Chapter Text
Buck is drowning.
A crash of waves, cold and rough and violent, aggressively shaking him, beating up his weak limbs. So tall and strong waves that he can’t breath as much as he tries.
Cold water splashing, taking him down. Nature doesn't really care about how strong he is in solid ground, the ocean fighting against him and winning. He can feel the tightness on his chest. Hyperventilating, looking for more air that isn’t there. He’s drowning again, and again and again. His eyes are so closed that they hurt.
He catches a glimpse of air, heads up, frantic gasp. Trying to grow into his chest to collect air, to give his lungs another chance.
He sees him: scrawny, little, sad eyes behind those glasses, too big for his frame. Looking like a wet puppy. Grabbing a pole that fell from the sky with all his strength, that against the interminable ocean that’s stood between them.
Chris! He wants to say, but no sound comes out. Christopher remains calm, strangely, when his fingers give up against the unstoppable force. The water takes him far, far away. Buck can still see a pinch of the sun glistening on his curls even when he is miles away, more unreachable than ever.
No, no, no, no. No. Not again. Not again. His chest rises and falls but the breathing stopped long ago. Something like a fist choking him, alongside the water.
Buck throws his arms up. Another night looking for help, asking for someone, anyone, to stop his drowning. He should save himself. He should know how already. A burden, always screaming distress, even when his own mind it’s trying to kill him repeatedly.
He wakes up right then, in a sweat. He grabs the couch he’s sleeping on, trying to ground himself. His knuckles are white because of the strong grip but he can’t see it in the darkness of the room. Eddie’s living room.
“Buck…”
“Oh my God”. Buck’s still gaining his breath back when an unexpected voice comes along, it startles him. He is trying to adjust his sight to the dark that reigns on the night. Although, he could recognize that voice anyways.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, looking at him, grabbing his wrist. “You are shaking”.
Buck nods but then he remembers they can’t see as much in the middle of the night. “I’m fine”. He answers in a whisper, not realizing he is still shaking until he feels the soft touch of Eddie’s thumb on his arm, circling around his pulse, a movement that’s so natural that feels like he’s been doing it for a long time. Anxiety burst inside of him feeling like a heavy stone clutching his core, but Eddie’s touch helps him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Buck sits up on the couch to look at Eddie more comfortably.
Eddie grabs Buck’s neck from behind, shaking his head. It’s a surprise for Buck but he doesn’t complain. He is squatting in front of him, to be at his eye-level, his knees bumping Buck’s legs. Now that he can see better, those big brown eyes are gazing at him, intensely. His hand feels too hot there, on his neck.
As if all of that contact wasn’t enough, Eddie rests his forehead on top of his who’s still dripping in sweat. Buck doesn’t notice how irregular his breath still is, not until Eddie talks again, a soft and low tone on his voice, like he is carefully trying to not startle Buck again. ”I need you to breathe for me, okay? Follow my lead”.
Of course, Buck listens. How could Eddie not know that he would follow his lead anywhere? Especially now, when the touch on his neck and legs are clinging him to reality. The quiet reality here, in their home, where nightmares aren’t coming true. He’s okay. At least, alive.
Christopher is okay too, he remembers. He is sleeping calmly on his own bed, just a few rooms away. So much bigger and so much stronger than the last time he stupidly let him slip from his fingers.
Buck feels an emptiness because he loses Eddie’s touch on his wrist. Just for a moment, because that hand goes straight for his chest. His heart skips a beat and he doesn’t think that the panic that is settling now has to do with it. It’s more likely to be related to his best friend: worried about him, with a pout on his pretty face, still clinging to him, while he repeats how he has to breathe.
“Remember, keep your chest as still as you can, your stomach has to go up and down. Focus on your breathing”. That explains the hand on Buck’s broad chest, a heat from Eddie’s touch piercing through his shirt, guiding him to slow his breath. While Eddie says, with his paramedic practiced patience, breath in, breath out, Buck starts to feel calm. They both breathe the same air, not keeping their eyes out of each other, creating a dual slow pace that almost makes Buck forget why he was so scared only a few minutes early.
Why was he so scared? The nightmares had been ongoing. The grief it's clearly a trigger, he is feeling so much closer to death now than before. An old acquaintance, his multiple scars on his torso and his legs (just to mention a few) showing how he shook hands with Death more than once and got away with it. So close, once, that Eddie was able to count how many minutes he was lost, away from the living world.
Bobby’s death reminded him that you can’t always get away with it. And it’s not okay. Bobby not being here is the worst outcome he could imagine. It’s unfair, tragic, fucked up. Time is supposed to make him give in, to help him heal. But it doesn’t, not really. That scar is more deep than any other he or any member of his family could take in an entire lifetime.
Time passes. The world keeps spinning. Unfortunately, that’s how it works. He still feels the same.
But he thinks he can handle it on his own.
And maybe he can, he tries so hard everyday to get out of bed (or, more likely, couch), keep working, chin up, and don't cry at any given second.
The days pass by and it doesn’t feel so difficult as he thought it would be. He can wake up grumbling but making sweet, full of love breakfast to Eddie and now Christopher as well. The loneliness isn’t carving his ribs at any step, not in this house with his family. His job keeps him steady, also the rest of his family. They know they can rely on each other, they can rely on him. It never stops hurting but maybe, the ache could be calmer, quieter.
He guesses that it’s easier to give up the negative thoughts away when the sun is shining and his body is busy, distracted, buzzing for sharing moments with the people he loves like Eddie.
The nights are different.
The dreams stay on by themselves. Don’t ask for permission nor consent. They were not such an effort at the beginning when the only worry was that he could die too.
But not all the nightmares are about him dying.
This desperate train of thoughts is easing anyway because of Eddie’s help. Buck realizes his breathing is normal when his friend breaks the physical contact, standing up. Even though he wasn’t on his arms, his light touch on his neck, on his chest, on his legs is missing now. His breathing encompassed, so close, too.
“Do you wanna sleep on the bed tonight?” He looks at the floor, embarrassed. With his cheeks probably flushed but no one can see. Even when both of their sights are getting used to the darkness with this much minutes passing.
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to make you sleep uncomfortable here”. He doesn’t say he is fine again, he doesn’t want to lie.
“No, I mean—” Eddie can’t finish the sentence while Buck looks at him trying to not think about how he would love to remove a few of his hair strands that rests in front of his eyes and caress the frustrated frown that grows now on his face like he couldn’t help it. He is struggling for the words to come out, feeling the soft touch of frustration growing inside his chest. He could backtrack at any time, coming back to his big bed and leaving Buck on his own again. But he has been thinking about this ever since they were roommates. Not just for the sake of helping Buck. But, well, it’s a good excuse to ease his anxiety about inviting another man to his bed, even when that man is his best friend. It should feel wrong but it’s Buck. “The other night I saw you, on our shift. You didn’t sleep well. You were breathing hard, gasping for air, sweating, like a night terror or something. You’re struggling”.
“Eddie, I think I can manage”. He wants to stop his rambling. And his worry. And his sadness. That one they’ve been sharing for the last few months without saying a lot about it.
“Listen. I heard you scream here too. I don’t want you to keep sleeping alone if I can help you. I can be closer and you know, it’s so much easier to recover after a nightmare if somebody’s touching you”
If somebody’s touching you. Buck knows he says it in a professional manner. He’s been googling ways of grounding himself. So much anxiety crippling on his chest, resting on his shoulders, making his teeth ache and his breath caught on his throat. He knows that it's so much easier to not panic if someone else can help, if Eddie, as he offers, can touch him coming back to life. The contact can ground him to reality, making him feel connected to his body instead to his mind. That’s what Eddie’s talking about.
‘“I don't wanna bother” Buck confesses, with a sigh. His normal breath already came back but, nonetheless, his heart keeps pounding thinking about what Eddie just proposed to him.
It’s really nothing though, this is his straight best friend and he can put his own feelings away just for the sake of a good sleep after weeks. Put all those feelings inside a box on his heart that he could never open because it would burst out, uncontrollably. It isn’t different from what he's been doing ever since Eddie came back and they started sharing a domesticity, a routine with the meals, helping Chris with homework, doing laundry, washing dishes. They share a home and a child and Buck loves him. He knows he loves Eddie. As much, he is in love with him.
No one else has to know
“You aren’t, don’t be ridiculous. Come sleep with me”. The gripping guilt on Eddie’s gut is obviously there. Strong as every time he thinks of it. Not for sharing the bed, per se. But it’s not the only thing that Eddie has been thinking about Buck.
It wasn’t only sharing the bed as much as the stupid need of taking care of him. And thinking that being in his arms at night could make him feel better too. Their hugs were always a safe place, so much longer these last times when none of them could have the strength to let go.
It’s just sleeping, Eddie tries to ease his mind while they come back together to the bedroom. And it is, it really is. But to him, it doesn’t make sense how he can’t fall asleep until the mountain of a man next to him, away, on the other side, is breathing slow and steady, safe. That chest going up and down, and up and down, alive, okay, Buck finally at peace with his dreams. That’s when Eddie can fall asleep too, too tired to think about anything else.
__________
Eddie feels the weight besides him shifting. It’s still early but now the sun it’s peeking through the window. He lays down still, can’t sleep for a few minutes now knowing Buck it’s there with him. He’s been watching, staring although he would never confess it. Looking at his fluttering long lashes featuring that birthmark that he would die to touch, at his chest moving tranquile underneath the same sheets he washed yesterday, the cute acne scars shadowing his jaw, the plumped lips slightly parted in a sleep empty on dreams.
At least until now when Buck starts moving again. The quietness long gone, he shakes, his still shut eyes move crazy behind his lashes. He starts to talk, almost screaming, still sleeping. “Eddie! No, please. Eddie!”.
Eddie acts quick, with the long, embarrassing, staring as an advantage. “Shh, shh’”. Puts his big hand on Buck’s shoulder and shakes him softly so he can wake up. “Buck”, he whispers. “I’m here”. His fingers trails Buck’s arm like he did when he was sleeping on the couch, something he wants to do every now and then even if Buck is asleep or not.
Buck sheds a tear a second before opening his eyes, suddenly.
Through his damp eyes, he happens to crack a soft smile because the first thing he sees is Eddie’s worried expression over him, looking at him just like when he woke up on the couch.
On early morning, the sight of Eddie being there, opposite of the sun, his messy hair shining and his cheeks slightly red are so soothing, not counting the touch on his arm, grounding him. Buck is gaining his normal breath quickly.
He doesn’t know he was crying until Eddie’s hand moves up his arm to caress his cheek, wiping the tear that managed to escape when he was still asleep. Unaware of his own movement, he presses his cheek harder against Eddie’s hand, a warmness growing inside his chest thanks to the look of that man in front of him, his big brown eyes hugged by a frown he wishes could flat out so his friend never feels uneased again.
Right and then, he remembers he is the reason for that look on Eddie.
“Sorry”. He says, a heavy awful sensation in his chest, the sense of being needy, useless. He always came with a sort of task attached to him, but now the grief on top of it all makes him worse. Eddie must be tired of having to take care of him. Everyone should be. He blinks so his eyes clear. “Good morning”.
“Good morning. It’s pretty early tho, you can sleep a little more”.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna—” Doesn’t end the sentence with the rush of getting up, suddenly with the necessity of not trying to bother anymore, to keep being a burden.
It looks like he is running away from Eddie’s touch and Eddie shuts down his eyes, thinking that it was too far.
“Buck”, he says, softly, and watches as Buck puts on a shirt that looks a little too tight in him. “You know we can talk about it if you want, right?”
“I—I know. Thanks. Everything’s fine now, it’s daytime”.