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Taking out another tray full of chocolate cookies, Buck hums a sad song, not even reacting to the light knock he hears, thinking someone just accidentally hit his door or his imagination playing with him. But knocking happens again, still barely audible as if someone behind the door is unsure.
The tray clicks loudly, when touches the kitchen counter.
Buck goes to the door, blinking several times. when opens it because he wasn't expecting to see him behind the door. Never again after the last time. He was ready ti to be Maddie, who would try to drag him out of the house to try and make him buy Christmas stuff for his loft or give him one last chance to not take the Christmas shift from Ravi, so the young man can spend it with his family and introduce his partner to his parents.
He might even expected to see Hen and Karen dragging him to the tree hunting with kids, so he could help with the tree that Denny and Mara would choose.
He could imagine Eddie, bringing the beer for one of their last beer nights before his flight the next day.Or Bobby, who came with soup and his chicken with pineapples, and was ready to make an exchange of it for dessert and try to make Buck eat not just sugar he baked in a hard attempt to forget his ex-boyfriend.
It’s not one of them. It’s the last person he expected to knock at his door after three weeks of hope that he would do it.
When the fourth week was ending, Buck lost this hope.
“Tommy? Wh-what are you doing here?”
Tommy bites his lip with an even more unsure face than the one he had the first time he came to see him here. The time when he left Buck felt so giddy and happy and free. Just to leave him lost and heartbroken like never before.
“Can we talk? I need a favor.”
“Yeah-yeah of course,” Buck opens the door more and lets the man in, almost running to another part of the room, after closing the door, before he can fall to his knees, hugging Tommy’s legs, begging him not to leave him ever again.
Unfortunately, he is so pathetic.
“Do you want cookies? Tea? Beer?”
Buck tries to clean the counter quickly, when Tommy sits with a loud groan in pain. That’s when Buck looks at him, really looks, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the pale and slightly haggard face. Buck hates himself for being happy that he is not the only one clearly suffering after their breakup, but another part of him says it's wrong. The third one reminds that Tommy most likely does not look too good not because of him, but because of the problem that makes him wince and ask Buck's help or other things in life. He was the one who left Buck, so breaking up was the best way out for him. Buck can’t imagine leaving the person you love if you're happy.
“No, thank you. I’m here to ask you about a favor,” Tommy says, looking at him through his eyelashes, “you can say no, but I really need some special help from you.”
“It-it sounds like you need to hide a body or something else illegal, Tommy,” Buck says and loves how Tommy laughs. God, he missed this laugh.
“No,” Tommy shakes his head, but then frowns, “nothing like that. I need help with your special skills. You know,” Tommy moves his eyebrows, but Buck just looks at him blankly.
That’s when Tommy makes the gesture Buck loves to use, when he summons his powers and makes fire appear. Buck showed him. The only person except Eddie, who he showed. And Eddie only knows because man saw how Buck touched the fire and stopped it by absorbing all of its energy.
“Oh,” Buck nods, “you need to set something on fire?”
Tommy chuckles, “you’re adorable, when you’re confused. And no, not set something on fire. I need you to absorb the warmth and energy that fire left on me. Heal my burns. You said you can do it.”
Cerulean eyes look at him with softness and Buck wants to cry that Tommy here really just for a favor only he can do. He knew, but as it turned out big part of him was not listening to common sense.
What else did you expect? Him telling you he loves you? Wake up, Evan. Love happened to normal people, not defective parts who couldn’t even do that they were supposed too.
Buck fakes a smile and nods, “of course, Tommy,” can’t stop saying the name in the most soft voice possible. Tommy deserves all the softness.
“What should I do then?”
“Show me the burn.”
Tommy nods, turning his back to Buck and then taking his shirt off. He sits on the chair with the back to the balcony, when Buck moves closer to look at damage.
It doesn’t look too bad. First and second grade burns. Feels painful, but heals ok.
Buck lets himself look at how muscles move, remembering how a little bit over a month ago he was scratching it, because Tommy loves it when he watches his movies, almost purring like a cat. Now he doesn’t feel like he can even look. He does anyway. Takes every stolen moment of today, of being useful for Tommy, when he can imagine Tommy would love him for just a second more. Or even just put up with him for just an hour more.
“I know doctors said I should be ok in a week, but you know how I love to sleep on back. And I have some house work I want to end soon.”
Buck nods, even knowing Tommy can’t see him. He can’t let Tommy hear his sobs. He can’t let Tommy see him so pathetic.
Cleaning his throat, he answers, “you don’t have to explain it to me, Tommy. I’m happy you came here and not stayed in pain.”
“I wasn’t sure it’s fair of me,” Tommy say in a whisper and Buck hears it only because he comes closer, needing to end his torture faster. Help Tommy and then see him go again, screaming his pain in the shower before baking another loaf.
“It is fair of you. Just because you broke up with me, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or want you to be in pain, Tommy. Not when I can help.”
Tommy's shoulders move uncomfortably, but he stays silent. Buck wishes he would have the power to read minds sometimes. To know what Tommy feels right now. But maybe it’s for the best that he can't. At least like that he can pretend that Tommy has the same longing for him in his heart. Imagine that he’s not the only one to suffer right now. Play with his feelings, form them as he wish.
“I will touch you right now. Not on burns, but as near as possible to them. To absorb the energy of it,” Buck says, waiting for Tommy’s reaction, when man nods, he puts his hands on Tommy’s flanks, “relax. It’s not painful.”
That’s when he closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and thinking about fires he saw. Big and small, thinking about the fire of Tommy’s smile when the man is just waking up in the lazy morning already after ten. The fire of the grills that Tommy loves to make to get his steak just right. He imagines the fire they made during the hiking in the forest just a week before Tommy got up and left him, lonely, when Buck offered him forever.
When he opens his eyes, the skin under his hands is a natural color as it should be.
He wants to lie and say he needs a little bit more time, but he reminds himself he can’t keep it together for long and he would not break down in front of Tommy.
“A-all done,” he goes to the other side of the counter, smiling at Tommy. “I’ll pack you cookies and some other stuff to take with you. I, uh, got really into baking recently,” he turns his back to Tommy, feeling the wetness in his eyes.
Stupid how easy he always so close to crying.
“You don’t have to,” Tommy says in a quiet voice, “I’ll just leave.”
“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”
“What?”
Fuck, maybe he needs to sleep more. It should have stayed unsaid. He wanted just to scoff under his breath. Really. But his mouth runs faster than breath under some emotional circumstances.
And he can still take it back. Say he said nothing, but fuck it. He’s tired of keeping all his thoughts deep inside. There's not enough fridge space to repress them anymore.
Tommy never let him speak that night. He will now.
“Go,” Buck nods and even waves a hand. “L-leave. You’re really good at it.”
“Eva…Buck, let’s not make it harder than it already is,” Tommy says with a shake of his head.
Buck wants to punch him for his intonation.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” Buck growls through his teeth. “And stop talking to me like I’m a child or a passenger in our relationships. You-you decided to leave, twice, and the second time, I found out it was because you have an expiration date on us since the beginning, but you forgot to mention it to me before …”
Buck bites his lip, with a shake of his head. He won’t say it to the man. Not like it. Not ever. Tommy doesn’t need those words.
“I had exasperated date on us? Maybe. But someone should have been smarter and it wouldn’t be a guy one step out of the closet, who couldn’t even say to a woman that he’s on a date,” Tommy crosses his hands over his chest.
Buck mirrors the posture, feeling how his blood starts boiling inside from the anger.
“Said the man, who came out when he was thirty after he led woman on for two years, making her fall in love with him, before breaking her heart. And should I remind you that you came out to me with a kiss? How the fuck I can be sure you want actually be out to people?” Buck hums. “Eddie was hanging out with you for weeks and you never mentioned any male exes. Man was more surprised about you being gay than me being into men. But yeah, sorry that I’m still not so easy to tell people that I’m bi when I own them nothing! Not that information, not that I’m on a date!”
“Do you hear yourself? You tell me you’re not ready to come out to people, yet you asked me to move in? How the fuck you see it can be possible?”
His blood boils more. He feels too hot, but his shirt is already not on him, so it’s not like he can do something.
“Buck? Buck stop!”
Buck won’t stop. He needs Tommy to listen to him.
“Because it’s out fucking private life! I love you and I wanted you to see it. I wanted a future. I wanted to be confident with you! To learn how to be fucking confident in my skin and sexuality. How to fucking show it everyday. How all the time be ready to say ‘yeah, hey, that guy is my boyfriend, isn’t it awesome?’.”
He hears only statistics and his bubbling in veins blood.
“Maybe I-I jumped too early with moving it together? Yeah, maybe. But I wanted you forever. And you just fucking walked away with cute words and breaking my heart even worse with you condescending mood of a 'older gay man who protects poor baby queer from the mistake'. And,” Buck shakes his head, smelling something burning, but he doesn’t think much of it. “ A-and you want to hear the worst thing? I can’t even be angry with you really. Because yeah, why would you stay with a man who sees future together, but fucking never ending work in progress? You need someone normal. Not someone step away from being not just broken, but destroyed toy with supernatural powers.”
“Evan, please stop,” Tommy begs. But no, he needs to hear Buck out.
Buck swallows with pain in his ribs that burns his insides. “Someone, who will be as good as you. Even when he’s broken. Because you’re a fucking broken, Tommy,” Buck laughs with no humor, feeling his tears coming, “but you still so fucking perfect. A-and it hurts, because I-I can’t be….”
“EVAN, PLEASE STOP HURTING YOURSELF!”
The words and the way Tommy screams his begging to him, stop Buck. He opens his eyes — he can’t remember closing them — to see fire on his hands. Hands that hug his body that is so dark red and brown he feels sick. It'd definitely his skin burning and insides cooking.
But it's not the worst. No. The worst is that he lost control of himself. Lost control of his powers. With Tommy. Near him.
He could have hurt Tommy.
Buck runs to his shower, blocking the door and opening the water to try and cool down himself.
A second later he hears Tommy trying to open the door.
“Evan! Evan, let me in,” the man screams and still knocks on the door.
“G-g-go aw-away, Tommy,” He barely screams through the water that makes him moan in his hand from the pain of too cold water on the third and fourth degree burns. “G-go away, Tommy. It-it’s too dangerous for you to stay near me.”
He falls on his knees barely away, when he hears “it’s not true.”
His kneels feel weak too so he tires to lay down. It sounds too loud for slow fall.
“EVAN? EVAN, ARE YOU OK?”
He doesn’t answer. Not what he can. But maybe it will make the man go away.
“FUCK IT. I’M GOING IN.”
Or not.
Next thing Buck knows his door is broken down and he feels the hands on him.
“Look at me. C’mon, baby, c’mon Evan, try to concentrate on my eyes,” Tommy gets his face between his hands and holds it near his.
“G-g-g-go h-home, T-Tom-my,” he struggles to talk and move, with pain in every part of him. He even tries to move away, to try and create the distance between them. He can’t be dangerous to Tommy. Never. And now he is the danger.
“No, no way I’m leaving you alone,” Tommy says, assessing his wounds, “why are you not healed? You should be healed already!” Tommy’s voice is frantic, as if he cares about Buck.
Buck knows better. And he can’t let Tommy stay. Not when he is not sure if his control will slip again. Even if standing would be impossible for him, he can’t risk anything. He can’t risk Tommy.
“G-go home … p-ple…ase… I’m a d-da…nger,” he stutters again. “J-just go h-home.”
“Have you not heard me? I’m not leaving you,” Tommy rummages through his drawers, “where’s your first aid kit? I’m packing all of it till you’re healed.”
"No, go home T," he coughs in pain the bile and metal taste burning his throat.
Soft hands touch his face. Cerulean eyes bully him to surrender.
"Evan, you could never hurt me. And even if you could, I’d walk through flames and fires to reach you. So, please, let me pack it. You can't know for sure it won't get infected."
Being as weak as he is for Tommy — and needing just a little bit of more of him — Buck nods.
"Under the sink. And,uh, another one in the top bathroom. Same place."
"Let's hope, we'll just need one."
Tommy gets to the sink, taking all the packs of bandages and band aids he has in this room.
"All right, Evan. Now show me your torso."
"Buy, uh, buy the guy dinner first."
"Just after you'll buy me the beer."
The smirk he loves so much brings the sparkle of a smile to his face too.
"I-it's a date then."
Tommy only silently looks at his torso with the swallow that's too loud in the silent bathroom.
"It'll hurt like hell."
"Not my first time."
He bites down the towel that Tommy used after cleaning his hands.
The first touch to the rough skin makes him roar in pain that burns like his walking through the building of fire. It's not getting easier, not even when Tommy stops.
All he remembers next is him on his couch with the sunlight burning his eyes
"I've … how long?"
"Fifteen minutes or so," Tommy says from where he unstick a little bit of already dark red bandage. "Why are you not healing? You said the longest was three minutes! It was more than half an hour already."
Buck shrugs. He doesn't know.
"M-maybe I'm too sick or burns are too bad? You can go home, Tommy. You did what you wanted. More than."
"And leaving you alone with burns all over your torso? While your healing malfunctioning? In hell. I'm staying. And ordering more bandages just in case."
Sigh that goes through his room like an explosion loud, only makes Tommy smack his leg a little.
"Get fucked, Buckley. You're never as stubborn as me."
"Yeah, no, I'm not a fucking bull."
Tommy flips him.
"Sushi, pizza, Thai?"
"Sushi and pizza. Maybe energy from food would help."
"I'll add Thai then too. And I'm stealing all the cookies over there."
Tommy shouts from the loft, where he left to check the bandages Buck guesses.
"Be my guest."
They're all you anyway.
Figuring he should get comfortable for a long waiting, he shouts too, "b-bring the remote from the kitchen, please. We're watching new season of British Bake Off."
"Was the show the reason for baking hyperfixition?" his ex asks, giving him the remote and putting new packs of bandages near them.
"More like in reverse."
He doesn't make it from more than five minutes of the show, but stirs awake, when hears door closes. Smells of food flaying around the house.
Tommy seems to take over the kitchen to prepare their plates and dishes.
"Feel better?"
He shrugs, checking under the bandage. It doesn't seem as bad as before, but not as good as it should be so long after the burn.
"Don't put it back. I'll do new one."
Buck figures Tommy won't stop playing nurse till his next shift will come, and let's him play the hero and give him pity.
Soft touches to his body make hiss from pain, but try hard to hide the shiver it send over him. Tommy's touches would never not be welcomed and pleasurable to him.
"It does look better," Tommy says using new pack of bandage to cover him. "Might even disappear till the morning."
"Food should help."
"Food always helps with a lot of problems."
"Food is love," he says. It is truth for him, "and good energy. It gets you the needed feeling of being alive."
Tommy smiles at him.
"Can you sit or you'll eat on the couch?"
"Couch. I, uh, don't feel like getting up."
"Then don't," Tommy gives him the tray with the food and utensils.
Buck takes it with small smile, that doesn't even feel like something real or cute, but all he has.
He's ready to cry seeing food that needs cutting already made into small bites. Buck for the first time in long while feels hungry.
Even several bites of food wake his body enough that the worst of pain substituted. But only when he's staying mostly still. Just a fraction out of the small allowed trajectory of his movements and it burns again anew.
Fucking great. He won't be left alone to lick away his heart pain — or bake … oh, yeah, baking is out of a question now.
Shit. He has nothing now, not even the coping mechanism to deal with emotions.
Just his Buck luck.
And those eyes on him? They are boiling his blood again.
Turn away! Don't you feel any pity to me? Can't you leave the guy alone? Just turn away and go. Go!
Stupid lightning should have made him control people, not fire.
Eventually the silence — except the TV, not that Buck can't say who's the winner already — and the goosebumps from that gaze get to be too much.
His tired, and really, what is left for him to lose between them. Better burn all the bridges. Pun intended.
"C-can you stop stare at me like a creep? I'm not dying, it wasn't your fault, you, uh, have no responsibilities to be here. Just go home," he says it all on one breath, but then his voice breaks. "Please."
Tommy bites his lip, looks at the door then back at him.
"For a person, who hates me leaving, you're adamant to send me home."
"I'm giving you permission to go this time. It'd be easier for both. If, uh, I've learned something in my life is if people wanna leave you, it's better to give them. Either way you will break your heart only more and they'll hate you only worse for trying to cling to them."
His eyes find the way back to TV. As he expected that woman with cute glasses won. As deserved.
"Oh, so, I'm just like others in your life?"
"Can you once listen to what I'm saying not what you think I'm saying? P-please?" Buck turns the TV, tries to stand up to get some ground under him in that conversation. His burned ribs do not think so, though. "I said I though you were different that night, but you turned and proofed me wrong. That's why, yes, I-I treat you the same. Way wiser than with,uh, Abby or Taylor. Do not try to wait for something that won't happen or move inevitable away for some months," he looks into beautiful blue eyes he hopes is his forever. Unfortunately, they are merely the yesterday.
He wanted them to be the entire new book of his life. They've choose one small chapter.
"You'll leave anyway. And I'm tired enough that it'll be as painful as that night, if not worse. And having you stay here for long? It's like the band-aid that stuck to hard and leaving it for longer makes your be scared of pain more. Harder," Buck sighs, "I don't wanna keep the band-aid, Tommy."
Buck closes his eyes and silence around makes him feel like the world do not exist at all. Not feel anything around. Turn the pain off for a bit.
Wish to open his eyes for it to be just the nightmare wrapped in the sweet dream of seeing Tommy again.
The couch creaks. Buck's breath gets caught somewhere deep in his lungs.
Go, please, go, make it easier for us.
The warm fingers take off his bandage again.
"Time to change it."
Buck feels him work over it, not trying to open the eyes.
"You're barely healed," soft voice says, "just a fraction that I've lost the idea to rush you to ER."
"I w-won't be able to explain h-how my 3rd degree burns are away in two hours or less."
"And yet it was almost three and nothing."
Buck doesn't answer. B ut Tommy seems to like change subjects tonight.
"Why baking? I though you're more of cooking guy?"
Buck shrugs, then thinks fuck it. Maybe having Tommy see how his hidden ideas about them, how him seeing them as just a fling, casual, but treat Buck as far away from it as possible, hurt him. It hurt people to paly like that.
Maybe Tommy won't be that cruel to others.
"The night you broke up with me, I, uh, couldn't sleep, I turned off the TV and there was some night baking show where the woman was making banana bread. I tried and it was the first time in hours i was thinking about soemthign that is not you or how I want to call you and beg you to come back. That I'll do better, learn to be better boyfriend more. Learn how to be best not gay, but not yet set to best label guy for a gay man. That I'll do it all you want. Everything," Buck opens his eyes, "I felt not that pathetic and sad, so I ordered kitchen aid, bough fucking half of LA of any baking stuff I might need, and started. Cause while I bake, I won't call, and if I stop? I don't … didn't want you to feel any way about that wreck of man."
Buck feels the tears stream down his face, but no strength to stop it physically or mentally.
"I gave you the freedom from it."
The thumb on his cheek push the tears away. Soft voice whisper, "I was fighting the urge to text or call you for weeks, Evan. Was driving around your building sometimes, hoping to catch you or be brave enough to get up. Ask you to talk. Maybe explain myself. Listen to you."
Buck shakes his head, "Please, don't … I-I can't go through it again. A-and what about your heart? Won't I break it ? Are you not scared anymore."
Tommy carefully grabs his chin, moving his head and Buck knows what he asks from him.
"No, cause it's already broken without you anyway."
And Tommy kisses him. Just like that first time. Only with taste of Buck's tears this time.
Tommy's hand, moves to his curls, brushing it, "what are you doing on Saturday?"
Buck looks at the watch on the wall, "it is Saturday," he dares to hope and smile, "I'm free."
"Good," Tommy smiles back.
The better warm, warm of hope — and healing?— take over him. He dares to look under the bandage.
Finally the skin is back to normal color.
"Does that mean we can go and sleep?" Tommy asks.
"God, I hope so."