Chapter Text
Evan sat in the back of his father’s car while his mother and father argued in the front seat. It had been weeks since Maddie left Pennsylvania to be with her boyfriend Doug. Evan didn’t really like Doug; there was just something about him that unsettled Evan.
Evan put the CD into his Discman player and slipped the headphones over his ears, hoping the noise would drown out the arguing from his parents.
He looked out the window and saw a deer jump across a field of grass. Evan’s thoughts began to wander. How did this deer’s family have it? Were its mother and father still alive? Was only one of them? Had one abandoned the other? Did the deer have any contact with its family? Did it have siblings, or had they also left?
Evan turned the volume on his player up to the max, but he could still hear his parents fighting. He never really listened to the details – it was always the same: Maddie leaving with Doug to Boston, arguments about groceries, or trivial disputes over whether Philip or Margrete had done something right or wrong.
Evan sank deeper into the music, letting the verses carry him away. Pictures formed in his mind. He had always been an imaginative kid, dreaming up secret places where it was just him and some animals, or him and Maddie, and sometimes him and friends. Evan didn’t have many friends, so when he could create some by himself inside his own secret garden – where everyone was kind to each other – he held on tight to those moments.
He snapped back to reality when he felt the car park in the driveway. He jumped out and ran straight up to his room, locking the door for the evening – or until someone called for him, which they never did. His parents never looked at him anymore. He couldn’t remember when it started, but around the age of four or five, they stopped noticing him, stopped caring as much as they used to. Evan never understood why because all he ever did was try to get their attention. He threw himself down from a tree once, crashed his bike on purpose, and even tried to climb onto the roof – anything to make them see him.
It never worked. After Maddie left, they completely shut him out. He was just a kid, and he never understood what he had done wrong.
Evan locked his bedroom door, took off his headphones, and turned off the Discman, placing it carefully on its shelf. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Slowly, he traced the lines in the wood with his fingers and closed his eyes.
“Dear God, I want to be sick. I don’t want to hurt anymore. Please don’t let me be someone they try to get rid of. I want to be someone they love.”
Evan wasn’t religious – no one in his family really was – but, as people say, in desperate times you pray to Jesus too.
He closed his eyes tighter, holding onto the hope that tomorrow would be better.
Spoiler: It wasn’t.
The years passed. Evan moved out and around a lot – across North America and even parts of South America. He had tried working as a farmer, as a construction worker, and even tried to join the SEALs. That wasn’t his thing, though, because they wanted to mold people into machines–people who could easily switch their emotions on and off– and that wasn’t Evan.
Evan, or Buck as he liked to go by, had finally settled down in LA. He joined the fire academy and graduated at the top of his class with excellent recommendations. It was also during the academy that he started going by Buck, because it was easier to separate him from the other two Evans in his class. The name stuck with him.
Buck was placed at the 118 as a probie, and after completing his probationary year, they hired him as a full-time firefighter. Buck loved his team. He had Chim – Howie, or Howard Han – who was like a brother to him. It’s hard not to become close with someone when you’ve saved their life from a rebar. Henrietta Wilson was like a big sister to Buck – always teasing, but also always there when he needed her. Buck was really grateful for Hen, and he knew she felt the same way about him.
Captain Bobby, or Robert Nash, and Buck had a bit of a rough start. Buck was still stuck in his old ways, sneaking off on shifts to hook up with girls or boys. Sometimes he didn’t think twice before acting. Bobby took Buck under his wing, and Buck knew– after a hard shift when he and Hen had found Bobby alone in his apartment…that maybe, just maybe, Buck had taken Bobby under his wing too, in some ways.
That hot summer day wasn’t just scorching because of the weather – it was the man standing in the changing room in front of Buck. Sure, the weather was blazing, but that man was absolutely breathtaking.
Eddie Diaz.
Eddie was everything. Beyond his good looks and the confidence he carried on his very first day – which, honestly, he shouldn’t have had – Eddie wasn’t supposed to just walk into the station and own the room. Buck didn’t like him at first. Or maybe, he didn’t want to like him.
But there was something about Eddie– his easy smile, the way he moved with such surety – that made Buck’s heart race more than he expected. That quiet, unexpected crush that started to grow even before they spoke more than a few words.
By the end of their next shift, Buck and Eddie were practically inseparable. Who knew that all it took for a friendship – and maybe something more – to blossom was pulling a grenade out of someone’s leg and then grabbing food together afterward?
-
Years had passed since that day Eddie joined the 118, and so much had happened. First, there was a tsunami that Buck and Eddie’s son, Christopher, had been trapped in. This happened after Buck had been blown up in a firetruck and almost lost his leg. Buck was on sick leave when the tsunami hit the pier. He was babysitting Christopher that day, and Chris had fallen off the truck and was taken away by the waves. Buck searched day and night for the boy until finally, a woman dropped him off at the hospital. But that look – the look in Eddie’s eyes when Buck told him he had lost their son– that’s a look that still haunts Buck in his sleep.
After the tsunami, Buck filed a lawsuit against the LAFD and Bobby because he wasn’t allowed back on the field. It became a huge issue; everybody was mad at everybody. Eddie almost killed a guy in an illegal street fight. Then Dispatch got taken hostage. Maddie and everyone were terrified. It turned out Josh’s ex-date had planned the whole hostage situation, but Dispatch managed to turn them against each other, and in the end, everyone got out safely.
Maddie had come to LA after finally leaving Doug, following years of a bad marriage. Then Maddie started dating Chimney – until Doug came after them both.
Over the years, Buck had seen Eddie get shot and almost die. The year before that, Eddie had almost been buried alive in a well. Buck had fallen to his knees and started digging with his hands. It was after that– and after Eddie had been shot – that Eddie revealed to Buck that if he didn’t make it one day, Buck was Christopher’s legal guardian.
-
More years passed. Eddie had moved to El Paso and then back to LA. Bobby almost died in a lab accident. Maddie and Chim were married and had two kids, Jee and Robert. Hen and Karen had adopted Mara, so now Karen, Hen, Denny, and Mara were one big family.
Buck had woken up that morning for a 24-hour shift with the full team – Bobby, Hen, Ravi, Chim, and Eddie. Buck loved the 24s, and the ones with the full crew? He loved those a little extra. They were his family, his pride and joy, and he cherished every minute spent with his found family.
When the bell rang, everyone jumped into the firetrucks. The engine rolled out to the given address with Buck, Eddie, and Ravi in the back, while Chim and Hen followed behind in the ambulance. Everything felt good. They had this. Buck trusted Eddie and Ravi completely to have his back.
It all happened fast. Too fast. Buck was so caught up in the chaos, he didn’t even have time to think.
The call was one of the worst the 118 had seen in a long time – total chaos. Smoke and blood were everywhere, the thick press of summer heat hanging over shards of shattered glass scattered across the pavement. Buck moved like a machine, driven by instinct and muscle memory. He ran on the last dregs of adrenaline and that deep, bone-deep need to help. That was who Buck was. Who he had to be.
He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.
He pulled a young girl out of a crushed minivan, her screams – high-pitched and panicked – buried in his shoulder. Her voice would echo in his head for the rest of the day. He let her cry there. He held her.
Later, he helped Eddie stabilize a man bleeding out in the median. Buck saw the man’s legs – burned, badly. He knew what that meant. But he didn’t stop. His own legs were aching. His arms trembled. But still – he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
Not until it was over.
Two hours into the chaos on the edge of LA, the entire 118 had worked themselves to the bone. They’d saved everyone. They’d even called in backup from Stations 317 and 117. But in the end, no lives were lost – and that was what mattered most.
Buck walked over toward Eddie and Chim, who were packing up the last of the gear. He moved slowly across the asphalt. Sirens still wailed faintly in the background, but they were starting to fade.
As he approached, Bobby joined them, talking about something – lasagna, maybe. Buck turned his head to listen to what his captain was saying.
That’s when the asphalt shifted under his feet.
The sunlight fractured in his vision.
His knees buckled.
And then Buck collapsed – slowly, like a tree falling – and everything went black.
-
Buck woke up a bit later on the ground, Eddie’s voice thundering in his ears. He felt Bobby’s hand on his chest and Hen checking his pulse.
“Buck! – Hey – come on. Look at me.”
His eyes fluttered open, and he was greeted by everyone staring down at him.
“I’m okay,” Buck whispered, and then came the automatic lie: “I’m fine.”
“Buck, you passed out,” Bobby said.
“Yeah,” Buck rasped, “I must’ve skipped breakfast this morning. Dumb mistake on my part.”
Hen frowned, clearly not convinced. “You’re pale as hell, Buck.”
Buck bit his tongue and forced a grin. “I’m alright. Just hungry, I guess.”
Eddie hovered close, his face tight with fear – a look Buck knew all too well.
“You scared the hell out of us.”
Buck knew. He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he already knew something wasn’t right. He thought he’d known for weeks – but with the schedule, the long hours – he’d pushed it aside.
The fatigue.
The bruises that came too easily and never seemed to fade.
The dizziness.
He’d brushed it all off. Everything was fine. He just needed some food, maybe a little sleep.
He was going to go home. He was going to eat. He was going to pretend none of this meant anything.
He couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Bobby had insisted– sent him to the hospital “just to be sure,” brushing it off with a quiet seriousness that made it clear it wasn’t optional. “Worst case scenario,” Bobby had said, “pull the firefighter card.” So Buck did. It got him through triage faster, but it didn’t make the wait feel any less agonizing.
Now he was sitting in the sterile exam room under fluorescent lights that buzzed too loud and felt too cold. Machines beeped softly around him, a quiet reminder that he was being watched, measured, monitored. The thin paper gown clung uncomfortably to his damp skin. Every time he shifted, it rustled like it was trying to betray him– offering up his vulnerability to the room.
He sat there, staring at the blank wall, trying to convince himself this was all routine.
When the doctor finally entered, clipboard in hand, Buck’s mind jumped– of all things - to Clipboard Buck. That ridiculous phase when he was on leave and tried to “help” around the station with a clipboard and too much time. Hen had called it “a weapon in the wrong hands.” He almost smiled at the memory.
Almost.
But then the doctor spoke.
“Evan,” he said gently, “we ran some bloodwork… and then we ran more. Your white blood cell count is extremely elevated. We wanted to be sure, so we ran further panels.”
Buck felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine.
He didn’t feel great, no, but he’d fainted. That was it. People faint. He’d skipped breakfast…just once. He worked out, ate well. He was strong. Healthy.
Wasn’t he?
His heart began to pound like it was trying to escape his chest, each beat echoing louder than the last.
“Evan,” the doctor continued, voice low but steady, “you have leukemia.”
Buck stared at him. His brain couldn’t – or wouldn’t – process the words. They didn’t sound real. They sounded like lines from someone else’s story. Not his.
Leukemia.
The room tipped slightly. His mouth went dry.
“No– no, that… that can’t be right,” Buck said, standing abruptly, the paper gown crinkling in protest. “I fainted once. Once. I didn’t eat breakfast today. That’s all. That doesn’t mean I have cancer…right?”
His voice cracked on the last word.
The doctor’s expression didn’t change. Calm. Kind. But resolute.
Buck’s hands started to shake. His knees locked. There was a pressure in his chest now, like someone was sitting on him.
And then the second weight hit.
Daniel.
The name punched through his thoughts like lightning.
The brother he’d never known. The brother he’d heard whispered about growing up. The one who died before Buck was born. The one he was never meant to replace –but always felt he did. Leukemia. It had taken Daniel too.
“No,” Buck whispered. “No. This can’t be happening.”
“I know this is a shock,” the doctor said gently. “But it’s treatable. There are options, and if we begin discussing a treatment plan now –”
“I don’t want a treatment plan!” Buck snapped, voice trembling. “I want you to tell me this was a mistake. That it’s nothing. I want to go home and eat something and come back and have you say the numbers were wrong.”
The tears hit fast, blurring his vision. He blinked hard, furious at them. Not here. Not now.
The doctor took a small step forward, slow and careful, like Buck might shatter.
“Do you want me to call someone? You shouldn’t be alone –”
But Buck was already reaching for his clothes. Pulling off the gown with fumbling, panicked hands. He didn’t care how exposed he was. He had to get out. He couldn’t breathe.
The room was too white. Too quiet. Too final.
“I have to go,” Buck muttered, grabbing his phone, his hoodie—anything.
He didn’t wait for permission. He just walked out.
The walls felt like they were closing in as he stumbled into the hallway. His legs were unsteady. The air was too thin.
Leukemia.
The word chased him out of the building.
Buck returned home to his loft in a haze. The keys shook in his hand as he unlocked the door, stepping inside like a man walking into someone else’s life. Everything looked the same – the familiar clutter, the half-finished coffee mug on the counter, the faint scent of laundry detergent – but he wasn’t the same.
He really shouldn’t have driven. His hands were still trembling from the news. His head throbbed with a thousand thoughts, none of which he could seem to hold onto for more than a second. Everything was slipping through his fingers.
He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. The silence was deafening.
How was he supposed to do this?
How was he supposed to say it?
How do you tell your friends – the people you call family – that your body is slowly turning against you? That your future is now measured in scans and statistics instead of years? That you might not be there next Christmas? Or next week?
How much time did he even have?
He didn’t know. The doctor had said something about tests and treatment plans, but it all felt like a blur. Words had floated past him like they were underwater. Chemotherapy. Survival rate. Risk factors. None of it felt real. Nothing did.
Buck sat on the edge of the couch and buried his face in his hands.
He shouldn’t be alone right now. He knew that. But who was he supposed to call?
Maddie? She’d already been through hell and back. He didn’t want to drag her into his own storm.
Chim? Hen? Bobby? They had families, lives, people to protect and come home to.
And Eddie… God, Eddie. The thought of calling Eddie made his chest twist and ache.
Families.
Family.
The word echoed inside him like a cruel joke.
How the hell was he supposed to tell Christopher that he had cancer? How do you explain to a kid that someone else he loves might leave? That his Buck – his safe place – wasn’t safe anymore?
And Jee-Yun… she was so small. Would she even remember him when she got older? Would she remember how he always brought her those stupid animal socks or how he made her giggle just by pulling silly faces?
Would any of them remember him?
He looked up at the ceiling, suddenly overwhelmed by a deep and unfamiliar feeling: helplessness. He’d survived explosions, collapsed buildings, raging infernos. But this?
He couldn't outrun this.
Something inside him cracked, something buried deep. And before he could stop himself, he locked his hands together and looked up.
He didn’t pray. Not really. Not since he was a kid. But tonight… it didn’t feel like he had anything else left.
His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
“Dear God… I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want to hurt. So if this is how it’s gonna go, please just—get it over with. Quick.”
His throat tightened as he swallowed back tears.
“I don’t want to die scared. And I don’t want to die alone. I want to be loved… not someone you’re trying to erase.”
He let out a broken laugh. It sounded like it belonged to someone else.
Was this the answer to that prayer he made years ago? That silent, desperate wish when he was just a kid lying in bed after another sleepless night? He couldn’t remember the exact words. Something like "Just make it stop hurting." Something like "Please, take me if you have to."
Maybe God had finally listened. Maybe this was it.
The guilt hit him like a wave. He didn’t want to blame that scared little boy – but what if this was his fault? What if that moment of weakness had finally echoed back through time?
He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.
He knew he had to start telling people. But saying it out loud made it real. Telling them meant accepting it – meant watching the people he loved break in front of him.
And the thing that scared him most wasn’t dying.
It was leaving them.
He pictured Maddie’s eyes when she’d find out. Chim’s disbelief. Hen’s heartbreak. Bobby’s silence. Eddie’s hands trembling.
And Chris… God, Chris.
Buck shook his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. The loft felt colder than usual, like the walls were pulling away from him. Like even the space he called home was bracing for his absence.
He didn’t want to be forgotten.
He didn’t want to leave them with a hole.
But deep down, part of him already felt like he was fading.
Buck couldn’t accept it.
So the very next morning, he was back at the firehouse –smiling, cracking jokes with B-Shift, washing the rigs, folding laundry like it was just any other day. His hands moved out of habit, muscle memory overriding the static in his chest. If he acted normal enough, maybe it would all feel normal again.
Maybe the nightmare would slip away.
The sun filtered through the garage windows, casting warm streaks of light across the bay floor. It looked like a good day. It felt like a good day. So good, in fact, that for one fleeting second… he almost forgot he had been diagnosed with cancer the day before.
Almost.
Whenever someone casually asked about the hospital or his last shift – why he had fainted, what the tests had said – Buck gave the same rehearsed answer, with the same easy grin:
"I'm fine. Really. I’m fine."
He’d gotten good at saying it. Sharp, clean, convincing. The lie settled in his chest like an old friend.
-
Later, in the kitchen, Chim walked up behind him, stirring his coffee and making small talk. There was something in Chim's tone that told Buck this wasn't just casual catching up – it was careful, intentional. Chim was checking in.
"How you feelin'? You eat anything today?" Chim asked, peering at him sideways, like he could read through the deflection if Buck gave him a second too long of silence.
Buck didn’t flinch. He smiled again – easy, automatic.
"Skipped breakfast," he shrugged.
It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t eaten. Couldn’t eat. Not after yesterday. How could he even think about food when his entire body felt like it was working against him – like every breath might be stolen by the ticking clock he now carried inside?
"Dude, you gotta eat something," Chim said with a light chuckle, tossing a granola bar across the counter toward him. "This isn’t college, Buckley."
Buck caught it but didn’t move to open it. He stared at the wrapper like it might explode in his hands. He tried to respond, tried to say something witty, something light.
“Noted,” he finally muttered, his voice barely steady. His throat clenched as he spoke – he was almost sure Chim could hear the tremor. He looked down at the bar again, and for a moment, the kitchen around him faded away, replaced by the sterile white walls of the oncology wing. The doctor's voice echoing. Leukemia.
He swallowed hard.
Hen passed by, casting him a quiet glance that lingered longer than usual. She didn’t say anything – but she didn’t have to. Hen could always see more than most. Something in her eyes said she knew. Or at least, that she suspected.
Still, she didn’t push.
Buck was grateful. And scared.
Then Eddie walked in.
Buck didn’t hear his steps – he just felt him. The way he always did. Eddie moved through the space with that quiet kind of gravity that Buck always noticed, even when he didn’t want to. Buck looked up, met Eddie’s eyes, and that was it.
That was the part that hurt the most.
Because Eddie was looking at him like he was trying to read a map he’d lost. Like Buck was a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together the way it used to.
And Buck, for one long second, let himself feel it. Let himself remember every reason he was in love with his best friend.
His straight best friend.
He looked away too quickly. The grief was pressing against the back of his throat now, and if he wasn’t careful, it would come pouring out.
So he smiled. Too wide. Too bright. And started talking too fast about meaningless things – the truck needing a new tire, a weird call from last week, how tired he was from not sleeping great. It was enough. Enough to make them nod. Enough to make them believe.
It wasn’t a total lie.
It had been a long week.
Just not in the way they thought.
-
Later that shift, Buck stood outside Bobby’s office door for nearly five full minutes before he knocked.
Bobby looked up from his desk, concern already etched into his features. He must’ve known something was off – of course he did. Bobby always knew when one of his people was drifting.
“I was wondering,” Buck started, “if I could take a couple days off.”
There was a pause.
Bobby didn’t ask why. He didn’t pry.
He just got up from behind the desk, crossed the room, and wrapped Buck in a hug. The kind of hug that said, You don’t have to tell me for me to be here. The kind of hug Buck didn’t realize he needed until he was already in it.
And Bobby let him go.
Buck walked out of the office with permission to disappear for a few days. And as he stepped out into the hallway, granola bar still in his jacket pocket, uneaten, he felt the weight of what was coming settle in deeper.
He couldn’t keep pretending forever.
He knew he had to do it.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
The silence in his apartment had become unbearable – louder than the city outside his windows, louder than the thoughts pounding inside his head. It had been a few days since the diagnosis. Just a few days… but everything felt different. Off-kilter. Slowed down and yet racing all at once.
Buck was going to tell someone.
He had to.
And he knew it had to be Maddie.
It was always Maddie first.
It had always been them…against everything.
The air inside his apartment felt colder than usual. Not from the temperature, but from something deeper, heavier. The weight of his diagnosis pressed against his chest like a second gravity, pulling at his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He was no stranger to pain, but this? This was something else entirely.
He stared at his phone. His hand hovered over the screen, frozen. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. He couldn’t tell anymore. Eventually, with trembling fingers, he typed:
“Can you come over? Please.”
No explanation. No details. Just those words.
Maddie didn’t ask why. She didn’t need to.
She just came
-
Maddie walked up the stairs to Buck’s apartment, her thoughts swirling. Maybe this was about Eddie. Maybe –finally –her little brother had gotten out of his own way and told Eddie how he felt. Maybe this was the big secret he couldn’t say over the phone. Her heart was hopeful, even excited.
But when Buck opened the door…
All of that disappeared.
He looked wrecked.
Pale. Hollow. His eyes – usually full of some glimmer of hope, even on the worst days – looked glassy and distant. There was something fragile about the way he stood. Like a gust of wind could knock him down.
Maddie’s smile faded instantly. Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“Buck? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Buck opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried again.
“I’m so sorry, Maddie,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
His eyes met hers. And she saw it. All of it. The fear. The weight. The truth he had been holding back from everyone – especially her.
“I’ve been lying,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “To everyone. To you.”
Maddie stepped inside, slowly removing her jacket, trying to brace herself – but deep down, she already knew. Not the details, but the shape of the storm.
“I didn’t faint because I skipped breakfast that day,” Buck said, his voice cracking. “I went to the hospital… they ran some tests… then more tests…”
Tears welled in Maddie’s eyes. She could feel a sob rising in her chest like a scream underwater.
Buck looked at her, trembling now, barely able to get the words out.
“I have leukemia.”
Silence.
Everything froze.
Maddie blinked once. Then again. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. She was locked in place, as if the world had stopped spinning just for a moment.
“No…” she whispered, but it came out broken, like glass underfoot.
Then, suddenly, she was moving – rushing across the room, throwing her arms around him with the force of someone who needed to feel him alive in her arms. To make sure he was still there.
“No – no – no,” she cried, her voice ragged with disbelief. “You can’t. This can’t be happening.”
Buck sobbed into her shoulder. His whole body shook, and Maddie held him tighter.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, completely undone. “Maddie, I don’t know what to do…”
“I got you,” Maddie whispered, over and over. “I got you. I got you, brother.”
Buck clung to her like he was drowning. His breath hitched again, and then he said it – so quiet, so afraid.
“Maddie… I don’t want to die. Please.”
She couldn’t stop the tears this time. They came fast, hot, unstoppable. Her legs felt weak, but she stayed standing. She had to.
“You’re not going to die,” she said, firm now. A fire rising in her chest. “You hear me? We’re going to fight this. Together. Every single step.”
Buck nodded, but his face still held that same haunted expression.
Then he pulled away, just slightly. His voice was small again.
“Please… don’t tell anyone. Not yet. I’m not ready.”
Maddie paused. Her heart ached to scream it from the rooftops if it meant someone could fix it. But she looked at him – really looked – and saw how close he was to falling apart.
So she nodded.
It looked like it killed her to do it, but she did.
“When you’re ready,” she said softly. “Not a second before.”
They sat down on the couch, still holding each other. Nothing else mattered. Not the time. Not the future. Just this moment. Just them.
Just a big sister holding her little brother as the world started to come undone.
Buck knew this moment was coming.
He had told Maddie.
But this… this was different.
Because now he had to tell his parents.
Not the Buckleys.
Not the people who gave him their name but never truly gave him love.
He had to tell his real parents.
Bobby and Athena.
It was just after sunset when Buck pulled up to their house. The porch light was on, glowing soft and golden like always – like a lighthouse waiting to guide him home. He sat in his car for several long minutes, staring at the steering wheel, willing himself to move. To knock. To say the words.
His hand trembled as he raised it to the door. The knock sounded too loud in the still air.
Bobby answered.
And the moment their eyes met, Buck felt something twist in his chest. Because Bobby knew. He didn’t know what it was yet, but the second he saw Buck’s face, the light in his eyes dimmed. His expression shifted from warmth to concern, and Buck saw the fear start to form.
“Buck,” Bobby said, his voice soft, cautious. “What’s wrong?”
Buck hesitated. He opened his mouth, closed it. For a split second, he almost lied. He could say he’d had a nightmare. That the thunder had reminded him of something. That he just needed to see them. That he was fine.
But he wasn’t.
“I’ve been lying,” Buck said finally, voice cracking. “To everyone. Including you.”
Bobby stepped out of the doorway, onto the porch. “What are you talking about?”
Buck’s throat burned. His eyes stung. “I didn’t faint because I forgot to eat. That wasn’t what happened.”
Athena appeared behind Bobby, sensing something was wrong just by the tension in the air. She looked between the two of them…and saw the panic building in Buck’s eyes.
And just like that, it was like all the walls Buck had built up shattered.
“I’m so sorry,” Buck whispered, then broke into a sob – ragged and uncontrollable. “I’m so fucking sorry, Bobby…”
His knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.
Bobby caught him, gripping his arms, steadying him. “Buck, talk to me. Please. What’s going on?”
“I have leukemia,” Buck said. The words left his mouth and seemed to echo in the air around them. “I have cancer.”
Athena gasped softly behind Bobby. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were already full of tears.
Bobby froze.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His face went pale, his jaw tight, and his hands started to shake. He looked at Buck like the world had just tilted sideways.
“No…” Bobby whispered, his voice hoarse. “No, Buck. You don’t. Please… this has to be a mistake.”
“I wish it was,” Buck said, his voice barely audible. “God, Bobby, I wish it was.”
Athena moved first. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Buck, holding him close, her hand gently stroking the back of his head like she was trying to soothe a scared child. Bobby followed, arms wrapping around both of them. They held him tight – like they could protect him from what was coming. Like maybe if they loved him hard enough, none of this would be real.
But it was.
“I was scared,” Buck choked out. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to see that look on your face…”
He couldn’t stop crying.
Bobby pulled back just enough to look at him, his own eyes red and brimming with tears. “You don’t ever have to be afraid to come to us, Buck. Not ever. You’re ours. No matter what.”
Athena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re here – for every part. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the brutal. We’re not going anywhere.”
And for a long time, they just stood there on the porch, wrapped in each other. The found family that had weathered every storm.
And even though Buck still felt like the ground was crumbling beneath his feet, for the first time in days, he let himself believe – just a little – that maybe he wouldn’t have to face this alone.
Hen and Karen were next on Buck’s list.
He had gone from Athena and Bobby’s house to theirs, and by now his heart felt like it had been scraped raw. Telling the people who loved him that he was dying – maybe, possibly dying – was like peeling back the layers of himself until nothing was left but fear.
The porch light was still on when Buck arrived. It cast a soft, golden glow over the front steps, flickering faintly like a heartbeat. Buck stood at the edge of it, just outside the light, gathering himself. His fists were clenched in the pockets of his jacket, and he kept swallowing like it might push the panic back down.
He could see the shadow of someone move inside.
Hen.
She noticed him through the window, and her heart dropped immediately. She opened the door without hesitation, already knowing something was wrong…deeply wrong.
The look on Buck’s face told her everything. Pale. Exhausted. Eyes shining with something he couldn’t contain.
“Buck?” she said softly, stepping outside. “What’s going on?”
Buck didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, frozen. Looking at her like a little boy who didn’t know how to say he was scared.
Karen appeared behind Hen, towel in hand, clearly in the middle of doing something before she was called over. But when she saw Buck’s face, she stopped cold.
Hen stepped closer, searching his expression. “Tell us. Please.”
Buck opened his mouth. He tried to breathe. His lips moved but no sound came out. For a second, he thought he might break entirely.
Then he forced the words out.
“I have cancer,” he said, his voice almost inaudible. “Leukemia.”
Karen gasped quietly, a hand flying to her mouth. Hen’s eyes welled up instantly, even as she moved forward on instinct, pulling him into a hug.
“Come inside,” Karen whispered, reaching out as well. “Please.”
They ushered Buck through the door like he was something fragile – something precious that might shatter with one wrong move. The house was warm. Familiar. Filled with the soft smell of lavender and homecooked food. But it couldn’t touch the chill that clung to him.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Buck’s legs gave a little. He didn’t fall, but his knees buckled enough for Hen to tighten her grip around him.
She held him like a mother would a child. Strong. Steady. Protective.
“Oh, Buck,” Hen breathed. “Why didn’t you come to us?”
He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I didn’t want you to have to carry me.”
Hen pulled back just enough to cradle his face in both hands. “You carried us,” she said, her voice trembling. “Every time. Every storm. Every fire. When things got dark, you brought the light back. You don’t think we want to do that for you now?”
His lower lip quivered. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His throat was too tight with grief.
Karen stepped beside them and wrapped her arms around both of them. “You are not a burden, Buck. Not now. Not ever.”
His breath hitched, and suddenly the tears came–hard and fast. He collapsed into their arms, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through him.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”
Hen kissed his forehead, her own tears now streaming down her face. “Then we’ll face it together. No matter what. You are not alone in this.”
Karen nodded and held onto him tighter. “Whatever you need – however long this takes– we’re here. We’ve got you.”
Buck couldn’t speak, so he just nodded against Hen’s shoulder, clinging to her like a lifeline.
They stayed like that – wrapped in each other, in grief and love and fear – for a long time.
And for the first time since the diagnosis, Buck let himself fall apart completely. Because here, in this house, with these women who had seen him through fire and heartbreak—he knew he was safe.
Buck knew this was breaking Maddie. Watching her try to keep it together for him while quietly falling apart – it was unbearable. And he knew he couldn’t keep putting this off. He owed it to the people who loved him.
So he made the call. He asked Chimney to meet him at the park, said it was important, didn’t offer much more. Just enough for Chim to know Buck needed him.
The sun was setting low when Buck arrived. The air was thick and warm, the quiet hum of the city in the distance, but the space between him and Chim felt heavy. Charged.
Buck stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to ground himself, trying not to panic. Every second he waited made the words harder to find.
Chim spotted him and walked over, smiling. “Alright, Buckley, what’s with the cloak and dagger routine?” he said, teasing – trying to make it light.
Buck’s lips twitched into a sad, fleeting smile. “Chim…” he said, voice barely steady, “I have cancer.”
Just like that, the world seemed to stop.
Chim froze, confusion flickering across his face like he didn’t quite understand what he’d just heard.
“What?”
Buck looked at him, eyes filled with a kind of quiet, unbearable pain. “Leukemia.”
For a moment, Chim didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His brain scrambled to rewrite what he'd just heard into something else. A joke. A misunderstanding. Anything but that.
But Buck didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh. He just stood there, shoulders sagging, like he’d been holding the weight of it for too long.
Chim opened his mouth – then closed it again. He looked around, like maybe the right words would be hiding somewhere in the trees, in the quiet breeze, in the fading light.
They weren’t.
“This isn’t– ” Chim’s voice cracked. “No. No, Buck. That can’t be right.”
Buck swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve been trying for days. I’ve been lying to everyone.”
He stepped forward and pulled Chim into a hug—tight, desperate.
“I’m sorry,” Buck whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know how to say it out loud.”
Chim held him, arms wrapping around his best friend like he could somehow keep him from slipping away. And then he felt it – Buck’s body trembling in his arms, quiet sobs he was trying too hard to hold in.
“Hey, hey… you don’t have to be sorry, okay?” Chim’s voice shook as he spoke into Buck’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Buck just nodded, unable to speak. His hands clung to the back of Chim’s hoodie like he was anchoring himself to something real, something that wouldn’t disappear.
“Just promise me you’ll fight,” Chim said, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll let us help.”
Buck looked at him through watery eyes and gave a small, broken nod. “I promise.”
Chim pressed a hand to the back of Buck’s neck and rested their foreheads together for a second.
“We’ve got you, Buckley. You’re not going anywhere. Not without a fight.”
After meeting with Chim in the park, Buck knew it was time. No more stalling. No more hiding behind half-smiles and lies. He had already waited too long – time he wasn’t sure he had.
He called Eddie and asked if he could come over. Said it had been too long since they’d just hung out, just the two of them. Eddie agreed, easy as always, and now Buck was standing in front of his door, heart pounding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape.
His palms were sweating. His knees felt weak.
You’ve run into burning buildings, Buck. You can do this, he told himself.
The door opened, and there he was – Eddie. He looked like home. He was wearing that soft t-shirt Buck loved, and he smelled like the expensive cologne Buck had given him last Christmas. The same scent that used to make Buck’s stomach flutter – now it only made it ache.
“Hey,” Eddie smiled, that easy, warm smile that had always made Buck feel like everything might just be okay.
“Hey,” Buck whispered back, forcing a small smile.
“Come in,” Eddie said, stepping aside.
Buck shrugged off his jacket and walked into the living room. Christopher was on the floor, playing with his action figures, his little voice filling the space with joy. Buck's chest tightened. He hadn’t even started treatment yet, but he already felt like a ghost in this house. Like someone who was about to become a memory.
He melted at the sight of Chris. God, how was he supposed to say goodbye to this?
Eddie closed the door and turned to him. “You okay, Buck?”
Buck looked up into those deep brown eyes, the ones that always seemed to see more than he ever said out loud. His throat tightened. It was now or never.
“I don’t know how much time I have,” Buck said, voice cracking, “and I need to say this before I lose the chance.”
Eddie’s brow furrowed, his face falling into concern. “Buck… what’s going on?”
Buck opened his mouth – but the words caught in his throat.
So he stepped forward. “I’m in love with you,” he whispered. “And I need you to know that before–”
But before he could finish, Eddie closed the distance between them and kissed him. It was soft. It was desperate. It was everything.
Buck kissed him back for a moment – just a moment – and in that single breath, he felt everything he had ever wanted and everything he could never have.
He pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” Buck choked out, voice barely audible. “I can’t.”
He grabbed his jacket and turned for the door, panic surging in his chest. He didn’t make it far before Eddie called after him.
“Buck, wait…please. Just talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Buck said, still not turning around.
Eddie’s voice broke. “What do you mean? Why are you running?”
Buck finally turned back. His eyes were filled with tears, his whole body trembling. “Because I can’t love you while I’m dying.”
Eddie froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “What…?”
Buck’s voice was barely a whisper. “I have leukemia.”
And just like that, Eddie’s entire world shattered.
“No.” His voice cracked as the tears started to fall. “No, Buck. No– please.”
Buck could barely look at him. His chest heaved. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve been lying to everyone. I thought if I could pretend, maybe it wouldn’t be real. But it is. It’s real.”
Eddie crossed the space between them in two strides, cupping Buck’s face with trembling hands. “We’ll fight it. Okay? Whatever it takes – we’ll fight it. You and me. You’re not doing this alone.”
“Eddie…”
“I won’t let you leave me,” Eddie said, voice shaking with grief. “I won’t let you leave Christopher.”
Buck broke then. The dam snapped. He crumbled into Eddie’s arms, sobbing like a man who had run out of hope.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Buck cried. “I don’t want to leave him. But I don’t know if it’s my choice.”
Eddie held him tighter, pressing his forehead against Buck’s. “Then let me choose with you. Let me stay. Let me love you. Let me fight for you.”
And Buck just wept – for the life he wanted, the love he finally admitted, and the war he never asked to fight.