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Buck holds Eddie tightly against his chest and wills breath into the other man's lungs. He wills the world to keep him safe and watch over him in a place that Buck can’t go. Buck’s composure is hanging by a thread when Eddie pulls away. The way his fingertips drag across Buck’s ribs as he steps back speaks to the reluctance that’s taken up residence in Buck's chest since he first laid eyes on the cursed iPad.
Reluctant to let him go, to watch him leave, knowing that he can’t do anything but that. Buck can’t be that selfish, no matter how much he wants to get on his knees on this wet asphalt and beg Eddie to stay. Because he knows that Eddie’s going for all the right reasons and Buck wants him to stay for all the wrong ones.
Eddie needs to be with Christopher, Christopher needs to know that his Dad is there, when he’s ready, whenever he needs. God, what Buck wouldn’t have given to see that same unconditional, unwavering love from his own parents growing up.
Buck fucked it all up. He is once again too late, too slow, too little, too much. Too in love with Eddie to stand to watch him go, too in love with him to force him to stay. Because he knows , this is the only way this was going to end.
“Call me so I know you’ve arrived safely,” Buck says firmly, his voice as steady as he can make it.
Eddie watches him with those wide, dark eyes and Buck feels caught. The corner of Eddie’s mouth turns up slightly. “I will.”
“Okay, okay you better go before the rain gets worse.” Buck forces himself to take another step back.
“Right.” Eddie’s still watching him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick Buck knows means he’s thinking too hard about something. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and Buck waits with baited breath. Eddie shakes his head and licks his lips. “Okay, I’ll—. Right.”
“Drive safe.”
Eddie nods and steps back one, two, turn, three, four, truck door, step up, turns the key, starts the engine, five, six, pulls away from the curb.
Buck forces himself to turn his back, he can’t watch the UHaul disappear around the corner. He forces himself to walk back to the Jeep, to heave his wet, ponderous self into the driver's seat and catches the smallest glimpse of tail lights in the review mirror and snaps .
A cry tears its way up his throat, fists, and forearms smashing against the staring wheel as the anguish builds, hitting the horn at random intervals.
Briefly, he feels bad for Eddie’s neighbors—who aren’t Eddie’s neighbors anymore.
His forehead falls against the wheel as he shakes and wheezes and tastes the salty tears streaming down his cheeks. Sobbing and hiccupping he wraps his arms as tightly as he can around himself and forces breath into his lungs.