Chapter Text
Eddie loves his best friend. He was extremely grateful for all Buck had done for him. How he's looked after Christopher, doted on him, but let him be independent, something his parents haven't even figured out the balance for.
He loved Buck. Buck had his back, and he had Bucks. It's been like that since the bomb in the ambulance. Even after everything, the shooting, the lightning, every hospital visit and late-night conversation, when Evan Buckley proclaimed his love for him, Eddie had smiled and quirked his eyebrow.
“Love you too, man.” It was the only logical answer to the statement made before him. For the split-second before Buck registered his words, before the man's face scrunched up, pained. Before his pursed lips and pleading eyes. All Eddie could feel was confusion because Buck wasn't one to state the obvious. Before Eddie comprehended the weight of Buck's words, he simply lived in the knowledge that Buck loved him.
And then it hit Him. Buck loved him. But Buck was also IN love with him. And that is a very big distinction.
He felt his eyes widen, his face freeze, a little slack-jawed. Fingers clench and unclench. The half-confused smile on his own expression vanished with only a weak imitation to cover for it.
Felt the sympathy as a tide pool in his chest, felt the expression that mirrored his feelings. He saw the wince on Buck's face and felt a deep sorrow for him. His best friend deserves love, and after Abby and all the girls following, after Tommy and his ‘not your last’. He felt sorrow for his friend deep and guttural and so very sympathetic.
“Shit.” It pretty much summed up this situation, and as the expletive passed his lips, he couldn't help the way it rang true in the stillness between them.
Buck bit his lip and turned his gaze down to the beer in his hands. They were side by side on Eddie's couch, a position they have found themselves in numerous times within the last seven or so years. Well, he guesses it's his and Bucks' couch now, since they technically live together. And oh, doesn't that just add a whole other layer to Bucks' words.
He quickly averts his eyes and stares firmly at the TV, which was powered down. He can practically feel Buck wince. The silence stretches for a beat longer. Eddie breaths a deep shuddering breath and places his beer on the coffee table in front of him, straightening up. He can feel Buck's eyes on him again.
“Okay, right.” he swallows, or more like gulps, before he turns full body back in the direction of Buck. The other man has still barely moved and is still sporting that pitiful expression of guilt.
The issue here is that, well, he's straight. Eddie not buck, becouse Bucks bisexual but Eddies straight. Eddie's been straight for as long as he's known the difference between gay and straight. He told that priest he was straight, not even a couple of months ago, before shaving off his moustache and dancing half naked in his living room, finding joy and all that.
“Sorry,” the man mutters dejectedly into his drink and stares down into the glass bottle.
“Hey, don’t-” he stutters “d-don’t do that.” Buck nods, but Eddie bets he's going to get another apology by the end of the night. “Okay, well, you know I can’t- just, Buck”, Eddie pleads, practically begging Buck to understand. He knows Buck does; he can see it in the other man's eyes. The simultaneous hurt but understanding. Each word Eddie mutters seemingly makes it worse.
He doesn't want to lose Buck. Eddie really doesn't want to lose Buck. Like, insane levels of doesn't want this man to untangle their lives, doesn't want Buck to leave.
And he's reminded of why Buck had said the exact words of “Because I love you.”
He and Chris returned for good a couple of weeks ago, and Buck is still looking for a place. The LA housing market is atrocious, and he's just helping with rent while Eddie sells the place in El Paso and a million other excuses as to why Buck should stay just another day. So Eddie had just suggested Buck stay for a little longer.
His eyes flicker to the tablet that has a listing for two-bedroom apartments in LA open. This feels like a strange deja vu moment, but flipped. It's the same tablet he used to look for houses in El Paso. He feels a lump in his throat, and he feels a little crazy because he doesn't want Buck to leave. Even after Buck confessed that, even if it meant sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future, even if he had to straight up date the man to never make him leave, he'd do that just so he wouldn't go.
And that thought made Eddie feel insane. Like, objectively insane.
“Buck,” he stares cluelessly at his best friend “, what's the outcome here?” He pleads for eye contact, and when he eventually gets it, the lump in his throat feels like it's choking him.
Buck licks his lips “Well, t-top choice is you say it back, like-like how I meant it, obviously.” Eddie feels himself nod a little, his lips feel numb. And that really should worry him, but he would rather listen to what Buck has to say.
There's a ruthful chuckle from Buck, and a large hand sweeps through his dirty blond curls. “What I kinda expect to happen is for you to-you to let me leave.”
That throws Eddie, like, actually, he’d be less surprised if Buck were to straight up slap him. For some reason, he feels that all too familiar sting of tears creep into his eyes.
“Let you leave?” he questions, because he's not bound Buck here, Buck can leave whenever he wants to. His eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Buck, what do you mean by that?”
“I mean, whenever I approach the topic of leaving, you shut it down, and Eddie-” he says the name like a prayer, like desperation claws its way out of his throat “-I can't do it anymore.”
Okay, maybe Eddie has been doing that a little. He just got back, granted that was over a month ago, but he's not seen Buck for months before this. He thought, well, he thought Buck wanted to stay. He’s reminded of a conversation with Shannon, not one instance, but all the arguing has morphed into a script in his mind. ‘I can't do it anymore’ is Shannon's line. The one right before she leaves. Exit stage left, gone forever, until she was really gone forever.
“It? I-I thought you wanted to be here.” There's venom behind the words, almost an accusation, and he can feel his voice rise in volume without his consent. Buck's eyes soften, and it makes him feel like a piece of shit.
“More than anything,” and Buck is left floundering for a moment at his own words. Eddie isn't any better.
“Then why’d you say?–” He's not sure whether he’s talking about the love confession or the fact that Buck doesn't want to leave. He always thought Buck had the abandonment issues between them, but Eddie is slowly learning he might have a few himself.
Buck puts his hands in his lap and gulps a little. “Eddie, when you were gone, I had a few conversations with some people–”
“Who?” he cuts through, for some reason, he has to know. Buck licks his lips.
“Maddie”, Eddie nods, makes sense. His sister he'd talk to her. “And- and Tommy.”
“Why were you talking to Tommy again?" and Eddie can't seem to soften his voice; he sounds jealous, which is strange. He's not. He's just being protective. Tommy hurt Buck, and he was there when Eddie wasn't there for Bobby's death. Anyway-
“This is starting to feel like an interrogation,” Buck mutters. Eddie's teeth clack at the strength of his jaw shutting. His teeth clench, “Sorry”, he mumbles. Buck's eyes go wide for a second. Eddie is genuinely impressed that none of them has fled yet.
“Um- well. Anyway, they both said a few, actually, they pointed out a few things about u-us” Buck backtracks “or not us, about me, in relation to us. If that makes sense.” and Bucks rambling and despite the weird conversation, or is this an argument, it's nice to be able to hear him talk not over face time. A screen with limited pixels couldn't pick up the microexpressions of Buck's face like Eddie's eyes do.
"Like, Maddie asked if I was in love with you- no, she implied it and then asked if it would be so bad. Which, obviously, yes, it would be. But that’s not the point." He feels like they should be standing if it's an argument. Don't most arguments happen when both parties are standing? He finds it weird that he's in the lounge and sitting. All his fights seem to happen in kitchens. Except maybe that fight with his parents about wanting to keep Chris. That could be subconsciously adding to the twist of pain in his gut.
“Really?” Buck gives Eddie a look. Not a bad one, just a ‘you know what I mean’ kind of look and ‘don't take that like being in love with you is something bad’ look. He hates himself a little that he can read that in the spaces between his words and the contortions of his face. Maybe he hates the fact that Buck could read him well enough that, without even a sound, he knew where Eddie's mind was going. Or maybe he doesn't hate anything because he's not sure if anyone else can read Buck like Eddie can, because he's not sure why anyone would willingly leave him if they could.
Then, as that thought passes, he remembers he left Buck. No matter how unwillingly it was, and even though they kept in touch, he already missed things in Buck's life. Things that could have been prevented, like for no particular reason at all, Tommy.
Eddie clears his throat with one heavy cough. “Buck I, uh, I don't know what to do here,” he says “I’m straight,” he states, like a moron, and he's vividly thrown back to a priest and a talk about choosing happiness. “But I don't want you to leave.”
It strikes him suddenly how flipped his relationship with Buck is with his past girlfriends. For example, he asked Anna to leave after she stayed for too long. He asked Marisol to move out as soon as she moved in, and even Shannon, where they spent their whole relationship running from each other. After all those women and all this time, he doesn't want Buck to leave.
And actually, maybe there's something to Eddie comparing Buck to his past relationships.
Buck looks on at the Black screen of the TV, all glassy eyes and tense jaw. “Eddie. I just- just said-”
Fuck that. Fuck Evan Buckley for making Eddie love him. He doesn't even care how or what kind of love it is. Fuck Buck for being so lovable, so reliable and then stripping it away.
“Fuck you.” Oh, and there's the Diaz rage that he's all but passed down to Chris. Smashing salad bowls and buying plane tickets and fits of rage after nightmares when Buck didn't show during the lawsuit. He guesses that he and Chris are similar in their reaction when Buck is gone.
He leans forward and covers his lower face with a hand, angrily dragging it down and then rubbing it hard over his eyes. An angry swallow and a sharp, ragged breath next. After a minute of calming himself so he doesn't accidentally punch Buck, he looks over to the other man.
There are tears on Buck's face.
When their eyes catch, a small sob breaks free of Buck. “I'm sorry.” It’s Buck's turn to wipe away his tears “Eddie, I’m so sorry- I know, I'm sorry, alright. I didn't mean to, I wouldn't have if I had known.”
Eddie would tell him to stop speaking if he could only get a single sound past the razor-sharp point of his teeth that would contort any sound his soft palate made into vitriol.
“I know”, Eddie eventually chokes out, it's hoarse, sad and phlegmy with the tears that won’t subside. “Buck, I know.”
As predicted, it doesn't help. Pleading eyes look at him through wet blond lashes. Pouty lips quivering. Eyebrows scrunching inwards, warping his birthmark. He grips at Bucks' shaking shoulder, harder than he probably needs to. It's to keep him still, here, it's what Eddie tells himself, not that he needed his best friend right now, needed to touch in some way to ground himself.
“We’ll be fine,” he tells Buck. Buck jerkily nods, but there is distrust in his eyes. It hurts more than it should. “Trust me. We, me and you-” with his free hand, he gestures between him and Buck. “We'll be fine,” and it's with a steadiness he doesn't possess, he lets go of Buck. If he expects Buck to trust him, then he needs to trust Buck.
They stare and wipe their eyes. Heavy breathing is heard throughout the room. They move so they are back staring at the black TV screen.
“You can’t leave.” He sees Buck nod again in his peripheral vision.
Not much more is spoken that night. They drink the rest of their beer in near silence. They head to bed, the same bed, facing away from each other. In the quiet when their breathing has evened out and sleep is trying to cloud his brain, there is a quiet whisper from Bucks' side of the bed.
“I’m sorry.”