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He felt the bed dip, as Tommy rolled to the edge and sat up. He listened to the sound of the duvet, as Tommy pushed it off. He wasn't sure if Tommy knew he was awake, but it wouldn't make a difference either way. Tommy would get up, use the bathroom, and leave, like every night before.
Buck wasn't sure who to blame. He should have stopped it. Tommy should have stopped it. They never should have begun in the first place.
He heard the front door close behind Tommy, and breathed a little easier. He got up to lock it, before he went back to sleep. Buck rolled into the spot Tommy vacated, breathed in the smell of him.
Sometimes he wondered how he still smelled the same. The Tommy that kept falling into his bed, was a shell of the person he'd been, when they were together. They barely talked these days, only logistics.
I have a shift.
I have a date later.
We have to be quick, I'm babysitting in an hour.
They hadn't resorted to hooking up in cars yet, but Buck had a feeling it was on the horizon. Every moment of every day, he was calculating if he had the time to meet up. He felt twenty-six all over again, desperately looking for anyone to touch him.
It was like sleeping with a ghost. Tommy knew all the right things to do, but there was nothing there. Buck didn't remember the last time he had an orgasm that felt satisfying, or the last time he touched himself.
They used to spend as long as they could, dragging it out, but they'd turned it into something else. They got each other off with such efficiency, Buck wasn't sure he could even call it sex at this point.
*
He got up hours earlier than he needed to, so he could drive to Tommy's house, get off, and get to work on time.
Tommy woke up just long enough to fuck him through the mattress. He was halfway asleep by the time Buck pulled his pants back on.
He didn't know why he kept doing it. It wasn't worth it, it had never been worth it. The last time that felt like anything, was that first time at Eddie's place. His place.
No, it was still Eddie's place, didn't matter how long he stayed there, it wasn't his. Tommy was right about that. And he couldn't even tell him. Tommy wouldn't be happy about being right.
*
Eating lunch, at the big table in the loft at the station, Buck stared off into space. He'd done a lot of stupid shit in his life, but this was at the top. He glanced at Bobby, at the head of the table. He didn't need to ask for his advice, he already knew what it would be.
Buck would say, ”I slept with Tommy and said some things I didn't mean. Or maybe I did, but he misunderstood, and when I went to his place to explain it, I couldn't get the words out. Tommy looked at me and I saw him shut down. I don't think I've ever seen a person do that before. But we had sex again. I don't think he wanted to. I didn't want to, but I did it anyway. We're still having sex, and I don't think either one of us wants to. But I can't stop.”
If Bobby wasn't too horrified to speak, he would say, ”Talk to him.”
It sounded simple enough, and he'd tried. He'd tried so many fucking times, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing what they had. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was what he had. You wouldn't mean to hung over him like an anvil. Because he was right. Buck didn't mean to do it, but he was hurting Tommy. He was hurting both of them and it wasn't on purpose.
Buck reached under the table, fingers skimming along the side of his thigh. Tommy had left a bruise somewhere. He found the sore spot and dug his thumb into it. It was fading, like all the others. Tommy didn't used to leave marks, not unless Buck begged him to.
*
Ravi pulled him aside, like Bobby, Hen and Chimney had, before him, asking if things were OK. Buck pasted on a smile and said he was fine, just busy. Rattled off a couple of hobbies he'd supposedly picked up, and walked away before Ravi could poke holes in his story.
*
The first car hookup happened not long after that. Tommy's truck was too small to fuck in, but they made do – they had to. Between Tommy's air time and Buck's extra shifts, their schedules didn't match. It was the car or nothing, and nothing wasn't an option.
*
He took a photo of Tommy's teeth marks, in the bathroom at work. One of the canines looked like it might bruise. He dug a finger into the divot and wondered why he was doing this. He felt hollowed out.
Buck had had a lot of different relationships over the years. Girlfriends, women he hooked up with at parties, booty calls, friends with benefits, one night stands. Tommy didn't fit into any of those categories.
He'd never experienced this before. This compulsion to go back, to hold on. He'd wanted to, but he'd never actually done it. Tommy wasn't the first ex he'd had sex with after the fact, but the others had felt different. There'd been a connection, a will to try again, or to see if the spark was still there. Sometimes it was simply a goodbye. With Tommy, it was none of those things.
Back when Bobby's alcoholism first came to light, he'd done a lot of research on it. He hadn't known a thing about it. It was a long time ago, but he still remembered a few things. Reading about self harm, had almost sent him into a tailspin. He'd thought it was simple, that self harm was an intentional act. Intent had very little to do with it. Buck had never had the thought I want to hurt myself, yet he'd been doing it his whole life.
*
Buck wasn't sure he felt alive anymore. Not unless Tommy was touching him. Tommy's hands rasped through the hair on his thighs, as he pushed Buck's jeans down. Buck was wearing the little briefs Tommy loved the most, but it didn't matter, not when they were fucking in Eddie's house. Tommy refused to call it anything else. It was driving Buck up the wall, but he wasn't wrong; it was Eddie's house.
*
Things weren't better at Tommy's house, but it was the only place Tommy allowed Buck to fuck him. Only on the couch, never on the bed. The couch was comfortable for most things, but not for this. It was too small and too cramped to get leverage, their limbs were too long, someone was always halfway on the floor, no matter how tightly they held on.
And Tommy wouldn't look at him. His eyes were closed or his head was conveniently in the wrong position for their eyes to meet.
Are you ashamed of me? Buck thought, looking at a book discarded on the side table, receipt pinched between the pages. Are you ashamed of us? Of what we do to each other?
Tommy reached back, grabbing the back of Buck's head, giving him no choice but to pant into the back of Tommy's neck.
*
Ravi invited him out. He should be making an effort to remember the names of Ravi's friends, but instead, he spent the night glued to his phone, hoping Tommy would reply, and give him an excuse to cut the night short.
”Are you seeing someone?”
Buck looked up from his phone. ”Sort of,” he said and gave Ravi a crooked smile.
Ravi looked at him for an extended moment, then nodded over Buck's shoulder. ”Amrita is your age and she's been looking at you all night,” he said pointedly. ”If you feel like putting your phone down.”
He should've paid more attention during the introductions. He felt like an asshole, putting his phone in his pocket under Ravi's watchful eye.
”Which one is Amrita again?”
*
Tommy's car wasn't getting any bigger. Buck didn't know why Tommy was awake in the middle of the night, didn't know why he'd replied, didn't know where he came from – but Tommy said he had the time, and Buck said goodbye to Amrita before either of them could change their mind.
Buck was neither drunk nor sober. The streetlight they were parked under was broken. Tommy's sweatpants were pooled around his knees. Buck's overshirt was somewhere in the footwell.
Tommy held him like he was about to disappear from his arms. Buck was leaving his fingerprints on every smooth surface within reach.
Tommy could probably taste his last drink. Something fruity Amrita had suggested. Maybe he could smell her on his skin. She was sweet. Very tactile. She'd grabbed his arm when he made her laugh.
He wondered what Tommy was thinking; if he noticed, if he cared at all.
*
”I want you,” he gasped into Tommy's neck. He snuck it in as often as he could, with the hope that Tommy would pick it up and respond, but he didn't. The call and response between them was gone. They didn't see each other anymore. Buck tried, but he knew it was slipping away. Tommy was turning into an idea, instead of a fully fledged person, and there was nothing Buck could do to stop it.
He wasn't holding on, he was refusing to let go.
*
He was losing himself as much as he was losing Tommy. The face he saw in the rearview mirror, in the chrome of the engine, in the reflection of Chimney's sunglasses, wasn't his own. The person looking back at him was tired and disengaged, without desires and needs. Food was fuel, self care was maintenance. He wasn't present in any part of his life, when he constantly had one foot out the door, on the off chance Tommy was available.
*
He was blowing off babysitting duty. It was happening often enough, Maddie was starting to suspect he was seeing someone. She didn't ask out right and Buck pretended he was too stupid to pick up on the subtle prodding.
Wrapped around Tommy, moments before completion, Buck wondered why he was chasing something that was going nowhere, instead of being with his family. Jee-Yun got upset the last time he declined. Maddie got upset the time before that, but that had more to do with her plans, and less to do with Buck.
*
He wanted to stay. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to stay, to get back into bed. It wasn't part of the deal, but he didn't want to leave. They'd never said the rules out loud, even though they both knew they were there.
They didn't stay. Neither one of them got to stay.
He wanted to cry, could see the tears well in his own eyes, as he stood over Tommy's bathroom sink, wash cloth in hand. Tommy's come was running down the inside of his leg. They only wore condoms half the time. They both knew better.
They were putting each other at risk. Buck wasn't seeing anyone else, but Tommy didn't know that. Buck didn't know if Tommy was seeing other people and he was too afraid to ask.
*
The sheets smelled like sweat. Tommy was shaking. Buck didn't notice at first. Tommy's hands were moving around too much, but then they settled on his shoulders, and it was impossible not to notice. Tommy's bedroom closed in around them. Buck's shirt was on the floor in the hallway, Tommy's was stuck on the bed, halfway off the mattress.
Tommy's eyes were far away, which was scarier than the shaking hands.
”I can't do this.”
Buck didn't roll off of him, instead, he got up on his hands and knees, lifting himself above Tommy's body.
”I can't keep doing this.”
Buck nodded. ”Alright. OK.”
Tommy scrambled out from under him, scooting up to the headboard, putting him in the furthest corner of the mattress. With his knees pulled to his chest, he looked remarkably small.
Buck didn't go quite as far, but moved to the opposite corner, at the foot of the bed. He watched Tommy's eyes dart back and forth, not settling anywhere.
”I hate the way I touch you. I hate myself for touching you this way.”
Buck didn't know what he meant. If he really meant touch or if he meant sex. ”Do you hate me?”
”No,” Tommy shook his head. ”If I hated you, we wouldn't be here.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. ”I could never hate you.”
The sheet between them fractured like a fault line. Buck was too much of a coward to be the one to bring it up. This thing between them had been consuming him since it began, but now that the moment was here, he didn't know what to do. Tommy didn't say the right words; they didn't correspond to any of Buck's openers.
”How do I fix this?” Buck asked. Tommy looked at him then. ”I can't–” the words wouldn't leave his throat. They got stuck, at the back. ”I can't lose you.” It came out in a rush, before they had a chance to get stuck, ”I'd rather have this, than nothing at all.”
Tommy stumbled out of bed, rounded the foot of it, where Buck was sitting, and pushed open the window. He leaned on the windowsill, breathing fast and shallow.
Buck watched his shoulders tremble with every heaving breath. At least he didn't have to worry about the window. Tommy's house didn't have a second floor. If he jumped out the window, he'd fall two feet into a flowerbed.
Tommy kneeled. The sill was low enough for him to rest his face on his arms. ”Everytime we do this, I feel like I'm dying.”
Buck closed his eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest. ”I want you,” he said, as if it mattered, as if it made a difference.
Tommy laughed. A brittle thing. ”Right.”
”Tommy, please.”
”I think about you,” he breathed. ”I think about you, every moment, of every day.”
Buck slipped off the bed with a thump, landing heavily on the floor. ”Tommy.” He crawled to him. ”Tommy, please. Tell me how to fix this.”
”I don't– I don't see how we could possibly fix this.”
”Anything. I'll do anything. Tell me what to do.”
The effort was obvious, as Tommy turned and sat down. Buck hoped this was the first and only time he'd have to witness the look on Tommy's face.
”What're we doing?” Tommy asked quietly.
If Tommy asked him to leave, he couldn't. There was no way Buck was getting up and leaving. If he got up and left, he was never coming back, and he couldn't do that. ”Please.”
”I can't be with you, not like this. I want to, but it's,” he exhaled shakily. ”It's killing me, Evan, I can't do this.”
”It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to work it out.”
”We can't work this out! Not now!”
”Of course we can!”
Tommy's lower eyelids were heavy with moisture, and he was doing nothing to hide it. ”How am I supposed to be with you, knowing I've done this to you? That I've touched you this way? How am I supposed to come back from that? How am I ever supposed to look at you again?”
”I asked you to,” Buck was quick to say. ”I asked you to touch me.”
Tommy's eyes welled and spilled over, twin tears tumbling down his cheeks, without so much as a twitch. ”Not like this. You didn't ask for this.” His eyes were far away.
”I don't care.” He'd barely moved, before Tommy flinched away. Buck held still. The back of his throat felt tight. He'd never seen Tommy afraid. ”I don't care what we did. OK? I don't. The only thing I care about is you.”
Tommy curled in on himself. He pulled his knees to his chest, bowed his head, and cowered under his arms.
Tommy didn't see it coming, so the flinch was harder this time, but Buck told himself it wasn't personal. He touched Tommy's shins and tucked his head as close to Tommy's as he could. The top of his head pressed to Tommy's forearms.
”I don't care,” he said again. ”Alright? I mean that. I want you and I want us. That hasn't changed, it's not going to change.”
”Don't say that.” It was barely more than an exhalation.
”I love you, Tommy. I have never loved anyone or anything the way that I love you.”
”Please, stop.”
”I'm here, because having a fraction of you, is better than nothing at all. It fucking hurts, but it's better than being without you.” He didn't realise he was crying, until Tommy's hand found the back of his neck. ”Please.”
”Stop talking.”
He closed his eyes. ”Please, Tommy. Please. I miss you. I want to be here with you, always, pl–” the last please stuck in his throat and refused to move.
Both of them were trembling and barely breathing.
”Why did you have to do this,” Tommy said so quietly, Buck almost didn't hear it. ”I was fine on my own. I wasn't happy, but I was fine.”
Buck watched a tear trail down the side of his own nose. Any moment now, Tommy was going to say he wished they never met, and Buck had to find a way to survive that.
”I hate your friends. I hate your fucking firehouse. I hate the way they make you feel. I hate that you don't get that you deserve better. You deserve better than them, and better than me.”
Buck looked at Tommy's pants, at the darker spots where his tears had soaked the fabric. ”What?”
”You need to get in your car and leave this fucking place, before it kills you.”
Buck sat up, grabbing Tommy's hand before he could take it away. ”I'm not going anywhere without you. You're my person.”
Tommy made a horrible little choking sound. He took a deep breath. And then another one. He raised his head, eyes just as afraid as they were before. ”You're too young to settle,” he muttered and pulled Buck close, by the back of the neck. Tommy didn't say it, but Buck heard it all the same. You're too young to settle for me.
The position was horribly uncomfortable. Every muscle in his body was screaming to be stretched out correctly, but there was no way in hell he was moving. Balanced awkwardly between Tommy's knees, Buck grabbed the windowsill behind Tommy, for some semblance of balance. ”Did I ever tell you I get flashbacks?”
Tommy pulled him closer still, guiding Buck's head to the crook of his neck. He sniffled loudly in Buck's ear, before saying, ”PTSD?”
Buck shifted his knee, but it didn't ease things. ”I got the extended version, C-PTSD. Not to ruin your boy toy fantasy, but I also have a cane. My leg was pulverised. I feel eighty years old for a solid ten minutes every single morning.”
”That's not– That's not what I'm saying.”
”Isn't it? You think I want someone better. Someone younger, someone – I have no idea what you think I want, because what I want is you.” He wiped his eyes on Tommy's shoulder. ”I'm fucked up, OK? Clearly. I'm too much, I'm too impulsive, I'm reckless, I'm dumb, I'm–”
”Stop talking.” Tommy's fingers dug into the back of his hair. ”You're none of those things.”
”Tommy, please.”
Tommy sniffed hard a couple of times. He sat up, pulling Buck's face out of his neck. His thumbs wiped the tears from Buck's cheeks and brushed his hair back. ”You're exactly who you're supposed to be.”
Buck put his hands on top of Tommy's, so they wouldn't leave his face. ”Not without you. Everything is better with you. Everything.”
Tommy pulled him into a proper hug. It hurt like hell. His ankle, his hips, his lower back was screaming, but he'd rather lose his leg, than let go. He didn't know just how much he'd missed feeling Tommy's skin, without getting his dick out.
”I want you,” Buck said. ”I want us. I don't care about anything else. And I'll leave, if you really want me to, but not without you. You have to come with me.”
”You'd leave everything behind, just because I said so?” Tommy said, not believing it for a second.
”If you're with me, I'm not leaving anything behind.”
Tommy huffed and sniffled. It sounded less wet. He put his hands on Buck's shoulders, urging him back.
Something twinged in his ankle. He flinched hard enough to send himself sprawling backwards. ”Ow, fuck.”
Tommy seized the opportunity to wipe furiously at his face.
Wincing, Buck sat up. ”I don't care what we do, I just want to be with you.”
Tommy sighed. His eyes were still welling a bit, but the fight had gone out of his shoulders. ”How? How would we do that?”
”You let me stay,” Buck said, and scooted forward. He fumbled for Tommy's hand, the one with tears smeared along the back. ”You let me stay the night and we talk about it.”
”Just like that?”
”I'll cry again, but yeah.”
Tommy looked at him for a long, silent moment. ”You look pretty when you cry.”
”You look pretty all the time.”
Tommy squeezed his fingers.