Idk what this is but those new stills hurt all three of my feelings so have some angst.
āI donāt understand what happened to us. I donāt understand what changed,ā Buck says, and Eddie freezes.
Because he knows. He knows exactly. Every big moment theyāve shared, the beautiful and the terrible, and all of the little ones in between exist in the back of his mind in one giant tapestry of memory. A pulsing, bleeding heart of a thing that he tries not to look at too closely because the fact that it is always there, so close to the surface, never letting him out of its thrall is sometimes more than he can bear.
Itās been years. Eddieās gotten very used to being in love with Buck. Quietly, achingly in love with Buck, knowing he canāt have him but not being able to stop. Loving Buck doesnāt feel like a choice, itās just a fact of his existence, rooted so deep and taking up so much space that Eddie can hardly recall being without it, the person he was beforeābefore Buck, before LA and the 118, before tsunamis and shootings and lightning strikes. There are days when loving Buck overwhelms. When he can hardly breathe for the all-consuming nature of it. When the want is so fierce that he can taste it on his tongue. Most of the time though, itās manageable. Like a radio on in the background, volume low enough that Eddie can ignore it. He can be almost clinical about it: factāhe is in love with Buck, factāBuck is never going to love him back. Itās been years, so Eddie knows exactly how to handle these inconvenient truths, knows how to handle himself, has gotten used to them. He never expected anything to change, assumed that nothing could surprise him after so long.
But. Buck stood next to him in a cemetery and started talking about a woman he had only just metāa strangerāseeing him, understanding him like no one else, and Eddieā
Something in him broke. Some fragile bit of hope he hadnāt even realized he was harboring shattered, the shards slicing him to bloody ribbons.
And all he could really think was, Enough. Enough now.
Things changed then. Heās changed. Their relationship has changed. And heās been telling himself thatās a good thing. Itās good, necessary even.
But Eddie doesnāt know how to deal with this. He doesnāt know what to say when Buck is sitting in front of him asking about it point blank while looking like a kicked puppy.
Part of him is angry. He resents being in this position, resents how long itās taken Buck to say anything, resents knowing he canāt explain himself without revealing things he never wanted to. Mostly though, he resents the fact that after months of workādrawing a line in the sand and dating someone else, pulling away in an effort to establish real boundaries that might let him move onāhe is still as much in love with Buck as ever.
Mostly though, heās just tired.
āWeāre still friends, Buck,ā Eddie finally manages to say. āThat hasnāt changed.ā
āBut something is different,ā Buck insists. āIfāyou would tell me if I did something, wouldnāt you?ā
Eddie drags a hand over his face, resisting the urge to touch his chest where a dull ache has bloomed behind his sternum.
āYou havenāt done anything wrong,ā he replies. Itās not an answer, not to the question Buck actually asked, but itās as much of one as Eddie thinks he can give. And itās the truthāBuck hasnāt done anything wrong. Itās not a crime not to love someone.
āButāā
āBuck.ā Eddieās tone snaps, raw and sharp and jagged. It sounds foreign to his own ears, an unacceptable loss of control, but he is fraying badly at the seams and needs out of this conversation.
A stricken look crosses Buckās face, and Eddie forces his voice to gentle as he quietly adds, āPlease.ā
Please drop it. Please donāt push. Please donāt pull this thread.
Please let me go. Just let me go. Please.
Silence stretches between them for a long moment as Buckās eyes scan Eddieās face. But finally, as if he heard all the different things packed into that one syllable, Buck nods once.
āOkay.ā
