#k bye

#sendbiceps - feeling bad? maybe some biceps can make it all better? these guys are willing to comply. -> SMAU FICS MASTERLIST!

a/n : heh, shoulda seen me as i went thru pinterest to find these.

i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible! sorry if i messed it up i tried my best

also idk if anyone else is on the taglist... lmk u wanna be here!!

DECEMBER 2008 - JULY 2017 || apple music | spotify

NEEDY - text messages w the jjk men -> SMAU FICS MASTERLIST

a/n was originally gonna do smth else but lowkey might turn that into a series so stay ready for dat in the future hehe

I was just thinking, we could make plans I'd steal the moonlight just to see you dance All for a moment, away from our friends But I let the roses cut up my hands And I'm alone again

The knock isn’t loud—it’s just persistent.

Tommy opens the door, and Buck’s standing there, pale and drawn, like he hasn’t slept in days. Like grief is stitched into the shadows under his eyes.

“I can’t do it,” Buck mutters. No hello. No warning. “I’ve looked at sixteen places. Every one of them feels like someone else’s life. Cold. Pretend. Or just… empty.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything. Buck pushes in without being asked, and Tommy steps aside, too concerned to argue as buck drops his duffle on the floor like it weighs more than it should.

“I don’t want stainless steel everything and white walls. I don’t want a backyard for barbecues I’ll never have.” His voice is quieter now, thinner. “And I sure as hell don’t want to live with Eddie... A-and Maddie’s got enough going on with the baby. And—”

“Congrats, by the way."

“Y-Yeah,” Buck nods, like he forgot. “uh sorry, yeah T-Thanks.”

Then his eyes lift, slow and tired, landing on Tommy

“And you have a spare room.”

Tommy echoes it back—almost breathless. “I... I have a spare room.”

“I’ll take it,” Buck says almost too quickly. “J-just until I figure my shit out. I can’t keep living out of my car, and I—” his voice catches, raw and desperate, “—I just need somewhere that doesn’t feel like a waiting room.”

Tommy's walking toward him now, slow and quiet. Their breath mingles in the narrow hallway, warm and too close.

“You can take the spare room,” he says gently, watching Buck’s face.

Buck doesn’t back away. “Y-yeah…”

Tommy’s voice drops “Do you really want the spare room, Evan?”

No—not the spare room. The warmth. The safety. The quiet chaos of a place actually lived in. The creak in the hallway floor.

Tommy...

He doesn't want a room. He wants this. Wants someone who won't flinch when he falls apart. Someone who won't try to fix the silence—just stay in it with him. For him.

For him...

He wants to say all that... He should say all that.

maybe someday he will.

But not tonight.