Archive of Our Own

Eddie supposed he was lucky that his parents had a farm. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of life that anyone really dreamed of, but it provided him with plenty of wood and fruits and vegetables, which was enough to pursue his real dreams. 

Making art wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that would likely ever get him away from life on his family’s farm either, but it was certainly more fulfilling. He would take the scraps, each piece of firewood that wasn’t suitable, and take his old hunting knife to it. His abuelo had been an avid hunter, passing down his prized knife to his only grandson in hopes that he’d develop the same passion, but alas that was not the case. Instead Eddie carved little wooden statues with it.

His parents certainly thought it was a waste of time, but when he always got his chores done, there wasn’t exactly much they could do to dictate his free time. Besides, his little sisters loved the little wooden dolls he made for them. 

After sculpting and wood carving came painting as eventually he learned that the bark on the outside of the trees didn’t have to just be peeled off and discarded but rather, it was a beautiful surface for him to use his homemade paints on. He’d pick the unsuitable crops from their garden, mushy vegetables and sour fruits, and mash them up with some oils until he had a lovely little set of paints to use every time the wood supply was running too thin for carvings. 

There wasn’t much he could do in terms of subject matter, he’d already painted and sculpted each and every member of his family multiple times, carved little figures of woodland critters around their farm, painted every type of crop and flower they had ever grown, and even occasionally the clouds in the sky if he was really low on inspiration. 

But none of it captured him. He wasn’t captivated by his subjects, even if he loved them. Sure, he would carve dolls for his little sisters for the rest of his life if they asked him to, but that didn’t mean he would’ve been doing it out of passion. 

As he got older, he was trusted to venture out past the farm on more occasions. Well, trusted was maybe a bit too sympathetic, but as he reached his late teens his father finally started giving him delivery tasks, instructing him to take their wagons into the nearby city to sell produce at the local markets. Before long, they were matched with some wealthier clients and Eddie would be sent to do home deliveries to the large estates of noble families on the outskirts of the capital city.

Before long, he could confidently say that he was quite good. Sure, he wasn’t anything near the talent of those who carved beautiful marble statues of the gods and goddesses or painted the giant murals on church ceilings, but he was secure in his ability to capture people’s likenesses in sculpture and through paintings. 

After a little while, he even began to make some money from it. 

Market days were slow, there were plenty of shop stands taking away the crowd from his family’s produce, but it was all the better for Eddie to break out his little charcoal pieces and offer to sketch portraits of those who passed by. It was a popular novelty for children of noble families, travelers, or even just wealthy adults who thought it was a nice gimmick to give money to the poor farm boy for a drawing. Cheap charcoal portraits weren’t exactly anything that would get him out of the farmland and into one of the hilltop mansions he dreamed of, but it was better than living his life purely in service of the farm and his parents. 

Every time he sold produce or a drawing to a sweet family, he saw his dream right before his eyes, just out of his grasp. He knew it was only a matter of time before his parents arranged some sort of contract agreement that would likely gain their family a larger majority of the produce market in the area by marrying him off to some farmer’s daughter. 

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, he supposed. Women were beautiful, he could appreciate that fact both as a son and a brother, but also as an artist who often spent his time trying to capture that beauty in art. But he just…didn’t see himself experiencing love alongside marriage. 

He was fairly certain his parents didn’t quite love each other. His mother was the daughter of a traveling salesman from up north who wanted to do business in their hometown and before she knew it, she was getting married. One day the same would happen to him, and then his sisters, and then he’d be having children of his own to carry on the cycle, surely. 

And he just…didn’t want that. 

Sure, he would’ve loved to have a child, just…not in this world. Not in this life. He didn’t want to subject a future son or daughter to a life where their only options were transactional marriage, religious servitude, or farming. 

And a wife…sure, he would like to have a wife, but more than that, he would like to be loved. He wanted someone to worship, someone he could paint and sculpt, someone whose beauty he would eagerly pass onto their children. 

So he would just keep making charcoal portraits of strangers, pedaling citrus fruits, and letting his life pass by one day at a time. 

It wasn’t like each day was ever any different than the last. 

“Excuse me, sir?” A polished voice asked, causing Eddie to look up from his sketching. “You’re selling portraits?”

All at once, his whole world shook to the core. Finally, it all made sense. Everything the gods symbolized, the preachers revered, it all felt real. 

The man standing before him was every prayer he’d ever spoken come to life. 

With sunkissed skin, golden curls cascaded around his ears like a halo of sunlight. His eyes practically glowed like glittering ripples on the ocean, puddles of blue framed by wispy blond lashes. 

“Yes,” he eventually choked out, tossing his busywork aside. “Yes, sir, for three obol. Or complimentary with the purchase of produce.”

His heart was thoroughly lodged in his throat as he watched this beautiful angel examine the produce in his old family wagon cart. Suddenly everything that had never bothered him before now made his stomach churn. His clothes were surely too dirty, the wood of his market stand was much too rotten, surely there was dirt on his face and muck in his teeth—this incredible specimen before him shouldn’t even be anywhere near him. His clothes were clearly made of fine pressed linen in beautiful shades of reddish brown, his hair fluffy and clean, and even his face was clean shaven. 

“Well, I couldn’t say no to fresh pears,” the man smiled, proving once again that he was more beautiful than Eddie’s mind could even comprehend. “However, I’m much more interested in your portraits, I must admit. How long would it take for you to draw?”

Oh he was really going to do it.

“Not–not long at all,” Eddie assured him, reaching for his finest sheet of paper and brushing off the charcoal dust from his hands onto his trousers. “I have a stool if you’d like to sit?”

The man easily agreed, sitting down beside him as he made quick work of fixing his hair and adjusting his necktie. None of it was necessary, Eddie would’ve said something idiotic about how he was flawless just as he was, but alas he wasn’t trying to scare away a customer. He grabbed a fresh charcoal piece and quickly got to work. 

Swirling that dark powder to mimic his beautiful curls was perhaps tedious, but Eddie was committed to making them perfect. Capturing light tones like golden blond wasn’t easy with charcoal, but wasn’t going to let that stop him. The man chatted away about the pleasant spring weather, how he was glad to finally be able to wander around outdoors again after being shut away all winter, and Eddie found himself smiling all the while.

For starters, the man insisted on being called Buck. Apparently his real name was Evan, but he claimed that he was looking to break away from his family’s expectations and forge a new path for himself. It was quite admirable, Eddie genuinely believed, to stand up to one’s family and insist on knowing their path wasn’t your destiny. It was something he wished he could do himself, to break away from the expectation of farm labor and travel, to go be an apprentice for one of the greats, to actually make something of himself. To live on through his artwork long after he had died. 

And Buck seemed to have the right idea. 

As Eddie drew each meticulous detail of his face, Buck rambled on about how he wanted to study science at a real university, to break away from his parents’ beliefs and find something greater than himself. He had spent all winter in their estate’s library reading imported books from Italy and France, talking about new innovations in telescopes and the process of charting the stars. He was apparently fascinated with outer space and the stars, believing there was so much to behold out beyond their world that even though he knew nothing of the subject, even Eddie was compelled to agree with him. He had, admittedly, never even owned a real book. Sure, they had an old bible, but that wasn’t quite the same at all. 

For as long as he’d lived, he’d never been offered a chance to question how their world came to be, it had always just been a gift from the gods. And sure, maybe that would continue to be his belief, but apparently there was a whole legion of people studying to find new answers to that very question. 

“Do you believe in the gods, Eddie?” Buck asked, interrupting him from his work. He looked up and met soulful blue eyes, somehow not afraid of his answer bringing forth consequences no matter what he said. 

“I do,” he admitted. “I haven’t ever had anything else to believe in.”

Surprisingly, that answer seemed to please the other man, a wide smile stretching across his freckled cheeks. 

“I believe art is a wonderful thing to believe in,” Buck offered. “You can shape the world as you wish, capturing what you find to be beautiful. Artists are a bit like God, in that way.”

Oh. 

Well, he certainly hadn’t thought of it like that before. 

“I’m hardly an artist. I could never create something like those murals in the churches or temple statues of the gods,” Eddie couldn’t resist protesting. His work wasn’t anything special, he was just a man trying to make junk into something worth enough to feed his family. That was all. “See? Here, your portrait as requested.”

He handed over the piece of rice paper, nervously wiping the charcoal off of his sweaty palms and onto his stained clothes. Buck took the page with more gentleness than it probably deserved, his eyes widening as he scanned it over. 

“This is what I look like to you?” The blond asked hesitantly, awed and cautious. “You’re certain?”

Eddie could only nod. 

“There is a painting in the parlor of my home of the angel Gabriel,” he continued, clearing his throat and still not looking away from the drawing. “My mother used to tell me that she gave me the second name Gabriel in hopes that I would be gifted with even a fraction of his grace.” Buck paused, swallowing thickly “And somehow you have created a version of myself that is even more beautiful.”

Oh. 

“It was nothing of my doing,” Eddie blurted before he could think better of it. “If I were an artist, perhaps that could be true, but all I have done is capture your image as it is.”

The lovely pink shades that blossomed across his cheeks just ached to be painted, Eddie was practically itching to get back to his recently crafted pomegranate pigments that he knew would be a perfect match for that lovely rosiness, but he certainly didn’t want this moment to end anytime soon. 

“If I paid you to do so, would you come to my family’s estate and paint for me?” The man blurted. “We…we have plenty of room, I could even give you your own studio space and—we have a garden, if you prefer to paint outdoors! I could cook and I could procure much nicer paints for you to use and you could paint whatever you wish. Talents like yours should never be wasted selling produce.”

This simply couldn’t be happening. 

Surely it was all a dream. Perhaps this kind stranger was simply poking fun. 

“My family owns a large collection of artwork, they would happily agree as long as we could display some of your paintings around the estate,” Buck added eagerly. “At least…consider it? I promise, I will make it worthwhile, you’ll never want for anything. Just say the word and anything from the finest paints imported from France to sculptural grade marble from Turkey, it could all be yours.”

This man absolutely could not be real. 

It simply wasn’t possible. 

“Why me?” He asked timidly. “If…if you have everything you could possibly want, why not hire a genuine artist? Surely a trip to France yourself would garner better results than a measly produce farmer ever could.”

But Buck shook his head. 

“None of them are you,” the blond protested. “Sure, perhaps I could find a miraculous artist in Paris, but I’m certain that none of them would be able to capture the ethereal beauty of the gods within a mere mortal man like you have. With nothing more than crude supplies, you have made magic.” His eyes were so alight with wonder that Eddie could do nothing but believe him. “I may have more money that I could ever need, but there is no magic in my life, Eddie. Please…just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“We’ve only just met,” Eddie mumbled, still mostly in awe that their conversation was even happening. “How could you be so certain?”

As if Eddie hadn’t been certain that he would’ve happily drawn no one else for the rest of his life after he saw this man. 

“I just…am,” Buck smiled. “I don’t think I have the words to describe it.”

Well that was certainly something they could agree on. Eddie was certain he’d never be able to describe anything about him or their meeting even if he spent his whole life trying to do so. 

“My family, they…they wouldn’t be happy. I’m their only son, I couldn’t abandon them.” It was a weak excuse, he knew it, but it was something. It was true enough. “My father, he—”

“Do they even know what you’re capable of?” Buck interrupted. “They make you spend your days selling produce when you should be filling gallery halls.”

No. 

No, this simply couldn’t happen. He couldn’t keep entertaining this, he had to put an end to this before it was beyond his control. 

“Buck,” Eddie blurted, stopping the man’s spiel. “I couldn’t leave my family. I appreciate your generosity, truly, but I just…can’t.”

He’d expected a protest. He wouldn’t have batted an eye if Buck had begged on his knees, given the other’s level of enthusiasm, but alas he didn’t. 

He just nodded. 

“When will you return to the market next?” The blond asked simply. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head. 

“Not for three days. Produce doesn’t ripen quite that quickly, you know.”

It was never a good idea to poke fun at the upper class, especially not a customer, but before Eddie had a chance to panic Buck just grinned and began to laugh. 

“I will see you in three days, then.”

Sure you will. You’ll have forgotten me by the time you’ve walked home. 

Eddie shamelessly tried to savor the sight of Buck walking away with his portrait in hand, held proudly visible to anyone who saw him. Even if he never returned, Eddie was certain he’d never forget him. In fact, he’d pulled out his knife and a piece of wood he’d stashed away in the cart and began carving before the man was even out of sight. 

Eddie supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when he arrived back at the market square in three days' time and found a familiar mop of sandy blond hair waiting for him in his usual spot. There on the pedestal of the large fountain in the middle of the square, sat Buck with a book in his lap and a satchel hanging from his shoulder. He was just as entrancing to behold as the last time they’d met, the kind of ethereal beauty that had left Eddie restless for days with the urge to draw and sculpt and do anything else he could think of to capture his beauty. 

And the way he smiled when he heard the rattling of the wagon wheels and saw Eddie approaching…well that sight would certainly be the centerpiece of his next drawing. 

“You came back,” Eddie remarked as the man darted to his side, assisting him with pulling the wagon into place. 

Buck still hadn’t stopped smiling, abandoning his book and satchel on the stoop where he’d been sitting. 

“Of course I did,” he beamed. “If you won’t let me give you an art studio, I’m just going to keep coming back and buying your drawings.”

Please, gods, I’m not strong enough to resist this man.

“Oh, are you now?” He rolled his eyes, continuing to set up his stand. “Do you not have other business to attend to? I always assumed wealthy folk still had jobs like the rest of us, but since you’re sitting here waiting for me…”

“Speak for yourself! I’m here to work,” Buck scoffed, gesturing up and down at his outfit. “Obviously I will be charming the customers and you, my dear, will sit there and paint.”

His abuelo would be rolling in his grave if he saw Eddie bending at the whim of this man who was everything his family claimed to hate, but alas. He couldn’t stop himself from beaming. 

“Will I now?” He smirked, glancing skeptically at Buck’s approximation of a working man’s uniform. 

Eddie had to admit, it was quite endearing. Linen might’ve been a common choice for a warm, sunny day, but the waistcoat and necktie he was wearing was entirely uncharacteristic of the market crowd. 

“Well, if you check in my satchel, I think you’ll be quite pleased with my idea,” Buck said with a cheeky grin that seeped into every word. “Go on, dear, don’t be shy.”

A gift?

He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had actually given him a gift. 

Knowing there was no use arguing, Eddie just sat in Buck’s previous spot and opened the leather pouch, revealing a wooden clamshell box. He glanced up at the taller man, hesitant to go further, but upon seeing Buck’s excitement, he flipped the latch.

No. No, this was too much.

He couldn’t possibly accept it. 

“You…how did you find these?” Eddie spoke breathlessly, unable to look away from the full set of little metal pans of paint. These weren’t just paints, they were priceless. He’d caught glimpses of similar paint sets from traveling artists commissioned to paint their city’s murals.

Buck just shrugged, rocking his weight back and forth from his heels to his toes. 

“My father, he owns a small fleet of shipping vessels,” he explained shyly. “He always tries to appease my sister and I with gifts when he’s gone traveling most of the year and he brought her these from Florence, but she was never very fond of painting.”

It simply couldn’t be real. 

“I couldn’t accept these,” Eddie forced himself to choke out, closing the box and pushing it back into the satchel. “You’re very kind, more so than I deserve, but I could never repay you for such a gift as this.”

His family had nothing, the most valuable possessions they had were stashed in a box under the floorboards of their home—land documentation and birth certificates and the storage boxes for his parents’ old steel wedding bands.

Nothing that would come close to being considered valuable to a man who had everything. 

“Have you gone mad?” The blond scoffed with a fond eye roll. “Of course I would never ask for anything in return. That’s the purpose of a gift, my dear. The only thing I could wish for in return is to see your talents flourish.”

“You just…want me to paint for you?” He asked hesitantly, instinctively reaching for the box as if he couldn’t let it out of his sight for long. “That’s all?”

Only Buck just shook his head, curls bouncing.

“Not for me,” the older man insisted. “I want you to paint. Nothing more.”

“But would you let me?” Eddie simply couldn’t resist pushing. “Would you let me paint for you? Even just this once, tell me anything you wish to see and I will paint for you.”

Somehow, despite everything he seemingly managed to do and say without batting an eye, Buck flushed pink at the request, ducking his head with a shy smile. 

“Anything I wish?” He repeated, childlike wonder alight in his gaze. “Even you?”

Eddie probably should’ve seen that coming. 

“Even you,” the painter replied with a sly smile. “Do you perhaps have a favorite place? A favorite view of the ocean? Maybe a certain type of bird or flower?”

A hint of recognition seemed to spark across his face. 

“Dianthus,” Buck blurted out in a rush. “You’ve seen them surely, the small clusters of white blossoms on the outskirts of the forest.” Ah, yes. It was no surprise that Buck knew far more flora than he did. “They’re my favorites. My sister taught me to weave crowns out of their stems when we were children, it…it was one of my favorite memories.”

He could practically see it in his mind’s eye, Buck as a young boy sitting in the tall grass, a crown of small white blossoms around his head like a ring of diamonds. 

“Could I paint you like that?” Eddie asked, inspiration already gnawing at him. “With a crown of dianthus flowers.”

Somehow Buck didn’t seem to have expected that, his cherry red lips parting just a bit in shock, before a hesitant smile reappeared and he nodded. 

“If that would make you happy, then of course,” he agreed. “You truly wish to paint me?”

As if that was even a question. 

“I think you might be the most beautiful sight I’ve found thus far.”

Well, at least it was true even if he hadn’t meant to simply blurt it out. 

“The day I first laid eyes on you, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep until I’d drawn you four times more.”

Those wide blue eyes, far truer than the seas, welled up with tears and Eddie could’ve sworn his hands ached with the urge to capture the shimmering glint on his page. 

“I’m hardly anything special,” Buck mumbled, tucking some hair behind his ears. “I can’t help but wonder if it might be considered an affront to the gods to worship a mortal such as this.”

Mere days after he laid eyes on this man and the God-fearing Edmundo Diaz that his parents had raised him to be was no more. 

He twirled one of the carved wooden paint brushes in his hand, a smile of his own threatening to blossom.

“Then I will paint you in Hades as well.”

The first day since he left his family’s farm, Eddie woke up to sun warming his skin. There were no longer rows and rows of fruit trees blocking the daylight from reaching him, he was free. Soft linen blankets cradled his body, the aches and pains he hadn’t even realized he’d had were gone. 

He opened his eyes to a whole new world. 

The walls were mostly bare. Buck had insisted he could paint them if he wished. Pallets and crates lined each and every wall, no doubt full of sculpture materials and canvas rolls and more precious paints than he had ever seen. Even though the world around him was largely dull, cluttered and colorless, it somehow still felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the lively nature he used to live with. 

Sure, the fruit trees had been beautiful as they blossomed in the spring, a gift from the gods and goddesses to mankind, and yet. His life had been devoid of true color. The monotony had sucked the precious rarity out of nature’s wonders, leaving him desperately clinging to any source of beauty he could create. 

And now the world was open to him. 

A blank canvas for him to shape into the exact sort of beauty he desired. 

All because he found an angel among men. 

Evan Buckley would never lose his precious rarity, that Eddie could be certain of. No amount of monotony could steal even an ounce of beauty from him. That was why he finally agreed, in the end. After sleepless nights spent unable to get that shining smile out of his mind without putting it to paper, he knew there was no use resisting the cosmic urge he felt pulling them together. 

Perhaps Buck had been right that very first day. 

Now he had someone who thought he was valuable. Who marveled at the things he could do, celebrated them even. 

He found a man who invited him into his home and let him fill it with life however he saw fit. 

A true miracle among mere mortals. 

As he wandered the silent halls, he continued noticing things he hadn’t seen when he first entered. Three months worth of paintings and charcoal sketches, all framed with gilded wood and displayed proudly. Even when Eddie would arrive to see him every few days armed with a stack of sketches that he’d done in the days since their last meeting, he’d never quite considered where they would end up when Buck brought them home. 

He quickly learned that each and every one was given its rightful place, carefully considered and adorned. Sure, it had been long since anyone else had lived there besides Buck and the occasional servant coming to tidy up the place. His mother and father preferred to stay away from the estate as much as possible, traveling the Mediterranean until they couldn’t avoid returning any longer. 

There was evidence of more, of a lively home, but somehow it didn’t seem to bother the older man much anymore. He had plans for them, raving about how he would display Eddie’s statues in their garden, how lovely a mural would look in the foyer, and dozens of little projects that seemed so far beyond Eddie’s abilities that he couldn’t help but shy away from the idea. Sure, Buck had spent months insisting and proving that he truly believed in Eddie’s talents. Nothing made that more clear than inviting him to live at his estate and create artwork full time. 

And yet, it seemed so surreal, so out of the realm of any possibility that he had seen for his life, that Eddie found himself covered in pinch marks from reminding himself so often. 

But he had to start somewhere. 

He adorned a fresh khiton, familiarly adorned with charcoal marks from years of wear and now accompanied by a few more recent paint stains. For once in his life, he wouldn’t have to dress as if he were going anywhere at all. He could be contentedly dressed to work and nothing more. 

He found his companion in the sunroom.

Buck was stretched out on a large chaise, his body mostly bare aside from a thin linen piece of fabric covering his waist. If he had to guess, he’d say it looked similar to the old exomis that his young cousins would wear in the summertime, frayed and thinning and barely covering anything at all, yet they refused to replace it because it was so refreshingly cool on hot days. He was easily miles and miles of golden skin, dotted with freckles in small clusters, and the man basked in the sunlight as if it were glowing just for him. His face was just barely shielded from the light by the book held in his hand, positioned just so as to cast a shadow over his face. 

And Eddie could just have this now. He could stand there in the doorway and see. 

“Good morning,” he reluctantly spoke up, once the urge to see that beautiful smile became too powerful to resist. “Have you been awake for long?”

Buck visibly lit up as he saw Eddie in the doorway, sitting up right away as he set his book down on the cushion beside him. 

“Hi,” Buck said through a breathless exhale. “How was your sleep?”

“Better than I’ve ever had.”

Which was somehow still an understatement. 

“Are you hungry? I could cook something for you,” the blond offered eagerly. “I bought fresh figs and oranges from the market.”

The only thing Eddie could bring himself to do was nod, flustered from head to toe as the excited man took him by the arm and led him down the corridor towards the kitchen. Eddie was practically placed onto a stool as Buck got to work.

“Is porridge with fruit alright?” He asked as if Eddie would possibly say otherwise. He’d lived his whole life on stale bread and overripe fruit for every breakfast he’d ever had. An actual warm meal was already a luxury. 

“You’ve already welcomed me into your home,” Eddie smiled shyly, separating a small orange into slices. “If you offered me scraps from your garbage I’d still happily eat them.”

As if to prove his point, he held out the first slice of orange and fed it to the taller man, who accepted the juicy offering with a contented sigh. 

“Well, that’s why you’re here,” Buck countered, remnants of juice droplets on his lips. “Because you deserve a warm bowl of porridge every morning and I’m going to give it to you.”

Just like that, a steaming clay bowl was placed on the table in front of him, adorned with little fig slices arranged in the shape of a flower. Buck teetered on his feet as if waiting for Eddie’s approval.

“Thank you,” he choked out, eyes welling up from the sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture. It was something so simple, so mundane, and yet it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him just because they thought he deserved it. “It’s…it’s perfect.”

Buck’s smile was, as always, blindingly beautiful.

“Would you come sit in the sunroom with me to eat?” He requested, holding his hand out for Eddie to accept. “I could read to you. I’ve been reading this study on horticulture from the east and I think I might be able to try cultivating real sugarcane come next summer, isn’t that fascinating?”
Eddie never did answer his initial question as he silently collected his bowl and spoon, following Buck back to the sunroom with a fond smile, trying his best to follow the older man’s raving about soil mineral content and building a greenhouse.

Buck didn’t seem to question anything when he chose the seat across from the chaise, producing the art supplies that he’d left there before they’d ventured off to the kitchen. A small tabletop easel that Buck had provided for him fit perfectly on the low table between them, propping up his paper as Eddie began to sketch a rough outline of the scene he had memorized earlier. Buck with his endlessly long limbs and freckled skin, stretched out across his chaise in the morning sunshine. 

Embarrassingly, he didn’t quite notice when Buck moved to sit beside him. He was too lost in his daydream, unable to stop until he had recreated the miraculous sight onto his page. 

At least, he didn’t notice until Buck’s head hit his shoulder. 

“You look like you belong here,” Buck’s closeness startled him out of his focus. Luckily Eddie hadn’t had his charcoal in hand at the time, seeing as he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

The man didn’t move an inch from where he was sitting with his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, but he had been so lost in their little bubble that it had still somehow startled him when the silence was broken. 

“It’s a good thing, you know,” the blond added with a fond smile. “I can’t describe how pleased I am to finally have you here with me.”

Eddie was ready to simply melt into the warmth radiating from the strong, broad chest behind him.

“But you have to eat, darling. I didn’t cook just to sit by and let you starve yourself,” he concluded with a teasing smile. “If you can’t resist your work long enough to have a proper meal, then at least allow me to feed you.”

Before Eddie even had a chance to turn his head, there was a spoon held in front of his face. Gods above, this man couldn’t be testing his restraint any harder. 

There was no use not accepting the spoonful, resuming his process of blocking out the shapes of where the ripples in his muscles left shadows on his skin. 

“Is that really what I looked like?” Buck’s voice spoke up again after a stretch of silence filled with nothing but the sound of Eddie’s charcoal pencil scratching across the page and the faint scoops Buck made with each spoonful he fed to the other. “When you saw me this morning?”

His gentle whisper sent shivers down Eddie’s spine, reigniting the memory. 

“It will be,” he answered. “I want to remember it forever.”

For however long he was lucky enough to live there, he would cherish the memory of that very first sight. Buck just hummed, knocking their heads together.

“You truly have no idea why I draw you so often, do you?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask. It was a question he pondered on many occasions in the months since they’d met. No matter how many times Eddie continued to sketch or paint or sculpt him, Buck always seemed surprised. “Have I not made my fondness for you clear enough?”

The blond curls continued to tickle his neck as the man nuzzled in closer, his strong arms holding tight.

“Sometimes I expect it to wear off,” Buck confessed, mumbling into his ear. “That you’ll tire of me eventually.”

Maybe he didn’t have a way of truly promising anything, but Eddie had never been so certain of anything he’d ever felt in his life. 

“Perhaps not,” he countered with a fond smile. “I certainly don’t wish to.” Again, it was far beyond an understatement, but it seemed to make Buck smile which was all he really wanted. “I can’t, in good conscience, even call you my muse. You’re far more important than that.”

Because muses weren’t like Buck. Muses were like pretty little dolls for an artist to rearrange however they liked, but not Buck. If anything, Eddie was the one who felt utterly rearranged, reconfigured every time he saw the man, as if every fragment of his soul was hardwired to be drawn to him. 

“Your muse, hmm?” Buck chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Is that just your fancy, poetic way of saying you think I’m pretty?”

“You could say that,” he confessed. There was no use trying to pretend he didn’t, after all. “Although, I hardly think that’s a just comparison. I think songbirds are pretty too but you’ll never see me fill a garden with statues of them simply because they’re pretty.” He turned, so close that he could feel their noses brush. “I don’t even know how to tell you how beautiful you are. That’s what the paintings are for. It’s the only way I could even try to make the rest of the world understand what I see in you.”

If he could only capture the enchanting glimmer of those icy blue eyes, he would feel like he’d given a gift to the world. Years in the future, long after they had both died, his incredible beauty would live on. People would be able to understand why Eddie simply couldn’t resist being drawn to him. 

“Then perhaps I can learn to believe you,” Buck smiled softly, peony pink blush coating his cheeks. “And see myself how you see me.”

Yes. 

That would be more precious than anything. He couldn’t possibly care about anyone else ever seeing his artwork as long as Buck did. He was the only person who ever valued it in life, therefore why should he care what anyone thought about his work in death? No, it was all for Buck. For them, to capture their life. So that the all-encompassing adoration he felt would never die. 

Three days later, when Eddie’s drawing had finally neared completion after some trial and error with the new oil pastels Buck had gifted him, he found himself craving more. 

“It’s just not… enough,” he insisted stubbornly, frowning at his easel as Buck stood behind him, holding him by the shoulders. “It’s missing something, can’t you see it?”

Buck just laughed fondly, shaking his head. 

“No, darling, I’m afraid I can’t,” the blond sighed. “As far as I’m concerned, it was perfect the moment you started.”

Stupid Buck and his stupid compliments. If only he didn’t just support him all the time, then maybe he could figure out what was wrong with the drawing and why he just couldn’t stop changing things. 

“It just isn’t right,” he huffed. “Your face didn’t look like that. I swore I committed it to memory but I must’ve forgotten it because no matter what I do, it just—”

Buck interrupted him, turning Eddie’s face to look at him.

“You’ve been staring at this page for days,” the older man chided. “Are you sure the answer isn’t simply taking a break? I’ll make you some tea if you agree to give yourself some grace.”

It was stupid and childish to pout over something so sweet, but he simply couldn’t resist. This whole new world was still so surreal, Buck had single handedly given him access to his wildest dreams and now that he was free to create anything he wished, Eddie just couldn’t stop. Morning, noon, and night he was stood at his easel. Buck wasn’t exaggerating about that. 

“How can I resist when you’ve given me such incredible gifts,” he countered, putting on his best pleading face. “I have yet to even start sculpting anything.”

A true testament to his fondness, Buck just rolled his eyes and manhandled Eddie until he turned away from the painting. 

“If you won’t let yourself rest for my sake, then perhaps what you need is a fresh start,” the blond claimed. “If you’re so convinced there’s something you’ve missed then be my guest, pick apart my face until you find it. Or tell me what it is you remember and I’ll do my best to recreate it for you.”

Hmm. That could work. 

“You were reading your book,” he started. “It was early, you looked almost as if you were still half asleep. I think some drool was still dried on your cheek.” Buck flushed a little, ducking his head sheepishly. “You looked so soft. Like an angel.”

And somehow it worked. Buck looked up at him with wide, wondrous eyes, and there it was. 

There was that same look that he’d seen their first morning together. Looking at him as if Eddie was the one heaven-sent. 

“Just like that,” he mumbled dazedly, enraptured by the sheer fondness spilling out of him. “My angel.”

His every pore and strand of hair was as if it had been woven by the gods themselves. Despite the halls of gilded frames surrounding Eddie’s paintings and drawings, the true artwork was those cerulean blue eyes and the wisps of golden lashes fluttering around them. 

“Even in five hundred years time, when you and I are long gone, I hope that people see the portraits I’ve made of you and know that you were precious to me.” His hand reached up to curl around the nape of Buck’s neck, fingers weaving through the soft curls. “They’ll know that I adored you.”

He had all but asked for it when Buck’s hands gripped him by the waist and pulled him close until their lips met in a barely-there kiss. 

No, that simply wouldn’t do.
“At least let me kiss you the way that you deserve,” Eddie mumbled into the space between their lips. “Something worth living forever.”

Buck had already insisted on multiple occasions that he was more than willing to give. He’d offered up his life, his home, his money—all of it just for Eddie. It was only fair that he allowed Eddie to give him something in return. 

When he wasn’t stunned into hesitance, Buck kissed like a man starved. If he hadn’t already made it clear in the time they’d spent together, there would’ve been no denying just how badly he craved the closeness and gentle touch of a companion who truly cared for him. There was no one loving him, no one but Eddie there to nurture that darling joy, which was truly the most devastating discovery of all. So if he was willing to let Eddie adore him, then he would. He would cherish him and worship him and never let himself forget just how priceless it was to even be close to him. 

Even as they reluctantly separated, Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off the man. He hadn’t thought it was even possible for Buck to look even more angelic and yet, there he was. Plump lips swollen red with big blue eyes gone soft and hazy. 

“I need to paint you,” he blurted before he could form a thought any more coherent than that. 

Luckily Buck was, well, Buck, and simply lit up with laughter, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Indeed you do, my dear,” the blond nodded. “You need to paint me for the rest of our lives.”

It wasn’t until the end of their first year together that Eddie finished his first statue. Made of fine imported marble, it was his proudest creation to date. There, positioned in the center of a large cluster of rose bushes, was his Buck. Painstakingly recreated in stone was his towering form, draped in flowing cloth, with a rose in his gentle hands. A perfect adornment to their garden, his most beautiful flower. 

Just as he imagined, it was irresistible to him. Eddie found himself sketching out in the garden far more frequently, content to bask in the shadow of his creation. Any time he doubted whether he was cut out for this, whether he was talented enough to capture the stunning visage of such a miraculous man, he would just…look at it. He could look at the delicate curls that he’d spent weeks carving out, he could look at the plush texture of his skin, rippled with muscles and bones. This wasn’t his Buck, but it was perhaps as close as he would ever get. And perhaps if someone else were to witness that sculpture, they would understand why Eddie was so captivated by him. 

Once the first sculpture was completed, he couldn’t stop himself. Three months later there was a bust and then after that, his biggest piece yet. 

He’d never put himself into his work before. Not in a literal sense. He didn’t care much for self portraits, never wanted to look at his own reflection long enough to draw himself, but with Buck…he just needed something more. 

Buck was nothing short of saintly for putting up with him the way that he always did. Whenever Eddie announced some ridiculous burst of inspiration, he played along happily, content to sit and chat about whatever was on his mind while Eddie went about capturing his image. And when Eddie explained that he wanted to sculpt them together…well, saying that Buck jumped at the opportunity to get started was an understatement. 

There was plenty of time spent trying to figure out what their actual pose would be. Buck very enthusiastically insisted they should be making love, which Eddie did genuinely consider for a little while, but his devotion to Buck went so far beyond just romantic or sexual love. He was already certain that Buck had been destined to be his, gifted to him by the gods, but he needed to make sure that he was capturing how he felt through his pieces. 

In the end, he couldn’t force it. They hadn’t forced a single step thus far, he should’ve known better. Falling in love with Buck wasn’t something he did on purpose, it wasn’t something he planned, it just came to be. Naturally.

Because that was what it was, after all. 

Love. 

That was what he felt when he looked out the window and saw Buck out in the garden. It wasn’t late, the sun hadn’t quite begun to set yet, but there he was. Holding a candle despite the fact that it wasn’t yet dark enough to need one, and standing in front of the statue of himself. Not long after he finished it, it became Eddie’s temple. A place he could look to when he craved the feeling of being blessed with such all-encompassing love and adoration. 

And perhaps Buck felt it too, standing there in the late afternoon sun, looking up at himself on a pedestal, arms wrapped around himself as if he could become one with the marble. As if he could simply transport himself back to that moment, wrapped in the euphoria of their new life together. The golden light of the small flame flickered across the ripples of the stone, accentuating every dip and swell of muscles and soft skin. 

Eddie hadn’t even considered how badly he wanted that. To see Buck adore himself the way Eddie did. To look up at this piece of artwork crafted in his image and understand why it existed and who it was for. Because it would only ever be for them. That was what Eddie understood the more and more he painted and sculpted and captured the visage of his beloved. 

Each piece was a testament to their love. An altar worshiping the greatest gift the gods had ever bestowed. 

Eddie was walking towards him before a second thought even crossed his mind. His arms slid around the taller man’s waist, chin tucking over his shoulder as Buck immediately melted into his touch. 

“Can you see how beautiful you are?” He mumbled, looking up at his creation. “My very own temple, for the only god I care to kneel for.”

Buck’s gentle laugh reverberated through his chest and Eddie just couldn’t resist the urge to cling to him. His soft form pliant and warm underneath his hands, opening up more delicately than a blossoming flower. 

“I’ve always known your work was beautiful,” Buck replied, draping his own arms over Eddie’s. “Some days I can just admire how lovely they are, but other days…” He trailed off, tilting his head back to lean against the other’s. “Other times I can’t help but know that it’s me. That you’ve created this monument in my image.”

Eddie just nodded, his nose pressed into the soft junction of Buck’s shoulder. 

“I never believed I would have something like this. That someone would want to ensure I was remembered,” he continued. “I was prepared to spend the rest of my life invisible, faded into the background of my parents’ lives. Fated to end up like my sister, sent away to marry a woman I’ll never love in a place that will never be my home.” Buck’s mentions of his sister were few and far between but Eddie didn’t need more than that to know that it made his lover ache inside to know his sister would likely never come back to him. That the early years of their lives together would be gone forever. “Sometimes I like to look at him and wonder if Maddie would recognize him.”

As if to break Eddie’s heart further, he reached out to the statue, his hand grazing the cold, unflinching stone ones. The similarity was undeniable like this, seeing the same rippling veins and dimpled skin side-by-side as he traced his hand along the long lines of his own form. 

“It was never about what you look like,” Eddie assured him, pressing a featherlight kiss to the small space behind his ear. “You have always been magnificent.”

Watching as Buck’s hand moved across the planes of the statue, Eddie did his best to mirror it, warm skin meeting as his hand slid under the thin layers of linen cloth, caressing the planes of his chest. 

This. This was what he needed to sculpt. The two of them together, just… existing. Capturing that closeness, the tender touches, the adoration. 

If there was anything that deserved to live on once they were long gone, it was that moment. The embrace which said so much more than love. 

“I think she would have loved you,” Buck spoke after a long stretch of silent touches. “She would have loved the way that you love me.”

He sure hoped so. While he knew it would be unlikely that he would ever have the pleasure of meeting the woman who did more to raise the man he loved than any effort their parents could’ve made, he still felt so incredibly grateful just to be given the sentiment. 

“I wish I could assure her that you will always be cared for,” he added with a kiss across the man’s brow. “That there will never come a day where you are not adored with every piece of my soul.”

At that, Buck turned in his arms, now looking down at Eddie like a perfect mirror of the statue behind him. 

“Perhaps in another life,” the blond smiled sadly. “Perhaps in another life, we could love each other again and again until the end of time. And the world will see us and know that our love has been forged by the gods, that nothing will ever break it.”

His beautiful, grandiose Buck, with his wild ideas and his incredible heart. 

“Oh, how I adore you,” Eddie mumbled without even meaning to, surging up on his toes to seal their lips in a kiss and then another, peppering affection into every pore. “Yes, darling, we will love each other until the world is no more. Over and over and over again.”

🕊️

Eddie Diaz always felt out of place in museums. 

Perhaps he was just not cut out for art, but there was no pretending. Even so, he volunteered to chaperone every one of his son’s field trips that he could attend and just because they were going to an art museum didn’t mean he was going to change that any time soon. Besides, Buck would be there with them, surely much more capable of engaging in Chris’ interest than his father could. Buck always seemed to be able to make something phenomenal out of even the most mundane activities. He had stories, had childlike wonder, he had it all. It was truly no surprise that the entire school board and PTA adored him. 

But Eddie was the first. 

He would always be the first. 

“Oh come on, Eds, you seriously didn’t have a greek mythology phase as a kid?” Buck pestered him with a grin as they traversed the museum. “Those stories are classic, you’ve got to know at least some.”

He rolled his eyes with a fond smile, letting himself be dragged along to any and all pieces that Buck wanted a closer look at. 

“Look at this one—you at least know the story of Icarus don’t you?” The blond eagerly insisted. “The wax wings, the whole ‘don’t fly too close to the sun’ thing?”

Okay, sure, maybe he did retain a little bit of art history from school, but not much.
“I wasn't that bad of a student you know,” Eddie fired back with a fond eye roll. “Just because I can’t keep all these facts straight like you can doesn’t mean I don’t know Icarus.”

Pleased, Buck continued rattling off stories of the various other pieces they had on display. They were admittedly lucky to live in LA where there were so many fantastic museums to visit, many of which had some of the most famous pieces of history known to mankind. The exhibit they were currently in had been advertised with many pieces being on loan from a museum somewhere in Europe, Eddie hadn’t paid too much attention given the fact that he knew Buck would tell him everything he needed to know as they went. Many of the pieces had recently been released from a private collection, apparently, and this was the largest museum setting that they’d ever been shown in, which he supposed was quite exciting. Chris and his history class were learning about ancient Greece and Rome from their teacher while the chaperones explored the current room, occupying themselves until the kids were free to explore as well and Eddie and Buck would be no doubt flagged down by their middle schooler. 

However, Eddie could’ve sworn he had only been watching Chris for a few moments when he looked up and found Buck no longer beside him. There weren’t exactly many places he could go, but still. He was out of his depth and a little nervous without his emotional support codependent best friend. 

And of course it was a stupid museum so he couldn’t start calling out his name and trying to get his attention, dammit. 

Luckily he only had to look stupid and lost for a few seconds before he noticed a familiar mop of blond curls and darted embarrassingly fast over to him. 

He didn’t even think to look at the statue Buck was so fixated on, more so relieved to not be floundering on his own anymore, but when he tried to get the other man’s attention and found Buck to be utterly transfixed by the sight, he had to see what the fuss was about. 

And he still didn’t quite get it at first. 

From his perspective, it was a beautiful statue. It looked like two men in some sort of embrace, clinging to each other maybe. 

But Buck…Buck was utterly entranced by it. 

“Look at them, Eddie,” he finally spoke after a few uncomfortable minutes where Eddie fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to do. “Can you believe it?”

He looked at the statue again. Yes, he could in fact believe it. 

“It’s beautiful,” Eddie mumbled, feeling a bit lost in what Buck wanted from him. 

The latter shook his head, grabbing Eddie’s arm and pulling it around his own waist. 

“No, look at them,” he repeated, this time with more insistence. “Don’t you feel that?”
There, with his arm tight around Buck’s waist and his chin peeking over his shoulder, it finally started to make sense. He looked, really looked, at it. 

The familiar rippling muscles and dimpled skin, soft curls hanging over a strong brow. Thick, full lips stretched in a soft, adoring smile. Gentle hands, clasped tight around the man holding him. 

The man who stood just slightly shorter. With big round eyes peering up at his companion as if the secrets to happiness could be found within him. Clinging as if neither of them ever wanted to let go. 

But that wasn’t the thing that sold him, no.

It was the pose. 

The taller man’s head was bowed, cocked slightly in that familiar boyish way. Endearingly soft and careening towards the smaller, whose lips were pressed firmly to his brow. 

Oh. 

“Yeah,” Eddie choked out, his hands instinctively tightening his grip and pulling the older man closer to him. “Yeah, I feel it.”

He couldn’t help but remember something Buck had told him once. Deep into his phase of myths and legends from around the world, he had proclaimed the theory that some believed birthmarks were the symbol of where your past lover most often kissed you. And that he thought it was a sweet idea, musing that only his sister had ever kissed him on his birthmark but that maybe someone else would one day.

Maybe there was some truth to it. 

Maybe there was something real in these marble bodies, nearly identical to them down to each freckle and eyelash.

Maybe sometime long, long ago, he had gotten his wish. 

Maybe they had loved each other just the same in every lifetime.