wildwildsoul💋

maddie blinks, face shifting into something next to sympathy and understanding, and says, “i know.”

he tells her everything. by the time he’s spiraling into eight different ways to sunday that karen’s coworker could end up being eddie’s soulmate all because buck screwed up his one chance, maddie cuts him off.

“buck—back around when you started dating tommy, i told you something.” she pauses, pointed, and buck takes a breath. “i told you that if you had something to tell eddie, that you would… but it would be in your own time.”

buck swallows. maddie nods.

“i think you’ve found your time.”

“but maddie, he’s on a date—”

“evan.” there’s no misinterpreting the breadth of meaning beneath her tone. “go to him.”

and so he does. he’s skidding down the walkway and hopping in his truck cartoonishly fast, eddie’s location blinking away on his phone at some restaurant on the outskirts of the city, screen brightness near illuminating the cab in the evening shadow. seconds or lightyears could have passed by by the time he’s veering into a parallel spot on the street, crooked and careless, a drizzle beginning to dot the windshield, heart thumping desperately in his chest and whooshing through his eardrums. he crashes through the front door, entrance bell clattering, breath heaving, and—

“…buck?”

the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, bewildered and confused and a touch rightfully angry, cheeks flushed and hair carefully swept away from his face, deep burgundy button down collar flared open to the third button, st. christopher’s medallion winking under the low light.

“eddie.”

he had more to say, rehearsed it to all hell and jumbled in his head on repeat on the drive there, but it’s all stuck in his throat. eddie’s date—john, or ron, or don, whoever he is—is looking between them, expression neutral if a little curious. buck disregards him. tries again.

“i—don’t. don’t finish this date.”

eddie’s annoyance flares, then, a fire of challenge in his eyes, hurt and defiance and something else so close to hope that it burns at the back of buck’s throat and behind his eyes until he can taste it.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“eddie, please. just—don’t.”

suddenly eddie’s storming past him, linen napkin fluttering from the table to the empty seat of his chair before plopping to the ground, an air of date night cologne and pomade clouding buck’s senses until all that remains is a homing beacon pulling him after eddie. he follows the tinkle of the bell at the door and shoulders past the glass before it closes.

rain’s coming down heavy, now. he wades through it, sweatshirt soaking and dampening his undershirt to stick to his skin, and catches eddie’s shoulder before he can make it to his truck.

“what?” eddie asks. he has to speak up over the rain. it’s meant to be sharp, but it’s too weak to come across right. buck’s heart clenches, quick and painful.

“i’m sorry,” buck emphasizes, tightening his grip just a little harder, pressing the apology into the meat of eddie’s flesh through the sodden layer of his shirt.

eddie’s jaw tightens.

“i’m an idiot.” buck continues. eddie’s eyes shimmer bright, even through the rain, and his brow twitches. he remains silent.

“it’s—” buck’s words get caught in his throat again, and he can’t avoid how they break on the next breath. “it’s always been you.” he swallows. “it’ll always be you.”

then eddie’s fingers are twisting in the neckline of his hoodie, nails brushing slick skin, and buck shifts his hand from eddie’s shoulder to the perfect cut of his freshly shaven jaw to cradle his face just as their lips slot together.

thunder rumbles in the distance. the rain hammers on, and the smell of petrichor permeates.

buck licks salt from between the cradle of eddie’s lips and is sure it’s a mix of their tears.