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It starts when they’re all living at Buck’s during the worst of the lockdown; Hen and Chim taking over the downstairs, Eddie and Buck claiming Buck’s bedroom.
It’s fine for weeks. Buck has an obscenely large king-size bed and they even agree on who gets what side of the bed, and even though Buck snores it’s somehow like white noise to Eddie’s ears. And Buck never steals pillows, even though he claims Eddie does.
They muddle through just fine, more than fine, sometimes, when Eddie can forget he’s living apart from his son, he and Buck lay in bed and talk - whispering to each other like they’re at a sleep-over. Some nights they get yelled at by Hen or Chim to shut up and go to sleep, to stop their laughing - Chim calls it giggling, but whatever, it’s very robust laughter and totally not Eddie giggling until there’s tears in his eyes and his chest hurts from the joy of it and he has to turn his head and smother the giggling with his pillow. Other nights there’s no laughter, no shouts from Hen or Chim, just long held secrets and regrets brought to the surface in the safety of night and Buck’s bed.
Eddie’s never trusted anyone like he trusts Buck. He’s never said the things out loud that he’s said to Buck.
So it all starts during one of those nights.
He’s remembering Shannon, all the bad times, the loss of the futures they’d planned before she got pregnant, and suddenly Eddie’s crying. He hates it. He keeps telling Buck over and over that he doesn’t regret Christopher, he’ll never regret Christopher, but he wants to know what nineteen year old Eddie would’ve been, and he hates himself for wanting that when what he got instead was so much more than anything he could’ve ever hoped to have. Buck doesn’t say anything, he just lets him cry and stumble over his words, and when Eddie finally stops to let out a shaky, trembling breath, Buck pulls him into his arms and suddenly Eddie can breathe again.
He presses his face into the soft cotton of Buck’s t-shirt, feels the hardness of his chest underneath it, feels the warmth of Buck’s arms that are so big and strong but gentle in a way that makes a sudden ache pierce through Eddie, sharp and painful. He wants to pull away, get far away from Buck’s kindness and care, because he doesn’t deserve it - doesn’t want to want it. But he’s cold and hurting and Buck is warm and he knows he’s safe right where he is, that Buck will never judge him, and that he can let himself have what he wants.
So it starts.
And it keeps happening because Eddie can’t let it go. Doesn’t want to let it go.
He tries to ration it out, tries not to need it as much as he wants it. He’ll go months without it, and then everything just gets to be too much. The world is too loud, his heart aches too much, the thoughts never still in his head, and then finally, finally, he’ll give in and call Buck, or go to him if Christopher happens to be at a friend’s house, or with Pepa.
When he calls Buck he can never ask, can never say the words out loud, but Buck knows when it’s the middle of the night and Eddie calls him, silent on the other end of the line, he says softly—
“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
And Eddie nods, even though it doesn’t make sense, and Buck can’t see him. He nods, all his words and tears and hurt clogging his throat, choking him, and he waits. He waits until he hears the turn of Buck’s key in the lock, the drop of his shoes at the door, the squeak of the floorboard he always manages to step on in the hallway even though he tries to avoid it, and then he’s there, standing in the door of Eddie’s bedroom. All Eddie can see of him is his outline as he closes the door behind him and crawls in under the blankets as he reaches out to pull Eddie into his arms.
And he can breathe.
He can breathe, and he can sleep, and he feels like, at least for the night, that the world is soft and gentle, that his world is Buck.
When Eddie goes to Buck’s he never calls, he can’t make himself for some reason, maybe he’s scared Buck will say no, stay home, let me sleep, so he doesn’t give him the chance. He just gets in his truck and drives over to the loft and lets himself in. Sometimes he loves to stand in the weird semi-darkness of Buck’s loft, the windows letting in the light from outside and casting a night glow over everything. It’s peaceful somehow, calming. He’ll stand at the foot of Buck’s stairs and feel lightness soak into him until he feels like his feet aren’t so heavy, that he can lift them up enough to make it up the stairs.
Once he’s at the top he loves to watch Buck sleep, just for a minute, just long enough that he can tell himself it’s not creepy, or weird. But Buck always looks so ridiculous, his face smashed into a pillow, his mouth open as he lightly snores, and somehow it makes Eddie want to cry because Buck’s still so beautiful somehow. And he’s Eddie’s.
He’s Eddie’s.
At least in that moment he’s Eddie’s, and every wonderful thing he is, belongs to him.
Of course it’s during one of those nights that he realizes Buck is all of those wonderful, imperfect, beautiful things to him because he loves him. He loves him in a way that terrifies him and exhilarates him all at once, and that’s a whole other pain he gathers up and holds close because he can’t tell Buck, he can’t say the words. He’s too afraid of how it’ll change everything.
So, instead of being brave, he hides it all away, and takes those few and far between nights as the only solace he’s allowed.
He thinks he’s fine, that he’s handling it as well as he can - as well as he handles anything, really, but then one night Buck says, ‘it was a date,’ and Eddie finds out he’s not actually handling it well at all. Because now he knows it could’ve been him, maybe, if he’d been brave enough. If he’d taken the chance to say—
I love you.
You’re the only one who knows me.
All of me.
You’re the only thing holding me together.
But he didn’t say all of those things and now he feels like he’s truly lost him somehow. He feels like maybe he can’t have his nights anymore and he feels himself breaking apart at the seams.
He breaks apart and he takes everyone with him.
He fucks up his life, he doesn’t let himself touch Buck, and he slowly starts to drown.
Buck tries his best to get Eddie’s mind off of Christopher being gone, looks at him with big, sad eyes when Eddie pretends too hard to be fine, because of course Buck sees through all of that, sees through the disguise. And isn’t that why Eddie loves him so terribly?
So everything simmers, then starts to boil, as Eddie aches for his son, and falls more and more in love with Buck as he so quietly and gently looks out for him without an ounce of condemnation for the mess Eddie’s made of his life.
And in the dark of night he can’t take it anymore.
He’s at Buck’s door.
Only this time he knocks because he’s not sure what he’ll find on the other side of the door if he lets himself in.
He knocks quietly, steadily, his forehead pressed against Buck’s door, until he opens it for him.
And then there he is, standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of sweats like he just threw them on as an afterthought, and Eddie knows. He knows he was right to knock, that it’s one of his many nightmares come true.
But he steps through the door anyway.
He presses himself into Buck, wraps his arms around him and clings to him.
Buck reeks of sex but Eddie doesn’t care. He doesn’t fucking care. All he wants to do is crawl inside him and reek with him. Drown in it. Choke on it.
He turns his face into the curve of Buck’s neck, his mouth open from the force of his breaths, and he wants to latch on, lick his skin and swallow him whole.
He feels his fingers digging into Buck’s bare back and he can vaguely hear Buck whispering his name, confused but kind, and Eddie doesn’t know where this wild hunger comes from. Where this insanity comes from that makes him want to rip Buck apart so he can crawl inside him at the same time he wants to devour him so no one else can have him.
Buck says his name again because he’s shaking, he’s shaking in Buck’s arms, and he’s making awful whimpering noises, and all he wants to do is stop it, but he can’t so he just presses in closer, makes Buck stumble back with the force of it.
But Buck doesn’t let go, he keeps holding on, and Eddie digs his claws in deeper. But then—
“Buck?”
And Eddie knows it isn’t his voice that said it, that it came from the top of the stairs, steps away from the bed that should be his, and he abruptly lets go.
Buck sort of stumbles again as Eddie steps back from him, like the gravity of his black hole releases Buck and he has to find his bearings again to stay upright.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
He looks upstairs and sees the outline of what he knew was there.
“I’m sorry,” he says again as he backs up towards the still open door.
“Eddie, it’s okay–”
He hears Buck start to say as he reaches for him, but he can’t stay here anymore, and he flees before Buck can say another word.
He’s not sure how he gets home without killing himself, or someone else, but he does, and once he closes his own door behind him he lets out a shrill, manic laugh. He’s fucked everything up again.
Again.
How is he supposed to explain what he just did, how he acted? How is he supposed to say to Buck, sorry, I’m so sorry, but I love you and now you’re doomed just like Shannon, just like Chris.
I’m sorry I’m going to break you too.
His phone is buzzing in his pocket. Has been since he walked out of Buck’s loft. He drops it on the kitchen table and walks out into the backyard and sits down on the top step of the back deck. The deck he and Buck built one long weekend when Chris was nine and wanted a deck because he decided Buck should start barbequing like Bobby, and they obviously needed a deck to do it.
The fact that Eddie built onto the foundation his goddamn house for Buck should’ve told him he was fucked. Probably from day one.
But as is always the case, Eddie stayed intentionally blind, hid inside himself, and now here he is.
Here he is.
He’s sitting with his arms around his knees, scrunched up and small, eyes closed and trying to block out all of the noise, but of course he hears Buck.
Of course he does.
Buck’s soft footsteps behind him, then beside him, as he sits down next to him - close enough their shoulders touch and Eddie feels himself burn.
“I’m sorry,” he says yet again, it seems to be all he can say.
“Don’t be sorry,” Buck says. “I should be sorry.”
Buck must feel the disbelief rolling off of Eddie because he continues, answers the question Eddie doesn’t even need to ask.
“I wasn’t there for you.”
Eddie closes his eyes and sighs.
“You don’t need to be on call for me 24/7, Buck. You shouldn’t have to be.”
“You would be for me.”
Eddie risks opening his eyes, looks over at Buck and sees the truth of it clear on his face. Buck says it like it’s a known fact of the world, and it is. Eddie would do anything for Buck, without hesitation, simple as that.
And Eddie decides to fuck it all. He’s already imploded his life, why not keep charging ahead? Buck has already seen his insanity tonight, has witnessed it manifesting itself right in his arms, what more can he lose?
“Because I love you,” Eddie says, quietly but clearly, and with intent. “I would be there for you because I love you.”
Buck slips his hand into the crook of Eddie’s arm and rests his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder.
“I love you too.”
Eddie feels the words leave Buck’s mouth and sink into his skin, the puff of breath that carried them warm against his sleeve. The electric spark that ticks through Eddie’s veins as the words flow through him warms him up from the inside. He knows Buck means as a friend, but he lets himself pretend, just for a moment.
“I know you do.”
And Eddie could stop there, just let it be, two friends who love each other, who fight for each other, but he can’t. He’s been a coward his whole goddamn life and he’s done. He’s so fucking done.
“But that’s not how I love you,” he continues. “I love you in ways that make me feel whole, make me feel alive, but I love you in ways that terrify me.”
He feels Buck grip his arm tighter, feels him stiffen in attention.
“Do you know what I was thinking back at your place? What was going through my mind?”
Buck shakes his head no, his face brushing against Eddie’s arm.
“I was holding onto you, smelling someone else on you, and all I could think was that I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care that I wasn’t supposed to want you, or need you, that I should do everything on my own. All I was thinking about was what would it take to crack your ribs apart so I could step inside you because just being in your arms wasn’t close enough. I wanted more. And thought that if I couldn’t do that, if I couldn’t dissolve myself into you, then maybe I could just drag you down to the floor and bite into you, tear into you and swallow you piece by piece so you could never leave me.”
“Eddie.”
He ignores Buck and plows forward, digging himself deeper and deeper.
“What is that?” he asks. “What insanity is that? You’re with someone else, you’re not mine, you shouldn’t be mine. I’ll break everything in you that’s good because I’m greedy and sick with love for you. I hold everything inside until I explode and my shrapnel will bury itself in you and hurt you, it’ll make you hate me and I can’t—”
Eddie has to stop talking because Buck has let go of him, has pushed his arms away from his knees, a hand on his chest forcing him to sit up straighter so Buck can slide onto his lap, his long legs straddling him, his knees pressing into Eddie’s hips.
“Rip me apart,” Buck says as he grabs at Eddie’s hands and drags them to his chest. “Crack my ribs open. Do it. I want you to. I’ve always wanted you to.”
“Buck, don’t—”
“I’ve always been crazy when it comes to you. I can’t handle anyone having your attention but me, I need to believe you’re always thinking about me.”
“I am, Buck. Fuck, I am.”
“I want you to bury yourself inside me where I’ve been so hollow all of my life. All of my life until you. I want you all the time.”
Buck rocks into him and Eddie clutches at Buck’s t-shirt, is sure his fingers will tear it.
“I’m not with anyone else, I’m with you. When I kiss him, it’s you. When I fuck him, it’s you. When I tell myself it can be enough, the lies and pretending, it’s still you. It’s still you because I know you want me around even when I’m crazy and stupid and mean, you come back to me. You always come back to me.”
Eddie drags Buck forward and kisses him and the blaring blaring noise is gone.
All of it.
It’s just Buck and the taste of his lips.
And he knew Buck’s mouth would be sweet, but he had no idea. No idea how it would alter and rearrange his cells. Even more than his arms, Buck’s lips hold him down to earth, pull him back into his body until he no longer feels like he could just float away. Like he’s always felt. Outside of his body looking in, an audience to his own life, but now he’s inside his body. Inside it with Buck and it’s the sweetest fucking relief.
“I’ll always be right here with you,” he says, his mouth still pressed against Buck’s.
“I’m never letting go,” Buck promises.
And it’s finally enough.