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Buck sits on a ledge of a bridge.
He's been here before, a few times, but never like this.
It has a very nice view. It overlooks the city in a way that makes everything feel so... Peaceful.
He's never been one for heights, but he appreciates watching the city from here. Each house with its twinkling light that represents a small part of the ecosystem, a cell that's part of a larger ecosystem. Each street a winding river, the cars the fish and the streetlamps the coral. The trees that are interspersed bring a much needed feeling of life, to a city that would feel cold and impersonal otherwise.
It's a bit hard to see the view right now at this time of night, but Buck can still make out the shapes well enough to be content with it.
The street's been empty for a good chunk of time. If he wants to do anything, he should do it now before he loses his chance.
But despite having made it all this way, he's still not convinced.
He's still not quite sure why he's here.
He... He doesn't want to jump.
But the ledge is still calling to him.
It's stupid to tempt fate, especially when it seems to favour him for near death experiences so often, but Buck couldn't get the itch to stop.
He’d been hoping that finally seeking it out, that turning the idea into something more concrete, would finally make it go away, would finally shock his system enough into remembering that he wants to live.
But instead being here is making it seem all too easy.
All he has to do is just…
Let go.
Let go of all the fear.
Let go of all the hurt.
Let go of all the anxiety.
Let go of all the impending regret.
Let go—
He takes a sharp inhale as his grip loosens and he really does almost tip over into the abyss.
His grip immediately tightens, and he almost falls backwards from the whiplash of him trying to lean back.
He can't stay here.
This isn't what he wants.
He shuts his eyes, fighting back the tears and taking a shaky breath.
He doesn't want to die. He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't—
Before he can really think anything else, he's grabbing his phone out of his pocket and clicking on the contact that's been added as a widget to his home screen so he could easily access it in those early mornings when he used to do daily check-ins.
He hasn't done one in a while, not for lack of needing it, but for lack of thinking he deserved it.
It rings, once, twice, and then he hears the tall tale click of it being answered.
"Bobby?" Buck breathes shakily, one hand gripping the phone and the other gripping the railing.
"Buck? Are you okay? What's wrong?" Bobby answers immediately, concern dripping enough to fill a pool. He doesn't sound like he's been sleeping and Buck struggles to remember if he's on shift or not.
"Can you—can you come pick me up?" Buck asks, and he sways slightly, breath quickening as he leans a little too forward.
"Of course," Bobby says, and Buck can hear the rustling of him grabbing his jacket, the jingle of keys, the swoosh of paper falling. "Where are you?"
"I'm at—” Buck chokes on his answer, scared to say it aloud. He knows what it'll sound like. And the worst part is those assumptions won't be wrong.
“Buck?” Bobby questions and he can hear the worry in his voice, can already picture the way his eyebrows are furrowed and the tight lines on his forehead.
“I'm at Colarado Street,” Buck whispers, and this time he feels a tear slip through.
Bobby's quiet for just a moment, but Buck knows he's connecting the dots. “Okay. Okay, I'll be there super soon Buck. Can you please stay on the line with me?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, swallowing. “I can—I can do that.”
“Okay. Okay, good.” Bobby replies and Buck listens, distantly registering the sound of Bobby starting up his truck.
“Thank you,” Buck tells him, voice still hushed. His throat feels tight, thick with emotion.
“Of course,” Bobby is quick to answer, and it really does sound genuine. “Are you okay?”
Buck coughs out a laugh.
“...Okay, maybe not the best question to ask. Are you safe though?”
“Yeah. I’m not… I’m not, uhm, in any physical danger.” Buck stares at the fall below him, before quickly averting his gaze as the view makes him nauseous.
“Good. That’s good…” Bobby says and there’s silence for a few moments, before Bobby speaks again. “You know our new next door neighbours?”
Buck snorts, recalling Bobby’s many recent rants about them. “The crazy ones that you’re convinced have a personal vendetta against you?”
“They do!” Bobby retorts and the laugh that comes out of Buck loosens the tension that’d been threatening to suffocate him. He leans back further into the railing behind him, settling fully as he prepares for whatever Bobby’s next rant will be. “Well, today was garbage day, right? And I know for a fact that I put out the bin with enough space from the curb to be picked up.”
“Mhm,” Buck hums, eyes falling shut as he focuses on Bobby’s voice.
“Athena told me the bin wasn’t picked up. Now either the city decided to skip us for whatever reason or the neighbours messed with our bin.”
“What does Athena think about this?”
“...that I’m maybe looking too much into something that doesn’t exist. Michael thinks I’m on to something though!”
Yeah, of course Michael’s on Bobby’s side. Buck doesn’t really have the energy to argue either way though. “What are you going to do next?”
This time it’s Bobby’s turn to hum and Buck can hear the faint clicking of the blinker being switched on in the background. “Not sure yet. I think I’ll wait for the next garbage day to see what happens. But I’m on to them. They won’t get away with it next time.”
Buck huffs, amusement at Bobby’s shenanigans filling his insides. He… he’s really grateful for Bobby. He’d known that Bobby would come when he called, but—
It was nice to have it proved to him anyway.
Suddenly he’s hit with another wave of grief, and he curls in on himself, the whiplash of emotions knocking the wind out of him. He really almost lost this forever.
If he’d jumped—
What would Bobby have done?
Would he have blamed himself? Would he be angry at him?
Would he have ever been able to forgive him?
Buck’s breathing quickens, as he starts to spiral, picturing all of the 118’s reaction to him jumping.
Oh god, he was so fucking selfish.
“Buck?” Bobby’s voice cuts through his spiraling and Buck’s eyes flash open. He tilts his head, still trying to avoid the leering edge, and instead tries to focus on the few stars that he can see above him. The light pollution has hidden most of them, but if he squints he’s able to make out a handful here or there.
“You with me, kid?” Bobby asks again and Buck can hear the thinly veiled panic causing the guilt from before to increase tenfold.
Buck doesn’t want to know what Bobby’s going to be like after finding him here.
“I’m here,” Buck answers, voice still weak, but he’s trying for Bobby’s benefit.
“How,” Buck starts, but has to pause, swallowing hard as his throat has closed up again, “how far are you?”
“Around ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Buck says, and he watches as a satellite streams across the sky, reminiscent of a shooting star.
“Did you park the Jeep nearby?” asks Bobby, and Buck winces.
“No… No, I bussed.” Buck hadn’t really planned on following through, but he’d known that either way he probably shouldn’t drive in this headspace.
“Okay, I’m getting off the exit now. Hang tight.”
“Will do, Bobby.” The closer Bobby gets, the more anxious Buck becomes. He tries to tell himself Bobby coming is a good thing. This is what Buck wants .
Bobby won’t get mad when he finds him… probably.
The last bit of the drive is spent mostly in silence and Buck does his best to keep his breathing under control. He knows he should probably move from the ledge and make it easier for Bobby, but every time he thinks about moving he gets frozen in fear.
He feels too unsteady right now.
He hears Bobby’s truck before he speaks. “Okay, I’m coming onto the bridge now. Where are you?”
Buck… Buck does not want to answer that.
“Buck?”
Maybe calling Bobby was a mistake.
He shouldn't have to deal with Buck. He shouldn't have to drive across town just to make sure Buck gets home safe. Buck should be able to get off this bridge by himself.
Bobby's gonna get so angry at him, and even if he doesn't, he should—
“Buck, are you there—”
“I'm sorry. Bobby, I'm so sorry—” Buck starts, the tears from before coming back with a vengeance. His throat is still tight and his chest still hurts, even as the tears pour freely. Will it ever stop hurting?
“Hey, it's okay. Don't apologise. I'm right here, Buck. Just hang on.” Buck doesn't bother to look to where he can hear the truck pulling over to the side of the road.
“I'm coming, kid, I'm coming.”
Buck hears Bobby turn the car off, listens as the engine quiets and the keys jingle as he takes them out of the ignition.
He keeps his eyes shut tight, even as he hears Bobby exit the truck, both from the phone and now outside.
There's a pause where Buck assumes Bobby is scanning the area to find him. It is dark, so it's probably not the easiest, but Buck can't get himself to speak.
He hears it when Bobby spots him. It's a sharp inhale, followed by a few heavy breaths.
Buck thinks he's going to be sick.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers, and this time it's quiet enough he's not sure Bobby can even hear it.
It takes a bit of time and Buck can just make out the sounds of cursing as Bobby makes it over the fence—which makes him equal parts amused and guilty—but soon enough, he hears the sound of Bobby hanging up the call.
“Buck?”
Buck swallows, still terrified, but he looks up anyway.
Bobby—
He looks concerned, the crows feet around his eyes are creased and there's a tension that lines his entire body, but—
He doesn't look angry.
A part of him almost looks relieved, though he does mostly look worried.
When he makes eye contact with Buck, his expression softens, and he smiles at him. “Hey kid.”
Buck’s lip quivers, not quite able to smile back. “Hi Bobby.”
“You okay if I come over to you?” Bobby asks, and distantly Buck registers that he's being treated the way they treat people on calls, but he's too tired to care.
Buck nods. He wants nothing more than to get off this ledge, but he's terrified of making even the slightest movement right now.
Bobby makes his way over to Buck carefully, but even that's not enough to prevent his foot from slipping, and Buck feels his stomach drop as he watches Bobby grip the fence to steady himself.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He repeats to himself, over and over as he watches Bobby come closer. He holds his breath the entire time, terrified of Bobby falling.
Finally Bobby makes it to him, and he sits down next to Buck, not needing to say anything else before Buck falls into his open arms.
“I got you, kid.” Bobby reassures him, cradling Buck protectively, and Buck breaks down, his whole body shaking with the intensity of his sobs.
It's loud and Buck hates how it sounds, he hates the hiccuping and the snorts and how messy it all is, but Bobby isn’t phased. He just continues to hold Buck, shushing him softly and running small circles on his back. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
Buck squeezes Bobby with as much strength as he has left, terrified that if he lets go he’ll end up tumbling off the ledge.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bobby tells him, voice not once wavering. “You’re okay.”
Buck’s not sure how long they stay there, but eventually he tires himself out and moves his face away from where it's buried into Bobby. Bobby still keeps his arm around Buck, but now they’re sitting side by side.
He releases a shaky breath. He’s not sure where to go from here.
He stares into the horizon, though he doesn’t really process anything.
His brain has kind of turned off, overwhelmed by everything.
Distantly, he registers Bobby’s hand start to rub his arm again. It grounds him.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice raw from crying.
“Anytime. I’ll always be here for you. Whatever you need.” Bobby brings him in tight before loosening. “You call, I’ll answer.”
Buck finds himself smiling, as small as it is. He wants to say thank you again, but since he just said that, he decides to ask instead. “Can we go home?”
“Of course,” Bobby gives one last squeeze before he gets up and extends a hand to Buck.
Buck knows tomorrow they’ll have to have a conversation about this, but in the meantime he’s content to let Bobby guide him to the truck in silence.
Getting to the other side of the fence is much harder than it was on the way in and Buck hates himself just a little more for having to make himself climb the fence to get out. He’s so exhausted his legs are shaking as he stands, but somehow he manages to climb over.
When he lands he finds himself falling into Bobby all over again, the relief of making it away from the ledge making him weak in the knees.
He did it. He’s alive. He made it out.
Buck called and Bobby answered.
Things are hard right now, but he’s not alone.
Bobby’s here and he’s not going anywhere.