chimney and Eddie exchanged a worried glance.

They reached the site of the emergency fairly quickly. Thankfully it was pretty uneventful, just a small garage fire and a homeowner with a nasty bump on his head from falling over trying to use the fire extinguisher. Buck and Eddie had the fire under control in a matter of minutes, Chim and Hen wrapping up with the patient just as they were finishing up. It was a few minutes later, as they were winding the hose back up that Eddie noticed Buck’s ragged breathing. He slowed his work and watched the other man. He was noticeably sweating and his arms were shaking as he rolled the hose he was working on. As Eddie looked closer, he realized Buck was shivering. It was a mild 60 degrees in the middle of the day, and he was cold? He dropped the hose he had stopped rolling to step toward Buck.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, trying not to draw attention to them, “Man, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

Buck’s weary eyes met Eddie’s concerned ones and he just nodded,

“yup, just really tired.” He gave a small shrug, “haven’t been sleeping the greatest recently, but I’m fine.”

“Buck-”

“Eddie.” His tone suddenly changed. It became low and dark, as if coming from somewhere deep inside his chest. His eyes were pleading yet insistent, “I said I’m fine. Please drop it.”

Everything in him told him to do the exact opposite of ‘drop it’, but he knew that he couldn’t push Buck. He couldn’t make him open up to him. So, he just gave a nod and turned back to his task, the concern and fear he already felt for his best friend dialing up a notch. He was obviously sick with something. Someone doesn’t sweat and shiver as if they’re cold (in 60-degree weather, no less) unless they’re ill, right?

By the time they were on the way back to the station Buck looked like he was dead on his feet. When they arrived, he was first off the truck, making a beeline for the showers. Eddie had half a mind to have a discussion with Bobby, but he knew Buck was sensitive to that kind of situation. Bringing Bobby into something like this could potentially push Buck even further away, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. However, he could talk to Chimney.

He found the man about thirty minutes later sitting at the table in the kitchen, finally eating his sandwich. He sat down across from him and looked around them, making sure they were relatively alone.

“Hello,” Chim spoke first, his mouth full of food.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, turning to face him, “I’m concerned about Buck.”

Chimney’s shoulders slumped, as if he was relieved to finally talk about it, “oh god, me too. Do you think he’s sick?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie stage whispered, running his hands over his face, “I tried talking to him at the last call, but he shut me down. Chim, he was sweating, but he was also shivering.”

“What? It was like, 60 degrees out.”

“I know.”

Silence fell between them for a moment before Chimney spoke again,
“have you noticed he’s lost weight?”

“Has he?” Eddie furrowed his brow, thinking back over the last few weeks, trying to recall if Buck had in fact gotten thinner. A memory came to mind where Buck had asked to borrow a t-shirt of Eddie’s after a workout because he’d forgotten to bring a spare. He’d slipped into the black LAFD-branded shirt, and where it would normally have hugged his arms and shoulders, it was almost too loose. Eddie hadn’t thought much of it at the time – maybe the shirt had gotten stretched out or something.

“Damn,” Eddie breathed out, “yeah, he has” -a pause, and then- “god, Chim, what if he’s really sick?”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us though?” Chimney had abandoned his sandwich, a testament to how scared he was for his pseudo-little brother. “I don’t understand why he’d hide it.”

“I mean, come on it’s his pattern, right?” Eddie offered with a shrug, “pretend like everything’s fine, don’t be too needy.”

“Sacrifice himself for everyone else,” Chimney added with a sigh, “yeah, the asshole.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, “so what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Chimney picked at his food, “I could talk to Maddie?”

Eddie nodded with a hum of approval. That was probably their best option at that point. Involving Bobby could make Buck withdraw even further, but they had to figure out something. So Chim promised to speak to Maddie when they got off that evening and Eddie told him to keep him posted before he left to find the object of their concern. He first headed for the bunks, because surely, he’d be there resting, right? He looked like he was ready to crash for a few days when they got back earlier. To Eddie’s surprise, he found the room empty. He circled back around to the main floor and looked around, finding Buck restocking the ambulance.

“What are you doing?” Buck’s head jerked up at Eddie’s voice.

“What does it look like?”

Eddie paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to say.

“I’m not trying to be a smartass, Buck,” he said carefully, “I’m just saying you seemed tired, I figured you could use some sleep.”

“Well, I don’t, so…” Buck trailed off, his back fully turned to Eddie now as he spoke. “Do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to come by tonight,” Eddie shrugged, “Chris hasn’t seen you in a while and he was asking about you.”

Buck stopped his movements at the mention of Christopher, his hands coming to rest in front of him. That’s it, Eddie thought, I got him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Buck turned now, and Eddie got a good look at his features. His eyes looked like they were sunken in, with deep, dark circles underneath. His skin was pale with a splotch of red across both cheeks, and his hair, while it was normally soft and a bit fluffy, looked like it was thinning. His lips were torn apart from what looked like picking.

“Uhm,” Eddie cleared his throat, looking down at his feet to avoid staring and making Buck uncomfortable, “yeah, just whenever we get off, you can come by. Chris will have a movie picked out, I’m sure.”

“Sounds good.” Buck actually smiled at that, and the glance Eddie got of it before he turned back around made his heart break. Because it wasn’t a normal smile. It wasn’t a patented Buck Smile that would normally make Eddie’s stomach do a little flippy thing. It was just a small grin, a baring of teeth really, that maybe wanted to be a smile but perhaps forgot how to be.

**

Buck very much did not want to go to Eddie’s.

That’s a lie. He did want to go, because he wanted to see Christopher.

What’s true is that he didn’t want to dodge all of the incessant questions about how he was doing, was he okay, does he want to eat? Because frankly, he was tired of it. If he really thought his eating disorder was getting that bad again, he would mention it to someone. But it wasn’t bad. Just annoying, really. He was managing.

So when he knocked on the door to the Diaz house (since when did he knock?) the first thing he said to Eddie was, “I’m here to see Christopher and hang out, not field questions about whether I’m okay. I said I’m fine, alright?”

Eddie inhaled sharply, tucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as if he was fighting saying what he really wanted to say, “I know, Buck.”

Satisfied, Buck entered the house and his demeanor seemed to completely shift upon seeing Christopher. He wasn’t 100% like himself, but his energy definitely changed as he picked up the 10-year-old to bring him into a big bear hug.

“Chris!” He hugged him tightly before putting him back on the ground, “I’ve missed you Bud, sorry we missed movie night last week, I wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s okay Buck!” Chris, always understanding, hugged him tightly in return. “Do you want to play some Mario Kart with me while Dad finishes dinner?”

“Sounds like a plan, Superman.” Buck followed him into the living room, his arm resting along the boy’s shoulder as they walked. He sat on the couch while Chris readied the game, smiling as he watched him move about the room with ease. He was so much more independent now, and his confidence really showed through in how he carried himself.

“Okay,” Christopher climbed onto the couch next to Buck, handing him a controller, “remember, you can be anyone except Toad. I’m always Toad.”

“Oh, how could I forget?”

As they played, Buck could smell the spaghetti that Eddie was cooking that was wafting into the living room, and he was becoming more and more worried as time wore on. How would get out of it this time? The thought of eating something like that right now, when he hadn’t prepared himself for it and when he wasn’t due for any more food (he’d already eaten his allotted 1,000 calories that day) made his heart beat wildly in his chest. If he ate that food, he would be a failure. Everything he’d been doing so well with, like sticking with his diet and exercising, would go to waste. He didn’t want to feel that crushing sadness again. That feeling like he was out of control with everything in his life. Like he was repulsive.

“Buck!” Christopher’s giggle broke through his thoughts. He looked down at the boy, who was grinning up at him. “Dad said dinner’s ready. Are you okay?”

“Yup!” Buck smiled, and he hoped it was convincing enough for the 10-year-old to believe. By the way he just shrugged and stood to grab his crutches told him it was. The Diaz’s were already seated at the table before Buck stood up, swallowing hard before walking into the room with them.

“I don’t know if I’m very hungry,” he stated quietly, rubbing a shaking hand across the back of his neck. He looked anywhere but Eddie’s face, which contorted into one of deep concern. His mouth turned down in a frown and his brows furrowed and Buck found himself staring at the floor as he awaited a response.

“Come on Buck,” Christopher spoke first, “it’s my favorite, I want you to have some with me!”

“Just a little, Buck.” Eddie’s words were achingly gentle, almost pleading. Had he not been standing in front of the two of them, Buck would have probably broke down crying at them. Instead, he gave a small nod and pulled the chair out, slinking into it with ease as he suppressed the tears that threatened to spring up. He kept his eyes downcast as Eddie served him a portion of spaghetti that almost made him laugh. It was gigantic, at least 800 or 900 calories worth. There was no way in hell he was eating all of that. To top it off, Christopher reached over and plopped a piece of garlic bread on to his plate with a, “here ya go!” Buck glanced up at him and couldn’t help but grin. He’d already taken a bite of his food, and so he had sauce smeared across his face in true messy, Christopher fashion.

“I love you, Chris,” Buck spoke softly and looked back down at his plate.

And that’s what he kept telling himself. He could survive just a little bit of food for his Diaz boys. He loved them endlessly. Both of them. He and Eddie had danced around some sort of something for a long while now, and honestly Buck just figured it was a matter of finding the right time to take that final step. He figured they had time. They’d get there. But right then, at the table, the only thing Buck could focus on was the spaghetti in front him, almost taunting him. The mound of simple carbs covered in a sugary sauce with a side of even more carbs. The only thing on the table he could consume without panic bubbling up in his throat was water, so he grabbed the bottle that had been placed at his setting and opened it. He took a long swig before placing it back on the surface in front of him, wiping the stray bit of liquid that dripped down his lip.

Damn it, he didn’t want to eat anything.

“Buck?” He looked up at Chris and saw the concern on his face that matched his dad’s, and it sent a pang of hurt through Buck’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat, “like I said, I’m not too hungry. But I’ll eat just a little bit.”

He picked up the fork beside the plate and twirled the spaghetti, getting a small portion on his fork before raising it to his mouth with a shaking hand. He was about to put it in his mouth when he noticed the silence.

“Okay, we don’t all need to watch Buck eat.” He meant to sound lighthearted, joking even, but it came out more strained and uneven. Eddie must have picked up on Buck’s anxiety, because he tapped his foot under the table, a gentle ‘I got you’, before asking Chris about some project at school. The conversation at the table now alive, and the focus decidedly not on Buck, he managed to shovel approximately four bites of the pasta into his mouth before he put the fork down. His stomach was churning, either from fullness or from stress, he wasn’t sure, but Eddie seemed satisfied that he at least ate a little bit. He told Buck and Christopher to go pick out a movie while he cleared the table, so the two made their way into the living and Buck just nodded along as Chris began cycling through options on Disney+.

It wasn’t even an hour into Monsters University that Christopher had fallen asleep against his dad’s arm at one end of the couch, his glasses crooked on his face and drool falling from his mouth. Buck was laying against the opposite arm of the couch, his legs brought up crisscross underneath him, as he stared at the TV screen. He hadn’t really been paying any attention. All he could think about was the pit in his stomach, reminding him of all the food in there that he shouldn’t have eaten. He picked at the skin around his fingernails as the thoughts bombarded him, one after the other, incessant – you fucking failure. You can’t even do this right. Too full. Too much. So much. Too full. Why did you eat so much? You’re repulsive. You think Eddie actually cares about you? You think anyone cares about you? That’s a joke. You can’t do this one thing right, and you expect people to care? Always too much. Too much. Too full. Too much.

Too much.

Too much.

Too much.

Buck suddenly jumped up from the couch, panic once again rising in his chest. Eddie’s head snapped over at him, his arm instinctively gripping Christopher a little tighter.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low.

“Y-yeah,” though Buck shook his head, “I mean, no. Yes. I mean,” he paused, exhaling, “I just have to use the bathroom.”

With that, he retreated down the hallway, slinking through the half open door before closing it gently and flipping on the light. He paced in front of the toilet, feeling sweat gather on his forehead. His stomach was still churning and it felt like its contents were trying to force their way back out of Buck’s mouth.

And that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He hadn’t made himself throw up recently. If he’s being honest, he didn’t even purge all that often when he was in midst of the worst of it. But times like right then? When the food that he’d eaten weighed heavy like a brick in his gut? The panic clawing at his throat made him desperate. So he reached over and turned on the overhead fan, turned on the tap, and sank to his knees in front of the bowl.

**

Eddie watched Buck basically run to the bathroom and he felt something tug at his heart – fear, perhaps. Concern. Worry. Whatever it was, it made his entire body clench in anxiety, so he slowly extricated himself from Christopher’s hold and stood up before leaning down to pick him up. Thankfully, he barely stirred, so he carried him to his room and tucked him in, making sure he was fully asleep before leaving the room. He crossed the hallway to the bathroom and was about to knock when he heard noises from the other side. He put an ear a bit closer to the door and over what sounded like the tap running and the whirring of the fan were the unmistakable sounds of someone retching. He rapped lightly on the wood, more as a courtesy than anything else, and turned the knob. He sighed in relief that it was unlocked and pushed the door open to reveal Buck hunched over the toilet, vomiting into the bowl.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie rushed forward, kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his back, “I got you, you’re alright.”

Buck finished throwing up and fell back on his heels, sweat, snot, and a little bit of vomit all running down his face. Eddie reached on to the counter next to him for a hand towel and began gently wiping him clean, not waiting for him to refuse.

“I got you,” he repeated his promise, “I’m here Buck.”

Buck just hummed, his eyes closed, one hand still gripping the toilet bowl and the other now holding on to Eddie’s wrist. He looked ghastly. Absolutely ragged. The face he’d seen earlier at the firehouse, the sunken eyes and the chapped lips, that was nothing compared to the figure in front of him now.

“Buck,” Eddie put the towel down and grabbed both of Buck’s hands, “Evan. Please, let me help you. Are you sick? Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Eds-” Buck shook his head, and Eddie gripped his hands tighter, rubbing gentle circles into his skin with his thumbs. The moment was impossibly intimate. Perhaps too intimate, because Buck suddenly shook his head and pulled his hands away.

“Eds,” he repeated, “I’m sorry.”

He rose to his feet, a little unsteadily, and left the room. Eddie quickly followed him out to the living room, watching as he slipped his shoes on and reached for his keys.

“Buck, please-”

“Eddie,” Buck’s crying now, the tears shining in his eyes, “I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.”

They stood there a moment, Buck’s hand on the handle of the front door and Eddie standing at the end of the hallway, staring at each other. Eddie felt like Buck was slipping through his fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing he could about it.

“I’m sorry.”

And he was gone.  

**

Buck didn’t come to work the next day. At first, Eddie thought he hadn’t been scheduled. That happens sometimes, that their shifts don’t line up with each other and they have to work with a B shift firefighter. But when he asked Bobby about it, he told him that Buck had called in, said he needed a “mental health day”. Bobby didn’t read too much into it – everyone needs those once in a while, especially when you have the kind of job they do – but it made Eddie’s heart drop. He simply nodded to his captain and turned on his heel to find Chimney. Hopefully he had some news from Maddie.

“Chim!” Eddie spotted him coming out of the locker room straightening out his uniform shirt. He looked up, his face falling as he saw Eddie’s own expression. He just nodded back behind him and the pair entered the locker room, looking around to ensure they were alone.

“What’s up?” Chimney asked him with a sigh, “I’m assuming this is about Buck not being in today?”

“Chim, it’s bad,” Eddie’s voice shook, more than he wanted it to, and Chimney definitely noticed. “He came over last night, he looked so sick. He ate like, three bites of food, and he was throwing up right after dinner.”

Chimney exhaled, falling back on to the bench. Eddie took to pacing in front of him, one arm wrapping in front of him and the other rubbing against his chin.

“Maddie hasn’t heard from him,” Chim offered, “she has no idea what’s up. I told her what we’ve noticed and now she’s convinced he has leukemia.”

“Like Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked at the ceiling, willing the lump in his throat to go back down. The thought of Buck having something like cancer was just too much right then. Way too much.

“Isn’t that something you get as a kid though?” Eddie turned to face Chimney, his arms crossed now, “I mean, Buck’s nearly 30, what 30-year-old gets leukemia?”

“A lot, according to the statistics Maddie found last night.”

“Fuck.”

**

Buck was feeling a little better. Taking the day off the day before was helpful; he was able to rest and spread out his calories throughout the day so he felt a little fuller than he normally would have if he was working. He tried to put the events at Eddie’s house out of his mind. The pained expression on Eddie’s face, the way it looked like he was aching for Buck to talk to him, to tell him what was wrong, it was just too much. He almost broke. He almost broke down right then and told him everything. But he just couldn’t. How could he? He’d spent so much time over the past couple of years just being a burden to everyone in his life, how could he drop this on them now too?

He couldn’t. So he could handle it. Maybe he’ll call Dr. Copeland and fill her in on things. He hadn’t made any of his appointments lately. The last few he’d had, he canceled, and he just kind of never scheduled new ones. He’d gotten a couple of emails and a text from her, but he always ignored them. He should give her a call.

Buck attempted to forget about it for now as he exited his jeep, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He had a 12 hour shift ahead of him and dwelling on whether or not he should call his therapist wasn’t how he wanted to start it.

“Hey.” Eddie materialized beside him, cutting around the corner of the jeep, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He seemed scared; cautious. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” came Buck’s clipped reply. He certainly didn’t have the energy for this today.

“Good.” Eddie matched pace beside him as they walked toward the station. “I just wanted to say that I’m here Buck,” he stopped him, grabbing his shoulder to turn him toward him, “whatever it is, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Buck just swallowed, giving a nod before shrugging out of Eddie’s hold and turning to enter the station. He had arrived early so he could work out before his shift actually started, so after storing his bag in his locker, he made his way to the gym and began his usual 45-minute run on the treadmill. As he ran, he realized he’d forgotten his water, which was becoming increasingly noticeable as his mouth and throat felt like they were closing up they were so dry. But he pushed on, telling himself he could have the water when he finished the run. He tried to focus on the steady beat of whatever song was playing on the workout playlist he’d chosen on Spotify and the feeling of his feet hitting the moving track beneath him. Where his arms at first were at his sides, pumping in rhythm with his legs, he then reached out and gripped the bar in front of him. He almost felt dizzy, but surely, he was just a little bit overheated. He only had another 12 minutes to go, and then he would be able to have his water.

It turned out 12 minutes is a damn long time. He watched each second tick down on the machine, begging for it to just go faster. His heart was hammering in his chest, stuttering every few beats, and he could feel the sweat gathering at his hairline begin to drip down his forehead.

Just ten more minutes.

Just a little more. You have to do it Evan. You’re worthless if you can’t just do this one thing. Can’t you do this one thing right? Why is it so hard? Why isn’t it easier for you? You’re supposed to be this “big tough fireman”, but you don’t seem so tough right now. Practically crying because you have to run for a few minutes. Pathetic.

He couldn’t shake the thoughts this time. He couldn’t stop the thudding of his heart, the clouding of his vision, or the feeling of oxygen leaving his lungs. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it anymore. The next thing he knew, the world was black.

Chapter Text

Eddie had never moved so quickly.

He had been standing by the ambulance, absentmindedly buffing circles into the side of it with a cloth, watching Buck. The way he had wormed out of his hold earlier and headed straight to work out obviously did not sit well with him, so he took up post as close by as possible to keep an eye on him. What was he trying to prove by exercising so much? That he was wasn’t ill? If so, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He had been on the treadmill for about thirty minutes now, and he was gripping the bar for dear life, his knuckles white. His breathing came out in short, ragged spurts and he looked dead on his feet. Eddie thought for sure he would stop at any moment.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Buck to suddenly crash to the ground, his body making a sickening thud as it hit the rubber track, and another one as he was sent soaring off the end. Eddie was on him in a flash, having presence of mind to grab a med bag from the ambulance before he took off. He knelt down to the ground and placed his hands on Buck – one on his shoulder and one on his hip as he slowly turned him to his back.  

“Hen!” Eddie yelled out, hoping everyone was nearby, “Chim!”

While he waited for his team to get down to them, he got to work checking Buck’s vitals, trying to ignore the way his ears and fingers were tinged blue and his face was sunken and ashen. He first pulled the stethoscope out of the med bag, putting the earpieces in and then bringing the chestpiece to each side of Buck’s chest, listening for breath sounds – they were definitely decreased, but still there.

“What happened?” Hen dropped to the other side of Buck, grabbing his wrist and feeling for his pulse. Once she found it, she turned her wrist over to see her watch. Chim, upon seeing the scene, had immediately turned back to fetch Bobby and the gurney.

“I don’t know,” Eddie answered, pulling the stethoscope around his neck and bringing the blood pressure cuff out of bag. He readied it on Buck’s arm as he spoke again, “he was on the treadmill and he collapsed, he has decreased breath sounds.”

“Shit, his pulse is thready,” Hen looked up at Eddie, her eyes wide, “he might be going into cardiac arrest.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at the thought, but his experienced and instinctive hands continued to work beneath him as he pulled the stethoscope back up to listen to his lungs again.

This time, there were no breath sounds.

“Hen,” Eddie’s quivering voice tumbled out of his mouth, the emotion in it surprising even him. He watched Buck’s chest, willing it rise, but saw no movement. “Hen, he’s not breathing.”

The rest went by in what felt like a matter of moments. Hen was pulling the AED out of the med bag when Chimney reappeared with the gurney, Bobby in tow. Eddie rattled off Buck’s status to Bobby so he could radio ahead to the hospital as he began cutting the sweaty shirt off of Buck’s body. He swore when saw his chest hair – too much for them to ignore, so he had to take the time to shave it off. He pulled the flimsy razor out of the AED kit and got to work, his movements mechanical and methodical. He tried to turn off the emotion that was tumbling around in his body at the sight of Buck lying under him, not breathing, likely in cardiac arrest – he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this man. He couldn’t even begin to approach the idea. So he swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten as he did, and pushed forward.

It was just another patient.

It wasn’t the man he loved.

Seconds later - or maybe hours later, at that point, Eddie really couldn’t be sure – the pads were secured to Buck’s chest and left side, ready to go.

“Clear,” Eddie spoke loudly, ensuring no one crowded them or touched Buck as he pressed the ‘analyze’ button on the machine. After an agonizing few seconds, the robotic voice came out of the speakers, “shock advised”. With a shuddering inhale, Eddie cleared the field again and pressed the ‘deliver shock’ button. Buck’s shoulders shrugged upward, his hands twitching a bit, before the machine gave them the all-clear. During this time, Hen had been readying an Ambu-bag to begin manual resuscitation, and when they were clear, she and Eddie began CPR with practiced efficiency.

It took two rounds of CPR and another shock from the AED for signs of life to start coming back. Buck’s chest began rising and falling; shakily at first, stuttering at each inhale, but still there. A small moan escaped from behind the mask, which Hen had now attached a non-re-breather to, and Buck raised a shaking hand to grip Eddie’s wrist.

“It’s okay,” his voice was soft, comforting, reassuring, “Evan, you’re alright, we got you.”

“S’rry,” it sounded like Buck tried to mumble, but Eddie shushed him with a shake of his head.

“It’s not your fault Evan.” Eddie pulled himself away from Buck’s grasp, feeling his skin tingle where his hand one was, and he, Chimney, and Hen lifted him on to the gurney. After a moment to situate him, they were off; Chim was pushing from the back, with Hen and Eddie at each side. The latter reached down and gripped Buck’s hand into his own and tried to ignore how cold his skin was and how his fingers felt like bones.

**

Bobby phoned in to the chief for the 121 to pick up for the 118 while they were gone – he knew there was no way in hell any one of them would be in the head space to do their jobs. Thankfully, the chief had no problems with their staying at the hospital while they awaited news on Buck, so they did just that. Bobby, Hen, Chimney, and Eddie had been ushered into a small waiting area. It was a completely internal room, with no windows to offer natural light into the dimly lit area, and the chairs the group scattered around into had wooden armrests and thin cushions that offered very little in the way of comfort. Incessant buzzing from lights above them was the only sound in the room, as the television playing the news situated in the corner of the room was muted with subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Eddie was sitting with his legs spread out, elbows on each leg, his hands clasped together and eyes staring at a speck of dirt on the floor.

Everything had happened so quickly.

They brought Buck in and he was whisked away by doctors who were shouting orders at one another. Eddie had stood, planted behind the doors that he had disappeared behind, willing Buck to be okay. The entire ambulance ride over had been tense. Bobby drove and Hen and Chim were in the back tending to Buck, with Eddie sitting near the end of the gurney. He was useless now; simply watching the two paramedics do their work of hooking Buck up to the heart monitor and attaching him to oxygen tanks instead of the non-re-breather.  Eddie had reached over and placed a heavy hand on Buck’s ankle, rubbing gentle strokes into the skin with his thumb. He wasn’t sure if he was even aware that he was present, but he didn’t let go. Not until the gurney was ripped away from him by the ER doctors the moment they exited the ambulance.

Which brought them to now: the four of them sitting in strained silence. Chim had already called Maddie, who was on her way, so all they could do was wait. As he sat, Eddie began ruminating on everything that had happened in the weeks – no, months – leading up to this. Could it really be leukemia? Could he really have cancer?

It seemed to start a few of months prior, when he stopped eating as much. His appetite was apparently non-existent, and he seemed to rely on protein shakes and that damn glucose gel shit that Eddie was certain couldn’t have tasted that good. This led to the weight loss, and before long, he had this permanent sickly look about him: Sunken eyes, chapped lips, ashen skin. Then there was that vomiting episode a few days ago at Eddie’s.

The realization hit him like a freight train.

Because that wasn’t all it was, was it? It was also the exercise. The constant need to do just a little bit more in the gym. His obsession with food despite barely eating any.

“Holy shit,” Eddie popped his head up, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. The others looked at him expectantly, eyebrows arched in concern or slightly leaning forward in their seats waiting for him to speak again,
“Buck has an eating disorder.”

“What?” Bobby spoke first, his disbelief evident in his voice, “Eddie, I don’t know…”

“No,” Eddie stood now, pacing in front of the others as he often did when he was stressed, “my sister had some problems with disordered eating when we were young. I didn’t know the full extent of it, but-” he inhaled and exhaled slowly, shaking his head before continuing, “she did a lot of the same shit that Buck does.”

“What are you talking about?” Maddie billowed into the room, her eyes red from crying and tissues clutched in her hand. “Have you heard anything?”

“No,” Chimney rose and made his way over to her, engulfing her in a hug. “But Eddie thinks Buck may have an eating disorder.”

“Eating disorder?” Maddie repeated, pulling away from Chim and looking over at Eddie, “Buck?”

“He barely eats, he’s obsessed with exercise,” he began listing, counting off on his fingers while he went, “he’s lost weight, I’m pretty sure he made himself throw up at my house a couple of days ago, and stuff like this can lead to cardiac arrest.”

No one said anything for a moment. It was like Eddie’s words made it all so crystal clear for them. It was so obvious. How could they not have seen it?

“I really hope that’s not it.” Hen was the first to speak, and it was barely above a whisper. “Because if it is, how the fuck did none of us realize he was that ill?”

“He’s really good at making people think he’s okay,” Maddie crossed the room and sat next to her, her hands in her lap, “really damn good.”

**

It was another full hour of waiting before anyone came to update them on Buck’s condition. It was an agonizing hour, filled with short-lived attempts at conversation, pacing, shuffling, and heavy sighs. For Eddie, it involved complete and utter terror. What if Buck dies? What if he dies before he can tell him how he feels? Tell him that he is his entire goddamn world and that even the thought of losing him makes him feel like he’s drowning?

After the sufferingly long hour, a short but commanding woman came striding into the room, a surgical cap in her hands that looked like it had just been taken off her head. Every person in the room, which now included Athena and Albert, rose when she entered.

“Evan is stable. It appears that he did suffer from cardiac arrest,” she began, eliciting a quiet sob from Maddie, who hung on to Chim as if her life depended on it, “he is severely deficient in potassium, which is what caused the event.”

“Damn it,” Eddie laced his fingers behind his head and turned, feeling anger and frustration rise in his chest, mostly at himself. He really hadn’t wanted to be right.

“There is evidence of malnutrition,” the doctor continued, “Evan is also deficient in sodium and chloride, as well as many essential vitamins.”

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie looked up at the ceiling, as if willing the tears back into her eyes, before looking back at the doctor, “anything else? How is he?”

“His white cell count is rather low, meaning his immune system isn’t functioning properly,” the doctor replied. She looked like she wanted to say more, but hesitated, looking at everyone in the room.

“Is there something else?” The question tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re all his family.”

“Yes, well,” she nodded, “there is evidence of purging behaviors. He has what is called Russell’s Sign on his hands, indicating self-induced vomiting, as well as the beginnings of acid erosion on some of his teeth.”

The silence that followed was anything but quiet – Eddie felt his heart breaking into a thousand pieces, and about a million thoughts ran through his head; why didn’t I know? Why didn’t he tell us? How could he be breaking down so badly and not a single one of us realized it?

“Does he have a history of eating disorders?” The doctor spoke softly, her hand resting gently on Maddie’s arm.

“Not that I know of,” she shook her head, “I mean, he’s my baby brother, but I left home when he was maybe 13? It’s hard telling what happened after that.”

The knowledge of the Buckley parents and their treatment of Buck weighed heavily on them then; if Buck did have an eating disorder as a child, did they even know? Of course, it’s horrible that none of them realized that Buck was sick now, but he’s had years of practicing how to act like he’s okay. A thirteen-year-old kid though? If he was sick, his parents would have had to know, right?

“He hasn’t been eating very much recently,” Chimney spoke up now, “and he’s been pretty obsessed with exercising.”

“And I’m pretty sure he induced vomiting a couple of days ago,” Eddie added, swallowing hard at the memory, “after we ate.”

“Well,” the doctor nodded at them again, “Evan is in the ICU as we monitor his heart and electrolyte levels. After that, he’ll be transferred to the psychiatric unit for follow-up.”

She turned to leave, but Maddie shot a hand out and grabbed on to her arm, “wait! Can we see him?”

“Of course,” she smiled softly, “but unfortunately, we only allow two at a time in the ICU.”

Maddie, the over-involved big sister that she was, immediately pointed at Eddie and motioned for him to follow her. He didn’t hesitate, crossing the room in three strides to follow her out the door and ignoring the knowing glances of his co-workers. They left the room and went down the hallway to an elevator that took them up to the ICU. As they stepped out, the atmosphere noticeably changed from downstairs. Where the main floor was a bustle of activity, the ICU floor was subdued and quiet. The only noises Eddie could hear were the soft voices of the nurses at the desk and the contrastive cacophony of beeps coming from the rooms and from behind the nurse’s desk.

“Right this way,” the doctor led them just a few feet down the hallway to the second room on the right. The small whiteboard beside the entryway read: Buckley, Evan – masks required – eating disorder, discuss food with DR.

“Because of his immune system, masks are required,” the doctor stopped just before the door and reached for masks from the dispenser on the wall and handed one to each of them, “takes you back, huh?” Eddie snorted in reply as he took it and pulled it on. That was an understatement. It felt like they had only just now been able to stop wearing the damn things.

“He was awake the last time I was here,” she continued, “but he may be in and out.”

Eddie and Maddie just nodded and entered the room slowly, unsure of what they would be faced with. What they saw was nothing like what either could have expected.

Buck was lying on the bed, slightly inclined, with what looked like at least three blankets layered over him. His skin was deathly pale and he was sporting not one but two IVs, as well as a heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and pulse oximeter. Despite his tall, muscular frame, he looked so tiny, so frail, underneath all the wires and the blankets.

“Evan,” Maddie breathed out, her voice shaking. She stepped up to his bedside and grabbed Buck’s hand. “Evan, I’m so sorry.”

He stirred at that, his eyes blinking open for a moment before screwing shut again.

“My name is Dr. Leslie Owens,” Eddie turned back to the doctor, who was still in the doorway, and nodded, “let me know if you all need anything else.”

He turned back around and made his way over to the other side of the bed. Pretenses be damned, he picked up Buck’s other hand and gripped it in both of his and just stared down at his pained face.

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft, impossibly so. If Eddie hadn’t been looking at him, he may not have realized he’d said anything. He shared a shocked look with Maddie before looking back down at Buck.

“Why?” He choked out, emotion overtaking him. His throat was tight and tears built in his eyes, and he could hear that Maddie wasn’t fairing any better across the bed. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Buck opened his eyes now, looking at Maddie first, then Eddie. He looked positively grief-stricken – tears pooled in his eyes and slipped down his temples, worry-lines creased his forehead, and he somehow looked more fragile than he had when they’d first walked in.

“This was my fault,” he whispered, “I’m weak. I caused this.”

“Evan,” Maddie pulled her hand out of his and placed both on Buck’s face, gently wiping his tears away with her thumbs. She spoke softly, comfortingly, “you’re sick. You can’t help that. You are not weak. You’re so strong.”

Buck shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. Eddie just squeezed his hand tighter, not trusting himself to say anything without breaking down. The reality of how close they’d come to losing him has begun to hit him and he’s not really sure how to handle it. Beside Chris, Buck was everything to him. He had fallen so effortlessly into his life, so easily, that he didn’t even realize he was falling in love until he’d already fallen.

“I didn’t think I’d gotten that bad,” Buck spoke again, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts, “I’ve been in treatment before… Before I came to Los Angeles. It was bad. But not this bad.”

“Evan,” Eddie spoke evenly, trying to keep his emotions in check, “how long have you been dealing with this?”

“I don’t know.” He looked down, away from them. “I guess I was like, 13 or 14 when it first started. It got really bad around 23 and I passed out while I was working, went into treatment,” he paused, inhaling shakily before continuing, “I was completely in recovery until…” He stopped with a shake of his head, and it was like a lightbulb when on over Maddie’s head as she made the connection.

“Mom and Dad.”

Buck just nodded numbly.

“I didn’t realize it would affect me that bad,” he shrugged, “but I guess it did. Before I even realized it, I was right back in the middle of it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maddie shook her head, “if I hadn’t have invited them-“

“No,” Buck cut her off, “no, please don’t. You couldn’t have known.”

“Still.” Maddie looked away then, biting her lip as fresh tears fell. Her eyes met Eddie’s, who looked equally as guilty. They knew how the other felt; even if it wasn’t Maddie’s fault for inviting her parents, none of them had noticed Buck was sick. None of them had noticed he was suffering. And it almost cost him his life.

**

Four days later, Buck was transferred from the ICU into the psychiatric unit.  His heart would still be monitored, but he would be under strict psychiatric observation and on a diet plan that would ensure he replenished all the nutrients he was missing. On top of everything, he would be receiving counseling 3 times a week. Dr. Copeland had been notified of his hospitalization and had agreed to provide him with the required therapy sessions, for which Buck was eternally thankful. The thought of building rapport with a new therapist on top of everything else would have been too much.

“Hello Mr. Buckley!” The cheery aide – who Buck had learned that morning was named Jordan- entered his room carrying a tray in their hands. “I’m here with your lunch for today.”

“Fantastic,” Buck deadpanned, his head falling back on his pillow. “Just what I wanted.”

They had begun real food that morning, Buck having received nutrition through a nasogastric tube previously. Eating was a chore, to say the least. Even if Maddie or Eddie were around, the doctor had told him that a member of staff will always be there to supervise his eating. He only had 30 minutes to eat at least three quarters of his meal, and he had 15 minutes to finish snacks. On top of all of that, he wasn’t allowed to go to the bathroom for two hours after eating to ensure he wouldn’t purge.

Yeah, they had a lot of rules there in the psych ward.

“Also,” Buck looked back up at Jordan as they sat the tray down on the table in front him, “I told you this morning to call me Buck.”

“All right Buck,” Jordan chuckled as they emphasized the name, “how are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Extremely anxious.” No sense in lying. He was there to get better. “I don’t want to eat this food.”

“I know,” Jordan sighed as they crossed the room to sit in the chair beside the bed, “what can I do to make it easier for you?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Buck sighed too, looking down at the tray in front of him. He was at least a little bit thankful that Maddie and everyone else had to return to work today. The beginning of treatment was the hardest, and he was happy they wouldn’t have to see him struggle this much (though both Maddie and Eddie had promised to come that evening, so they’d be there for dinner at least).

“What kind of sandwich is this?” Buck picked at the bread, pulling up the corner to peek under it.

“Ham and swiss I believe,” Jordan replied, “and some sort of special mayo that’s supposed to give it more flavor.”

Buck side-eyed them, letting the bread gently plop back down.

“Yeah, I know.”

Despite the lack-luster meal, that also included a cup of strawberry yogurt and steamed broccoli, Buck managed to eat all of it. He dropped the spoon on to the plate and pushed the tray away, the panic coursing through him. It felt like the food was stuck in his throat and his breath couldn’t get around it.

“Hey there Buck,” Jordan’s voice seemed like it was far away. “I know it feels like things are really hard right now, but can you focus on my words?”

Buck tried to shake his head, but he wasn’t sure if he was successful. He kicked the covers off his body and gripped the sheets under him, the familiar wave of hot terror rippling through him. The voices were there, reminding him how pathetic he was and how weak he was for giving in. Of course, consciously he knew that he hadn’t given in, he’d chosen to eat that food. He’d chosen to get better. He could leave the hospital whenever he wanted, he wasn’t forced to stay there. But in the moment of panic, nearly identical to the one he faced that morning after breakfast, he didn’t think about all that. All he could think about was the number of calories sitting in his stomach and how utterly weak they made him feel.

“Buck,” Jordan tried again, their voice a little louder this time as they put their hand in Buck’s, “can you squeeze my hand?”

It was hard, but he managed to squeeze his fingers around Jordan’s. The feeling of the other person’s skin again his own helped bring him out of his head a little bit, and the panic feeling slowly started to slip away. What was once ragged breaths that didn’t feel like they made it past his throat became shaky inhalations filling his already weak lungs.

“I’m sorry,” Buck choked out, his eyes screwed shut tightly as he kept his death grip on Jordan’s hand.

“You have nothing to apologize for Buck.” Jordan assured him, returning the tight grip to slowly bring Buck back down to earth. “We’re here to help you. I’m right here.”

The room went quiet then, save for Buck’s shuddering breaths, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt like it was possible to get better.

**

Three ‘o clock brought Dr. Copeland to Buck’s room. He was sitting up in bed, legs crisscross under him, as he poked at the jello in front of him with a spoon. It was his second required snack time of the day and he was not a fan.

“Look, Jordan,” Buck sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you, I just don’t like jello.”

Dr. Copeland entered the room and smiled at him, “are you giving this fine employee here a hard time Buck?”

Jordan laughed and Buck smirked at them both, but there was no heat behind it.

“No,” he looked back down at the green jiggling substance with a grimace, his mouth turning down into a frown, “I just really hate jello.”

“Okay, how’s this?” Jordan reached over and took the tray from him, “you have your session, and I’ll find out from your dietician about getting you a substitute snack.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Buck beamed up at them and Jordan could only grin and shake their head before leaving the room. Dr. Copeland watched, waiting for the door to click shut, before turning to face him again.

“How’re you feeling Buck?”

He rested his forearms on his legs in front of him, his back hunched a bit as he stared at the blanket draped over his body. He bore holes in the pattern of the cotton, a sudden and intense feeling of shame washing over him.

“I’ve been better Doc,” he whispered, picking at the skin around his fingernails on his left hand. Dr. Copeland didn’t say anything for a few moments as she pulled the seat a bit closer to the bed and sat down.

“First things first,” she began, “you have nothing to be ashamed of. I want to make sure you know that.”

Buck laughed at that, “you’re a pretty good therapist.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“That’s fair.” Buck shook his head. “I know that. I know shouldn’t feel ashamed. But I do.”

“What do you feel ashamed about?”

Buck mulled on the question for a minute. What did he feel ashamed about? The ED side of his brain told him he was weak for not being able to keep up his disordered eating behaviors, the emotional side of his brain told him he was weak for having an eating disorder in the first place, and the logical side of his brain told him it’s an illness like any other illness and he shouldn’t feel shame for it. Too bad that logical side didn’t come out very often.

He also hated for other people to see him in pain or needy. If he was too needy, people may leave him, and he can’t handle that. He couldn’t handle being a burden on those he loved no matter how much that illusive logical side of his brain told him they loved him, and they’d always be there for him.

“I guess that I’m here,” Buck began slowly, “that it got this far. That my friends and my family saw me like this.”

“Would any of them judge you for being here?”

“No,” Buck shook his head, his reply decisive and confident, “I know they wouldn’t. I don’t know, I don’t like being needy. Being weak.”

“You feel like you’re weak?” Dr. Copeland, as always, kept her most professional therapist face on. Buck wondered what she thought of him in that moment. If she was silently judging him, or maybe she pitied him. Oh god, somehow that felt worse.

“Most of me does,” Buck answered, finally looking up to meet her gaze, “I know, logically, that plenty of people have mental health disorders like mine. But most of me just feels stupid for letting this happen.”

“If Eddie were in your shoes,” Dr. Copeland began, and Buck sighed. She liked to use this technique with him sometimes and sure, it worked, but damn he hated it, “would you think he’s weak? That he was stupid?”

“Of course not. It’s not his fault.”

“It’s not your fault either, Buck.” Dr. Copeland smiled softly, looking past him out the window a moment before returning her gaze to him. “I don’t share my personal life with clients very often, but I’d like to share something with you.”

Buck locked eyes with her now, his curiosity piqued. Over the last ten or so months he’d been seeing her, he was pretty sure the only thing he knew about her was that she was married.

“My daughter had an eating disorder, the same as yours actually – anorexia nervosa purging type,” she shook her head, her hands clasped firmly in her lap, “she was ill for a very long time, in and out of treatment. She ended up passing about six years ago.”

“I’m sor-”

“No.” She held up her hand to stop him, the same soft smile from before returning to her face. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that the very last thing your friends and family think right now is that you’re weak.”

Buck blew out a breath and laid back against the bed. Dr. Copeland wouldn’t have told such a personal story if it didn’t really mean something to her; if she wasn’t really trying to get her point across.

“So,” she spoke again, “can you tell me how all of this started?”

“Well,” Buck laughed wryly, rubbing a hand across his forehead with a sigh, “it’s a really long story.”

Dr. Copeland situated in her seat, crossing her legs in front of her and leaning toward him, “well, go on then. I’ve got the time.”

**

By week three, Buck was easily able to eat his meals and snacks without panic attacks. The medication helped, of course, but his consistent hard work in thrice weekly individual therapy, once weekly group therapy, and daily journaling and meditation are what really did it for him. Eddie couldn’t be prouder of him and everything he’s done. Everything he’s gone through. He couldn’t imagine how hard everything must be for him, being stuck in the hospital every day, being watched like a hawk with everything you eat and say and do being monitored and recorded. He wasn’t even allowed to have his phone because of the risk of calorie counting and food tracking. But he knew it’s what was going to help him get healthy again and come back to the team.

God, he’s missed him. Sure, he’d spent almost every free moment he had in that room with him, keeping watch and keeping him company, but him not being there on the job was hell. Having to work side-by-side with a B-shifter and being completely out of sync instead of having Buck by his side? Yeah, he’d give anything to have that back.

He had just gotten off one of the said shifts from hell a few hours earlier, managing a short nap before heading to the hospital to be with Buck. He knew Maddie had been up with Jee the night before and had barely made it to work on time this morning, so she hadn’t been able to stop in and visit (he knew this because she made it a point to text him this that morning, with multiple follow up texts before Eddie confirmed that he would be going to see Buck around noon). When he entered the small ED corridor of the psych floor, he spotted Buck’s aide, Jordan, standing with his back to the cracked bathroom door beside Buck’s room.

“Hey Jordan,” Eddie approached and came to a slow stop as he noticed Buck’s voice wafting from the other side of the door.

“Another interesting fact is that tornadoes can actually be transparent,” his voice lulled as he inhaled, “they only become visible when they pick up things like dust and debris.”

Ah. It was bathroom time. All eating disorder patients, regardless of purging behaviors, had to have supervision whenever they went to the bathroom. They had to either talk or sing the entire time they were using the toilet so their aide could be sure they weren’t purging. Buck told Eddie about this a couple of weeks earlier, and about all the different songs and facts he had learned to use during his first time in treatment.

“I’m done.” Buck swung the door open for Jordan to come in before turning to the sink to wash his hands. Another necessary task – checking the toilet for any signs of laxative use or purging that was somehow missed.

“All clean Mr. Buckley.” Jordan reached over and flushed the toilet and came to stand behind Buck as he dried his hands, who turned to face them.

“Why do you only call me Mr. Buckley in the bathroom?”

“It feels rather formal in here,” Jordan laughed, “formal titles feel necessary.”

“Well fine Mx…” Buck stopped short, squinting his eyes at the shorter person in front of him. “This isn’t fair, I don’t know your last name.”

“And you never will.” Jordan grinned and stepped forward to begin washing their hands.

“Fuck you,” Buck shot back, but he grinned and gave a weak shove to Jordan’s shoulder before turning to exit the bathroom. That was when he finally spotted Eddie.

“Eds!” His face lit up in a smile, as if he hadn’t just seen the man two days prior. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile in return, wrapping an arm around Buck’s shoulder as the two made their way into his room. Buck took up residence in one of the chairs, pulling the table toward him. A notebook was open on it, a pen resting inside. Eddie joined him in the chair beside him and propped his feet up on the bed in front of them. This had become a regular thing for the two of them – sitting together while Buck journaled, or watching TV together, or simply talking. Eddie had come to love these days, despite the circumstance for their occurrence. He had somehow grown even closer to Buck in the last few weeks, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to refrain from tell him everything. All his messy, twisted up feelings about how much he loved him and how much he wanted to be with him regardless of either of their traumas and their mistakes and their parents. He wasn’t really sure what was stopping him at this point, to be honest. In the beginning, he told himself it was because Buck was still so ill, so frail. But he was almost done with treatment now. He would be going home in just a matter of days and would only require twice-weekly therapy for a month before he could go back down to once weekly. He had steadily been gaining weight and his nutrient deficiencies had all been corrected. He was almost as healthy as he had been before all this started.

So really, the only thing stopping him was fear. Fear that Buck didn’t feel the same way. But he had to, right? The signs were all there. Eddie had already spent countless hours mulling over this and had even spilled his feelings to Maddie, who very lovingly slapped him upside the head and told him to stop being stupid and just tell him. So maybe he should.

“Buck,” Eddie blurted out, feeling ice run through his veins as he realized what he was about to say. What he had had no intention of saying and had prepared nothing for.

“Hm?” Buck didn’t look up from the paper in front of him, oblivious to the crisis happening beside him.

“I’m-” Eddie choked, cutting himself off before trying again, “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s writing stopped, his pen frozen mid-stroke, and he slowly turned his head toward his best friend.

“What?”

Eddie inhaled shakily and scooted to the edge of his seat to lean closer to Buck, “when I thought we’d lost you, I was devastated Evan. I wasn’t sure what I would do if you...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t even stand the thought, the possibility, of life without him. He cleared his throat before continuing, “I realized a long time ago I was in love with you and all of this has made me realize that I’m only hurting both of us by keeping it a secret, so… There. Now you know.”

“Eddie,” Buck started, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile, “Eds, are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Eddie scoffed and risked reaching out for Buck’s hand. He took it in his own and laced their fingers together, singing the hallelujah chorus in his head when the other man didn’t pull away.

“I have been waiting for you to say that,” Buck whispered, bringing his free hand up to rest on Eddie’s knee, “for a very long time.”

“Fuck,” Eddie let out a watery laugh, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long Evan.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Eddie smiled as he stood. He kept his hold on Buck’s hand as he looked down at the man. The beautiful man that had worked his way into his life and found a home there. The man who had saved him in so many ways. The man he loved. He leaned over, fingers under Buck’s chin to tilt his head up, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. It was impossibly soft, but it sent shivers down Eddie’s spine. It was everything he could have imagined, but nothing he could have prepared for, and all of the other cliches about first kisses that Eddie didn't really care about right then. All he knew was that it was perfect in every possible way and for the first time since Buck had entered the damned hospital, Eddie felt hope.