#userster

He sniffles once, and the wave crests and breaks. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and takes a trembling breath but the tears slip past anyway, and suddenly he’s crying for no good goddamn reason on his stupid couch in his stupid apartment all by himself. Buck scrubs at his face with his sleeves, but all that does is get his hoodie wet. He can’t get himself to stop. He feels pathetic. He wants a fucking hug. 

The screen of his phone is blurred and warped by his tears so he swipes at them again, almost angrily, until he can see his texts. Maddie’s on shift, so he can’t ask her. Buck doesn’t think he could bring himself to admit this surge of whatever-the-hell he’s feeling to his sister, anyway. He’s too embarrassed. But Eddie, though—Eddie gives fantastic hugs, and Buck knows he’s home, because they’d gotten off a shift together only a few hours before. 

Buck has the question typed and sent before he can overthink it. mind if i come over?

Door’s always open, Eddie answers not even a minute later. And then, Everything ok?

It’s not. It should be. Nothing’s even wrong, really. It’s just not right. How does he even begin to explain that? 

Buck tries to take a breath deep enough to steady himself, only half succeeding. After a moment, he settles on; could just really use a hug.

Get over here then, Eddie texts back. 

And Buck doesn’t have to be told twice, with the promise of some company. He sticks his phone in his pocket and heaves himself to his feet. Another swipe of his sleeve across his face ensures that he doesn’t look like a complete mess, but as he locks his door and heads for the parking lot, he still hopes he doesn’t end up running into a neighbour. 

He gets enough of a handle on himself on the drive over that by the time he’s pulling into Eddie’s driveway, Buck just feels a little ridiculous. He’s still sniffling lightly, but his tears have dried. He feels shaky and scraped out and raw, still a little off-kilter and a lot embarrassed. But he’s here. 

The door is unlocked, just like Eddie had promised, and Buck lets himself in. He moves quietly so as not to wake Christopher, who he expects is already asleep by now. It’s late. He might feel bad about that, if this were anyone but Eddie. 

Eddie’s house, even in the quiet, doesn’t feel oppressive. It doesn’t feel cold, or lonely. It’s nothing like his apartment. It’s everything he needs right now. 

Buck rounds the corner and there’s Eddie, just turning away from the sink to face him as he steps into the kitchen. The dishes look half done, but Eddie ignores them in favour of grabbing the dishtowel he’d draped over his shoulder and drying off his hands. 

“Hey,” Buck says. He curls his fingers into the ends of his hoodie sleeves, and tries for a smile. 

Eddie takes in his appearance—and what a sight he must make, right now—and tosses the towel to the side. It lands on the counter, missing the edge of the sink by a hair. 

“Come ‘ere,” Eddie says, and he opens his arms like he’s inviting Buck in and it’s—it’s everything Buck needs right now, no matter how silly he felt a moment ago. 

He practically dives at Eddie, wrapping his arms under Eddie’s and curling as close as he can get, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder. Buck takes a deep, steady breath, and lets it out slow. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders and gives him a little squeeze. The strange, unexplained tension Buck had been carrying all night finally starts to ease. He melts into Eddie’s embrace, soaking in his best friend’s comfort. 

“Thank you,” he says, words muffled against Eddie’s shirt. 

“No need,” Eddie says. “You’ve got me, Buck. Any time.”