#ok i understand ppl would take the romancey route here#but imagine the werewolfâs mother#or grandmother#some wizened old woman or middle aged woman#with wrinkles or hands toughened from years of labor#just going out into the woods#where even the men with axes wonât go anymore#and facing down the ravening beast#and saying#itâs time to come home
part two of (pretending you were) just some lover, without which this will make no sense.
it's tommy's turn to leave a series of increasingly unhinged voicemails. he at least has the excuse of being loopy on painkillers, i guess? don't throw things at me, there will be a third part where they actually talk in person
Buck spends the next three days at the hospital. Sal takes one look at him and gets him added to the list of approved visitors. Buck's so grateful that he has to go cry in the bathroom for a couple of minutes.
When he gets back, Sal hands him a coffee and says, "He was really looking forward to seeing you tonight."
Buck focuses on breathing, on the feel of the coffee cup warming his cold, trembling hands.
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh. Wouldn't shut the fuck up about it."
Buck nods, sniffs, tries not to cry again.
"Hey," Sal says, knocking their shoulders together. "Don't sweat it, kid. Guy's a fucking cockroach, he'll be fine."
Sal has a wife and three kids, not to mention a station to run, so he doesn't stay the whole time, but he calls to check in a lot, and he comes by a couple times. Buck gets to meet his wife too, which is nice. She's a spitfire, and Buck understands immediately how she and Sal work together.
He's happy Tommy has them in his corner. A little sad that he didn't get to know them better the first time around.
He desperately doesn't want to leave while Tommy's still unconscious, but he also doesn't want to try to explain to Chim that he needs some time off to sit by his ex's bedside. He doesn't know why he hasn't told anyone that he and Tommy are talking again, other than he justâŠdoesn't want to know what they might say. That in itself felt huge â the first time around he'd wanted to know and been afraid to ask. Now, he justâŠdoesn't care to hear it.
The shift is fine. Busy, but fine. No matter what anyone thinks, Buck's enough of a professional that when he's in the field, he's one hundred percent in the field. In between calls, he checks his phone, calls the hospital for updates a couple times, texts with Sal a little. Mostly, he keeps his head down, and tries to stop hearing the sound of the machines that have been breathing for Tommy.
When the shift ends, Buck's standing at his locker, half-hearing the chatter around him and a shock of relief-anxiety-elation-terror goes through him when he looks at his phone. He hasâŠa lot of missed calls. From Tommy. He also has voicemails. WhichâŠsuggests Tommy's awake, at least.
He also has a text from Sal and happily he sees the preview before he does anything else because it says, in all caps, HE IS FINE, HE'S JUST BEING A DRAMATIC LITTLE BITCH. COME TO THE HOSPITAL.
Buck breathes through the anxiety and shoves his phone into his pocket, grabs his stuff, and books it out to the parking lot. He doesn't want to hang around here in case anyone tries to grab him for something or other, so he throws the truck into gear and peels out of the lot, finding a quiet spot around the corner where he can park up and, with trembling fingers, calls his mailbox.
The first message starts to play.
"Hey, Evan. I'm really sorry I missed our dinner. I was really looking forward to it, but I, uh." Tommy huffs a dry little laugh, and Buck can see the sardonic quirk to his lips. "I got held up at work. Maybe we can reschedule?"
Buck huffs out a shaky laugh and wipes his hand over his eyes. God, Tommy's such a fucking dork. Buck's crazy about him.
The next message starts to play automatically and Tommy's tone is different in a way that makes something small and anxious curl in Buck's stomach.
"So, you know something? You're right. About all of it. I did have one foot out the door, because I knew it wouldn't last. Because, Evan, you never called me your boyfriend. Well, okay, you did. Once. At a funeral for a cowboy when there was no one else within hearing distance. I don't even think you realized. I tried. I told myself, you know what, Tommy? If you like this guy â and you do â if you want it to be different with him â and you do â then you have to do things differently. You have to let him in. You have to try. And I did. I did try. At first. I'd try to bring things up, try to start conversations. Try to open up like everyone always tells me I should. And I got nothing. And that's â "
Buck listens to Tommy take a ragged breath before he goes on, "That's fine. But you don't get to pretend that I was the only one keeping up the arm's length. You just don't, Evan."
Buck feels like he's swallowed a too-big ice cube, something cold and hard snaking down his throat to settle in his gut like a rock. He racks his brain. He did call Tommy his boyfriend, right? He must have. He must have. He thought it all the time. Did he really never say it aloud? Shit. Shit.
He almost doesn't want to listen to the next message, but he feels like he owes it to Tommy. Owes it to himself to actually hear the other man.
"And another thing, Evan," Tommy's voice says, disembodied and sharp. "You let that woman hit on you, when we were out for our six month anniversary. That first time, with Eddie, with hot chicks, I thought okay, well, I was a nervous wreck my first date with a guy. That's understandable. But six months? Six months, Evan? And you couldn't even find it in yourself to shut down the least subtle lead-in to someone asking for your number that I've ever seen? If I needed any more confirmation that you were in it for a good time, not a long time, that would have been it."
Buck already feels like shit about that one â he didn't in the immediate aftermath, too busy reeling from the Abby revelation butâŠyeah. He knows that was shitty. He knows that move. He's made that move. He spent so much time after Tommy walked out on him wondering if it might have gone differently if it had occurred to him to say, sorry, it's a special occasion, I'm sure the waiter would help you out. Or even hey, my boyfriend's a much better photographer than me. Babe, you wanna? But he's not sure if he really thought that â that it might have hurt Tommy. Pissed him off, given him doubts, sure. But hurt him?
Buck doesn't think he realized he had the power to do that. WhichâŠmaybe that's on Tommy for leaning into his cool-guy schtick so hard he had everyone fooled, but maybe it's on Buck's too for not even trying to see past it.
"You know," the next message begins. "I think the first thing I ever told you about myself is that I get jealous. It's not â I'm not proud of it. But I did tell you that. And you know, I â I put my foot in my mouth. I shouldn't have made it sound like I was happy Eddie wasn't around. But I didâŠI don't think you even know how many times you blew me off because he needed something. Or Hen, or Howie, or Bobby, or Maddie. And it's not likeâŠI didn't expect I'd be your number one priority all the time. But it just felt likeâŠlike there was thisâŠthis wall. And I realized pretty quick that I was never gonna get on the inside of that wall. So if you think I was playing the cool guy, being the easy-going first boyfriend thenâŠthen that's why. It's because everything you said and everything you did until you asked me to move in with you out of nowhere told me that was what you wanted. I fucked up, I know that. But you don't get to act like that came out of nowhere. So maybe â maybe next time you find yourself dating someone who'sâŠwho's lonely and â and â god, who just doesn't think they're anything like good enough for you, maybe you could try to see them."
Buck feels like he's been hollowed out. Try to see them. He's spent so much of his life feeling like people â his parents, his friends, his girlfriends, god, even in his most secret heart, Maddie and the 118 â don't really see him. And knowing that maybe he did that too, to Tommy of all people, makes him feel sick and small and so, so guilty. Because sure, maybe Tommy had his walls up, maybe Tommy put on a front a lot of the time, but he did tell Buck he got jealous. He did tell him that. And Buck justâŠbrushed it off, didn't think about it again after that first night, that first kiss, because he was so busy thinking that Tommy was cool and fun, and being excited about this whole new world.
He curls his hand into a fist and taps it against his thigh a few times. He kind of desperately doesn't want to hear the next one, doesn't want to know all the other ways he fucked up from Tommy's perspective, but he lets it play anyway.
"I left Diaz's house that morning and I thought, okay, you know what? Let that be an end to it. It's not the ending you wanted, but it's an ending. And thenâthen you called me. And you know there was a second, just a second where I thought oh my god. Is thisâŠis heâŠdoes he want me? Does he want to talk to me? See me? Try again? Did he see that I was hurt and want to fix it?
"The idea that you might just have wanted something from me never even occurred to me. Which is justâŠpathetic, right? I think that's the worst part. You make me pathetic, Evan. And I have tried so hard not to be that anymore. Christ." Tommy sniffs, just once, and Buck feels like his heart is breaking. "Hey, you wanna hear pathetic? I can't go back to my karaoke trivia place because I got wasted and sang You Don't Have To Say You Love Me then went and cried in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. So. Thanks for that. You'll always be the guy who ruined Dusty Springfield for me."
Buck swears under his breath. He doesn't know that song, but he knows for sure he's going to look it up later and probably feel even worse if the title is anything to go by.
The next message plays, and this time Tommy's voice has gone from sharp-edged and hurt to small and tired.
"Did you really hate Moulin Rouge that much?" he asks. "I wish you would have said. Maybe we could have found something that suited us both. Story of my life, huh? I really â I really, really want you to be happy, Evan."
Buck looks unseeingly out of the window of his truck and carefully loosens his white-knuckled grip on his phone. He feels like he's run five miles at top speed, like he's overloaded a barbell and done too many reps, like he's been awake for twenty four hours.
The breath he drags in feels like it's burning his lungs.
He wants to go home. He wants to hide from the world, from the knowledge that they've probably hurt each other way too much to come back from.
He's so, so tired of making mistakes with Tommy.
He counts to ten. Does it again.
Puts his truck in gear and heads for the hospital.
what's a little fooling around between friends? + salbucktommy please
JESS! Of course! Sorry this got a bit longer than I expected but just... these three *deep breath* I hope you enjoy!
~*~
Sal tries to make his escape as quietly as he can. It's hard because the nicer bathroom is connected to the master bathroomâand curse Tommy for renoing his house with such a stupid layoutâ and Sal doesn't trust how wobbly his legs are to get him to the other smaller bathroom across the house.
He manages to clean himself up, does a decent enough job with the wash cloth he finds in the shower stall, and Sal definitely tries not to focus on how strongly Tommy's body wash smells in here. He swipes some of the moisturizer he knows is Bucksâhas heard him complain about the cost and watched him put it on enough times by nowâ and hisses when it hits the beard burn and teeth marks that dot his jaw and neck. There's small finger tip bruises dotted along his hips and up his sides, and on his back, over his left shoulder blade Sal can feel the way the imprint of teeth throb in time with his heart beat.
Christ. The crew are going to give him so much shit for this.
Sal considers grabbing Tommy's sweater that's hanging on the back of the bathroom door, all of him wants too. But all of him also wants to just step back into the bedroom and crawl back under the sheets andâ
Sal shakes his head and carefully opens the bathroom door, wincing as it creaks in the dark of the bedroom. Faint morning light is starting to creep through the window and Sal knows it'll be enough to wake Tommy before long. His friend lives and dies by the sun most days. Except last night.
Last night when their weekly hangoutâwhen Sal feels like he's intruding on their date night despite how they tell him he's notâand they drank enough beer and tequila to blur the lines Sal had been trying so hard to keep in the sand despite the slowly rising tide.
A quick scan of the floor yields Sal's pants, and he slips them on with a wince as fire licks up his spine. An ache he'll savour, a reminder of the wayâ
"Where do you think you're going?"
Sal flinches, ducks and freezes all at once. Leaves him half twisted around to look at where Tommy's propped himself up on an elbow, watching Sal from his spot in the bed. Heart in his throat, Sal tears his eyes away from everything he's been wanting for the past two years. Ever since Buck and Tommy got their shit back together and then proceeded to keep inviting Sal into more and more aspects of their now intertwined lives.
And like the weak man he was, Sal fucking went. Went knowing that it would eventually end exactly like it is now.
"H-Hey, didn't mean to wake you." Sal whispers, aiming for normal as his eye go back to the floor, continuing to search of his shirt. Fuck but maybe he'll just grab the one of Buck's he can see and just mail it back to them later. Not sure how he's survive the look on Buck's face, the one that would be so sweet and kind while still telling him 'never again'. Maybe it's good that Tommy was the one woke up. He's good at hiding from Tommy⊠but Buck? Evan⊠Fuck the kid somehow sees right through him. He finally spots the corner of his t-shirt and sighs a breath of relief as he picks it up. "Thanks for last night."
"You're thanking us." Tommy huffs.
"After all, w-what's a little fooling around between friends right? " Sal chuckles. Fake, and a little too loud in the dim of the room. "Ain't gotta mean anything but I, but I should probably go-"
"I told Evan you'd be sticking around for breakfast." Tommy says, gentle yet firm. In that controlled way he usually keeps for the cockpit. "I think it's the only reason he even fell asleep."
Sal inhales sharply. Because what?
Tommy lifts a bitchy eyebrow, one that loses no potency for the pillow case lines on his cheek, or the bit of sleep still clinging to his insanely long lashes. He pushes back the last of the blankets and stands.
Gods, he's beautiful. And Sal has looked before, but not like this. He's never known the way Tommy tasted, the way he sounded, face twisted up in pleasure. Sal's had Tommy's hands on him for years, but not in the places he touched last night. Skin and feelings that came alive as Buck panted in his ear.
Golden skin and tawny brown chest hair almost glows in the faint light as Tommy stalks towards him, naked and stunning in a way that puts all the Italian sculptors Sal knows to shame.
Tommy gets just within arms reach of him before hooking his fingers into the waistband of Sal's jeans and tugging.
Sal doesn't stumble, just lets Tommy lead him into closeness. Lets his eyes fall closed as he's pulled into a gentle kiss, one that makes his toes curl in the stupidly fuzzy mat Buck bought for the room. Their breath is stale with the faintest hint of beer and spunk and⊠Sal thinks he should pull away. Should get some distance.
But when Sal does pull back, there's such a deep look of want and hunger in Tommy's eyes that Sal thinks he can feel his self preservation simply roll over and give up.
"Come back to bed." Tommy whispers, voice softer now. Like he saw the way Sal gave into himâinto themâ so easily last night and wants him to keep doing that.
Sal opens his mouth to object, but Tommy's hand moves from his jeans, to settle sleep warm and strong on his hip and suddenly he can't. He just nods and lets Tommy kiss him once more, like a reward for good behaviour, before Sal drops the shirt and lets Tommy guide him back towards the bed.
"Bedisanopantszone." Buck grumbles hand coming up out of his cocoon of blankets to point at Sal the moment they hit the edge of the mattress.
Even Tommy startles, so Sal doesn't feel so bad at nearly jumping out of his skin. Tommy recovers first and his hands settle on Sal's waist before sliding around to the button of his jeans, and it's so much like the previous night that Sal feels his heart rate tick up at the motion.
Sal kicks them away when Tommy pushes them down far enough, and Sal feels Tommy's hand settle low on his back, but⊠Sal's already going. Stepping back up to the bed and crawling in until he's close enough for buck to grab him.
"Told you." Buck grumbles, sleepy blue eyes barely cracked open as he gives Tommy a flat unimpressed look. "I know my runners."
Tommy winces and Sal frowns glancing between them, but then Tommy's sliding back into bed behind him and the next thing Sal knows Buck is pressed along his front, arms and legs wrapping around him like an octopus.
Sal falls onto his back and Buck easily goes with him adjusting his hold until Sal is pinned to the mattress and Buck can rest his head on Sal's pec.
It's not⊠awful.
He wants to laugh at himself, Sal does. Because this is fucking everything he only ever dreamed of and Sal knows he's going to get used to this so quickly. He glances at Tommy who is already watching them like; yes, this is right. This is the only place any of us should be.
And in the marrow of his marrow, Sal doesn't want to be anywhere else either.
He drops his head back onto the pillow, before letting it fall sideways to rest on Tommy's arm, even as his own come up and wrap around Buck. Not that the other man needs any help to stay close, Sal's sure he's going to start overheating any second nowâŠ
I present to you 650 words of the beginning of my take on Buck transferring to the 122 under Sal. It'll eventually lead to a tevan reunion, but I want to do it from Ravi and Buck's pov to switch it up. I will also be adding it to the make me write that I have going right now. So feel free to request more of the 122 transfer fic đ and enjoy Ravi's pov to start off.
-
âHey Buck,â Ravi greets as he walks into the locker room at the start of shift. He expects to get the typical, âMorning Rav,â from him. Instead he finds Buck staring blankly at the locker in front of him. Ravi canât help but notice that itâs a little emptier than the last shift.Â
âBuck?â he prompts again when there is no sign that Buck heard him. âYou good?â Ravi asks.
Buck jumps and itâs clear that he was in his own world, but he nods in response to Raviâs question and starts slowly getting ready for their shift. He had been like that a bit more lately. Ravi knew Buck was probably taking Bobbyâs death hard, even if he didnât necessarily see it most days. Buck was the one checking in with him the most and he really appreciated it, but he always brushed off Raviâs offer to talk. The others didnât seem worried, so he was assuming Buck was just grieving in his own way.Â
The first time he became really worried was when Buck said he was transferring. He never thought the man who chased him with a chainsaw to make sure Ravi was worthy of taking over his spot, would ever willingly leave the 118. Ravi studied Buck out of the corner of his eye and now that he paid more attention, he could see the tension and exhaustion in his face and the way he held himself. He hadnât taken the time to look beyond what Buck was telling him to see that he wasnât doing well.Â
Heâs about to ask how heâs really doing when Buck whispers, âIâm still transferring.â
Ravi stills to think through the best way to respond. He had really thought that Chimâs speech had been enough to convince him to stay. It had been for Eddie and he had bought a house in Texas, so Ravi just assumed that Buck had pulled the transfer papers. Guess he was wrong.Â
âYouâre not gonna bring out the chainsaw on me again are you?â Ravi eventually asks, deciding to try and lighten the mood.Â
Buck stares at him for a second before he catches on, cracking a small smile that didnât quite reach his eyes, âNah. You earned your spot here a long time ago Rav. No chainsaw required.â
âAre you sure this is what you want to do?â Ravi asks.Â
âYeah, I am.â
Ravi nods, thatâs good enough for him. âWell Iâm gonna miss you. Despite our rocky start Iâve learned a lot from you. But like you said to Hen, you gotta do whatâs best for you. I admire you for that.â
Buck looks surprised that Raviâs not fighting him on it. He canât blame the guy. Seems like every time Buck decides to do something heâs either asking for advice from the team or they try and talk him out of it. Heâs glad to see Buck doing something for himself.Â
Since Buck doesnât seem like heâs able to say anything right now, Ravi continues, âIs that why youâre slowly cleaning out your locker?â
Buck nods, âToday is my last shift.â
Wow, thatâs quick. He doesnât know why Buck hadnât told anyone, so he asks, âDoes Chim know?â
Chimney had taken over the role of captain for the last few shifts while the chief decided on whether or not it could be permanent. It seems like something the interim captain should know about.Â
âI-â, Buck sighs, âIâm going to tell him right now. Just psyching myself up.â
Ravi nods, âDo you know where youâre going?âÂ
âA-shift at the 122, under Captain Deluca,â Buck replies.
Ravi thinks that name sounds familiar, but heâs not sure why because Tommy immediately comes to mind when he hears it. Weird.Â
âWell, donât be a stranger. If you need anything- well, not anything, I wonât steal a helicopter for you. But if you need a friend⊠Iâm here,â Ravi offers, hoping that Buck sees it as the outstretched hand it is.
Currently Watching : I need to finish watching the latest episodes of "9-1-1", "The Rookie", "NCIS", and "The Pitt". And then I'd like to start watching "The Other Bennet Sister" and "Half Man".
Currently reading : "Bog Queen", by Anna North. And fanfics, obviously!
Current Obsession : Sal Deluca, MY MAN !!
Currently Working on : Apart from my job in a bookstore, nothing special!
Last Search : After reading articles on Wikipedia, I looked for the marks left by whips on the skin (especially for runaway slaves who were caught)...
Current Desktop picture : A photo of a bird that I took a few years ago in Normandy.
HiAUtus: Gimme your best Hoodie facts/AU/Divergence etc! Heheh
Giggles madly... I do what I want.
For @thecarrottt, who wanted Hoodie vibes and @chimneyschewinggum, who asked about the lightning strike...
 Salâs working a multi-car pile-up a few blocks over when the call crackles through, âlightning strike, firefighter down.â Salâs gut drops before dispatch even says the name. Heâs barking orders, but his lieutenant shoves the keys to the SUV into his hand and orders, âGo. Weâve got this.â Sal doesnât argue. He pulls up to the scene just as theyâre loading Buck into the ambulance, blond hair matted with rain and blood, body limp in the rain-slick turnout gear. Sal doesnât ask permission; he just climbs in, knees hitting the floor beside the gurney. Eddieâs already doing compressions, face tight with grief. Sal grips Buckâs cold hand the whole ride. âDonât you dare tap out on us, mook. Not after you finally let us keep you.â He doesnât realize heâs shaking until a paramedic tries to check his vitals. Meanwhile, Bobbyâs on the phone with Tommy because Sal literally canât form words when they finally reach the hospital, but he hears Bobbyâs voice shatters as he tells Tommy. âEvanâs down.â
Tommyâs mid-sortie when the call comes through, but he lands the chopper hard enough to make his head mechanic yell after him as Tommy sprints for his truck and breaks every speed limit getting to Cedars. By the time he burst into the waiting room, Salâs pacing with Buckâs LAFD shirt they cut off him clutched in white knuckles. Tommy doesnât say much; he just pulls Sal into a crushing hug right there in front of the whole 118, then sinks into the chair beside him. When Sal wonât stop shaking, muttering about three minutes and seventeen seconds, brain damage. Tommy goes out to his truck and comes back with one of Buckâs hoodies and tosses it at his husband. The waiting is brutal. Every beep of a machine, every update from the doctors, chips away at the stability theyâve built these last few years. Sal mutters at one point about how Buck was finally sleeping through the night without nightmares about the truck bombing.
Buck wakes up in their bedroom, the one with the wide bed they picked out to fit all three of them, the big windows looking out on the backyard where Gremlin likes to hunt leaves. Except Sal and Tommy arenât there. The house is too quiet. He looks over lesson plans and smooths a hand over a soft green teacherâs sweater; there are no bombing scars on his leg, no calluses from years on the job. His parents actually see him. Maddie is safe and happy. Daniel is alive, thriving, and the whole Buckley family feels healed. They have weekly Friday dinners. It should be perfect. It should be everything he once wanted. But the house keeps glitching. There are three toothbrushes in the bathroom. A half-finished grocery list in Salâs handwriting on the kitchen counter (âoat milk for the giant child, rocky road for Tommy, do not buy store pasta.â). Tommyâs favorite ice cream is in the freezer. And the hoodies, God, the hoodies. One draped over the couch that smells exactly like Salâs aftershave. Another folded on the bed thatâs way too big for him. He doesnât remember these men, not fully. This life where they never met. Yet every time he tries to settle into this âlife,â he starts catching fragments in dreams within the dream: Salâs gruff laugh echoing in the kitchen, Tommyâs hands correcting his position while weightlifting, the three of them tangled together with Gremlin purring at their feet. The bathroom remodel plans.
The longer Buck stays under, the more his brain tries to convince him this safe life is better. Thereâs no risk of losing the 118, no lightning, no fear of being too much for his husbands. But the glitches get louder. He sees flashes of what heâd lose: Sal and Tommy grieving at his bedside (real-world echoes bleeding through). Daniel walks in and shakes his head sadly. âEvan,â he says gently, âyouâre doing it again. Ever since that bomb scare at your school three years ago gave you that concussion⊠youâve been mourning this life youâve never actually had. Fire station, the two husbands, the cat who thinks he owns the place. I thought we were past this. Youâve never been a firefighter.â Daniel gestures around the Deluca-Kinard house like itâs a delusion Buck keeps retreating into. The dream-Buck (the teacher version) looks at him in the mirror with sad eyes Buck knows too well and says, âTheyâre better off without your chaos.â Thatâs the breaking point. Buck realizes the hoodie heâs clutching in the dream isnât just fabric... itâs proof. Proof that even when his brain tried to build a world without them, it couldnât. He chooses the messy, terrifying, real life where heâs loved so fiercely it hurts and scares him stupid. He fights his way back because Sal and Tommy are waiting, and for once, the fear of not being enough loses to the certainty that he already is. He knows they will grieve him just as fiercely as he has grieved them in this reality for years.
When Buck finally opens his eyes, the first thing he registers is the feeling of both their hands gripping his. Salâs callused grip on the left is tight and trembling in a way Buck has never felt before. He cracks an eye open, hoarse and raspy from the tube, and manages a weak grin. âBathroom remodel might need to wait a few more months.â Sal lets out a sound thatâs half-laugh, half-sob and drops his forehead to Buckâs arm, his shoulders shaking with the kind of relief that only comes after watching your partner flatline for three minutes and seventeen seconds in the back of an ambulance. Tommy kisses his temple before he quickly steps out to the waiting room to tell everyone Buckâs awake and talking.
Bonus: The recovery is slow and painfulâheadaches, legs that forget how to hold him, waves of vertigo that drop him without warning. But the real turning point comes in the quiet nights that follow, when Sal finally lets himself talk about those 3:17, how the image of Buckâs slack face in the rain kept replaying every time he closed his eyes. Tommy admits to the panic attacks he had in the bathroom over the crushing weight of imagining a future without Buck. Buck tells them about his coma-dream, how real it felt, how cozy and safe it felt but how it felt like that reality was trying to steal him from this world. âIt was everything I used to think I wanted. But it wasnât home.â
stormborns
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
kianamaiart
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
