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Eddie was halfway down the produce aisle, cart squeaking faintly under the weight of too many apples and a very questionable number of cereal boxes, when he realized the space beside him was suddenly empty.
Buck was gone.
In the span of three seconds, Eddie’s brain managed to conjure every worst-case scenario imaginable —Buck kidnapped (improbable but possible), Buck running into a fire in the bakery section (absolutely possible), or Buck chatting up some overly friendly stranger by the avocados (definitely possible and, for reasons Eddie refused to name, completely unacceptable).
He spun around, ready to launch a search-and-rescue mission, when he saw him.
Buck stood at the end of the aisle, frozen in front of a giant cardboard box filled with pumpkins. His face carried this quiet, bittersweet smile —soft and aching in equal measure. It hit Eddie right in the chest, sharp and tender at once.
Abandoning the cart, Eddie walked over, bumping his shoulder gently against Buck’s.
“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” he asked, trying to sound light, though something in Buck’s expression made his voice gentler than usual.
Buck grimaced, eyes flicking to him for a second before turning back to the pumpkins.
“You know you can tell me anything,” Eddie said, softer now.
For a moment, Buck looked like he wanted to brush it off. He wrinkled his nose —adorably, infuriatingly— and Eddie could practically see the wheels turning in his head. But then Buck sighed, long and quiet, as if something inside him deflated.
“I’ve never carved a pumpkin,” he said.
Eddie blinked, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, his eyebrows shot up.
“Wait, what? Never? Not even in school?”
Buck shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he knew how ridiculous that sounded.
“Never ever in forever,” he muttered, and Eddie actually felt his knees weaken. Buck had said that —Buck— using the same phrase Christopher used when he was being dramatic about bedtime. Eddie wanted to both laugh and kiss him senseless.
“Mom said it was a waste of food,” Buck went on, voice small but steady. “So I never took one to school. And, well… my parents weren’t exactly big on traditions.”
Eddie leaned back against the box, trying to process the idea of someone growing up without pumpkin carving, of all things. Without messy hands, too-big knives, and the smell of roasted seeds filling the kitchen.
“Not even once?” Eddie asked again, incredulous. “Not even a lopsided bat or one of those cats that ends up looking like an alien?”
Buck laughed then —a short, genuine sound that made Eddie’s chest warm all the way up to his throat.
“Nope. Not even an alien cat,” Buck said, shaking his head. Then, softer: “I always thought they were cool, though. Just… the idea of doing it alone doesn’t really sound fun.”
And there it was —the quiet confession tucked inside something ordinary. Buck wasn’t just talking about pumpkins. He never was.
Eddie didn’t say anything for a moment. He just watched him —this man who could rush headfirst into a burning building without flinching, yet still looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable in front of a pile of pumpkins.
A store announcement crackled overhead: “Attention shoppers, the store will be closing in thirty minutes.”
The words jolted Eddie from his thoughts. He took a slow breath, pressing his lips together to stop the flood of angry, useless words about the Buckley parents that wanted to spill out. This wasn’t about them. This was about Buck, and Eddie wasn’t going to ruin it.
“That first time will come,” Eddie said finally, and when Buck looked up at him, eyes bright and just a little watery, Eddie felt something in his chest melt into pure, helpless affection.
“Yeah?” Buck asked, almost shy.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, his lips quirking. “But first —let’s finish the grocery shopping before they kick us out.”
Buck chuckled, moving ahead to rearrange the vegetables he’d haphazardly tossed into the cart earlier. Eddie followed, pretending to check the list on his phone while his thoughts spun out of control.
He might doubt a thousand things in his life —his choices, his timing, the terrifying way his heart tripped every time Buck smiled— but there were two things he knew for sure.
First, that the gleam in Buck’s eyes was going to be his downfall someday.
And second, that there was no universe, no version of reality, where Eddie Díaz was going to let Evan Buckley go one more Halloween without carving his very first pumpkin.
The following Saturday, the doorbell rang twice before the sound of a key turning in the lock followed.
Eddie didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Only one person had that kind of confidence about entering his house unannounced —as if he belonged there. Which, if Eddie was being honest, he kind of did.
Buck stepped inside with his usual whirlwind energy, a messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a giant plastic bag of assorted Halloween candies dangling from his other hand. He was grinning —the kind of grin that could probably power the entire Los Angeles grid— and for a moment, he just stood there in the doorway, framed by the morning light, watching Eddie like he was coming home.
And maybe, in a way, he was.
“You know I’d never say no when you invite me to stay,” Buck said, walking forward to set his bag down under the entryway table. He crouched to shove it safely out of sight —probably because last time Christopher had tripped over it and nearly faceplanted into the wall. “But I stayed yesterday, and I’m staying tomorrow too. Do you miss me that much?”
Eddie laughed, the kind that started low in his chest and rolled out warm and genuine. He had to bite his tongue to keep the I always miss you from slipping out, but judging by the way Buck’s eyes sparkled, maybe he didn’t need to say it.
“Never change, Buck,” Eddie said instead, giving his shoulder a friendly pat before stepping aside. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you in the backyard.”
Buck’s brows shot up, curiosity instantly lighting up his face. He followed Eddie down the hall like an overexcited golden retriever, practically vibrating with anticipation.
“Should I be nervous? You’re not about to make me do yard work, are you?”
Eddie just smirked.
“You’ll see.”
When Eddie slid open the back door, Buck stopped dead in his tracks. The patio was covered with pumpkins —small, large, round, misshapen— a glorious, orange chaos spread across the table. A toolbox filled with carving tools, spoons, and stencils sat at the center like a trophy.
And in one of the chairs, Christopher was already hard at work, tongue poking out in concentration as he tried to carve what looked like… a vampire? Or possibly a bat. A batpire.
Buck blinked, once, twice, his jaw slackening as his eyes swept over the scene. His breath hitched somewhere between awe and disbelief.
“Welcome,” Eddie said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, “to the Díaz Pumpkin Carving Workshop.” Then, with a tiny grin, he added, “Special Edition: Buck’s First Time.”
Buck’s head snapped toward him, his eyes wide.
“You didn’t —Eddie—” He broke off, laughing breathlessly. “You actually remembered that?”
Eddie shrugged like it was no big deal, but inside, his heart was doing backflips.
“Of course I did. You said you’d never carved one before. Couldn’t let another Halloween go by like that, could I?”
Buck stared at him, eyes suspiciously shiny, and Eddie suddenly had to look away because damn, that look could melt him faster than a pumpkin spice latte left out in the sun.
When Eddie’s hand found the small of Buck’s back —just a simple, steadying touch to guide him forward— it was supposed to be casual. But Buck froze, eyes darting down to the hand resting there, and his face flushed a deep shade of red that had nothing to do with the chilly October air.
“Is this… a date?” Buck asked, trying for playful but landing somewhere around nervous and hopeful.
Eddie raised a brow, letting the silence hang for a second before his mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile.
“Only if you’re nice to the pumpkin,” he murmured, voice dipping low and teasing, the kind of tone that made Buck’s brain short-circuit for a beat.
Buck chuckled, shaking his head, and took the oversized spoon Eddie handed him.
“Guess I’ll have to give it my best shot, then.”
They joined Christopher at the table, who immediately began explaining —in rapid, excited bursts— how his pumpkin was totally going to win “best vampire in the world.” Eddie bit his lip to stop from laughing as Buck nodded seriously, as if he were being briefed for an important mission.
“Well,” Buck said, setting his hands on the table, “I’m definitely not competing against you, buddy. You’ve got the fangs advantage.”
Christopher giggled, clearly delighted.
“You can make a ghost! Or a monster! Or a firefighter pumpkin!”
Buck glanced at Eddie, who was pretending to be busy opening the carving kit but was definitely not hiding his fond smile.
“I think I’ll make an easier pumpkin,” Buck decided, grinning. “Seems appropriate for my first time.”
Eddie watched him —watched how Buck leaned in close to help Christopher scoop out the guts, how his nose scrunched at the smell, how his laughter spilled out like sunlight every time Chris said something ridiculous.
And somewhere between the laughter, the mess, and the smell of pumpkin everywhere, Eddie’s chest tightened in that familiar, terrifying, beautiful way.
He was so completely, absurdly, hopelessly in love with this man. The kind of love that snuck up on him, took root, and now refused to let go. It was stupid, really —ridiculous, even. Falling for someone who carved pumpkins with his kid, who tracked mud into his house, who left his hoodie on Eddie’s chair and his toothbrush in Eddie’s bathroom. But there it was.
Yes, Eddie Díaz was a lost cause.
And watching Buck grin like that, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, Eddie couldn’t imagine wanting to be found.
The afternoon turned into beautiful chaos.
Laughter echoed across the backyard —bright, messy, and absolutely contagious. Pumpkin guts flew like confetti as Buck tried, and failed, to scoop out the insides of his pumpkin with far too much enthusiasm. He put his whole back into it, which, predictably, resulted in a wet splat! across the table.
Christopher gasped dramatically, then burst into giggles before grabbing a handful of pumpkin innards and tossing them right back at him.
“Hey! Unfair advantage!” Buck cried, shielding his face with his arm as more pumpkin strings came his way.
“You started it!” Christopher countered, aiming again.
Eddie didn’t even try to stop them. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips as his two favorite people in the world waged war with orange goo. Buck’s hair was an absolute disaster —spiky and dotted with bits of pulp— and Chris was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his chair.
“You two are cleaning this up,” Eddie warned, though his tone was soft, ruined entirely by the warmth in his voice.
Buck saluted him with the carving knife he was supposed to be using responsibly.
“Yes, sir!”
Two seconds later, he accidentally stabbed his pumpkin right between the eyes.
“Uh…” Buck stared at the mess. “He’s… extra expressive now?”
Chris gasped.
“You gave him a third eye!”
Buck, without missing a beat, grinned and added dramatically, “For heightened awareness. Very spiritual pumpkin.”
Eddie groaned into his hand.
“You two are impossible.”
But truth be told, his heart felt impossibly full.
By the time the sun began to set, the backyard was bathed in a soft orange glow that made everything look like it belonged in a postcard. The laughter had simmered down into that comfortable quiet that came after hours of joy, when everyone was tired in the best possible way.
The table was a battlefield of spoons, carving tools, and pumpkin guts, but the results were… well, surprisingly great.
Eddie’s pumpkin, a smug-looking cat, sat proudly at one end of the table, its grin a little crooked but charming. Next to it was Christopher’s masterpiece —a vampire pumpkin with tiny fang marks and exaggerated pointy ears that leaned just slightly to one side.
And then there was Buck’s creation: a three-eyed pumpkin with one giant eye and two tiny, mismatched ones, sporting a tender little smile that was so Buck it almost hurt to look at.
Around them, smaller pumpkins glowed faintly in the dimming light —simple designs with stars, moons, and the classic triangle eyes that Chris had insisted on doing ‘for tradition.’
“Okay,” Eddie said, rubbing his hands together. “Moment of truth. Time to light them up.”
“I’ll get the matches!” Christopher jumped up and bolted inside before either adult could move.
Eddie turned toward Buck, who was still staring at his pumpkin with the kind of awe reserved for fireworks or magic tricks. The way the sunset hit his face —painting his skin in gold and warmth— made Eddie’s breath catch in his throat.
“Thanks,” Buck said suddenly, his voice quiet but full, eyes still on the pumpkins. “For… all this. I didn’t know how much I needed it.”
Eddie’s chest ached with the weight of it. He reached out, fingers brushing against Buck’s wrist, a small, grounding touch that said everything he couldn’t.
Before he could answer, Christopher’s voice echoed from inside the house.
“Dad! I can’t find the matches!”
Eddie sighed, reluctantly pulling his hand back but pressing his fingers gently against Buck’s skin for one last second —his silent promise that the conversation wasn’t over.
He gave him a small, soft smile before heading toward the kitchen.
Behind him, Buck stayed by the table, still gazing at the pumpkins with that wonder-struck expression that made Eddie’s heart squeeze. And as Eddie disappeared inside, Buck whispered to himself, almost reverently.
“Best first time ever.”
If only he knew that somewhere between the laughter, the chaos, and the glow of the setting sun, Eddie Díaz had fallen even deeper in love with him —and that maybe, just maybe, he was already halfway home.
Finally, they arranged the pumpkins on the porch —Eddie’s cat-faced one sitting proudly on the left, Christopher’s dramatic vampire grinning on the right, and Buck’s three-eyed wonder right in the middle like a pumpkin guardian of the house.
The smaller ones were scattered all around the yard, glowing softly like tiny orange lanterns.
The night had settled quietly around them, the hum of the city distant and gentle. The front lawn smelled faintly of wax and pumpkin, and the porch light was off so the only illumination came from the flickering candles inside the pumpkins. Warm light danced across their faces, softening every sharp edge, turning the world gold and tender.
For a long moment, none of them said anything.
They just stood there —three silhouettes against the glowing patchwork of light and shadow. Christopher hummed happily, bouncing on his heels as he admired his handiwork. Buck looked like he was trying to memorize the entire scene —the glow, the laughter still echoing faintly from the afternoon, the way Eddie’s shoulder brushed against his.
Eddie’s heart swelled as he watched them.
Buck’s smile was radiant, pure joy, the kind that burned away every ghost of loneliness he used to carry. Chris looked like a tiny spark of sunshine, proud and content beside him.
And Eddie —Eddie just felt full.
Like the universe had handed him this moment on a silver platter and said don’t mess it up.
Buck turned his head slightly, catching him staring.
“What’s up?” Buck asked, tilting his head.
His hands rested gently on Christopher’s shoulders as Chris leaned forward, whispering something to one of the pumpkins as if it might answer.
Eddie blinked, caught.
“I’m just thinking,” he said, shrugging a little, voice softer than he intended.
“About what?”
“About how we should do this every year.” He stepped closer, his hand sliding down to rest against the small of Buck’s back, more confidently this time. It wasn’t just comfort now —it was a quiet declaration, a habit forming. “Our thing. Pumpkins, candy, Chris making sure we all get messy.”
Buck’s breath caught, a tiny, surprised sound. His eyes shone, the firelight reflecting in them, and Eddie could see the mix of disbelief and hope flickering there.
“Yeah?” Buck asked, clearing his throat, that nervous edge creeping in despite the smile pulling at his lips. “The pumpkins… or the date?”
It was teasing, sure —but it trembled with vulnerability, and Eddie heard every layer beneath it.
He smiled, wide and unguarded this time, and lifted his hand to Buck’s cheek. His thumb brushed against warm skin, the stubble rough under his fingers, and Buck leaned into the touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Both,” Eddie said simply.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Eddie leaned forward, closing the small space between them, and kissed him.
It wasn’t planned —it never was with Buck— but it felt inevitable.
The kiss was soft, a little clumsy from how close they were standing, but it carried everything Eddie hadn’t been able to say: thank you for being here, for staying, for letting me love you like this.
The world seemed to narrow to the warmth of Buck’s lips, the faint taste of sugar and pumpkin on his breath, the quiet sound he made when Eddie’s hand found the back of his neck.
When they finally pulled apart, Buck’s eyes were half-lidded and bright, his smile dazed and beautiful. Christopher, thankfully distracted by rearranging pumpkins, was too busy giving them names to notice.
Eddie exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against Buck’s for a second.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to.
Because somewhere between the laughter and the chaos, between the soft candlelight and the quiet hum of the Los Angeles night, Eddie Díaz had unknowingly granted Buck two wishes:
The first, to carve his very first pumpkin.
And the second, to finally be kissed under the stars by the man he loved.