you act like you're expendable. but you're wrong.

And— fuck, fuckfuckfuck god damn it because why— why him, they were suppose to get out, all of them; no one was supposed to be left behind and it was supposed to be okay and they were supposed to go home but nothing is okay and there is no home anymore and Bobby is dead, he's dead and Buck wants to scream, Bobby is dead and there are tiny little hundreds of spiders crawling beneath Buck's skin and Buck wants to dig the tip of his fingers and tear his flesh apart, his head throbs and Buck wants to claw his eyes out, there's blood rushing through his ears, kicking against his eardrums like thumpthumpthumpthump and Buck wants to rip them off. There is a cold sensation seeping inside his bones, freezing his insides and he's fucking trembling and it doesn't stop and he feels like he's going to explode except he doesn't.

Everything hurts, and Buck wants to run back inside, grip Bobby by the shoulder and shake him until he wakes up. He wants to shake Bobby hard and scream by his ear until he wakes up and tells Buck to shut up because Bobby can't die.

Not now. Not like this. It's just too soon. Too soon and Bobby can't go.

It's too fucking soon but no matter what Buck does, Bobby isn't going to wake up.

The earth will fall, but Bobby isn't going to wake up.

Eventually, Buck's screams fade away, but so does the warmth that once bloomed in his chest and wrapped him around like a blanket.

Now he just feels empty. He just feels numb.

"Evan."

A hand reaches for his arm. A figure crouching down in front of him and hands— shaky hands on his arms.

Tommy.

Buck's eyes sting too much for him to see clearly.

"Evan."

He doesn't recognize his own voice. It sounds weird, raw. "H-he—"

"I know."

No, no, he has to "He—" His throat burns. His mouth is dry. "Bobb—"

Bobby's dead.

"I know." Tommy says. He doesn't sound good, either.

He sounds tired.

Buck feels a squeeze on his arms, the good kind, but everything's just too much. Everything's a blur like he's floating. And he's just... there.

Tommy's fingers fold around Buck's bicep, gently urging him up. "We have to get out."

Tommy is right. They have to get out.

The kids, someone has to tell them.

He has to call Eddie. He should be the one to call Eddie.

Buck has to be okay. He has to get up and go, because that's what Bobby wanted. He has to get up.

He doesn't know how but eventually, with trembling legs, Buck leans on Tommy and slowly rises up on his feet.

His whole body burns, his head hurts, his heart aches but Buck gets up.