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“So, you going to Eddie’s tonight?” Bobby’s voice was casual as he leaned against the locker room’s glass door, but Buck could feel the weight behind the question. He glanced up from his phone, catching Bobby’s gaze.
Buck nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I am.”
It wasn’t unusual—he and Eddie spent a lot of time together, especially now that they were boyfriends. But almost six months into their relationship, and it still felt like new territory.
In some ways, it was like they were learning to walk all over again, but in other ways, it felt like they’d been teetering on this edge for years.
Buck shifted a little uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know we haven’t really talked about him and I… you know, like romantically, really.” He trailed off awkwardly, unsure how to phrase it.
Buck knew Bobby wasn’t exactly one to pry into personal lives, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. Bobby had always been the one to notice the little things.
“I’m glad you both figured it out,” Bobby smiled. “Eddie’s good for you, Buck. I think you know that.”
Buck blinked, a little caught off guard by the comment. He wasn’t used to Bobby bringing up his relationship with Eddie so directly.
“Thanks, cap.”
The truth was, Eddie was good for him—steady, grounding—but there was still so much they hadn’t talked about. Things they hadn’t addressed.
Bobby must’ve sensed his hesitation because he added, “You’ve both been through a lot. It’s good to see you finding your way together.”
“Yeah,” Buck said finally, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Take care, Buck,” Bobby called after him as he headed for the door.
Buck made his way toward the station’s exit, a familiar anxiety beggining to bubble up in his chest. Six months together, but sometimes it still felt fragile—like they were still figuring out how to balance everything.
Just as he was about to leave, something—someone—caught his eye.
There, standing between the firetrucks, was a woman he hadn’t seen before. She seemed a little out of place, her stance tentative, like she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to be. From his angle, Buck couldn’t quite make out her face; her back was turned to him, and her head was slightly bowed, her gaze flickering from one side of the bay to the other as though she were searching for something—or someone.
Buck paused, frowning. Maybe she was lost, or maybe she was looking for a firefighter. But the way she moved, the uncertainty in her posture, made him feel a little uneasy.
“Hey,” he called out, stepping closer to her. “Can I help you?”
The woman turned toward him slowly, offering a polite smile. And when Buck finally saw her face, something inside him shifted.
“Hi,” the woman said. “I'm looking for Eddie Diaz?”
The name hit him like a truck, and for a moment, he just stared. She wasn’t Shannon—he knew that logically—but the resemblance was unnerving. The same wavy brown hair, the same soft eyes. It was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. Buck blinked rapidly, as if trying to shake off a bad dream.
“Sorry, this is the 118 fire station... right?” she asked, her voice pulling him back into the present.
“Uh—yeah, yes!” Buck answered too quickly, running a hand through his hair, still shaken.
“Sorry, you—uh—you said you were looking for Eddie?”
My boyfriend, he wanted to say.
“Yeah, I just brought these for him.” She held up a box of brownies, neatly wrapped in cellophane, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “He mentioned they were his favorite, so I thought I’d surprise him.”
His favorite? Eddie fucking hates brownies.
The words lodged in Buck’s throat like a stone. Who the hell was this woman? And why was she bringing Eddie brownies?
"I'm sorry who did you say you were?" his tone was a little sharper now.
“I'm Kim,” she said, still smiling as though this were a normal interaction.
“Kim,” He repeated it slowly, letting the syllable sit bitter on his tongue. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying the name out loud might somehow make sense of it.
But it didn’t. Not at all.
Kim. Eddie had never mentioned the name Kim—not once. And here Buck thought he and Eddie shared everything with each other, could trust each other with anything. Clearly he thought wrong.
A name like that shouldn’t have come out of nowhere, not when it clearly held weight. Why hadn’t Eddie told him? Buck could feel the answer lurking just out of reach, the kind of answer he didn’t want to face. He knows why, and it makes him that much angrier.
It's all starting to make sense. It had been weeks now—weeks of distance, of Eddie growing quieter, more distracted. There had been a slow shift between them, one Buck hadn’t pushed on, figuring Eddie needed space to work through whatever was going on in his head. It was a pretty common thing after all. But now. Oh now it all clicked into place, and it felt like betrayal seeping into his bones.
Kim. He hated how that name suddenly felt like it carried the weight of all the silence between him and Eddie.
"You know you actually just missed him," Buck forced out, his voice clipped. The words felt thick on his tongue, his mind swirling with questions.
How many times has Eddie met her? How long has this been going on?
Has he cheated?
Eddie wouldn’t… would he?
But the signs were there—the distance, making excuses, the late nights, the sudden silences when Buck asked about his day. The shift between them had been subtle at first, almost easy to ignore.
But now, standing here with Kim’s bright smile and that box of brownies, it was impossible to deny. Something had changed, and Buck couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed the moment Eddie had slipped away from him.
"Ah shoot, guess I should've called first."
Would calling even have mattered? Eddie clearly hadn’t been in any rush to introduce her to Buck—or even mention her name.
Buck clenched his jaw, trying to refrain himself from saying anything stupid as Kim handed him the box of brownies.
"Would you mind giving these to him for me? Just tell him they're from someone special, he'll know who."
Someone special? Oh now his blood is fucking boiling.
"Sure." he bit out, barely able to control the shaking in his hands as he accepted the box that now felt like a ticking time bomb.
Kim seemed pleased, oblivious to the tension radiating off him. “Well, it was nice meeting you...” she trailed off, waiting for his name.
"Buck."
It felt wrong, letting her say his name like it was nothing—like he was nothing.
"Oh you're Buck! Eddie's best friend, right?"
Was that what Eddie told her? Just best friends ?
Because Buck didn’t think best friends slept together, or touch each other the way he and Eddie do. Best friends don’t kiss in the quiet moments before falling asleep, don’t hold hands under the table when no one’s looking. Best friends don’t share what they share—this deep, all-consuming connection that had become the foundation of Buck’s life.
It was like twisting a knife into a wound that had been festering for weeks—secrets, lies, half-truths all bundled up in Eddie’s silence.
The word felt like it was being used as a weapon, cutting him in ways he didn’t know he could hurt.
Best friends don’t keep secrets like this. Best friends don’t let “ someone special” waltz into their lives without a word, without an explanation.
The title, once a badge of honor that Buck had proudly worn, now felt hollow. Cheap. Like a consolation prize handed out for someone who wasn’t good enough to be part of the real thing. A stand-in for whatever Eddie had been doing with Kim—someone who looked too much like Shannon for Buck’s peace of mind, someone who had apparently earned the title of special.
Best friends. Buck had thought that meant everything. Now it just felt like a cruel joke.
"Well it was nice meeting you, Buck!” Kim glanced around, her eyes sweeping the station.
“Place looks bigger than it does on FaceTime," she commented offhandedly, as if this were all perfectly normal, like she belonged here, in their space.
Buck swallowed hard, the mention of FaceTime digging deeper into the wound. Eddie had let her into their world—into his world—and had kept Buck in the dark.
"Bye!" Kim chirped cheerfully, waving as she turned and walked away, leaving Buck standing alone, the box of brownies in his hand feeling like it weighed a ton.
He didn’t even wanna go to Eddie’s anymore.
—
Buck’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood outside Eddie’s front door, his fingers tight around the key in his pocket. The key Eddie had given him long before they were together.
Back then, it had felt like an invitation to something more, even if they hadn’t put it into words yet. It had been a simple gesture, but one that carried so much weight—more than Eddie had probably realized.
The key slid into the lock with a soft click , and Buck pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make too much noise. The house was quiet, save for the distant sound of running water coming from the kitchen. Eddie was home. Of course, he was. This was supposed to be their night.
Buck hesitated in the doorway, staring down at the box of brownies in his hand, feeling like it might explode any second. His grip tightened around the edge of the cellophane as he toed off his shoes and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his ears.
He walked down the hallway, every step echoing louder in his head. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe there was an explanation.
Eddie wouldn’t just—would he?
But the questions swirled, each one growing louder, each one pulling him further into that pit of uncertainty he really didn’t want to face.
He should’ve just gone home. No, this is home. He means back to the loft.
When he reached the kitchen doorway, Buck froze.
There was Eddie, standing at the sink, rinsing a glass under the stream of water. His back was to Buck, his posture relaxed, like nothing was wrong. Like everything was perfectly normal. Buck’s stomach churned. He almost didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to shatter whatever illusion Eddie was living in right now.
But then Eddie turned, and his gaze caught on Buck standing there in the doorway, holding the box of brownies like a fragile offering.
“Hey,” Eddie greeted, his voice soft and casual, but there was some surprise in his eyes. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Yeah, well...” Buck’s voice was tight, his words clipped. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral, but the tension coiled in his chest was becoming harder to ignore.
Eddie took a step forward, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied Buck’s face. There was something in Buck’s voice, something off.
He leaned in and closed the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s lips—a familiar, welcome home kiss. It was something they did when they hadn’t seen each other all day, a quiet greeting, a grounding gesture. But tonight, it felt so different.
“Everything okay?”
Buck stared at him, feeling the words stick in his throat. Nothing was okay. Not after today. Not after Kim. But he wasn’t ready to let it all spill out. Not yet. Instead, he lifted the brownies between them, the movement sharp and deliberate.
“These are for you,” his voice was laced with something dark, something bitter.
Eddie blinked, glancing down at the box, confusion washing over his features. “What?”
“Kim dropped them off at the station,” Buck replied, his tone now edged with accusation.
He watched Eddie’s reaction closely, searching for any sign, any crack in the calm facade he was holding up.
Eddie froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was uncomfortable. Buck’s heart sank.
There it was—that shift, that silence, the thing he’d been dreading.
“Oh,” Eddie finally said, his voice quieter now, but he didn’t offer any more explanation. He didn’t even look at Buck.
Oh? That was it?
Buck’s patience snapped. “Oh? That’s all you’ve got?” he demanded, his voice rising as the frustration, the hurt, finally broke free.
He slammed the box of brownies on the counter with a loud thud , the cellophane crinkling under his hand.
“Who's Kim?”
Eddie didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. He stood there, blinking once, twice, as if the question itself had knocked him off balance.
“Kim,” he repeated, voice rising. “Who the hell is Kim, Eddie? And why is she showing up at the firehouse, bringing you brownies, acting like—like you’re her boyfriend?”
Eddie’s face paled, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. “I'm not her boyfriend, Buck. I'm your boyfriend. It’s not—”
“Not what?” Buck interrupted, anger loud and clear. “Not what it looks like? Because it sure as hell looks like you’ve been sneaking around behind my back with a woman who looks exactly like your dead wife!”
The words cut through the room like a knife, sharp and cold. Eddie visibly flinched, and for a second, guilt flashed in his eyes. Buck felt his stomach churn. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t meant to throw Shannon in Eddie’s face like a weapon, but the pain and the confusion had been building the whole drive over, and now it was like a dam had broken.
Eddie’s jaw clenched, and he shifted on his feet, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Kim’s just—a friend,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.
“Right,” Buck scoffed. “A friend who’s a dead ringer for your late wife.”
Eddie’s shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand over his face, frustration mixing with something else—regret, maybe? But Buck wasn’t done.
“You know what’s funny?” his voice trembled, but it wasn’t funny at all. “She called me your best friend. Is that what you told her? That I’m just your best friend?”
Eddie looked up, his eyes wide with panic now, but still, he didn’t say anything. Buck felt like his chest was about to cave in.
“You don’t let your best friend share your bed, Eddie. You don’t let your best friend hold your hand when no one’s looking. You don’t kiss your best friend goodnight every damn night. You don’t—” Buck’s voice cracked. “You don’t keep secrets from someone you love.”
Eddie’s eyes softened, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the tidal wave of emotion crashing through Buck. “I didn’t—Buck, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Then why did it happen?” Buck’s voice broke, raw and full of pain. “You’ve been shutting me out for weeks. You’ve been distant, avoiding me. And now I find out you’ve been with her. What am I supposed to think, Eddie? What am I supposed to feel?”
His voice cracked again on the last word, and suddenly, Buck felt something wet run down his cheek. He blinked, confused for a second, until he realized—it was a tear. He was crying. He hadn’t even noticed until now, hadn’t even realized how close to the edge he’d been pushed.
His breath hitched as more tears spilled down, hot and uncontrollable, and he wiped them away angrily, trying to maintain control, trying not to fall apart in front of Eddie. But it was too late.
The weight of it all—the betrayal, the pain, the fear of losing Eddie—it crushed him. It felt like his heart was tearing open, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the flood of emotion that followed. More tears slipped from his eyes, and a broken sob escaped his throat, raw and unguarded.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” Buck choked out, his voice shaking. “I don’t know how to handle this, Eddie. You— you were supposed to be the one person who didn’t hurt me. The one person I could trust completely.”
Another sob wracked through him, and he had to grip the edge of the counter to keep himself steady, his vision blurring from the tears.
Guilt washed over Eddie’s face. He wanted to reach out and touch Buck, to pull him into his arms and promise that everything would be okay, but he didn’t deserve that right now. Not after everything he had done.
His hands hovered in the air, unsure of whether Buck would even want his touch, whether his comfort would do more harm than good.
Eddie took a deep breath, but it didn’t make him look any steadier. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I never wanted to hide anything from you. It’s just...”
Eddie swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t... I didn’t know what I was feeling. It’s not like I wanted to—” He stopped, clenching his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to fall apart right in front of Buck. “Kim—she—she looks so much like Shannon. I didn’t realize what that would do to me. It was like... like seeing a ghost.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that? You didn’t think to talk to me before you started seeing her? Fuck, Eddie, I thought we were supposed to be past this. I thought I could trust you.”
“I know,” Eddie sighed. “I know I messed up. I didn’t see what was happening—how much I was trying to... relive something I can never get back.”
Eddie’s heart clenched as he watched Buck start to turn away, the distance between them widening with every second. His hands itched to reach out, to pull Buck back, to hold him close and whisper apologies into his skin until the hurt started to fade.
But he couldn’t move. He stood there, frozen, as if some invisible force kept him rooted in place, helpless and terrified.
His mind screamed at him to do something —to reach for Buck, to stop him before he walked out the door, before it was too late. But the weight of his guilt held him down like a heavy anchor, dragging him deeper into the pain he had caused.
“Buck, wait—” Eddie’s voice cracked, his hand finally reaching out instinctively, desperate to close the gap, to grab hold of the only person who truly mattered to him. But Buck didn’t stop. He kept walking, his shoulders tense, his breath shaky and uneven.
Eddie’s hand dropped uselessly to his side, a low sob escaping his throat. He wanted to hold Buck so tightly that the cracks in their relationship would disappear, that the wound he had caused would somehow heal over. But how could he do that when he was the one who had caused the break in the first place?
“Buck, please ,” Eddie pleaded. His feet finally moved, taking one step, then another toward Buck, but it felt like he was wading through quicksand, sinking deeper with every effort.
“I’m so sorry. I—God, I never wanted to hurt you like this. Please don’t walk away. I love you. I love you so much.”
Buck stopped, standing just a few feet from the door, his back still turned to Eddie. He was shaking, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs that ripped through Eddie’s heart like shards of glass.
“I didn’t cheat on you,” Eddie added, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not physically. I never... I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Buck stood there, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself together.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” he admitted, his voice low and trembling. “The fact that you’re telling me you weren’t physically cheating, or the fact that you felt the need to emotionally relive your life with Shannon.”
Eddie stepped closer. “Please, Buck, just—let me hold you. Let me make this right. I’ll do anything. Just don’t... don’t walk away from me. I can’t lose you.”
But Buck didn’t turn around. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge Eddie’s outstretched hand. He just stood there, the sound of his broken breathing filling the space between them, as if the distance had become something tangible—something Eddie couldn’t bridge no matter how hard he tried.
Eddie’s chest tightened, the fear of losing Buck twisting inside him like a knife. He’d wanted so badly to reach for him, to hold him close and promise that everything would be okay, but now... now he wasn’t sure if anything could be okay.
Buck’s voice came out soft, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if you can fix this, Eddie.”
The words hit Eddie like a physical blow. The raw hurt in Buck’s voice, the resignation, the way he seemed to have given up—it shattered something deep inside Eddie. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and for a moment, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m going home,” Buck spoke again, his voice barely audible but clear.
Eddie flinched as if struck. Home? The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. It wasn’t just a statement; it was a declaration that the place they had shared, the life they had built together, no longer felt like home to Buck. The loft had become a symbol of the rift between them. For Buck, the loft wasn’t home anymore—it was just a place.
The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the empty space of the house, leaving Eddie standing there, alone, his hand still outstretched in the air.
He wanted to pull Buck back into his arms and make everything right again. But maybe, just maybe, he’d waited too long.
—
“Buck, take a seat,” Bobby said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
Buck hesitated for a second before sinking into the chair, his eyes avoiding Bobby’s.
“Everything okay, Cap?”
It had been a few days since that night in Eddie’s kitchen, and things hadn’t been the same since. The tension that had started between them had bled into the firehouse, infecting every shift, every moment of silence. Buck felt it like a constant pressure—Eddie’s presence, the awkwardness, the unsaid things hanging over them like a storm cloud.
It didn’t help that Buck could barely look at Eddie for more than five seconds.
And now, here he was, being called into Bobby’s office, where that same heaviness lingered in the air.
Bobby leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Buck. “I need you to understand that this is bigger than you and Eddie.”
Buck’s shoulders tensed. “Look, I know it’s been rough lately...”
Bobby shook his head, cutting him off. “It’s more than just rough, Buck. It’s causing real problems. The team’s performance is suffering, and that’s unacceptable. I’ve spoken to Eddie already, and I’m telling you the same thing: you two are off duty until you can work through whatever happened.”
Buck’s eyes widened. “Off duty? For how long?”
“As long as it takes,” Bobby said firmly. “And when you come back, I expect you to be ready to be professionals. Is that clear?”
“Yeah,” Buck muttered, just wanting this conversation to be over. “I got it. Crystal clear.”
—
Buck sat on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, his fingers tapping impatiently against his phone. The loft was quiet, the faint hum of the city barely reaching through the windows. It was late, and his thoughts swirled—frustration, confusion, a knot of feelings he couldn’t untangle.
When the soft knock came at the door, Buck tensed.
He didn’t need to check. He knew exactly who it was.
Opening the door, Buck was met with Eddie’s familiar figure. His jaw clenched, annoyance flickering across his face.
“What are you doing here?”
Eddie’s expression was calm, unshaken by Buck’s irritation. “We have to talk at some point,” Eddie said, matter-of-fact. “We’re off duty now. Bobby made sure of that.”
Buck’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he stepped aside to let Eddie in. “Great. So you’re here because Bobby sent you?” The words came out sharper than he intended.
“No,” Eddie said, his voice steady as he entered the loft. “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you.”
Buck huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, back rigid as he watched Eddie’s gaze sweep across the loft.
Eddie took in the room, and the change was subtle, but Buck saw it—the way Eddie’s eyes lingered, noticing how bare everything was.
The space looked even emptier now, with most of Buck’s things being at Eddie’s. His real home.
A few stray items were scattered here and there—a jacket thrown over a chair, an old photo on the counter. But it was mostly just… nothing.
The shelves that once held Buck’s books were half-empty, the kitchen counter free of the clutter that used to make the place feel alive. It had been gradual, the shift. Piece by piece, he’d moved his life into Eddie’s house without even realizing it, until suddenly, this place—the loft he once thought would be his sanctuary—felt hollow.
Eddie’s gaze settled on the couch, where blankets were carelessly strewn, the only real sign of life in the otherwise sparse space. Buck could see the recognition in his eyes, the soft understanding that Eddie wasn’t just seeing the room for what it was, but what it represented.
And maybe that’s what made Buck’s chest tighten—the fact that Eddie knew , without Buck having to say it.
“You called this place home the other night.”
The words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight, heavy enough to hang between them. For a moment, Buck’s anger faltered, crumbling beneath the truth he wasn’t ready to face. His arms dropped to his sides, the frustration that had been simmering for days melting into something quieter, something more raw.
He stared at Eddie, searching for something—anything—to say. But nothing came.
Eddie stepped further inside, his boots barely making a sound on the hardwood. His eyes never left Buck’s, like he was waiting, watching for the cracks to show.
“Buck…”
Buck exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he sank down onto the couch, the weight of it all settling over him. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that,” he muttered, the edge in his voice softening.
Eddie didn’t move, just stood there, his eyes flicking once more around the room—at the empty spaces, the bare walls.
“I know.”
Buck felt exposed. Like Eddie could see too much, knew too much. It was easier to be angry, to throw walls up between them, but Eddie wasn’t letting him. Not this time.
“I ended things with Kim,” Eddie said quietly. He finally moved, making his way to the couch and sitting down beside Buck, close but not too close.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Buck’s voice was laced with skepticism, his gaze staying on the brick wall ahead of him.
“I just needed you to know that I’ve realized how wrong I was, and that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.”
Buck’s eyes welled up, the raw emotion reflected in the shimmering pools of tears. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but the sight of Eddie’s face, full of regret and sadness, only deepened his pain.
“You know, it’s not even really about Kim,” Buck started. “I’m not stupid, Eddie. I can piece together why you felt like you had to reach out to her.”
Buck’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his emotions nearly unbearable. “It’s about more than just her. It’s about what her presence represented. It’s about the trust that was shattered the moment I saw her at the firehouse, and how that moment made me question everything.”
The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the room itself was mourning the fracture in their relationship.
Eddie’s heart ached with the realization that no matter how many apologies he offered or how deeply he felt his regret, it would never fully erase the pain he had caused.
Buck’s hands, which had been gripping his knees, were now clenched into tight fists. The tremors running through him were a physical manifestation of the emotional storm that raged inside.
“I thought we were building something real,” Buck continued, his voice breaking, “something that could withstand anything. But now it feels like everything we had was just... hollow.”
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally broke free, slipping down his cheeks in silent streams.
Eddie’s own eyes were wet with unshed tears, the sight of Buck’s pain cutting him deeply.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice as he spoke again. “Buck, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I thought I was doing something—anything—to hold on to a part of my past, but I see now how wrong that was. You’re right; it was never just about Kim. It was about me trying to fill a void I shouldn’t have been looking to fill.”
Buck’s eyes flicked to Eddie, searching his face for sincerity, for any sign that Eddie truly understood the depth of his mistake.
Eddie took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out, slowly placing them on Buck’s. The contact was light, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make Buck flinch slightly. Eddie noticed and pulled back.
“I know I can’t undo what’s been done. I can’t change the past, but I want to show you that I’m willing to fight for us. I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild the trust we had.”
Buck’s gaze softened slightly, the anger and pain still evident, but tempered. “How do we even start to rebuild?” he asked, his voice a whisper of vulnerability. “How do we move past this?”
Eddie’s own tears spilled over, and he wiped them away quickly, his hands trembling.
“We start by being honest,” he said softly. “We start by making sure you never have to question my commitment to you again. I know it’ll take time, but I want to prove to you that I am here, that I am committed to us. That I love you more than anything.”
Buck looked down, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his tears and the emotional weight of the moment. “I want to believe that,” he murmured, his voice cracking.
Eddie reached out again, his hand finding Buck’s, and this time Buck didn’t pull away.
Eddie squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll do everything I can to make it right, I promise you that.”
The room fell into a quieter silence, the weight of their emotions still present but less oppressive.
Buck looked at Eddie, his eyes red and swollen but also searching for a path forward. Eddie met his gaze with a hopeful, earnest look, willing his heart to show through his words and actions.
For a moment, there was a fragile but real sense of understanding between them.
Buck took a shuddering breath, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he absorbed Eddie’s words and the sincerity behind them.
“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly, his voice trembling. “I’m scared that we might never be the same.”
Eddie’s eyes softened with empathy, his own heart aching for the uncertainty Buck was feeling.
“I’m scared too,” he confessed. “But we can find our way back. We always do.”
Buck nodded slowly, the tears still in his eyes but now mingled with a glimmer of hope. He squeezed Eddie’s hand in return. Eddie lifted Buck’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.
Eddie’s eyes never left Buck’s as he placed the kiss, his gaze steady and sincere.
“I love you,” he said softly. “I love you so much.”
Slowly, Buck’s expression softened, the glimmer of hope in his eyes growing a bit brighter. He took a deep breath, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening ever so slightly.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
Eddie’s hand remained wrapped around Buck’s, their fingers intertwined, and for the first time in a while, the space between them felt a little smaller, a little more—manageable.
After a moment, Buck let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound easing some of the lingering tension. He looked at Eddie, his expression softening as he took a deep breath.
“So,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “why would you tell her you love brownies?”