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“Buck.”
“I think I’ll bring the suit to the dry-cleaners, tomorrow. Did you know that back in the day they used gasoline to clean clothes? We really would’ve been called every other day to put out fires.”
“Buck.”
“Are you hungry? I made baked ziti with the crumpets a few days ago, but I also have Bobby’s”, - he chokes around the name - “lasagna. Did I tell you I finally weaselled the recipe out of him? Just in time, eh? Right before he fucking dropped dead.” Buck laughs humourlessly, dropping down onto the kitchen floor, pulling his legs towards his chest in a self-hug. Buck’s 6’2 figure was hunched over himself in a way that made him seem more like a frightened child rather than a man in his 30s.
“Buck.” Eddie repeats again, crouching down in front of him, settling his palms on Buck’s knees. Eddie is no stranger to grief, but he doesn’t know how to navigate this particular flavour of grief - grief of his captain and good friend, who also happens to be the father figure of his own best friend.
The tears silently roll down Buck’s face. Buck usually feels everything so big and loud; it’s one of the many things that Eddie found both endearing and was jealous of. Eddie was raised to be the opposite; poised and under control even when the emotions felt unbearable. Seeing his friend struggle like this, quietly, was breaking his already fractured heart.
“He said he loved me, Eddie. And I didn’t say it back. I thought we’d be able to get him out. I thought that we’d have more time. I just thought…” Buck trails off, the words getting lost in a shaky breath, a soft sob.
“Oh, buddy.” Eddie murmurs, maneuvering Buck so that he was laying down, Buck’s head resting in Eddie’s lap. Eddie runs his fingers comfortingly through his friend’s hair, the springy curls that looked so much like Chris’. “He knew. He knows.”
(Eddie isn’t really an expert on the afterlife, but he knows what he says to be fact.)
Eddie doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but Buck’s tears eventually stop, having completely soaked through Eddie’s dress pants. It doesn’t matter though; he won’t move until Buck does.
Buck turns his head so that he was looking up at Eddie, red-rimmed blue eyes on Eddie's. “Will you stay?”
Eddie doesn’t know if Buck is referring to staying the night, the week, or the month. But Eddie had already decided to stay permanently. He and Christopher had a much needed, emotional conversation right before he landed back home, back to L.A., since Texas was never that for Eddie. It was why his son, accompanied by Abuela, was coming back to L.A. that Thursday. They were moving back to where they belonged.
“Yeah, Buck. I’ll stay.”