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The crash of thunder jolted Eddie awake.
He sat up, chest tight, breath caught for just a second as the lightning cracked across the sky and lit up the bedroom. The low, rumbling growl that followed a second later made the windows tremble and the silence in the room feel even heavier.
The bed beside him was empty.
The sheets still held a little warmth, but Buck wasn’t there.
He never made it to bed.
Eddie blinked away the lingering haze of sleep, dragging a hand over his face. The storm outside was in full swing now, each flash of light followed by a deeper roll of thunder. He could already imagine the way the wind was howling against the windows in the living room.
Buck had been curled up on the couch when Eddie last saw him, half-asleep with a throw blanket clutched in his fists, eyes fluttering shut after dinner. Eddie had stood there for a while, watching him doze, before finally retreating to their room. He’d thought about waking him—telling him to come to bed, maybe even teasing him about being too cozy—but something had stopped him.
Buck had looked so peaceful. So still.
And Eddie knew better than to disrupt that kind of quiet.
Not after the week they’d had.
Now though, with the storm snarling outside and Buck nowhere in sight, Eddie’s mind started to spiral. He stayed in bed for a few long seconds, listening. Hoping to hear footsteps. A cough. Anything.
But the house stayed quiet, save for the storm and the soft creak of shifting wood.
Chris was gone for the night—sleepover at a friend’s house, already texted twice to say they were watching movies and eating too much popcorn. The house felt too big without him. Too empty.
Eddie glanced at the clock.
2:47 a.m.
He exhaled and sat there on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees.
Buck hadn’t regressed again since that day. At least—not completely. But Eddie had noticed the signs. The way he got quieter when things got loud. The way he blinked too long when overwhelmed. How easily he startled.
Storms were always a maybe.
Eddie stared at the bedroom door, half expecting Buck to come through it at any second, sheepish and tired, rubbing at his eyes and asking to crawl into bed like it was no big deal.
But he didn’t.
And Eddie… didn’t move yet.
He just sat there, fingers clenched around the edge of the blanket, heart pounding in rhythm with the thunder. Because deep down, he knew something had shifted. And he wasn’t sure yet how to face it.
Not just Buck.
Not just Evy.
But the storm inside him too.
The next lightning bolt cracked across the sky like a whip, blinding white light searing the edges of the bedroom curtains.
Then came the scream.
High-pitched. Raw. Frantic.
Eddie was on his feet before the thunder could catch up. He sprinted from the room, heart thudding against his ribs, socked feet slipping slightly on the hardwood floor as he rounded the corner into the living room.
Buck—no, Evy—was curled on the couch, knees drawn tightly to his chest, the throw blanket bunched in both fists and pressed over his head like it could hide him from the storm. His shoulders shook violently, sobs tearing from his throat between gasps of air and broken cries.
Eddie’s chest constricted at the sight.
“Evy,” he breathed, crossing the room in seconds. “Evy, hey—hey, it’s okay.”
Evy didn’t seem to hear him at first. His eyes were wide and glassy, rimmed red, locked on some point past Eddie’s shoulder. Another bolt flashed. Another boom followed.
Evy shrieked.
“Nooo! No no no no no—” he wailed, rocking slightly, his voice smaller than it should’ve been coming from Buck’s full-grown body.
Eddie knelt in front of him, reaching out carefully, hands slow and steady.
“I’m here, cariño,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s just a storm, baby. It’s just noise. I’ve got you.”
But Evy didn’t move into the comfort.
He stayed frozen.
So Eddie tried again.
He scooted closer, curling an arm around Evy’s shaking form and tugging the blanket back just enough to see his tear-streaked face.
“I promise, you’re safe. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here, okay?”
And then—finally—Evy turned his head.
“Daddy?” he whimpered.
Eddie’s heart broke all over again.
“Yeah, I’m here. Right here,” he said, pulling Evy into his chest and wrapping both arms around him tightly. “You’re not alone.”
Evy clung to him then, wrapping trembling arms around Eddie’s torso and burying his face into his shirt. His sobs quieted into hiccups, into little sniffles and whimpers every time thunder rumbled again.
Eddie didn’t let go.
He shifted them until he was sitting on the couch with Evy half on his lap, the blanket wrapped around both of them like a shield. He smoothed a hand through Evy’s curls and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“It’s just a storm,” he murmured again. “It’ll pass. We’ll ride it out together.”
And as the wind howled and the rain slammed against the windows, Eddie held his boy close, not knowing how long it would take for him to fall asleep again—only knowing he would be there until he did.
But Evy didn’t fall asleep. Not yet.
His small frame was rigid in Eddie’s arms, every crack of thunder making him flinch like it was aimed right at him. His breathing hitched, and then, just when the sky lit up again with white-blue light, his voice broke through the dark.
“Is da sky mad?” he whispered, the question soaked in worry, as though the whole world might come crashing down if the answer was yes.
Eddie hugged him tighter, pulling him closer until Evy was practically tucked under his chin. “No, baby. The sky’s not mad. It just gets noisy sometimes.”
Evy squirmed slightly, twisting the blanket around his fingers. “But it’s yellin’. An’ yellin’ is mean.”
Eddie pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “It sounds like yelling, huh?” he said, soft. “But it’s just the thunder talking. And it can’t come in here, okay? We’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Evy looked up, eyes wide and shimmering with tears. “I dun like it, Daddy. It’s too big. It’s too loud. It makes my tummy all twisty.”
Eddie’s heart cracked just a little more. His Buck—his Evy—was always the one who smiled too big, carried too much, and kept too many things to himself. Seeing him like this, fragile and frightened, made Eddie feel protective in a way that went deeper than anything he’d ever known.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It’s okay to feel like that. You don’t have to be brave right now. I’ll be brave for both of us.”
Evy sniffled, wiping his face clumsily with the back of his hand. “Can Daddy make it go away?”
“I wish I could,” Eddie answered honestly. “But we just have to wait it out together. Storms don’t last forever.”
Another thunderclap boomed so loudly that Evy yelped and buried his face in Eddie’s chest. His hands clutched at Eddie’s hoodie, desperate for safety, for something to hold onto that wouldn’t shake the way the windows did.
Eddie quickly pulled the blanket over both of them, cocooning them in a small, dark bubble. “Look,” he whispered like it was a game, “we’re in a secret fort now. Just you and me. Our own little cave.”
Evy’s voice was small again. “Even da sky can’t find us here?”
“Nope,” Eddie promised. “Not even the loudest storm can get in. This fort is invincible.”
Evy pressed his cheek to Eddie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You smell nice,” he mumbled, which made Eddie chuckle softly despite the tension in the room.
Silence fell again, broken only by the rain and the occasional rumble overhead. Evy’s voice returned in quiet spurts, jumbled and half-formed.
“Da couch is squishy. But not like bed squishy.”
Eddie smiled into the top of his hair. “No, it’s not.”
“‘N the blanket’s not big ‘nough.”
“I think we’ve got a bigger one upstairs,” Eddie offered gently, running his fingers through the back of Evy’s hair.
Evy shifted, yawning loudly and blinking at the dim glow of the lamp. “‘M sleepy now. But not if da boom comes back.”
Eddie tilted his head, speaking low and careful. “Hey, Evy… you wanna come sleep in the bed with me?”
Evy looked up at him, eyes still watery, lips parted like he hadn’t even considered it. Then he nodded, quick and eager, his voice soft: “Yeah… yeah, please.”
Eddie stood slowly, keeping Evy wrapped tight in the blanket as he scooped him up. It was still Buck’s body—tall, strong, heavy in his arms—but the way Evy curled into him, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck, made him feel weightless in a different way.
“Okay, honey,” Eddie murmured, starting up the stairs. “We’ll go get the bigger blanket. And some pillows. And maybe a stuffed animal or two.”
“Chris got lotsa those…” Evy mumbled, words slurring as sleep began to tug at him again. “He gots da turtle one… and a dinosaur. I like da dinosaur.”
Eddie smiled softly. “Yeah? Maybe we’ll borrow it tomorrow. For now, you’ve got me.”
Evy didn’t answer. His breathing was getting slower, heavier. He made a soft sound—almost a whimper—when thunder rumbled again, but Eddie pressed a kiss to his temple and tightened his hold.
“It’s just noise,” he whispered as they reached the bedroom. “You’re okay.”
He set Evy down gently on the bed and pulled the comforter over them both. Evy immediately turned into Eddie’s side, still clutching part of the old blanket they’d used downstairs.
“Daddy?” he whispered once, eyes fluttering.
“I’m here.”
Evy let out a small sigh and closed his eyes again.
And Eddie stayed with him—watching the storm from the safety of their warm, quiet world, one arm around the man he loved in every version he came in.
“Good night Evy, sleep well” Eddie said, kissing his boy between his curls.
“Night Daddy”