Chapter Text
Buck doesn’t mean to stop. That’s the thing. He gets in the Jeep because he’s restless. Then because he’s bored. Then because he’s lonely.
Which is ridiculous, really because Buck isn’t lonely.
He has Bobby and Athena. Maddie and Chim. Hen and Karen. Christopher. Eddie. Especially Eddie.
But loneliness isn’t always about being alone. Sometimes it’s about feeling like you’re taking up too much space and Buck has spent his entire life trying not to do that.
So he drives. The radio stays off. The windows stay down. The California sun hangs low in the sky, painting everything gold.
Buck drives until the city gives way to open land. Until buildings become fields. Until he sees it.
A tree. Just one. Standing alone on a low hill. No other trees for miles. Just this one stubborn thing reaching toward the sun.
Buck snorts, “Well, you look lonely.”
The tree says nothing. Which, honestly, is kind of refreshing.
Buck parks, climbs the hill, and drops down beneath its branches. The shade is cool. Comfortable. Like the tree was expecting him.
“Hey.”
The tree remains silent.
“Cool. Great conversation.” Buck leans his head back against the trunk. The bark is rough against his shoulders. Solid. Steady.
The tree has probably been here forever. Storms. Heatwaves. Bad years. Good years. Still standing.
Buck likes that, “So…” he says.
The tree waits.
“I had a weird day.”
A breeze stirs the leaves overhead.
Buck takes that as permission and… maybe that’s how it starts. Because nobody can accuse him of being needy if he’s talking to a tree.
It’s a tree. Trees don’t count.
So Buck tells it things, little things at first.
About Bobby forcing everyone to do inventory. About Ravi accidentally starting a debate over cereal. About Chim cheating at poker.
Then bigger things. The things he doesn’t usually say out loud.
“I think people get tired of me.” The words slip out before he can stop them.
The leaves rustle.
Buck stares at the horizon, “Not like…all the time.”
A pause.
“But sometimes.” His throat feels tight, “Eddie has Chris. Maddie has Chim. Bobby has Athena.”
Everybody belongs to somebody. Everybody has a person. And Buck… Buck has a lot of people, which somehow feels different.
He picks at a blade of grass, “I know that’s stupid.”
The tree doesn’t answer.
“Like objectively, I know I have people.” His laugh sounds hollow, “…but sometimes it feels like everybody’s first choice is someone else.”
The breeze catches the branches overhead. Shadows dance across the ground.
Buck closes his eyes, “Maybe that’s selfish.”
Maybe that’s the part he never says. The part that sounds too needy. Too much.
Too Buck.
“I just…” His voice breaks, “I want to be someone’s favorite.”
Silence. The tree doesn’t tell him he’s ridiculous. Doesn’t tell him to be grateful. Doesn’t remind him of all the people who love him.
It just stands there. Listening.
Buck wipes at his eyes, “Anyway.” He laughs wetly, “You’re probably the loneliest tree I’ve ever seen.”
The trunk presses solidly against his back. Alone on a hill. No forest. No grove. Just one tree reaching toward the sun.
Maybe it isn’t lonely at all. Maybe it’s resting. Maybe it’s exactly where it wants to be.
Buck tilts his face upward.
The afternoon light filters through the leaves.
Warm. Golden. Gentle.
“You’re doing a great job, buddy.”
A car door slams.
Buck freezes, “…huh.”
Another slam. Fast footsteps. Angry footsteps. Very familiar angry footsteps.
Buck slowly turns.
Halfway down the hill, Eddie is marching toward him. Phone clutched in one hand. Expression thunderous.
His hair is windswept. His cheeks are flushed. And he looks absolutely furious.
Buck blinks, “Eddie?”
“Evan Buckley!”
Uh oh.
That’s the government name.
Eddie points at him, “What the hell?”
Buck glances at the tree, “Okay, so first of all, rude.”
“What?”
Buck gestures, “We were having a conversation.”
Eddie stops dead. Looks at Buck. Looks at the tree. Looks back at Buck, “What?”
Buck sighs, “You interrupted.”
For one horrifying second, Eddie just stares. Then he drags both hands down his face, “Oh my God.”
Buck’s stomach drops. “Eddie—”
“I have called you fourteen times.”
“…Oh.”
“Fourteen.”
Buck checks his phone. Nineteen missed calls. Twenty-seven texts. Three voicemails, “…Oops.”
“Evan.”
Uh oh.
Government name again.
Eddie points between Buck and the tree.
“Were you seriously out here talking to a tree while I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere?”
Buck opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, “Maybe.”
Eddie makes a strangled sound.
And Buck suddenly realizes something. Eddie’s eyes are red. Not angry red. Scared red. Like he’d been terrified. Like he’d dropped everything and driven out here the second he got Buck’s location.
Like Buck is… important.
The realization hits harder than it should.
Eddie takes a shaky breath, “You weren’t answering.”
Buck’s chest aches, because beneath the frustration, beneath the panic, beneath the anger—
Eddie sounds hurt.
Like Buck disappearing scared him. Like losing Buck is something he worries about. Buck glances at the lonely tree. Then back at Eddie.
And Buck doesn’t mean to cry. One second he’s looking at Eddie. The next his vision blurs. And then it’s over.
The dam breaks. A tear slips down his cheek. Then another. Then another.
“Evan.”
Buck laughs miserably, “Yeah, that’s usually how people react when I start talking.”
“Don’t.” The warning is softer this time.
Buck shrugs. Looks away, “I know it sounds stupid.”
And that’s the problem. He always knows how it sounds. Too sensitive. Too needy. Too much. The words have lived in his chest for so long they feel permanent.
Eddie stares at him for a second, then quietly drops down beside him beneath the tree.
Shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that Buck can feel the warmth of him. Neither of them say anything for a minute.
The leaves rustle overhead. The sun filters through the branches. Gold and green and soft.
Eventually Buck wipes at his face, “I think people get tired of me.”
Eddie’s jaw tightens.
Buck keeps talking anyway because apparently once he starts, he can’t stop, “I know everybody loves me.” The words come out broken, “I know that.” He swallows, “…but I think they need breaks from me.”
Eddie doesn’t interrupt.
So Buck keeps going, “I talk too much.” A shaky laugh, “I get excited about stuff nobody cares about.” Another shrug, “I need reassurance all the time.”
His voice drops, “So sometimes I just…” He picks at the grass, “disappear for a little while.”
Eddie’s expression twists. Like the words physically hurt him.
Buck keeps staring at the ground, “Give people a break.”
A long silence. Then—
“Evan.”
Buck winces, “Yeah?”
“Do you know how many times I called you?”
Buck groans, “A lot...”
Eddie rubs his face, “Yeah, Buck. A lot.”
Buck almost smiles. Almost.
The silence settles again. Gentle. Not awkward. Just waiting.
Eventually Buck pats the trunk beside him, “This is Gerald, by the way.”
Eddie turns slowly, “The tree has a name.”
Buck nods, “Obviously.”
Eddie smiled, “Obviously.”
“He’s lonely.”
Eddie looks at the giant tree standing proudly on its hill, “So you decided that...”
“Look at him.” Buck gestures dramatically, “He’s all alone.”
Eddie studies the tree, “Huh…”
Buck leans back against Gerald, “Maybe he was lonely before too.”
Eddie glances over.
Buck frowned, “I read something once… about souls reincarnating as trees.”
Eddie immediately accepts this information because at this point in their friendship, why wouldn’t he?
“And after a hard life they got to rest.” Buck looks up through the branches, “They just stand in the sunshine for a hundred years.” The leaves sway overhead. “No expectations. No pressure. Not even trying to earn love.”
His voice softens, “They just get to exist.”
Eddie watches him carefully.
Buck doesn’t notice, “When I die I’m gonna be a tree.” The words leave his mouth so casually it takes him a second to realize how insane they sound.
But Eddie doesn’t laugh. Of course he doesn’t.
Buck smiles faintly, “I’ll find a sunny hill.” He pats Gerald again, “Maybe not as lonely as Gerald.”
Rude. The leaves immediately rustle.
Buck gasps, “Did you hear that?”
Eddie deadpans, “Gerald says you’re being dramatic.”
Buck points, “See? He gets me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Buck laughs. Then the laugh dissolves because the ache is still there. The loneliness. The exhaustion. The feeling of being too much and not enough all at once.
His smile fades, “When I’m a tree…” His voice catches, eyes red, “I hope I don’t feel lonely anymore.”
The words fall between them. Small. Honest. Painfully honest.
Buck immediately wishes he could take them back. Instead, a hand lands on his shoulder.
Firm. Warm. Steady.
Eddie squeezes once.
Then stands, “Come on.”
Buck blinks, “What?”
“Get up.”
“Eddie—”
“Get up.”
Buck looks around. At Gerald. At the hill. At the sun setting. At his emotional support tree,“What about Gerald?”
Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, “Gerald will survive.”
“We don’t know that.”
“We do.”
Buck gasps, “Eddie.”
“Get up.”
Buck reluctantly lets Eddie haul him to his feet. His legs protest. His dignity protests louder.
Then Eddie grabs his wrist and starts dragging him toward the truck.
“Eddie.”
“Nope.”
Buck digs in his heels, “Where are we going?”
Eddie yanks open the passenger door, “Get in.”
“What?”
“Get in.”
Buck squints, “You’ve got murder vibes.”
“Get in the truck.”
Buck points toward the hill, “My Jeep is right there.”
“We’re coming back.”
“What does that mean?” Eddie physically shoves him into the passenger seat.
Buck is still complaining when Eddie starts the engine. The truck pulls away. The hill disappears behind them. Gerald grows smaller in the side mirror.
Buck salutes him, “Be strong, buddy.”
Eddie groans.
Twenty minutes later they’re still driving. Buck has cycled through confusion, suspicion, and mild annoyance. Now he’s back to confusion.
“Eddie.”
No answer.
Buck huffs.
Five minutes later the truck finally slows, turns, then parks.
Buck looks around.
A neighborhood. Normal houses. Normal street. Nothing special.
The engine shuts off. Eddie unbuckles and finally looks at him, “Stay here.”
Buck stares, “What?”
“Stay.”
“Eddie.”
“I’ll be back.” The door opens… then shuts.
Buck watches through the windshield as Eddie jogs toward a house halfway down the street. Then disappears inside.
Buck throws his head back dramatically, “Gerald would never do this to me.”
*** 🌳❤️🌳 ***
The truck door opens and Eddie climbs back inside.
Buck immediately sits up, “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Eddie starts the engine.
Buck points out the windshield, “I saw you.”
“Saw what?”
“You came out with four guys.”
Eddie shrugs, “Okay.”
“You all shook hands.”
“Mmhm.”
“Like you made a deal.”
Eddie pulls away from the curb.
Buck narrows his eyes, “What deal did you make?”
“Nope.”
Buck groans dramatically, “Gerald would tell me.”
“Gerald is enabling you.” Eddie glared at him.
Buck gasps. The betrayal.
Twenty minutes later they’re pulling back onto the lonely hill. Gerald stands exactly where they’d left him. Proud. Majestic. Slightly judgmental.
Buck immediately climbs out, “Miss me?”
The leaves rustle.
“Thank you, Gerald.”
Eddie sighs.
Buck settles down beneath the tree and leans against the trunk. Warm bark presses against his shoulders. Familiar. Comforting. Safe.
He glances over expecting Eddie to sit beside him. Instead, Eddie lays down, directly in the grass, then shifts until his head lands in Buck’s lap.
Buck short-circuits, “Uhh...”
Eddie closes his eyes, like this is normal. Like he hasn’t just committed emotional terrorism.
Buck stares, “Eddie.”
“Hm?”
“Your head is in my lap.”
“Good observation.”
Buck’s face feels suspiciously warm.
Eddie gets comfortable, moving his body until he found the perfect angle and melted into Buck.
Buck is going to die. Right here. Under Gerald. Killed by Eddie Diaz, “What are you doing?”
Eddie shrugs, “You looked sad.”
That is not an answer.
Buck opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Nothing comes out.
Because Eddie looks peaceful. The tension from earlier finally gone. Eyes closed. Sunlight dancing across his face.
Trusting Buck enough to just… exist.
A strange ache settles in Buck’s chest. Soft. Warm. Dangerous.
Then Eddie speaks, “What tree would you be?”
Buck blinks, “What?”
“When you reincarnate.” Eddie opens one eye, “What tree?”
And just like that Buck is off, “Oh.”
Eddie closed his eyes again, ready to listen to Buck and his logic behind what tree he could possibly be.
“Okay, so I thought about this… I think I’d be a live oak.”
Eddie hums, “Why?”
“Because they spread out.” Buck gestures, “Have you seen them?”
“No.”
“You’re from Texas.”
“I know what a live oak looks like.” Eddie admits.
“Then why’d you ask?” Buck asked, looking down at him.
Eddie keeps his eyes closed and shrugs, “I just wanted you to keep talking.”
Buck immediately does, “Okay, so they’re huge.” His fingers find Eddie’s hair. Start combing through it absentmindedly. Neither of them acknowledge it, “They make shade. They’re sturdy. They survive forever and people gather under them.”
Eddie’s breathing slows as he listens to Buck ramble about the tree he’d become.
Buck keeps going, “They don’t grow straight up.” His voice softens, “They grow out. Toward people. Toward space… toward sunlight. I think I’d like that…”
The breeze shifts overhead, leaves dancing. As they sit in silence for a full minute.
“You already do.”
Buck freezes.
Eddie doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t take it back. Just says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s a fact.
You already do.
Buck swallows hard. His fingers continue moving through Eddie’s hair. Gentle. Steady.
The sun dips lower. Golden light spilling across the hill.
For a while neither of them speak. Until the faint sounds of a giant truck and truck bed are heard. Pulling up to the base of the slight hill, dust trailing behind them, where Eddie and Buck’s vehicles are parked.
Eddie smiles, “Oh good.”
“Oh good?”
The truck stops, doors open and three men pile out. The same three men from earlier.
Buck points wildly, “It’s the handshake guys!”
“The what?”
“The handshake guys!”
One of the men starts laughing. Another waves. The third heads toward the truck bed.
Buck squints then freezes because there’s a tree back there. Not a new tree, just starting out. But a young tree. Smaller than Gerald.
But unmistakably a tree. A whole entire tree.
Buck turns toward Eddie, slowly, “Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a tree?”
Eddie stands, dusts off his jeans and offers Buck a hand.
Buck stares at it. Then at him.
Eddie’s smile softens. The kind of smile that always feels dangerous. The kind that usually means Buck is about to cry. He wiggles his fingers. Still waiting, “Just… trust me.”
Buck takes his hand automatically.
Eddie pulls him to his feet. Then gestures toward Gerald. Toward the lonely hill. Toward the brand-new tree.
The one that won’t be lonely. Not anymore.
Buck’s breath catches.
Slowly.
Horribly.
Wonderfully.
The pieces click together, “Eddie…”
Eddie squeezes his hand. Just once, “You said Gerald looked lonely.”
Buck stares.
The men are already unloading shovels. Measuring spots. Talking quietly amongst themselves.
“You—”
“You were giving everybody a break.” Eddie’s voice is painfully gentle, “But I don’t ever want a break from you. So… I figured maybe Gerald could use a friend.”
Buck’s eyes burn immediately. The traitors, “Eddie—”
“And maybe…” Eddie looks away for a second. Then back.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
A little vulnerable. Eddie cleared his throat, looking back at Buck with his big brown eyes, “…maybe lonely things aren’t supposed to stay lonely.”
Buck can’t breathe. Not properly. Not with Eddie looking at him like that. Not with a tree sitting in the back of a truck bed.
Not with Gerald finally getting a companion.
Not with the realization slowly dawning that Eddie drove forty minutes, recruited three guys, bought a whole-ass tree, and dragged everyone out here because Buck was sad.
Buck wipes at his eyes, “Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
His voice cracks, “I think I’m in love with you.”
And Eddie just smiles like maybe he already knew. Like maybe he’s been waiting for Buck to catch up.
Then he presses a shovel into Buck’s hands, “That’s great.”
Buck blinks, “What?”
Eddie grabs another shovel, “We’re talking about feelings after we plant Gerald’s boyfriend.”
Buck laughs so hard he can’t breathe.
*** 🌳 ❤️ 🌳 ***
The tree goes into the ground just before sun sets. The sky is all gold and amber. The kind of light Buck has always loved. The kind that makes everything look softer.
Warmer.
Hopeful.
The three men work while Buck mostly stands there holding a shovel and trying not to cry. Again. Because apparently that’s his thing now.
The new tree settles into the earth beside Gerald.
Close. Very close.
Its trunk leans ever so slightly. Just enough that one branch brushes against Gerald’s like it’s reaching. Like it spent its whole life looking for him.
Buck sniffles, “Oh my God.”
One of the guys wipes sweat from his forehead, “What?”
“They love each other.”
The guy blinks then looks at Eddie, “Eddie, I need you to know this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever been paid to do.”
Eddie doesn’t even hesitate, “I’m sure it is.”
After several minutes of intense debate, the new tree receives a name.
Franklin.
Buck doesn’t know why. It just feels right.
Gerald and Franklin.
Old man names. Soulmate names. Names for trees who found each other after a very long time apart.
The crew packs up shortly afterward. Their trucks disappear down the road.
The dust settles.
And suddenly it’s quiet again.
Just Buck.
Just Eddie.
Just Gerald and Franklin.
The evening breeze stirs the leaves overhead. Buck drops beneath Gerald. Eddie settles beneath Franklin. Close enough that their shoulders touch. Close enough that Buck can feel the warmth of him.
The two trees lean gently toward one another above them. Their branches swaying in the wind.
Buck stares upward, “They look happy.”
Eddie follows his gaze, “They do.”
Buck smiles. The ache in his chest feels different now. Smaller. Manageable. Like sunlight finally finding its way through the leaves.
For a while they sit in comfortable silence.
Then Eddie clears his throat.
Buck glances over.
Eddie is looking at the trees. Not at him. Which somehow makes it feel more important, “I can’t do a Buck rant.”
Buck laughs softly, “No?”
“Afraid I couldn’t even if I tried.” He laughed, “I don’t know how you do it.” Eddie nudges his shoulder. “My brain just doesn’t work like that.”
“Fair.”
“But,” Eddie points upward at Gerald and Franklin, “they’ll tangle eventually.”
Buck looks up, “Their roots.”
Eddie shrugs, “Trees do that.” The breeze catches Franklin’s leaves, “They’ll grow together underground.”
Buck’s smile fades. Something warm takes its place.
Eddie continues, “They’ll share water. They’ll support each other. They’ll warn each other about storms.”
Buck swallows. Hard.
“And after a while…” Eddie’s voice grows quieter, “They won’t really know where one tree ends and the other begins.”
The hill falls silent.
Buck’s heart pounds. Slowly. Steadily. Like something waking up.
Then Eddie turns and Buck forgets how to breathe because Eddie is looking at him. Really looking at him. Like Buck is the most important thing in the world.
Like he’s sunlight.
Like he’s home.
“Eddie…”
“If you reincarnate as a tree,” Eddie says softly, “I’m doing it too.”
Buck’s chest cracks open, “Eddie.”
“I’m serious.” The setting sun catches in Eddie’s eyes. Warm brown turned molten gold, “I’ll find you.”
A shaky laugh escapes Buck, “In a forest?”
“In a forest.”
“What if there are thousands of trees?”
Eddie’s smile is small. Certain, “I’ll find you.”
Buck’s eyes burn, “What if we’re on opposite sides of the country?”
“I’ll find you.” His voice never wavers.
“What if it takes a hundred years?”
Eddie reaches over and takes Buck’s hand, “I’ll find you. I won’t stop until I do.”
The tears finally spill over and Buck doesn’t stop them. Can’t stop them. Doesn’t want to.
Eddie squeezes his hand. Gentle. Steady. Like a promise, “In every lifetime.”
Buck lets out a watery laugh, “Eddie…”
Eddie shakes his head, “Hear me, Buckley.” His thumb brushes across Buck’s knuckles, “In every lifetime, Evan.”
The world goes very still. The wind. The trees. The sunset. Everything. As if the entire universe is holding its breath.
Waiting.
“Because if you’re a tree…” Eddie smiles. Soft. Fond. So full of love it hurts, “Then I’ll be the tree growing beside you and we’ll spend centuries tangled together.”
A tear slips down Buck’s cheek.
Eddie brushes it away, “We’ll reach for the same sun.”
Another tear.
Another gentle swipe, “We’ll weather the same storms.”
Buck laughs. Crying. Smiling. Hopelessly gone.
“And when lonely people need somewhere to rest…” Eddie glances up at Gerald and Franklin, “…we’ll make room.”
The sun sinks lower. Painting everything gold.
Buck has spent his whole life reaching: For love. For family. For a place to belong. And suddenly—here it is.
Sitting beside him beneath a tree. Looking at him like he hung the moon. Like he invented sunlight. Like he is worth finding. Every time.
In every life.
“Eddie.” His voice barely works.
“Yeah?”
Buck smiles through his tears, “I’ll find you too. We’ll find each other.”
Eddie’s laugh is quiet. Beautiful, “Yeah...” His forehead brushes Buck’s, “we will.”
And then—
Finally.
After years of almosts. Years of longing. Years of choosing each other without knowing why.
Eddie kisses him.
Soft.
Slow.
Certain.
Like he’s not discovering something but like he’s finally coming home.
Buck melts instantly, one hand tangling in Eddie’s shirt. The other finding his face. The kiss tastes like sunshine. Like relief. Like every lonely day finally ending.
Above them, Gerald and Franklin sway together in the evening breeze. Their branches touching. Their roots beginning their long journey toward one another beneath the earth.
And below them, Buck kisses Eddie back. The man he found in this lifetime. The man who promised to find him in the next. The man who always would.
The sun slips below the horizon but neither of them notice they’ve already found the light.