Work Text:
Evan Buckley had lived in a beige world for most of his life. Although he had never been formally diagnosed - only by a school therapist after one too many outbursts - he was fairly sure it was due to depression. His parents had been even more disappointed with him than usual, but even that hadn’t made much of an impression on him.
Medication hadn’t helped.
Trying (and failing) college hadn’t helped.
Living (and driving) fast and loose hadn’t helped.
He’d traveled south in an effort to find himself, find happiness in some way, shape or form.
He’d hoped that being surrounded by ocean blues, the varying greens of the jungle… Meeting new, exciting people and experiencing other cultures and foods he’d only dreamed of… He’d hoped that it would ignite something within him.
When it hadn’t, he’d almost given up trying. He’d settled into his bartending gig at night, mornings spent surfing on the waves. And then… he’d been invited back; a stranger at the bar giving him a way back, should he want it.
Evan was 23 when he stepped foot in the United States again. He wasn’t alone, as he had been when he went south on a sojourn to find himself. Instead, he was surrounded by friends he had made in Peru, a group of young men out to have one last really good time before they settled down to their ‘real life.’
(In truth, they were really just glorified frat boys who had money to burn and family to help push them through the beginnings of their careers, so it didn’t matter how much they screwed around. Not that Evan minded much; the short time they had been around each other, they’d been a blast to be around - and willing to pay for his ticket back to the US.
He hadn’t wanted to be indebted to them, but knew that it would take ages to make the money with his bartending gig. They’d been decent guys, though, and hadn’t batted an eyelash when he’d reluctantly taken them up on their unsolicited offer.)
Evan was going to be staying with them, as well; Brad Something-Or-Other’s family business was in real estate and he’d selected a property that they were all crashing in. He’d apologized that it wasn’t much, but Evan had been on his own for most of his life - and financially for 5 years - and knew that the struggle was real. He wasn’t going to turn his nose up at accommodations that were essentially free (the paltry sum Brad had asked for wouldn’t even tax what little savings he had) in Los Angeles, one of the most expensive cities in the country.
Patting his pockets and thankfully finding the information for the long term storage he’d placed the jeep - and most of his worldly belongings - in before crossing the border into Mexico, Evan hoped that he’d be able to catch a ride to the facility somehow.
An extremely long day with multiple bus transfers and he was in Imperial Bay, just north of the Mexican border. He picked up his beloved jeep, a gift from the last time he’d seen his sister, and swung by a tourist trap for a postcard. He scrawled a simple ‘Back in the US!’ on the back and posted it to her, not bothering to leave a return address this once.
She’d never responded before. This once wouldn’t hurt.
Even with stops by the beach, dipping his toes in the sand and the water - and flirting with a truly gorgeous bikini-clad volleyball player - the trip back to LA went much faster. He pulled up well into the night and parked in the full driveway. He left everything in the car - he hadn’t missed it while he was gone and one more night wouldn’t kill him - and made his way inside, eventually dropping onto the futon in the small room that had been designated his own.
The next day began the rest of his life: the cheap phone he had still had internet capabilities and he immediately started researching the fire department and how to apply. The LAFD was supposedly one of the best in the country, a fact which made nerves twist in his belly. Thankfully, most of the requirements were easily met and he set up a candidate assessment for the earliest possible date.
He passed with flying colors and was soon invited to the fire academy.
The first day Evan Buckley stood in his class, weighed down by the heavy first responder uniform, bright, reflective stripes almost glowing in the California sun…
Evan saw possibilities. For himself, his life, his future.
Here… as their instructor lit a fire in a trash barrel and began his - obviously rote - lecture…
Evan saw red and orange and yellow… Silver glinted in the sun. Ash gray smoke began to rise, the pungent scent filling the air. Even the concrete buildings were shaded differently to him.
This was it, he thought as he tightened his hands on the clipboard they’d given him for his notes.
This burst of fireworks, this kaleidoscope churning through the spectrum…
It was glorious. It was more than he’d ever imagined would be possible to see.
It was addictive, leaving him wanting, craving more more more in a way that made him quite happy he’d never experimented with any illegal substances harder than marijuana.
He’d always known he was an adrenaline junkie, but had never suspected he had such a propensity for addiction until this very moment.
(Could anyone blame him, though, for an instant addiction to something so glorious?)
Evan Buckley knew in his very bones that this was what he'd always been meant to do, what he'd spent so long searching for.
This was his future.
(One that he would apparently be going through as "Buck."
He could get used to that.
A new name for a new, colorful existence.)