Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The second Chris saw the beat-up leather journal with “Property of Eddie Diaz” emblazoned on the front in a somewhat childish version of his dad’s familiar scrawl, he knew that he should put it back beneath the loose floorboard where it had stayed hidden away for probably a decade and a half. No doubt placed there as a way of keeping it hidden from the prying hands of two nosy younger sisters and parents that Chris was increasingly learning could be unbearably overbearing. 

But he didn’t want to, he was hurt and tired, bitterness clawing away at his heart like a wounded dog begging for scraps of validation for the anger he still felt toward his dad after having caught him moments away from kissing that woman- the one who’d stolen his mother’s face. 

Realistically, he knew that body-snatching aliens were the work of science fiction and that cloning was decades away from being able to perfectly replicate a fully grown human being (plus, why would anyone want to hurt him by desecrating the image of his dead mom and replacing her with a deranged clone?). Still, that knowledge didn’t stop the anger simmering in his chest. 

When his abuela had first shown him the room where he’d be staying until his dad finally got his head out of his ass and came to get him, the room that had once belonged to a distant, teenage version of his dad, she’d told him that he could do whatever he wanted with it and that anything he found and wanted he could keep. “It’s not like your dad will want any of it.” She’d chuckled before ruffling his hair affectionately. Of course, she hadn’t known about the journal, but that hardly mattered; she’d said he could have whatever he wanted in the room, and so what if what he wanted was invading the privacy his dad’s teenage journal? It’s not like his dad was around to have a say. 

So, he picked up the journal, aware that his dad would probably beg him not to if he was there. But he wasn't there. He was eight hundred miles away in Los Angeles, where Chris had left him behind, standing in the doorway silently pleading with Chris not to leave. 

He really was his parents’ kid, they were both great at leaving too. 

Chris flipped at random, paging through the teenage scrawl until something caught his eye, a carefully glued-in picture of a much younger version of his mom. She couldn’t have been much older than him, fifteen or sixteen at most, her long brown hair pulled back into a braid, eyes closed and mouth wide open. She must have been laughing, the photo freezing in time a mom that he never got to meet- young and vibrant, free from any and all worries save for pop quizzes in Algebra and trying to make her schedule work between Varsity softball and a supporting role in the Spring musical. 

Idly, he traced the image of her, imagining what could have made his mom laugh until her sides ached, hands clutched to her stomach and braid flying. Was it something his dad had said or done? When he’d been very little, Mom would sometimes tell him stories about her and Dad from before they’d had him. She always claimed that Dad was the funniest guy she’d ever met, but Chris had never really understood that. Sure, sometimes his dad said something kind of funny or did something to make Chris laugh, but he would never classify his dad as “funny”, not the way Buck or Denny was. Most of his jokes were kind of cringey, and, he supposed, there was a certain dad-like charm to that, but to call his dad the “funniest man alive” was more than a little stretch. Maybe Mom had just had what Dad called “rose-colored glasses” on, like he, himself had had with Dana S. before realizing that the butterflies in his stomach he got around her were nothing compared to the way being around Penny had felt, and that really, Dana S. was kind of mean and not nearly as fun to be around as he had previously thought.

Sometimes, very occasionally , he could begrudgingly admit that his dad could say something smart. Broken clocks are always right twice a day or whatever Buck would say. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, his eyes moved away from his frozen-in-the-moment mom to read the entry beside it. 

October 31, 2009

Mom and Dad decided we shouldn’t do Halloween this year. The Lawrences handed out these pamphlets after Mass a few weeks ago about the origins of Halloween and how it’s secretly a way to trick nice and normal people into worshipping the devil. I don’t know how much Dad actually bought it, but enough people at church were agreeing that canceling Halloween was a great idea that Mom had to jump on the bandwagon. 

Sophia and Adrianna are, of course, devastated, but Dad promised them that he’d watch a movie with them instead since he’ll actually be home for once. Mom got nervous and told him that it better be a Christian one in case any of the neighbors asked the girls what they did for Halloween. Somehow, I don’t think anyone will, it seems like the whole neighborhood is on the Halloween-is-evil train. Everyone except Shannon. 

As soon as I told Shannon about it, she got all upset and started arguing about the “injustice of it all!” We were supposed to go to a Halloween party at Dan Phillip’s barn, but I’m pretty sure that’s canceled now too. So, in a typical Shannon move, she decided that we should all have a party anyway, but on October 30th instead, that way no one could claim it was a Halloween party but we could hang out and watch scary movies and eat too much candy anyway. 

It took a lot of convincing for Mom to let me go, I ended up lying and saying it would just be me and Shannon and her cousin Melissa. Mom can be so weird, she was so excited when I got a girlfriend, but never wants me to spend any time alone with her. I don’t know what she thinks will happen, it’s not like Shannon and I do anything but occasionally hold hands, we’re both too, I dunno, shy? to do anything else. It’s all so new, but I love getting to be around her, she always makes me feel seen, like I actually matter for once. 

Anyway, Mom finally agreed to let me go, but I think she’s still suspicious about the whole thing. But, I got to go, and that’s what matters. 

Shannon still wanted everyone to dress up, but it’s not like I could leave the house dressed like A-Rod (but Texas Rangers A-Rod, not Yankees A-Rod, FUCK THE YANKEES!! !)”

Chris let out a snort, it was nice to know that some things never changed- like his dad’s burning hatred for the New York Yankees. He’d underlined “FUCK THE YANKEES” several times for emphasis. It was a little jarring to see his dad so freely throwing around F-Bombs as he now called them whenever Chris was around. He didn’t think he’d heard his dad say anything worse than “shit” in his presence, but this journal was proof that his dad had, somehow, once been a teenager just like him. 

The idea seemed ridiculous, and yet-

I thought that I could just come in my regular clothes and say that I was an “innocent bystander” in Spiderman or something. Shannon thought this was hilarious and laughed and laughed , the kind of laugh that always makes me want to laugh too. 

Considering how much she was laughing, I thought for sure that she’d go for it! But then she said I was being “ridiculous” and that I needed an “ actual costume”. I tried arguing that I couldn’t leave my house in anything recognizable as a costume, not with my mom and her entire Bible Study on this weird demon kick.

Shannon said I should just dress up like I’m in “Supernatural”, her favorite show. I’ve only seen a few episodes because Shannon likes to order the DVDs from Netflix. 

(Mom and Dad obviously don’t know about it or they’d probably make me break up with Shannon immediately ). 

She said she’d gotten the first season in the mail so we could watch it at the party. I agreed because she was really excited, and I like when she’s excited. She picked out one of my plaid button-downs and told me to wear the boots I got as a hand-me-down from my cousin last Christmas. I don’t really wear them because they’re not in great shape, but she said that would “add to the authenticity.”

So I left last night dressed as Sam from Supernatural; not that anyone besides me and Shannon would know. Shannon said I should be Sam since my hair’s the right length. I’ve been growing it out a bit and I really like it, but I can tell it makes Dad mad. 

I’m kinda scared to admit it, but part of me likes that it annoys Dad. He keeps telling me I need a haircut, but he’s never in town long enough to actually do anything about it. Mom is begrudgingly letting me keep it because she knows the “surfer boy” look is in and she thinks it will help me get girls’ attention. Never mind the fact that I’m LITERALLY dating Shannon!!! You know, a girl!

Chris snorted, he could picture his Abuela, over-bearing as ever, frantically fussing with his dad’s hair. He’d never known it to be anything but short and neat- only the occasional curl coming loose from its gel prison. He tried to picture his dad with shaggy hair, but it wouldn’t compute in his mind. 

Sighing, he gently put the still-open journal down on his comforter and reached toward the bedside table for his phone. A cursory Google search for “sam winchester hair 2009” left him struggling not to snort. It wasn’t a bad look, but it didn’t feel like something his dad would do, not then, not ever. 

But then, Chris had not met 17-year-old Eddie Diaz, only the shell of the man who had been left behind. 

Anyway, once we got to the party it was a really great time! Shannon came out dressed in a leather jacket and acting all macho. She had decided that since I was Sam, she would be Dean. When Alex Reyes pointed out that it was a little weird that Shannon and I had dressed as brothers even though we were dating, Shannon got really red in the face and started arguing with him. She pointed out that this was her favorite show and there weren’t really any other main characters besides Sam and Dean. Castiel, sure, but like she pointed out to Alex, it’s not like I had a trenchcoat and angel wings just waiting for me to grab them off a hanger in my closet. Alex thankfully let it go after Shannon threatened to tell his parents about the time he did a kegstand at Phil Wier’s birthday party. 

It was just a few of us at the party since we couldn’t go all out like we wanted to for fear of the Jesus Squad busting down our doors (that’s what Shannon called the moms who’d all started this stupid anti-fun brigade). Shannon and me, Theo Lindsay, Heather McIntyre, Alex Reyes, Taylor McKenzie, and Taylor’s boyfriend S.J. Oaks. We couldn’t do much, but it was fun being rebels, showing up in costumes no one understood but us, drinking Taylor’s mom’s wine coolers that Taylor and S.J. had smuggled in, and watching Supernatural in Shannon’s basement. Shannon made sure to put on a real spooky episode, one with Bloody Mary in it. 

Eventually, though, Alex got bored, because Alex always gets bored -insert eyeroll here- he can be so annoying!!! I don’t know why we keep inviting him to things, maybe because Shannon feels bad for him since he doesn’t have many friends. Gee, I wonder why…

Anyway, he started demanding we play Truth or Dare, so after a lot of arguing back and forth we all got in a circle on the floor to play. I don’t remember who all got what, besides that S.J. had to do his best Richard Nixon impression, but he didn’t know who Richard Nixon was so he just started doing a generic politician voice until Shannon booed and threw a Cheeto at him. That was funny, not the Richard Nixon part, Shannon throwing the Cheeto. 

Shannon picked truth on her turn, so Taylor asked her who her celebrity crush was. Shannon got really uncomfortable, and I can’t say I blame her, I hate when people ask that kind of stuff!! Why does everyone want to know what celebrity you're obsessed with?? Besides, none of the famous girls on TV are even that attractive, trying to have a crush on any of them feels so fake! (I mentioned this to Alex once and he rolled his eyes and told me not to act so “whipped”, whatever that means)

She took a really long pause, almost to the point of awkwardness, before her eyes wandered over to the TV. After the Bloody Mary episode, she had skipped ahead and put a new episode of Supernatural on, something from the most recent season. 

“Him,” she said, nodding at the TV. A dark-haired guy was on the screen and sparks were going off behind him, I can admit he looked pretty badass! I totally get why Shannon would have a crush on him- he looked so cool!

“Castiel? That angel dude?” S.J. asked, I don’t think he totally believed her for some reason. Why not is beyond me, the angel guy - Castiel- looked so cool! And he had this really deep voice that I bet a lot of girls really like. Why wouldn’t she have a crush on him?

“Yeah!” She said, “He’s… hot.” She kinda hesitated, maybe she didn’t want to me get jealous or offended? But I wouldn’t though, it’s not like she was making out with him in front of me or something. And like I said, it makes sense!

It was my turn next, S.J. ended up asking me the same question, I didn’t really have an answer so I just said “Shannon.” 

Alex started groaning and complaining that I was “cheating” because Shannon wasn’t famous. I think Shannon was the only one who appreciated me saying that I was prepping for the future when she was a professional softball player who would finally cause the people to open their eyes and realize how fucking awesome fast-pitch softball is! (Adri likes to joke that Shannon and me are gonna be famous celebrity ball players and end up buying the Astros together after retiring- a boy can dream!!!)

That’s where the entry ended. Chris exhaled, trying not to let the tears stinging his eyes fall. On their own, his fingers traced his father’s ball-point words and he imagined the life his parents might have had if they hadn’t woken up on a random Thursday during their senior year to discover that his mom was pregnant. Mom had only just turned 18, his dad still a few months away from hitting that particular milestone. 

He’d overheard Abuelo once mentioning how his dad had given up a baseball scholarship to join the army instead. He could picture the framed photos on Bisabeula’s mantel, pictures of his dad in his high school uniform, winding up at the pitcher’s mound, ready to let a killer curveball fly. 

There weren’t a ton of pictures of his mom around their house in L.A., but he kept one on his nightstand, one of his favorites. It was his mom, braided hair peeking out of her helmet as she prepared to hit whatever ball the pitcher had thrown at her that day. He loved that picture, she looked so powerful in it; like she could take that softball bat to the knees of anyone who dared to defy her, like she could make the whole world stop with one solid crack of the bat, taking both the ball and the crowd’s breaths far away into the outfield while she shot off around the bases and back to home. 

Picking up his phone again, his thumb hesitated over his dad’s contact. They hadn’t talked much, not that his dad hadn’t tried. Every time he opened their text convo he couldn’t help but cringe in guilt at the number of times he’d left his dad on read in the past few months. It was his right, he thought stubbornly. But still, the guilt gnawed at him as the familiar image of his father was replaced by that of a teenage version of his dad, one who’d grown his hair long just to annoy his own father, who’d snuck out on Halloween to go hang out with his girlfriend, one who might have even been a bit of a rebel, god forbid. 

Swiping away, he tapped on Buck’s name instead. This was easier, it was always easy to talk to Buck.

Chris🕶️

Hey

Buck 🚒

Hey Chris! How’s it going?

Chris🕶️

I’m good

Chris🕶️

Can I ask you a 

question though?

Buck 🚒

Of course! You know I’m 

always here for you buddy!

Chris🕶️

Do u think cas is hot?

Buck 🚒

???

Chris🕶️

from supernatural. 

Chris🕶️

castiel, the angel dude

Chris🕶️

the one you got mad 

died or smth

Buck 🚒

Um, I guess so? Why?

Chris🕶️

Would u date him if he 

was real? Or nah

Buck 🚒

Um… Can I ask why you're 

asking? I guess so, he’s attractive,

yeah, but I think more looks? 

Buck 🚒

Like, I think dating a literal angel

might be kind of difficult, y’know?

I’d be worried about smiting and 

all that.

Chris🕶️

…fair

Buck 🚒

Can I ask why you’re asking?

Chris🕶️

found something of 

dads

Chris🕶️

dont tell him or i’ll tell 

him it was really u that let that baby raccoon 

into the garage

Buck 🚒

Hey! I happen to recall a 

certain 8-year-old who was

VERY insistent we feed it 

leftover over lasagna

Chris🕶️

🧢 cap. 🧢

Chris🕶️

u have no proof

Buck 🚒

Oh I’m pretty sure I have 

receipts🧾🧾🧾

Chris🕶️

never try to be cool 

again ur 2 old for it

Buck 🚒

Slay Skibidi Ohio 

Chris🕶️

BLOCKED. 

Buck 🚒

You just can’t handle my 

status as a memelord

Chris🕶️

yeah righttt

Chris🕶️

🧢 🧢 🧢

Chris🕶️

r u still dating that old 

geezer

Buck 🚒

???

Buck 🚒

Tommy???

Buck 🚒

No. We broke up

Chris🕶️

good. he was a loser

Chris🕶️

ur too good for him

Buck 🚒

Christopher Diaz, that is a 

horrible thing to say about 

someone!

Chris🕶️

nah. 

Chris🕶️

You deserve so much 

better than him, Buck.

Buck 🚒

I… thank you, Chris.

Chris🕶️

can you tell dad to call 

soon?

Buck 🚒

Of course! 

Buck 🚒

You could also, always, maybe

tell him yourself?

Chris🕶️

not yet. but soon. 

depends on if i find out he was a dumbass teen too 

Chris🕶️

don’t tell him i said he was a dumbass, k?

Chris🕶️

i don’t wanna make him cry

Chris🕶️

i know he’s trying and wutever, but i’m still mad. but i don’t want him to cry or anything

Buck 🚒

I won’t tell him.

Buck 🚒

But I really do think you 

should talk to him soon, 

and not just over a zoom 

call

Buck 🚒

He misses you so much, 

we both do.

Chris🕶️

… ok. But not tonite, 

Abuela doesn’t know 

i’m still up

Buck 🚒

Get some sleep, superman.

Buck 🚒

Talk to you soon?

Chris🕶️

pinky promise.

Chapter Text

Chris was starting to understand why his dad and grandparents always seemed so… strained around one another. It wasn’t that his grandparents were bad people necessarily, but they were constantly finding something negative about everything . 

If the three of them went out to eat, they would find ways to paint the waiter as incompetent. They were always quick to point out if the food was underseasoned or the meat overcooked, or if they didn’t think the restaurant was being accommodating enough to Chris (which was just embarrassing and always made Chris want to curl up into a ball and die. Seriously , he was fourteen , he didn’t need his grandparents hovering and acting like he couldn’t advocate for himself if he thought he needed something). 

And they constantly made comments - little tiny passive-aggressive comments about everyone. If they weren’t complaining about a waitress's hair, then it was something about how the priest’s voice had cracked during Mass the past Sunday, or how Abuela’s Bible Study leader had been looking “a little extra… “hefty” lately”. If Abuela saw something she disapproved of, she would make it known through her special brand of snide remarks, and Abuelo always backed her up no matter how rude she was. The few times someone called her out on her comments in front of Abuelo, he’d immediately laid into them for being “overly sensitive” and “not being able to handle a joke.” 

He wondered if that’s what marriage was, backing up your spouse even when they’re wrong and kind of mean. If that was the case, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to get married- it sounded exhausting . 

Chris didn’t want to sound ungrateful, he appreciated his grandparents taking him in at a moment’s notice, but he also couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at how quickly everything had gone down. 

Since first stumbling across his dad’s journal, it had been harder and harder to stay mad at his dad. He was still hurt, and that hurt still simmered beneath the surface ready to spill over at any moment, but the anger had started to ebb. It was confusing and frustrating, and he hated that he felt so at war with himself- with his own emotions. 

If his dad were there, he’d probably start giving some big speech about how “the teenage years can be the hardest”. 

If Buck were there, he’d be giving a familiar ramble about how “the two most difficult years to be a kid are 7th grade and sophomore year, and if you can survive 7th grade , you can survive sophomore year , and if you can survive sophomore year , you can survive anything .” 

Somehow, Chris didn’t think Buck had ever accounted for walking in on your dad in the arms of the clone of your dead mom when he was forming that particular theory. Besides, he wouldn’t start high school until August- which was months away. Hopefully, by then, his dad would come to his senses and man up and come to take him back home to Los Angeles. 

Chris didn’t plan to stay in El Paso forever; just for a few months while he cooled down, sorted out his feelings, and came to terms with everything. He just wanted some time. He figured that’s probably what his dad needed too- time. 

Time. Something his mom didn’t get nearly enough of. 

Thinking about his mom was always difficult, at this point, he’d lived longer without her than he had known her. That realization always made his stomach roll and his heart ache. He didn’t know if he really believed in any god, but his grandparents definitely did. Chris just couldn’t wrap his head around an all-powerful and all-knowing being who would purposely allow any seven-year-old to experience the pain of losing a parent. If there was a God out there, why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he stop the car? Or stop Mom from walking into the street? Wouldn’t an all-knowing and all-loving god want to prevent him from feeling that pain?

He didn’t have an answer for that, but then, he didn’t have an answer for most of the questions that swirled in his head. 

Lifting his head from his pillow, he moved to sit up in bed. He tucked his knees close to his stomach, holding them in place with clasped arms. He felt small, smaller than he had in a long time. 

Chris had been spending a lot of time alone in his room- his dad’s room . Something about being in the same place where his dad had grown up made him feel closer to him, like he was right there beside him, and not 800 miles and two timezones away. He wished that Dad were there, that they could talk like they used to before everything went to shit. 

On their own accord, his eyes flicked over to the floorboard that hid his dad’s journal. He knew he shouldn’t open it again, it was bad enough that he’d invaded Dad’s privacy like that once. Chris would be so pissed if he had a journal and found out that his dad had read it. But still, his fingers itched to remove the floorboard and crack open the ink and parchment portal to his dad’s teenage self. 

Making a decision, Chris unfolded himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed before walking over and crouching down to pick up the loose floorboard. He’d first noticed it while unpacking; he’d accidentally knocked over a bag and noticed the hollow-sounding thunk that tipped him off that everything might not all be what it seemed. One sneakily acquired screwdriver later and he’d discovered the journal that now weighed heavily on his mind. 

Taking it from its hiding place, he returned to his bed and made himself comfortable. Like before, he let the pages fall on their own, taking him to a random page. 

January 29th, 2010

Valentine’s Day is coming up. This will be Shannon and I’s first Valentine’s as a couple!! I really want to make it special for her, she’s my best friend and favorite person after all!

Mom said I should get her some flowers, but Dad said I should go “all out” in order to show her I can “provide for her” or something like that. I didn’t really listen to him if I’m honest, I try to tune most of what he says out whenever he’s home. He never really has anything useful to say after all. 

Chris snorted but instantly felt a pang of guilt. Hadn’t he thought that exact same thing about his dad before? Abuelo might deserve it, but he didn’t know if his dad actually did. 

I have a really good idea for what I can get her though! Theo gave me a mixtape CD the other day after baseball practice and it made me feel really good. It was really cool that he’s been paying attention to what music I like and what I ask the coach to play during practice. He threw a couple extra songs on there that I hadn’t heard before but that he said he thought I’d like. 

There’s a Taylor Swift song on there, I don’t really know anything about her other than the fact Adri and Sophia really seem to like her and like to play that song “Tim McGraw” during their dance-tea parties. They played it at their last one when I let them paint my nails. I still don’t understand why Dad got so upset about that, it’s not like it was pink or anything, it was dark blue (my favorite color) and came right off with the remover mom keeps in the bathroom! He said it was “gay” and another word that I really don’t want to write (starts with an “f”), but I don’t get that- it was just polish and he’s the one who told me to play with the girls and keep them happy! Plus they wouldn’t stop asking and I thought it would look cool- like a rockstar or something. 

Anyway, I liked getting that CD from Theo so much, I figured why not make one for Shannon? I’m sure Theo would let me borrow his CD burner if I asked (he’s always so chill and cool, I still can’t believe we’re friends if I’m honest). 

Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking for the CD:

• Viva La Vida by Coldplay (We both love this song and it played the first time we kissed)

Chris made a face, so much for ever listening to Coldplay again. He did not need that mental image in his head. 

• Crank That (Soulja Boy) by Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em (I always know when it's Shannon’s turn to pick the music for softball practice because I’ll hear this song all the way over at the baseball diamond where we’re having our practice!)

• Lovebug by The Jonas Brothers (Gotta have a love song for Valentine’s Day, plus I feel like it fits how she’s my best friend but we’re together and Tia Pepa always says that we’re “love bugs”. Plus, the Jonas Brothers are actually kinda sick, not that I’d admit that anywhere but here.)

• I Gotta Feeling by The Black-Eyed Peas (it’s fun! And any night with Shannon is a good night! )

• The Climb by Miley Cyrus (Shannon says this is her “big feelings” song)

• Glory Days by Bruce Springsteen (THE baseball song!!!)

• My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson (MY LIFE WOULD SUCK WITHOUT HER!!! She’s my best friend, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without her!)

Chris blinked back a few tears that had begun to sting at his eyes. His dad had been so young, so had his mom. They had no idea what was coming. He double-checked the date on the journal entry- January 29th, 2010. Just a few months later, his parents would find out that Mom was pregnant with him. The story was familiar to him, how Mom had found out just two weeks before Dad’s 18th birthday. Mom was older than Dad, a fact she always teased him about. 

“I’m older and wiser than you, Edmundo.” She’d tease when they were fighting, but the play-fighting that had no bite behind it. Not the kind of fighting that had sent both of them packing on different occasions. 

“Ah yes, that seven months makes such a difference.” Dad would tease back, rolling his eyes fondly and sneaking a kiss to Mom’s cheek. 

“And don’t you forget it!” She’d laugh, smacking Dad lightly on the arm. 

Chris didn’t have a lot of memories of his parents together in Texas, and most of them weren’t all that special. But the good ones, the ones that stood out and still made his insides feel gooey when he remembered them, those were special. 

Sometimes he’d lay awake in bed and stare, pretending that the pale white ceiling was actually a TV through which he could watch and relive his earliest memories. He’d remember one of the few times that his dad had come home on leave. In this memory, his dad had swooped down to lift him up into his arms, twirling him around while peppering him with kisses. When he’d finally put Chris down, he’d reached into his duffel and handed him a wrapped package with a twinkle in his eye. He hadn’t seen that same twinkle since; the closest being the look he sometimes got when Chris and Buck were playing video games and he didn’t know Chris was looking. The package had been a messily wrapped teddy bear- camo and embroidered with the words “Army Strong” on one foot. 

Later, after Dad had left for the army again, his mom had sewn together little blue scrubs for the bear to wear. He didn’t remember what he’d originally called the bear, but at some point, Mom had called it “Teddy Eddie” and the name had stuck. 

Casting his eyes over the bookshelf, Teddy Eddie stared at him with a familiar beady-eyed blank stare. He’d never gotten rid of it, and it was one of the few things that weren’t clothes or his Nintendo Switch that he’d made sure to grab before leaving the house on South Bedford Street for the last time. 

It wasn’t the last time he’d step foot in that house though, he’d be back. Eventually. 

Chris didn’t think he could stomach reading more about his dad’s lovey-dovey playlist for his mom. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens that he would never be so nauseating. 

He flipped open the journal at random again, pausing at a picture of his dad and another boy. They were dressed in baseball uniforms, sweaty and smiling wide with arms slung around each other’s shoulders. 

“Me and Theo after the State Championship” was scrawled across the bottom in his dad’s familiar messy handwriting. 

The picture was worn at the corners like it had been somewhere else for a long time before making its way into the journal. Chris touched the photo lightly, trying hard not to marvel in slight awe at how young his dad looked. While the picture he’d first found of his mom had taken his breath away, this picture well and truly floored him. 

His dad was painfully young, a touch of baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. The familiar stubble that Chris always associated with his dad was nowhere in sight, and his hair was long, long enough that it might’ve covered his eyes had they not been swept off to the side in a look that definitely probably pissed off Abuelo. 

His smile was wide and so carefree it made Chris’s stomach hurt. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was who his dad might’ve been in a world where Chris never existed. If he’d gone on to college, gotten drafted by the Astros, and formed that dynamic baseball-softball duo with Mom that he had once dreamed about. 

Chris knew he shouldn’t think like that, but sometimes the what-ifs won out. 

Shaking his head, he flicked his eyes over to the adjoining page, reading the entry there. 

July 13, 2009

Dad found this picture of me and Theo in my wallet and got weird about it, like weirder than usual. He said it wasn’t “appropriate” for me to have a picture of Theo in my wallet, whatever that means- but I don’t get why not. Dad has a picture of me and the girls in his wallet, and Abuelo used to keep one of Abuela and Tia Pepa in his. Abuela told me that you should always carry pictures of people important to you in a wallet, so I really don’t get why Dad got so weird about it.

I wonder if it’s like the poster thing from when I was a kid. 

Chris scrunched his nose, what poster thing? He didn’t think he’d heard this story before. 

I remember when I was 10 or 11, I hung a picture of Justin Timberlake on my wall and Dad got so mad about it. He explained that it wasn’t “appropriate” or “right” for a boy to have another boy hanging on his wall. I didn’t get it because I just really liked Justin Timberlake’s music but eventually he just straight up told me it was gay to have that poster on my wall. I didn’t know what “gay” was so he told me. I don’t think that’s me, but sometimes I think Dad thinks I am. 

I ended up giving the poster to Sophia and she was thrilled for all of three weeks until Mom heard “Rock Your Body” on the radio and immediately threw Justin in the trash. I had to calm Sophia down after mom started yelling “People who sing about filth are trash, and what do we do with trash? We throw it away!”

I guess I get what Mom was saying, but she didn’t have to say it like that . Sophia was only 8 and we both just liked the beat and how cool Justin Timberlake’s voice was! I wish I could dress like Timberlake, maybe then I’d be cool all the time and not just during baseball season. 

Anyway, I guess Dad probably just doesn’t want rumors going around that Theo and I are gay. It would be stupid if they did because we’re not, we’re just best friends! Abuela called us “David and Jonathan” the other day, like in the Bible. That made Mom smile and she got Dad to stop yelling at me about the picture in my wallet. She said something about how I’m “modeling Biblical friendship”- I don’t think Dad totally bought it but at least he stopped screaming at me. 

Sometimes I write things down in here and then want to rip them out so no one can ever read them. I think I’m gonna find a hiding spot for this journal, it would be just my luck if Sophia or Adrianna got their hands on it. 

I’ll keep the picture of me and Theo here, it feels better than throwing it away like I’m sure Dad wants me to do. He just doesn’t get what me and Theo have, probably because he doesn’t have any friends!

Chris snorted through the tears that had started to sting his eyes, “way to be a savage, Dad” was all he could think while blinking back the tears. 

The entry ended there, and for that Chris was thankful. He didn’t know how much more he could stomach hearing about how homophobic his Abuelo had been. Suddenly, his stomach sank- did Abuelo still think like that?

His mind went to Buck- Buck who was probably his favorite person in the world at the moment, Buck who had saved his life, Buck who had just broken up with his ugly-ass old boyfriend, Buck who was bi. If Abuelo knew that his son’s closest friend in the entire world, the man who’d get custody of Chris if anything bad ever happened to him, liked men the same way he liked women, would he lose his mind and start screaming at Dad again like he had all those years ago? Would he do something somehow worse? 

He sighed, desperately trying to escape that train of thought. Looking for both a distraction as well as answers to the many other questions storming through his mind, he reached for his phone. As soon as he had it unlocked, he opened up Instagram and hesitantly typed “Theo Lindsay” into the search bar. He was pretty sure baseball Theo was the same Theo that Dad had mentioned from the Halloween party. 

A few taps and suddenly he was staring at the now grown-up face of the boy in his dad’s picture. While in the picture, Theo’s hair had been golden blond and wildly curly, now it was streaked with silver and cut short. He scrolled a bit, studying the pictures of the man who had once been his dad’s closest friend. What had happened? Why had he never heard this name before? If his dad’s teenage self was to be believed, they were incredibly close, and yet, Chris had never once heard the name “Theo Lindsay” fall from his father’s lips. 

Suddenly something caught Chris’s eye- a photo from a few months back. It was an anniversary post; the first picture showing Theo Lindsay hand in hand in matching suits with another man. The caption read:

“Our souls have been knit into one, and so, my David, I love you as I love my own soul. I’ve loved you since the moment I first knew you five years ago, and I will love you until we’re food for the worms to eat.”

Hastily, Chris closed out of the app and flung it onto the blue comforter. He took off his glasses so he could rub at his eyes, trying to piece together the clues he wasn’t entirely sure were from the same puzzle. 

He took a deep breath, allowing his thoughts to race before reaching for his phone once again. This time, he went straight to his messages, quickly tapping on his most recent conversation (that wasn’t Marie from Chess Club).

Chris🕶️

can i ask u smth weird

Buck 🚒

Always!!

Buck 🚒

You know I love weird questions!

Chris🕶️

do u kno who david and jonathan r?

Chris🕶️

like, in the bible?

Buck 🚒

Yeah! I fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole 

about them a while back!

Buck 🚒

Why do you ask?

Chris🕶️

were they gay?

Buck 🚒

I mean, I think so? It’s hard to say

with historical/religous/whatever 

figures, especially after King James 

decided to take his internalized biphobia

out on everyone and re-write the Bible.

Chris🕶️

what’s “internalized biphobia”

Buck 🚒

It’s like when someone grows up

around a lot of homophobia and 

bigotry so they internalize that

and try to deny their sexuality

because they’ve been taught 

that if they live openly who they

are that they’re “sinful”. 

Buck 🚒

Some people will have internalized

homophobia to the point the believe 

that it’s okay for everyone EXCEPT

they themselves to be queer. It’s very 

sad and a lot of people struggle with it.

Chris🕶️

do u?

Buck 🚒

Me? No, I wouldn’t say so. I’m very

happy about being bi and am just

relieved to know myself better now,

y’know? It should’ve been more

obvious in hindsight, but well…

Chris🕶️

Oh… that makes sense

Chris🕶️

Can I ask u smth else?

Buck 🚒

Of course!

Buck 🚒

What’s your question?

Chris🕶️

has my dad ever mentioned 

a theo lindsay???

Buck 🚒

Not that I can recall? Why, is that a 

name I should know?

Chris🕶️

idk.

Chris🕶️

found something of dad’s and he was 

mentioned a lot

Chris🕶️

apparently he was dad’s bestie or smth in

high school but i’ve never heard of him

Chris🕶️

thought maybe he’d mentioned him

to u or smth

Buck 🚒

Nope, never. I could ask though?

Say that you mentioned the name?

Chris🕶️

NO

Chris🕶️

don’t tell him i asked PLEASE

Buck 🚒

Um… can I ask why?

Chris🕶️

I uh… may or may not have found 

his old journal... 👀💀

Buck 🚒

And you read it?

Chris🕶️

…i plead the fifth…

Chris🕶️

anyway, just like, don’t mention it to him???

Buck 🚒

Tell you what, I won’t say anything

Chris🕶️

THANK YOU BUCK

Buck 🚒

IF

Buck 🚒

And ONLY if

Chris🕶️

r u gonna ask me for my kidney or smth???

Buck 🚒

You promise to call your dad this

weekend. 

Chris🕶️

… 

Chris🕶️

…okay. 

Chris🕶️

but u have to buy me icecream AND a 

new switch game when i come back

Buck 🚒

You make that call and promise

to come home soon and I’ll buy

you as many switch games as you want.

Buck 🚒

Just don’t tell your dad I enabled your

switch addiction

Chris🕶️

u’ve got a deal🤝

Chapter Text

“Chris, honey,  it’s time to wake up.”

Chris blinked slowly, vision blurry as he reached for his glasses. But instead of the familiar landscape of his messy bedside table, his hand hit something hot that immediately gave way when he tried to grab at it- sand? Why the hell was there sand on his bedside table?

A giggle pierced through his groggy thoughts. “Wake up, sweetheart, we don’t have much time left!” 

He blinked slowly, eyes heavier than they’d ever been before. There was a figure leaning over him. It was blurry but clearly human, head illuminated by the setting sun behind it.

He moved to carefully rub the sleep from his eyes, only removing them when the figure moved to gently place his glasses on his face.

He blinked again, vision clearing now that he had his glasses on. Slowly, the figure came into focus, causing him to suck in a deep and trembling breath. 

“M-mom?” He whispered, eyes wide now, wider than he thought they’d ever been before. 

The figment of his mom laughed, twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks accentuating the sound of that all-too-familiar laugh. 

She looked exactly how he remembered her- bangs gracing her forehead and wearing a cream cardigan and a blue flowered dress that had always been one of his favorites, even as a kid he knew that the color was exactly right to make her brown waves shine and eyes glow bright. 

Instinctively he reached for her, but even as his hand grasped at the sleeve of her cardigan, she changed. 

In an instant, gone was the familiar image of his mom that he had clung to since she left El Paso all those years before, and in its place, a carbon copy of the softball photo he had stumbled upon when he first cracked open his dad’s journal.

He couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, taking in this new version of his mom. Her hair was pulled back in two French braids, they were tied off at the ends with tiny ponytail holders adorned with two yellow softball-shaped beads each. She was younger, no signs of stress or weariness etched their way across her face- she looked wild and free and happy. Truly happy. 

“Of course, it’s me, silly! Who else would it be? Amelia Earhart?”

His mom had loved Amelia Earhart, she’d often read him bedtime stories about the famous pilot. Once, she told him about how she used to dream about flying all around the world just like Amelia Earhart. “I’d see it all! Every city and town and tree and flower!”

“What about me, mommy? Can I come too?” He would always ask.

“Of course! What would I do without the world’s best co-pilot?” She’d tease before launching into a tickle attack and laughing joyously while he squealed. 

Shaking his head back to reality, he could do nothing but stare mutely at her until she finally grabbed his hand and began to gently pull him up off the ground and towards the coastline. It looked like they were on a beach somewhere. Somehow, it felt both like he was at Dockweiler back in L.A. and the beach at Corpus Christi his parents had taken him to once when he was very little. The world around him felt both familiar and strange, as if daring him to question it. 

He chose not to, for the moment. 

He let himself be pulled along by this younger version of his mom, one only a few years older than himself.

“Eddie!” She called out joyfully, her voice ringing out over the sound of roaring ocean waves. “It’s Chris! Christopher is here!”

A loud whoop rang out from behind a small dune. As they made their way to the top of it, Chris looked down to see the familiar figure of his dad waiting for them below. He too, though, was changed. His hair was longer, cheeks fuller and more boyish, and gone were any signs of stress or the pain of loss. 

His dad was dressed in a pair of jeans, faded and fraying at the knees. A Dodgers jersey hung open over a plain black shirt. When he turned slightly, Chris could just make out the player’s name on the back: “BURKE #3”. 

He tried to rack his brain in an effort to think about who “BURKE #3” was, but the only thing he could vaguely remember was a conversation/info-dumping session with Buck after Buck had gone on a research binge about baseball prior to going to a Dodgers game with him and his dad. “BURKE #3” had done something important, but for the life of him, Chris couldn’t remember.

He had bigger things to focus on anyway; like the teenage phantoms of his parents currently throwing a baseball back and forth like they didn’t have a care in the world. Like they had all the time in the world. 

“Come on, Chris! Grab a glove and join us!” Dad called out, beaming at him from where he stood in the golden sand.

Hesitantly, Chris took his eyes off his parents for a moment, turning to look around. Next to him, half buried in the sand was a baseball glove. He could’ve sworn nothing had been there a moment ago, but then, nothing rational was happening anyway. 

He carefully picked up the glove, shaking away the sand clinging to the softened leather. He slipped it over his hand, holding it to his face and breathing in the familiar scent of his dad’s preferred brand of baseball glove oil. It was a fancy one he had to order from somewhere online; Dad always swore it was the best, “straight from Cooperstown itself!” he’d always joke. 

His dad might not play a lot of baseball these days, but he always kept his glove in prime condition; ready for the day when it would finally get to leave the garage and find its way to a pitcher’s mound. 

He hesitated slightly as he made his way towards his mom and dad, “I’m not really the best thrower-” he warned, feeling almost embarrassed. He knew he shouldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault that despite the many days spent throwing the ball around with his dad, there were days when the muscles in his arms would tighten, staying painfully rigid no matter how he tried to stretch. But now, looking at the ease with which his parents, both high school stars on the baseball and softball diamonds, threw the ball back and forth made something in his chest rumble with a pained envy. 

He didn’t often experience that feeling, but when he did, it ached. 

His dad had never believed in limitations for Chris, actively seeking out ways for Chris to participate in any activity he wanted to. The modified skateboard that Dad and Buck had put together was still one of his favorite and most treasured memories. The exhilaration he’d felt at getting to fly down the sidewalk had been all he could talk about for weeks after, and even now, it made him smile. Maybe his dad, despite all his flaws, really was an exceptional father. 

“Nuh-uh!” the phantom of his dad’s teenage years called back, his youth shining for a moment. “I don’t believe that for a second. C’mon, I bet you’re a regular Shohei Ohtani!”

Shohei? Thought Chris, how does he know who Shohei Ohtani is? 

Something about his seventeen-year-old father referencing the 2024 World Series star made his brain itch, reminding him of how wrong this all was. 

His mom paused, placing the baseball in her mitt so she could place her free hand on her hip and study him. It was almost unnerving, the way her sharp eyes appraised him before suddenly nodding approvingly.

“No, I bet he’s a regular Ryan Braun .” She grinned smugly. She tossed one of her braids over her shoulder for both emphasis and sass. 

Dad let out a pained groan, “What is it with you and Ryan Braun !?” 

Mom shrugged, a devious grin on her face. “National League Rookie of the Year 2007, what can I say?” She said as innocently as she could while still smirking at Dad. She turned slightly to wink at Chris as if they were in on this joke together. 

“Exactly! National League, Shannon! National!” 

“What’s wrong with the National League, Edmundo?” Mom teased, giggling as Dad threw his hands up in exasperation, eyes rolled to the heavens. 

“The Astros are part of the American League! ” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

It wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, that’s not right.” Chris couldn’t help but interrupt. At once, both his parents swiveled to face him fully, confusion written clearly across their faces. Chris blushed, suddenly embarrassed even though he knew he was right. He looked down, toeing a line in the sand with his shoe. “The Astros didn’t join the American League until 2013.”

He dared to look up only to be met by blinks of confusion from his parents. Suddenly, they flickered for a second, their forms shifting like static. For a brief moment, they were themselves again, as Chris knew them now- older and wiser and hiding their battle scars. 

“That’s… right, how could I forget?” His dad murmured, just soft enough to hear. His face was gray, his chin stubbled, and heavy bags circled his somber eyes. To put it gently, he looked like shit. 

“It’s okay, Eddie, I forgot too,” Mom responded, reaching over to touch his shoulder.

This time, it was Chris’s turn to blink, and in a flash, they were back to how they’d been- teenaged and youthful and laughing as if nothing in the world mattered. Gone were Dad’s gaunt and sunken cheeks and Mom’s familiar blue dress, in their place- his parents at their prime; before life kicked in and kicked their asses. 

Chris must have looked pained because suddenly he was being engulfed in a hug, the kind his mom used to call a “Christopher Sandwich”. His dad hugged his left side and his mom hugged his right, making sure that he felt all the love they were pouring into him. He hadn’t felt this since he was very small; before his mom left Texas and his dad decided to follow after. 

He couldn’t help it, he started crying.

“ Shhh… It’s okay mijo, it’s okay. ” His dad whispered, pressing a soft but firm kiss to Chris’s curls. 

“Chris, we’re right here, I’m right here.” His mom murmured, chin resting on his head as she cradled him close. 

“But you’re not. ” He sobbed, the ache in his chest he’d been trying to push away couldn’t be ignored now. All the feelings he’d been holding close to his chest were ripped away from him by the onslaught of tears. His shoulders shook and he hated how small and weak he felt. 

“You’re not .” He continued, wide and wet eyes turning towards his mom accusingly. “You left. You left me .” He took in a deep and shuddering breath before turning towards his father, anger simmering in his bones. “And you- you- ” he started accusingly, but all at once, the fight left him. 

His dad didn’t leave him, not really. It was Chris who had left, not his dad, not this time. 

“Chris, mijo,” his dad sounded heartbroken, voice softer and further away than it had been before. Chris looked up suddenly, unaware that he had ever closed his eyes. His parents were no longer holding him, instead, his mother stood with her feet in the crashing waves, his father on the top of the rolling dune. They were old again, and somehow that comforted him. 

He turned his back to his father, reaching instead towards his mother’s form. But he couldn’t move, locked in place by an invisible force. “Mom! Please!” he called to her, begging and pleading with her to run to him. But she didn’t, turning instead and walking into the sea, the rising waves threatening to engulf her. 

“Chris,” his father’s voice was a whisper, and yet it could’ve shaken Everest. “She’s gone.”

“NO!” Chris roared, desperately reaching for his mother’s retreating form, “I just need more time! It’s not fair! It’s not fair !” 

“I know, Chris,” Dad’s voice trembled, “ I know. ” 

He turned around, suddenly able to move but seemingly only towards his father. His frame shook, desperate to chase after his mom, but his feet would not carry him towards the water. 

“Do something,” He begged, “ please! ”

“I can’t.” Was his dad’s reply, “You know that if I could, I would have a long time ago.” 

He paused, only the roaring crash of the waves and Chris’s own sobs audible across the shoreline. 

“But she’ll never be gone, not completely.” He looked Chris in the eyes, gaze intense and worldly in a way Chris had seldom seen before. “She lives on in you.”

Chris wanted to scream, but instead, he awoke with a gasp, nearly tumbling off the bed in his shock. He’d fallen asleep while reading his dad’s journal. He cringed as he tried to wipe away the small puddle of drool that had accumulated on the open page. His stomach ached and he tried to shake away the feeling of dread his dream had left him with. 

He reached for his phone to check the time: 12:18 AM.  

It was late, but with the time difference, there was a chance that his dad was still awake. Hesitantly, he clicked on his dad’s contact card. 

It didn’t even take a full ring. 

“Hello? Chris? Is everything okay?” His dad’s voice was groggy but panicked; as if he was the one who’d just awoken from the strangest dream in the history of the world. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Chris replied, internally still reeling from the dream.

“Are you sure? It’s like midnight your time.” It wasn’t quite an admonishment, but Chris almost wished it was. His dad had been so cautious since Chris had left, so afraid of saying the wrong thing and sending Chris running in the other direction. 

To be fair, Chris hadn’t really given him a reason to not be cautious. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” He paused, unsure of what to say next. After a long and quiet moment filled with only the sound of their own breaths, he continued quietly. “I just had a weird dream.”

“A weird dream, huh?” Dad questioned, and if Chris was a betting man and not a broke 14-year-old, he would’ve sworn he could hear a smile in his dad’s words. “Well I know a thing or two about those, Buck is always telling me his.” 

Chris made a noise to show he was listening, willing his dad to keep talking. Neither of them was a natural gold-star yapper, that was Buck’s role. When he was younger, he might have shared the title, but the angst of teenage hormones and not wanting to stand out amongst his peers had quelled that in him as of late. 

“Something about how all three of us were fish, but Australian fish? Apparently that was a really important detail.” 

“Sounds like something Buck would dream up.”

“The inner machinations of his mind are an enigma.”

“Did you… did you just make a Spongebob reference?”

His dad laughed, the most real and joyful laugh he’d heard out of him in months. “Can’t let my kid be the only cool one around!”

“Dad, I hate to break it to you but Spongebob hasn’t been cool since I was like, twelve.”

“Which was only two years ago, so…” Yep, definitely a smile in his voice. 

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. 

Another pause. “So um, how’s everything?” Chris mentally hit himself, wishing to god that it was easier to talk to his dad like this. He wanted to hear his voice, he also still kinda wanted to kick his dad in the knees. But he didn’t want to punch him in the face anymore, baby steps . 

“Okay, not terrible around here all things considered.” 

That didn’t sound very reassuring. 

“I uh… I heard Buck and his geriatric boyfriend broke up.”

“Tommy? Yeah, he and Buck broke up.” Chris couldn’t help but think that his dad almost sounded a bit pleased about it. 

“What happened?” He had a suspicion, but he wanted to be careful. One wrong move could send the whole conversation crashing. 

“Um, Buck hasn’t really given the full story to anyone, I think he needs some time yet. Something about how when he asked Tommy to move in-”

“He asked the old man to move in!?” Chris nearly choked on air, eyes bulging. 

“I thought you liked Tommy?”

“Liked, Dad. The keyword is “ liked ”.” 

His dad’s frown was audible. “Did he do something to make you not like him anymore?”

“I don’t know, did he do something to make you not like him anymore?” He couldn’t help but snark back.

Another pause, “He’s out of the picture now, so it doesn’t really matter.”

That might be as close of an admission as Chris was going to get tonight, but it was fine. He needed to do some more digging while he formed his hypothesis anyway. Was it a hypothesis if you were already a hundred percent sure you were correct anyway?

Chris waited through another awkward pause. “Well, anyway, I was thinking… thinking…” he trailed off.

“Thinking…?” Dad pressed gently.

“I was thinking maybe you could come visit soon? Maybe with Buck?”

His dad let out a lengthy sigh, “that’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Chris’s brows knit together in confusion, was his dad finally getting his head out of his ass and coming to get him on his own accord?

“I’ve actually been thinking a lot about this, and I decided…” He cleared his throat, clearly unsure of what Chris’s reaction would be and how to continue. Chris’s head whirled, decided what?

“I decided to move to El Paso. Your Abuela thinks it wouldn’t be good to move you back again mid-year and you seem so happy there and well… I miss you, mijo.”

Chris’s blood ran cold. This was not the plan, not the plan at all. He’d left to clear his head and maybe stick it to his dad a little bit- not once had it ever crossed his mind that his dad would try to move to El Paso. This was bad, this was so bad.

“No.” 

“No? I’m afraid I don’t understand-”

“No. You’re not moving to El Paso.”

“I kind of already put down a down-payment on a house there…”

“Well un-put it down! You can’t move here!” Chris hissed, suddenly aware that he was the only one awake in the house and that he did not want to wake Abuelo and Abeula for this. 

“Do you… do you not want me to come to El Paso?” His dad questioned softly, something like hurt sparking in his voice. 

“I want you to get your head out of your ass and come get me ! You can’t leave L.A., our whole life is there! All my friends, all your friends, Buck is in L.A.!” 

“Chris…” His dad started.

“No! You’re not moving and that’s the end of the story!” 

And with that, he hung up on his dad and threw his phone across the room, shattering it.

Chapter Text

January 4th, 2010

Dad made me cut my hair. 

He said that it was getting too long and “girly” and that if I let it grow any longer people would start to “question things.” 

I’m REALLY pissed off about it. 

I LIKED my hair the way it WAS, now I just look STUPID.

Dad was mad at me because he found out about the Christmas gift I got for Theo. I don’t how that’s ANY of HIS business, but he DECIDED it was and then got pissed at ME even though HE was the one sticking his nose where it DOESN’T BELONG .

When Shannon and I went to the mall a few weeks ago we decided to get our Christmas shopping done. Our friend group decided to do Secret Santa and I pulled Theo, Shannon pulled Heather McIntyre; her best friend who’s on the volleyball team. We were both so happy and excited! She ended up getting Heather this personalized bracelet thing with different charms on it. She had a lot of fun putting it together and picking out all the different beads and charms and stuff. It ended up looking pretty cool, I’m sure Heather loved it when she opened it up. 

I don’t really have a lot of money but Dad gave me 50 bucks that morning before we left for the mall. I was shocked because he’s never given me money like that before, usually, if I want money from my parents I have to have one of the girls ask for me because they’re wayyy more likely to actually get money from my parents. But Dad slipped me a crisp 50-dollar bill when I left to go pick up Shannon. He seemed really happy then and even winked and told me to “buy something special.”

I guess he didn’t realize that Shannon and I were going shopping for Secret Santa and he must’ve thought I was buying Shannon a gift. I did buy her a present, but I used my lawn-mowing money leftover from this summer to buy her a copy of the second Hunger Games book since she hadn’t gotten it yet for herself and had borrowed Heather’s copy to read when it came out a couple of months ago. 

Shannon loved her gift from me! She says Katniss Everdeen is her favorite book character ever. She says that if they ever make the first book into a movie that she wants to audition to play her. I can see it, Shannon always finds a way to do both the spring musical and softball at the same time. If she didn’t play softball, I bet she’d get the lead every time instead of the smaller roles she usually gets. But she really loves both, so she makes it work even though all our friends know she would love to be the lead. But she loves pitching even more than acting. I understand that, I don’t know if there’s anything I love more than baseball. Plus, with Theo as the team catcher, baseball is cooler than ever. 

Anyway, Dad found out that I used that $50 to buy Theo a new glove. Technically, the glove was actually more expensive than that- I used to last little bit of lawn-mowing money I had leftover from Shannon’s gift to get a nicer glove. It’s not top-of-the-line or anything, but it’s really nice and the employee swore it was the best quality for the price. It also has this cool blue and red lacing that I thought Theo would like! 

Theo DID like it. I was kind of embarrassed handing him the gift this morning at school. It was our first day back after Christmas break and he’d been gone all break to see some family out in California, so this was my first chance to give it to him. I wrapped it myself and you could tell. I tried really hard to wrap it neatly, but it’s so much harder than it looks! But Theo loved it, he got red in the face when I handed it to him and even redder when he ripped away the wrapping paper. I was so nervous that he didn’t like it and it must’ve shown on my face because he immediately threw his arms around me and hugged me in the middle of the hallway. He kept thanking me and said he was so excited to start breaking it in! I was so happy that he was so happy, I couldn’t stop smiling the whole day!

Until I got home. 

Someone must’ve seen Theo hugging me and told their parents, who then called my parents to complain. I don’t get how it’s anyone’s business and why people get so freaked out when guys hug. The girls at school hug all the time ! And no one gives a rat’s ass about them! But Theo hugs me one time after getting a Christmas present from me and suddenly Dad’s threatening to look into “special summer camps”. 

Mom kept trying to calm him down, I don’t really know what kind of summer camps Dad was talking about but they didn’t sound fun. Mom kept trying to compromise so Dad finally grabbed a pair of scissors out of a kitchen drawer. I thought he was gonna stab me.

Instead, he forced me down into one of the dining room chairs and started cutting clumps of my hair off. I was trying really hard not to cry because I knew that would only set him off more. Dad hates it when I cry, he says it’s not “manly” and that only girls are supposed to cry. I feel like most dads would want to make their son feel better if he was crying, but not my dad. 

If I ever have a son, I swear I’m gonna be way better than my dad. I’m gonna make sure my son knows it’s okay to cry and feel things and not tell him to “shut up” all the time and get mad at him for no reason. I’m gonna take him to the zoo and not get angry when he messes up and I’m gonna listen to him when he talks to me.

Chris couldn’t keep reading, his vision was too blurred with tears. 

When he’d come to El Paso, he’d been bitter and angry. He didn’t hate his dad, but he hated what his dad had done. He’d spent weeks if not months doing his best to pretend that his father didn’t exist- resenting every happy memory like they were each individual slaps to the face.

But his dad, his dad was human . That much had been made clear through journal entry after journal entry, and now Christopher longed to run straight home into his father’s arms and tell him that he forgave him. That he understood. 

Buck had talked once about the importance of “breaking cycles” and how sometimes, people acted a certain way because it’s what they learned from their parents, who learned from their parents, and so on and so on all the way back through the centuries. Hen had said something once about how “hurt people hurt people”. Maybe his dad had been acting like a wounded dog not because of any physical wounds he’d acquired over the years, but instead because of the wounds his childhood had left on him. The wounds his parents had left on him. 

Chris could hear Abuela doing laundry down the hall, and he knew that if he got up to look out the window he’d see Abuelo lounging in a lawn chair by the pool, sleeping in the shade with a book on World War II splayed across his chest. 

He needed to leave. 

Dad was moving to El Paso; it might as well have been the end of the world. It didn’t matter how nice his grandparents were to him, they had clearly put his dad through some serious shit growing up and Chris would be damned if he was the reason that his dad returned for good to the scene of the crime. 

He needed to stay in L.A., Chris needed to go back to L.A., and they needed to be together again far away from the place that had robbed his dad of his sense of self.

The only time Chris had ever seen his dad truly happy and whole and not holding anything back were the moments when it was the three of them. Him, Dad, and Buck. 

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that his dad had been in love with his best friend Theo. And the more he thought about that , the more convinced he became that his dad was actively, actually in love with Buck. He was pretty sure Buck felt the same way too. 

But nothing would ever happen if Dad moved to El Paso. He’d play the martyr and fall on his sword and surrender to the stifling expectations of his parents. And Buck, the realest and best friend Chris had ever had, Buck would play the part of the supportive best friend even while his heart was actively breaking into pieces.

And it would all be Chris’s fault. 

He had to stop it. 

So Chris did what fourteen-year-olds did best, he schemed.  

It didn’t take much convincing to get his Abuela to agree to take him to the swimming pool conveniently located just a few city blocks away from the Greyhound Bus Terminal. Dylan T’s mom would not be waiting inside as he claimed, but Abuela didn’t need to know that. And if all the money that he’d been saving up from the allowance his grandparents had so kindly been giving him since he came to live with them made its way into his backpack along with a couple of his favorite t-shirts and a change of underwear, who would be any wiser? He’d slipped his iPad into the side pocket along with a pair of headphones, and his dad’s journal into the other. 

The plan was fool-proof, he’d have his Abuela drop him off at the pool, wait inside until she left, and then make his way three blocks south until he reached the bus station. He had around two hundred dollars saved (aside from his grandparent’s allowance, both his dad and Buck had sent several cards with money in them, plus there was the cash leftover from a birthday party filled with relatives who had no clue what to buy a teenage boy they hardly knew). Then, he’d board the bus and spend the next 17 hours making his way halfway across the country and back home to L.A., where he belonged.

It was the only way to make sure that his dad didn’t fuck both their lives up and move to El Paso; the only way Chris could think of to try and make up for his own mistake of running from his dad instead of talking things through. 

There was only one problem: his phone was broken. 

He’d stupidly thrown it across the room and smashed it against the closet door when he’d found out about his dad’s plan to irrevocably fuck their lives up. He’d tried to convince his grandparents to buy him a new one, but his Abuela had freaked when she’d found him using her phone to look up BURKE #3 . His iPad had been dead and his phone smashed and unusable, and the name from his dream had been haunting him ever since he’d awoken in a cold sweat. 

It turned out BURKE #3 was Glenn Burke, a former player for the Dodgers and the first professional baseball player to come out. Abuela had not been thrilled to find her grandson on a Buck-style deep dive into the history of queer representation in sports. He’d only barely convinced her not to call his dad and chew him out about “allowing his son to know about such things,” despite the fact that Chris was fourteen and had a little something called “free will”, and had spent most of his life in fucking Los Angeles. 

That interaction had really sealed his decision in stone. If that’s how Abuela reacted to him just reading about gay people, he really didn’t want to be around when she found out about Buck, or Buck and his dad.  

They had to be in love , Chris thought, it explains everything. 

And it did. If his dad was gay, it explained his relationships with Ana and Marisol, how he’d latched on to the woman - Chris still couldn’t bring himself to say her name- and how he’d never actually seemed all that invested in his romantic relationships. Chris had had to coach his dad through asking out Marisol, and even then it had been weird. She’d moved in and then out over the course of like thirty-six hours. That was not normal. Meanwhile, Buck had basically been living with them for years and there’d never once been a problem. On more than one occasion, he’d gotten out of bed to use the bathroom after Buck had left movie night and found his dad staring at the closed door like he was a kicked puppy waiting for it’s owner to come home. 

His dad was in love with Buck. It should’ve been a bigger revelation than it was. 

The thought did make him nervous. His dad had a terrible track record with relationships and they always ended with someone leaving (first Mom, then Ana, and then the triple whammy of Marisol, that woman , and Chris himself). 

But maybe, just maybe , if his dad tried dating a man, tried dating Buck , it would stick. 

Maybe that’s why all Dad’s relationships had failed before; because they weren’t Buck . 

Maybe he’d been waiting for Buck for a long time , longer than Chris had been alive. 

Maybe Buck had been waiting for him too. 

All of this he contemplated as he waited in line at the bus station, clutching his wallet like it was a lifeline. 

“One ticket to Los Angeles, please.” He said when he finally made it to the front of the line. 

The ticket-taker gave him an appraising eye. She was an older woman, grey hair pulled back in a severe bun, lips seemingly permanently turned down in a wrinkled frown, and piercing grey eyes looking him up and down, taking in his crutches and his sheepish grin. 

“You got a parent around, kid?” She finally asked in a deep southern drawl, turning back to her computer to type something in. 

“No,” he admitted. “I’m traveling back home after visiting my grandparents. My dad’s gonna be waiting for me in L.A.” 

Her frown deepened. “Is that so?”

He nodded eagerly, hoping that going for earnestness would earn him some points. 

She sighed heavily, “Got an I.D.?”

Chris sent a prayer of thanks to the universe that Buck had convinced his dad of the importance of getting Chris a minor I.D. in case of emergencies. It hadn’t really taken much convincing, but he was grateful nonetheless. 

He fumbled for his wallet, carefully taking out the I.D. and handing it over. 

“California.” She grunted, studying the card that identified him as both a Californian and a resident of Los Angeles. 

“Yep.” He affirmed, “That’s home. So if you wouldn’t mind…” he trailed off pointedly. 

She huffed, muttering something unintelligible under he breath. “That’ll be $83.35.”

Thank god for birthdays, Chris thought as he handed over the money. He ignored the unimpressed look the ticket-taker gave his pile of random bills. 

“Keep the change.” He said with a shit-eating grin. Success .

She just huffed again and handed him the ticket. “No refunds or exchanges. The bus leaves in twenty minutes with or without you. You can make your way to terminal 13.” She gestured vaguely to the doors the people ahead of him in line had disappeared through. 

“Thanks!” He grinned, clutching his ticket while maneuvering his crutches around the dropped bag of the person next in line. 

He made his way through the sliding doors, but instead of heading straight to the terminal, he high-tailed it over the payphone. 

Sliding in a few coins, he then dialed Buck’s number. 

It rang a few times before directing him to leave a message. It was perfect, just what he had hoped for. 

“Hey Buck, it’s uh, it’s me Chris.” He cleared his throat. 

“I’m gonna guess you're at work and didn’t want to pick up on an unknown number. Which like, valid, I get that. But you better check your messages ASAP because I’m gonna need you to pick me up in about,” he checked his watch, “seventeen hours give or take. Can you do that? I’m gonna need you to be at Los Angeles Union Station at around 4:20 tomorrow morning. I’m coming home, okay? Don’t worry, I’m gonna call Dad too. I need both of you there to pick me up, okay? I don’t have my phone- long story, I’ll fill you in when you pick me up. I do have my iPad so you could message me there but IDK if I’m gonna have Wi-Fi or not on the bus so like, don’t plan on it? Just make sure you're at Union Station in Los Angeles at 4:20 AM. I won’t even make you buy me that video game you promised as long as you;re there to get me. 4:20 AM. Union Station. Terminal 13. Okay? Got it?” 

He took another breath, steadying himself. “Okay, I’ll see you soon, love you.”

He hung up quickly, trying to get a grip before dialing the next number. 

The phone rang once, twice, and then- “Hello?” 

Shit. Chris mentally swore, his dad wasn’t supposed to pick up. 

“Uh, hi Dad.” He grimaced at the awkwardness in his own voice.

“Chris? Is everything okay? Why are you calling me from a payphone number? Where are your grandparents, is everything okay? Are you hurt?” The panic in his dad’s voice was palpable, and Chris couldn’t help but wince. This was why he’d been counting on his dad not picking up and being able to leave a message. 

“Everything’s fine Dad,” he tried to sound assuring. “I just need you to pick me up-”

“Pick you up where?”  His voice was rising, clearly trying to remain calm and struggling. “Where are you?”

“I’m still in Texas, the bus hasn’t left yet-”

“What bus?” Dad demanded, “Chris, your not making sense-”

“Just, just listen Dad.” Mercifully, his dad didn’t interrupt him. “I’m fine, Abuelo and Abuela are fine, everyone is fine. ” He took a deep breath for strength. “But I need you to pick me up tomorrow morning at 4:20ish at Union Station in L.A.”

“What? Union Station? L.A.? What are you talking about, Chris?” His dad sounded like he was on the edge of both tears and a panic attack. Fuck. This was not what Chris had planned. His dad wasn’t supposed to pick up the phone. It would’ve been so much easier if he had just been able to leave a message. 

“I’m coming home, Dad.” His words were met with a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

“Y-you are?” His dad asked wetly. 

“Yeah. And you’re not moving to El Paso. I’m coming home.”

“Chris-”

“Are you gonna pick me up or not?” Chris asked bluntly, tapping his toe against the dirty linoleum. He needed to wrap this up and get on the bus. “ With or without you, ” the lady had said, and Chris didn’t want to risk it. 

His dad was silent for what felt like an eon. “Do you really think I wouldn’t drop everything to come get you?” It was said softly, the words of a man broken down by the world.

“I know you would,” Chris responded equally softly. “I have to go though, the bus is gonna leave soon. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you.” 

Before his dad could say anything else, Chris did the hardest thing he had done since running from L.A., he hung up.

Only when he had boarded the bus and made his way to a seat in the back did he allow himself to breathe again. He was doing it, he was going home. 

It was going to be okay.

Knowing that his journey ahead would be long, he carefully put on his headphones and turned on some music. With only a little trepidation, he pulled out the journal that had started this. Hesitantly, he let it fall open to a random entry, as he had done many times before.

April 3rd, 2010

Shannon and I talked today, she told me something she never told anyone before. She said that sometimes during math class, she can't help but stare at the way that Heather McIntyre twirls her hair around her pencil. She asked me if I'd ever noticed.

I was honest, I haven't. 

I asked her if she'd ever noticed the way Theo has dimples whenever he smiles. He doesn't always have them, only when he's really smiling- when he means it.

She told me “no”, she'd never noticed that before.

I don't know what it means that she's noticed Heather twirling her hair but not Theo’s dimples, and that I've noticed Theo's dimples but never Heather's hair twirling, but it feels, significant? I guess? I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like somehow Shannon gets me more than anyone else in the whole wide world. When I'm with her, I feel… settled, like she's the only person who's ever understood me. Most of the time, I feel like she's the only person who's ever even tried.

Chris swallowed down the urge to cry. He desperately wished he could reach through the page and see his parents, to talk to them, to hear them as they had once been- before their world had changed forever. They had been best friends, best friends . Chris wished he could have seen that. 

He read through the passage again, pausing at the name Heather McIntyre. His mom had studied the way this Heather had twirled her hair, his dad had been seemingly entranced by Theo’s dimples. Was it possible that both his parents were…? 

He flipped again. 

April 29th, 2010

Everyone is having sex. Shannon and I haven’t yet, but people are starting to ask why we haven’t when we’ve been together for over a year. I don’t know how to explain without sounding like I’m totally nuts that it’s never really crossed either of our minds. We’ve talked about it, yeah, but neither of us feels like it’s necessary when our relationship is already so good. 

Alex Reyes hasn’t shut up about it since he found out, keeps calling us the “weirdo virgins.” Part of me wants to do it just to get him to shut up. 

Chris couldn’t flip away from that entry fast enough. 

Instead, he went back to the beginning, where his dad had glued in photos of all his friends. There was a whole section of photos dedicated to his mom, most with her hair braided hair flying and smile wider than the Pacific. In every photo, his mom seemed to be in motion, even the posed ones with friends. He could imagine how she must have been, vibrant and alive and always on the move- ready for the future that she had spent her life dreaming about. 

This version of his mom had no clue that her life would be cut short before she could turn twenty-seven. She would never reach her thirties, would never grow old, forever twenty-six. It wasn’t fair.

He spent the next few hours just paging through the journal, returning back to the photos of his teenaged parents after every entry until sleep finally came for him and he was rocked to sleep by the motion of the bus, dreaming that it was his mother’s gentle hands rocking him instead.

“Buck,” Eddie was standing in the doorway, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost. They were in the middle of a 72 off and had made plans to watch some movies together that afternoon. Buck paused the TV and slowly lowered the remote, concern etching its way across his face. 

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to gauge his next course of action based on Eddie’s body language. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Chris, he-” Eddie barely managed to choke out, hands fisted and white-knuckled. “He-”

Buck was immediately up and out of his seat. “What happened to Chris? Is he okay?” He put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, knowing that the other man would need the grounding touch. 

“Yeah- he- he’s on a bus?” He said it like a question.

“On a bus.” Buck echoed, “Why is he on a bus?” He tried to speak gently, prodding for more information.

“He, he said he’s coming home. That we need to pick him up from Union Station at 4 AM tomorrow.”

Buck’s eyes widened, “what?”  

Eddie nodded dazedly, “He asked me to pick him up, but Buck- I can’t- I can’t wait that long. ”

Buck immediately understood; Chris may be growing up and a teenager now, be he was still a kid- a kid who did not need to be traveling cross-country on a random bus for god-knows-how-long. 

“Okay, okay, let me think.” He let go of Eddie to start pacing back and forth across the room, desperately trying to figure out the best course of action. Suddenly, he turned back to Eddie, snapping his fingers. “Tuscon.”

“Tuscon?” Eddie echoed, confusion laced through his voice. He was clearly still shaken from his conversation with Chris. 

“It’s a major city between here and El Paso. Realistically, he’s gonna have to stop there. It’s about halfway between, and if we leave now we can probably beat him there and pick him up.” 

Eddie nodded, slowly before processing fully what Buck was saying. “We can beat him there-”

“-and be ready to pick him up.” Buck finished. “Grab your shoes, I’ll drive and you can look up what train station he’ll have to stop at in Tuscon.”

Eddie nodded, shoes already hastily put on and one foot out the door.

They were gonna get their kid back.

Chapter Text

June 4th, 2010

Shannon is pregnant.

Holy Mother of God, Shannon is pregnant. 

Greyhound Buses were cool . 

Not only did they have relatively comfy seats and a good amount of legroom for him to stretch his legs out so they wouldn’t cramp, but they also had free WiFi and a bathroom in the back of the bus. It wasn’t huge, but still, it was there. 

The bus had made two stops since they left El Paso. One at a McDonald’s in Deming, New Mexico, and once more at another McDonald’s somewhere close to the New Mexico-Arizona border. The trip had been pretty uneventful; most of the very few people who had started the trip with Chris had gotten off at one of the two McDonalds the bus stopped at, leaving just Chris and a mom with her two little kids as passengers. 

He sent a few messages to Buck using his iPad, but there was no response. Chris tried not to let that bother him, Buck probably wasn’t used to checking his Instagram DMs on the regular. He mentally cursed himself again for acting without thinking and breaking his phone- his only real lifeline to the life he left behind in L.A. 

Most of his messages to his dad had been monitored by Abuela so that she could make sure that his dad wasn’t “trying to unfairly emotionally manipulate” Chris into coming home before he was ready. Never mind the fact that Chris had been ready to go home after three weeks- he just hadn’t dared to say anything when his grandparents were making such a big deal out of him staying with them- and okay , maybe being spoiled by his grandparents wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. 

Yet, the more he read his through dad’s journal, the more clear it became that it wasn’t his dad doing the manipulating; it was his grandparents . 

He’d overheard Tia Sophia and Tia Adrianna arguing about it once. Neither came over all that often- something Chris suspected was because of the seemingly strained relationship Abuelo and Abuela had with all three of their children. Once, when they came to Christmas armed to the teeth with Christmas presents his dad and Buck had sent them to surprise Chris with, he’d overheard the argument .

“It’s not fair to Eddie!” Tia Adri had whisper-yelled, hiding from the rest of the family in her and Tia Sophia’s childhood bedroom. Chris had been sent to retrieve them for dinner but had paused just outside the doorway once he heard them fighting. 

“I know that! Why don’t you think I know that?” Tia Sophia had hissed, clearly aggravated. Chris didn’t quite dare try to look into the room from his hiding place against the hallway wall, but he was sorely tempted. 

“Then why did you just go along with Mom and Dad when they told you not to invite Eddie to spend Christmas with his own goddamn kid?”

“Hey! I never saw you pick up the phone either!” Tia Sophia was on the defensive, ready and armed for verbal warfare. 

“Because no one told me he wasn’t coming! I'm sorry that I just assumed that my brother would be invited to family Christmas!”

“It’s not what’s best for Chris right n-”

“Fuck that! You and I both know that’s not true. Did anyone even ask Chris what he wanted and whether he wanted to see his dad or not?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Tia Sophia sounded like she was on the verge of frustrated tears. Chris could relate to that; some days, that’s all he could feel- frustrated and sad and angry at everyone and himself. 

There was a long pause. “We need to be there for Chris; offer him a shoulder to lean on. But we also need to let Eddie know that we’re also here for him if he needs us. He was the best fucking brother growing up and despite what Mom and Dad say, you and I both know he’s the best fucking dad in the whole fucking world. He’d lay down his life for Chris, that’s what he’s doing now- making himself into a martyr to try and give Chris want he thinks he wants.”

Tia Sophia made a noise of affirmation, it sounded like she was fully crying now. “I just want the best for them, you know? Both Chris and Eddie- and it feels like no matter what we do we’re going to end up either disappointing Mom and Dad or hurting Chris and Eddie.”

“I don’t know about you, Soph, but I’d rather let Mom and Dad be disappointed in me forever than hurt our brother and nephew. God knows Eddie did more to raise us than either of them.”

Sophia sniffed loudly. “That wasn’t fair, was it?”

“God, no. Do you remember when we begged Eddie to let us paint his nails and play “Pretty Pretty Princess Tea Party” with us, and Dad screamed at him when he found out? Eddie was just trying to make us happy and let us be kids, but even then, Dad was treating him like he was already an adult- and a boring one at that.” Tia Adri’s voice was flinty, but her ire was not aimed at Tia Sophia, only at her father.

“It never was fair.” Tia Sophia whispered, so quiet that Chris could barely hear it from his hiding place in the hall. “Eddie’s only two years older than me, and yet Mom and Dad expected him to act like an adult even while you and I got to be kids.”

“You remember when he accidentally burned breakfast because he was trying to be sweet and let Mom sleep in? Mom and Dad ripped into him so bad that he still gets nervous in the kitchen. That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah… fucked.” Tia Sophia agreed. “So what do we do?” Her voice was resigned and tired, tinged with a touch of bitterness towards the ones who had raised her and her siblings. 

“We reach out to Eddie, let him know we’re on his side.” Tia Adri said firmly, “And if he asks us to do anything, we do it.”

Chris was shaken from his memories by an announcement over the bus intercom.

“30 minutes to Tuscon, Arizona.”

“Are you sure we’re going to the right place?” 

Buck let his eyes flicker off the road for just a moment to glance over at Eddie. He had finally calmed down enough that his eyes were no longer glassy and distant. Instead, he’d spent much of the past few hours looking up possible bus stops in Tucson that Chris might be stopping at. 

“I’m positive. We both looked at the website and bus schedule, remember?” He said it gently, hoping that the soft reminder would help soothe Eddie’s already frayed and fractured nerves. 

“Yeah.” Eddie let out a gusty sigh, eyes staring out at the seemingly endless stretch of the Mojave desert. If they weren’t on such a time crunch, Buck might’ve suggested they take old Route 66 for the scenery and adventure of it all, but as it stood, they were on the most important mission of their lives. They were getting Chris back. 

“I just… I can’t believe he ran away . I mean- to just get on a bus and decide on a whim to travel halfway across the country by yourself …” He trailed off.

“I mean…” Buck cleared his throat, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?” He aimed for joking, immediately regretting his words and fearing he sounded like an asshole. 

Eddie stared at him for a long moment, seeming gobsmacked. A split second later, he was bent over in the passenger's seat, laughing like he hadn’t in months. 

“I mean- I kind of had that thought when he left for Texas. I left for Afghanistan, Shannon left for L.A., and then Chris left for El Paso, and now he went and ran from El Paso for L.A., I guess maybe it runs in the family.” He wiped away some stray tears, and Buck couldn’t help but feel relieved to see the sight of laughing tears on his best friend’s cheeks. It had been so long since he’d seen Eddie cry for anything other than pain and heartbreak- laughter looked good on him.

“How does that one Charli XCX song go?” Buck smiled at the questioning look Eddie threw his way, “I guess the apple don’t fall far from the tree,” he sang loudly and just a little off-key in the hopes of eliciting another laugh from Eddie. 

“Isn’t that just a common saying?” Eddie questioned, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. 

Buck laughed, trying hard to keep his eyes on the road and not to give into the temptation to turn and get lost in the way the setting sun was illuminating Eddie in a softly angelic glow. His heart clenched, thinking back to the strained confessions and admissions of Catholic guilt that Eddie had recently shared with him, how Eddie had grown up in the fear of being wrong, of doing something to be branded as irreversibly sinful. How could anyone look at Edmundo Diaz and see anything short of holy?

Instead of letting these thoughts spill from his lips, he smirked good-naturedly, carefully reaching down for his phone before placing it gently on Eddie’s left thigh. 

“Here, open up my Spotify- it should connect automatically.” He grinned as Eddie easily tapped Buck’s password in and opened up the familiar green app. Eddie and Maddie were the only ones who knew Buck’s pin- in case of emergencies, of course. “Then search “Apple by Charli XCX”.

Eddie did what he was told, and almost immediately, the truck was filled with the familiar beat that had accompanied "The Great Brat Summer of 2024".  

“I guess the apple could turn yellow or green, I know there's lots of different nuances to you and to me” Buck sang along, thumping his hand on the stearing wheel in time to the beat. “I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds, but I can't help but get so angry you don't listen to me.” 

He turned his head slightly so he could look over at Eddie without completely taking his eyes off the road, hoping to see another wide smile on his best friend's face, maybe even a laugh at Buck’s ridiculous imitation of Charli XCX. 

Instead, he was met by an ashen and wide-eyed look. Shit. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay- I should’ve realized it might-” He scrambled to turn the volume down with his free hand, keeping the other firmly on the wheel so they didn’t crash.

A soft touch stopped him in his tracks. Eddie had reached over to gently push his hand away from the dial.

“No, no. It’s okay.” Eddie said, taking in a deep and steadying breath and closing his eyes to ground himself. Both hands were in his lap now, and he flexed them, curling and uncurling his hands into fists in an attempt to stay in control. “I’m fine, I’m not that fragile.”

“Eddie…” Buck could feel his own heart splintering. “It’s okay to be fragile; you know that, right?” He spared another glance at the tired and broken man in his passenger's seat. “It’s okay to be soft.” He murmured. 

Eddie nodded jerkily, chin dropping quick and sharp. His mouth was a thin line, a look Buck hated, both that he recognized and that had become so painfully and intimately familiar to him in the past few months. 

“I…” Eddie started, trailing off as he gazed out at the seemingly endless view of golden sand and towering mesas. “I know,” he admitted softly, “but it’s hard.”

Buck made a noise to show he was listening, urging Eddie to continue.

“That’s not something I was ever allowed to be soft .” He wiped roughly at a tear that had escaped unbidden down his cheek. “Being soft was for my sisters, or the girls at school- it wasn’t something that I was ever supposed to be. My dad made that abundantly clear.”

“Eddie, that’s-”

“Bullshit, I know.” Eddie finished, his lips still pressed in that tight, thin line, eyes still gazing out onto the endless horizon.

Buck had been planning on phrasing it much more gently, but Eddie was never one who cared to mince words. Now that Buck thought about it, was that just another scar left behind by Eddie’s childhood?

June 12th, 2010

Mom and Dad are pissed. I knew they would be, I don’t know why I thought they might be even remotely cool about it- about the baby . 

Shannon’s mom was less freaked than my parents, but she wasn’t happy either. Mom dragged all of us- Shannon and me, her mom, my parents, all to the priest at my church. He didn’t have much to say beyond “all children, even those conceived in sin, are a blessing” and “there is still time for Edmundo and Shannon to make things right before God.”

Meaning we have to get married. Shannon and I have to get married. 

Mom already booked the date and is trying to craft together a story about how Shannon and I just couldn’t wait to get married after graduating and had to “tie the knot immediately” because we’re both “so in love.” She thinks that if the wedding happens quickly enough, we can pass the baby off as a honeymoon baby who was just born a few months early. 

Shannon and I haven’t had a moment alone since our parents found out, which, like, why? It’s not like she can get pregnant again . 

And, if I’m honest, I don’t think either of us is exactly eager to jump back into all… that. 

It was fine; we both agreed on that, but just fine. We only did it because all our friends kept teasing us, and most of Shannon’s friends kept going on about how “it would be so romantic to lose your virginity on Prom night”. 

And I mean, I guess it was , in a way? I don’t know who else I’d do it with. Shannon’s my best friend and the only girl I’ve ever really liked. She said she felt the same way about me. And aren’t you supposed to lose your virginity to somebody you trust? Someone you care for? There isn’t another girl in the world who fits that more than Shannon Tyler. 

It felt good physically, but something still didn’t feel right . I guess a part of me had assumed that the second I had sex with a girl, everything would make sense. Like, a lightbulb would go off, and suddenly I’d understand myself and the world and everything. Instead, I just feel more confused than ever. 

“What’s this playlist?” Eddie quietly asked, his eyes were closed and head resting against the window. Buck had assumed that Eddie had fallen asleep hours ago and had been ready to start waking him up. They were only thirty minutes away from Tucson, and Buck knew Eddie would want to be awake and alert the second they rolled into the city. 

Buck glanced over at his phone and immediately tried to suppress a blush. He’d truly thought Eddie was asleep, so somewhere a hundred miles or so back, he’d put on what he affectionately dubbed his “Eddie” playlist. 

All it was was a collection of songs he knew Eddie liked, or that reminded him of Eddie, or that he just straight-up thought were Eddie’s vibe . 

“Oh, it’s uh-” He cut himself off, feeling acutely just how red his cheeks were becoming. “It’s a playlist I made for you?” He cringed at the question mark hanging in his voice, as if he was asking Eddie what Buck had named the playlist he had spent hours meticulously making. 

“For me?” Out of the corner of his eye, Buck could see the way Eddie’s eyelashes fluttered slowly as he opened his eyes, still leaning against the window. 

“Yeah,” Buck tried to seem nonchalant and failed miserably, “It’s just some songs I know you like.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched adorably. “I don’t think I know this one?”

Buck paused for a second, listening to the song gently playing through the car speakers. 

“Stare in the morning shroud and then the day began, I tilted your cloud, you tilted my hand, rain falls in real time, and rain fell through the night, no dress rehearsal,

this is our life.” 

“It’s called “ Ahead by a Century ”, it’s by a Canadian band named “The Tragically Hip”.

“And it makes you think of me?” Eddie questioned quietly, studying Buck with an indiscernable expression on his face.

“I- yeah,” Buck admitted, trying to cover the sudden vulnerable feeling coursing through him. 

Buck could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, flickering as they searched for something; what that something was, Buck wasn’t sure. He longed to meet Eddie’s gaze, but he didn’t dare tear his eyes away from the road.

They stayed like that, Buck’s eyes on the road, Eddie’s eyes on Buck, for a long time. The only indication of the passage of time was the changing of the music playing from the car speakers. “The Tragically Hip” soon melted away into the Noah Kahan cover of “If We Were Vampires” , which in turn gave way to a Gregory Alan Isakov song he'd caught Eddie listening to once while showering after a long shift.

Finally, as the last notes of “Sweet Heat Lightning” echoed through the car, Eddie spoke. 

“Theo made me a mixtape once,” Eddie whispered, tugging at the loose string hanging from the hem of his shirt. He had finally looked away from Buck, but Buck found that he missed the familiar feeling of being seen by him. 

The name took Buck by surprise. He’d only heard it in association with Eddie once before, when Chris had texted him asking about a “Theo” who had apparently once been Eddie’s closest friend. But he couldn’t let Eddie know that he had any clue who this “Theo” was, that would lead to questions that Buck couldn’t answer without betraying Chris. 

“Theo?” 

“Yeah, Theo Lindsay. He was a friend of mine back in high school, we played on the baseball team together.”

“Oh, you’ve mentioned you used to play baseball before. You were the pitcher, right?” 

Eddie hummed in response. “Yeah, Texas State champions four years in a row.” He puffed a rueful laugh, “A lot of good that did me in the long run.”

“Hey! That’s something you should be proud of! You worked hard, and it paid off; that’s awesome!” Buck protested, immediately bristling at the way Eddie so dismissively brushed off his past self’s accomplishment.

“I just mean- well-” He let out an exasperated puff of air. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

“Thank you! Sure, it was high school, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. You should be proud of your past self and your team.”

A smile tugged on Eddie’s lips. “I am,” he paused again. “I guess I just meant that in the long run, look where it got me. I used to think I’d get drafted to the Astros and be on the cover of Sports Illustrated by the time I turned thirty, and instead…”

“Instead, you’re a kick ass firefighter, a great dad, and my favorite person besides like, Maddie and Chris.” Buck had to bite his cheek to keep from saying more. He had meant to say “and my best friend” , but his tongue had launched a last-second rebellion from his brain and spoken on its own volition. 

He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye at Eddie, his cheeks were flushed a light pink. Buck wanted to kiss him, to pepper those rosy cheeks in kisses unti the blush covered Eddie’s whole face, and not just the apples of his cheeks. 

He tamped down that feeling quickly, before it could somehow escape his mind and ruin everything. Eddie didn’t need to deal with Buck’s unrequited feelings, especially not when they were on their way to pick up his son from a city hundreds of miles away from their home. 

June 28th, 2010

I called the coach at Sam Houston State today. I had to tell him that I’m sorry, but I can’t take the scholarship anymore. He seemed pretty confused, he asked me what had changed since we last talked. I was already committed, so this is a big deal, plus I had a full-ride. He kept telling me that I was a shoo-in to get drafted in a few years and that offers like this don’t just grow on trees. 

I waited until he was finished before telling him why. He got really quiet after that. He said he understood and that I should call him if anything changed. He said that he still really wanted me to be a Bearkat. He even pointed out how one of their players got drafted to the Blue Jays last year- Ryan Tepera. 

I won’t ever be a Ryan Tepera. Or a Justin Verlander. Or a Bob Gibson. Or a Cy Young. I won’t ever win a Cy Young award, won’t ever get to pitch a no-hitter for the Astros, won’t even get to step foot on a minor or major league field as a player. 

My baseball career is over. 

I’m fucking terrified. This wasn’t supposed to happen. My future was all planned out, and now, in a single moment and a positive pregnancy test, it’s all gone.

But, if I have to be going through this with anyone, I’m really fucking glad it’s Shannon. She’s my best friend. I’ve never been able to picture myself being married and having a family, but I do love Shannon and will do everything I can to provide for her. She’s my best friend, she deserves the whole entire world. 

And the baby, our baby. I didn’t know I was capable of loving so much, but I love that little baby more than I ever knew was possible. I know it’s not the best circumstances, but I swear to God and all the Saints that I will do everything I can to be a good dad for that kid. I’m kind of a fuck-up, but that baby is going to be half-Shannon, and she’s about as perfect as a person can be. I hope the baby gets all of Shannon’s good qualities (so, all of them ) and none of my failures and anxieties. 

I will do whatever it takes to provide for my family. For our family. 

I started talking to an Army recruiter. Nothing’s official yet, but apparently, I can get really, really good insurance for Shannon and the baby if I sign up. If my baseball career hadn’t panned out, my backup plan had always been med school. I’ve always thought it would be amazing to be able to help people, maybe I can become some sort of army medic. It would pay the bills, and I’d still be able to help people. 

I’ve got a lot to think about. 

The bus was just pulling into the station when Chris saw them. He whipped off his glasses, rubbing the lenses with the corner of his shirt to try and clear them of any smudges before quickly putting them back on. They were still there, standing at the doors to the station were his dad and Buck. 

Dad was pacing back and forth anxiously, only stopping when Buck placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured towards the bus that was slowly rolling to a stop in front of the doors. Chris couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor could he read Buck’s lips, but he could imagine the conversation clearly. His dad was probably panicking that Chris was traveling on a Greyhound alone, while Buck was likely trying to soothe him with promises of “we’re here, we’re going to get him.”

Chris’s heart pounded, and he felt a feeling of warmth and relief washing over him. Stubbornly, he would never admit to anyone that it had been a bold and brazen move to hop on a bus without telling anyone in El Paso, and instead leaving one voicemail and engaging in one very awkward and brief conversation about his plans. He felt a small pang of guilt for not telling his grandparents, but he knew they’d do whatever they could to stop him if he’d given them even an inkling of a clue about what he was going to do. 

The pang of guilt was quickly forgotten as the bus finally came to a full stop and the few passengers ahead of him disembarked. He was just getting up himself, pulling on his backpack and checking to make sure he had all of his charging cords, when he heard it. His dad’s voice rang out strong and clear, echoing off the metal walls of the bus. 

“Christopher!” His dad was standing at the front of the bus, eyes wide and slightly desperate, and yet Chris could only feel warmth and love when meeting his father’s worried gaze. He’d done it, he’d come to get Chris. Fucking finally , he thought, it only took me running away on a Greyhound.  

He raised his hand sheepishly, acutely aware of the bus driver’s questioning look clearly on display in the rearview mirror. “Hey, Dad.”

“ Christopher Tyler Diaz, ” His dad started, anger and fear and pure relief radiating from him. “What were you thinking? Buck and I have been worried sick-”

He didn’t have a chance to keep talking before Chris collided with him, throwing his arms wide around his dad and pulling him in for a hug so tight he dropped his crutches, letting them clatter onto the floor beneath him. 

His dad was crying now, face buried in Chris’s curls as he pulled him even closer. Distantly, Chris realized that he was crying too. 

January 13, 2011

Christopher Tyler Diaz, 5 lbs, 2 oz, 16 inches, perfect in every way. 

Shannon picked Christopher for St. Christopher, the patron saint of travellers. She said that he’d protect me and guide me. She gave me a medallion with St. Christopher on it, so I can keep baby Christopher with me wherever I go.

I picked Tyler as his middle name because it’s Shannon’s maiden name. I always thought it was kind of odd that the girl has to lose her last name when she gets married, so I thought it would be good for Christopher to have Tyler as his middle name, that way, even when he’s grown, he can always have a piece of his mom with him. Shannon cried when I told her I wanted to name him Christopher Tyler, she said it was perfect.

He’s perfect, he’s premature, and so so tiny. But when I held him for the first time, all my anxieties seemed to melt away. I love that kid, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he’s always happy and healthy and never ever questions how much his parents love him. 

Shannon’s nervous about my deployment; she wasn’t thrilled about me enlisting. I think she understands, though, why I have to do it, why I have to go. I promised her that I’ll be back, I’ll be home again as soon as I can to help her with Christopher. 

He’s my purpose now, my guiding light. I’ll always come back home to him. To both of them. 

Chapter Text

They stayed on the bus for what felt like a small eternity, lost in the feeling of home . As Chris had gotten older, he’d found himself seeking out the comfort of his dad’s hugs less and less. How stupid was that? He thought, kicking himself internally for ever shying away from the familiar comfort of his dad’s arms. 

Maybe it was the long months spent eight hundred miles apart, maybe it was the way both of their emotions were running high, maybe it was the relief of finally seeing his dad’s face in person for the first time since Chris had last walked out the door of their home on South Bedford Street, whatever it was, there was no place Chris would rather be than in his father’s warm embrace.

Eventually, the bus driver cleared his throat and shook them both from their momentary reverie. But they didn’t make it far off of the bus before Chris found himself nearly crushed in another bear hug- this one from Buck. 

Although this embrace was shorter, it didn’t mean anything less to Chris, still acting as a soothing balm to the ache that had been lingering in his heart since he first left Los Angeles all those months before. 

Eventually, they found their way to the parking lot and Buck’s truck. Climbing into the back seat, Chris couldn’t help but be hit by the rightness of the moment, of being with his dad and Buck again- he’d been stupid to leave behind the two people he knew would always have his back. How had he been so selfish? So cruel? How badly had he hurt them both when he left? 

He was contemplating these thoughts when the door opposite of him opened, and his dad climbed in and sat down beside him. Chris raised his eyebrows questioningly. Why was his dad sitting in the back with him and not in the passenger’s seat up front next to Buck?

“Is this okay?” Dad questioned softly, his eyes were wet and wide. Looking at them, Chris was reminded of a wounded animal cautiously approaching to show it meant no harm. He recalled Hen once comparing his dad’s eyes to Bambi’s, she wasn’t wrong. Maybe that’s why Buck always seemed to be staring at them. 

Chris nodded mutely, unable to tear his eyes away from his father. Taking in the familiar slopes and planes of his face, Chris couldn’t help but try and reconcile the pictures he’d seen of a much younger Eddie Diaz with those of the man beside him. They may have had the same curve of their nose, the same angle of their jaw, the same chin, the same eyebrows, and the same everything, really, but there was a certain constant anxiety that had carved its way across his father’s face that he hadn’t had in the photographs. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where that anxiety had come from, but Chris longed to see it washed away and for that youthful glow to return to his dad’s face. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be. “It’s okay.”

They stayed that way, taking the other in while Buck started the engine and drove away from the train station and bus stop. Although he was thankful for it, Chris hoped that he would never see that Greyhound Bus again. 

Buck was talking, asking about dinner. Chris’s stomach rumbled, answering for him. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry, too focused on his destination and making it back to L.A. to even think about the importance of eating a real meal. His dad was saying something, asking for Chris’s opinion, but everything sounded like it was underwater. 

He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that they were there , that they’d gotten Buck’s truck and driven all the way to fucking Tucson, Arizona. They must have jumped in the vehicle and started driving the moment Chris had hung up on his dad, how else had they made it there in time? They were there waiting for him . If Chris wasn’t still staring at his dad in the eye, his knee mere inches from his dad’s, he probably wouldn’t have believed it. 

“Is that okay?” His dad asked, eyes searching Chris’s face for something. Chris just nodded again, unable to form a full and coherent sentence. Buck cheered from the front, clearly excited about whatever Chris had agreed to.

Less than ten minutes later, they were pulled into a parking lot for a fast food place. A blue and white sign proudly declaring the name of the restaurant to “Culver’s”. Chris had never heard of it before, and based on the look on his dad’s face, he wasn’t familiar with it either. 

“Okay, I used to go to Culver’s all the time when I was moving around the country working odd jobs.” Buck chattered excitedly, “I’ve been wanting to take you and your dad to one for years , but there aren’t any in California, and all the ones in Texas are in like, Houston or Dallas. You have to try the cheese curds- they’ll change your life!”

Distantly, Chris wondered if Buck’s rambling about the merits of frozen custard versus ice cream and the apparent life-changing experience that cheese curds and butterburgers promised were his way of trying to break up the silence and prevent any awkwardness from forming now that Chris and his dad were in the same place again. If that was the case, and it probably was, Chris appreciated it, but it wasn’t necessary. 

Still, he quickly found himself in a blue vinyl booth, sitting across from his dad and his dad’s best friend, and dunking some truly magical fried balls of cheese in ranch while listening fondly to Buck’s continued info-dumping about the history of regional fast food restaurants. He looked up from his dinner and caught his dad’s eye; hesitantly, they shared a fond smile, silently communicating their joint amusement at Buck’s antics. 

It was nice, eating dinner with his dad and Buck. It was the way things were supposed to be. If they couldn’t have his mom around to be the fourth member of their little family, then he’d happily take the three of them in a sticky vinyl booth on the edge of an unfamiliar city. What mattered was that they were together. His time with his mom had been cut short with no warning, leaving him wholly unprepared to experience life without her in it. He wasn’t going to risk it with his dad or with Buck. He swore to himself from that moment on that he would never again resent time spent with them. Especially not with his dad.

He couldn’t promise to be a perfect kid, the angst of his teenage years having already made itself known in the most dramatic of ways, but he could promise to try. His time away had only made him more keenly aware of the sacrifices his dad had made for him. He’d always known, in the back of his mind, of the many different things his father had given up for him, but now he knew. Sitting across from his father, the man who’d gone to war, been shot not once but twice, and fought like hell to come back to him, he couldn’t help but see a scared seventeen-year-old, wrestling with the panic-inducing knowledge that he would soon be a father. A seventeen-year-old who was more than likely gay. 

“Dad,” he said suddenly, interrupting Buck’s explanation of the significance of the Wisconsin dairy industry. Instantly, the booth was quiet, both men turning to look at him, equal parts eager and nervous to hear what Chris had to say. “Dad-” He was choked up, trying hard not to cry now. He really didn’t want to cry in the middle of a fast food restaurant where anyone could see him, but he couldn’t help himself as a few tears escaped without his consent. “Dad, I forgive you,” his father’s face immediately crumpled in relief, and his own pent-up tears, “do you forgive me?”

February 14, 2011

It’s Valentine’s Day. 

So much has changed in a year; it seems like just yesterday that I was putting together a mixtape CD for Shannon, and now we have a child together. A child. I still can’t believe it.

Christopher cries all the time, I know that it’s not his fault- it’s what babies do. But Shannon and I have gotten so little sleep in the past month that it’s starting to get to us. I hate fighting with her, but we’re both so stressed all the time trying to figure everything out before my deployment that it’s driving both of us up a wall. Add in that my mom can’t seem to stop questioning everything we do, especially Shannon, and you get a disaster. 

Shannon’s mom suggested we both take a day off to go hang out with our friends without the other and without Christopher. She offered to babysit for the night, and Shannon went out with Heather and a few other girls. Most of my friends have stopped hanging around now that the baby’s born. Only Theo said yes when I asked if anyone wanted to hang out.

We went to McDonald’s. It’s about all I can afford right now, and even that’s a luxury right now. Who knew baby clothes were so expensive? They’re so tiny; how do they cost that much for so little fabric? 

Anyway, we went to McDonald’s, and at first it was really fun! Just like old times. We talked about music and the latest My Chemical Romance album. I hadn’t had a chance to listen to it in full until recently, and I loved it! Theo wasn’t totally sold, but he promised he’d give it another listen after hearing how I thought it was amazing. I know Killjoys is a little different from their other stuff, but it’s still good!

We talked about that for a while until we ran out of things to say, and then it got quiet. I could tell that Theo kept staring at my ring. He’s seen it before, he was even the best man at the wedding back in July. I was so nervous then, but seeing Theo standing up for me was the only thing that put my mind at ease when I waiting for Shannon to walk down the aisle. The wedding was really small, and I’m glad about that. Theo was my Best Man, Heather was Shannon’s Maid of Honor. The only other people there were family members. We kept it small and in church, just like my mom wanted. 

Theo kept looking at my ring, though, and he got really quiet. I asked him what was wrong, and he just looked at me with these huge, sad eyes. It made my stomach hurt to see him look like that, like I’d hurt him somehow. 

He finally asked me if I was happy, and I asked what he meant by that. He got all red in the face and started mumbling about how he never thought I’d actually get married to Shannon- that made me mad. I told him that of course I married her, she was my girlfriend, my best friend.

He got quiet again before saying, “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Yeah, but you’re a boy; it’s not like I could marry you,” I told him.

“Why not?” He asked back. His face was so red, and I’m sure mine was, too. 

I didn’t have a good answer for him. I know what my dad would’ve said, how he would’ve yelled and cussed Theo out for daring to ask that. But if I’m honest, I still don’t entirely understand why it’s not okay, only that it’s not okay for me . That’s not something I could ever do, marrying a boy. Other people, sure, but I know what would happen if I did and how my parents would react. I don’t think I could handle that. 

I didn’t have an answer, so I just started cleaning up my tray and throwing my trash away. Theo did the same. I think he thought I was angry at him, but I wasn’t, not really. 

We ended up walking in silence over to the park across the street, it was empty so we sat on the swings and didn’t talk for a long time. 

Finally, I couldn’t take the silence, so I turned to him and was about to say something when he surprised me. I don’t know if he meant to kiss me, or if we just both turned out heads at the right moment, but suddenly we were. Kissing, I mean. 

I hate that it was better than any kiss I’ve ever had with Shannon. 

It was kind of messy; our teeth clacked at one point, but he tasted like salt and Diet Coke, and I wanted to keep kissing him forever. But I couldn’t. For one, it’s not right; I can’t kiss boys, and two, I’m married. I promised Shannon forever, and I meant it. 

So I did something I’m not proud of: I ran. I left him sitting on the swing in the park and bolted all the way home. 

No one can ever know. I can’t talk to Theo ever again, I have to end it. I don’t want to, but I have to. Because if I don’t, the temptation to kiss him again is going to be too much. 

I can’t do that again, not to Shannon, not to Chris, not to our family. I am not allowed that, so I won’t .

But God, I hate how much I want to kiss him again. 

It was just after one in the afternoon when they entered Los Angeles city limits. They’d gotten a hotel room after finishing both dinner and a very long, very cathartic conversation in which Chris and his dad poured all of their feelings out on the table, with Buck playing mediator when necessary. Chris laid all of it out, all of it except the journals.

That, he couldn’t quite confess to yet. 

“Is everyone gonna be mad at me when they see me again?” He asked hesitantly. 

His dad had switched to the front seat when they left that morning, partially at Chris’s insistence that they “not make Buck feel like a chauffeur”. Buck had grinned and claimed he’d always be happy to be a chauffeur for “his boys”. It made Chris feel warm inside to be called that, to know that Buck considered him and his dad to be family. He thought his dad liked it too, if the pink on his cheeks was anything to go by. 

Dad turned back to look at him, Bambi eyes on full display again. “Of course not, mijo. Why would you think that?” His voice was soft, offering reassurance and comfort.

Chris fiddled with the phone in his hands. “I hurt you when I left, I don’t know if Aunt Maddie or Uncle Chim are going to be mad at me because of that.” He didn’t think Hen or Bobby would be mad, more disappointed, but not mad. Maddie and Chim, however, were a different story; Maddie was Buck’s sister, and Chim was her husband. It was clear now to Chris that in lashing out and trying to hurt his father, he’d also hurt Buck. Buck, who clearly had been trying to help shoulder the burden of Chris’s absence and keep his dad afloat through all the metaphorical hurricanes and tsunamis that Chris had caused. 

“Oh Chris,” Dad responded gently, “they’re just going to be happy that you're home . I’m pretty sure Bobby is already baking you a welcome home cake.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Chris let himself be content with that, hopeful that with time and some therapy (which his dad had promised he’d get set up for the two of them), all wounds really could heal. His dad had promised they could talk about Mom more and that they could go to therapy both separately and together, whatever Chris wanted and needed. His dad really was a good dad; how could he have ever doubted that?

After a few minutes, Buck spoke, his voice quizzical and inquiring. Chris could see the familiar scrunch of his thinking face in the reflection of the rearview mirror. 

“Why do you call Maddie and Chim your aunt and uncle but not me?” He asked, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you called Maddie and Chim 'Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim , but you’ve never called me 'Uncle Buck .” 

“I guess… I guess because I think of you more like my other dad than an uncle.”

From his spot in the back seat, Chris could see how his father’s face immediately flushed bright red. He choked on the water he’d been taking a sip of, coughing erratically while Buck tried to check if he was alright without taking his hands off the wheel and causing an accident. 

“Eddie, are you okay!?” Buck asked, eyes wide, hands gripping the wheel tightly and foot coming to rest on the brake, ready to pull over at a moment’s notice.

Dad just waved him off, urging him with his hands to continue driving. “Just went down the wrong tube! S’all!” He insisted, wiping frantically at his mouth and refusing to look at either Buck or Chris. 

Chris opened his mouth to say something, to explain what he meant. But, really, he couldn’t have been clearer- Buck was like a second dad to him. The way he’d dropped everything at a moment’s notice to drive with Chris’s dad halfway to Texas was proof enough of that. Chris had heard his dad and Buck refer to each other as their “partner” on more than one occasion, and Chris was smart enough to recognize that at least his dad wanted that “partner” to mean something more like “partner” . 

But before he could speak, he was cut off by the scream of police sirens. They were on South Bedford Street now, and as they pulled closer to the familiar sight of the home he’d spent more than half his life in, he could see at least three cop cars parked in front of the condo. 

Slowly approaching the drive, Buck rolled down the window as one of the cops approached the truck. 

“Is everything okay, officer?” Buck asked, offering his patented “I’m one of the good guys” smile. 

The cop wasn’t buying it.

“Are you Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz?” The cop asked, peering through the window to appraise Chris’s dad. 

Buck nodded, “Yes, that’s us. We just got back from picking up our kid out of town. Can you tell us why there are officers outside our house?”

Chris didn’t even have a moment to appreciate the way Buck said “our kid” and “our house” to show their status as a family, a real family, before his world was shattered.

“Evan Buckley and Edmundo Diaz, you are under arrest for the abduction and kidnapping of one Christopher Diaz from his home in El Paso, Texas.”

Chris felt his blood run cold.

Chapter Text

Chris didn’t want to know what might have happened to his dad and Buck had it not been for the certified badass known as Athena Grant. 

After the cop had cuffed both his dad and Buck and led them to the back of a cop car, Chris himself had been herded into the front of a separate cop car. Thankfully, both cops must have either assumed he was too distressed from his “kidnapping” or just didn’t think to check him and confiscate his phone. The second the cops had turned his back on him, his phone was out and he was texting every trustworthy adult in L.A. that he knew. He swiftly threw together a group chat, adding in everyone in the 118 and their spouses and Carla for good measure.

Unsurprisingly, it was Aunt Maddie who texted him back first. She was panicked but offered to check the call logs to see if dispatch had received any call about Chris and his supposed “kidnapping.”

Athena didn’t take the time to text, simply reacting to Chris’s SOS text with a thumbs up. Chris would have panicked more if that emoji hadn’t been immediately followed by a much longer text from Bobby.

👴 Bobby 👴

Thanks for the info, Chris. 

Athena is on it and is already 

contacting her precinct and C.O

to figure out what’s going on.

👴 Bobby 👴 

Hang tight, kid, no one is 

going to let your dad or Buck

go to jail for this.

👴 Bobby 👴

Also, welcome home!

You were so unbelievably missed,

can’t wait to see you at the next

118 family BBQ!

Tears stung at Chris’s eyes reading the messages. He knew that his dad and Buck had missed him, as had Denny, but hearing that Bobby (and presumably the rest of the 118) had also missed him made a tidal wave of emotion roll over him. 

By the time they pulled up to the station, Athena was already there. She stood in front of the doors to the precinct, arms crossed and face as furious as that of a wrathful god ready to raze a village of irreverent villagers. Chris felt nothing but relief at the sight of her. 

The two cops in the front of the car exchanged a look when they noticed Athena, but they seemed to shrug off any confusion they may have felt as they opened their respective doors and vacated the vehicle. The taller of the two was opening Chris’s door and ushering him out when he heard it- Athena’s loud and powerful voice demanding answers. 

“Tell me why you’ve gone and arrested a father for “kidnapping” his own child when said the people who reported the “kidnapping” had no legal claim and were so negligent that they didn’t even think to check if he’d run away!” Athena’s face was pinched, and anger thundered in her voice even as she did her best to remain calm and professional. 

“Sergeant Grant,” The cop who’d locked Chris’s dad in handcuffs tried to reply, “we have a warrant of arrest for Edmundo Diaz and Evan Buckley lawfully issued from the state of Texas and ordering the safe return of Christopher Diaz to his custodial guardians-”

“ Custodial guardians!? ” A voice from inside the car that sounded suspiciously like Buck yelled indignantly. “Eddie is Chris’s dad and his legal guardian! Not Ramon and Helena! And even if something happened to him, he’d go to me , not them!”

The cop who was mid-argument with Athena suddenly turned and stuck his head through the window of the parked car. 

“Sir, can you please explain what you mean by that?” He asked, hesitation suddenly leaking through his voice. It could’ve been Buck’s righteous indignation or the way Athena’s mere presence oozed intimidation and control, but Chris could almost swear that he could see a tremble in the man’s shoulders. 

“Just that,” a different voice, his dad’s, “My parents were watching my son while he took an extended trip to El Paso, but they have no legal claim to him. I have full legal custody over my son, and if they’re trying to claim that I am somehow not competent or capable in that warrant, well, they still don’t have a custody claim. My best friend here, Buck, he’s the one who gets custody of Chris if something were to happen to me.” 

He could hear the edge in his father’s voice, long familiar with the way his dad would try to hold back his anger when he thought people (mostly his grandparents, if Chris was honest) were being stupid. The cop clearly didn’t pick up on it, though, instead only blanching when he heard the words “legal claim” and “custody”. 

“I, uh, well, I see-” The officer fidgeted nervously. He quickly turned on a heal to face the cops who were still guarding Chris. “I think it would be best to follow Sergeant Grant inside and try and sort out this unfortunate situation.” He chose each word carefully; Chris wondered if he was mentally picking out the phrasing that was least likely to result in a lawsuit. 

Athena nodded sharply, gesturing with her chin for everyone to follow her inside. “It would serve you well, Officer Kowalczyk,” she intoned gravely, “to always double check whether or not the claims a person is making in regards to such serious matters are lawfully valid.”

Officer Kowalczyk nodded eagerly, clearly desperate to get back on his superior's good side. With a quick hand movement, he gestured for everyone, cops and falsely accused kidnappers included, to follow them inside. 

March 28, 2016

Shannon left. 

I know I haven’t written here in a long time, not since before I was first deployed, but I don’t know where else to talk about this.

She left . Packed up. Got in the car and left for somewhere better and bigger and far away from us. From me. Fuck. 

I can’t even say I blame her. I don’t know why we ever thought this would work. But more than that, I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to do this without her. I know she was pissed when I re-enlisted, but I did it for her , for Chris. 

Maybe I did it a little bit for myself, too.

I know my parents can be unbearable, I understand that; I’ve grown up with them all these years after all. But I thought they’d gotten over their disapproval of Shannon, especially after she and I got married.

I know she and my dad have always butted heads- the great “softball is just as good as baseball” debate of Thanksgiving 2013 will live on in infamy forever (My dad was so wrong about that by the way, I’m still angry at him for picking that fight).

But despite that, I always thought that the two of us would last. 

Shannon got mad at me the night before she left. I thought it was just about my parents being overbearing and my getting hurt after re-enlisting without telling her (I was an ass for that, I know), but apparently that wasn’t all there was. She kept saying, “We can’t keep doing this,” over and over again. I asked her what “this” was and she just shook her head and wouldn’t look at me. 

I was angry, how could I help if she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong? I kept begging her to let me in, to tell me what was wrong, what I could do to fix it.

Shannon just shook her head. “It’s not fixable, not here, not if we stay like this. We’re not fixable.”

I think I’ll be trying to decipher what she meant by that for a long, long time. 

The cops finally released Dad and Buck from holding after another hour or two. Officer Kowalzyk kept offering his apologies, blubbering on about rules and regulations and a “better safe than sorry.” Chris’s dad just looked tired. 

Bobby had shown up while Chris had been waiting, his lighty wrinkled face a welcome sight. Chris hadn’t realized just how much he’d actually missed the older man until he was being pulled into a firm but gentle hug, his curls tucked just below Bobby’s chin. 

For a moment, Chris reveled in the feeling. He wondered if this was what a grandparent’s hug should feel like. His own grandfather’s hugs were often stiff and just a bit off , like he hadn’t had enough practice giving them out over the years. But Bobby, Bobby gave hugs that were warm and welcoming with just the right amount of pressure and that never got cut short or went on for a moment too long. If Maddie and Chim were officially being dubbed his “aunt and uncle”, maybe it was about time he offered Bobby the official title of “grandpa”. He was basically Buck’s dad anyway, and Chris had made it known to both his dad and Buck how he really viewed Buck as a second dad. 

He smiled to himself, debating what time would be the best and most chaotic to casually drop a “Grandpa Bobby” into conversation. But that particular moment of chaos would have to wait until after everything had settled again. Which, going by the yelling that had erupted from the next room, would probably be a while.

“I don’t care what you thought! Chris went missing, and your first instinct was to try and have Buck and I arrested?” His dad’s voice boomed, echoing through the halls of the precinct. “What if he had actually been kidnapped by some creep? You wouldn’t even be looking for him because you’d be too busy trying to find some way to pin it all on me!” 

Chris grimaced; he hadn’t even thought of that. Why had his grandparents jumped to the conclusion that he’d been kidnapped by his own dad? It was partially Chris’s fault for not telling them his plan, but he also never dreamed that his abuela and abuelo would send the police after his dad. 

Athena stuck her head out of the room where his dad was ripping into Abuela over the phone. She made eye contact with Chris and ushered him toward the room. As soon as he was over the door frame, Athena shut the door behind him to give them some privacy.

Buck was standing against one wall, studiously studying the faded informational posters hanging on the wall and clearly trying to be as unintrusive as possible. His dad was pacing back and forth across the small room, shoulders tense as he continued to yell. 

“No, no. You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to have any claim to him or to me anymore!”

Chris almost wished that he could hear the other end of the conversation instead of just the high-pitched shriek he could guess was almost definitely his abuela (his abuelo would never let himself “screech” like that). But he could also feel the way his heart was racing just hearing half the conversation, he couldn’t imagine how much faster it would be racing if he could hear both sides. 

“I am not a bad father!” Dad yelled, his face flushed and furious.  

“You’re not,” Chris said, interrupting whatever vitriolic shit was likely pouring from his grandmother’s mouth right now. “You’re the best. You fucked up but you tried to fix it, that’s what good dads do.” It was simple; it was true. 

His dad’s eyes snapped toward him, mouth falling into an “o” shape and eyes gaining the telltale shimmer that said he’d nearly made his dad cry. After a few seconds, Dad seemed to process it all. Chris was almost nervous he’d get in trouble for cursing, but instead, his dad’s face only softened more. “Thank you,” his dad mouthed silently, “I love you.”

With only a little awkwardness, Chris lifted his hand and formed the ASL sign for “I love you” , folding his middle and ring fingers down while extending the rest. It was something his mom had taught him a long time ago, back when Dad had still been deployed. He didn’t use it often, but he found that the simple gesture encompassed everything and more what he wanted to say in that moment. 

His dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed and Chris could see the way a single tear escaped down his cheek. He reached his free hand up to mirror Chris’s, “I love you,” he signed, and Chris’s heart swelled. 

- Hilton Tuscon East -

March 29, 2016

Eddie,

I don’t know when this will get to you, but right now, I’m sitting in a Hilton in Tuscon and I only left you yesterday.

I hope you’ll forgive me, but I needed to go. El Paso is suffocating. I always feel like I’m being watched, like there are eyes on me. I know that’s not true, and yet-

I need you to know that I will never regret meeting you, loving you, or bringing Chris into the world. Yet, I know that if I were to stay, it would be the death of me.

Eddie, you and I are kindred souls, destined to be in eachother’s lives. I truly believe this, but we would be fools to assume that every pair of kindred souls are soulmates . You and I, we were meant to fall into one another’s orbits, but we were never meant to last.

I think you know that too; I hope you do. 

Please, don’t be mad at me. Unless you need to be. In that case, feel free to hate me forever. I won’t hold it against you. 

I need to find myself, to understand who I’m meant to be. I need to know why Heather McIntyre always captured my attention so entirely, why I’ve never felt real outside of a few spare moments on the pitcher’s mound when I’ve let the ball go, my fingers still outstretched. I need to know Eddie, and this is the only way I can.

I want you to search for yourself too; don’t let yourself get lost in my absence. Be free, find yourself, find a way to be happy. If not for your own sake, then for Chris’s.

Please, tell Chris I love him. I will always love him. Until the day I die, I will love him, and for a million years after that. 

With all my love,

Shannon

Abuela and Abuelo were out of the picture. Dad had cut them off, threatening to get a restraining order if they ever came near him or Chris ever again. Chris couldn’t say he blamed him, not after what he had learned through reading his dad’s journal, not after they tried to have his dad arrested because Chris ran away.

He wished he could say he was sorry it ended up this way, but he wasn’t. Having finished reading the entirety of his father’s journal, he felt very little besides animosity and sadness towards the ones who’d raised his dad and aunts.

Aunt Sophia and Aunt Adrianna were picking up everything Chris had left behind in Texas and bringing it to L.A. the next weekend. Chris couldn’t wait to see them, he hoped that maybe this would be the first step to them becoming more of a permanent fixture in his and his dad’s lives in Los Angeles. He would love for either of them (preferably both) to find a reason to move closer to them. Based on his dad’s most recent conversations with them, neither of them would mind that either. 

It had been a few weeks, and Chris finally felt settled. Which meant it was time for him to give into his chaotic teen impulses and stir the proverbial pot. 

Chris🕶️

hey grandpa, when’s the next bbq?

👴 Bobby 👴

Sunday at 5:30 PM, can’t wait to see you!

👴 Bobby 👴

Wait, “grandpa?” 

👴 Bobby 👴

Chris? Do you see me as your grandfather?

👴 Bobby 👴

I’m honored. I see you as my grandson as well. 

Chris🕶️

remember that @ xmas :)

Chris🕶️

  would u date my dad?

like if he was interested

Buck 🚒

Where did this come from???

What do you know???

Buck 🚒

Chris???

Buck 🚒

Chris???

Buck 🚒

CHRISTOPHER???

Chris🕶️

you should go ask out my  dad

Chris🕶️

    he’d say yes

Chris🕶️

so like…. yes or no?

Chris🕶️

 i’m gonna assume based on that yell from my dad’s room that you just did 

Buck 🚒

:D