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The Diaz household is quiet. Quieter than usual, that is. There’s no background noise coming from one of Christopher’s cartoons on TV, no music Eddie sometimes play in the living-room when the list of chores he still has to do around the house gets so big he’s afraid he’ll never see the end of it, no weird true crime podcasts Buck insists on listening in the kitchen while he’s cooking and while – it goes without saying – Christopher’s not there to hear the most sordid details of the story.
Nothing of the sort. The house is silent. The only things Eddie can hear is the soft flow of water, the rubbing of the sponge against the glasses he’s washing, and the sound of the plates clinking against each other as Buck places them back into the cabinet.
Just a normal Sunday afternoon, then. Except that it’s not. Not entirely, at least.
But it should be – Eddie thinks. It should be normal. And he thinks that maybe if he focuses on the dirty dishes piling up in the sink hard enough, then eventually the other things he has in mind will go away. He thinks that maybe if he stares into the distance long enough then an answer might magically appear in front of him.
But he’s wasting his time. He knows it. Because what would have been a normal Sunday afternoon a few months ago, hell maybe even a few weeks ago, is now filled with a sense of uncertainty and heaviness no-one dares to question. Not Eddie, by fear of facing questions he’s not ready to answer yet. And certainly not Buck, who’s probably wondering if there’s even room left for him in that space. In that house. Eddie hates himself for it.
But still, he waits, keeping his head down, scrubbing the plates with the sponge and passing them to Buck.
That, until his best-friend speaks these five words:
“I broke up with Taylor.”
Eddie stops scrubbing, and looks up at his best-friend with a frown. “Why? I thought you liked her.”
“I did.” Buck answers. “But she wasn’t what I wanted.” He adds. Eddie takes a sharp intake of breath. “It couldn’t have worked out.”
“Okay.” Eddie answers. He wishes he could say more, but the words just don’t come out. And that’s not even the worst part. No. The worst part is hearing his best-friend sigh next to him, like he’s resigned, like he’s giving up on him.
Eddie lets out a shaky breath and scrubs the plate harder, in the hope that it stops his hands from trembling. And for a few minutes, it works. Eddie stays focused on the task at hand and Buck puts the dishes away, knowing his way through the kitchen like it’s his own. Eddie tries not to think about that for too long.
“You know I used to think we were going somewhere, you and I.”
And this is too much. The implication. The consequences this conversation could have, Eddie’s not ready to deal with them. He’s not sure he ever will be. But this is Buck we’re talking about and he’s been waiting for so long, too long. Eddie closes his eyes, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.
He wants to ask – no, beg – Buck to not go there, but how can he? He’s got no right to ask him to stay silent, again. Not after all this time. Not after the shooting. Not after everything that happened in between.
Buck deserves someone who can give him a straight answer, he deserves someone who’s not scared shitless of intimacy and Eddie wants. He wants . But it’s like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff with his feet hanging over and he can’t jump. He can’t jump.
“I thought-” Buck adds but lets out a small laugh, looking down at his hands. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”
It does – Eddie thinks. It fucking does .
“Buck.” He says instead and that’s enough to leave him breathless.
“I know.” His best-friend says, his voice low, like he’s defeated. Eddie hates it. “I know.” He repeats.
“I just-” Eddie tries. He tries, but his throat is so tight he’s afraid he might choke. “I-”
His hands drops the plate in the sink and starts holding the edge of the kitchen counter so tight his knuckles go white, while his left hand grips his own tee-shirt, just above his heart. Because that’s what it’s all about in the end. His heart.
“Eddie.” Buck says, his voice soft. “Eds. We’re okay. Or we will be. I promise, alright?” He asks and Eddie just nods. He nods frantically and doesn’t trust himself to speak. “But I- It’s not something I can fake anymore.” Buck adds and there’s so much guilt in his voice, like he can’t quite believe what he says himself, like he’s a terrible friend for going there, like it’s forbidden territory. And it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.
“I can’t do it anymore.” Buck eventually adds. “I can’t pretend that loving you, loving Chris, is not the easiest thing in the world. Because it is. And lately I’ve been wanting to shout it from the rooftops.”
And Eddie can’t believe it, can’t believe the words that are coming out of his best-friend’s mouth, can’t believe a person would be willing to love him so freely, so openly. It’s too much. He’s too much.
“And I’m not saying that- I’m not saying that you’re easy. Because god damn it Eddie you’re not. You’re stubborn as hell. You never open up. You don’t know how to accept compliments and you’re pouring the milk before the cereals, which – quite frankly – might be the most insane thing you taught your son.” He says, and Eddie snorts, letting out a small laugh as a few tears roll down his cheeks.
“And sometimes all I want to do is scream at you and beg you to let me in but you’ll still always be the easiest guy to love, Eddie.” He adds. “So here.” He finishes, letting go of the dish towel. “It’s out there. And I’m- I think I’m gonna go now.”
“Evan-”
“Eddie. It’s okay.” Buck says with a soft smile. “We’re fine. I know you don’t- At least, not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Either way, it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. But I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”
Buck walks away. He leaves the kitchen, Eddie follows him like a ghost. He leans against the wall and watches him put his shoes on, slip on his coat and grab his keys still on the coffee table. And he wants to speak out. He wants to ask him to stay. He wants to tell him he’s trying, tell him he’s just not ready yet. He just doesn’t know how.
So instead, he just says:
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Buck asks with a sad smile.
For everything. For not speaking about the shooting. For not opening up. For not telling you you’re important. For not showing up. For not asking you to stay.
I’m sorry it had to be me.
I’m sorry you love me.
“I don’t know.” He says.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”
---
He doesn’t – in fact – see him the next day. Or the day after that, either.
They don’t text. They don’t talk. They only see each other at work. And even then it feels like a thousand miles separate them. They don’t work together. He stays with Hen and Buck is paired up with Ravi. After all they work well together and with Chimney gone, it only makes sense.
And Eddie can see the concerned looks the other send his way, he can hear the hushed words and quiet murmurs around him.
He catches Buck glancing at him too, when he thinks Eddie is not looking. But Eddie always does.
He just does it from afar.
“Why is Buck never around anymore?” Chris asks him one day just before his bedtime. He’s seated on his bed, a book in his hands. A book Buck bought for him a few months ago.
“He’s just- He’s just busy, mijo.” Eddie says. And his son is a lot of things but dumb isn’t one of them. He sees right through him.
“You’re lying.” Chris says. “He always says he’s never too busy for me. Never too busy for us. So something happened. Otherwise he would have been here Friday for the movie night. He’d never miss it. And if he does, he warns me first.” He adds, frowning in confusion. “What happened? I miss him.”
“It’s complicated buddy.” Eddie answers.
“It’s not. You just don’t want to talk about it. But Buck is my friend and if something happened between you two, I deserve to know what it is.” His son insists. And what can Eddie say to that? There’s nothing to say. His son’s right. “Is it why you’ve been sad? Did Buck make you sad?”
“No.” Eddie rushes himself to say. “No, I-” He marks a pause, and adds: “It’s the other way around, Chris. I made him sad. I’m sorry.” He admits, running his hand through his son’s curls.
“What did you do?”
Nothing – Eddie thinks. A lot of things .
Thankfully, his son beats him to it.
“You need to fix it.” He says, looking at him with a serious expression on his face. A pained expression, too. And Eddie’s been so far in over his head he hasn’t realized he wasn’t only hurting himself. Or Buck. He was hurting his son, too. And he can’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever.
“I will.” He nods.
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Eddie kisses him on the forehead. “I’ll fix it.”
Eddie takes the book from Christopher’s hand and places it on his bedside table, his heart fluttering in his chest as he reads the few words – in Buck’s handwriting – adorning the first page.
To Superman. Cause we can never know too much about Egyptian Pyramids.
Your dad made me promise to wait for your birthday but I was too excited for you to read it.
Hide it until then.
And don’t worry kid, you’ll get another one.
Your best-friend, Buck.
A soft smile stretches his lips and he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. He still remembers that conversation. He remembers that day. And the words they share on the couch, too distracted to follow the movie playing on TV.
“If Christopher’s your best friend, what does that make me?”
“It makes you something else.” Buck had answered.
Eddie hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. It was a harmless conversation. A harmless conversation between two friends.
But was it, really?
“Dad?” Christopher’s voice brings him back to reality. “Did Buck tell you he was in love with you?” He asks, like he’s uncertain, like he’s scared Eddie’s going to get mad. And Eddie doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start and he doesn’t know how his own son managed to outsmart him like that and see the situation for what it really is. But Chris doesn’t stop there:
“Is that why he’s not around anymore? Because you rejected him?” He asks, his voice full of accusation.
“I didn’t-” Eddie starts but marks a pause, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. But this time, he doesn’t stay quiet. This time, he pushes through the fear, pushes through the blind panic that seizes him. Because he owes it to his son to be honest. He owes it to him to open up, and not repeat his father’s mistakes, not perpetuate this old, outdated mentality. “I didn’t reject him, buddy. How do you even know he was in l-”
“He told me.” Christopher cuts him off. “A few weeks ago. On the phone.”
“You called him?” Eddie asks, incredulously.
“Yeah.” His son nods. “I missed him. He only told me because I asked him, though.” He adds. “I already knew.”
“Of course you did.” Eddie says, smiling, and shaking his head in disbelief. But he doesn’t really know why it comes as such a surprise to him. After all, his son has always been smarter than him, more observant, more attentive.
“Everyone knew, dad.” He answers, shrugging his shoulders like it’s some sort of widely accepted truth among the 118. “And now you do too.” He adds.
Now I do too – Eddie repeats to himself, quietly. Now I do too.
How come I haven’t known before?
“Are you in love with him too?” Christopher blurts out.
“I- I don’t know kiddo.” He admits.
Am I?
“I think you are.” Christopher answers, quietly. “And I think that’s why you’re sad.” He adds. “Because you don’t know it yet. Or maybe you’re just scared.” He says, shrugging his shoulders, like he doesn’t quite understand it himself. “So you pretend it isn’t there.”
“What- what makes you think I am, Chris?” Eddie asks. “In love with Buck, that is?”
“Carla once told me that people often marry their best-friend.” Christopher answers. “And you said it yourself, once. That mom was your best-friend.” He says. “But Buck’s your best-friend, now. You keep saying that. Like it can’t mean something more. But maybe it can, dad? He makes you smile. All the time. And he makes you laugh too. A lot. He’s always there for us. And you look at him the same way you used to look at mom. You don’t look at anyone that way, dad. Only him. And me. But that’s because I’m your son. And Buck – well – maybe that’s because-”
“Maybe that’s because I love him too.” Eddie finishes for his son, his eyes wide open. And he can’t believe – out of all the people surrounding him – his son is the one who makes him see reason.
“You do.” Chris smiles at him, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “We can be two at making you happy, you know? I know I do but I’m just a kid. It’s okay if you need someone else. And if that someone else is Buck, then you need to tell him.” He adds. “Now.”
“Now?”
“Now!” Chris lets out a laugh. “Before he finds someone else!”
“We can’t let that happen, right?”
“Nu-uh.” His son agrees, nodding his head. “He belongs with us. We’re his family. So you better tell him soon before it’s too late.” His son answers, letting his head fall on his pillow, his eyes closed.
A small smile stretches Eddie’s lips as he kisses his son on his forehead one last time before leaving the room quietly. He then takes his phone out of his jean’s pocket. He unlocks it and lets his thumb hovers Buck’s name. Does he still have the right to contact him at 10 in the evening? After everything he put him through? Surely, he doesn’t. He should wait. Wait until tomorrow, or maybe the day after. But the thing he’s carrying is too big. It’s too big and it’s too much and Eddie doesn’t know how Buck managed to keep something so huge to himself for all these months. All these years.
Eddie texts him anyway.
Are you busy? And it shouldn’t surprise him, really, when Buck’s answer pops up just a few seconds later.
Never for you two – it says, and Eddie would straight up lie if he’d say reading these few words does nothing to him. Because it does. It fills him with so much love he’s afraid his heart is going to burst out of his chest. And he’s aware of how he sounds. He sounds cheesy and lame and that would probably get him a thousand teasing remarks from his sisters but in that moment, he doesn’t find it in himself to care.
Are you okay? Is Chris okay?
We’re fine. Eddie texts. We just miss you.
I miss you. He adds after a few seconds. Can you come over?
I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten.
He sits on the couch and lets his eyes wander around the chaos around him. The room is a mess. Lego bricks are scattered on the carpet, some paperwork collect dust on the coffee table and a pile of laundry is still outspread on the couch, waiting to be folded. Buck doesn’t care, won’t care, Eddie knows it. He’s been there a hundredth times before and he never complained. Didn’t complain about the muffins situation after he broke up with Ana, didn’t complain about the beer spilling incident on the carpet and didn’t complain about the time the entire living-room turned into a real Lego battleground.
On the contrary. He sees it and he makes it his. And then it’s not only Eddie’s mess anymore. It’s their mess.
There’s a knock on the door. Eddie stands up but Buck’s already inside, taking his shoes off, dropping his wallet and his keys on the table like he did a thousand times before, and that’s when it hits Eddie:
“You never knock.” He says. Because it’s true. He never does. Never asks for permission. Never worries to show up unannounced. Never wonders if he’s intruding. And what’s even worse is that Eddie never asks. Never asks him to back off. Never asks him to take a step back. Never kept him far.
“Yeah I- I just figured that maybe- maybe this time was different.”
“It isn’t.” Eddie rushes to say. How can it be? How can it be when Buck is standing in front of him, bed hair, curls flying in every direction, sleepy eyes, and still dressed in his pajama like he ran into the night to get to them without taking the time to wake up first.
“Okay then.” Buck says, smiling softly at him.
“Do you want some b-”
“Buck!!” Christopher exclaims, storming in the living-room just to be welcomed by Buck’s arms lifting him up from the ground and holding him close. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too Superman but isn’t it way past your bedtime buddy?” He asks, his eyes fixed on Eddie.
“I guess I can make an amendment.” He answers with a smile. “But only because Buck is here, alright? And only fifteen minutes. No more. Deal?”
“Deal!”
Christopher guides Buck towards his room, gesturing frantically as he tells him about his day at school and the science experiment they did with that “cool new teacher”. Buck smiles widely, nodding the whole time, asking questions, and Eddie watches them as they disappear in the next room.
But Eddie’s alone in the living-room now and he doesn’t know what to do. Should he join them? Should he stay here and let them have a quiet moment? Should he say something? Or should he stay quiet? His brain is going a thousand miles an hour and he wishes he could just turn it off.
He goes in the kitchen. Stands in front of the sink and starts washing the dishes that have been piling up in the last few days. A few minutes later, Buck joins him and takes a towel. And Eddie thinks it’s funny, how all the serious talks and difficult conversations he’s had these past few months always seemed to have arisen in his kitchen. He guesses there’s something comforting, to be able to focus on a specific task while speaking these words. He doesn’t have to look at the other person in the eye, doesn’t need to wonder what to do with his hands. It gives him more time to think, to look for the right words.
“Chris is asleep?” He asks, quietly.
“Out like a light.” Buck answers. “But he did have enough energy to trap me into reading him another chapter.”
“Trap you, really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “I’m sure you were a willing participant.”
“I mean, yeah.” Buck smiles sheepishly. “How can you not be?”
“You’re aware he has you in his pocket, right? Makes me look like the bad parent.” These words escape his lips before he has the chance to stop them and Eddie’s hand grips the plate a little tighter.
“Well that’s what I’m here for.” Buck shrugs his shoulders. “I’m like the cool uncle.”
“What if I told you you could be more?” Eddie asks, and his voice is so quiet he’s afraid Buck might not have heard him. But then he can hear the sharp intake of breath coming from his best-friend’s side side and he knows the message got across, loud and clear.
“More to who, Eddie?” Buck counters, a hint of impatience in his voice. “To you or to Chris?”
“Both?” Eddie’s voice is strangled in his throat.
“Is that a question?”
“No.” Eddie rushes to say. “No.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s not a question. It’s- it’s me telling you that I’m all in. This family is yours. If you want it.” He adds, and he’s surprised to hear how steady, how determined his voice is. He glances curiously to the side, only to find a soft smile and gentle eyes already staring back at him.
“Of course I want it, Eds.” Buck answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Alright then.” Eddie smiles softly at him. “It’s yours.” He adds. “It’s always been yours. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”
“It’s alright.” Buck’s voice is as quiet as his.
“It’s not. You deserved a straight answer and I’m sorry I couldn’t g-”
“Ah” Buck starts, and his eyes light up the same way they do when he’s about to say something incredibly dumb, like he’s laughing at his own joke before it’s even there. And Eddie – Well Eddie should have seen it coming from miles away.
“Don’t say i-”
“Maybe not too straight, though.”
“God damn it, Buckley.” He rolls his eyes and the only thing he really wants is to kiss that stupid smile off his best-friend’s face. So that’s exactly what he does. He lets go of the plate he’s holding and a small nod from Buck is all he needs to rush forward and crash their lips together. He’s aware that he must be leaving a mix of water and soap and foam all over Buck’s hair but this one doesn’t seem to care.
Quite the contrary. Buck’s hands find their way on his thighs and lift him up, manhandling him until Eddie’s seated on the kitchen counter. “Oh my god.” Eddie breathes out against his lips, earning a small laugh from Buck who only kisses him harder, putting everything he has in it.
“I can’t believe I was unconscious the first time you manhandled me like that.” Eddie manages to say in between two kisses. Buck’s mouth hovers above his neck for a few seconds until he takes a step back, watching Eddie with a look of complete, utter bewilderment on his face.
“Eddie tell me you didn’t just refer to the shooting for the first time in months while we’re in the middle of making out in your kitchen?” Buck’s pupils are dilated and his hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and he’s a goddamn smoke-show and Eddie’s brain just short-circuits.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He blurts out.
“Eddie!” Buck exclaims, looking offended, but Eddie can already see his cheeks turn red. “Don’t try and compliment your way out of that conversation cause it’s not gonna work, alright? Not this time.” And as much as Eddie wants to do just that, Buck’s eyes are now full of concern and worry, and he knows he needs to address this now.
“I know.” Eddie’s face softens. “And I promise you we’re gonna talk about it. Tomorrow if you want. Just not-”
“Just not tonight?” Buck finishes for him.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” Buck answers, his hand still on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Tomorrow’s fine.” He says, his voice quieter. “You’re lucky I love you, though.” He adds, and moves his hand from his neck to his right cheek, letting his thumb skim the skin just under his right eye. Eddie gives him a warm smile and only then Buck moves forward, slowly, to press their lips together a second time. More gentle, this time.
“I love you too.” Eddie says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“We both do.” Eddie tells him, cradling his cheeks with his hands. “Until my dying breath, Buckley.”