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Summary
Eddie recaps this in his head a couple more times and he’s — jealous. Fuck, he’s jealous. That’s the word for it, the heat coiling deep in his gut, his whole body wound like a spring about to snap.
Jealousy.
Which is a bizarre emotion to feel about your best friend sleeping with someone. Jealousy implies ownership, implies wanting, implies — implies that 1) Eddie is not straight, and 2) he is possibly in love with his best friend and maybe possibly wants to suck said best friend’s dick about it.
Alright — okay. Eddie feels like he needs to sit with that for a second, give it the space it deserves.
Eddie wants to suck a dick attached to a person who is a man.
Not just any dick, either. Buck’s dick. His best friend.
Huh.
He expected that to feel weirder. He expected sirens, maybe, or a crisis, or at minimum a dramatic internal monologue about his Catholic upbringing and the sanctity of heterosexuality.
Instead, there’s nothing. The sirens are silent, the crisis doesn’t come, and Eddie wants to suck his best friend’s cock. Non-platonically.
Or,
Eddie moves back to LA, finds out Buck slept with Tommy, and reacts accordingly.