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He couldn’t breathe.

They were approaching the crash site, and Buck’s heart was in his throat.

He knew.

Bobby was briefing them on the situation – LAFD chopper that went down during patient transport. They’d had to leave the vehicles only a short distance behind them because the pilot had managed to crash into the forest close to a main road.

Lucky, some might say. Skillful, some others.

Buck’s heart was in his throat.

Habor’s captain caught up with them just as Buck was able to see the smoke through the trees. He was a man a little bit older than Bobby with kind eyes and a strict mouth. He nodded at Buck, and Buck nodded back. He couldn’t say anything. His heart was in his throat.

He’d only met Captain West a couple of times when he … when he visited Tommy at Harbor.

Buck could feel Eddie on one side, Hen on the other. Chimney was up ahead, walking a couple steps in front of Bobby. They knew. He knew. No-one said a word.

Until they came closer, and could hear voices. Some of Habor’s people were already there, and there was someone, an all too familiar voice beloved voice shouting orders.

“That fucking lunatic kid is gonna bring me to an early grave,” said Captain West in a breath of what could be exasperation, but sounded more like relief.

Buck’s heart was in his throat. Captain West had said something like that before, about someone. There was only one person that Buck had ever heard him call a lunatic kid.

“Who-” His swallowed. His voice broke. “Who’s the pilot?”

Captain West looked at him with something like pity in his eyes. “I think you know.”

Buck knew. He’d known from the first moment that the call came through – chopper down. In need of immediate backup for patient transport, as well as medical attention for the team. He couldn’t feel his hands.

Then, the trees parted, broken down like twigs, around the mangled corpse of a familiar bright-colored helicopter. A couple of firefighters and medics were rushing around, trying to clear a path.

And … he was there. Tommy. He was bleeding from a head wound, but that didn’t stop him from bodily dragging an unconscious man closer to the next best person to take over. The patient, Buck assumed, barely able to listen to Tommy barking the information before he turned back around to get whoever else was in the chopper out.

The pilot was normally the one with the worst injuries. The pilot was usually the one who didn’t make it out.

Buck couldn’t feel his hands. He felt like he could breathe again, seeing Tommy upright and alive.

“Kinard!” Captain West jogged ahead, leaving the 118 behind to scramble their way across broken tree trunks and helicopter debris.

Buck was close enough to watch Tommy’s face pull into confusion. He seemed to have issues focusing his eyes. Concussion, probably.

A hand clapped Buck on the shoulder, startling him out of whatever thought-process he had. He couldn’t even remember what he was thinking a second ago. He wasn’t fully there.

“Come on,” Hen mumbled to him.

Buck followed her. Tommy didn’t even look at them, was busy digging his team out of his chopper. Buck hadn’t seen him in three weeks, since Tommy had walked away. He’d thought he’d been coping surprisingly well, but now, he realized he wasn’t coping at all.

He shook his head. He couldn’t focus on that. They were broken-up, yes, but this was his job. He wasn’t here to stare at his ex, he was here to save people.

So, he threw himself in, helped the others carry the injured co-pilot and aeromedic away from the smoking hunk of junk. Both of them, as well as the patient, were unconscious, but the patient was obviously in the worst shape. Motorcycle crash, as far as Buck knew.

They made their way away from the crash, closer to the trucks, and Buck had to force himself not to look back. He could hear him, he could hear Tommy behind him, talking to his captain, assuring him that he felt mostly fine, a little dizzy.

His speech was slurring. Liar.

It wasn’t his problem anymore, Buck tried to tell himself. Tommy was a professional, Buck could trust that he would do what was right for everyone in this scenario not in any others, apparently.

Only when the victims were accounted for and sped off to the nearest hospital did Buck allow himself to take a deep breath, as if to steel himself, and turn around.

Tommy was looking at him.

His mouth was pinched, and there was a crease between his eyebrows. The wound on his head was still bleeding sluggishly, red streaking down the side of his face. He blinked a couple of times.

Buck opened his mouth. To do what, he didn’t know. Say something? Scream, yell? Cry? He still couldn’t feel his hands.

Tommy beat him to it. His own mouth opened, he doubled over, and threw up on the ground. For a moment, no-one moved.

Then, Tommy rightened himself up again, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. He looked at Buck for a moment, then gasped, his hand moving to his right side. He stumbled.

Buck would say it was because he was closest like a liar that he immediately rushed forward, sliding to his knees just in time to catch Tommy when he fell.

“Tommy, hey!”

Tommy’s head rolled against Buck’s shoulder. His skin was so white it almost looked green, and his forehead wet with cold sweat. He was breathing through his mouth, heavy and irregular. His eyelids fluttered. Buck moved his arms to try and get a better hold of him, but when he moved his hand across Tommy’s right side, several things happened.

First, Buck felt something hard and jagged. Second, Tommy gasped in pain and twitched, his hand suddenly gripping Buck’s as if to push him away, but then he stopped moving. Third, Buck saw the rapid spread of dark red drenching the blue of Tommy’s flight suit.

He looked up in time to watch Chimney and Hen run to them.

“There’s something stuck in his side,” he warned them. “Probably got dislodged when he carried the others.”

You fucking idiot. The thought crashed through him, vicious and full of rage. But mostly full of fear.

He could only sit and watch Chim and Hen put their work on Tommy. All he could do was hold him, keep him from dropping fully to the ground, even as he went unresponsive. His hand was cold. Buck could feel that.

Buck was on autopilot when Hen told him they had to move Tommy, and now. He was losing too much blood, had probably gotten impaled on some metal piece of his chopper that had broken off in the crash. Shock had kept him from feeling it until it moved enough that the blood could flow out.

Buck didn’t even speak to Bobby, he just jumped into the ambulance with the others. He didn’t let go of Tommy’s slack hand.

“He’s O negative,” he said roughly. “If he needs a transfusion, he-he’s O negative.”

“Good, Buck,” Hen said, then sat him down at the top so he could stare right down at Tommy’s face while she and Chimney worked to stop the bleeding.

He thought back to a conversation months ago, when Tommy had told him his blood type. Buck had said something about him being a universal donor, and Tommy had told him about all the years he couldn’t donate blood and couldn’t really tell anyone why.

That was way back then. When they were getting to know each other. When everything was better.

The beep of the heart monitor was irregular.

He hadn’t seen Tommy in three weeks. He hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. Just his luck that the next time he did, Tommy was injured and bleeding out.

The beep was messing with Buck’s head. He couldn’t concentrate. His eyes lost focus, staring at the red spot slowly drying brown on Tommy’s temple.

The irregular beeping stopped. Not in the way Buck wanted it too. A high note, continuous, final.

“No, no, no,” he muttered. He stared at the heart monitor, at the long line staring back, mocking him. “No, what’s happening?”

Chimney didn’t answer. He swung a leg over Tommy’s hips and jammed his knuckles into his sternum.

“Come on, Tommy, you can’t keep doing this,” he muttered. “How many times am I supposed to save your life?”

Buck’s fingers gripped Tommy’s hand tighter. His eyes did not move away from the monitor. He could watch the way Tommy’s heart was forced to contract in those familiar 104 bpm.

You can’t be doing this, he thought. Not after what you put me through. You don’t get to quit. I still have things to say to you!

If only he hadn’t tried to cope these three weeks. If only he had immediately shown up on Tommy’s doorstep to give him a piece of mind. If for nothing else, then to get his fucking closure. Now, there might not be time.

The human brain could not last long without oxygen. Permanent brain damage started after four minutes. How long had it been? It felt like hours. Buck couldn’t feel his hands. He couldn’t move. He could only stare at the monitor that showed him Chimney working Tommy’s heart because it wasn’t doing it on its own anymore.

“Buck, breathe!” Hen yelled at him suddenly. “We really can’t scrape you off the floor right now, breathe!”

He was breathing, wasn’t he? So what if his breath shuddered and shivered, so what if his inhales were longer than his exhales?

Breathe. As if he could breathe when Tommy wasn’t.

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Tommy coded twice.

One time in the ambulance, where Chimney, with dogged determination, brought him back before they reached the hospital, before that permanent brain damage threshold Buck had been thinking about.

They reached the doors, and Buck barely listened to Chimney and Hen throw out information about Tommy that Buck had given them, robotically answering every question Hen asked him as they neared their destination. Not really paying attention, too busy staring at the up and down on the heart monitor.

Tommy’s heart was beating again. Weak, but it was beating. He was breathing. He was still alive.

It was something that Buck had to remind himself again and again while he sat in the waiting room. He couldn’t even think about going back to work, too frazzled, too afraid that something would happen again. Bobby didn’t even expect him to, just told him to call his sister, and give him a call later.

The others said something encouraging, Buck was sure, but he didn’t hear it. He kept staring at the reception desk as if magically, the surgeon would materialize and tell him everything was okay.

He didn’t call his sister. Chimney did for him, though, because she arrived at one point with a cup of coffee for him. The last time he sat waiting in the hospital and someone had brought him coffee, it was Tommy.

Maddie said nothing, just sat down next to him. They watched the nurses bustling about, patients being wheeled to and fro. There was a moment when several nurses and doctors came rushing around, an urgency in the air that Buck couldn’t find himself to care about.

He would soon find out what that was about, however, and would feel the guilt gnawing at his stomach.

Tommy’s heart stopped again. In surgery, Buck was told. They got him back, apparently pretty quickly, too, but they didn’t know how he would be affected by going into cardiac arrest twice in such a short time.

What they could say was that Tommy’s surgery was a success. He had needed a transfusion, just as Buck had guessed, but he pulled through and was resting now.

That caused a whole new round of problems, however.

“So, where is he? Can I see him?” he asked.

The nurse looked apologetic. Buck already hated it. “Immediate family only, I’m afraid.”

Tommy didn’t have any immediate family. His mother was dead, he was an only child, he sure as hell wouldn’t want his father here. He was in contact with some of his family members, but he wasn’t close with any of them, definitely not close enough for them to fly across the country and sit with him while he was bed-ridden.

“There’s no-one close by,” Buck said, and it wasn’t a lie. “He needs someone with him, please.”

The nurse shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do, honey. We can only try to reach his emergency contact again, but I’ve been told they haven’t picked up so far.”

“Wh-who is his contact? I could try to find them.” Buck didn’t even really want to know. He didn’t want to know who Tommy trusted now, who would be taking care of him in the future.

“Let me see,” she flicked through the papers on her clipboard. “A Mr. Evan Buckley. Maybe you know-”

“That’s me,” Buck interrupted in a breath. “My name- my name is Evan Buckley, that’s me.”

She looked surprised. So was Buck. He truly hadn’t expected to still be Tommy’s emergency contact. Tommy had told him he’d put him down, four months into their relationship, when Tommy had to stay at the hospital for a night for observation, and he’d asked if Buck would be okay with it.

Buck had accepted immediately.

He’d thought Tommy would have already taken care of this. Maybe he just hadn’t come around to it, yet? It’s only been three weeks, after all. Maybe, a little voice in Buck’s head whispered, he didn’t want to change it. Maybe he’s suffering just as much as you.

He waved that thought away. The thought of Tommy suffering through this made him … made him angry. Tommy was the one who put them through this, after all. How hard could this be for him?

Anger and despair and fear swirled around in his head when the nurse finally led him down the hall to the room Tommy was in. All of that left him when he saw him, because he wasn’t able to feel anything at all.

Tommy- Tommy was a big guy, right. Tall as Buck, a bit broader than him, too, with big hands and powerful shoulders and a strong jaw. He was pale, still, and the bruises were showing up on his face and exposed arms, ugly and dark. There were still traces of dried blood on his temple, and his curls were crusty and rust-brown there. Lying still in that bed in that dotted gown, he had never looked more small and helpless. Lonely.

Slowly, Buck entered the room. He hadn’t even noticed that the nurse had already left. He pulled up one of the chairs stood in a corner to the bedside. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down, and after more hesitation, took Tommy’s hand in one of his. His right hand, the same hand he had held in the ambulance when his heart stopped. His fingers were still cold.

His heart wasn’t stopping now, the beat steady and strong on the monitor. His blood pressure seemed good, and so did his oxygen levels. Still, Buck stared at the screen as if it would give him the answers for the future. As if something would change if he looked away for only a moment.

He only tore his eyes away when a nurse came by to check on Tommy. Buck had to let go of Tommy’s hand to let her do her job, and he felt bereft. Like Tommy would slip away.

The nurse didn’t say anything. She looked at Buck with sad eyes and gently patted his shoulder before she left. Buck sat back down, taking Tommy’s hand into both of his. He brought it to his face. There was dried blood still left in Tommy’s nailbeds.

He pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His hand was still cold. It was so strange to Buck. Tommy always ran hotter. It was a blessing and a curse, because it was nice to snuggle up to him and warm himself up, but on hot nights, there were better things than trying to escape his boyfriend doing his best impression of an octopus.

Ex-boyfriend, a mean little voice in his head whispered.

And that was apparently all that Buck could take.

He hadn’t really allowed himself to feel anything at all from the moment he had heard about the helicopter crash. He’d known that it was Tommy.

If he was fully honest, he hadn’t let himself feel anything for three weeks now, from the moment Tommy turned away from him and left. He’d picked up the pieces of his broken heart, stuck them together in a way he could perhaps make work, and kept going.

Didn’t let himself think about it. Didn’t allow himself to overthink where he went wrong. There hadn’t been any signs. Tommy and him had been happy. So happy, so … so in love. They hadn’t said it, but Buck had felt it still felt it might always feel it. And from the way Tommy had been looking at him, he’d thought, he’d assumed, he’d been convinced he felt the same.

So how could it have been so easy for him to walk out? To turn his back on them and everything they could be, on everything Buck thought they could build? And then he went ahead and got hurt. Fell out of the fucking sky, could have died before Buck ever came to terms with losing him. Because as long as he didn’t admit it to himself, there was hope. As long as he didn’t accept it, he could fool himself into thinking it wouldn’t be permanent.

Only Tommy almost died. Was almost permanently gone from Buck’s life, more permanent than any break-up in the world could ever be.

With that line of thought, Buck finally let go. He took a deep, heavy breath, only to let it out on a sob. His next inhale shuddered, his exhale came with the first tears. He clung to Tommy’s hand as if it was his lifeline, and he cried. He sobbed, he wept, he lost his breath and coughed and choked on his own tears. They slid down his face, onto his shirt, down his neck where they dried sticky and cold. They ran down Tommy’s hand and arm, too, tinted slightly pink from the remnants of Tommy’s blood that hadn’t been fully cleaned off yet.

He couldn’t breathe. In his head, he saw the flatline again. He saw the way that dark blood stained blue fabric. He felt the terror, finally, ice cold in his chest. He couldn’t feel his face.

He cried until he couldn’t. He sobbed until it turned into whimpers. His tears flowed until he had nothing left. Until his eyes hurt and his face itched from the dried tear tracks. He was still in his turnouts, he realized. He couldn’t bring himself to care much more.

He didn’t know how long it had been. The beep of the heart monitor was a steady background song to Buck’s heartbreak. Tommy hadn’t moved.

Buck wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Wiped his nose off on his sleeve. Grimaced a little, then let it drop. Didn’t matter. No-one was seeing him, anyway.

Loathe as he was to let Tommy’s hand go, he felt as if his head weighed a metric ton. He needed a moment to collect himself, so he made his way into the bathroom, turned the tap on, and splashed cold water into his face.

When he looked up into the mirror, he wasn’t surprised to see his eyes swollen and red, his face blotchy. He looked miserable. How had he made these three weeks without breaking down?

Probably because he hadn’t had contact with Tommy. Easier to pretend he never met him that way. He could try and pretend he was coping, that he was doing okay, that it was fine, guys, don’t worry about it. Only he spent his waking minutes in the gym, mostly, blasting music so loud that his ears rang after, but he ended his work outs so exhausted that he could only shower and fall into bed.

He didn’t have to think. Now he did.

He dried his face off with paper towels, rough against his sensitive skin. He didn’t care.

Back at the bed, he sat back down, and picked Tommy’s hand back up. There was nothing else for him to do. Hold his hand, wait, and stare. Bite his nails. Pick at lose skin. What he wanted to do was trace the veins on the back of Tommy’s hand up his lower arm, like he used to do when he happened to wake up before Tommy, but that felt too intimate. They were broken up. Buck shouldn’t even be holding his hand.

But whenever he convinced himself to drop Tommy’s fingers, he felt like someone cut the lines of his parachute. And it always brought him back to the same thing – clutching Tommy’s hand tightly enough to feel him, not tight enough to hurt him.

He sat. He stared. He waited. Tommy just lay there, blind to the world, to what was happening. To Buck sitting here with his heart dead and cold in his ribcage.

It had been like that since Tommy broke up with him. And it hurt. It hurt so much, and Tommy didn’t even know. Hadn’t cared to know. It wasn’t like any of Buck’s other exes had checked in on him after their break-ups, but somehow, he had felt like Tommy was different.

He’d thought Tommy would be different.

He’d really thought that.

He wanted to hate him, he realized. He wanted to hate Tommy so bad, because maybe that would make this easier.

If Buck hated him, he wouldn’t be pining after someone who didn’t want him. If he hated him, he wouldn’t have lost all of his professional capacity when Tommy fell out of the sky. If he hated him, he wouldn’t be sitting here, alone and hurt and desperate for Tommy to wake up.

Wake up wake up wake up, this isn’t over yet, you don’t get to go.

The doctors and nurses had said that there was only a small chance Tommy wouldn’t wake up, but there was always a chance. And Buck still didn’t know what those two cardiac arrests would do to Tommy – to his brain, to his heart, to him in general.

Come back, Buck thought, something he had begged for ever since the door closed behind Tommy’s back.

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Tommy woke up, and he didn’t do it quietly or peacefully. He woke up thrashing and yelling, nearly hit Buck in the nose from where he had fallen asleep with his head on the mattress. His eyes were open, but they stared right through Buck when he grabbed his hands to keep him from pulling his lines out.

Tommy was strong, and it took all of Buck to keep his hands down for long enough so that the nurses and doctor could rush in and take care of it. One of them gently pushed Buck away so he could take over holding Tommy’s hands down, and Buck could only stumble back and watch.

Just a couple of moments later, the doctor asked him to leave the room. Buck’s heart found its old home in his throat again. He followed the doctor’s orders.

To try and busy himself, he went to go pee, washed his hands until they were red, washed his face until that was red, too. He thought about getting an awful vending machine coffee, but when he entered the waiting room, he found Maddie was there (Still? Again? It’s been a whole day). She handed him a travel cup of coffee that he swallowed down so fast he barely felt how he scalded his epiglottis.

Maddie wasn’t the only one here – Chimney sat in the chair next to her, and there was Eddie, and Bobby, and Athena, and Hen. Karen wasn’t there, but Buck assumed that was because someone had to take the kids.

“How is he doing?” Maddie asked.

Eddie, who had been looking through the magazines, dropped the one he was holding to stare up at Buck. Buck knew he’d been in contact with Tommy. They’d been friends before Buck started dating him, after all.

“He woke up,” Buck said, but when the others started looking at each other in relief, he continued, “He, uh, he doesn’t seem to know where he is. He just- h-uh-he started screaming. Tried to pull his lines. Pretty sure they had to sedate him again.”

He watched their shoulders drop. The atmosphere took a nosedive. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Buck wondered whether it would be easier if he and Tommy were still dating. Maybe it would be worse.

“Hey,” Chimney broke the silence. “Tommy’s a fighter. He’ll pull through.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “This isn’t even the first time he crashed a helicopter. Pretty sure the one he told me about was worse.”

The one in the army. Tommy had told Buck about that one, too.

“And what happens then?” Buck asked. “He didn’t know what was going on. What if … he had another Code Blue during surgery. What if something got-” he gestured at his own head, “y-you know, damaged?”

“Well, if he crashed before, maybe he thinks he’s back there,” Hen reasoned. “It was a long surgery. We know some people wake up from anesthesia confused. He’ll be okay.”

But what if he isn’t, Buck wanted to ask. Wanted to scream.

Bobby got up and clapped a hand on Buck’s shoulder. Normally, Buck would find comfort in that gesture, but right now, he wished no-one would touch him. He missed Tommy’s hand in his had missed that for three weeks.

“Take a deep breath, kid,” Bobby advised, and Buck did. “Good. Let’s take a walk. These chairs aren’t good for my back.”

Buck nodded mutely and let Bobby steer him out of the waiting room again.

They walked around the halls a bit, passing patients and nurses and doctors – people getting bad news, good news, news in between. There were tears, there was laughter. Buck wanted to throw up.

They circled around, and Buck knew where they were. They were coming closer to Tommy’s room again, and he could feel Bobby slowing down, but Buck didn’t care. He didn’t want to be away from Tommy anyway.

He stopped by the window.

Tommy was lying still again. The personnel were bustling around him, checking lines and talking in hushed tones. Tommy looked calm again. Not peaceful, but not quite as still has he had before he’d woken up. His cheeks had turned a little more rosy again.

“He’ll get through this,” Bobby said reassuringly.

“And then what?” Buck asked.

“Then, you’ll figure it out.”

“We broke up.” The words hit Buck like a sledgehammer. Since the first day after their break up, he hadn’t said it out loud. He’d told his family, he’d brushed off offers to talk, he kept going. Tears stung at the back of his eyes.

Huh. He didn’t think he’d have any left.

“We broke up,” he repeated. “What’s there to figure out?”

Bobby looked at him wordlessly and raised an eyebrow. Buck looked away.

“If there was nothing to figure out,” Bobby said when he apparently realized that Buck wouldn’t stark talking, “you wouldn’t be here. You would have told someone from Harbor to take over.”

“I’m his emergency contact.” The excuse sounded weak, even in Buck’s own ears.

“Buck. You’re here because you still care about him.”

Never stopped never stopped never stopped.

“I guess.” Buck shrugged. “But he’s the one who left. He’s gonna send me away again.”

Please don’t send me away again please please please.

“You don’t know that.” Bobby squeezed his shoulder. “Wait for him to properly wake up. He needs an advocate right now.”

He had no-one.

He only had Buck, and he didn’t want Buck.

“What if-”

But Buck couldn’t continue that line of thought, because the door opened and Tommy’s doctor walked out, followed by a couple of nurses. When she saw Buck and Bobby, she stopped in her movements and smiled a little, coming closer to them.

“Mr. Buckley,” she greeted him. “I was about to go and find you.”

Buck felt as if he was vibrating out of his skin. “What’s happening? Is he okay? Is- d-did something happen with his- uh, with his head or hi-his brain or …”

She raised a placating hand. Buck took a deep breath. He couldn’t panic. Bobby had said it, Tommy needed an advocate right now. And even if he didn’t want Buck, he was all he had. So, he had to accept that.

“As you know, Mr. Kinard had less issues caused by the crash than we thought.”

Yeah. Impaled in his right side, but far enough below his ribcage that it had missed the important organs. It had hit his intestine, as far as Buck knew, but everything seemed to be fine there. He’d broken his right femur in three different places which got treated with plates and screws. A couple of cracked ribs, but that seemed to have come from the two rounds of CPR more than from the crash. Lots and lots of bruising. And a pretty severe concussion.

All in all, that was almost nothing for someone who dropped out of the sky in a helicopter.

“What-what happened when he woke up?”

“Mr. Kinard suffered a concussion between Grade 2 and Grade 3. Delirium and confusion are to be expected in the next couple of days. We were not able to confirm any further damage his brain may have taken.”

Which meant there could still be something.

“How long will he be sedated?” Buck asked, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

“A couple of hours, for now. You should be aware that we have restrained his arms to the bed. That is only as a precaution to avoid him hurting himself. Once he is awake and we have confirmed no further problems, they can be taken off.” She looked back through the door. “He is on pain medication for now. Even when his concussion gets better, he could still be confused when he wakes up. I would ask you to make sure to keep the room dark.”

The bright lights might have startled Tommy, too. Buck nodded.

“What about visitors? There’s a couple of people who would like to see him.”

She contemplated. “Please, no more than two people at once. Once Mr. Kinard is awake, he can choose who can come in. And I would ask you to be quiet, too. He needs to rest more than anything now.”

You need to rest if you want to heal, you heard the doctor.

“O-of course, yeah, we’ll-uh, we’ll be quiet.”

Buck settled back in his chair by Tommy’s head while Bobby went back to the others to tell them the news. Eddie was the first who followed, stopping by the bed.

“Had to fight Chimney for dibs,” he said with a grin, but it dropped from his face when Buck didn’t smile back.

Buck only looked up at him for a moment, then back down to Tommy’s face. His mouth was just a little bit open. He looked a bit more relaxed.

“It’ll be okay,” Eddie said.

Probably, yes. But …

“What happens after?” he asked. “We haven’t spoken in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie sighed. “You have to speak now. When he’s awake and there.”

I don’t want to. I really want to. I need to. I don’t want to.

Eddie scraped the legs of a chair over the ground. Buck barely reacted to the horrid sound. Eddie got himself situated on Tommy’s left side.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” he opened. “He didn’t tell me, but,” he shrugged, “I can see it.”

“You think that’s why he crashed?” Buck asked, couldn’t help asking, didn’t know what he would do if that was the case. Was it his fault? But Tommy broke up with him, if anything …

“No. He’s a professional, if he didn’t feel like he could do his job, he would have called out.” That much was true.

“How-” Buck swallowed. “How was he doing?”

“Not good? Obviously.” Eddie had refrained these last couple of weeks from telling Buck anything about Tommy. Buck had been grateful, didn’t know how he would have dealt, but now he was starving for any tiny little bit of info. “He regrets it, if you ask me. But he’s also stubborn as fuck.”

He was something, alright.

“I don’t get it,” Buck said. “It didn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.”

Eddie said nothing. Probably waiting for Buck to continue. Buck hadn’t spoken to anyone about this, after all, not even Maddie or Bobby after it had gone down.

“It’s like … we were together for six months. And he-he seemed as if he was just waiting for something to happen. And when it didn’t, he just- he just walked out. Seemed like he was already convinced he knew what I was thinking.”

Eddie hummed in contemplation.

“I don’t get it.”

“Well, neither do I. You should ask him that.”

Buck wondered if he would even get the chance once Tommy woke up. He didn’t know what he’d do if Tommy woke up, took a look at him, and told him to go. That there was nothing left for them.

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The second time Tommy woke up, they were alone again. There had been a steady rotation of people who came to visit. Chimney, Bobby, Hen. Some of Tommy’s coworkers when they could make the time. His captain. They all asked Buck questions about Tommy’s wellbeing, and no-one brought up their break-up. Buck wondered if they knew that Tommy had been the one to end things. Maybe. Maybe not. It didn’t seem like Tommy was all that close with his team, at least not in the same way that Buck was.

Buck was reading a book. One of Tommy’s, actually, that he still had in his duffel bag. Maddie had made him go home to change and shower, and Buck had hastily thrown a couple of things in the duffel. He hadn’t even noticed he still had that book.

It was some romance novel. Something corny with low stakes. Tommy seemed to prefer these sorts of things. Seemed to really be drawn to the sweet, easy loves. Then why did he run when it was him and Buck?

He flipped the page, a little disinterested – this really wasn’t his thing – when he heard a soft groan next to him. He dropped the book immediately without even checking which page he was on, to watch Tommy shift and his eyes flutter open.

The room was dim, just as the doctor had advised, but Tommy still squinted. He flexed his arms, as if to move them, but they were still restrained. He looked confused, and moved his intact leg as if to get traction on the bed. Buck got up and quickly put both of his hands on Tommy’s arms.

“Hey, Tommy, calm down,” he said, “don’t move. You’re okay. You got hurt, but you’re okay. Don’t move, okay, I’m gonna let you go and let the doctor know.”

Tommy blinked at him. His eyes were glazed over a little bit, and he seemed to have trouble focusing on him. He looked confused.

“E-evan?” he muttered.

“It’s me. It’s okay now, settle down.” Buck wouldn’t start crying at hearing Tommy’s voice again he wouldn’t start crying at being called Evan again.

“What’re you … what’s with my ar- I can’t move, what’s-” Tommy, again, tried to pull his arms out of the restraints.

Buck changed his grip to down to his wrists. “Tommy, it’s okay. You need to stay still for just a moment, I’ll explain it to you. But I need you to wait. Can you do that? Just a moment.”

Tommy, still with half-lidded eyes and maybe not quite there, nodded. Buck nodded back and slowly loosened his grip, ready to come back should Tommy try to get out again. But he stayed put, still with that confused little frown on his face.

Buck called for the doctor.

He sat by Tommy’s bedside again as he watched the nurses and doctor come in, check him over, ask him questions. He was slow in his answers, his voice raspy and quiet. He answered most questions with his eyes closed. He lost his train of thought several times.

“Feel like I can’t think,” he mumbled finally, after the third time he couldn’t finish a sentence. “It’s-” He weakly gestured to his head with his now free hand, “it’s foggy.”

That was thanks to the concussion and the pain meds, the doctor explained. She spoke mostly to Buck after it became clear that Tommy couldn’t focus on what she was saying for too long. She explained to him that there would be more tests and scans, but that it was looking good.

Before they left, one of the nurses asked whether they needed anything. Buck was still sorting through everything in his head, but Tommy slowly turned his head to the side to look at the nurse.

“Can I have some water?” he asked, still quietly.

Buck hurt all over. He felt like he was about to break into a thousand pieces over hearing Tommy gently ask for water.

Together with the nurse, who introduced himself as Steven, Buck helped bring Tommy into a slightly more upright position. Buck pushed any awkwardness down as he helped prop up Tommy’s head and held the cup for him.

“Slow,” he reminded him.

Tommy did as told. Mumbled his thanks when he had enough. Buck slowly let his head drop back against his pillow. He wanted to keep touching Tommy so bad, but he was still unsure if Tommy truly knew what was going on, so he kept his hands to himself now.

Buck listened to Tommy’s breath – every inhale, every exhale, deep and slow. His heartbeat on the monitor spiked slow and steady, as it always did.

“What happened?” Tommy asked, murmured. He didn’t sound quite awake, sounded more when he was almost asleep and trying to answer whatever Buck was throwing at him.

“I’ll tell you later,” Buck promised.

“When?”

There was a smile tugging on Buck’s mouth, and it felt so foreign to him. He hadn’t smiled ever since that mayday was called in. But something about the sound in Tommy’s voice, almost like an impatient whine, settled something deep in Buck’s chest.

“When you’re better. You should rest now.” He bit his lip, swallowed. “I’ll be here.”

There was no further reply from Tommy, but that was because his breathing evened out and his jaw relaxed a little as he fell back asleep. Buck wanted to run a hand through his hair. He didn’t.

All he did was sit by Tommy’s bedside like a gargoyle, watching over his sleeping form. Never taking his eyes off.

It had been too close. Tommy was okay, now, had woken up and been able to talk a little. But it had been too close.

Things had to change.

-----------------------------------------

“I fell.”

Those were the first words out of Tommy’s mouth to Buck a couple of days later when he came back in, bright and early. He knew he was pushing his luck, both with work and with Tommy, but he couldn’t help it. Bobby was understanding, allowing him take time off, and so far, Tommy hadn’t complained about Buck being there every single day.

He’d continued to get better day after day. He still didn’t do well with bright lights, and he was starting to notice his pain more and more, but that was probably because they lowered his dosage of pain killers.

From what Steven had told Buck when he came in, Tommy had been a patient and willing student for his physical therapist and had made his own way into the restroom on crutches that morning. He’d still needed help washing, and had only complained a bit.

He was upright on his bed, leafing through Buck’s book – Tommy’s book – that Buck had left with him. He’d changed his hospital gown, this one with stripes instead of dots. He looked a bit like an inmate.

The bruising on his arms and in his face had started turning green and yellow. The blood that was left on his hands and head had been cleaned off, finally, and he seemed a lot more alert than the last couple of days. He’d spoken a little bit, but slept most of the time, and done a couple of exercises with the PT.

And it seemed that he was remembering things. Throughout his wakeful moments, he had asked Buck again and again what had happened, and every time Buck told him he’d tell him once he was a bit better. He didn’t know why he was pushing it away. Maybe because he would start crying again if he told Tommy how close he had come to dying.

“Yeah,” Buck confirmed. “And somehow, you were the only one awake after.”

“What happened to the patient?” Tommy asked, eyes now moving to hold onto Buck. He wasn’t really supposed to read, not with the concussion he was still recovering from, but Buck didn’t take the book from him. “Did he make it?”

Buck nodded. “Captain West told me. He pulled through the surgery and is in recovery now. He seems to be doing well.”

He didn’t code like you did.

Tommy smiled. “Good. That’s good. What about Tracy and Carl?”

His co-pilot and the medic.

“They were unconscious, but they’re okay now. Couple of broken ribs, as far as I know, I think a dislocated shoulder? And a concussion. Not as bad as yours.”

His shoulders sagged with the breath Tommy let out, as if a weight was taken off of them. Figures he would probably blame himself if something had happened to the others. Completely ignoring the fact that he’d been stupid and almost got himself killed.

“Yeah, you somehow managed to get them down without getting impaled.” Unlike yourself.

Tommy shrugged, then winced when it pulled at the stitches in his side. Served him right, the nonchalant asshole.

"Pilot is only ever as good as his crash plan," he said.

“So that was planned?”

Tommy scrunched up his nose. Buck wanted to cry. He’s so cute he was mine he’s not mine I want him.

“It’s still not fully clear.” It being his memory. “I think I noticed something. Something was wrong with the electronics, I think. Budget cuts. I knew I had to get us down and there would be no time to find a free landing spot. So, I just hoped for the best."

“And crashed face-first into trees.”

Tommy had a soft smile on his face. “But it wasn’t deep in the forest. Closer to a road for rescue approach. And the trees didn’t stand as close there.”

He was right. About all of that. He had truly calculated all that in split seconds while he lost control of his chopper. Buck looked down at his hands, still holding his book. Capable hands, steady hands, hands that had brought them through a hurricane, had brought himself as safely to the ground as he could have.

Hands Buck used to hold. Had held while Tommy was unconscious. Somehow, that felt like a violation now. He hadn’t tried to touch Tommy outside of helping him move since he woke up.

Tommy started playing around with the pages of his book again. He was like Buck, in that regard, with his need to do something with his hands, to fidget. Buck watched him run the pad of his pointer finger over the cuticles of his thumb repeatedly.

“So,” he started, let out a deep breath. “I- they’re releasing me soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed. “Another day or two. They want to make sure my leg is okay, there’s a couple more tests for my heart, but then I’m good to go. I’m gonna need a ride. I don’t have my phone on me.”

Yeah, because Buck had kept that when Captain West had shown up with Tommy’s personal items – his wallet, keys, and phone. He didn’t want Tommy tempted to break the no-screens rule.

“O-okay. I’ll- I’ll see to it. You just tell me the time.”

Tommy nodded, but he didn’t smile anymore. His mouth was pinched. Buck felt like his skin was too tight for him. These last couple of days, he had spent every hour he could next to Tommy, only left when the nurses kicked him out. But Tommy hadn’t really been alert during those hours. This was the first time Tommy was awake long enough to hold a longer conversation, and it felt strange.

Wrong.

Buck wanted to bring it up. He wanted to bring it up right now, and have Tommy talk to him where he couldn’t run away.

He didn’t, though. He kept his mouth shut, Tommy kept his mouth shut, and they sat in uncomfortable silence next to each other, waiting for one of their friends to show up, a nurse to show up, Tommy’s PT to come by for his midday exercises.

Buck sat to the side as he watched Tommy take a couple of steps around the bed on crutches with the help of his PT, a bubbly blonde woman named Penny.

It was sort of- funny to watch a barely 5’3 woman manhandle Tommy around like it was nothing. He dutifully followed her every word, listened intently when she answered his questions.

Buck had never seen Tommy as a patient. He only knew how he took care of someone – gently, attentively, lovingly – but he’d never known how he would be on the receiving end of that care. It seemed okay for now, he seemed to be good at listening to professionals.

Penny gave him a couple of exercises she wanted him to do at home, and looked over at Buck while she was guiding Tommy through the movement.

“You getting this? It’s always better to have someone else to look over what you’re doing.”

Implying that Buck would be around to check on and correct Tommy if necessary. Only they hadn’t talked about what would happen once Tommy was home, because they didn’t talk about anything.

Tommy wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Okay, then.

“Yeah, I got it,” he said.

Tommy still didn’t look at him, but he pulled his shoulders up a little bit. Defensive. Scared.

-----------------------------------------

Tommy got released two days later in the morning. He had some instructions from both his doctor and the PT – mostly to not overdo it, and to pay close attention to how he was doing, how he was feeling, and if anything felt off, he was to return immediately.

He got his prescription for some more pills, but he didn’t have to take them, he was assured. They were just there in case he had a bad day, or if the pain kept him from falling asleep. He needed to sleep.

He’d be back in a week’s time to check over the stitches and get them out if everything was okay. He was allowed to shower, but only with his wounds covered, and not on his own. He was allowed, and required, to walk, but he wasn’t supposed to put his full weight on his leg yet. He should start PT immediately.

Tommy got showered by the nurses before Buck arrived, and his hair was still a little bit damp when he did. He was still in his hospital gown, but he definitely couldn’t leave in that.

Buck sent Eddie to get Tommy’s clothes. Buck didn’t have a key to Tommy’s house anymore. After he had found an envelope in his mailbox with his own key inside – no letter, no words, not even a sender – he had, angrily, just given his key to Eddie and told him to give it to Tommy.

He helped Tommy get dressed. He would have probably cracked a joke about usually doing the opposite while he pulled Tommy’s boxers up his legs, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything other than tell Tommy to raise his foot or keep still.

He put on his underwear, his loose sweatpants, socks, and shoes methodically, not once looking up. It made it all the harder when he had to stand up and stare Tommy in the face to help him into a t-shirt. He helped with the zip-up hoodie as well, since he couldn’t really reach behind himself with his injured side.

“Okay?” he asked once everything was done.

Tommy nodded. He didn’t have anything else here, Eddie already having taking the meagre possessions he’d kept at the hospital with him when he went to get Tommy’s clothes.

They stayed silent on the way down the hall. They stayed silent on the elevator ride downstairs. They stayed mostly silent as Buck helped Tommy into his Jeep, the seat pushed back as far as it could go to make room for Tommy’s hurt leg. Buck threw the crutches into the back with little care.

The drive to Tommy’s house was silent, too. They left the radio off. They didn’t talk. Buck forced himself to keep his eyes stubbornly on the road, to not sneak a glance over at Tommy next to him.

Once he pulled into the driveway, he got out first and rushed to the other side of the car to hand Tommy his crutches and help him get out.

He left his own bag in the car, locked it, and squeezed past Tommy at the door to open it for him. Tommy nodded his thanks and walked inside. He snorted, and Buck, who had closed the door behind him, turned to see the pile of Tommy’s stuff unceremoniously dropped on the counter in his kitchen.

“Would have killed him to put that away,” he laughed.

He moved there, but Buck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Tommy looked down at his hand first, then met Buck’s eyes. For a moment, neither of them moved. Buck wasn’t even sure if either of them was breathing at all.

“Let me,” Buck said. “You should take a seat.”

“Kinda need to pee,” Tommy muttered. “I’ll sit down in a moment.”

“Do you-” Buck stopped himself before he could ask whether Tommy needed help going to the bathroom. That really wasn’t his place anymore.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy reassured him. “Not my first broken leg.”

Buck watched him move to the downstairs bathroom on sure strides. The way he dealt with his crutches so easily told Buck exactly that, but he felt a little off-kilter. They hadn’t really talked about big injuries. Buck knew about the gas-leak, and he knew about the first helicopter crash, but he hadn’t known that Tommy had broken his leg. More than once!

Broke up before he could really know everything.

He shook his head and busied himself with putting away Tommy’s things. He tried not to think about the fact that he still knew where to put them. He tried not to think about the fact that he knew that there was a drawer in Tommy’s closet that once held his own clothes. He had never come around to pick them up.

He was in the bedroom, because Tommy preferred having his wallet and keys on his bedside table instead of by the door. Buck had thought it was strange, but it had endeared him to Tommy. He put everything down and turned around, his eyes flicking to Tommy’s closet. He walked closer. Knelt down. It was the second drawer.

He didn’t want to look he wanted to look. He didn’t want to see the drawer empty again, didn’t want to see that Tommy had already gotten rid of his things, didn’t want to see that he had already filled the drawer with his own things again he needed to see.

Buck opened the drawer.

His things were still there. A pair of sweatpants, two pairs of boxershorts, a couple of t-shirts. A towel, a little notebook and a pen. There was also stuff there that Buck hadn’t left in the drawer – his toothbrush and toothpaste, for example, that he had left in Tommy’s bathroom, standing in the cheerful little yellow cup that also held Tommy’s toothbrush.

It meant that Tommy had opened this drawer. It meant that he had taken Buck’s things and put them in here instead of throwing them away, or putting them in a box to give to Eddie. Or to send it to Buck’s again with no sender.

Buck sat there for a moment, until he heard the bathroom door downstairs open. He pushed the drawer shut – careful to do it quietly – and got up, wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans.

He returned to the living room where Tommy was walking around a little bit, checking over a couple of things, it seemed.

Buck left him be, and went into the kitchen instead. He looked through the cupboards everything was still at their spots, even the little rack of spices Tommy had bought for Buck. He opened the fridge.

“You have no food,” he announced and left the room.

Tommy was still standing in the middle of his living room, staring at his bookshelf. For what, Buck didn’t know.

“I can make a grocery run real quick. You should try and make sure you’re eating properly, you need that to heal. I can cook something in advance, you can freeze it and just heat it up, you shouldn’t stay standing for that long yet.” Buck already started a mental list of what food items would be good. “Anything in particular you want today? I can get-”

“Buck,” Tommy said, and it hit Buck right in the chest so hard he stopped talking immediately.

He’d called him Evan in the hospital when he’d woken up. He hadn’t called him anything after that.

He stared at Tommy, wasn’t sure whether he looked as much like a shot deer as he felt. Tommy didn’t look back at him at first, but then he turned around on one leg, and moved closer to the couch.

“I can just order something in. I’ll figure out the rest.” He rounded the coffee table. “You can leave, you know. I’ll be fine.”

As if to prove his point, he turned his crutches around, stretched his hurt leg in front of him, and slowly, carefully, lowered himself onto the couch on his good leg. He looked at Buck who had not moved an inch from where he stood, frozen.

“Leave?” he rasped.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, tilted his head a little. It was so familiar. It hurt so much. You can’t be doing this to me, you can’t, you can’t.

“So, you’re saying you’re kicking me out?” That came out with more bite than Buck had wanted to. Not because he wasn’t angry. He was rapidly reaching the upper threshold of being pissed. But because he didn’t want Tommy to see just how affected he was.

“I’m saying you can leave,” Tommy repeated, in that stupidly patient tone of his that Buck used to appreciate, but now he hated it, it made him feel out of control. Unreasonable. “Do with that what you will.”

That was a dismissal if Buck had ever heard one. He stared, but Tommy once again wasn’t meeting his eyes. Seemed content to just sit there, with his arms braced around his upper body as if protecting himself, and wait for Buck to go.

Buck turned. He moved towards the door. He heard a soft breath behind him. Wanted to look back. Couldn’t, shouldn’t look back. Tommy didn’t want him here. How much more proof did he need?

He stopped at the door. Hand hovering over the knob. Ready to leave, probably forever. He’d send Eddie to pick up his things. He would never hear from Tommy again. He would agonize and break apart, and he wouldn’t have the guts to send Tommy a text message and ask him how his recovery was going.

Yeah, no. This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not after all of that.

Buck turned around, and stomped his way back into the living room. Absolutely not. Not without some answers, not without making Tommy explain himself.

Tommy was still sat on the couch, now leaning back with his head angled towards the ceiling. When he noticed that Buck was back in the room, he schooled his expression.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Of all the things he could have asked.

“W-what’s up? What’s up!?” Buck repeated, incredulous.

He knew that Tommy could be bitchy, and sometimes a little mean, and maybe sometimes a little callous. He knew Tommy could pretend like he wasn’t affected by things and have people believe him. He knew that Tommy acted like the things he brushed off weren’t an issue, didn’t keep him up at night. But he knew the truth.

Tommy sat up straighter in the face of Buck’s rising anger. There was something in his eyes, like a prey animal, and Buck immediately tried to rein it in. He knew, he knew about Tommy had gone through with his father, and as pissed off as he was, he didn’t want to do this to him.

“We’re not done,” Buck said. “We need to talk. I deserve that.”

Tommy let out a deep breath, as if he’d been afraid of this. He probably had been, and that was why he’d tried to send Buck away as quick as possible.

None of that, Tommy, Buck thought. Nowhere to run.

“Listen,” Tommy started. “Buck-”

“Stop calling me Buck!” Buck shouted before he could stop himself.

So, they were doing this. The dam was open, and Buck’s anger and rage and fury and his pain flowed right out between them. Don’t yell, don’t yell, don’t yell.

Tommy flinched. He pulled in a breath through his teeth. “Evan,” he said, finally, in that way of his.

That was better. The artificial distance he’d tried to put between them evaporated. Buck walked a little closer. Tommy stared up at him, silent.

After a moment, Tommy sighed. “You wanted to talk,” he said. “So talk.”

He was giving him the stage. And suddenly, Buck didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where to start. Couldn’t collect his thoughts enough to speak them. You hurt me you left me you were mine I loved you I love you I want you back I want to hate you I love you I want you back don’t make me leave don’t push me away.

What finally came out was, “Your heart stopped.”

Tommy looked surprised by Buck going with that. So was Buck, if he was honest. He furrowed his brow, clearly taking his moment to think about what Buck meant, and what to say.

“I know,” he said, “the doctor told me about the surgery.”

Buck shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. In the ambulance, we lost your heartbeat.” Tommy looked shocked, once more. “All I could do was watch and sit still, all I could think was that I was gonna lose you without us talking things through.” Now that Buck had found a place to start, he kept talking, almost stumbling over his own words. “I had your blood on my hand. You fell, and I caught you. I thought you were about to say something, but then you fell. And you were bleeding out. I was holding you in my arms and you were bleeding out. I think my turnouts are still soaked with it. You flatlined in the ambulance. I watched your heart monitor the entire time. I thought that was it, I’d lost you for good. More than before.”

“I’m okay now,” Tommy said cautiously. As if he wasn’t sure what to say. And wasn’t that new territory.

“You almost weren’t. They told me you’ve got a strong heart and everything, but I’ve seen healthy, strong people die from smaller things than a helicopter crash. I held your hand and watched your heart stop moving.”

“I’m sorry.”

That hurt more than Buck was expecting. “What are you sorry for? Because I don’t think it’s the thing I want you to apologize for.”

Tommy sighed. “I never wanted to put you through something like this. I should have taken you out of my paperwork.”

And that was not the direction Buck had wanted him to go. He wanted him to acknowledge that he broke up with Buck out of nowhere, for no reason.

“No!” he denied. “No, you shouldn’t have! You don’t get it, I didn’t want to break up!”

“I do get that.” Tommy looked Buck right in the eyes when he said that. He meant it.

Buck shook his head. “Then why are you so convinced you know that it’s what I wanted!?”

Tommy’s eyes dropped. He took a deep breath, grabbed his crutches, and stood up, quickly moving into the kitchen. Buck was about to call him out for leaving, but he turned to look at Buck and gestured to follow him with his head.

Buck did so, watched Tommy lean his crutches against the counter, turn around and fill a glass of water and down it immediately. He held the glass under the sink again, filling it again, and hopped back over to the counter on one leg.

“How many people were there in the waiting room for me?” he asked. “For longer than an hour.”

Buck furrowed his brow, confused by the sudden change of topic. “All of us? The 118, we were all there. Bobby, Chim, Eddie, Hen. Karen came by, Maddie, and Athena, too. I was there.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. It didn’t sound happy at all. “That’s sweet, but they were there for you. Not me.”

Those words hit Buck’s chest like an arrow. Like a truck. Like a 300 million Volt lightning strike. He was devastated. How could Tommy still believe he was alone? Then he was angry. How dare Tommy still believe he was alone!?

“Chimney got on top of you,” he blurted out.

Tommy looked taken aback. “O-okay?”

Buck rounded the counter. “He got on top of you as soon as you flatlined. There wasn’t any hesitation, he would have kept going until we were inside the hospital if that’s what it took. You came back quicker.”

Tommy said nothing.

“Chim and Eddie fought over who got to visit you first. Eddie won.”

Tommy said nothing.

“I’ve been answering texts about how you’re doing from everyone every single day.”

Tommy said nothing.

Buck’s patience was running thin. “Can you say something!?”

“What do you want me to say?” Tommy asked, twisting his glass of water with his hands. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Anything? Thank you, maybe? Or, sorry, I was wrong!”

Tommy dropped his hands from the glass. “I know you want me to apologize for breaking up with you,” he said, “but that’s not something I can do.”

“Why?” Buck fired back. “Because you don’t regret it? Maybe you’re just hiding behind what’s best for me, maybe you were just waiting for an out.”

God, please don’t let that be the case. Buck would actually break down if he found out Tommy had just been waiting for any excuse to leave.

“Don’t put words into my mouth.” Yeah, that tracked. Tommy hated it when Buck made assumptions about what he said.

Oh, so I am gross that’s not what I said.

“So? You did it for me? I didn’t want that! And still, you don’t regret what you put me through? Not at all?”

There was a spark in Tommy’s eyes now. Less the prey, more the predator. More furious. Something bloomed in Buck’s stomach with vicious vindication. He wanted Tommy to stop being so calm, so collected, so unshakably stoic.

“I don’t want to regret it!” he finally admitted. “I want to feel like I made the right choice!”

“Well, sucks to be you, it wasn’t!”

Buck took a deep breath. No, this wasn’t the right route. He didn’t want to yell and scream, he wanted to get to the bottom of this. He wanted his answers. He wanted Tommy back.

“Why do you think you made the right choice?” he asked in a calmer tone.

Tommy looked away. Buck came closer and turned his head to catch his eyes again. Warmth bloomed inside of him when he saw that tiny little quirk of Tommy’s mouth, a tentative smile at Buck’s antics.

“I’m 40 years old, do you think this is the first I’ve done this?” he asked. “I haven’t been out for that long. But ever since I came out, I tried. So many times. Every single time, something happens. I’ve accepted that. I look around, I date, it ends. I’m not a forever kind of guy.”

It took Buck a moment to formulate what to say to that. Tommy sounded – not accepting. Resigned, more like it.

“You were to me,” Buck said.

I wanted to move in with you I wanted to marry you I wanted to spend my life with you.

The tension had been taken out of the air. Tommy’s admission hadn’t been angry, hadn’t been much of anything. He’d just said it, as if it was normal for him. How many times had Tommy been left behind for him to believe that Buck would do that after he’d specifically asked him to move their relationship along?

There was something missing. “You know what I think?”

Tommy huffed out a soft laugh. He didn’t seem angry. “Please, enlighten me.”

I think you’re full of shit. I think you’re an asshole. I think you’re the love of my life. I think I want you, still, I never stopped, please want me back.

“I think you’re scared.” Buck came closer. Tommy turned around, leaning his back against the counter. “I think you’ve been burnt so many times that you decided that you’d just get it over with before anything else could happen. I think you’re running away.”

Tommy’s mouth pinched at the sides. He met Buck’s eyes now, but Buck couldn’t quite read him. He couldn’t quite read his voice, either, when he said, “What’re you gonna do, call me a coward? As if I don’t know that already.”

He didn’t want Tommy to get defensive. He didn’t want to get defensive, himself. They needed to stay on track. There weren’t done yet, but they were so close, Buck could feel it.

He decided to straight up ask the one thing he wanted to know the most. “Why did you do it?” Why did you break my heart?

“Because,” Tommy replied with a sigh.

That’s not an answer, sat at the tip of Buck’s tongue, but he swallowed the words down when he realized Tommy wasn’t done.

“It was easier, okay?” he said, and his voice sounded- sounded like defeat, almost. No, not like defeat. Like concession.

“For whom?” Buck asked. Because it sure as hell hadn’t been easier on him.

Tommy shrugged, a softer movement – mindful of the stitches still in his side. “You. Me. Everyone. This way, at least it was my own fault. I can hate myself and rage at myself because I let you go. I don’t have to wait for you to come to your senses and do it for me.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere. Tommy hadn’t wanted to leave Buck, not really. Does he still want me I think he still wants me please want me.

“Come to my senses,” Buck repeated, just to have something to latch onto. If he followed his own pathetic thought process, he might start crying.

“I told you, Evan, I’m not a forever guy.” Second time he’d said it. Buck wondered if someone had actually said that to Tommy with those words. “I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. Do you know how many of my exes sat at the hospital waiting for me? Two! And both of them broke up with me within weeks. And all their friends that I connected with, that I liked and spent time with, guess what they did.”

Left him behind. Alone.

Buck wanted to say he got that – Ali couldn’t handle being with a firefighter, Buck had been a stranger in his own home – but did he really? He’d had Maddie. He’d made so many connections traveling. And then, he had the 118, he had Bobby, and Chim and Hen and Eddie.

Tommy didn’t have that. Apparently never had that. And whenever he thought he did, he lost it. So, he broke it off himself before he got too invested. Too connected. That was one thing Buck understood – this need to self-sabotage, out of fear or whatever. He got that, he’d done that.

He cautioned another step closer to Tommy. There was only maybe another foot of distance between them now, almost side-by-side, with Tommy leaning backwards against the counter and Buck standing next to his side, still holding his gaze.

Talk to me, he thought. Don’t turn back. Keep talking.

For a moment, there was silence. And Buck was terrified that Tommy would hide again. Would still stand by what he’d done and push Buck back, push him away, tell him to leave again. Break his heart all over again.

But Tommy didn’t. He loosened one hand from the counter – he’d been white-knuckling the edge, Buck noticed – and raised his hand in an aborted move. He dropped it back next to him.

“I’m scared,” he finally admitted, like a confession. “I’ve only ever been scared in my life, Evan.”

Scared little boy, scared young soldier, scared firefighter, scared in relationships, scared out of relationships. Buck wondered how he would feel if he didn’t have the safety net of his family behind him, of so many people that were willing to open their arms and catch him if something happened.

Even when things go wrong especially when they go wrong.

Buck took a chance. He’d been yearning for it since Tommy first truly woke up in his hospital bad. He put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He wanted to take his hand, but he felt like he had to do this slow. He felt like a tiny wrong decision would spook Tommy. But he wanted, he needed to touch him. Tether himself to him.

Tommy looked at his hand again. His head dropped a little towards that shoulder, as if he was trying to lean into that touch, as if he was trying to rub his face against Buck’s hand.

“It happened before. Just like this. I was with someone who was figuring himself out, and I thought I was falling in love.” Tommy had never truly talked about his exes before. At least not the ones he started dating after he came out – he told Buck about the first guy he was into, and of his time in the army.

“You thought?” Buck inquired, latching on that little tidbit.

“It didn’t feel like this,” Tommy whispered. “But at the time, I thought I was. We were about to move in together. Couple of days before, he broke it off. Wanted to see the world. His options. I let him go. Little while later, met a guy. Recently out. Went back into the closet after three months. Couple years back, I had a longer relationship. We were together for two years. We’d moved in together. We were talking about – about getting a house with a yard, about a dog, about kids …”

“He left,” Buck concluded. He hadn’t known about that, about Tommy having a relationship like that. He could understand why Tommy never talked about it.

Tommy nodded. “Out of nowhere. Said he didn’t want to be tied down right now. That he thought that’s what he wanted, but no, actually he wanted to be free.”

Buck assumed that after, Tommy had had to move out. Pack up his life and store it somewhere else. Rebuild all on his own, always on his own.

“It’s happened again and again. No matter what, at one point, they realized they were missing out and wanted to get back out there. And I couldn’t do that again, I couldn’t let you do that to me. I couldn’t do it.”

“So, you did it yourself,” Buck concluded.

There were tears in Tommy’s eyes. Buck so desperately wanted to wipe them away. He didn’t, he dropped the hand from Tommy’s shoulder – not without brushing his fingers along his arm – and took another small step closer to him.

“I am sorry for hurting you,” Tommy said, voice tight and serious. “That’s not what I wanted. I just didn’t want to be the one hurt again. Doesn’t mean it was okay to put that on you.”

“Have you done that before?” Buck asked.

Tommy shook his head. “I haven’t been with someone long enough to get into this position. I think- I think I felt blindsided. We haven’t really talked about moving in, yet.”

That was true. They had exchanged keys, and Tommy still had that corner of Buck’s closet dedicated to his clothes. But they had never really said anything about moving in, hadn’t discussed anything. Maybe Buck’s phrasing had also been kinda bad – Tommy had a house, after all. With a car lift and a Muay Thai set up, why would he have wanted to move into Buck’s loft?

“So, you felt trapped?” Buck asked.

“Not trapped,” Tommy denied. “Put on the spot. With my track record, I was sure it would mean that it was only a matter of time before it was over. And in that time I would just … fall more and more in love with you. And I didn’t- I still don’t know whether I’ll ever recover from you.”

“I’m sorry for springing it onto you.”

“No, don’t apologize. I was wrong, I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

What do you want me to say sorry I was wrong.

“You shouldn’t have,” Buck agreed. “But I get it. I need you to understand you can talk to me. You should talk to me, not jump to conclusions.” Wow, pot meet kettle.

“Was kinda afraid you’d tell me I was right.”

“Well, you weren’t.” He breathed in, breathed out. “Y-you seemed to-to know exactly what to say to make it hurt.”

“Yeah,” Tommy admitted. “Have a gift for that. I feel cornered, I lash out. Tend to use whatever I can to get out of there.”

“Gotta work on that, Tommy.”

“I have!” Tommy protested, but there was almost a smile in his eyes. “It used to be much worse. I’m still a work in progress.”

Like Buck with his endless software updates.

He felt calmer, now. His anger had trickled out of him in the face of Tommy’s honesty, until there was nothing left. He didn’t even really feel tired. He felt relieved, he felt like something was happening. Something good.

Like back then, in his own kitchen, after that awful basketball game, Buck felt a pull to close the distance between them. Not that there was a lot of distance left.

Still, Buck shifted slowly, to push his body in front of Tommy. Still leaning against the counter, his bad leg bent so he didn’t put any weight on it. Buck stood to face him. Tommy rightened himself up, dropping his hands from the counter. Like this, Tommy was taller by only a smidgen.

They were so close now. Slowly, Buck pushed a hand under Tommy’s fingers, his arms still hanging by his sides. Tommy didn’t protest, didn’t try to move his hands away, so Buck took that as a sign to continue, and took his other hand as well, brought them together between them.

He could feel Tommy’s breath on his cheek. He smelled of his mint toothpaste. He turned his head down a little, eyes almost closed, as if avoiding looking Buck in the eyes.

“Evan …” he said, hushed, between them. Like a secret.

Buck tipped his nose up. It nudged against Tommy’s a couple of times, like in a nuzzle. “Let me in,” he asked. Pleaded. Begged.

For a moment, it seemed as if Tommy was resisting. Buck held his breath, afraid that he would startle Tommy and make him turn away. This was his Hail Mary, if this didn’t work, if they couldn’t move past this, then- well, then it would well and truly be over. He’d have to accept that he didn’t want to he didn’t want to he didn’t want to.

But then, Tommy’s head dropped a little, tilted to the side. His eyes fluttered the rest of the way shut, and his slightly open mouth found Buck’s. They breathed out simultaneously, and Buck felt Tommy’s fingers in his tighten their grip.

Buck rocked into the movement of Tommy’s head, following his mouth. He didn’t want to be parted, yet. He’d missed this, he’d missed this, I missed you I missed you.

Tommy shifted his head. Opened his mouth. Buck followed the invitation, slotted his lips right there. His nose brushed Tommy’s when he turned his head, and he muffled a chuckle into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy freed one of his hands and raised it, put his fingers under Buck’s chin, brought them to his jaw. Buck’s own free hand found its place in the back of Tommy’s neck, fingertips teasing against his short hair.

They moved, a little bit, a bit back, and Buck tried to press closer to Tommy, but Tommy flinched and groaned in pain, his hand going to his side. Buck tried to take a step back immediately, but Tommy’s hand in his kept him close.

“I-I’m sorry, are you okay?” he looked Tommy over, scared for a moment that his shirt would bleed red again.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Tommy assured. “Just should probably take it easy on me for a bit.”

Buck nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Tommy’s crutches for him. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

He guided Tommy back into the living room with a hand on his back, and this time, he helped him sit down. He thought about how easy it had looked for Tommy when he’d done it on his own, and realized that he’d always had to do it on his own.

Not anymore. Not if Buck could help it. Not if Tommy didn’t try some self-sacrificing shit again.

He helped Tommy maneuver around a bit so he was stretched out, and jammed one of the throw pillows under the backs of Tommy’s knees so his legs had a bit more comfort.

Tommy mumbled a thank you, eyes half-lidded because Buck had leaned back in again, his face close. He pushed a short kiss to Tommy’s mouth, needed one for the way.

“Stay here,” he instructed gently.

“What am I gonna do, make a run for it?” Tommy asked after him.

Buck chuckled, feeling giddy and light like almost seven months ago when Tommy had kissed him for the first time. He grabbed Tommy’s glass of water from the kitchen counter and brought it to him.

“You still have no food,” Buck pointed out.

“We can talk about that later, right?” Tommy said, taking a sip from his glass before putting it on his coffee table. On a coaster, because Tommy hated glasses standing on wood without a coaster.

Buck sat down by Tommy’s legs. A bit too far away from him, for his tastes, but Tommy immediately stretched his arms out for him to take. Tommy brushed his thumbs over Buck’s hands. For a moment, they sat, stared at each other. Buck took a deep breath, and finally let himself feel the relief of seeing Tommy home, alive, safe.

Tommy didn’t look away from him. What Buck had done for that attention in the beginning. Even having Tommy as a boyfriend didn’t stop him from needing Tommy’s eyes on him all the time.

Was he his boyfriend? Were they still exes? He wanted to stop calling Tommy his ex-boyfriend.

“Do you want me?” Buck asked finally, hushed and private.

Tommy looked at Buck like- like- don’t go there don’t go there you just got here wait wait wait does he love me? “More than anything I ever have.”

Buck felt a smile cross his face, brighter than any of his had been in almost four weeks. Like back then, at a table in a sunlit café, when Tommy agreed to go to the wedding with him.

“If we’re doing this,” he said, pulling himself back into the present, “you can’t be standing around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can’t try to use what you know about me to hurt me and make me turn away. That isn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Tommy agreed. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say for sure that I’ll never do it again when we fight, but I’ll try my damnedest to stop myself from lashing out.”

Which was fair. Things wouldn’t change overnight, this was clearly behavior Tommy knew from himself. And if it used to be worse, he’d already put in the work. He would put in more work, Buck knew it.

I’ll try my damnedest to make it to the wedding sorry I’m late that fire was a beast.

“Do you- do you want me back?” Buck asked, because he needed it out loud. He felt his eyes sting. As if he hadn’t cried enough.

Tommy’s eyes had a suspicious sheen to them, as well. They were so blue.

“If you’ll take me back,” he said, voice rough all of a sudden.

The tears spilled over. But this time, they weren’t accompanied by sobs of despair and terror, but a grin so wide Buck felt it might split his face in two. “What have I been doing this whole time?” he asked, pushing himself closer to Tommy’s upper body. “What have I tried doing?”

He leaned back in, kissed Tommy again, because he could, because that was his boyfriend I love you I love you I missed you so much don’t ever do that to me again.

A familiar set of fingers brushed under Buck’s eye, wiping away the tears that were dripping down. Buck finally put his hands on Tommy, cupping his face first, then ran his thumb over his head wound that had been stapled shut.

“Thank you,” Tommy mumbled, pressing a kiss to the pad of Buck’s thumb. “Thank you for pushing.”

“I’ll keep pushing if that’s what you need,” Buck said. “I’d prefer it if you talked to me, though.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Buck closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against Tommy’s – gently, of course, Tommy was still suffering from a concussion, after all. He breathed, in and out, took in the closeness, the warmth. Tommy’s hands were warm again, Buck noticed.

They stayed like that for a while, but at one point, Buck’s back started protesting, and Tommy’s stomach grumbled. Buck huffed out a laugh.

"Can we talk about food now?" he asked.

"If we have to," Tommy sighed. “Not like I can eat anything heavy.”

“I’ll find you something good,” Buck promised, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Need some protein. It’s good for healing. Do you think ginger would be okay? It’s anti-inflammatory, might be beneficial, or is that bad? Wait, let me-”

Two hands covered Buck’s before he could type into google whether ginger was acceptable food after abdominal surgery.

“Evan,” Tommy laughed, soft and fond. “Something simple is okay. I’m sure it’ll be better than the broth and jello combo I had at the hospital.”

Buck scrunched up his nose. It shouldn’t be hard for him to find something better than that.

He put in the order once Tommy confirmed he was okay with his choice, and slowly sat back down by Tommy’s legs. He ran his hand up and down Tommy’s hurt leg, gently, gauging Tommy’s reaction. Tommy seemed to relax more into the pillows.

“I’m still gonna go grocery shopping,” he announced. “You need proper food in here.”

“Didn’t you say I’m not supposed to stay on my legs for long? What, want me to wheel my office chair into the kitchen and cook while sitting down? Do you know how many calls I had because people tried to cook sitting down?” Tommy raised his eyebrows.

“Like hell you’re getting rid of me again,” Buck retorted, pinching the inside of Tommy’s thigh on his intact leg. He grinned at the little squeal that escape Tommy’s mouth. “You’ll have to live with that for as long as it takes for you to walk on both legs again.”

“Think it could be worse,” Tommy muttered, an almost cautious smile on his face. It dropped a moment later, in favor for a more serious expression. “I think we’re gonna have to take it slower.”

“O-okay?” Buck asked, confused.

“I let you set the pace.” Tommy shook his head with a smile, clearly amused by whatever he was thinking about. “I never really thought that you’d move faster than I was ready for, but this, this showed us.” He looked back up. “I need it slow, Evan. I’ve never felt like this about anyone ever before. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself.”

Buck wanted to say something like, see, that would have been nice to know beforehand, but he mentally kicked himself. That was not the point. God knows Buck did weird shit in relationships whenever he didn’t know how to proceed.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. We go slow. I can do slow.”

Tommy’s chest jumped when he huffed a laugh that sounded almost like a sob. And okay, yeah, slow wasn’t really part of Buck’s vocabulary.

“Hey, I can try! I can check in, too.” He winked. “I can check in just like you.”

Too soon too soon he’s gonna be weirded out he’s smiling he’s smiling?

“Think you can be patient for a little longer?” Tommy asked with a smirk.

“For you? Yeah.”

Buck puffed up with pride when he saw the red blush staining Tommy’s cheeks. It wasn’t easy to catch him off guard, so every time Buck got him flustered, it felt like a special honor.

“We really need to talk more,” Buck said. “I thought we’d kept good communication, but …”

“Really dropped the ball on that,” Tommy agreed.

“I, uh, I also don’t want any, any resentment between us.” It was something he worried about. Something they’d let lie and fester until it tore them apart worse than whatever this had been.

“I don’t blame you for any of this, Evan,” Tommy assured him. “It was my fault.”

“I was also talking about resenting yourself.”

Tommy seemed taken aback.

Yeah, I got you, Buck thought. He knew Tommy. Maybe not fully, maybe not perfectly, but he knew him. He could continue to know him.

“Maybe we should try couple’s counseling,” Tommy sighed, dropping his head back against the armrest.

“You think?” Buck asked, sitting up a bit higher to look at him.

Tommy shrugged. “Maybe? I’m in therapy, have been for a while. It’s helped, and I think it might help to have someone else’s view on a relationship.” He sat up. “We don’t have to do it right now. We can just keep it in mind.”

Buck nodded. “Yeah.” In truth, he was relieved that Tommy had brought it up. He still felt slightly off-balance, a bit worried he could do or say something that would bring him right back to the point he was at when he entered Tommy’s house – heartbroken and pining.

Tommy yawned, big enough that his jaw cracked a little. He moved his shoulders back a little, something he tended to do when he was tired and his shoulders felt a little tense.

Buck got up. “Come on. Food should be here soon. Let’s get some in you, and then you should go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Understatement.” Tommy heaved himself up, allowed Buck to help pull him up and guide him to sit at the kitchen counter again. Buck carried his water glass with him. Tommy chuckled.

Tommy, it turned out, was a gracious patient. He patiently sat and watched Buck bustle about his kitchen for the utensils, let him plate their food, allowed him to watch him intently while he ate. Once Buck deemed the amount he had eaten as enough, he let Buck bully him into the bathroom.

He didn’t say anything against Buck standing leaning against the door, watching him brush his teeth. Buck’s eyes landed on the yellow cup when Tommy put his toothbrush back into it.

“I still have yours,” Tommy said, following Buck’s gaze. “It’s upstairs.”

“I know,” Buck admitted. “I looked into the drawer. I wanted to know if-” If you’d gotten rid of me yet.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed. “I just threw everything of yours I could find in there. Didn’t wanna look at it. But I also didn’t want to throw it out.”

“Could’ve just given it to Eddie,” Buck pointed out.

“Didn’t want to do that, either.” Tommy turned, taking his crutches. “Broke my own heart that day, too.”

Buck wondered if they’d one day be able to reference their break-up without some phantom pain still sitting behind Buck’s ribcage. He shook his head. He should probably pace himself. They just got back together. There was time. Buck would make sure of it.

He refrained from helping Tommy climbed up the stairs, but only because Tommy looked at him as if he dared Buck to try. It wasn’t a glare, not quite, but nearly. A don’t even think about it.

He let Tommy do his thing, and simply held one of his crutches so he could use his free hand on the handrail of his staircase.

Once upstairs, Tommy moved to his bedroom as soon as Buck handed him his second crutch. He let Buck sit him down on the bed, watching him rifle through his closet for a change of clothes.

“You know I can sleep in this, right?” Tommy asked, wincing a little as Buck eased his hoodie off of his shoulders.

“Absolutely not,” Buck retorted. “We need some routine for you, or you’ll just wear the same shirt and pants for days.”

Tommy made a sound in protest, but didn’t stop Buck from further taking his clothes off and putting him in a different pair of sweatpants and a ratty, too large t-shirt.

He took the crutches and leaned them against the side table. He helped Tommy get into bed under the covers, and kissed his forehead. Tommy was fading fast, it seemed. The day really took it out of him.

“I’ll clean up downstairs,” Buck told him quietly.

“Will you-” Tommy paused. “Will you stay?”

Only what Buck had been wanting to hear since they broke up. He nodded.

“I’ll be right back.”

He cleaned up as quickly as he could, put the trash away, loaded the dishwasher. He climbed back into Tommy’s room, watching him for a moment – he was reading again. Or trying, at least, since with every blink of his eyelids, they seemed to stay closed for longer.

Buck got his toothbrush and a change of clothes, and got ready in the much smaller upstairs bathroom. Whoever came up with that idea, Buck didn’t understand. If the bedroom was up here, why not have the bigger bathroom here, too?

When he’d complained to that to Tommy once time, all he’d done was laugh and say, “I bought the place like this, Evan.”

Buck still thought it was stupid.

When he returned to the bedroom, Tommy had put his book away. He was still fighting a valiant battle to try and stay awake, making Buck chuckle. It was as if something had settled inside of him at the sight of his boyfriend not ex anymore real boyfriend full boyfriend he’s mine trying desperately to wait for him.

Buck crawled into bed on the other side. He turned to face Tommy, still lying on his back. Good thing that Tommy had absolutely no issues sleeping that way, because the doctor had told Buck he wasn’t supposed to sleep on his side, especially the right one, yet. Left one only if he put a pillow between his legs.

“Are you in pain? Do you need something?” he asked.

Tommy took a moment to answer, and when he did, his words were sluggish. Soft. “Got s’me at the clinic,” he mumbled. “’ll wake you if I need’em.”

Buck smiled, couldn’t stop smiling, and leaned over to kiss Tommy’s forehead again. He brushed some of his curls away from his forehead, careful not to pull on the staples on his wound.

“Ready for bed, are you?”

“Wanna cuddle.”

Buck pressed his smile into Tommy’s hair before he could laugh out loud. He felt giddy again, wondered how he was supposed to sleep today.

“But before we do that.” Buck leaned back a little, and Tommy actually forced his eyes open – it looked like it took tremendous effort – and looked up at Buck, kept his attention right on him. “You said you were my first. I want you to be my last, too.” He held up a hand before Tommy could say anything. “I know you said slow. And we’re gonna go slow. But I want you to know that I’m staying. I’m in it, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, soft and content. “Tell me again in the morning?” he asked. “In case I forget.”

“I’ll tell you every day,” Buck promised. “Until it sticks.”

“I love you,” Tommy whispered into the space between them. “I already do. I tried to break it off before, but I was too late, I already do.”

Buck watched his eyes close again, watched him struggle to keep them open. He brushed his fingers down Tommy’s cheek. His stubble was a little more prominent, he only now realized.

“You can go to sleep,” he whispered back. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

“I missed you.” Tommy rubbed his face into Buck’s hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Buck pressed the words right against Tommy’s skin. “Tell me again in the morning?”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, clearly barely awake at all.

Buck stayed in the same position for a couple more moments, just to make sure Tommy was really asleep. The light on the side table was still on, but it obviously didn’t bother Tommy enough to keep him from sleeping. Considering he could sleep even with Buck typing away on his laptop in the middle of the night, it wasn’t a surprise.

Once Tommy’s breathing evened out in that familiar pattern, Buck settled back down on his side, one hand carefully on Tommy’s chest. Right on top of his heartbeat. Slow and steady, like his breathing, as if nothing could stop his heart. Buck stared at the clock on Tommy’s bedside table, counted for that well-known amount of beats per minute.

It wasn’t even dark outside, yet. Buck was definitely ahead of his bedtime. But he had barely slept properly these days that Tommy was in the hospital, and he had missed sleeping next to Tommy so much. He would probably fall asleep soon, but until then, he would spend his time – minutes, hours, who cared – staring at Tommy.

He got him back. He could breathe.