Chapter Text
It gets to a certain point of not eating in long enough that your head starts to feel light and airy. Your body begins feeling as if it wasn’t yours. As if you were only a ghost floating around and haunting your own life. He hated letting himself get to that point. He could always tell when he was letting it go too far when that started to happen. He tried keeping himself away from it. Staying on that wire of middle ground between unhealthy and detrimental. It wasn’t an easy task though. Sometimes just letting himself forget was so much easier than trying to play with the calorie logistics behind a meal.
So he played his own little game of how long he could go between shifts without feeling hungry. The answer at first was not very long. When he was still so used to eating a decently healthy amount of food each day, suddenly deriving himself from that was certainly a struggle he had to get through. Then, when his body began adapting to the lack, it was much easier to forget the basic human need. It wasn’t something his mind went to anymore. Eating a normal amount would just make his stomach hurt at that point. So the only reasonable action was to continue not eating.
It wasn’t an obsessive habit. Many people with eating disorders were overly engaged in what they were eating. That's why he didn’t have an eating disorder. He was too uncaring about what he was putting in his body. Realistically, he would just work out far more than whatever amount of calories he could have put into himself. It wasn’t a disorder, he was just watching what he ate. It had nothing to do with the names that asshole boys called him in high school. It had nothing to do with the impossible body standards he set for himself. He was fine.
“Big Buckley” was a thing of the past when he used to play ball. He’d never really understood the nickname either considering he wasn’t ever overweight at any point in his life. Sure, he wasn’t the skinniest kid in his school, but he was never unhealthy or anything like that. What was going on now wasn’t a result of that. It wasn’t a disorder. And it wasn’t something that anybody had to worry about.
He was still trying to find his footing in the firehouse and didn’t want his captain throwing him out for being potentially unstable. He knew he wasn’t unstable, but he didn't know if Bobby would feel the same. His captain seemed to have a stick up his ass about mental health that Buck really didn't want to push the boundaries of. He still didn’t really understand why the man had such a sharp stick for it, but he wasn’t taking any more advice about it from the man.
The last time he’d done something Bobby had recommended to him about such, he was crying as he and his therapist had sex. The ghost of her hands on his skin and his own on hers. He hadn’t wanted it. He’d never said no to sex before though, so he didn’t know how. He’d never not wanted sex. Then suddenly when he didn’t, he had zero idea how to refuse. He knew if he really hadn’t wanted it, he could have just pushed her off. He was physically stronger than her, so in his head, anything he felt negatively as a result of the ordeal was his own fault. He let it happen. He chose his fate.
Regardless of whose fault it was, last time he’d done something off of Bobby’s advice, he’d been left feeling like his body was on fire with finger prints and guilt. So, he didn’t want to know what the man would do if he figured out Buck’s very healthy, emphasis on healthy, relationship with food.
He hated the small part of him that knew the real reason he didn’t want to tell his Captain or teammates was because he didn’t want them to see this pathetic part of him. He knew realistically he was a good looking and attractive guy, he had no reason to be so picky and weird about what he took into his body. There was nothing to worry about, so why did he constantly worry? He didn’t want to immediately be deemed unstable and unfit by the closest thing he had to a family since Maddie left him. He knew that the three others likely didn’t feel the same about him, but unlike the eating thing, he couldn’t deny the attachment issues.
He wanted his team to like him, despite the amount of trouble he's gotten up to so far. He figured that showing the worst of him on the front end was better. If they could tolerate that version of him, they surely wouldn’t be able to leave his actual personality. He’s yet to figure out if his true character had been the thing driving people away from him. He didn’t really want to know. It was easier to just assure himself it had to be the worst of him.
He doesn’t remember the last time he had eaten any protein. He tried to rack his mind through the span of his two off days. He had some casserole that Carla had made for Abby and her mother, but when he looked up if hashbrowns had protein in them, the answer was no. He’d had a small snack in his own condo he was sharing with other boys his age, but nothing of actual substance. Maybe a couple crackers? Some fruit? Still, neither of them had protein. In his defense, it wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want to eat over the days. Mostly, it was because of the weird sleeping schedule he had coming off of a 72 hour shift and trying to get his body back into normal rhythm. He tended to sleep through or forget normal meal times, making up for it by trying to quickly shove something down his throat so he wouldn’t pass out in the day.
Maybe the lack of protein was to blame for the 2 day long headache he was sporting right now. It wasn’t exactly a migraine. He knew that because he could still function. Usually when he had those headaches, he would rot and pretend not to be crying in bed until it stopped hurting. Not his proudest moments, he would have to admit. So this wasn’t a migraine. He just needed to eat something with protein in it before the next call. Easy. He could do that right after he was done shining the bumper.
But then call after call came in. His head was spinning and pounding by the time they finally got back to the station hours later. They went from an inconvenient fender bender, to a jumper, to an actual small fire in a beach side restaurant. Abby had texted him a fair amount of times, but Buck didn’t have the energy to respond to her. He felt bad about it, but he would explain how exhausted he was later. She would understand. He hoped.
By the time he was stumbling out of the engine and heading towards the showers, he felt like he was going to pass out at any second. He felt like a balloon that had been filled with too much helium, like he was about to melt into the clouds.
His body was moving on auto-pilot as he pulled his body out of his turn-outs. His arms strained as he tugged his boots off of his feet. The jerking motion made his head spin in circles.
He unzipped his jacket and threw it into the laundry bin, quickly doing the same with his pants. Now left in only his underclothes, he began making his way up towards the loft.
He was so exhausted from the lack of energy in his system. There wasn’t enough fuel in his body to keep him going much longer. The second his foot made contact with his first step, somebody shouted behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going, probie?” It was Chimney. Buck stopped in his tracks, sighing as he turned around. “This laundry ain’t gonna do itself.” Buck resisted the urge to groan in the paramedics face. He knew that one would get him a big scolding from Bobby, snapping at his superiors, so he kept himself under control. If he didn’t eat something right now, he was more likely to fall into the laundry than actually do it. But, if he told Chimney that, then the man would have questions about why he hadn’t eaten enough today or the day before. Then Buck would have to explain he forgot. Then that would open a whole other can of worms that Buck, again, didn’t want to get into.
He huffed, not bothering to make an effort to respond as he turned on his heels and made his way back towards the basket of clothes. He understood that it was technically his job as the newest recruit to do the dirty work, but he really wasn’t feeling it today.
It was a mindless routine as he pulled the dirty turnouts out of the basket and shoved them into the wash. He poured a generous amount of detergent into the mix and started the machine. He briefly rested his head against the cold metal, relishing in the way it soothed the pounding in his head. The gentle vibrations of the metal would have put him to sleep if it weren’t for the footsteps clicking up behind him.
He pushed his head up, pausing for a brief second to make sure he wasn’t going to pass out. The only thing worse than falling asleep on the job was completely passing out. He turned his head, now face to face with his captain, who immediately looked a bit worried.
“Buck?” Bobby questioned, shooting him a concerned glance. Buck grunted in acknowledgment, then cleared his throat, realizing it could come off as rude.
“Yes?” He asked carefully, trying to make himself seem presentable. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job or not.
“You okay?” His captain asked, “you look a bit rough.” Buck nodded his head quickly, then regretted it as it made the world tilt.
“I’m good,” He tried to assure the man, “Just a bit tired.” He couldn’t tell if Bobby knew he was lying or not. He hoped the man couldn’t read him that quickly into their relationship. It took a moment, but Bobby eventually nodded at him.
“If you’re sure,” Bobby told him, giving him a gentle squeeze to the shoulder. The man looked like he was about to walk away when he hesitated. He turned back, eyes looking Buck up and down like he could see something Buck himself couldn’t. “I’m always here to talk if you need, you know that, right?”
Buck internally sighed, but didn’t let his frustration show visibly. He didn’t want to talk. He was fine. He didn’t need help because there was nothing wrong with him. He was just tired because he had forgotten to eat. It wasn’t a reoccurring problem that he was dealing with. He was fine. He ignored the part of him crawling out of his chest just begging to ask for Bobby’s help.
“I’m good, Bobby,” Buck forced his voice to be even, “Just tired.” He could tell that Bobby didn’t really believe him. He wouldn’t believe himself if he was on the other side of this conversation either. That wasn’t the point though. He didn’t need Bobby to completely buy into what he was saying, he only needed the man to leave him alone now.
Bobby gave him another moment, seeing if he would give in and let go of whatever he was holding onto. Buck wasn’t going to though. He was fine.
As long as he could convince everyone else of that, then eventually maybe he would believe it himself.
A year passed. He never really fixed himself, but he got better at hiding it. He got better at pretending he was fine. Maddie being around again made that both easier and more difficult. He loved having his sister around. It made him so relieved to know that she was currently safe and wasn’t going to leave him, but unfortunately, she was also the one that could see through him the best. She also knew him better than anyone else in the world did.
She grew up with his weird habits of not eating enough. She was the one that reminded him to get a snack or make sure he had protein that day.
So her being back in his life meant he had someone constantly on his ass. It seems that she missed taking care of someone as much as he missed having his older sister around.
It didn’t help that he was much more familiar with his fire house now either. They liked him enough to see him as a sort of family now. They could tell when he was upset or struggling. They knew his little quirks and how he could be weird sometimes. They didn’t know about the while eating thing directly, but they could see when his mood was off.
Eddie Diaz was a whole other piece to the puzzle of his life that he didn’t know how to fit in. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel threatened by the other man at first. He was strong and a hero. Buck had been worried Bobby was already trying to replace him. When he was eventually told that Eddie was hired because Bobby wanted him to have a teammate, it made him feel better. Bobby wasn’t replacing him. He cared enough to want to protect him. And, after getting to know him a little deeper, Buck found that Eddie was a pretty cool guy.
His kid was the sweetest person in existence. They shared a lot of similar qualities and interests. Buck genuinely had a good time hanging out with the man. He never really had a friend his entire life. Sure, Connor was a good guy and he’s the whole reason Buck found himself in LA to begin with, but they were never that close.
Before Connor, he was never anywhere long enough to make roots and settle down. He made a couple temporary acquaintances, but he didn’t remember any of their names himself. Back in school, nobody wanted anything to do with him. They were friendly to his face, but never really invited him to hang out. He felt like an outsider looking in on the other kids for his entire life, so to have someone like Eddie in his life now was like a breath of fresh air. It was the friendship that stupid TV shows he watched as a kid promised him.
With Eddie and Maddie around more, it was hard to “forget” to eat. Eddie had a habit of bringing food over himself or ordering it when they were together. Buck wished he could enjoy the fun of sharing a pizza with a friend without having an internal breakdown about the food itself. Maybe that's why people had never hung out with him. He was too much. Too weird. Too in his own head to have fun around.
He also had Bobby in his life now. It didn’t take long after the man’s initial opposition to their father-son like bond to step into that role. Bobby made sure he was safe and taking care of himself. He was teaching Huck how to cook for the team. He was the one who tied his tie on his first date with Abby. He was the one he confessed to about feeling unwanted by his own parents. Bobby never made him feel weird or weak about needing to talk or wanting help.
Bobby couldn’t always be around though. Buck acted normal enough at work with food that Bobby wouldn’t realistically have any idea he was struggling. He made sure to eat enough that nobody would bat an eye at work. If there wasn’t a visible problem, none of them would ever know. So he forced himself to be normal at work. Eat just enough that it looks right. Worked out enough to burn off more he was taking in. On the outside it just looked like he was a determined firefighter. On the inside, he was closer to drowning than he was comfortable admitting.
Still, when Maddie was at work, he wasn’t on shift, and when Eddie was busy, there was nobody watching his every move until he proved that he was taking care of himself. He could stare at the leftover pizza in his fridge and there would be nobody there to question it. He struggled eating the greasy mess when Eddie was laughing beside him, how was he ever going to eat it when the only thing he had was the darkness inside of his own brain.
He felt bad for wasting a small fraction of Eddie’s money as he watched the leftovers slide off of the box and into the trash can. He finally had an actual friend in his life and the only thing he could do with that was waste the gifts he’d been given. He hated himself for it.
After shoving the box into the bag as well, he sighed, resting his hands against the counter. His stomach was still uncomfortably full from the egg Maddie forced him to eat this morning. Her shift started later today, meaning that Buck was actually awake at the same time she was. She originally had only made enough for herself, but against Buck's insistence that he wasn’t hungry, she had made him food anyway. Buck couldn’t bear to not eat the food his sister had put effort into making for him, so he choked it down with a forced smile as he chatted with her over breakfast.
Those eggs were heavy in his gut. Swishing and rolling with every movement he made. He wished he had a shift today. He usually didn’t get caught in his own head as badly when he was working. He was too busy to spiral into the pit of self doubt and worry he constantly found himself stuck in. Someone was always there to talk to him or just sit in his presence. It kept him stable. Bobby was there. The man made him feel safe and secure. He wouldn’t be so deep inside of his head.
There was also the bonus that when working, he was sure to burn off whatever calories he gained from the food he was eating. If the calls themselves weren’t already enough, he had the gym right downstairs that he could use. There was always a way to make sure that he wasn’t letting himself go.
His mind shriveled as it remembered the comment Chim had made the other day. He knew it had been a joke. He knew the man was teasing him and he had no idea that the stupid words and pat on the gut would make him feel sick in his own skin for the rest of the day. It was part of Chimney’s personality to joke like that. Buck just wished he had been able to take it. He wished he hadn’t gone home on the verge of panic, trying to assure himself he wasn’t getting out of shape. That his body wasn’t changing.
He sighed, pushing his body up from the countertop. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself. All of his friends were busy and he had nothing productive to do with his own life. His eyes eventually landed on his (Abby’s) bed. He wasn’t opposed to napping. Resting helped make up for the energy he didn’t get from eating. He could compensate with naps and bouts of interrupted sleep. At least then he could act like he had a normal amount of energy.
Buck grabbed his phone and dragged his feet to the room. He tossed off his shirt, grimacing at the way it briefly stuck to his skin. He pulled his blankets back and slipped into the soft warmth of the bed. It was big enough for him to sprawl out. A small part of him missed Abby being there with him. A bigger part of him knew in reality what he missed was the feeling of human touch. The warmth of being held and wanted by another.
He found a comfortable position in the bed and let his eyes slip shut. The second he relaxed, his phone buzzed and the noise made him jump. He sighed, picking up the device to see a text from Eddie.
<Eddie> Hey man, you got any of that pizza still leftover?
Shit. He pictured the slices rotting away in the bottom of his trash can, contaminated by the trash rotting there. He was so fucking stupid. Of course he finally made the decision to throw the pizza out right before Eddie asked him about it.
Part of him wanted to fish the slices out of the trash and choke them all down until guilt no longer swallowed his chest about being wasteful. He knew if he really forced himself to, he would be able to get it all down. It was like when he was little and his parents sat him down at dinner and told him he couldn’t move until he finished his hotdog. He hated the taste of hotdogs when he was little. They had far too tangy and too much of a hammy taste. Still, his parents wouldn’t let him up. He had forced the meal down into his mouth, choking and gagging on the taste and smell. He had coughed up half chewed hot dogs as he forced enough down to satisfy his parents. They had seen his playe, covered in specks of foot and saliva that had dripped out in the process, sighed, and told him it was good enough.
He could do the same with the pizza. Send a picture to Eddie teasing him about the slices he hadn’t gotten to get back. Turn his foolish suffering into a joke so that the guilt wouldn’t boil his blood from the inside out.
<Buck> Nope, I ate it
It was easy to lie over text. He didn’t want to admit to his friend that he had thrown it away. It was so easy to just lie. It was normal for a man in his mid twenties to eat a bunch of leftover pizza, right? He hated the fact he had no idea if it was true or not.
He didn’t have the friends, or the healthy relationship with a meal, to know whether that made sense or not.
<Eddie> All of it? Damn man.
Apparently not. He knew he hadn’t eaten it all at, but just the idea of Eddie thinking he had stuffed his face full of greasy cheese and bread was enough to make him want to cry. Part of him wanted to text Eddie the truth. He didn’t eat it. He wasn’t that out of control. If he did, it would evoke too many questions.
His stomach spun inside his gut, uncomfortable and tense. He felt like he was about to get sick. Shit. This couldn’t be good. He laid a hand over his abdomen, trying to calm the sensation in his gut.
He never responded to Eddie’s message. He didn’t eat anything else that night. The thought of the pizza crawled back in his mind every time he considered eating. Greasy and fatty. Covered in trash juices and flies, rotting away in the bottom of his trash.
It was fine though. He was fine. He didn’t need food anyway. He needed to keep his cravings under control. He was strong enough to keep himself under control.
Eddie didn’t text him again. Maddie didn’t check up on him. He let the rest of the day slip by him without feeding himself and without the guilt that he had been feeling recently when Maddie scolded him about forgetting.
Because he never really was “forgetting,” was he?
It didn’t matter, he convinced himself. He wasn’t sick.
He didn’t have a problem. He was just being mindful.
That’s all it was.
After the ladder truck fell on his leg, things spiraled downward. He wasn’t able to work out. He was not able to do his job. He wasn’t able to move at first without help. People are constantly watching over him. He was giving gift basket after gift basket of food and treats that he couldn’t stomach looking at.
He never understood why people would give you food when you were hurt. There was no way to burn it off. He didn’t want to eat and shove his face when he had no way to undo it.
Someone was constantly standing over him making sure he was taking care of himself. He couldn’t not eat when Maddie was placing food in front of him and watching himmuntil it was gone.
He couldn’t gag at the smell of banana bread when Bobby was the one who brought it to him. He couldn’t sob in his own pity when Eddie and Chris were over checking up on him.
At least in the beginning of his recovery, he could rationalize the amount of food he was eating by telling himself that the strength was needed to get better. If he didn’t eat, he would never be able to go back to work.
The mindset only worked for so long. It kept him from vomiting all over himself when his stomach sat heavy and swirling after meals. It kept his brain from spiraling completely out of control. It only lasted until he got back.
Finally after months of hard work and suffering, he was going to be a firefighter again. He would get to be with his family again. It was all going to be worth it. Every moment of choking down food into a ruined stomach. Every painful and agonizing hour of physical therapy. It would all finally be worth it.
Then he was coughing up blood on Bobby and Athena’s floor. Then his doctor was telling him about the blood clots and Bobby told him that the department didn’t deem him fit. With no confirmation that he would ever get his old job back, Buck gave up.
He had nothing to fight for. No job to go back to. No family to fight for. No purpose to fulfill. He was a ghost haunting what used to be his life. The only bonus of having absolutely nothing to do was that he had absolutely nothing to be eating for either.
He didn’t bother forcing himself to take in protein or any substance for that matter. Rotting away on his bed meant he didn’t have to do a single thing. He didn’t need energy. He didn’t need to be healthy. With no family forcing their check ups on him, he had nobody to perform for either. He could look as sickly and destroyed as he wanted and nobody would ever know.
Yet another plus to not eating or drinking meant that he didn’t have to get up to go to the bathroom hardly at all. There was nothing to interrupt him. Nothing that would force him to get out of his bed and exist like an actual person.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying here now. His stomach was hollow and empty, aching as it grinded against his other organs. His throat was entirely dry. His own saliva was too hot and sticky to help against the burn. His limbs were sweating and aching from the lack of energy and movement. He wasn’t sure the last time he had even moved at all. He didn’t know what the day or time was. His eyes were sticky with crust and his mouth was hot and gross.
He didn’t have the energy in him to move. However long he had been laying now, it had been even longer since he had eaten. He wasn’t hungry anymore. There was no reason to fuel his body. His body had no purpose. The only feeling it provided him was the dull and distant ache in his leg that he didn’t think would ever truly go away.
He knew he was killing himself. A person could only last so long without consuming anything before their body began to starve. Realistically the dehydration would be the thing to kill him first, but regardless, he knew what he was doing.
It wasn’t that he wanted to die, but he knew that he couldn’t live like this. He was born to be a firefighter. It was the only thing in his life that ever mare sense and it felt like the world was trying to rip whatever chance he had of solid ground away from him.
His body felt like it was floating. He felt like a ghost. He felt like shit. He needed help. He needed to get himself to move. He couldn’t. He didn’t have enough energy in his body. The hunger pains the stabbing through his abdomen up his entire body. The thought of food made him want to vomit. The thought of laying here dying anymore made him want to cry.
He didn’t have the strength to do either of those. He tried to push himself up enough to sit, his arms hardly moved and immediately collapsed under his own weight. He was too weak to move. He didn’t have enough energy to try again. His head was spinning as his vision danced with grainy black spots.
He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to be home. Not Hershey, Pennsylvania. That had never been his home, but the firehouse. He distantly pictures his team. Bobby, Chimney, Hen, and Eddie. The people who had wormed their way into his life as family.
He just wanted to go home.
He forced his arm to move. The effort made him dizzy. His head spun painfully, drawing a wrecked cry from his mouth. The light from his phone made his eyes burn. They watered, tears dripping down his cheeks. He ignored all the missed messages and went straight to click on a contact.
His phone rang, loud and mocking against his spinning head.
He could only pray that Eddie picked up.