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It starts small.
The night of his breakdown, Buck sees one of his worst nightmares. The weariness of his breakdown messes with his head, stirs his emotions.
He wakes up screaming— his wailful cries almost waking up the whole neighbourhood, his body convulsing with fear and panic, Buck can't remember where he was for almost a whole minute.
But this time, he lets Eddie hold him.
He lets Eddie hold him in his arms, rubbing soft circles on his back, whispering in his ear, telling him that he is here and he won't let anyone hurt him ever again while he cries and cries into Eddie's chest, clenching him like Eddie is his savior. Maybe he is.
In Eddie's arms— surrounded, away from the world, Buck sleeps for sixteen hours straight.
Buck wakes up to a hand playing with his curls, twirling the short strands and massaging his head. He peeks his eyes open to see the hand belonging to Chris— sitting on the bed next to them, watching Buck sleep. He feels warm, a firm body presses against his back as comforting arms enfold him and rest their hands on Buck's chest, feeling his heartbeat.
He is surrounded by his favorite boys.
"Good afternoon, Buck." Chris smiles at him.
"Hey, Chris." His voice is strained and low, shredded from yesterday.
"How are you feeling?" Eddie asks him quietly, his soft breaths tickle Buck's ears— his silky voice caressing his soul.
"A little tired." Buck whispers. He feels a little tired, his head fuzzy and his limbs weak. But he feels, relieved. Like a huge weight has been shifted from his shoulders. And for the first time in two months, Buck feels like he can breathe.
"You can sleep more if you want." Eddie's soft lips brush the nape of his neck, planting a soft kiss.
It sounds inviting: drifting off to sleep safe and sound while his family watches him over— protects him.
So he does.
He starts going to therapy. Buck sees Dr.Copeland twice a week.
It's hard, sometimes. Sometimes when he leaves the session, he doesn't even have it in him to lift a finger. It's draining, it's triggering, but it's needed.
And no matter how brutal his sessions go, Eddie is always there—waiting for him at home, sometimes watching him silently from afar to give him a room to breathe, sometimes sitting with him without talking, letting Buck process, sometimes hugging him so tight that Buck feels Eddie and Eddie only.
Eddie always asks him before he touches Buck. Always. Whether it's verbal, a light touch or open arms waiting for him to fall. He always asks.
At the end of one month, Buck returns to work. They throw him a party and surprise him with a big chocolate cake, he feels at home, where he belongs.
Buck asks Eddie to go to his loft with him. He hasn't been there since his kidnapping. They let themselves in, clear up the place. Not once, Eddie leaves his side.
That night Buck wakes up crying, only to be held by Eddie.
His scars fade, the purples under his eyes disappear, his skin doesn't look ghost white anymore. He feels healthy. He feels alive.
He cracks his first joke— of course, to roast Eddie. Eddie ends up crying and kissing him gently.
By the end of the second month, Eddie asks Buck to move in. Buck says yes.
It's a slow process. Painfully slow, with ups and downs. But finally, Buck sees the end of the tunnel.