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When Evan Buckley was six years old, he was put on a timeout for breaking the cardinal playground rule of ‘no hat, no play’.
He could have sworn his hat was in his backpack, but when he went out to lunch, ready to run around with his friends, he found that it was missing.
Not wanting to be left out, Evan snuck onto the school playground without his hat.
When he was caught, Evan told them that he had packed his hat, and he had no idea where it had gotten to.
He only found out when he saw the hat poking out of one of his friends’ bags later. The teacher had told him that sometimes kids weren't very nice, but even if those weren't his people, he would find them.
Evan, ever the optimist, bought a spare hat next time, and hid it under his lunchbox just in case. They might not want to play with him yet, but Evan was sure he could convince him.
When Evan was twelve, he went to a gathering with family friends. They all had kids around his age, and Evan liked the idea of having built-in friends. People he could know and trust because his parents already liked their parents (even if his parents didn't like him all that much).
One evening, one of his family friend's parents found Evan sitting alone on the staircase, reading a book he had found wandering around their study.
When the woman asked Evan what he was doing, he explained that his friends had all gone into a bedroom, and Evan had been locked out on his own.
The woman looked at him with so much pity, but Evan assured her that it was okay. He told her that they were just joking, and that that was what friends did.
When Evan was fifteen, he asked out a girl named Beth.
She was pretty and smart. She was nice to everyone, even when her friends weren't.
She told him she wasn't allowed to date anyone who wasn't an honour student.
Evan, with his undiagnosed ADHD and home problems, was far from that, but he spent months working on his grades so that he could ask again.
Eventually, she told him no again, but this time, she just said her Dad wouldn't let her dare anyone.
She started dating one of Evan's football teammates a month later.
When he was 26, Buck had his first genuinely transformative relationship. She was smart, kind and more mature than him. She looked at him and it made him feel like maybe he mattered.
When she told him she needed to go find herself, he promised to wait.
He waited for months, living like a ghost in her abandoned home, before finally walking away, humiliated and abandoned, finally realising the love he'd felt had been one-sided.
All of this to say, Evan Buckley had never been good at knowing when to let go of things.
So when Eddie Diaz told him on a chilly Friday afternoon that he had put his house on the market and started packing, Buck told himself that this time, he wasn't going to cling to someone trying to leave him behind. This time, Buck would understand what rejection looked like, and he would let someone he loved walk away with dignity.
He helped Eddie to pack, helped him to find a place, helped him figure out what to say to Christopher about it.
He hugged him tight at the airport and watched him walk away.
He drove back to the loft; the house that he actually thought of as home was completely empty and cold, just another physical reminder of another goodbye.
Eddie's house, yes, but also Abby's apartment.
But Buck wasn't clinging this time.
Even when Eddie told him to text when he got home after dropping him off at the airport, Buck didn't.
He didn't because he had to learn the difference between politeness and reciprocation.
He didn't because he couldn't be the same Buck sending message after message to someone who wasn't bothered to answer them.
In the days that followed, Buck lost his mind.
He spent all of his free time thinking about his losses. Thinking about how everyone he loved had a partner of a person that was theirs, someone that made everything less lonely.
When Buck was a little boy, he hated Christmas.
He hated it because it was the most his parents ever paid attention to him and yet, almost inherently, intrinsically, he knew. He knew on some deep level of understanding that he wasn't really wanted there.
He had a clear memory of the way his parents would hug Maddie, tell her Merry Christmas, and the perfunctory way they would approach Buck immediately after. The way his father would pat his head rather than hug him, the way his mother's smile would turn tight.
At that age, Buck had no conscious understanding of these things, but he knew it deep down in his heart.
Even in his thirties, Buck still felt the weight of that.
He tried to love Christmas, because by all rights, he should.
Buck loved shiny things, he loved the decorations and pretty lights, he loved giving people gifts they might enjoy, he loved them smells and the sights and the general idea of Christmas.
But the practice… the practice hurt.
The practice was a reminder of being alone, of never being enough. The practice was a reminder that Buck wasn't wanted, and every Christmas with him and not Daniel was a Christmas where his parents were mourning the gift they were supposed to have.
Daniel and Maddie. The children they wanted.
Evan was an extra. A mistake. Buck sometimes suspected that his parents had never really contemplated that after all was said and done, whether Daniel lived or not, Buck would continue to exist.
He sometimes suspected that keeping him wasn't something that had really settled in their consciousness, wasn't something they'd ever really intended.
As an adult, Buck did his best to hide it. He put up his pretty tree, and he bought the presents and he wore the fluffy hats, and he tried hard to deny the pain he felt.
That, at the core of him, was who Buck was.
He was the guy who loved the Holidays and found energy when no one else had it.
He felt like he had to be that guy to justify his worth.
For better or for worse, Buck had to pretend. And Buck wasn't Evan anymore. He did have a family. The last few years had been easier because he'd worked, and in working, he'd had Eddie and Hen and Bobby and Chim around him.
He'd spent Christmas dinners with Bobby, Athena, May and Harry.
He'd spent Boxing Days with Maddie and Chimney.
Christmas Eves with Hen and Karen and Denny.
All of that was before Eddie left.
And Buck could see the way his friends were trying to make up for it.
Bobby repeatedly asking him if he needed any time off over Christmas was the first big sign, because Buck was a surefire option to make work. He wasn't married, had no kids, had no one who would miss him. Everyone else in the team had reasons not to want to work.
Buck was the only poor sap that had nobody outside of his team.
Bobby was asking because Bobby thought Buck might follow Eddie to Texas for Christmas.
Buck couldn't spend another year following.
Even when Eddie texted him multiple times about it, Buck didn't answer.
On the first of December:
Eddie Diaz: hey Buck… was thinking about Christmas. what are your plans?
Buck hadn't answered. He waited until the next day, then answered Eddie's follow-up question about whether they'd found a good replacement.
On the ninth, Eddie mentioned it again:
Eddie Diaz: chris is actually gonna spend Christmas with me… miracle! what are you doing?
Buck didn't answer that either. He'd waited a day, then sent Eddie some meme about penguins.
It wasn't until Maddie brought it up that Buck really started to tailspin.
Mads: you're coming for Christmas right??
Mads: not day of, i know you boys are working, but next day? jee would really like to have her favourite uncle buck there…
And, really, who was Buck to deny that?
It all happened sort of all at once after that.
Buck decided that if he was doing Christmas, and if he wasn't going to start texting Eddie pathetic sonnets about how badly he wished he would come home where he belonged, or even worse, offering to come to Eddie in Texas.
Far be it from Buck to grow and learn from his mistakes, but he recalled how Eddie had stopped him texting Tommy, and he reminded himself that Eddie had made it clear where he stood on chasing people.
And in some ways, it was even worse, because Eddie was never Buck's to lose in the first place.
So, in a bid to be normal and not start messaging Eddie, Buck found himself decorating.
Like, a lot of decorating.
His first trip to the Christmas store that had popped up in a warehouse beside a bunch of mechanics and car dealerships had been fairly dramatic.
He went in there with the intention of getting a plastic tree, after having read that if he kept it for four or more Christmases, it would have a lower carbon footprint than real ones. He went into a bit of a research dip about it, but the truth of the matter was that real trees smelled like his childhood home, and Buck just couldn't abide that.
Instead, Buck bought a tree so large it barely fit into his apartment, several reems of lights to hang around the place, from balcony to bedroom, inflatable snowmen for his balcony, frosting spray, enough tinsel to bury the apartment in it, crackers, wall hangings, decorative candles, table runners, utensils and plates.
It all sat in sad bags by the stairs of his left until December 15th, when Eddie asked him about it again.
Eddie Diaz: chris decided he wants a tree, but doesn't wanna help me put it up
Eddie Diaz: wish you were here to do it with me
Buck stared for twenty minutes, seriously contemplating answering by saying he'd book the next flight, before deciding it was time to start decorating.
He spent close to nine hours; installing little hooks to hang fairy lights all up around the apartment, from the ceiling and the walls too. He put the tree up, decorated it, took everything off and started again. He painstakingly wrapped yards of tinsel around his staircase, woven a little too intricately, taught to Buck by a tiktok he searched when putting tinsel on the stairs the ordinary way felt so… pathetic.
Buck couldn't feel less festive if he tried, but he was doing his best to ignore that fact.
On December 18th, Buck got another text.
Eddie Diaz: are you mad at me or something? I've bwrely heard from you all month
Eddie Diaz: i know you say you love Christmas, but i also know it's a hard time for you
Eddie Diaz: i just want to know that ur okay
Buck: im fine eds
Buck: just been focused on work and decorating
Eddie Diaz: oh? are you hosting Christmas with your family?
Buck: nope
Eddie Diaz: but you've been decorating for… days??
Buck: yeah. i like christmas.
Eddie Diaz: buck…
Buck: gotta go. cap's knocking.
Although it had been a lie that it was Bobby at the door, it really wasn't long before there was a knock on their door. Only, it was their first day on a 96-off, and people who worked those hours didn't interrupt that sacred time, not during their recovery period anyway.
And given almost all of Buck's friends were firefighters, Buck genuinely doubted that any of his friends would be there.
Except that when he opened the door, Chim was there. He was dressed like he'd just been roused from a nap, crumpled and casual, looking at Buck like he didn't want to be there.
But Buck knew it was mostly likely The Eddie Thing. He knew Chim and Bobby and Hen had been trying not to talk about The Eddie Thing. They were afraid Buck would snap. They were afraid he'd crumble at the mention of his best friend leaving.
Buck was learning though. He was forcing himself to fucking get better at this. Be okay with knowing when to let someone else go, no matter how viciously he longed to stop them leaving.
Eddie had left. So quickly and so casually, with nary a glance in Buck's direction.
Of course, he had shown a brief concern for Buck's welfare, but when Buck had lied that he was fine, Eddie had taken that in stride. Like his only hesitation in the world was how Buck might feel. Not missing Buck himself or wanting to be with him, closer to him, but instead… relief. Eddie was relieved Buck wasn't making it hard for him. Eddie was relieved that Buck wasn't fighting for him to stay.
Eddie wanted Buck to let him go.
Buck could oblige.
The Eddie Thing was humiliating. Proof their friends had seen it first. Proof, maybe, that he really was worth leaving. Proof, maybe, that they pitied him. Maybe they always had.
Maybe Buck needed to return to consistent therapy. The idea made something in his heart ache. Shame, maybe. Guilt.
For not being good enough. For needing help.
Chim looked Buck over tentatively, like he was checking him for some kind of tangible wound, even though the wound of Eddie leaving was something far less obvious. He hoped.
“Hey, man.” Chim began, giving the definite air of someone who wanted to be casual but wasn't achieving it. “Just wanted to check in on you.”
Buck sighed, “Maddie or Eddie?”
Chim blinked at him, “Come again?”
“Who sent you, Maddie or Eddie?”
Chim looked around, like he was hoping whichever one of them it was might protect him.
Buck sighed again, shaking his head. “I'm fine, Chim.” He said quickly, frowning. “Do you want a coffee so you can pretend like you did a thorough check in on me before I tell you to get out of here?”
Chim winced, but nodded slowly.
Buck widened the door to let him in, and Chim moved only a few steps before stopping.
“Buck…”
“Don't.”
“It's—”
“Don't, Chim.”
“It's fucking beautiful in here, brother.” He said warmly, clapping Buck on the shoulder, and though Buck hadn't been entirely sure what to expect, he hadn't been expecting a compliment on his decoration.
It felt stupid to do, given nothing was happening at his house this Christmas, but Buck couldn't fight the desire to do something. To make it mean something.
“Yeah?” Buck asked, resenting how childish and hopeful his voice sounded.
“Yeah.” Chim answered with a nod, shooting him a smile. “You should come help us decorate. Maddie doesn't need the help, really, but it'd be a nice activity and—”
“So it was Maddie then? Who sent you here?”
Buck turned to look away, going to make his brother-in-law a coffee so that he'd get what he needed and reassure whoever that Buck was doing just fine, thank you, and actually he could totally handle The Eddie Thing.
Chim sighed. “Would you be more or less angry at me if I told you it was both of them?”
“Both?” Buck demanded, turning back to Chimney with raised brows. “Dude.”
“I know, I know.” Chim raised his hands, placating. “But think about it this way, you have a lot of people who love you and want to make sure that you're doing okay. No one would blame you if things were a little… much, right now.”
Buck didn't want to think about how things were ‘a bit much’. He didn't want to think about what he'd lost.
And he sure as hell didn't want to think of the people he loved most sitting around thinking he was too fragile or too weak to be okay despite it all.
Buck told himself he'd faced worse losses, and he could handle this too.
“Look,” Buck began, pouring a coffee out for Chim from his machine, shaking his head slowly, “I get that everyone's worried and they're trying to do the right thing by me, whatever that looks like. And I appreciate it, I do. But, I mean, I can handle people leaving me. I’m actually pretty sure that's my natural state.”
Chim's expression pinched up, and he frowned, “Buck, with love, that statement did the opposite of convincing me that you're okay.”
“But I am. And I know you don't want to be here babysitting me, so let's just… not and say we did, okay? I promise to be very thoroughly looked after by my sometimes friend and all the time brother-in-law. I'll make sure everyone knows you did your job. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. But if you do need to talk, I'm—”
“I know, Chim.”
—
On December 21st, Buck knew he'd gone… a little crazier.
He knew, mostly, because when Maddie turned up at his apartment, she looked like she'd found his dead body rather than his decorated apartment. She looked a little horrified, and Buck glanced around to see what she was seeing.
And, okay, yeah, the place was a little ridiculous. There were several trays of cookies waiting to be iced, for a start. Every wall had something on it. There were fairy lights in all the doors and windows and a tree that barely fit in the apartment at all. It looked like the inside of a Christmas store, but Buck thought it looked good. You didn’t grow up in a family obsessed with appearances without learning how to make things look good.
“Buck…” Maddie began, frowning.
“Maddie.”
They stared at each other for a moment, like Buck was trying to silently dare her to react to it all. To the stupid amount of decoration and preparation for an apartment no one but him was ever meant to see, particularly not around Christmas.
“This is…”
He sighed, waiting.
“It’s beautiful, Buck. It is. But it’s— I mean, you see what I’m seeing, right?” She asked, pushing past him right into the apartment, moving forward to inspect the tree with a slight frown.
Of course he did.
He had a tendency to throw himself into shit because he had no good way of stopping. He had a tendency to go head first into even the most ridiculous ideas.
Whether it was stress baking, or stress working out, or stress cleaning or stress decorating, Buck had done it all.
When something was on his mind, Buck almost routinely got obsessed with fixing things.
Dr Copeland had once told him that it was because he was obsessed with proving his worth, and his own insecurities only added to that.
It made sense.
He loathed the idea that anyone might know him well enough to be able to see that that was what he was doing. Panicking and trying to find, or perhaps to prove, some kind of worth to the people around him.
“I’m seeing that I’m finding something productive to channel my energy into. I’m also seeing that you’re about to freak me out about it.”
She sighed, “It’s just— this is what you do. When you’re sad or stressed or feeling bad about yourself, this is what you do.” She began, her voice soft and slow, like she was trying not to startle a wild animal or something. Buck knew everyone was worried about him, it was hardly a secret, but he wanted to stop it. He wanted to make them believe he was fine, because he hated the idea of being a burden on anyone else.
“Okay, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Mads. When I was a kid and I was sad or stressed, I almost always wound up in hospital. Now I’m… baking and decorating. Isn’t that an improvement? Clearly I’m coping.”
She reached a hand out to him, gentle. “Evan, if you were coping, you wouldn’t need to do all of this.” She told him gently. “This is a sign that you’re not coping.”
Buck shook it off, dropping her hand.
“Look, Mads, I know what you’re doing here. And I appreciate it, I do. I appreciate that you care, and that Chim does and that Eddie does. I’ve had both Cap and Hen texting me too. I’m lucky I have people that care this much. But caring or not, I’m just… I’m doing okay, Maddie, really. My best friend is gone and I have a history of… not letting people go when they’re gone.” He sighed deeply, ignoring the way her eyebrows pinched together sadly. “But I know that he’s gone. And I’m going to let him go this time. And if it means a little bit of… obsessing over other shit for a while, then I’m okay with that too. Just… please. Please just let me do what I have to do to get through this?”
Maddie was fiddling with a silver bauble on the tree, her eyes avoiding his, like she was contemplating his suggestions.
“What if he isn’t trying to leave you though, Evan? Have you even considered it?”
Buck sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Maddie. I know he didn’t mean to do it, okay? I do. I know he’s going for Chris. But he’s gone. And me holding on isn’t going to help him in any way shape or form. He’s been there with Christopher for over a month and Chris… he still isn’t wanting to come back. So… so I’m not going to sit around and wait for my best friend to return to me when… when he isn’t going to. And it’s for the best that he doesn’t and I just—” He pinched his nose, “Just let me do this, Maddie. If things get… worse, I promise I’ll come to you.”
She was looking at him like she didn’t believe him, like she didn’t believe for a second that things were okay for him. And though she would be right not to believe him, Buck hoped that she would anyway.
He just needed to get through it, needed to know he could get through it, and that could be enough for him.
“Pinkie promise?” She asked, raising her pinkie to him.
When he looked at her face, open and worried and comforting, he smiled and joined his pinkie with hers.
“Promise.”
—
Over the next few days, Buck was asked again and again in a way that didn’t feel even remotely subtle whether he was okay.
Again and again, he promised his friends and family that he was okay, and when they kept asking, he reminded each of them that if Eddie or Maddie was worried about him, they could ask him themselves.
That seemed to shut people up for the most part, even though no one seemed to believe a word he said regardless of how he said it.
By the time Christmas day rolled around, Buck was turning up early to work with earphones in just to avoid being talked to. He knew it would be something of a wild day, Christmases always were.
It had gotten better in recent years, but there were a lot of accidental fires that were caused by unsafe use of lights, over-plugging power points and lights or fires near trees. Not to mention everything that came from presents and just outright fighting between people during a stressful time of the year.
No one particularly wanted to work on Christmas, and it was a shift most people tried to escape. Despite that, Chimney, Buck, Hen and Ravi had all ended up working.
In truth, he suspected Chim was mostly working so that he could be free the following day, when Maddie had invited Buck to do family Christmas with them.
He suspected that Chim was only working to make sure he was okay, and the thought made him feel a little sick. Maybe a little angry. He didn’t want to be looked after,and the thought of being pitied made him genuinely sick.
Despite that, the shift went by mostly smoothly.
There were things wrong, obviously, fires that they had to put out and wounds they had to patch up.
Break-ins and things far more ridiculous: a girl who swallowed plastic covered holly for some reason and then was surprised when it didn’t go down right. A man who had genuinely tried to get a sleigh pulled by reindeers to fly, and instead gotten himself trampled and left calling for help.
When all was said and done, Buck was tired, a little annoyed, and staring at his phone like it might grow teeth and bite him.
Not because of Maddie’s photos of Jee, which were undeniably adorable.
Not because of the text from Tommy either, telling him ‘Merry Christmas’ like they had any relationship left to speak of at all.
No, it was because of the texts from his best friend.
Buck had changed his contact name when he left, from ‘Diass’ to ‘Eddie Diaz’, like that might make the emotional distance match the physical one, and make it easier for him.
Eddie Diaz: Merry Christmas, Buck
Eddie Diaz: Spending the day with my family, which sucks
Eddie Diaz: BUT it means i have chris here
Eddie Diaz: he wanted me to send you a pic, so here’s him with his favourite Christmas present
Eddie Diaz: [image attached]
Buck opened the texts, sent back a few hearts and a quick ‘Merry Christmas’, and then shut his phone off.
He needed to sleep, and anyway, looking at photos of Chris and Eddie made him want to cry.
It made him want to scream.
It made him want to get down on his knees and ask whoever might be listening why this kept happening. Why he kept getting left behind. Why it was always fucking him left standing alone, behind the glass doors, or standing in his kitchen or checking for a text?
He didn't want to be left waiting anymore. He wanted it to mean something. Once, Buck had been the person who believed in true love and choosing someone over everything and all the rest of it.
Times had changed though, and Buck knew better.
He was holding onto something that was slipping away, again, and he needed to let go of it.
He needed to be mature enough to just unclench his fist and let Eddie go. Let go of whatever wild, far-flung ideas he had had that their friendship was a forever kind of thing.
He was learning, slowly and painfully, that there really was no such thing as a forever kind of thing.
Everything had a time limit, and being okay meant being okay with being alone.
And so Buck went home, and he collapsed into bed; his apartment quiet, all the lights and Christmas decor dark.
He closed his eyes and he tried to imagine it wasn't Christmas.
For some reason unknown to him, perhaps punishing himself, Buck pictured his childhood bedroom in as much detail as he could.
He pictured the dark wooden single bed he'd slept in most of his youth.
He pictured the quilt cover he'd had with the tigers on it, and the shelf filled with his shoes and some toys he'd hidden in there to play with. The red, shaggy carpet and the dark red curtains draped over his windows.
It was different at different times in his life, but that was the room he remembered most vividly.
It was the way his room was when Buck realised that people only ever seemed to bother with him when he was hurt.
The same room he would sit in with Maddie while she patched up his cuts.
The room he returned to after his first kiss and the one he fled from.
Buck hated that room, but in some ways, he missed it.
His parents were a known evil, inescapable, but consistent. The world had seemed so bright, and so hopeful, but Buck was left with the nagging fear that he was the problem.
That again and again, he'd wind up alone, and inevitably, the only one left to blame was himself.
He fell asleep wondering if Eddie missed him too, or if Buck was the only one spiraling about losing him.
He kept replaying losses like it might make it okay, but the fear lingered, and haunted Buck’s dream.
When he woke, the dream was slipping, like trying to catch clouds in his hands, and all he had left was the vaguest memories of begging Eddie to stay with him.
It made him feel pathetic.
Still, Buck took himself off to Maddie and Chim's house.
He took the presents he'd found for them all, and far too many cookies that he'd baked, and he tried to appear happy.
He swung Jee in a big arc while she giggled, and then tugged on the little reindeer ears that she wore, telling her she was the cutest little deer he'd ever seen.
She was, easily, and Buck took comfort in how obviously she wanted him there, no matter what anyone else thought.
When, over lunch, Maddie finally asked about Eddie, Buck sighed.
“He's busy in Texas, Maddie, he doesn't need me bothering him.”
She hummed, “Really? Because the several texts to Howie asking if you were okay would probably suggest otherwise.”
Buck hated the way warmth spread through his cold insides at the thought of Eddie worrying about him.
“He's worried I'll crumble. He's just being a good person.”
Chim snorted, “No, he's frustrated because you're not answering his texts properly and he misses you.”
The idea felt like drinking hot chocolate in the frigid snow, like life being breathed back into his body.
“Don't be silly,” Buck said quickly, shaking his head. “Eddie's being a good person, and that's great, but he isn't texting because he's missing me, he's texting because I need it from him. Or because he thinks I do.”
He watched his sister and her husband exchange a glance, and he ached for that kind of casual intimacy. The simple, knowing act of looking to your loved one and knowing implicitly they'll be looking back.
“I think you've got this all twisted up, Buck.” Chim finally said, raising his shoulders in a shrug.
The conversation was interrupted by Jee tucking a bow into Buck's hair, standing behind him on the couch, and any thoughts of arguing further fled him.
He was with family, he could put Eddie out of his mind.
—
Buck couldn't put Eddie out of his mind.
He spent all day wondering what he was doing, who he was seeing, how Christopher felt. Chris had sent him a meme for Christmas, and Buck knew he was fourteen and probably detached from how desperately Buck missed him.
He wondered if Eddie missed him too, and nearly cried in the privacy of his own loft when he got a text from Eddie in the middle of the night.
Eddie Diaz: miss you
Buck wanted to ignore it, because he wanted to make this whole transition easier for them both, but he couldn't. Beneath the many layers of self protection he'd forcibly erected, Buck was still just Buck, and he loved Eddie too much.
Buck: miss you too
Buck: merry christmas eds
Eddie Diaz: merry christmas buck
—
Buck lived in the weird, no-man's-land space between Christmas and New Year, and he did his best to be normal.
Eddie sent him pictures of what he'd gotten and Buck sent back a cheering emoji.
Eddie sent pictures of his mother's gaudy gingerbread house (Buck's was much more tasteful), and he responded with an eye roll emoji.
Eddie sent him a picture of him and Chris and Buck loved reacted it.
He told himself that although it was awkward and weird now, it was for the best for them both.
It didn’t feel true, but he ignored that.
When he got a text from Bobby inviting him — and the rest of the team — over for New Years, Buck figured he would go just to avoid being alone.
And to prove he was okay, so everyone would stop always asking him about it.
—
By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Buck’s apartment had not gotten any more normal. If anything, it had gotten less so, since Buck had worked out how to attach all the lights to music, and could now make the whole apartment glow and light up completely depending on what he was listening to.
When he left, he left the lights going, in time to jingle bells, and looked around at the place. It looked nuts, but it looked pretty, and more importantly, it looked like something other than baking or riding his motorcycle dangerously (not that he even had one anymore), so Buck would take it as a win.
He headed over to Bobby’s with beer in tow and a cheese board he’d painstakingly put together, with the help of youtube and pinterest.
It was nice to see his friends, but Buck was very aware of what they were doing. He was aware everyone was looking out for him. He was aware that they were all trying to take care of him, and he was as flattered as he was offended by it.
Which was probably why he made a point to actually use product in his hair — curly product, at Ravi’s insistence that he looked better when he stopped trying to fight them — and to actually dress nicely. He put on his best shoes (he only had about four pairs), and one of his nicest shirts (Eddie’s favourite) and a nice cologne.
And people seemed to notice.
Hen told him he looked dapper.
Chim said he looked nice.
Ravi nodded approvingly at his hair.
Buck considered it yet another piece of proof that despite what Maddie said, he was actually doing just fine, thank you very much. He knew there was an alternative option, and chose not to think about it.
Or, he tried not to think about anything much at all, making polite conversation with anyone who approached him, trying his best to give off the impression of someone totally normal and fine and definitely not in need of help.
And it almost felt true. It almost felt real.
Until about 9pm.
Because at 9pm, he heard the familiar sound of crutches against floorboards.
His head whipped around, looking for the source of the noise and, sure enough, standing by the front door with a big gift bag in one arm and a six pack tucked under the other, was his best friend. Beside him, with a Christmas hat stuffed onto his head, was Christopher, looking altogether unsure about how he should be feeling. Buck was sure Christopher hadn’t wanted the hat, but he probably wanted to see Denny and Harry. Was probably happy to have a short trip home.
Buck stood completely still, aware, too, that he was being watched. He could feel eyes on him, and he supposed that their friends had been waiting for this.
Had they known? Had it been kept from Buck specifically? Why would they keep it from Buck specifically?
He stood, feeling completely lost, for a few moments before Christopher’s eyes locked on his.
His big eyes locked on Buck’s, and his lips pulled into a bright grin, and then he was moving and so was Buck, and they met somewhere in the middle in a tight hug. Buck was sure he wouldn’t get one of those from Christopher just any day, but it had been months, and Chris was apparently happy to see him too.
He tried to pick Chris up, but that was apparently a bridge too far, as he started complaining and shoving at Buck’s shoulders, though he laughed it off when Buck did set him back down.
But then— then there was Eddie, walking towards Buck with a slightly nervous expression on his face.
He understood the nervousness, because suddenly, he felt like if he didn’t run away, his heart was going to fall out of his asshole. Panic welled up inside of him, seemed to fill him up until there was no room left for logic, and Buck darted back, quickly offering to show Christopher Bobby’s new place, before sweeping him off towards the backyard, no longer meeting Eddie’s eyes.
And Christopher, despite the suspicion in his eyes, went along with Buck, happily chatting about El Paso and school and video games and anything else that came to his mind.
It was nice, the reminder that despite Christopher’s distance, their relationship hadn’t broken down. That he was still Buck’s friend, the kid who called him when he needed someone.
He wished it was still that simple, but he was just glad Christopher still had any space in his life for Buck at all.
And as for Eddie…
Buck knew it was insane that he was avoiding Eddie. He knew that he had no good reason for it. Eddie was in the room, present and accounted for, and Buck should be happy to see him. Excited to be with his best friend again after so long apart. Instead, Buck just felt… afraid.
He felt afraid that he would get used to having Eddie back only for him to leave again.
He felt afraid of the whole thing, and for better or for worse, Buck couldn’t risk getting reattached to the idea of Eddie and losing him again. He was fairly certain that he’d only barely survived it the first time.
Not only that, but he was convinced that if his friends saw them interact again, they would know everything. There would be no more lying and saying he was fine, because everyone would see it written all over him how not fine he truly was.
And, in fairness, he wasn’t. Not even a bit. He felt like his whole world had fallen right off its axis when Eddie had left.
All that stability, all that certainly, it had disappeared, just like that. Another reminder that Buck couldn’t rely on anything to stay. Another reminder that in the end, everyone left.
He’d always been inherently hopeful, and he’d always liked that about himself, but now he thought… maybe he’d just been hurt one too many times.
And he dealt with that hurt, very maturely, by avoiding Eddie like the plague.
Instead of spending his life orbiting Eddie, as he always had, Buck had taken to treating them like some kind of magnetic repulsion.
If Eddie joined a conversation closer to him, Buck left it.
If Eddie tried to meet his eyes, Buck averted them.
Once, in a sheer panic, he’d even outright closed his eyes like a child who believed that if he couldn't see it, then it wasn’t real.
And when Eddie looked away, that was when Buck looked. And he saw it. The confusion, the incredulity, the hurt. He felt bad, but he was only protecting them both, really. Wasn’t he?
Besides that, Buck’s only other strategy was to drink. To swallow down as much alcohol as he could get his little hands on and hope that it was enough to mask the way he was feeling about having Eddie so close and yet so far all at once.
Because with Eddie gone, Buck had told himself he just missed his best friend, and that had been fine.
With Eddie standing right there, it was harder to deny how desperately he wanted to cling to him, and how not normal that was for a best friend. He told himself it was the emotion. It was the longing. It was just projection. He feared worse though.
It was nearly midnight when the whole thing came to a head.
Because Buck had been drinking. Eddie had been drinking. Their friends had been drinking.
All the teenagers were off playing games elsewhere and the adults were laughing, dancing, drinking, singing.
Buck had been seeking out Ravi to dance when he ducked out of the way to bring Buck face to face with Eddie.
Eddie, who Buck had been very specifically ignoring as much as he possibly could.
Eddie, who was looking at Buck like Buck had kicked his puppy.
Buck tried to turn, and Eddie grabbed his bicep, shaking his head, his eyes a little fuzzy.
“Buck. No.”
He felt like a child getting put in his place. Honestly, he also felt like he kind of deserved it, so it was hard to argue too much.
“Eddie, do we have to—”
“Yes.”
They were right in front of everyone, but they were also drunk, and no one else seemed to be paying particular attention to them. Buck doubted that it was true, he thought it was more likely that they were pretending not to notice. But then, he also wasn’t paying as much attention as he probably should have been. He couldn’t stop looking at Eddie’s face. He couldn’t really see much except his bleary, angry eyes. The intent way he stared at Buck.
Buck hated that he looked angry, but he couldn’t help but crave the way Eddie was looking at him at all. The intensity of it. He hated himself for it, for craving even the tiniest moments with him.
But this was why he’d been avoiding Eddie. Because he had no idea how to avoid his own feelings about Eddie. Because Eddie would leave and if Buck let himself acknowledge them, they would never go away. He needed them to go away. It might all be fuzzy, but he knew that much. He knew if he let himself admit what he really wanted, he’d never be able to get over the loss of Eddie.
He’d lost a lot of people, and he was okay with that. He tried to be okay with that. But Eddie was different. Even with all the people Buck had loved and lost, nothing came close to this. Nothing came close to them. To the family he’d built with Eddie.
To the gaping wound that he and Christopher leaving had left in Buck’s heart.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Eddie demanded, his voice barely loud enough. It was fine, though, because Buck was too focused on him to miss a single syllable that he spoke, even drunk.
Buck huffed, “I’m doing the right thing.”
“No, you really aren’t.” Eddie shook his head, staring intently back at Buck. “What the hell is it that you think you’re doing?”
“I’m—” Buck waved his arms, feeling completely stupid. “I’m letting you go. I’m, y’know, I’m being mature. Like, setting you free or whatever.”
Eddie was blinking at him, looking at Buck like he’d just confessed to having a third arm no one but him could see.
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie asked, looking at Buck’s rapidly gesticulating hands like they might have the answers to his questions.
“Like— like I’ve never known how to let go. But I’m trying this time, to do the right thing, to not just… cling forever.”
Eddie frowned, “Who the fuck told you to stop clinging? Because that person might just be a fucking idiot.”
Buck blinked at him, trying to work out what he was talking about.
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” Buck said quickly, “I don’t want you to—”
“Buck, seriously, what are you talking about? When have I ever given you the impression that I wanted you to let go of me? I’ve been texting you, trying to get you to talk to me, for days!” He grabbed Buck’s other bicep then, holding him in place like he was afraid that Buck might be about to turn tail and run. Which, honestly, would be a fair assumption, considering that was exactly what he was considering doing.
“I just— I— Eddie.” He frowned, huffing a deep breath. “You’ve left. You’re gone. I can’t— I was just trying to— to make it easier for us both!”
“This isn’t easier.” Eddie snapped, “Let me disabuse you of the notion that my life would ever be easier without you in it.” He shook Buck’s shoulders a little, shaking his head. “My life is not easier or better without you. I’m not trying to let go and I don’t want you to stop clinging.”
Buck was avoiding Eddie’s eyes, staring at the ground instead, which seemed to be shifting slightly beneath his feet.
“Buck? Are you listening to me?” He was basically hissing the words by then, holding Buck tightly in his hands like he might be about to slip away. “I don’t want this.”
“Eddie, you’ve left and I—”
The chanting started all at once, the countdown that happened every year.
Buck fucking hated New Years Eve.
9.
It was always so overhyped, and it always ended with him collapsing into bed, feeling just as broken as he had the year before.
He remembered being a kid, watching his parents celebrate with their friends while he hid at the top of the stairs and observed, almost inevitably caught and yelled at to go to bed.
7.
Buck had spent so long longing for something different. For something better, more permanent. He didn’t want a new start every year. He wanted a good middle and a good end. He knew how things started, he’d had plenty of good starts, but none of it had lasted. In the end, he’d always looked back on his own naivety rather than his own hope.
6.
He’d spent a New Year waiting for Abby. Texted her at midnight to tell her that he loved her. She hadn’t responded until two days later, citing that her phone had run out of juice before she could answer him.
5.
Eddie was standing in front of him, but this was another New Year. Not a middle, but another start. A start without Eddie.
4.
Even if Eddie wanted to stay, he couldn’t. Not with Chris. Even if Eddie didn’t want space, they couldn’t possibly be like this. They couldn’t be them, not so far from each other.
3.
And what if Eddie never did come back? He would meet someone else. Some girl who was actually everything that he wanted. He’d get married over there and text Buck less and less and it would hurt a thousand times worse.
He would do anything to keep Eddie with him, to keep Christopher with him, but he wouldn’t try to force them to stay. He couldn’t do that. Not to them.
He didn’t hear the one, because all he could hear was the thrumming in his ears as Eddie yanked him closer.
Because one second, Eddie was ranting at him about how stupid he was for thinking he should leave Eddie alone, and the next, Eddie’s lips were on his and Buck was too startled to even remember to kiss back.
Buck thought he was a good kisser. He’d certainly had enough practice.
The problem was, no amount of practice had prepared him for his best friend kissing him, in the middle of a group of their drunk friends, at midnight.
As much as Buck hated the concept that every year was starting all over, he was okay with starting all over if it meant this. Rebooting his brain, for a start. But something else too. Learning how to kiss again like it meant something. LIke it was love.
As much as he’d loved Abby or Taylor or anyone else in his life, it didn’t come close to how he felt about Eddie.
Taylor and Abby, he got to know them during their relationships. He saw the good first, and the bad when it was too late.
But with Eddie, Buck had seen it all. He’d seen the best and the worst of him, the moments when he was at his best, his kindest, and the moments he was at his worst. The moments his memories haunted him and the world seemed too big and too heavy. Buck had seen the best and the worst, and he wasn’t sure he was capable of loving Eddie any more than he already did.
Now that he knew, he couldn’t un know.
He’d been hiding from it for so long, but there Eddie was, beneath his fingertips, beneath his lips, and any thought Buck had had of kissing well was gone, replaced with the desire to make Eddie feel loved. The desire to put all of it into the kiss.
He might be about to lose him, but he couldn’t see outside of that moment.
The clock kept ticking, and the new year started, but there was nothing Buck could see aside from Eddie himself.
He felt him, skin under fingertips. He felt soft lips against his own, kissing with the same urgency that made Buck think that finally, maybe, at last, he wasn’t alone.
—
When Buck woke the following morning, he was in his own bed, surrounded by lights still flashing to the tune of Jingle Bells, with fake snow garlands hanging above him and tinsel woven through the rails of the loft around him.
It was a nightmare on his pounding head, and he regretted every shot he’d let Hen talk him into taking.
But it was too late for anything other than accepting it now, and so Buck pulled a pillow over his head, groaned loudly, and attempted to return to sleep.
An attempt that was promptly cut short when he heard his front door open.
There weren’t many people with keys, so he could take a guess.
“Holy shit.” Christopher’s voice echoed in the filled apartment.
A sigh, and Eddie’s voice followed. “Language, Christopher. Just because you’re fourteen doesn’t mean that—”
“Okay, come on, this is, like— I feel like I wandered into like, a lifetime Christmas movie or something— I mean—”
“Buck?” Eddie yelled, interrupting his son’s rambling about Buck’s — frankly ridiculous — apartment.
Buck heard the nerves in his voice and it hit him like a bucket of icy water.
Eddie kissed him. Eddie had yelled at him at midnight and then he had kissed him.
He had kissed him and then he had kept kissing him. Buck’s hands had been in his hair, on his waist, on his arms, gripping him and pulling him in as tightly as he could. Eddie’s hands had been all over Buck too. Hands all over him, lips all over him. Buck had felt like he was on fire, but he would’ve done anything to stay in the burn for as long as he could.
Buck didn’t remember, really, how it had ended. He remembered getting in a Lyft. He remembered Bobby hugging him and telling him to have some water before he got into bed. He remembered Hen whooping as his car pulled away.
He had no recollection of saying goodbye to Eddie or Christopher. He had no recollection of what happened after that kiss. He had no idea whether Eddie wanted to continue kissing him. He had no idea if Eddie was going to disappear in a puff of smoke like some magic trick.
The trick was giving Buck something so perfect, so good that he couldn’t believe it was real, and then snatching it away.
He made a gurgling sound from his bed, waiting for them to approach.
Eventually, he saw Eddie appear at the top of the stairs through one squinted eye.
“Buck.” Eddie said slowly. “I’m going to put on a pot of coffee. Come join us when you can, yeah?”
He heard the steps disappear back down the stairs, and he could hear Eddie and Christopher talking, but only barely, whispered words between the two of them.
After a few minutes — and a new shirt — Buck managed to lumber down the stairs, groaning as he rubbed his eye.
Christopher sat alone at his bench, amongst the many decorations and flashing lights.
Buck felt suddenly bashful.
“Chris… you guys are…” He cleared his throat, “How long are you staying?”
Christopher blinked at him, “Didn’t Dad already tell you last night?”
Buck’s brows raised, and he shook his head. “Told me what…?”
Christopher glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom, then sighed. “I’m not sure if I’m meant to be the one to say this, but… I mean, we’re staying?” Christopher offered, shrugging. “Dad got really sad and weird about you not texting him enough and…” He shrugged again, like he was aiming for casual, “It seemed kinda mean to keep you guys apart. Especially since I… kinda hate El Paso. I just… I wanted Dad to… I don’t know. I wanted him to get it together. But he was willing to move to Texas and he hates Texas, so I thought…”
Christopher was rambling, and Buck had the maybe totally unearned thought that it was a lot like him. He had no claim over anything with Christopher, but it still felt like him. It felt like a compliment, in a weird way. Buck was proud. He was also… losing his mind a little bit.
Because he’d heard what Christopher said, but he was a little afraid to believe it.
“Chris?” He asked, a bit shyly.
“Christopher.” He heard Eddie’s voice then, cutting through the quiet between them. “I heard that.”
He shrugged, “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? That’s why we’re here?”
Buck stared directly at Eddie, who was bathed in the glow of Christmas lights and somehow flushing so bright that Buck could still see the red in his cheeks.
“You’re staying?” Buck asked, breathless.
Eddie stood, looking awkward and lost in a way he never had in Buck’s apartment before.
“We’re staying.” Eddie confirmed with a nod.
“You… because of me?” He asked breathlessly.
Christopher let out a little laugh. “‘Cause Dad acted more pathetic than most kids in my class about it, yeah.”
Eddie turned to look at him, mouthing something that had to be ‘stop’, at least from Buck’s perspective. He was bright red, and Buck was taken with how adorable he was. He would’ve liked to kiss him again, but he wouldn’t, not in front of Christopher, who was looking between them like he was trying not to scrunch his nose up in disgust. Although, if Buck wasn’t mistaken, he could see something like a smirk on his face. Maybe a part of him was far more okay with this than he was pretending to be.
“So… this is… it wasn’t…” He was breathless, awkward. “You meant it then. When you kissed me?”
Eddie’s eyes averted quickly, then raised again to meet Buck’s, looking more awkward than he ever had. “No, it wasn’t a mistake. It was— an intentional choice. You were being stupid. Going on about setting me free or whatever and…” He huffed, looking a bit shy. “I don’t want to be set free.”
Buck would have kissed him, but he wouldn’t put Christopher through it. Instead, he settled on: “So then… you’re going to go on a date with me?”
“I…” He scratched the back of his neck, awkward and embarrassed, clearly. “Yes, Buck, obviously. But then you have to explain to me what the hell is going on with your apartment looking like Santa’s workshop.”