Chapter Text
From the moment Eddie told Buck he was leaving for El Paso, Buck felt numb. He tried to put on a brave face and act happy for Eddie, but his heart was breaking. He couldn’t be selfish and ask him to stay, to miss his son’s big moments just to be with Buck in LA. So, he smiled, took the tablet, and sat on the couch, waiting for Eddie—always waiting for Eddie.
─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It’s been a month since Buck found out Eddie was moving, and nothing has gotten better. Every time Eddie talks about the move, which is happening tomorrow morning, a small part of Buck’s already broken heart fractures further. He doesn’t know how much of it is left, but he knows it’s almost completely shattered.
Tonight, Buck puts on his best shirt, his fanciest pants, and shoes, dressing to look like he’s celebrating. He knows everyone has been watching him closely ever since Eddie announced he was leaving.
He has to put on his best act and wear the biggest smile because he should be happy. His best friend is doing what’s best for his son, Buck reminds himself.
He looks in the mirror and tries to make his smile look real. It feels silly, but he can’t let anyone see how broken he is—how his world turned gray the moment Eddie told him he was buying a house in El Paso.
The drive to Eddie’s house passes in a blur. Buck doesn’t even remember getting into the ca and suddenly, he’s parked in front of Eddie’s house. He notices he didn’t park in his usual spot. The others had left it empty for him, but it doesn’t feel like his place anymore. Instead, he parks behind Hen’s car. He takes a deep breath, holding it in until he exhales sharply.
The worst part is that Buck doesn’t even understand why he’s feeling like this. Abby left, and his heart broke. Tommy left, and it hurt. But Eddie leaving? It feels like his entire world is stopping like he can’t breathe. His heart, already scarred and bleeding, feels like it’s giving its final pumps.
Despite this, he opens the car door, steps out, and walks to Eddie’s door on unsteady legs. He takes another breath and knocks, which is unusual since he’s "not a guest in Eddie’s house." Yet he can’t bring himself to just walk in. So he waits, hand trembling until Eddie opens the door.
“Since when do you knock instead of just barging in?” Eddie asks with a grin that Buck hates right now.
Buck doesn’t answer, only forces a smile, a big, fake one he’s perfected and playfully shoves Eddie’s shoulder.
“Ah, look who decided to show up!” Maddie teases when she sees him.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Traffic was awful, and I hit every red light in LA.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but Buck couldn’t admit the real reason for being late: he almost had a breakdown on the way here.
Maddie nods but doesn’t look convinced. Her gaze scans him from head to toe, and Buck squirms under her eyes. If anyone could see through him, besides Eddie, it’s Maddie. He’s terrified she can tell he’s broken beyond repair. But she smiles, taking his elbow and directing him to the greasy pizza on the countertop.
“Weren’t you supposed to bring cookies?” she asks, eyeing his empty hands.
Buck hesitates, then meets her gaze. He can’t tell her he hasn’t baked in weeks, that his evenings are spent drinking and watching mindless reality TV to quiet his thoughts. “Oh, I forgot them in my fridge. Sorry,” he says, hoping to sound convincing. But one look at Maddie’s face, and he knows she doesn’t believe him.
Before she can press further, Jee runs up and grabs Buck’s leg, almost making him fall.
“And what’s my favorite niece doing?” Buck asks, breaking eye contact with Maddie. He’s never been more grateful for a distraction.
“I’m your only niece, Uncle Buck,” Jee says with a toothy grin.
Her smile eases a small part of Buck’s pain, giving him a fleeting sense of peace. Maybe he’ll be okay. He has Maddie, Chim, and Jee. They’re family. But deep down, he knows they’ll never fill the Eddie and Chris-shaped hole in his heart.
Buck keeps Jee close, using her as a shield against questions he can’t answer. It works until Maddie takes Jee to put her down for a nap, leaving Buck alone with his thoughts.
He grabs a soda from the fridge, chugging it in one go as his mouth feels dry and his throat tight. He drifts toward the backyard, seeking to be alone. But when he reaches the glass door, he freezes. Through the glass, he sees two figures. Even without looking closely, Buck knows one of them is Eddie. He could recognize Eddie anywhere.
Before he can stop himself, he places his hand on the door handle. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but his body refuses to move.
“You’ll always have a place at the 118 if you want to come back,” Bobby says.
Buck’s heart clenches.
“I don’t think you should do that,” Eddie replies, voice without any emotion.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. You’ll always be part of this family, Eddie.”
“I’m not coming back, Bobby. My heart is in El Paso. Chris is there and my family. There's no reason for me to stay here.”
The words hit Buck like a physical blow.
There's no reason for me to stay here.
The phrase echoes in his mind, over and over, until it drowns out every other thought.
Somehow, Buck’s legs carry him back to the living room, though he feels like he’s moving underwater. Hen notices him immediately.
“Buck, are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost.”
"I think my blood sugar just dipped," he says, hoping she believes him. And if she doesn’t, he prays she’ll shut up and not say anything.
Hen nods, taking a candy from the coffee table and handing it to him. She takes his hand and leads him to the couch, the same couch he has so many good memories on. Memories that are now tainted by the image of him and Eddie sitting there, choosing a house Eddie will live in, away from Buck.
He unwraps the candy and pops it into his mouth. When he looks up, he sees all eyes on him.
"I'm okay. It's not like this hasn’t happened before. I had to run some errands today and forgot to eat, but this helps. Thank you, Hen." He smiles and hopes it looks real.
"You scared me, Buck. I thought you'd received some really bad news when I saw you," she says, patting his shoulder.
And he wants to laugh hysterically. What a joke. Because he just realized that the person he thought would never leave, the person he’d rip his heart out and hand to on a silver platter, just said he’s got nothing left in LA. And Buck can’t even blame him. Of course, Buck isn’t enough.
Of course, he’s the one left behind. Why does it surprise him that Eddie finally figured it out? It did take Eddie longer than expected, but he finally realized it, and now he’s leaving.
"I'm okay. I promise." Buck doesn’t know why he says that or why he promises because it’s a big, fat lie. But maybe it’ll make Hen stop looking at him like he’s dying like he’s a corpse on the road waiting for the coroner to arrive.
She only nods, not smiling, and moves to sit beside Karen. The chatter resumes, and Buck tries to listen, he really does, but all he hears is there's no reason for me to stay here . So he sits there in limbo, interjecting with affirmations and small laughs to fool everyone into thinking he’s fine.
Time passes, though he doesn’t know how much. Buck keeps trying to focus his eyes on whoever’s speaking, Chim, this time, retelling a funny story from a recent call. Buck knows it’s funny, but he can’t bring himself to laugh. He just sits quietly, looking through Chim, at the wall.
"Oh, finally, the main event is back," Athena says. Buck shifts his gaze to the left and sees Bobby entering, with Eddie just behind him. His stomach twists painfully.
Eddie laughs and sits on the arm of the couch next to Buck, and Buck feels like he’s boiling from the inside out. He doesn’t look at Eddie, keeping his eyes fixed ahead, hoping he looks interested enough in what Hen is saying to avoid suspicion. It works, for a while.
Then he feels a nudge on his arm. He fights the urge to look up at Eddie, but it’s a losing battle. Of course, it is. It’s always like that when Eddie asks for anything. Buck happily gives it to him. He’d give his whole life away just to ensure Eddie was safe and happy. Which should probably concern him. But they’re Buck and Eddie, so it doesn’t.
He looks up and instantly regrets it when his eyes meet Eddie’s.
"You okay?" Eddie asks, and Buck feels like his skin is gone and only his bones are left, bare and exposed.
Buck nods and forces a smile. Eddie seems to believe him and doesn’t press further.
Nothing significant happens after that. The conversation ebbs, and the sun outside disappears. Hen and Karen are the first to leave, needing to get back to Denny and Mara. They hug Eddie for far too long, pulling him into the embrace again and again, reluctant to let go.
"Don’t forget to visit. We’re already planning your next trip back," Hen says before heading out the door.
As the evening winds down, everyone begins to trickle away. Maddie, Chimney, and a drowsy Jee are the first to go, followed by Bobby and Athena. With their absence, the realization hits Buck like a quiet, unrelenting tide: he’s alone. The others all have someone to return home with, someone waiting for them, someone to share their space. For so long, that someone had been Eddie for Buck, so much so that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to face the solitude of the loft, to go home knowing no one would be there to greet him with warmth and familiarity.
The thought lingers, heavy and cold, as he anticipates the silence that will greet him tonight. No more quick escapes to Eddie’s house when the emptiness of his place becomes too suffocating. No more laughter or quiet moments that made everything feel right.
And then it happens: the others are gone, leaving only Buck and Eddie. Alone together, for the first time in what feels like forever. Buck has been avoiding moments like this, avoiding Eddie, ever since he heard about the move. Now, there’s no escape. Just the two of them, standing on the threshold of everything unspoken.
He’s afraid he’ll drop to his knees and beg Eddie to stay. But tonight, Buck realizes it wouldn’t matter. Eddie’s made up his mind. Begging would only humiliate him.
"I don’t want things to change between us, Buck. You mean too much to me and Chris. We need to stay in touch. We need to make this work," Eddie says after a long silence.
Buck had always believed Eddie before when he told him about the will when he said how much he cared about him. But now? Now Buck looks at Eddie and realizes he doesn’t trust him. For the first time since they became partners, Buck doesn’t believe Eddie. But he can’t say any of this. So he smiles, stands, and hugs Eddie. Maybe too tightly, just trying to memorize the feeling before Eddie leaves for good.
"Nothing will change." It’s a lie. "I know how much you care about me." That’s not a lie, or at least, Buck hopes it isn’t.
Eddie nods and squeezes him back. Buck feels like he’s going to shatter, but he breathes through it, holding Eddie tightly. It’s an embarrassingly long hug, but Buck can’t bring himself to let go. He knows this is the last time he’ll see Eddie in person. He can’t do this again. He’ll hide from Eddie for the rest of his life if it means avoiding this pain.
Eddie is the first to pull away. His eyes are teary, and Buck feels a pang of sadness for him. Eddie shouldn’t be crying, he’s going to see his son, to start fresh. Buck understands, though. Eddie’s leaving behind memories, this house full of packed boxes, and Buck.
"We’ll talk every day. We’ll FaceTime. And don’t stop sending me those weird little facts. Promise me this, promise me we’ll stay the same." Eddie extends his pinky.
It’s unfair, really, using the pinky promise. But Buck hooks his pinky with Eddie’s.
"Promise," he says.
─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It’s been three weeks since Eddie left, and Buck is barely more than a shadow of himself. He goes to work, comes home, and repeats the cycle, existing rather than living. He didn’t realize until now how many of his off days had been spent at the Diaz house. Over the past year, his loft had become less of a home and more of a place to sleep between shifts at the firehouse and hours at Eddie’s.
In the past three months, Buck was almost always by Eddie’s side. When he wasn’t, he was with Tommy, but the truth of it stings now, he’d chosen Eddie over his boyfriend more often than not. It’s from this distance, with time to reflect, that Buck finally understands. Tommy had seen what Buck hadn’t. Buck comes with baggage, and it’s labeled “Diaz.” Every time Eddie or Chris needed him, Buck dropped everything, shutting out anyone else in his life. Tommy must have recognized that long before Buck did, choosing to leave before getting hurt. And Buck can’t blame him. There was no scenario where Eddie and Chris wouldn’t be his first priority, always.
Buck knows how unhealthy this codependency is—was—but he thrived in it, cherished it. If someone had asked him a few months ago, he would’ve sworn Eddie felt the same way. But now? Now he’s not so sure, and that uncertainty is shattering. It’s devastating to think Eddie no longer has his back, that the Diaz family is no longer his safe haven. And he doesn’t know how to move forward, how to exist when so much of himself seems to have been left behind in that house, discarded like an afterthought.
The loft feels colder now, emptier. On his days off, Buck rarely makes it out of bed. The realization hit him hard, exactly an hour after Eddie’s goodbye party. Sitting alone in his loft, Buck understood the truth he’d been too scared to face before: he’s in love with Eddie. He’s been in love with Eddie. And it’s too late. He waited too long to admit it, even to himself, and that’s what makes it hurt worse than any breakup he’s ever endured. Worse than Abby. Worse than Tommy. Worse than Taylor. It’s not even a breakup, but the pain is suffocating.
Still, he does the impossible, in the morning. He gets up, stretching his leg despite the pain that’s been gnawing at him, worse since Eddie left. It’s stupid, he knows, to think his physical pain is tied to his emotional state, but he can’t shake the feeling. His chronic pain isn’t something many people know about; he’s always tried to keep it hidden. But there was one morning when he couldn’t. He couldn’t even get out of bed and had to call Bobby to tell him he couldn’t make it to work. That was when Eddie figured it out.
It had eaten Eddie alive to stay at work that day, knowing something was wrong with Buck. That’s what he said when he showed up at Buck’s loft later that night. Eddie found him still in bed, his face etched with pain.
“What’s wrong, Buck?” Eddie asks, his voice soft as he reaches out to place a hand on Buck’s forehead, checking for a fever.
Buck sighs at the comforting touch, considering lying, claiming it’s a stomach bug or something simple. But when he meets Eddie’s concerned gaze, the vulnerability wells up inside him. Lying would be pointless; Eddie would see right through it.
“My leg,” Buck murmurs. Eddie frowns, gently pulling the duvet back to get a look.
“Did you hurt it?” Eddie asks, his hand instinctively tracing over the scarred skin, searching for any signs of injury.
“No. It always hurts, but today… it’s worse. So much worse.” Buck’s voice cracks, and Eddie’s expression shifts, guilt flashing across his face. He realizes, too late, that he never pressed for details after Buck’s surgeries. Never asked the hard questions. Of course Buck has chronic pain. How had he not seen it?
Eddie stands abruptly, and Buck’s heart sinks. He’s leaving, Buck thinks. This is too much for him. He doesn’t blame Eddie. He lets his head fall back against the pillow, focusing on steadying his breathing. But the pain is too intense. His stomach churns, and he’s grateful he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, throwing up would make this worse.
The sharp, ringing ache fills his ears, and he fights to stay silent, swallowing back any sounds of distress. Maybe the pills he’d taken would kick in soon. He prays for even the smallest relief.
Buck almost screams when the duvet is suddenly moved again. His eyes snap open to see Eddie crouched by the bed, holding a tub of Biofreeze. Eddie carefully lifts Buck’s leg into his lap.
“I’m going to massage this,” Eddie says gently, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ll try to be as careful as I can.”
Buck can only nod.
The first touch makes him whimper, the pain flaring white-hot. Eddie murmurs soothing sounds, his voice a steady balm as his hands work with precision. Buck closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice, the cooling sensation of the cream spreading over his leg. Slowly, the pain ebbs to a more bearable level, and Buck exhales shakily. When Eddie wraps his leg in a heated blanket, the relief is so good that Buck almost moans.
Eddie beams at him, looking so proud of himself, and Buck wants nothing more than to throw his arms around him in gratitude. But he knows better than to risk making the pain in his leg worse.
“How?” Buck manages to ask, his voice hushed.
“Chris had a few flare-ups growing up. I had to learn how to handle them,” Eddie explains with a small smile.
Buck sinks deeper into his pillow, comforted not just by Eddie’s care but by his presence. He hears Eddie stand and, without opening his eyes, he speaks:
“Stay. Just… take a shirt and some sweats from my closet and stay with me.”
Buck would never have asked if the pain weren’t wearing down his defenses. But right now, he doesn’t care about pride. He just wants Eddie to stay.
There’s a pause, and Buck’s heart clenches, certain Eddie will leave. But then he hears the sound of Eddie rummaging through his closet. A moment later, Eddie climbs back into the bed, his warmth settling beside Buck.
Buck shifts instinctively, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. He’ll blame the move on exhaustion later, but right now, it feels like the only thing he can do. Eddie doesn’t push him away. Quite the opposite—he wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, holding him tightly.
─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Buck’s first thought when he wakes up is that the pain it’s going to get worse, much worse, and the longing for Eddie’s help gnaws at him. Eddie had only learned about the chronic pain a few months ago, but in that time, he’d made it so much easier to bear.
Buck fumbles for his phone, squinting at the screen. No messages. His last text to Eddie, sent over 24 hours ago, still sits on read . A message to Chris, sent 10 hours ago, also read, but unanswered. They stopped responding frequently a week ago, but Buck tried. He tried until he finally understood: they were never his to have. Of course, he was temporary. Of course, he would end up alone.
And he makes peace with that. He’ll never let anyone get close again. Maybe he’s just meant to die alone.