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“He said I’d be okay,” Buck says, looking out at the waves. “And I’m not.”
Eddie is quiet beside him, obviously waiting for him to go on, but Buck doesn’t know how to. Doesn’t understand where to go from here. It’s cold out here, which isn’t something Buck ever thought he’d think when he moved to Los Angeles. Pennsylvania was cold. California is the sun in comparison. Still, Buck is chilled all the way down to his bones. He wants to touch Eddie; wants to feel the warmth that’s radiating off of him, but that’s not what they’re doing right now. Buck fidgets with his fingers, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “How aren’t you okay exactly?” he asks, voice steady.
“I’m just…” He waves a hand in the air. “I’m just not,” he settles on. “You know, I wanted to be. I really tried. But nothing is helping.” He thinks about what it was like to sit on that floor and know Bobby was going to die. He thinks about what it was like to know he couldn’t do anything about it. “Don’t think I ever really got off that floor.”
Eddie hums. “That sounds rough,” he says, voice strained. Buck can tell he’s holding himself back, and of course he is. They haven’t talked like this before. This was the only way for Eddie to get Buck to open up—and why did it have to be? Why couldn’t Buck just talk to him? “Do you feel stuck there?” he asks. He’s looking down at the clipboard he brought with him. “On that floor?” he clarifies a moment later.
“I feel stuck here,” Buck confesses, digging his toes into the sand. “I haven’t wanted to leave L.A. this much in years. I don’t run anymore. That’s not who I am. But I…” He sucks in a breath. “I’m tired of being here. Of being reminded.”
“We could leave,” Eddie says, and then immediately backtracks. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I meant that you could leave for a while if that’s what you need. Perhaps take a vacation. With a friend.”
“Yeah?” Buck responds, grinning. “What friend?”
He taps his pen against the clipboard. “Don’t you have a friend named Eddie?”
He rolls his eyes. “You know I have a friend named Eddie. We talk about him all the time.”
Eddie goes quiet, gripping the edges of his clipboard. “I didn’t know you talked about me in therapy,” he whispers. “But, uh, yes,” he says, louder this time. “I think you should bring Eddie.”
Buck smiles softly at the concept. But— “I can’t,” he admits quietly. “I just—I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” Eddie asks.
“Because I—” His breath hitches. “Because I can’t go anywhere with Eddie. I don’t know how to be normal.”
Eddie taps the pen against the clipboard harder, like he’s trying to break it. “And what exactly do you view as normal?”
“Like…like normal friends,” Buck tries. “Not like how I always act. I’m too…attached, I think. More than I should be.”
“Do you think Eddie cares about this?” he questions.
“He doesn’t say anything, but I know he does,” Buck confirms, sniffing. “We’re close, but we—we shouldn’t be that close.”
Eddie’s hands shake with the force of how hard he’s holding on to the clipboard. He hasn’t even written anything down. He doesn’t need to; Eddie remembers everything he says. It's just for show. His jaw is clenched tight. “Oh,” he says after a moment. “Well, if you’d allow me to put my two cents in, I disagree that there’s a specific way to be normal friends. Unless you think your relationship is harming you, then I believe that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
“I think it is,” he admits, throat tight with the effort not to cry. “Harming me, I mean.” He looks back out at the water, and hears a sharp intake of breath, but he continues. “When he went to El Paso, it felt…like I was gonna die. It was bad. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”
“He likely felt the same way,” Eddie says sharply, an edge to his voice now. “When he left and couldn’t see you. It was likely one of the hardest things he ever did.”
“I couldn’t sleep in that house without him,” Buck whispers, tearing up. “And without Chris—his son. It felt like my family was gone.”
“That’s because they were,” he emphasizes. “Your family was gone. And it’s not a bad thing to miss them. Why do you think it was?”
“He’s—He’s my best friend. But that’s all he is. Just my best friend. I shouldn’t feel like this.”
“Do you think this is related to Bobby?” he questions.
“This isn’t about Bobby,” Buck says, attempting to shut him down.
“I think it is,” Eddie argues, setting the clipboard down on the sand. “Perhaps when Bobby died you didn’t feel that you could grieve because he was just your boss, not your father.”
He wipes his eyes. “And when Eddie left…”
“He was just your friend, not your…” Eddie clears his throat. “Your partner,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” Buck forces out, tears spilling over his cheeks. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re really smart, Dr. Diaz.”
Eddie chuckles softly. “Thank you.”
“My best friend’s last name is Diaz.”
“Yeah?” Eddie whispers. “You seem to really love this Eddie.”
“Way more than I should.”
“I disagree. I think it’s beautiful. And I think…” He takes a deep breath. “I think he probably loves you that much, too.”
Buck sniffs. “Probably?”
“Definitely,” Eddie confirms. “He loves you. I promise.”
Buck laughs wetly. “I don’t think you can say that. You don’t know that.”
“Buck, can we—” He softly gasps in a breath. “Can we please just talk?”
“Eddie,” Buck replies, putting his face in his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“I love you,” Eddie says.
“I know.”
“Then why don’t you want to love me?” he questions. “Why don’t you—I’m—I’m your family. I’m your fucking partner. There’s nothing wrong with loving me.”
“You love me because I’m your friend,” Buck says. “I love you because there’s—something wrong with me. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t be normal around you.”
“I don’t even want you to,” Eddie says, throwing his hands in the air. “I never said I did.”
“I do,” Buck says. “I want to be normal. I can’t—We can’t be more, Eddie. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to not fuck this up. And I’m—I’m not okay right now. I’d be a bad partner.”
“You’re already my partner,” Eddie whispers. “And you do a damn good job at it. Why are you being so mean to yourself?”
“I’m not okay,” Buck emphasizes.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I do!” he exclaims, voice cracking. “For you. For Chris. For everyone. I have to be okay. And I’m not. So I failed.” He sobs, tears clustering on his eyelashes. “I fucking failed, Eddie. That’s all he asked me to do. I was just supposed to take care of everyone. And I couldn’t. I can’t.”
He shakes his head softly. “You don’t have to. We can be in this together.”
Buck stands up, stumbling backwards. “I think our time is up.”
Eddie stands up, following after him. “Buck. Don’t shut me out right now.”
“I told you I don’t know how to do this.”
“Buck, I can’t be your therapist,” Eddie says. “I don’t…know how. But I can be your partner, if you’d just fucking let me.”
“I can’t,” Buck says quietly. “I can’t, Eds. I can’t do this right now. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be again.”
Eddie tears up himself. “I love you,” he says softly.
“Let me drop you off at home,” Buck responds. “Chris is probably waiting for you.”
“He wants to see you. He misses you.”
“Eddie.”
“I miss you. I miss when you talked to me.”
“Eddie,” he whispers. “I can’t do this right now.”
Eddie takes a shuddering breath. He stares at him for a long moment. “...Okay,” he says eventually. “Then let’s go home.”
Buck begins walking to the truck. “I’ll drop you off.”
“No, Buck,” he says sharply. “My home. Our home.”
He inhales, chest aching. “That’s not my—”
“Don’t argue with me right now, Buck,” Eddie says, voice wobbling. “Did you ever think that maybe I need you? Regardless if you’re okay or not?”
Buck swallows. “I can’t,” he repeats.
“Home. Now,” he demands, walking past him. “Our home.”
Buck sighs, wiping his eyes again, and makes his way to the truck. He drives them to Eddie’s house in silence, crying the entire way home. Eddie reaches to set a hand on his shoulder at one point, then pulls it back into his lap.
They eat dinner with Chris, and watch a movie together, and then when it’s time to go to sleep, Eddie refuses to let him sleep on the couch. They lie side-by-side, not touching, staring at the ceiling.
And Buck isn’t okay. Not in the slightest. But then Eddie whispers, “Eventually, you could be. Eventually, you will be,” and for now, that’s enough.