Work Text:
When he finally arrived at Eddie’s house with a pack of beer in his hands, his first thought was not to reach into his back pocket where he had placed his keys. For some reason unbeknownst to him at the time, he had foregone the initial plan to open the door himself. It only took him a few minutes to know he didn’t want to unlock the door. Standing outside Eddie’s front door and listening to the muted sound of music from a house with far too thin walls, he questioned why he was standing there.
It was seconds later when he realized that he wanted to be let in…he wanted someone to let him in. He was so tired of everyone’s refusal to keep him, once they let him in. It was a childish desire — this inescapable notion of needing to belong somewhere with someone. He knew where he belonged.
He belonged with the 118. He had his family. He had his friends.
Was it selfish to want more?
Was it selfish to stand outside Eddie’s house, doing everything short of falling to his knees and pleading that he would ask Buck to stay?
The pack of beer grew heavy in his hands the longer he stood there, waiting for the music to trickle down into its final notes. Listening to the sound swirl around the space filled with Eddie’s singing, Buck imagined what it must be like to see him happy. What led Eddie to this level of exuberance and reckless abandon? What was the root of this unbridled joy encompassing him in that moment?
Why was Buck finding it hard to reconcile the Eddie he knew with the outlined shadowed figure of his dancing body, hidden behind the curtains?
What changed?
And why was Buck jealous that Eddie was able to feel everything so freely, while he was weighed down by the impossible burden of loneliness?
He didn’t want to disrupt this moment. He didn’t want to infringe on his happiness, making it simmer down into the diluted sadness that Buck found himself drowning in. It would be self-serving to impart his hollowed out soul into his residence, seeking out Eddie to fill him up in ways only he could.
There was a stray thought that told Buck he would allow Eddie to further carve more space in the hollowed out portion of his soul. He would grant him permission, if only because Eddie was always good at knowing what he needed. He would instantly find things to make him feel whole again.
Yet he found himself questioning once more whether that was selfish.
He didn’t search too hard to find the answer to such an inquiry.
He knew he was selfish for the main fact that he wasn't turning on his heel to head back to his car. Quite possibly it was leftover curiosity that aroused the need to know what Eddie was experiencing at the moment.
In the dark recesses of his mind, Buck briefly wondered whether it was also a desire for closeness that kept him rooted in his spot. He wanted to abate the loneliness with someone who wouldn't turn him away. Yet he was scared to open the door, fearful that Eddie would turn him away upon seeing that Buck was eclipsing the happiness he finally had the chance to grab ahold of.
Buck had to understand that he couldn't do more than listen to muted music and watch shadows dance behind curtains. For now, that would be fine. It would have to be enough. He could give himself a few more minutes then he would leave.
However, he couldn't gather his body to move in the opposite direction once a few minutes had passed.
Instead he shifted his weight onto his right leg and raised his hand to knock on Eddie’s door.
It didn’t take long for Eddie to come to the door, opening it widely like he was entreating him to come in — like he was somewhat aware that there was a possibility that Buck was standing out there before he even came to the door. He couldn’t allow himself to be led into the dangerous possibility that maybe Eddie was hoping he’d be on the other side of that door.
Those thoughts alone were the only reason he wasn’t immediately distracted by Eddie’s current state of undress. There had been many occasions where he had seen Eddie in that state. There had been other moments where he had seen him in far less.
It wasn’t his state of undress that had him lingering for a second on his front doorstep. No, it was the fact that Eddie let him in without a singular question or anything more than a curious gaze at what he assumed was the serious expression marked on his face.
It was such a miniscule second that he hoped Eddie didn’t notice it as he walked past him with a beer bottle held out in silent offering. The beer fell out of his hands and into Eddie’s as he slumped down on his couch.
Steadfastly, he kept his eyes ahead of himself as Eddie walked onto the coffee table and then settled down onto the seat beside him. He didn’t move his attention from the opposite wall even as he heard Eddie open his beer bottle and take a sip of his drink.
Resolutely, he determined to sit in silence lest he be unable to stop things from tumbling from his mouth, once he began speaking. It was far too hard to keep things from Eddie. He rarely ever wanted to, but he didn’t know where to begin.
How could Buck let his best friend know that he had been broken up with…again?
How could he let him know that dealing with the break-up was easier because he knew that at least he had Eddie to return to. Would that be fair to admit to Eddie? Would it be fair for him to ask Eddie to bear the responsibility of his happiness now that he was no longer seeing anyone?
No, it wouldn't be fair.
It wouldn't be a justifiable reason to disrupt the happy and content expression in Eddie's face nor would it be right to make his jaw tighten in tension or his shoulders to rise in anger, once Buck told him everything. He had to stop himself from ruining whatever happiness Eddie managed to find. Part of him wanted to know what it was that made him so happy, but he couldn't find it in himself to speak.
The beer settled uncomfortably in his stomach and intermingled with the anxiety making its way through his body. Quickly finishing off his first beer, he grabbed one more bottle. Eddie followed shortly after, setting down his empty beer bottle on the table before he picked up another one.
They were three bottles in and going on an hour of silence, when Eddie spoke up. Buck’s shoulders tightened because he wanted to sit in the stillness of that moment for a little while longer, before reality crept back into his vicinity.
“Are you okay?” Eddie whispered, voice having grown hoarse no doubt from singing along to Old Time Rock and Roll with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
Buck wanted to ignore the question, spoken softly and with a level of concern that he didn’t want him to have…at least not for this. His eyes strayed from the opposite wall and led down to sock clad feet and bare legs. The pink dress shirt did very little at covering more than Eddie’s upper thighs.
Suddenly, he had the urge for his hand to fall away from his bottle and trace the lines in his knees. He wanted his hands, wet from condensation and warm from the heat in the room, to trail up from the arch of his foot and toward the dip of his spine.
Internally, he shook his head and rid himself of the thought.
Why was his mind leading him on a strange path?
This was Eddie.
This was his best friend.
They were certainly close, but not close enough to negate the abnormality of him wanting to touch his friend’s uncovered legs.
He was too focused on his observance of Eddie’s outstretched legs that he nearly missed hearing Eddie repeat his question.
“I should be asking you that,” Buck parroted back, lips tilted up in the hint of an amused smirk. “Didn’t think you were the one to be giving Tom Cruise a run for his money. Have to say I never too much minded the movie, but I could wager that I’d grow to appreciate it more if it was you dancing in the film. Might want to send in an audition tape, once Hollywood inevitably continues their growing theme of remakes and tries their hand at a modern Risky Business.”
Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Buck mirrored the reaction with his own muted smile as he tracked the way Eddie’s throat vibrated with the trills of laughter and his chest rose with each shaky exhalation and smooth inhalation of air.
Eddie turned to face him, once his laughter petered out. Cheeks suffused with color — the shade of cherry blossoms — became even more pink the longer he stared at Buck. He wondered if he should tell Eddie to turn the temperature down or to turn the ceiling fan on.
“You heard that, huh?” Eddie sheepishly questioned, looking at him from underneath his impossibly long eyelashes.
And saw , was what he was going to confess then thought otherwise.
“Yeah, kind of disappointed I didn’t get to see you in action,” he said, curling his lips into a smirk around the mouth of his beer bottle. “Seems like you enjoyed yourself.”
Eddie lowered his eyes and ran his fingers over the beer bottle's label. His mouth tensed up and his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth together. Then his expression cleared, leaving behind an openness that Buck was fearful of because he had no idea what that open vulnerability meant — and he was terrified he’d somehow managed to make Eddie retreat back into his closed off expression.
“You want to see me dance?” Eddie quietly asked, turning to face him.
Buck swallowed down his quick response. He felt his heart stutter and was afraid that Eddie could hear it beating thunderously in his chest. His cheeks grew warm and his mouth grew hot with an answer he wasn’t yet ready to explain.
“Yes,” he simply managed to say, placing down his beer and shifting his body to directly face Eddie.
In response, his eyes widened like he hadn’t expected Buck to actually answer him with an agreeable reply. Something like apprehension circulated in his eyes, but it went away as Eddie rolled his shoulders back and stood up from the couch.
Buck’s eyes fell first to the pink shirt and the way it fell even lower on Eddie’s thighs, no longer hitched up due to his seated position on the couch. He watched as the long column of Eddie’s neck elongated as he drank the last remaining sips of his beer.
He licked his lips, already red from the way he had nervously bit into them while he was gathering the courage to get up from the couch. There were no more words shared as Eddie queued up the song again and took center stage in his living room.
“Don’t laugh or I swear…” Eddie warned, leaving the threat open-ended.
“I would never,” Buck promised as he reclined more into his seat.
The music began to fill the room once more. It wasn’t his favorite song and certainly would never be added to his playlist. However, as he listened to Eddie sing and watched him perform the dance from the movie, he knew this moment would be etched as a memory on his heart.
He watched as Eddie moved throughout the room, falling down to his knees and moving rapturously. Buck’s mouth fell open at the fluidity in his movements and the way his body was easily accustomed to sensuous performances.
He nearly fell from his seat and stumbled to crawl after Eddie on his knees, once he redirected his attention to him. He stared at him from half-lidded eyes and a mouth open with clipped breaths and tremulous sighs that sounded like an appeal — but for what Buck had trouble finding out.
Eddie’s mouth parted on words, but nothing more than long sighs and short gasps left his mouth. He would give anything to Eddie, if those teasing gasps of yearning turned into words of earnest pleading.
Best friend, he reminded himself.
The reminder sounded abrasive and bitter because why was he having to remind himself that Eddie was his best friend? He could admire a friend. It was normal.
If he could label everything as normal, he could ignore the unease placed in his mind as he caught Eddie’s attention.
But he was having an extremely difficult time depicting the scene in the living room as normal .
Buck wanted to know why Eddie was staring at him in that manner. He wanted to know why he couldn’t look away from hazel eyes that sought to reel him in and drag him closer than they ever had been in their many years of knowing each other.
He wanted to know why Eddie was inspiring him to question what it was that led him here to his house. He wanted to know why he was more comfortable sitting on Eddie’s couch drinking beer and watching Eddie dance than he ever was while sitting across from Tommy…or anyone else that he had found himself falling for.
He didn’t even know if he ever had a friend like Eddie. Maybe that’s why he had such a hard time reworking their friendship into something that was normal. Nothing between them was ever normal.
They were Buck and Eddie.
Perhaps, the simplicity in that statement wouldn’t be understood by most. Though now he was wondering if anything between them was ever simple.
But why was he questioning things now? Had the ground been ripped up from underneath him due to his talk with Tommy?
Did Buck not only need to question his romantic relationships, but also every relationship he ever had been in whether it be familial, platonic, or romantic?
And why was he starting with Eddie?
He wanted to know why there was something new surging up in his body.
Where was this unease coming from?
Did it all truly stem from another break-up?
Did it stem from the fact that instead of mourning the loss of another relationship, his mind was caught sorting through the planted roots of his friendship with Eddie and seeing just how far down they went.
He should be sad that he was experiencing another break-up.
That was what his mind should be focused on.
He should be feeling bereft that he failed at another relationship, no matter how hard he made conscious efforts to make everything work. He should be questioning what it was about him that made everyone he dated want to leave, when all he ever wanted was for them to stay…for him to be worthy enough for them to want to stay.
He should be all of those things and more, yet there he was feeling none of those things. He wasn’t questioning his worth as a person. He wasn’t feeling sad that someone else had proven that he wasn’t loveable enough to keep or that his love wasn’t enough for them to hold onto.
Instead, he was questioning whether all those attempts at being perfect for them were all done in vain because they weren’t…
His thoughts came to a standstill as his breaths grew short.
No.
No.
That thought had to be put to rest. It had risen like a flame and it needed to be stifled. He had to place the top over the candle and watch the flame be snuffed out. He couldn’t allow that fire to grow to an alarming height and overtake his body.
He couldn’t allow those thoughts to form. He had to dispel them, before they emboldened themselves to become actions. He couldn’t want Eddie in the way his heart was already urging him to feel.
He would inevitably fail.
With Eddie he couldn’t risk failing. He never wanted there to be a day where Buck came by Eddie’s house and he wouldn’t let him in.
He couldn’t bear to hope that there could be more. He should know he wasn’t even ready to explore anything more than a friendship.
And yet…
He found himself wanting more.
He found himself wanting Eddie, in ways that he never wanted anyone else.
No, that’s not right.
No.
Buck’s mind was laying down a track of tricks in his mind for him to follow. He would not be manipulated by the delusions of his subconscious. These thoughts were only taking root in his mind because he was attaching himself to someone familiar to reform the hole left behind from another person leaving him.
He just hated how it felt like he was lying to himself.
His eyes swept over Eddie once more, watching him move throughout his house as though it were his stage. Buck would stand in applause and beg him for an encore the moment he was done, if only to give him more time to pretend like his world wasn’t shattering underneath his feet.
He needed more time to gather himself and act like his thoughts weren’t threatening to usurp everything he knew about his friendship with Eddie. He put his trust into the status of his friendship with Eddie. He knew that would never change.
Eddie swore it wouldn’t change.
Nothing would ever change between them.
And yet…
He found himself wanting to press forward and implore Eddie to forgive him for his selfishness.
He wanted more.
With Eddie there was always a traitorous whisper of, "More."
He could never be satisfied with what he had, it had even been a problem in his youth. It was a fault he never managed to eradicate.
Of course he knew that if he had Eddie, he would never need or want anything or anyone else. But that was entirely far too selfish.
His friendship with Eddie was far more than he deserved.
Anything more would be far too greedy.
If he couldn’t capture the attention of Tommy long enough for him to stay longer than six months, how could he manage to keep Eddie’s?
What could he do to make Eddie stay that he hadn’t already tried with the others?
What could he do to make Eddie want to stop for him?
And that was the question that riddled him with confusion.
Why did it even matter, asking himself these questions?
Why was his mind tormenting him with things Buck didn’t feel?
Why was it mistakenly trying to reshape his feelings, when it knew how much his friendship with Eddie meant to Buck?
Was his mind hoping to drive him maddeningly insane?
Couldn’t it let go of this fleeting idea and give him peace?
Why ask questions and subsequently compare Eddie to those who never reached even a small fraction of importance in Buck’s life? Was his mind not satisfied?
Was his mind foolishly believing that in order for someone to stay they had to love Buck?
Was platonic love not enough?
Buck already had Eddie in far better ways than those who would claim to know him and romantically love him. Eddie opening his door was enough of a sign that their friendship was enough.
Buck was wrapped in debilitating gloom and Eddie had sat with him even though he was breathtakingly wrapped up in the warmth of the sun. And he was meant to believe that friendship was not gratifyingly sufficient?
He took another casual sip of his beer as he continued watching Eddie dance. He observed how sweat gathered at his temples and caused his hair to curl. Buck wanted to reach out and see if the lock of hair was long enough to tuck behind his ear.
Eventually, the song ended and another song filled its spot. Buck found himself regretting that he hadn’t taken more time to appreciate Eddie dancing. However, the feeling was cut short as Eddie walked over toward him and held his hand out.
Buck looked up at him, watching as a beatific smile overtook his features.
“Dance with me,” Eddie breathlessly suggested, speaking for the first time since the song had ended.
“Okay,” Buck exhaled, slipping his hand into Eddie’s soft and slightly calloused hands.
Eddie’s hand slipped from his as another upbeat song took its place. His own movements were jaunty and uncoordinated, but Eddie never looked as happy nor as free as he did in that moment. Eddie, as if sensing his reluctance, grabbed him by his arms and lightly shook him.
“You’ve gotta relax,” Eddie happily stated. “Come on, loosen up those shoulders. You can have some fun for a second. It’s no one else, but us here and I promise I won't judge.”
With the support of Eddie, he began moving his arms around in the form of a dance no choreographer would ever deign to acknowledge. His own laughter echoed back and forth with Eddie’s as they deliriously made the living room into their own dance floor.
That song turned into two. Then another song led into another one. By the sixth song, they had grown tired. Eddie walked away for a minute to change his playlist to something slower. Buck thought that he was sending the message that the dance party was over, but he was surprised when Eddie walked back over to him with his hand held out like he had done so only a few minutes ago.
Buck stepped closer as he was led into Eddie’s space.
“You ever going to tell me why you’ve come to my house looking for all intents and purposes like a stray cat left out to dry?” Eddie questioned as one of his hands fell over his shoulders and the other guided his own to his waist.
He must’ve truly painted a poor image as Eddie’s concern became more apparent.
“Tommy broke up with me,” he decided to say, at least giving him a reason for his late night appearance.
Eddie’s eyebrows drew forward toward the bridge of his nose and his lips turned downward in a frown.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Buck said, before Eddie could question anything about the breakup.
“Buck…”
“Not now,” Buck whispered, intent to let this moment exist only between the two of them. No one else belonged in this room, mentioned or otherwise.
“But later,” Eddie gently offered.
“Later,” he promised back with the same sincerity that Eddie’s voice held.
From there they didn’t say anything else. They let the song play on. Buck didn’t listen to the lyrics, so he didn’t know why his heart was feeling so heavy. Emotions he hadn’t dealt with in years were now being brought to the forefront of his mind and he found everything inescapable.
It was closing in on him with no chance of reprieve. He tried holding back his response from the emotions, but he had never been too good at holding back what he felt. Tears were falling down, before he could even threaten them to not make their quest to the outside world.
He turned his head away from Eddie, trying to shelter him from the emotions on his face.
“It’s okay,” Eddie soothed, turning his head so Buck could burrow down further into the space between his jaw and shoulder.
Buck pressed his nose into the curve of his neck, smelling the fragrant cologne that always gave him a form of peace. He felt his tears trickle down onto the collar of Eddie’s shirt and felt the way his hands tightened on his waist, pulling him closer and offering all the comfort he could provide.
How could he tell Eddie he wasn’t crying over his relationship with Tommy? How would he respond that Buck was crying because he was so overwhelmed with everything and was worried that eventually he’d managed to mess this up too — that Eddie would leave him too whether through his own volition or through outside factors.
Then he wondered if the day came for Eddie to leave, would he do as he did today and run toward someone else? But with the absence of Eddie there wouldn’t really be anyone to run to in the wake of that loss.
He wouldn’t run to anyone else because he’d be too busy running toward Eddie and following the path he was on.
It reminded him of when he would chase after trains as a young child. When he was a kid, he would sometimes sneak out of the house while everyone was asleep. Initially, it had only been to quell the childish curiosity of where the trains went at night. Most of the time, he rarely heard the trains in the morning. It was only at night where it seemed the trains seemed to be the busiest.
He knew it was dangerous for a kid, only at his wise age of nine, to leave his house and head toward the train tracks. However, after he realized neither his parents nor Maddie noticed he was gone he found a nice pastime whenever he couldn’t fall asleep. He would quietly make his way out of his house, thankful that his parents never set up an alarm.
He would listen for the distinguishable signs of the trains, journeying toward a destination that at first Buck neither cared to know or could ever reach. Growing closer to the trains, he would race alongside them. He never knew where they were going, but he was so excited to think that one day he would finally reach the same destination they were heading in.
He loved chasing them, running with legs that grew longer as he grew from a young child into a teenager. However, the desire for chasing trains faded away as he matured into an adult.
Yet here in the dark living room, offset by lights that portrayed the warmth of golden hour amongst the darkening skies of the outside world, Buck felt jealous of the freedom in Eddie's body as they continued to slowly dance around the room. Then the jealousy turned into a burning sensation of desire and want.
Suddenly, he found a relentless need to run — an urge to get up and chase...not for trains though. For some reason, he knew that wouldn't satisfy his needs. He had found something...someone else he wanted to run after with the same wild passion he had in his youth.
He realized he wanted more than to chase after Eddie, whenever he would inevitably get that urge to run. Because as much as Buck noticed Eddie chasing happiness in that moment, he knew eventually there might be a crash that would send him back to the moment of wondering whether this pocket of light had to be dimmed.
He wanted Eddie to know that if he were to ever feel like running, Buck would be right there on his heel…an ever present reminder that he could eventually stop and there would be someone waiting for him.
As Eddie’s hand grew still from behind his neck and his warm breaths fell over his shoulder, he found himself thinking that perhaps Eddie might not run away at all.
He withdrew his face from Eddie’s neck in order to stare down at him. Eddie’s eyes peered up at him.
He didn’t want to ask Eddie if he was happy at that moment, fearful that this moment was rare.
He didn’t want to ask whether Eddie’s own thoughts were tormenting him with ideas and delusions that shouldn’t be spoken in the daylight, but perhaps could be whispered like spoken secrets at night.
Now wasn’t the right time, but there was hope that someday possibly soon that there would be a right time to talk about this moment. Maybe he was deluding himself with hope, but there was a centered look of expressed hope in Eddie’s eyes that reflected everything Buck was feeling. In his eyes was a whispered confession, waiting to be outwardly admitted.
Could it be friendship heightened with years of trust and vulnerability? They had never really talked about what they meant to each other as friends, but it appeared that conversation was catching up to them faster than they realized.
It was a conversation that had far too many questions from Buck’s side.
Where did this insatiable need to tell Eddie how much he appreciated his friendship come from?
Where did the desire to tell Eddie how important he was to Buck materialize?
Why did he want to cling onto any shred of comfort that Eddie provided in the wake of everyone departing from Buck’s life?
Would it be an impossible burden to be placed on Eddie, if Buck were to confess that their friendship was as essential to him as breathing — or even more essential? He had air stolen from his lungs. He knew how to be without air.
He didn’t know if he could survive without Eddie.
He’d desperately cling onto him, if Eddie were to even try leaving. There were moments that it seemed as though Eddie knew if he were to ever try leaving, Buck would cling onto him and travel wherever it was Eddie’s feet were leading them.
Sometimes Eddie looked at him like he was waiting for someone to catch him and give him a reason to stop running. And as he continued to stare at him, Buck came to an understanding. Eddie wasn't waiting for just anyone else.
He was waiting for him.
He wondered if that was his mind distorting reality once more and playing into something that Buck wasn’t even sure was real. He didn’t know how to properly define whatever changes were rippling through his body. Everything felt too fraught like one step might change the direction of his entire life.
Confusion rattled him because he was beginning to grow unsure of himself. What exactly was he calling into question? Eddie had such an intrinsic and essential part of his life. How could he have been concerned with anyone else, when all he needed was his best friend?
He had searched endlessly for someone to trust and turn to in moments of confusion. He wanted to be the same for Eddie. He wanted Eddie to know that he would always be there for him, whenever he felt like he was growing restless.
He had been there many times, seeing the way Eddie’s body nearly vibrated with the pressure…the all consuming need to run away. And for all the years that he had known Eddie, Buck had grown to understand that he loved to run.
Which was why he shouldn’t have been surprised, when not only a few weeks later Eddie began running.
No, that wasn’t surprising at all.
Eddie always ran away from something.
And Buck always ran toward something.
It was a tale as old as time.
So, no. None of this was unexpected. Buck had just forgotten it was a possibility. He had grown too comfortable in Eddie’s presence that he grew unfamiliar with the idea that he could eventually leave. Despite wanting to tie sandbags to Eddie’s ankles, Buck knew to expect this ever since Christopher first left for El Paso.
Helping Eddie run back to El Paso, especially when it felt like his heart was breaking down in the same spot where it had begun to grow, wasn’t surprising.
The hurt that followed in his reluctant acceptance that Eddie had to run and Buck couldn’t follow him this time well…
… that was surprising.
When Buck offered to help him in his search for a home in El Paso, Eddie’s first thought wasn’t one of appreciation. That wasn’t his first response at all. There were too many emotions and thoughts for him to latch onto.
In fact, there wasn’t one singular thought that plagued his mind. Instead it was a cacophony of disjointed ramblings, piercing his mind with their incessant screams.
Even now as they sat in his living room, weeks later after Eddie first told him his intent to move, those same thoughts still tortuously cursed him. Much of his sleep had been stolen away by those thoughts that could never rest.
His shoulders tensed and his mouth tightened as Buck’s shoulder brushed up against his. For a single blessed moment, his thoughts grew silent.
Buck turned to face him, eyes glowing dim in spite of the golden light filtering through them. Shadows blanketed his expression, creating a harshness to the softened curve of his brow. Eddie stopped the instinctual pull to press his hands against his skin and urge the shadows to retreat.
“What about this one?” Buck questioned, tilting the computer more to face him. “It’s a two bedroom, two and a half bathroom house. It’s also in the same school district Christopher is currently in, so he wouldn’t have to change schools.”
He drew his eyes toward the screen and looked at the pictures. It didn’t look any different than the other houses that his realtor had sent him. There was nothing separating one house from the other. Everything felt entirely mundane and as Eddie had grown to expect as of lately, he wanted more than mundane.
“It’s nice,” he softly commented.
His eyes went back to the window that faced his street. It would almost be time for the children to start walking home and the school bus to start driving through the streets. He wondered if his parents were getting ready to pick Christopher up from school, since he had chess club that afternoon and it didn’t end until four in the evening.
He was glad his parents had at the very least given him Christopher’s school schedule that had all of his clubs listed out. It had taken some time, but they eventually sent it with a promise to keep him more involved.
His son’s schedule was printed out and hung up on the refrigerator with a magnet Buck had bought some odd number of years ago.
Eddie wondered if they would develop a different after-school routine from when they were in California. Would the drive from Christopher’s school to their new house be shorter or longer? Would Christopher want him in the pick-up lane, ready to take him to a place he could barely begin to regard as home?
“Yeah, it’s nice,” Buck sighed as he repeated Eddie’s words back to him.
“What’s with the tone?” Eddie questioned, bristling at the sarcasm in his friend’s voice.
“Nothing,” Buck shrugged. “It’s just that every house we’ve looked at has been nice.”
“What’s the problem with that?” Eddie asked, adjusting his body to fully face Buck. “Isn’t nice good?”
Eddie waited and watched as Buck’s hands nervously fluttered over the keyboard. He shook his head and dry laughter fell from pursed lips like the sound was hidden behind an array of emotions he didn’t want to release.
“Nothing,” Buck tiredly groused. “I’m glad you think this house is nice….just like I’m glad that you thought the one before that was nice and the one before that and the one before…”
“Hey, what’s your deal right now? You said you wanted to help me look for a house. If this is so bothersome for you, we can stop looking through houses together. I don’t exactly need your help,” Eddie voiced, stiffening in his seat as something uncontrollable and unnamed nipped at his chest. “I told you that I could do this on my own.”
“Right, because you can do everything on your own,” Buck lightly teased, but it being paired with a scoff diluted the statement’s light-heartedness.
Eddie didn’t say anything in return. He had been doing that a lot…holding back.
Buck stared at him as if waiting for him to say something. Eddie smiled and pretended that he took his words as a lighthearted joke.
“Gotta learn how to do these things by myself again. Won’t have you in El Paso to hold my hand and help me anymore,” Eddie laughed, but the sound held no humor.
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Lately, Eddie was finding it hard to say the right things.
Buck’s expression shuttered closed and he grabbed the bottle of water that had been left unopened on Eddie’s coffee table. Eddie wondered if he was drinking the water to swallow down whatever he wanted to say.
Eddie’s eyes drew downward toward his hands that were clasped between his thighs. His own water bottle sat untouched on the coffee table, a few inches away from where Buck’s had been. His hands prickled as he nervously began to rub them together. He winced slightly as the friction reminded him of the small wounds on the palms of his hands that were no larger than an inch.
An unfortunate habit had made a home in Eddie’s subconscious actions.
He had taken to nervously picking at the palms of hands. His knuckles suffered from him popping them past the point where it felt satisfying. His hands grew white and then red with how tightly he tried holding himself together, restraining himself from searching for something he couldn’t claim to know.
His eyes made it a point to stare at Buck’s as his hand tightly gripped his water bottle to the point where the bottle’s labeling creased and the bottle dimpled under his touch. Buck’s hand stretched toward the lip of the bottle as he brought it back down near Eddie’s untouched one.
At first, Eddie had offered to get them something to drink while they went through the list of houses his realtor had sent to him. Opening up his fridge, he wasn’t shocked to see that the only thing staring at him were water bottles and a case of beer. Beer was a staple in his refrigerator. However, he didn’t want that at the moment. He didn’t want water either.
Water had mostly been his drink of choice because he was trying to save money for the move. Those seemingly inexpensive luxuries like juice were not an affordable choice right now. He remembered staring at the juice aisle and painfully contemplating whether it made sense to spend money on any one of the juices in that aisle.
His eyes had been trained on the Minute Maid drinks as he remembered his abuela keeping those drinks in the refrigerator, especially when it was summertime.
There were so many flavors.
Minute Maid Strawberry Lemonade.
Minute Maid Fruit Punch.
Minute Maid Berry Punch.
Minute Maid Peach.
There were so many options with only that one brand.
Then his eyes traveled further down the aisle, glancing at the other options that his friends’ at school always seemed to have a supply of, whenever he went to their houses. Sometimes they had smaller versions that they would bring with their lunch. One time his friend had traded him one of his drinks for Eddie’s sandwich. It was an odd exchange, but one Eddie didn’t care to question.
Eddie would never forget drinking that small bottle of cranberry juice as they sat in their humid cafeteria because it was nearing summer and the school’s AC system was busted.
Eddie remembered coming home and asking his parents if they could buy those drinks his friends had. He wanted to buy the Ocean-Spray drinks because he always liked the commercials that aired. He had only tried cranberry juice once, but he liked it so much.
His dad had told him that juice was too expensive and they had water at home. If he really wanted something sweet to drink, he could make himself some lemonade from the lemons his Tío Paco gave them.
Sadly, he drank the tangy lemonade. It was sour because his dad forgot to mention they didn’t have more than a cup of sugar, since most of the sugar jar was used to bake cupcakes for Adriana’s kindergarten summer-break party.
He tried not to feel disappointed, when he later saw Sophia taking out a giant bottle of Ocean Spray Cran-Raspberry juice and pouring it into cups for her friends that had come over after dance practice.
It had only been a few days ago where he stood there in that juice aisle, going through the various options that he didn’t know were available to him as a kid. Had they always been there or did the company add more, since Eddie was a child?
Ocean Spray Cranberry.
Ocean Spray Cran-Apple.
Ocean Spray Cran-Pineapple
Ocean Spray White Cran-Peach.
Ocean Spray White Cran-Strawberry
Ocean Spray Cran-Mango.
There were so many options.
There were too many options and at that moment Eddie was overwhelmed. Did he want to spend nearly $3 on any of the Minute Maid drinks or $4 dollars on the Ocean Spray drinks?
He looked down at his shopping cart and started going down the list of the other things he needed to buy in his preparation to move. He let the prices of the different juices justify him turning on his heel and moving his cart into the water aisle.
The store brand package of 24 count water bottles was only $2.99 and that made the decision for him.
It made the decision easy, but it didn’t make it feel right.
It felt like he was taking several steps back without ever having made a solid step forward.
Right now as he stared at the two water bottles, he desperately wished he had bought some juice. It would have made the guilt taste better going down his throat. Eddie grabbed his own bottle of water and motioned back to the house they were viewing.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie apologized as he took a sip of water. “I am glad that you’re helping me narrow down my list.”
And that’s what Buck had been doing because ultimately the decision would lay solely on Eddie.
“I know you could be doing literally anything with your day off and you’re here,” Eddie acknowledged as he sat his water bottle back down. “I don’t mean to act like I’m not appreciative of your help because I am. This is just a lot right now. I think I underestimated how hard this was going to be.”
He wasn't determined to voice the fact that he wasn’t talking about the house search, when he mentioned how hard this process was becoming.
He stared at Buck who was still silent beside him. He waited to see whether he was going to say something. He watched as flickers of conversations played out in Buck’s eyes. He could see the exact moment he saw an argument that had been rehearsed and performed as they first butt heads with each other over the list of houses they were going through.
Decidedly, Buck chose not to stir up another argument. Instead he leant back, resting his head on the couch. His eyes fluttered shut and Eddie tried counting the eyelashes that kissed his cheek. Buck sighed softly, the sound reverberating through the room as if a wind had pushed past the small creak in the window that had been opened to let in some fresh air, since Eddie always did that whenever he cleaned the house.
“You’re moving, Eddie. Of course it’s going to be hard,” Buck quietly agreed. “I get that. And that’s why I’m trying to help. That’s why I want to do this together, you know? As a team.”
He didn’t know why that statement caused a twitch of irritation to ripple through his body. Buck’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see the way Eddie’s lips pursed tightly together before a thin exhale was released from his mouth.
“It’d be easier, if you weren’t trying to help all the time,” Eddie hesitantly confessed under his breath.
Buck’s eyes opened and he turned his head toward Eddie. Confusion that had been dormant in his eyes spurned like a kindled fire catching wind. He leaned forward and pressed his elbows against his knees as he faced Eddie.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buck questioned.
“Nothing,” Eddie murmured. “Forget I said anything.”
“No,” Buck huffed as he gestured to the open space between them. “You’re apparently trying to say something. I wish you’d actually tell me what you meant. How am I making this hard for you? I’ve been extremely helpful.”
He wanted to scream at him, That’s why! Why are you being so helpful? Why does it seem like you’re one second from pushing me out the door and another second from hiding my keys so I don’t leave?
“Why?” was the only thing Eddie said in response, despite wanting to say more.
He had to dig his heels into the quicksand, so he wouldn’t be tempted to dredge up things neither of them should be dealing with.
“Why?” Buck repeated as his voice caught that raspy hoarseness that never failed to make Eddie stop in his tracks.
His voice was resigned with barely concealed emotions whether it be anger or sadness. Eddie wondered which of the two were directed toward him. He hated himself for being the reason for either of the two emotions.
“Nothing. Just let it go. It doesn’t matter. Okay, let’s go back through this house. The staging makes it look good, but I’ll be moving into an empty house. I don’t want to get blindsided by all the décor,” he mumbled, turning away from Buck’s inquisitive and penetrative stare.
He grabbed the laptop and started scrolling through the pictures.
“This is probably the nicest out of the ones we viewed. I could see myself moving there and –”
His rambling was cut short, when Buck reached over to close the laptop. Eddie looked up in confusion. Immediately, he tried opening the laptop back up. However, Buck’s hand stayed pressed over it.
“You could see yourself moving there and it would be nice ,” Buck finished. “Wouldn’t it?”
“Great. So we’re back to this again. Buck, why are you concerned over me calling the homes nice? Isn’t that a good thing?” Eddie pressed.
“Not when nice isn’t something you want,” Buck pressed back. “Eddie, you haven’t said anything more about any of these houses besides saying they are nice .”
“That’s not true,” Eddie petulantly refuted. “I’ve also said they’re either under or way over my budget. I have also said that one of the houses was weird because it had that communal backyard and I don’t even talk to my neighbors here despite knowing them for years. Why would I want to share a backyard with a stranger?”
He ended his sentence with an awkward laugh and a dry cough.
“But you’ve never said that you’ve wanted any of these houses,” Buck observed. “You’ve said a lot of them are nice, but you’ve never said you wanted to make an offer on them or anything.”
“Maybe it’s because I haven’t found the right one yet,” he lied.
It wasn’t like he was actively trying to find the home of his dreams. Whatever house he’d end up renting would be out of necessity more so than a deep liking to some random house in El Paso, Texas.
He needed to be near his son. He had already missed out on so many milestones in Christopher’s life and there was no indication that his son wanted him in his life anymore. If it weren’t for the sparse facetime calls and infrequent texts, he’d be sure his son was trying to further distance himself from him.
He knew his parents would love nothing more than to speed that along. That’s why he needed to be physically present in his son’s life. He couldn’t have his parents continuously overstepping. He had allowed that in his marriage. He didn’t want to give them that same permission over his son.
If he had to settle down in a house that held no memories, he would do that. His son's needs were always going to be situated far above his own. That’s what being a father meant. He had to be a provider and protector. He had failed on so many occasions and this was his last chance.
He truly believed it to be the last opportunity he would have to disprove everything his parents thought of him. Eddie believed that it was the last chance to restore the trust he had with his son. He had to make this step in a direction he was reluctant to drive toward.
Reluctant, but not unhappy.
How could he ever be unhappy when he was going back to his son?
However, in his happiness to reunite with his son he couldn’t help but to fill an immeasurable sense of weariness. His skin itched and sometimes it felt like he needed to get out of his body, when he thought about going back to El Paso.
Man, he didn’t want to go back home with his past barely etched into the walls of his childhood home. He didn’t want to leave LA with its memories felt in every shop on his way to work, in the loft at the station, and in the engine where there were as many moments of laughter as there were cries shared.
He didn’t want to leave LA with the people he had grown to call family.
He didn’t want to leave Buck.
It felt like he was trading one version of himself for another and neither were completely whole.
But he couldn’t dare say all of that to Buck because what would his response be to such a confession?
“The right one? Eddie, I don’t know if there’s exactly a right one with the way you’ve been going through this house search,” Buck shrugged. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were actively trying not to find the right one. After all, in the pool of nice homes it makes it that much more difficult to find exactly the right one. Right ?”
His tone seemed mocking and condescending.
But Eddie knew Buck. He knew his tone was anything, but those two descriptors. It read as fear and something Eddie wasn’t quite sure how to define.
He saw the way the lines in Buck’s face creased with barely concealed apprehension. He noticed the way his shoulders rose with tension. Then as if realizing his mistake, Buck grew agitated and forced his shoulders to drop.
“I’m trying to find the right house, Buck. It’s a process that I don’t want to rush,” Eddie admitted. “I’ve rushed into far too many decisions and this one needs to be smart. This is going to be the last house I ever move into. It’s the house that Christopher will hopefully call his own someday where we can finally air out all our grievances and heal.”
“You don’t want to rush this decision?” Buck laughed, standing up and grabbing his water bottle. “Now you want to talk about what you want?”
Eddie got up and followed him to the kitchen. His steps were angry and the sound of them echoed like thunder in the house.
“This has all been about what I want, Buck. I don’t want to rush this decision. It’s a big one,” Eddie reiterated, going to his refrigerator and grabbing another water bottle because the one of the coffee tables had grown warm. He needed a cold one to cool him down.
“You think moving to El Paso isn’t a rushed decision?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re always talking about what Christopher wants. Have you even told him about the move yet?” Buck asked as he settled his back against the kitchen counter, pressing his hip against the point that he always claimed hurt because it jutted out oddly. “How do you know that’s what he wants?”
Eddie stumbled back from the refrigerator and said, “I mentioned that I was looking at homes in El Paso. He didn’t say much against it. I figured that was enough. It has to be enough.”
He whispered the last part more to himself than to Buck.
“And what about what’s enough for you? Come on, Eddie. You’ve got to understand that this is a little concerning from my viewpoint, okay? I’m all in on trying to help you, but if this isn’t what you want how can you expect me to –”
“It is what I want,” Eddie cut in. “I keep telling you that.”
“Try saying that with a little more conviction,” Buck reasoned as he crossed his arms.
Eddie clenched his jaw and turned his face away from Buck. He bit the inside of the corner of his lip. Why was Buck making this difficult? Why was he asking him to deal with things Eddie had resolutely determined never to address? He turned his face back toward Buck, but let his eyes settle beyond his shoulder and toward the window behind him.
“What are you trying to say? That you don’t believe me? I’m trying, Buck. I’ve been trying so damn hard to make this easy,” Eddie brokenly rasped. “But you’re making things difficult every single time you question if this is what I want.”
He paused for a second, reflecting on what he said next before continuing.
“Why can’t you just trust me, when I say that this is what I want?” Eddie quietly pleaded as they stood from opposite ends of the kitchen.
“I trust you to know what you want…I just don’t trust that you’d ever act on it,” Buck plainly stated as his voice grew hoarse with words he didn’t dare say.
Something rattled in his chest and broke free from its cage. It sliced at his heart and tore it apart, hearing that Buck didn't believe that Eddie actually wanted to move back home. He needed someone to believe that this was a good decision. He needed Buck to place his trust in the lies that Eddie was only just now beginning to question.
He needed Buck to reaffirm his decision because if someone else repeated the lies Eddie voiced to himself, he could make them real…he could make them believable.
You’re running away again , a voice that oddly sounded like Eddie torturously exclaimed. All you ever do is run. Do you think that running back home to El Paso is any better? Think running back to home will absolve you from all of your wrongdoings?
Eddie shook his head trying to rid himself of that voice.
Look at you. Should’ve joined track or cross-country with how much you enjoy running. Oh, wait. Parents never spent much money on you for after-school activities, the voice darkly mocked. That was a privilege reserved for your sisters, right? If it weren’t for Pepa, you wouldn’t have had enough funds for baseball.
Eddie continued looking out the window, watching as the sun’s cool soft light transitioned into a warm gold like honey.
Thought you finally found a place to stay, but you messed that up. Run toward mistakes and then run away when it comes time to face the repercussions, the voice scornfully berated.
“I’m not running away,” he answered the voice in his head as he felt his throat constrict.
Eddie’s eyes shot to Buck’s as he realized that he answered out loud.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Eddie waved off, feeling an urge to jump out of his body the longer he stayed in the kitchen.
“It’s not nothing,” Buck frowned, stepping closer and then deciding to remain rooted in his spot. “Eddie, something is clearly bothering you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Buck laughed through his nose, but it held no amusement. “Sometimes I wonder if you think that in all the years of knowing you, I’d somehow forget to recognize when something is wrong.”
“If you can see something is wrong, you can just leave it be. Not everything has to be talked about, okay. Don’t need to worry about it or make it any of your concern,” Eddie said, allowing a smile to slip onto his face.
It didn’t belong on his face and it felt like his body was rejecting it because just as quickly as the corners of his lips rose they fell.
“I’m always going to worry,” Buck admitted. “Especially when I think something is wrong. I just wish…”
A breath of uncertainty.
A moment of silence.
“What?” Eddie whispered.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” Buck gently clarified.
“Why?” Eddie asked as though it was a simple question to answer.
“Because I want you to talk to me,” he pleaded, eyes growing round with anguish.
Eddie’s breath was stolen because immediately he was reminded of himself saying the same thing to Christopher, pleading with him to talk — to say anything. He knew how Christopher had felt in that moment and he wondered if Buck felt the same gut-wrenching sort of despair that brings clarity to you in a situation that appears hopeless.
He found himself internally begging that Buck’s feelings weren’t mirrored expressions of his own.
Because I want you to talk to me , he repeated the sentence once more in his head.
As Buck’s voice circled in his mind, he suddenly heard someone else in his head telling Christopher, “You are truly your father’s son.”
Because had his son learned this lesson from him?
Had he learned to hold back what he wanted to say?
Had he taught his son to be reserved with his emotions?
Had he taught his son to run?
Eddie grew sick as he realized his faults ran deeper than what he previously thought.
Christopher was following his own footsteps.
Eddie held back things he wanted to say.
Eddie was reserved with his emotions.
Eddie always ran.
Buck was right as he often always was.
Eddie continuously held back.
Eddie consistently remained reserved with his wants.
It was what he had been taught to do.
If people claimed that Christopher was his father’s son, Eddie was his own father’s shadow.
When Eddie was growing up, he was often praised as an obedient and reserved child. Adults would clamor around his parents, pleading for their expertise in discipline. His parents blossomed under the praise, taking Eddie’s innate and sometimes learned behavior as products of their good parenting.
His dad took pride in claims such as, “Eddie is truly his father’s son.”
Correction: Man of the house.
His mother bashfully agreed to statements claiming, “Eddie is so well-behaved.”
Correction: Quiet and meek.
The subtle messaging in their words was reserved for his parents, but he understood the implications.
He was not raised to be a child.
He was not raised to be a young boy whose cheeks grew flushed from laughter, becoming the shade of pink his dad swore boys never wore. From his dad he learned to hate the natural state of his cheeks drawing forth the colors of an El Paso kissed sunset.
He was not raised to be a young boy who played amongst the other school-aged children in the neighborhood. At the age of eight, his dad pulled him aside and told him that he had responsibilities to tend to in the house.
Laughter was swallowed down in the cracks of the sidewalk that he used to ride his bicycle on. Sprouts of grass rose out of those cracks. Sometimes when his dad wasn’t looking, Eddie would pick up the flowers that grew like weeds amongst the grass. He desperately tried to get as much out of the world he could, before his dad stole him away and told him to keep watch of his mom and sisters while he was traveling for work.
Inside his room with its strict enclosure of blank walls, Eddie sat still in the silence. His mom and his sisters would prattle around the house, voices growing incensed with laughter and freedom of which could never find its place in Eddie’s lungs.
It barely felt like Eddie belonged in this room. His presence wasn’t felt strongly within those four walls. It was funny because his room was such a stark contrast to his sisters’ rooms. Perhaps it was because their rooms were decorated.
His sisters had posters from their favorite musical artists. They had colorful curtains with flowers engraved onto the fabric. Their walls were painted with their favorite color. Their bedsheets changed with the growing seasons.
On the other hand, Eddie’s room was bare. Even his walls were a blank canvas. Eddie had asked whether he could paint his room this soft shade called Cornflower Blue. When it came time to get the paint at Home Depot, his dad was out of town. So he had to wait a few weeks. When it came time to paint his room, his parents were busy because Sophia had sprained her wrist.
Two cans of Cornflower Blue paint stayed in their garage for years. Eddie wondered if it would still be there, when he came back home.
He remembered asking for posters like the ones his sisters had. Sophia had given him one of her spare posters. It was of some singer that she really liked at the time and she had enough of his posters from her teen magazines. Eddie had liked his style and figured instead of throwing it away he’d keep it. He felt so proud tacking on the poster to his wall over his bed.
His dad didn’t like that. As soon as it was tacked up, his dad was removing the poster and ripping it up. He said that boys didn’t keep up posters of other men on their walls.
It was weird.
It was strange.
It was unacceptable.
And so he kept his room empty because he didn’t think he had permission to want anything else.
Oftentimes, as he found himself staring up at the blank ceilings he imagined how easy it would be to escape. Though he would later correct himself to believe that it’d be easier to run away. Escaping sounded too fraught with something that felt distressingly anguished.
Now he knew the benefits of keeping his room blank. There was nothing to hold onto. It made it so much easier to run away. However, he didn’t account for the way his home was more than the four walls of his bare bedroom.
It was making it harder to run, but it wasn’t making it impossible.
“Eddie,” Buck softly whispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.
“I should get back to looking at houses. I’m on a time crunch, you know?” he lightly joked as he turned back, not waiting for Buck to follow him back out into the living room.
He was good at running away.
It wasn’t a surprise that he’d be running away yet again after all these years.
No, that wasn’t surprising at all.
The hurt that followed and the sudden desire not to go back home to El Paso…
…that was surprising.
Realizing that leaving Buck physically, emotionally, and mentally pained him…
…that was damning.