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Los Angeles wasn’t exactly a winter wonderland, but the city had its own kind of holiday magic. Strings of lights adorned the palm trees, and the warm December air carried the faint scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts from pop-up stands. Buck’s loft was no exception, glowing softly with the twinkle of white lights he’d carefully hung the week before. The garland draped over the railing, the tiny, slightly crooked tree in the corner, and the cinnamon-scented candles on the coffee table filled the space with a cozy warmth.
The loft wasn’t lonely, but it was quiet. Tommy stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside. He was still as he stared out at the glowing expanse of Los Angeles, one hand in his pocket, the other resting against the window frame. Buck sat on the couch behind him, pretending to read the book in his hands. His eyes skimmed the same sentence for the third time, but his focus kept drifting to Tommy.
“I didn’t think I’d miss the holidays so much,” Tommy said suddenly, his voice breaking the soft hum of the city beyond. He didn’t turn around, his eyes still on the view. “Back when I was keeping everyone at arm’s length, this time of year didn’t mean much. It just felt… heavy.”
The vulnerability in Tommy’s tone pulled Buck’s attention fully. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, but let the words hang in the air for a moment. Tommy looked different now than he had many times before—more open, but also more fragile. There was an uncertainty in his posture that Buck wasn’t used to seeing. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt untucked, and for a moment, Buck felt like he was seeing the real Tommy—unguarded and raw.
Buck finally broke the silence. “I get that,” he admitted. “For a long time, Christmas was just another day. My parents weren’t exactly the warm, festive type, it was all sterile and pretend, and after Maddie left, it was just me. I didn’t bother decorating or anything. Just worked through it. Easier than feeling…”
“Alone,” Tommy finished for him, finally turning around. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a weight that made Buck’s chest ache.
“Yeah,” Buck said softly.
Tommy crossed the room and sat beside Buck on the couch, keeping a cautious distance but close enough that their knees brushed. He gestured toward the decorations around the loft, the garland and the tree. “But you decorate now,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile.
Buck shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Last year, Christopher guilted me into it. The kid loves Christmas, and Eddie’s all about tradition for him. It felt… nice, you know? To do something for someone else. It kind of stuck.”
Tommy nodded, his gaze softening at the mention of Christopher and Eddie. “I’m glad you had them. They’re good people.”
“I’m glad I had them too,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “But it’s different this year. Eddie’s not here, and I wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort, you know?” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “But then…” His words trailed off, catching in his throat.
“Then?” Tommy prompted, leaning in slightly, his eyes searching Buck’s face.
Buck’s gaze dropped to his hands, and for a moment, he couldn’t look at Tommy. “Then you showed up. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe this holiday season didn’t have to be about what’s missing.”
Tommy’s breath caught, the weight of Buck’s confession settling between them. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, but then he reached out, resting a hand on Buck’s knee. “Evan… I don’t deserve the grace you’ve given me. But I want you to know—I’m here. I’m staying. And I want this to mean something, not just for me but for us.”
Buck looked up, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. His gaze lingered on Tommy’s face, the vulnerability and honesty there making his throat tighten. “I’m still figuring this out,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Us. Everything. It’s messy, and it scares the hell out of me sometimes. But I think that’s okay. I think we don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
Tommy’s hand stayed firm on Buck’s knee, his grip steady and grounding. He leaned in slightly, his own voice soft but resolute. “It’s more than okay. We’re both a little messy, Evan. We’ve been through things that left us with cracks. I put us through this, but that doesn’t mean we can’t heal together. And for what it’s worth, I’m figuring it out too. I don’t have all the answers either, but I know one thing for sure—I want to figure it out with you. I need to.”
Buck’s breath hitched at the raw sincerity in Tommy’s words. For a moment, the ache of his doubts and fears began to ease, replaced by a warmth he hadn’t dared to hope for. Tommy’s grip tightened just slightly, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere this time.
“Together, then,” Buck murmured, his lips curving into a tentative smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Tommy nodded, his own smile growing. “Together.”
A soft laugh escaped Buck, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in his chest eased. “I think we can manage that.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights painting soft patterns on the walls. Tommy shifted closer, their shoulders brushing now, and Buck didn’t pull away. Hope flickered between them, fragile but steady, bright as the holiday lights that surrounded them.
For the first time in a long time, Buck let himself believe in the possibility of something good. And for the first time in his life, Tommy decided to hold on to it.
Outside, Los Angeles thrummed with holiday cheer, but in the quiet warmth of Buck’s loft, a new kind of hope began to grow.