#deafgaynerd

He winces and focuses on pulling out of Adriana’s weirdly complicated neighborhood instead of replying. It’s going to take them 30 minutes to get to Christopher’s school, which is going to make them 10 minutes late for the parent-teacher conference, which isn’t the biggest deal but Eddie’s trying to make a good impression.

It’s been a hard year for him and for Christopher and somehow everyone at his school is intimately aware of that. He’s just trying to avoid the pitying looks he gets from teachers and parents alike. They’re the exact kind of looks everyone gave him after Shannon died and he doesn’t really need that right now—nobody’s died. Eddie’s just…going through some life changes.

“Why am I going with you to this parent-teacher conference anyways?” Adriana asks, sounding at least 15 years younger than she actually is.

“Don’t you want to know how your nephew’s doing in school?” Eddie deflects. He sees Adriana raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, but keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

“Don’t you have an aid that normally does this kind of thing with you?”

“Carla,” Eddie corrects, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “Her name is Carla. And she’s busy tonight.”

He wants her, more than anything, to drop it there. He’s not ashamed to admit that Adriana was literally his last and only option—but it does sting a little bit that he’s had to resort to this. And he’s not really trying to get into it right now. Unfortunately, Adriana is his sister and sisters have such a knack for—

“Don’t you normally drag Buck with you to everything?”

“I don’t drag him anywhere,” Eddie mutters, a little too defensive. He pulls up to a red light and runs a hand through his hair. He’s pretty sure he put too much gel in it tonight and it feels weird and sticky between his fingers. “But, uh, he’s busy too.”

It’s not—a lie, exactly. But Eddie never actually asked him. He just figured…safe enough to assume.

“You’re still not talking, huh?” Adriana digs, always too wise and knowing than will ever be good for either one of them.

“We talk,” Eddie says. Except they haven’t really. The last time they talked was three weeks ago when Buck sent Eddie a picture of Jee-Yun with mashed sweet potato all over her face and Eddie had replied I see the resemblance now.

He’s not going to admit to the number of times he’s opened their text thread just to see the red heart Buck had put next to that message in lieu of a response. He’s not going to admit that he stares at it longingly for several more minutes than is strictly appropriate for best friends turned ex-coworkers turned…whatever they are now, mentally willing Buck to say literally anything else instead of texting or calling him himself, like a proper, well-functioning adult.

He’s certainly not going to admit any of this to his sister, who he braved afternoon traffic for just so that he wouldn’t have to go to the parent-teacher conference alone and field questions like so no Buck today? or Christopher’s been handling the divorce surprisingly well, how do you make it work?—that was something one of the PTA moms had actually said to his face during their last meeting. It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for Eddie to work out how to explain that he and Shannon weren’t divorced—she’s dead—before the woman had clarified that she was talking about Buck.

Eddie hadn’t known how to respond to that.

Hence, his baby sister in his passenger seat because she, while exceptionally good at getting under Eddie’s skin and pestering the shit out of him, is also exceptionally good at making everything about her and stealing the hearts of anyone and everyone who’s ever been near her.

This is a masterful plan, actually, and Eddie’s actually very smart and competent for coming up with it.

“I can’t believe you did this again, Eddie,” Adriana says, leaning back against the door and rolling her eyes like talking to Eddie is some burdensome task that she’s legally obligated to do. And Eddie should, after 30 years of knowing Adriana, know better than to rise to the bait.

Against his better judgment, he asks anyways, “What exactly did I do again?”

“You sabotaged another relationship because you’re allergic to talking about anything that matters.”

Eddie’s hands tighten on the steering wheel again. He glances at his phone. They’re only 5 minutes out from the school. They can totally make it there without arguing.

“You did it with mom and dad, you did it with Shannon, hell, you probably did it with Ana, and now you’re doing it with Buck too—”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t think we can blame my relationship with mom and dad solely on me, okay, they started this shit. Second, none of those relationships are the same thing. Buck and I are not—we’re not—we’re just friends. Friends have rough patches.”

“Friends have rough patches,” Adriana fires back at him and Eddie braces himself in his seat for what’s about to follow. “Edmundo, you got shot in front of him less than a year ago. Have you ever talked to him about that?”

“We’ve talked,” Eddie defends again, but his voice sounds small even to himself.

“Pepa told me that he was covered in your blood. She said that Ana sat by your side in the hospital for days while Buck slept on your couch and took care of Christopher, made sure he ate and got to school on time, and went to bed every night—you’re trying to tell me those relationships are different? Maybe they are, but definitely not in the way that you think.”

Eddie shrinks down in his seat as he pulls into the school parking lot, though at this point he’s genuinely considering turning the car around and taking Adriana back home immediately. He’s not really sure where all of the anger is coming from, but he’s also not entirely sure that he doesn’t deserve it.

“God, Eddie, I wish you would just man up for once.”

“Okay,” Eddie reels back in his seat, feeling like he’s been slapped. “Now, you just sound like dad.”

“At least dad would actually tell us if he got shot and we wouldn’t have to hear about it five days later from Pepa.”

Okay. Okay.

Eddie doesn’t think that’s necessarily true, but he gets the point.

He pulls into a parking spot, letting his hands rest on the steering wheel for a moment while he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, attempting to collect himself, before he shuts off the engine.

“Adri, I was in the hospital,” He tries, voice wavering no matter how hard he tries to keep it level. He looks over at her in the passenger seat and sees her with her arms folded over her chest, body propped up against the door like she can’t get far enough away from him, her jaw hard, eyes staring out at the rows of cars around them.

Even though she reminds him more and more of their mom every day, Eddie still looks at her and sees the kid he grew up with, too fierce and passionate and stubborn to be matched by either one of their parents—or him.

“She told us days after you had woken up, Eddie,” She says. The slight dip in her voice when she says his name is the only thing that betrays her hurt. “You were already home by the time we found out—you had a fucking welcome home party before we ever found out.”

And that’s—that’s still not necessarily on Eddie. He remembers Buck explaining at some point during the party, when he and Eddie caught a moment alone in the kitchen, that he and Pepa had discussed telling the rest of his family, had considered inviting at least Adriana to the party since she was the closest, but figured it might be too much pressure to put on Eddie so they just—hadn’t.

And Eddie, as much as he understands how that hurts Adriana, was honestly grateful that they had made that decision.

Because as much as Eddie does and always will love his family, his parents are…a lot. And Adriana, being the youngest, will always be the favorite. Whatever she knows, everyone will know, and whatever she does, everyone will want to do too.

If Adriana had been there, his parents would’ve been there, and if his parents had been there, there would’ve been a whole discussion about Christopher and his well-being and his safety and whether or not Eddie was ever fit to be a parent—the answer to which will always be no, according to his parents.

“Adriana,” Eddie begins, running a hand over his face and shifting more in his seat to face her. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. And I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner. But…I’m the one who got shot, okay? That…that’s about me. It’s my…trauma, not anyone else’s.”

Adriana looks at him, her eyes red-rimmed and watery, her mouth doing that thing that Eddie recognizes as his own quirk, her lips pursed and wobbly as she tries not to cry. He wants to reach out and comfort her, take her hand in his and fix all of this, but these wounds run deep and he’s not sure any of it can ever really be fixed.

He’s been trying really hard to be okay with that these days.

“Isn’t it,” Adriana starts, taking a shaky breath and tossing her hair over her shoulder, regaining some composure. “Isn’t it also about the people who love you, Eddie?”

Eddie blinks at her before looking away, worrying his bottom lip.

This is something that Frank has said to him, in different words, a few different times over their sessions together. He’s not sure it really clicked until now.

“Look,” Adriana says, her voice louder and more confident now. Eddie watches her run a hand through her hair before she fixes him with a look that’s fire and water all at once. It feels a little like home. “I’m mad at you for not telling me. And I’m mad at you for almost dying. And if you ever get shot again, I swear, I’m going to kill you myself—but I love you, Eddie. That’s why it hurts. And I know…as much as you want to ignore it…you love Buck, too. And he, for some ungodly reason, loves you too. And I know you. I know what you do when you love people and you’re scared. You push them away. You deserve more than that, Eddie.”

Eddie stares at her and is painfully aware of the fact that he’s crying now in the car in the parking lot of his son’s school with his younger sister in the passenger seat, and this is not going to do anything to assuage the worries and fears of all the other parents and faculty, but he doesn’t really care about any of that right now.

“Who the fuck let you get so smart in your old age?” Eddie says, instead of I’m sorry I scared you, I’ve been scared too, thank you for seeing me, I promise I’m trying, wiping roughly at his eyes.

“Fuck you, also could you pass that message along to Sophia? Because I swear she still treats me like I’m twelve sometimes.”

“That’s because you still act like you’re twelve sometimes.”

“Shut up,” Adriana huffs, reaching over the console to slug Eddie’s arm. “I was trying to be sentimental until you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie laughs, rubbing his arm. “Look, you weren’t my first choice for this, I’ll admit that. But I’m glad you’re here. What do you say we go inside, totally pretend neither one of us has been crying, then go get ice cream after?”

Adriana studies him for a moment, eyes narrow like there’s more she wants to say, but the corner of her lip twitches up anyways.