Chapter Text
A sharp slam of a door somewhere down the hall jolted him awake. For a few seconds, Buck didn’t know where he was. The room was filled with bright morning light leaking around the edges of the curtains, dust floating lazily in the sunbeams. His body felt heavy, stiff, the kind of weight that came from exhaustion, not rest. He realized he was still sprawled across the bed on top of the blanket, wearing the exact same clothes he’d had on yesterday.
The door to his room creaked open.
“Do you want to come with me to see Dad?” Chris’s voice was steady but carried something fragile beneath it. “We could stop by my school first—I could show you around.”
It wasn’t just an offer. Buck could hear what it really was—an olive branch. A reaching out. Chris trying to stitch back a connection, to let him in. And God, it tore Buck apart.
There was a time when he’d known every corner of Chris’s life. He could rattle off the names of all his teachers without thinking, knew which kids were good influences and which ones weren’t, kept up with all the playground gossip like it was gospel. He’d been there, part of the parent circle, one of the ones who showed up.
Now… he couldn’t even remember the name of Chris’s high school. The distance between what they’d had and where they were now was a canyon, and Buck didn’t know if he had the strength to cross it.
But he had to try.
“Yeah,” Buck said softly, pushing himself upright, his voice rough from sleep. “I’d like that.” He paused, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Let me just grab a quick shower first.”
Chris nodded once, his face brightening, before slipping back out into the hallway.
Buck sat there for a moment, breathing deep, taking in the room again. The worn furniture. The faint smell of wood polish mixed with the lingering trace of Eddie that clung to the walls, the bed, the air itself.
He dragged both hands over his face. “Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Here we go.”
And with that, he pushed himself to his feet, ready to face whatever waited for him on the other side of the door.
__
By the time he came down the stairs, freshly showered but still bone-tired, Chris was waiting for him by the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, crutch in place.
“Ready?” Chris asked, like it was nothing, like they’d done this a thousand mornings before.
Buck hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, just watching him. It struck him again how tall Chris had gotten, how the boyish roundness in his face had sharpened into something older, more defined. But the hope in his eyes—that was still familiar. That was the same boy who used to cling to his hand in the middle of a crowd.
“Yeah,” Buck said finally, forcing a smile. “Show me your city, kid.”
They stepped out into the morning. The air was warm already, the kind of dry heat that promised the day would only get hotter. The streets were quiet, just a few cars rumbling by, neighbors watering their yards, the faint sound of a radio playing Spanish pop from an open window.
Chris kept a steady pace, his crutch tapping rhythmically against the sidewalk. “That corner store?” he pointed to a squat building with peeling paint. “Me and my friends go there after school. They sell those giant sodas for like a dollar.”
Buck chuckled. “A dollar? In L.A., you couldn’t get a bottle of water for that.”
Chris grinned. “Yeah, well. Texas.”
They walked a few more blocks, Chris narrating as he went. “That’s where Grandma drags me on Sundays.” He pointed to a small church, its white paint fresh, a bell tower rising above the roofline. “And over there’s the basketball courts. I don’t play, but my friends do. I mostly just hang out.”
Buck listened, nodding, his chest tightening with every casual detail. Once, he would’ve known all this already. Once, Chris would’ve texted him about soda runs and Sunday services and basketball games, and Buck would’ve been the one driving him there, sitting on the sidelines.
“Here we are,” Chris said after a while, stopping in front of a squat brick building with tall fences around it. His school.
They slipped inside, Chris leading him down wide hallways filled with rows of lockers, posters about prom, reminders about homework help. Students passed them, calling out to Chris, giving him high-fives, a few teasing him with jokes Buck didn’t understand.
“This is the science lab,” Chris explained, opening a door to a room that smelled faintly of chemicals and old textbooks. “We do experiments in here. I’m pretty good at it—better than math, anyway.”
Buck smiled faintly. “You used to hate science.”
Chris smirked. “Yeah, well. Things change.”
They moved on. The library was next, rows of worn paperbacks and computers humming quietly. “I don’t actually study here,” Chris admitted with a grin. “But it’s cool. Feels… safe, I guess.”
And then a classroom where he lingered longer than usual. “This is Mrs. Ramirez’s room. She’s my favorite teacher. She lets me sit by the window, so I don’t get stuck in the middle of everything.”
Buck swallowed hard. “She sounds… great.” He didn’t add what he was thinking: I should’ve known her name. I should’ve met her. I should’ve been here.
They wandered back outside, sunlight spilling hot and bright across the pavement. Chris walked ahead a little, his crutch clicking, his shoulders loose now that he was in his own element. For a second, Buck glimpsed the boy he used to know—the one who teased him relentlessly about his cooking, the one who used to fall asleep against his side during movie nights.
“You’re quiet,” Chris said suddenly, glancing back.
Buck forced a smile. “Just… proud of you, that’s all.”
Chris blushed faintly, muttering, “Thanks,” before looking away.
It should have been enough, that small exchange. But it wasn’t. It only highlighted how far away Buck had been, how much he’d missed.
They reached the bleachers near the sports field, and a group of teenagers were gathered there, laughing, shouting across the court. The moment they spotted Chris, they called his name, waving him over.
“Go on,” Buck said quietly, nodding toward them.
Chris hesitated, biting his lip. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Go be a teenager. I’ll be fine.”
Chris shifted his weight, clearly torn. But then one of his friends shouted something else, and Chris’s grin broke wide. He turned back to Buck, eyes bright. “I’ll catch you later?”
“Of course,” Buck said, even though his heart clenched.
Chris jogged off, his crutch swinging confidently, blending into the noise and laughter of the group like he belonged there—because he did.
And Buck was left standing alone, the silence pressing in.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, turned down the street, and started walking. The city moved around him—cars honking, dogs barking, music spilling from shopfronts—but all he could hear was the emptiness inside his chest.
Every step toward the hospital felt heavier than the last, dread curling tighter in his stomach. Chris had slipped so easily back into his world, surrounded by friends and routine. But Buck? He was headed straight for the place that held Eddie’s broken body, the place that reminded him of everything he’d lost.
He told himself he was doing the right thing. That this was why he was here.
But the truth was, with every block closer to the hospital, Buck felt more like an outsider. A man walking through a city that wasn’t his, toward a man he wasn’t sure he still had the right to love.
___
The hospital was beginning to feel unnervingly familiar. Buck walked the same sterile hallways he had the day before, the same fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, the same antiseptic smell clinging to the air and to his skin. His feet carried him forward on instinct, as if they remembered the path even when his mind wanted to turn back.
And then he was there—outside Eddie’s room again.
His heart pounded so hard he thought the sound might echo off the walls. Just like yesterday, the door wasn’t shut all the way. It stood slightly ajar, a thin sliver of space that offered him a glimpse inside. He hesitated, frozen, caught between the unbearable need to see Eddie and the fear of what he might find.
Finally, he leaned forward, peering through the gap.
What he saw stopped his breath.
Ann sat by Eddie’s bedside, her face streaked with tears, her hand clasped tightly around his. She wasn’t just holding him—she was clutching him like a lifeline, her thumb brushing across his knuckles as if the simple contact could tether him to this world.
Her lips moved, whispering words Buck couldn’t hear at first. He strained, every muscle in his body tightening, until the sound reached him in fragments.
And then—clear as glass—he saw it. Her mouth forming the words: I love you.
Buck’s stomach lurched. His body jerked back, stumbling into the hallway as though the words themselves had shoved him.
She loves him. Ann loves Eddie.
Of course she did. And why wouldn’t she? Eddie was… Eddie. Strong, steady, fiercely loyal, quietly kind. The kind of man people fell in love with without even realizing it.
And if Ann loved him, then what were the chances Eddie didn’t love her back?
Buck pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself, his chest heaving. The realization hit like a sledgehammer: he hadn’t come here to save anyone. He hadn’t come here to pick up where they’d left off. He’d come here to break his own heart.
What had he expected? That Eddie would open his eyes and smile just for him? That Chris would fall back into his arms like no time had passed? That the years of silence and distance would dissolve the second he stepped back into their lives?
He was just Buck.
Just the old partner. The old best friend. The man Eddie had left behind when he built a new life in Texas. The man who hadn’t been here when he was needed most.
The nausea rose hard and fast. His throat burned. He couldn’t breathe in that hallway, couldn’t stand under the weight of what he’d seen.
So he ran.
His legs carried him before his mind even caught up. Down the hall, past nurses who glanced at him curiously, past patients and visitors who blurred together into nothing. The only thing that mattered was getting out. Out of the suffocating building, out of the unbearable truth pressing in on him.
By the time he burst through the hospital doors, the sunlight was blinding, stabbing into his eyes. His lungs ached, his heart hammered, and still he kept moving, as though distance alone might dull the pain.
But it didn’t.
Every step away from that room only carved the truth deeper into him: Eddie might not need him anymore. Eddie might already belong to someone else.
And Buck had no idea how to live with that.
__
Buck had walked for what felt like hours.
The streets of El Paso blurred together—bright murals on cracked stucco walls, little taco stands with the smell of grilled carne asada spilling into the warm night air, families chatting in Spanish outside corner stores. He let his legs carry him aimlessly, each step dragging him further into the city and deeper into the storm inside his chest.
When he finally found himself back at the Díaz house, the sun had dipped low, painting everything in gold and shadows.
Inside, the atmosphere was deceptively normal. Chris sat at the dining table, a notebook open in front of him, pencil scratching. Ann was talking animatedly with Helena and Ramón, her laugh light and easy, as if she’d been part of the family forever. Sophia sat at the far end, her face lit by the glow of her phone screen, but her eyes flicked up almost instantly when Buck entered.
She was the only one who seemed to really notice him.
Buck didn’t care. He had made up his mind during his walk through the city streets: he didn’t belong here. Not really. He would stay quiet, keep his distance, do what he needed to for Chris until Eddie woke up. And then—he would go. Slip out of their lives again, no matter how much it killed him.
He sat down next to Sophia, staring at the table, letting his thoughts drown out the voices around him. He didn’t even notice when Chris left the room, didn’t feel the shift in the air until he looked up and realized Helena, Ramón, and Ann were all staring at him.
Ramón cleared his throat, his voice heavy, deliberate.
“Mr. Buckley.”
Buck straightened slightly, forcing himself to meet the man’s eyes.
“Please—just call me Buck,” he said quickly, almost desperately.
Ramón gave a short nod.
“Buck.” His tone softened only a fraction. “We’ve been discussing this… situation. And we’ve decided it would be best for Chris if you left tomorrow. We’ve managed fine without you these past years. We can manage in the future. Especially since Eddie is scheduled to wake up tomorrow, there is no reason to confuse things further with your presence here.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. For a second Buck thought maybe he had misheard.
They’re kicking me out.
Isn’t that what you wanted?
His ears roared. His mouth went dry.
“What?” His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
The scraping of a chair echoed sharply as Sophia shot to her feet.
“What? You can’t be serious!” Her voice shook with fury, her phone forgotten on the table.
“Sophia, please—” Buck began softly, but she was already going.
“No! Don’t you dare tell me to calm down.” Her voice rose, filling the room with fire. “Eddie chose Buck for Chris. Not you, not me, not anyone else. Eddie had four years to change his mind, and he didn’t. He left things the way they were for a reason. And Buck being here isn’t hurting anyone—it’s the only thing keeping Chris steady right now! You think Eddie would want Buck pushed out? You think that’s what he’d want for his son?”
Her words cracked like a whip, sharp enough to sting.
Helena’s mouth tightened, Ramón’s jaw clenched, Ann looked down at her hands. But Buck barely heard any of it.
Everything inside him was spinning, unraveling. The voices around him faded into a low hum, as if he were underwater. His thoughts raced too fast, tangled together until they didn’t make sense.
The people in front of him—this family, Eddie’s family—they felt like strangers. His chest ached, too tight to draw in air.
So Buck did the only thing he could: he shut down.
He pressed all of it—the humiliation, the fear, the longing, the sharp slice of rejection—down, down, down, forcing it into some deep place where he didn’t have to feel it. Until there was nothing left but a thick, gray numbness, like fog rolling over a city at night.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the wood grain of the table, his hands clenched in his lap. Minutes. Hours. It didn’t matter.
Eventually, almost without realizing it, Buck stood. His legs moved stiffly, carrying him down the hall, back to the one place he both longed for and dreaded.
Back to Eddie’s room.