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But you know that you're needing it, And you know that you need it bad { Chapter Two }

Prefer to read on A03?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/73014256/chapters/190719736#workskin

Buck misses Bobby, there's no way of denial, with how much his captain's on his mind. There's no question that Bobby's death has hurt him indescribably, it was hurting him day in and day out. It hurt even when he would try to focus on his favorite memories only to find that many of his treasured memories had been created with the man.

Personally, Buck would say that hurt more. Because Buck was finding that Bobby was a part of everything. And seeing Bobby in everything, even his own memories, well - it hurt. But not in the way his father had hurt him, he was finding that out too. This pain was different than that, the kind of pain losing someone to death brought to him wasn't a physical kind of pain, meaning it wasn't like the pain his father had always inflicted upon him.

And let Buck tell you, his father had done that a lot - Phillip Buckley had never been shy when it came to hurting him. Some days, Buck even looked back on it and wondered if his progenitor had enjoyed it. Buck wondered if hurting him had just been a way of passing time when it came to Phillip.

It seemed that way to him.

In light of that, the first time his father had gotten physically violent with him, he'd been young. That's the first thing Buck remembers. When Buck often designates himself with the task of reflecting on it, he knows that the first time that his parents' abuse had progressed, the first time it'd been more than the sharp verbal and edged emotional lashings they'd given him more often than not, he'd been very young. Too young. Thinking of himself that age as an adult now, Evan can't even fathom doing half the things his parents had done to him. Can't imagine hurting someone so small and fragile that they aren't even full-grown yet. There have been days in his life where Buck had looked at Christopher. And he'll envision seeing his adolescent self, even shorter and younger than Christopher is now, and he'll wonder how his father had ever looked at him and unapologetically harmed him or Maddie. Hell, he could never stomach the thought of anything along the lines ever being done like that to Christopher.

But Buck is not Christopher, not even close. Buck hadn't grown up with half as great of a father as Eddie is to Christopher. Buck hadn't grown up with anyone overly conscious of making mistakes, hadn't grown up with a father who was doing their best to break a family cycle. Buck hasn't been loved.

Whether or not he even was now had always been a detestable parley his mind so often liked to bring forth. Buck, as a child, hadn't been loved. And so, he had grown up wrong, fucked up.

Buck had grown up normalizing being hurt. And he carried that with him every day.

The earliest Buck can distinctly recall ever being hit by anyone, it had been by his father. He'd at the most he thinks he'd been six, there's no way he'd been even a year older. Maddie had been out hanging out with a friend that particular night, his mother holed away in his parents' shared bedroom, most likely gossiping over the phone about what a god awful kid he'd been being that night.

Which had left just him and his father together, something that Buck wished had never happened because things had gone from being tame between them to out of hand very quickly. Buck doesn't even remember what had been the cause of it, doesn't understand what had caused Phillip's temper to blow over at him.

He's just aware of the fact that it hadn't taken much. As far as being backhanded by his father had gone, it'd been swift, fortunately enough. It was over before Buck could even fathom the idea of defending himself.

It also didn't mean it was over. If it was a sign of anything, then it'd meant quite the opposite, really, It'd been an introduction to what was to come; the abuse has been mentally and physically daunting.

But even as a kid, Buck had been mentally strong and able-bodied; he always reminded himself of that.

And so, he could take it, couldn't he? He could handle it because he had to.

Yeah, he could take it.

He did handle it. He'd taken the abuse from his father, carrying it with him each day, even when he'd grown into a teenager, then to a young adult, and even now. The after effects of that abuse never seemed to rear their ugly head into his life as much as he'd thought it would. Given, there were times where it happened, times where no matter how much Buck tried to fight off the instinct of cringing, he couldn't.

Those times consisted of Bobby crowding into his space and shoving him in his earlier years of the 118 all those years ago, times like Chimney striking him, times like the nights during the lawsuit; of Eddie coming to him after illegally cage fighting, still all wound up and vexed. The vivid evocations had all had Buck thinking of Phillip Buckley in some way or another, and Buck had expected to be hurt in each of the memories.

Although even during the memory Buck had dug up from the lawsuit, Eddie'd never struck him, and is yet to actually hit him. It's surprising to him, really, nobody can be friends with Buck for as many years as Eddie had been and not have had the urge to hit him at least once. And yet, here Eddie is in Buck's life, serving as a literal opposition to that thought.

But, sometimes Buck thinks that that's too good to be true. That in due time, Eddie will have a moment of anger where Eddie'll fall in line the same way everyone else has before. That Eddie will eventually see that Phillip Buckley was right in hurting him. And Buck's like a spring, insides all coiled up just waiting for the day Eddie does so.

____

As he'd already addressed, at six years old Phillip Buckley had struck him. By and by, In some kind of sickening fascination, Buck had found himself possessing an interest that probably had him looking like some sort of a freak — he'd been detached to what had just happened to him. To what his father had just done. Picking himself up off the floor and tucking himself in to sleep after, because it was what he had to do. Because nobody was going to do it for him, so he might as well do it himself.

Right? Yeah, that was right.

Buck might've picked himself up and put himself back together after what his father had done, never so much as whispering a word about it to anyone. But it's not that he didn't care what had happened, it was more so that he'd seen it coming. Even at six years old you pick up on things, you pick up on behaviors. On the facial expressions of those around you when they see you.

Though you may not understand them and what they mean in their entirety. His parents had typically been cold, devoid of care. At six, Buck had enough letdowns, enough scoldings and stern talks for him to know that he wasn't liked. Much less loved by his mother or father. They took care of him dually out of obligation, and that was fine. Buck didn't need to bet on losing dogs to know that was never going to change.

So when he'd been hit by his father? He'd seen it coming, maybe he hadn't foresaw it coming that early on in his life. But he'd known it would happen at some point in his life. So what did it matter if it'd started a little early?

There'd been no tears from him after, no soft whimpering. He just let it be.

And when his dad let him be after, telling him to get out of the man's sight? He'd done just that, scampering away. He just stared at the bruise later, the one that had been growing underneath his eyelid, watched as it turned from a dark red mark to blue and yellow, changing seasons with each shade it developed into. It seemed to change colors with every apology that fell from his father's lips, every excuse that Buck numbly accepted. He had to accept them. There was no other way out of this if Buck hadn't wanted this to become a thing. Buck hadn't wanted to become one of those kids he'd seen so often at school. The ones who came to school with bruises that never seemed to fade away, always already replaced with a litter of new ones.

When the bruise had reached the point of becoming faded, it'd finally been commented on. He thinks his classmates hadn't thought to ask at that age, but when it had been commented on, Buck felt like all of his happiness had shriveled up and died right there with it. Because he'd had to lie. When his best friend in elementary school had asked him about it, all curiosity and smiles, he had an untrue explanation on his lips ready to go. Saying that he'd fallen off a playground and hit his face on the equipment, because in the end the apple really didn't fall far from the tree, it seemed.

Phillip Buckley lied constantly and lying has always come naturally to Buck, more than it should. Would it be so crazy of him to say that he doesn't think that habit's something he ever grew out of? Buck doesn't know.

_____

Howbeit, in the wake of it all, something in Buck had never forgotten of that hit, a part of himself obsessed over it.

Conversely, he chose to tell himself that it was deserved instead, reminding himself that a parent wouldn't choose to hit, to harm their child without reason. It helped that he'd been a problem child - always getting himself into trouble if it meant he'd been paid attention to. And so, it made sense that his father had resorted to such measures to get him in order. The same part of him often justified and legitimized the incident, he told himself that it wasn't a big deal if he did. That, that had been the first encounter he ever had of receiving a blow, and that instead of sulking about it, he might as well hunker down and get used to it.

So that's what he'd done to get by. It'd worked, had it not? He'd gotten out of his mother and father's clutches, had no longer needed to deal with the verbal taunts and physical abuse they gave. So it didn't matter that some part of Evan, even now as an adult, was still in that house where it'd happened. Always in that god-damned house, feeling confined to it. Like it described him. Like it reduced him to that same taunted kid he'd been in it.

And maybe he was.

No matter what, no matter what identity or name Buck tried to make for himself, Evan was always trapped in a mental solitude. Trapped in the solitude that his parents' treatment had left him in, alone because he'd always been alone. Also, it was Evan, who was little more than a boy trying to play make-believe and play hero. That's what his parents thought firefighting was and maybe their opinions did hang over his head at times, even now.

He didn't ever have to wonder why that was. It was hard to not let it all define him when inside he was still the same mishandled kid. The same kid that was born to be used as spare parts and nothing else, the same kid that was still licking his own wounds quietly to himself.

Only it was worse without Bobby here. Almost unendurable. Nothing had ever come even close to being unendurable for him, Buck was a durable person, or at least he'd thought he'd been, but even the most durable people only had so much they could handle. With no other feasible way he could think of explaining it, life lately, had been just that. It had felt like a bruise, not that one in particular but just one in general. Just existing ordinarily felt like a contusion that had ruptured vessels beneath it. Blossoming into something dark and ugly, taking much longer to fade than what anyone would've liked. And no matter how well concealed, bruises always demanded attention.

Just like him, just like his anguish. His grief. Because metaphorically, that's what this was. Grief was like a mark that never went away, or at least it was the way his is. He couldn't speak for others with how dissimilar grief tended to be.

Most days, Buck thinks it should've been him instead of Bobby. That Bobby had been foolish, foolish for saying that Evan Buckley of all people was needed, and even more so for making the decision for him — for dying instead of Buck.

He thinks Eddie knows, Eddie Diaz always knows. Subconsciously, Buck sometimes wished the elder didn't know him so well; sometimes, Buck thinks he'd feel less vulnerable not being perceived by Eddie at all.

He thinks that's why Eddie consistently voices on it, with phrases of — 'I'm telling you you've got to eat something, you're running off of fumes here, buddy,'

And,

'I know you want to do good. I know you want to find meaning in what's happened. But sometimes, Buck, sometimes there isn't one,' Eddie'll say, 'And throwing your life on the line isn't going to help that. Treating yourself so carelessly isn't going to bring him back for either of us,''

Or,

''The way you have been destroying yourself this way, as intricately as you are? Is on purpose,' Eddie'd accost, 'Don't think I don't see it. And if I'm not a motive enough for you to stop, then let him be. You know it's not what he would have wanted either,''

But Buck didn't know because Bobby wasn't here.

_____

You know, in retrospect, it's sort of funny, but by now, with him being in the earlier part of his thirties, Eddie Diaz had always arbitrarily expected to have had himself more figured out by now.

Which is a little crazy, just a little.

What's crazy about it is finite. To Eddie, it's crazy that he'd ever believed he could have had things together by now. Because it's crazy how much that is not the case, how much Eddie does not have it all together. He knows it's out of the question for a lot of people to obtain something like that. And that most people who did have themselves figured out in such a way often put in the work it took to sustain and maintain something like that. So the thought of him managing that without putting in the full effort to make that work may've been a little baseless and unsubstantiated. He knows that.

It'd been a nice objective he'd conjured up when he'd been somewhere in his twenties though.

Now, actually being at that age, he'd thought he'd have more figured out, he found pretty quickly that wasn't the case. He did not have much of anything figured out, he may even have less figured out than he had in his twenties.

In sooth, some days Eddie had trouble in figuring out what it was in his life that he did have figured out and whether he knew himself at all.

It wasn't easy reversing that train of thought when it'd already left the station and embarked on the journey of racing through his mind. But through plenty of introspection, Eddie was beginning to get better in understanding himself. So with some level of newfound certainty, Eddie understood himself better now. Knew what he was, what he wasn't, what he wanted in his and Christopher's life, and what he didn't.

And now knowing himself, he could say that If there's one thing Eddie knows he is not, it'd have to be naive. Eddie Diaz isn't that.

Eddie's not naive and if anything, he supposes it's why he wasn't one to ever be easily fooled.

Naivety isn't something he possesses; Edmundo isn't a dunderhead, he'd always given Buck the credibility in not being one either. Although lately his younger friend has been one. Because Buck seems to so earnestly be under the impression that Eddie isn't going to see that something's wrong with the other.

And that? That's stupid.

To him, it's clear as a bell that something's wrong with Buck, and it's not only affecting his best friend, Eddie's begun to let it get to him as well. It's getting to him, it's terrorizing Eddie day in and day out to know that something's wrong — yet being unable to do anything about it. Eddie's a fixer to his very roots; when he sees a problem with any of those he cares about, he needs to be the one to fix it. Needs to prove himself to be useful. It's how he shows that he cares. If it can't be through words or actions then it has to be shown through him doing his damnedest to fix what's troubling Buck.

There's been a poignant reminder, however, that Buck won't give that to him. Won't let him be there, don't let him fix anything. Buck just continues on with this hole in the middle of the man's heart, spewing hurt. But Buck won't let him be the tourniquet to the wound and that, that drives him nuts.

There's something that's wrong with Buck, but he tells himself Buck'll come to him when the blonde's ready, tells himself what he and Buck have is solid. Unbreakable.

They'll get through it in one way or another. He hadn't always caught a glimpse of that, hadn't immediately suspected something to be wrong with his hyperactive friend.

Somehow, Eddie was able to ignore it before, had been able to ignore it since he'd gotten back to LA. The nagging little feeling that he was missing something or that something was wrong, what exactly is an irretrievable thing to him. Because Eddie doesn't know.

First, he assumes it's the most obvious thing because it usually is the most usual thing that pesters and sits there until you acknowledge and deal with it. And so, he thinks it's Bobby. He has a hunch that this pit in his gut, this feeling is all because of one thing. His guilt. Because Bobby's dead, Eddie lives. Bobby's in the ground, and Eddie wasn't there. Eddie's never there when it matters.

He'll always be liable for that, never able to repent for what his absence in the 118 had generated. He thinks if he were there he might've been able to help create a different outcome, a better one. He thinks the outcome might've had Bobby in it, alive.

But Eddie wasn't there, wasn't fast enough in figuring out his own issues to be there, the same way he always seemed to be when something went down. He wasn't there for Bobby's death, wasn't there when his son and best friend were in the middle of a tsunami. No, he hadn't been there for that until after it, just like he hasn't been there for Bobby until after his captain ceased to be. He hadn't been there to stop Buck from filing that stupid lawsuit. And then, while we're on the topic of his best friend, he hadn't been fast enough to get Buck down before the lightning struck the blonde. And then hadn't been in the right position to pull Buck up from where the man'd been hanging. He'd just caterwauled and screamed Buck's name, desperately fisting at any part of Buck's body he could reach while trying to pull the unresponsive man up. Eddie was never present when things went on, or never fast enough to prevent them from happening. And losing Bobby, as well as almost losing his son to a tsunami, atop of the lightning strike that had almost taken Buck from him, were proof of that.

He'd always be wrought with guilt for that all. So his own culpability in Bobby's death is what he believes the nagging feeling is because of.

And he shoulders that just fine, Eddie gets through it. He sleeps like the dead for the first week; all thanks to sleeping pills he'd been taking to fend off the night terrors. And then, Eddie finds that this feeling hadn't been because of Bobby, like he'd thought it'd been at all. It'd been because of Buck. He gets that inkling the moment he wakes up at 3 AM one particular night with the fully formed thought his subconscious has been marinating: something's wrong with Buck.

It's almost laughable how the realization comes to him so suddenly at such an odd time. And that Eddie decides to go with it. But it does, and now that Eddie thinks into it, now that he can see past the ragged edges of his own emotions, he can acknowledge to himself that Buck is also stuck in his own awful maelstrom of grief.

He sees it. And he wonders why he hadn't seen it before, before this accidental feeling had forced him to see that Buck wasn't okay.

It's not like Buck had come to him and confided in him that Buck wasn't doing okay though. His friend never had. And Eddie's never had a good hold on the lid to his emotions when he doesn't understand his or someone else's.

And he doesn't, not whereas Buck's involved, he doesn't understand why Buck won't just come to him. Eddie truly does not understand, even for a second, why, in Buck's mind, Buck is allowed to lay down everything, to do everything it takes to make everyone else happy. Yet won't allow the same to be done for him. He knows the miracle that presents itself as Evan Buckley would do anything for him, for Christopher, or any of the 118; Buck had proved that all countless of times.

But Buck won't accept help, won't let him in.

And that dismissal, that notion that after years of knowing one another — Buck is still so unwilling to let him be there for the blonde at a time like this, that Buck's defenses are still high, that hurts. That hurts more than any bullet that could possibly penetrate the layers of his skin. Everything about Buck stirs something up inside of him lately. He can't help that he is concerned.

Above all, Eddie Diaz is additionally outraged as well.

Actually, no, that isn't quite right. While those two emotions interchangeably follow suit with all that he's experiencing, with what he's feeling — he's also well aware that it can't be simplified into two basic sensations. What he's feeling is so upped in complexity, and so acutely elaborate, that Eddie can't even claim to comprehend all that it is he's feeling.

Even so, it is transparent that this can't be watered down into that; being concerned doesn't even begin to describe the multitude of the emotions he feels. That he'd been feeling ever since Karen had broken the news to him of Bobby's passing, he's been perturbed since he got the phone call, really. More than a week back, Karen had called him first to break the news to him of Bobby's passing. And that'd been gruesome enough to hear.

Buck's call that came some time afterwards had been much worse. Because Eddie can get over a lot but he'll never, never, get the sound of Buck's voice choking on the words out of his head, Buck's deep, guttural, gasping breaths that came as Buck delivered the news once again to Eddie, were barbaric to hear. It was like he could feel Buck's heart breaking, shattering, and all he could do was just listen because he was in a different fucking state.

And now he's been infuriated, because he knows Buck's not doing well. He knows why, everyone does. Everyone feels their captain's loss like no other.

But then, by the time Eddie had gotten here, Buck's emotions had seemed to shut off like a switch, in the blink of an eye, Buck was fine, Buck has been eerily.. all right. At least that's the font that Buck puts up for everyone, Eddie's not buying it. Doesn't believe that Buck's come to terms with Bobby's death just like that. Buck's simply shielding that away from everyone's view.

Even so, Buck's been functioning, maybe not at full capacity for Buck. The jokes aren't there, the constant smiles drop the second nobody's looking. But Buck's been functioning.

Buck's been cooking. No, not cooking. Stress baking's more so the term Eddie would use, sure — Buck's been doing a lot of that lately. That's what Buck does while at the blonde's lowest. And what his best friend makes is delicious, that's not the problem, it's not what Eddie had set out to fix. What was, was the fact that Buck's acting like he's fine.

But he knows, even Buck must be tired of the endless baking by now. Must be tired of feeling alone.

Because Buck has been supporting Maddie, Athena, and Chim, making time for Karen and Hen, he's helping May keep tabs on Athena so that May herself doesn't crumble. It must be lonely, must be tiring.

But Eddie thinks it's a problem. He doesn't care that Buck keeps saying that he is fine, that Buck claims to be stable because the blonde's had a therapy session here and there, because Eddie knows for a fact it isn't true. Buck hasn't been to therapy in a while now. And maybe Buck could persuade just about anybody else, but not Eddie. Because Eddie doesn't see anything behind those vacant eyes of Buck's.

There's nothing in them, no depth, no emotions or love. Buck looks at Eddie and for the first time ever, they're empty. Where there's usually warmth and affection and love, Eddie sees nothing. It's like all that warmth had been gouged out, Eddie would've preferred Buck not look at him at all rather than see that. He cannot handle it.

His heart constricts in a way that should probably be concerning every time Buck looks at him, but right now, none of that feels important.

He's not in Texas anymore; more often than not, Buck is next to him, and he thinks that he may finally know what the flutter in his heart means, but it doesn't fucking matter if the recipient has shut himself off to all human emotion.

He needs to figure out how to get a hold on the situation, how to solve this before he loses Buck even further.

He needs to handle it.

_____

Update, Eddie does not do much of that at all. Which is odd when, in the start, that's all he'd wanted to do.

Handle it, those're the selfsame words he'd used, handling it is what he'd said he'd do. And Eddie, at the least, wants to laugh at the idea now, could laugh or bitterly scoff at himself for thinking that was something within his skill-level, yeah, he'd handled it.

And he'd sure done a fine job at that, hadn't he?

No, he hadn't handled much of anything. If he were to face the truth, the rhetorical question wasn't a difficult one to answer. Though he almost wishes it were. Eddie doesn't get the privilege of denying the truth when it's so transparent. He's well informed that he hadn't handled the situation; If anything, he'd massively fucked up, he knows. In point of fact, just to be fully and completely concise here, he knows he's not in the right here. Not even a little, Eddie Diaz knows himself — better than he ever used to. More competently than he ever thought he would, maybe not as well as Buck does. But he's in close second now.

He's only in second because It was still a work in progress, one that he wasn't sure he'd ever revisit now that he'd discharged himself from therapy; he no longer goes to Frank. But his sessions had impacted him. It was enough, enough that he's long since come to terms with the prickly pieces of himself that were whetted like the pointed edge of a dagger. Eddie has never made himself an easy man to deal with; he has walls and has his barricades put into place to fend him from further harm. A self defense-mechanism is what it'd been called.

He has barricades, has probably more self defense mechanisms than he should have, and he's littered with flaws that he'd never been able to accept before.

Eddie knows he is not emotionally inept in the way he maybe should be. He's had plenty of setbacks, plenty of emotional wounds and trauma that has stunted that. Therapy may have been helping, but it's not a complete fix.

Him not being as emotionally inept as he thinks he should be doesn't make him ignorant. He's hurt Buck. He knows that, he isn't saying he'd handled anything the correct way. He knows that's not the case. Understandably, he'd be the first to say he has a knack for doing the opposite. Eddie makes a mess of things, Eddie unintentionally destroys those he cares for because he's incapable of not doing so. Because somewhere deep deep down, he knows he's incapable of allowing himself joy. Even when that joy is compartmentalized in those closest to him. Within Buck.

Eddie doesn't deserve joy, doesn't deserve juice, so he never lets himself have it for more than a second It's not new. He'd heavily screwed up his marriage with Shannon before her passing, by being emotionally absent. Emotionally checked out. Then he'd screwed up with the most precious thing Shannon had left him, he had screwed up his own god-damned bond with his child to the point where said child had fled to Eddie's parents. And now, now he's screwed up with Buck in immeasurable ways amid Bobby's passing.

It's unquestionable to Eddie that he'd handled it all wrong. So to assume he'd argue as such would be wrong.

Under no circumstances is that what he believes, which is why he's also not saying he doesn't know why he ends up alone that night wallowing in Buck's absence, he does. He understands a little too much, enough that the clutches of self-deprecation have not been lost on him tonight.

He knows why, knows that It'd been on him that Buck had driven away in the dark of the night. Leaving him in the wake of his own mindless words that he couldn't just take back now.

Eddie's not based on perfection, not even close, but if he tried to be more than he already does it'd eat him alive. He is brash, ill tempered, and Eddie can see that more than anyone. He has never been without fault. He'd always had a sharp tongue on him no matter how much he wished he hadn't, because it wasn't him that had to be on the receiving end of his words. It was always those he cared for; it was usually Buck, to be exact. And at the earlier times, when he'd been navigating through losing Shannon, it'd been Christopher. It's shameful to think about and Eddie is abashed thinking of all the times he'd been out of line with the things he'd said.

_____

If you're asking for more information in terms of the way that Eddie'd screwed up with Buck then the answer in itself is pretty easy. The way he'd messed up was simple: It formulated itself into an argument, an argument inside the walls of the house on 4995 S Bedford Street, their home. As far as Eddie was concerned, that's exactly what it was — their home. Just the three of theirs, him, Christopher, and Buck.

As it was, it had always been his and Christopher's home just as much as it was Buck's. They'd built the memories, done the work to make it feel lively and worth coming back to. And they'd done that, all three of them had. It's why Eddie never had any problems in always telling Buck, 'what's Mi casa es su casa'.

Because it was, this was Buck's home.

One he may have just compromised with a particularly nasty argument, potentially the worst one they'd had in all of their time of knowing one another. An argument that, now in hindsight, Eddie knows he'd mostly been responsible for having created.

And he can't stand himself for it. For handling things in such a way. The last thing he'd intended to do in his life was to harm Buck and his dynamic to the feasible point of no return. God, no, that's — that's never what he'd wanted.

Yet objectives don't really matter now do they? Not if Eddie knows it's what he's done.

Notwithstanding, It hadn't been what he'd been trying to do; that's for certain, he hadn't been trying to chase Buck away. He'd been trying to get Buck to open up to him. To know that he was here, to know that Bobby's passing wasn't something that meant Buck was alone now.

He doesn't know how he'd done this, how he'd screwed up so much that he'd gone from wanting to help his best friend to causing an argument, but he'd done it.

But, maybe that's the thing, maybe it's not his place to do anything. Not his place to call Buck out on it, not when he'd been the one who'd left in the first place. When he had scrutinized Buck, all of Buck's broken, sharp, jagged pieces, and had left anyway, fucking all the way off by leaving to Texas.

Maybe this was his retribution, maybe his poetic justice was having to see his best friend crumbling before him and being helpless in stopping it. Not just helpless but being casted to the sidelines as it happens. And that's what's happened to an absolute tee. Ever since the funeral, everything's been different. Everything he'd known before is different now. His home is still the same as it'd once been, Buck had made sure of that. But it also couldn't be any different. He's been reunited with Buck but it's not the same Buck he'd left in LA before Bobby's passing.

Buck's a lot different than what he remembers but then again, so is Eddie.

Eddie's back now, but he's also not.

Admittedly, Eddie isn't sure of his place since being back, can't help but feel like a guest being here. And being in what used to be his home, the funny thing is, It wasn't the house that has him feeling this way. It was Buck. Buck, who wouldn't give Eddie an inch when it came to letting him know how he was actually feeling. Buck, who, instead of being Buck, was pushing everyone, including him, away.

And Eddie just hadn't been able to stomach that.

____

As Eddie had said beforehand, the argument between him and Buck hadn't been meant to happen at all.

The possibility of having a dispute with Buck had been too high and he hadn't wanted that, hadn't wanted to say something unforgivable, something he couldn't take back — Eddie hadn't wanted to push about the subject of Buck's poor coping. But he knew if given the chance, if met face to face with Buck, that he would.

Which would only bring an argument, It's exactly what Eddie had been hoping of postponing or putting off altogether. Not wanting to argue with his best friend is ultimately the reason why he'd stayed away, why he'd been out of the house in the first place, in a last ditch-attempt at clearing his head.

But when he thinks about it, he thinks it was always going to happen. Perhaps it could've been put off to happen at a later time and maybe Eddie could've done better at doing less to pick it in the first place.

But, even so, Eddie's pretty sure it would've happened under any circumstances. Lately, the grief between them had been high, tempers aflare, the distance that'd been between them since Eddie had come back to LA had reached a new time high. Eddie had been doing his best at keeping it all at bay.

Keeping things at bay had begun to seem more and more like an excuse though, the more Eddie thought about it — he might be doing more harm than good. Might be putting more distance in between them than what they'd even started out with.

Consecutively, Eddie thinks that had been the thought that had made him decide to come back to the house, back to Buck.

When Eddie came traipsing through the front door, he could tell something was immediately off. Call it a sixth sense, but Eddie just knows. For one, he didn't hear the typical sounds of the man nor did he take in the smell of Buck's usual cooking.

Which just further proposes the question, if not baking or occupying the house with noise: then where was Buck?

It wasn't a question Eddie knew the answer to seeing as he didn't know, but he was going to make it his mission to find out.

''Buck?'' Eddie queries, keeping his voice moderately loud as he calls out the other's name inquisitively.

From them, there's a pivotal moment, just one, where he pauses so as to give his friend time to reply, a pivotal moment where, in hindsight Eddie could and probably should've turned back. Where he could've pulled himself together before he'd ever once stepped foot into the house like a man asking for trouble.

However, on the other hand, that's woefully not something that transpires. In the moment, Eddie'd never been so analytical or level-headed before going in, and Buck doesn't end up responding to him at all, actually, is not something Buck does. And Eddie should know, should know to trust himself by now. Should know that with all that's on his mind and Buck occupying it so frequently, so heavily, that nothing good is to come from seeing the other.

Surprisingly, despite calling the name of his best-friend-turned-roommate, there was no given response, regardless of which Eddie doesn't hold out for one. Instead, he chooses not to think much on it, simply continuing on speaking, knowing it'll be heard somewhere in the house.

How he knows that is that Buck's Jeep is still here. So Eddie's pretty sure Buck's gotta' be here somewhere; he was going to assume the other was here.

Swaggering forward, Eddie allows himself to get further than the front door. Walking through the foyer and into the kitchen, he doesn't have to stand there for long before his vision hones in on something. The first thing he sees in that kitchen is that there's a bag, one he knows he hadn't bought. A kraft paper bag sitting offensively upon the kitchen table. Filled to the brim with groceries.

Eddie tries to work out why it pisses him off so much seeing it, It's presumptive that maybe the object alone isn't offensive. And shouldn't be seen as it, but it sure feels objectionable when he'd made it clear that he'd been the one supposed to get the groceries this time. Eddie's eyes dart upwards from the object on the table, looking for the culprit of this all. Who he soon finds to not be facing him, all he sees is his roommates back, the ocher colored anorak the other wears clashes against the muted colorless setting, bright against the linoleum of the counters, cereal box in hand.

It's Buck. It's Buck standing there in what anyone could only view as domestically. It's Buck's hand that's clasped upon a newly bought cereal box, seemingly oblivious to him. It made sense for it to be Buck because it's always Buckley doing something for others, even if not asked to. And Eddie shouldn't be angry, because this was so damn Buck, Buck who was kind. Buck, who acted like disappointing or offending anyone, was a cardinal sin in itself.

But he is, he's angry, feels like an irascible old man — the kind of man who's like his father. And he wishes he wasn't mad, wishes that he didn't feel this way.

But, of course, Buck hadn't listened to him; of course, Buck had gotten the groceries anyway.

He tells himself that's not what this is going to be about, though, tells himself that there's bigger fish to fry — that he's not really upset about this, but that he's upset at Buck not coming to him, not grieving. It's not the groceries that have anger bubbling beneath the surface of his skin; it's a multitude of things that've stocked up ever since Bobby's death.

''Oh, there you are. Hey,'' Eddie welcomes artificially, ignoring the way Buck startles. ''Nice to see you, glad I don't have to continue talking at the walls anymore,''

''Eddie?'' Buck asks, doing no more than dubiously citing his name, preparatory to the younger easing out a, ''Hi?''

Oppressively chewing at his bottom lip, Eddie mentally goes over what's started of their encounter, though it's not close to being over, they've already breached a rough start. Another question then, because just like Eddie, Buck doesn't seem to know where they stand either. That must be the riddle of the night for them, it's just a matter of who's going to call them out on it.

With the way things are going Eddie has a feeling it'll be him.

That's fine.

''Yes, I'm right here in front of you. Who else did you think I could be?'' Eddie solicits, all too knowing of It being a smart assed thing to say, discernibly, but Eddie's always been a smart aleck.

He can't help wanting to walk and step closer to Buck.

Wanting to be so close to the other man that he'd be able to feel the man's existence through the warmth of Buck's skin — the proof of life from the heat of the blood pumping through Buck's body, through the steady tick of the man's pulse.

He craves it all, might even need it to be whole again. Because ever since the lightning strike it's been ingrained deeply in his mind just how suddenly living in a world without Buck could go from a nightmare to a reality. Losing Bobby had only made that outcome feel that much more real.

So as much as he has his heart set on the physical contact between them, as much as he craves Buck's presence at all times, it's worse than an addiction, but he can't have it.

It doesn't stop him as he proceeds onwards and stands alongside the kitchen table instead.

He isn't sure if it's the movement or Eddie's earlier remark, but one of the two has Buck blinking slowly. Eddie's going to go with saying it's the latter and that Buck no doubt is only just now taking into account how sarcastic it'd been. The younger's expression is indefinitely surprised before the younger man forces it into a lax one. Either the motion must take too much effort or it's not maintable, because Buck turns away from him. The sight of Buck's back meets his vision.

''Nobody. Though, I didn't know you were coming back tonight?'' Buck vocally nudges, no doubt trying to impel him into revealing where he'd been. He should tell Buck, Eddie knows the guy worries for him. But Eddie worries too and Buck hasn't budged at all whenever Eddie's concern comes into question. ''Kinda' what I was getting at actually, when you left the way you did, man, I wasn't sure where you'd even gone. You never told me,''

Posture tight and shoulders growing to be in an even tighter position, Eddie simply shrugs.

''Didn't go much of anywhere, really, if you've got to know,''

''Sure, sure,'' Buck says, indolently waving a hand in Eddie's direction. Vision settled somewhere that's not Eddie. ''Cause knowing where you are doesn't fit into the best friend prerogative, I forgot,''

Buck's meeting his snappish comments with a series of Buck's own now it seems. He grinds his teeth together, hoping it'll help ward his anger until he can redirect it away from Buck. The mash of enamel against enamel isn't enough to stave his anger, knowing that Buck's attention isn't there, it's not really on him.

He needs it to be.

Chasing after that attention, Eddie abandons his perch near the table, smoothly brushing his way up right behind Buck in an tenuous excuse of getting a coffee mug. It's purposeful, doesn't leave much space in between them, doesn't leave Buck space to slip away. Being this close to Buck is comforting, however it's short-lived. The second Eddie's close by, Buck is not. Hastening to head over to Eddie's previous spot to dig more groceries out. A twinge of bitterness makes itself prominent in his gut at the action, and Eddie squeezes at the mug's handle.

Because..

Because here they go again, this game of cat and mouse. The constant scampering away from one another too scared to say what needs to be said, too okay with walking on eggshells. Buck's always so close, within arm's length, yet so far away. He doesn't stop his silent leering, scrutinizing the blonde furthermore as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Once done, Eddie brings the steaming liquid to linger before his lips, turning and staring at Buck with one hand propped on the countertop. Holding the majority of his weight, a display of feigned nonchalance through the rapid pumping of blood rushing through his veins in adrenaline. Eddie chases the adrenaline, the feeling of his anger, and the endorphins he feels.

''Seen you called a few times,'' Eddie indicated, like it's not an obvious fact that both of them know.

Yeah, they both knew that Buck had. Not even that long ago either — he'd come home soon after.

''Yeah, that'd be because I did,'' Laconically, Buck expressed. ''Didn't know you'd noticed with how you'd just let the calls sit there. Not like you moved a finger to answer any of them,''

''Consider this as me making an initiative and answering them now, in person. Seemed to me that it was a good enough of a reason for me to come back,'' Eddie defended. ''So, you always hang around in the darkness while I'm not here? The lights are about as dimmed as they can get, Buck,''

''It's the way I like them,''

''Ah, so it's decisively not a matter of you brooding then?''

''Wasn't brooding at all,''

''Right, now it clicks,'' Eddie muttered austerely. ''Well, if you aren't brooding and have a legit reason for hanging out in the dark, then would you want to expound on why you sounded so surprised seeing me?''

''You think I'm mind blown that it's you that'd walked in, don't you?'' Buck alleged.

''Eh, you'd be wrong, I'm not. And I wouldn't say it's anything like that,'' The blonde invalidates. ''It's not like how it was when we lived apart, Eddie. We're kind of sharing a home at the moment, with us being bunkies and all,''

''I know. Believe me when I say that's something I've noticed,''

''Right, I didn't know you were so hyperaware of me being here,''

''I'm not,''

''Yet you commented on it. Are you so aware of me being around because it's a bad thing?''

Why did that have to be the first conclusion Buck jumped to? As though Eddie had ever done anything other than enjoy, live for, his companion's company.

''Course' not,'' Eddie nullified. ''I don't know how many times I have to tell you that you're not some kind of imposition, before you get it through your head, Buck, you're good to have around. Your company's as nice as it's always been,'' He glossed. ''I enjoy having you around,''

Perfunctory, Buck nods, momentarily consoled. ''Yeah, you know I enjoy yours too,'' Buck supplemented, by all appearances, much more serious-minded than usual. ''Always have,''

There was something there, something more that Buck wanted to say but wasn't.

''But?'' Eddie compelled.

''But this wasn't about feeling like an imposition, not this time,'' Buck said, rounding everything out. ''I'm not surprised in you actually wanting me here. And I'd like to say that I'm not surprised that you're here now, but I am. It's more of the fact that you'd just up and left,'' The blonde supplied. ''I just didn't realize you'd already be back, you didn't really give an answer to my message when I'd asked,''

''So, convenient as it is, that's actually part of the reason I'm back, I saw you'd tried to get a hold of me,'' Eddie ministered the small detail. ''And, well, here's the deal, listen, I came back because not to back you into a corner or anything, but it might be a good time for us to —''

What had he been thinking of saying? Eddie thinks he knows, but his throat doesn't get the memo; it won't work the rest of the words through his esophagus. To what? It'd be a good time for them to do what?

For them to talk is what Eddie had wanted. But what good did he think talking would do when Buck had done nothing but avoid doing so as though it were the bubonic plague?

''There's nothing to talk about,'' Buck forbade.

''Nothing? There's nothing at all?''

''No! Not anything that I can think of,''

Noticeably, Buck wasn't getting what he wanted to talk about. Buck's still not getting what he's driving at then, huh. Okay, he's going to have to go about this in a way that makes it as uncomplicated as possible. Eddie's face fixes with a rictus expression, that's fine. He can be upfront, can be blunt.

''Not Bobby?''

Told you he could do it. Bluntness is child's play to Eddie after all. Expression stilling in time at their captain's name, Buck's breath hitching with hearing it, Buck stills for half a second. Though the younger man's mind doesn't seem to. The blonde's mind is plainly unwilling to cruise past what Eddie had just dropped on the man.

''No,'' Buck uttered holographically. The younger's voice was wavering while Buck shut the idea of the conversation topic down, sounding unmoored. ''Not — not Bobby,''

''Look, I don't want to talk about it any more than you probably want to. But you and I? Right now, we're struggling,''

''And what about it, Eddie?''

''It needs to be talked about, whatever you or I need to say should just be said at this point. Because harboring everything we're thinking to ourselves and avoiding one another isn't working,'' Eddie starts, as firmly, and stubbornly as ever.

''It's working just fine for me,''

''Is it? I couldn't tell, I haven't seen you smile since before it'd happened. This is the first time you've said his name since it'd happened. And Buck..''

Eddie doesn't get any further in speaking than that. But what he has said is recompensed with Buck sighing, looking audibly annoyed for some reason. It's not for show, not the halfhearted kind of annoyance Buck displays when someone from the 118 teases the blonde, no, it's the real kind of annoyance. Eddie knows the difference, and he realizes, suddenly, with a chill, that he doesn't know how to navigate his way around this situation.

Because Eddie doesn't get it, truthfully, calling one another out because it's what needs to be done — is what they do, what they've always done. He doesn't understand why it's different this time — but he softens, changes tactics, anyway.

Because if what he's saying is going to be heard, he doesn't want it to be out of annoyance unless it has to be. He's not trying to irk or hurt Buck, not ever.

Buck doesn't get that.

''Don't finish saying that,'' Buck interrupts, effectively putting what Eddie was going to say on the back burner. ''As much as I love talking to you and all, Eddie, this isn't one of those times,''

He wonders if Buck knows that. If Buck knows that his concern is real, that it's not here to irk the tawny blonde.

''Why can't it be?'' Eddie procures. ''Why can't it be, Buck? This is what I'm talking about, you're even doing it right now, the lengths you go through on actively shutting me out. On avoiding me,''

''It can't be because I don't want to talk to you like this,'' Buck daunts. ''Because frankly, I don't think it's fair of you to ambush me into talking about this right now. You seem to think otherwise though,''

''That's unequivocally true, It's not fair of me,''

Clearly, Buck wasn't expecting that. Not having the words on the tip of the blonde's tongue to respond. It at the least gives Eddie time to come up with more of his own.

''It's not,'' Eddie iterates again, letting Buck hear him once more. ''So let me straighten this out by telling you that's not what I'm trying to do. But if we're talking about it, you should ask yourself why you feel like someone has to ambush you for you to want to open up about your feelings. I know it might be too soon for me to ask you to confide in me fully. So I'd get it if that's not something you were able to do. But that's not what I'm asking you to do, I don't need you to open up about everything, I'm not telling you to just open up and air out all your grievances at once, 'cause I know you won't do that, but you have to get it out at some point," Eddie explains, and he thinks Buck understands, but Buck can't understand past a certain extent. Doesn't want to. "Take it from someone who knows, bottling it up until it explodes isn't the right way to go about it,"

''Alright, alright, what the fuck is this, Eddie? You keep spilling ounces of unsolicited advice that I don't need, nor want,'' Buck retorts. ''I'm not going to be on cloud nine anytime soon, but otherwise I am fine. I'm just left wondering why you're being so pushy about this?''

''There's an easy answer to this, Buck. Ever since I've gotten back two things've stayed the same,'' Eddie hurls back as his reply. ''How much I've wanted to be there for you, as well as how much you're refusing to let me, or anyone do that! And I don't understand why you wouldn't let me — why you won't just talk to me,''

As the desperation bleeds into his voice, he knows his expression is doing something on its own, that his visage for once, isn't something he can control. Eddie's usually good at this, good at displaying what he wants to show on his face and keeping the emotions he wants to keep tucked away off of it. There's been slip ups with people before, moments of pettiness, with Taylor Kelly, Abby Clark or the Buckley's. But it's not like it ever goes beyond that, not like Eddie's ever felt so broken over something that he's let vulnerability flicker on his face. This is Buck he's talking with though, he reminds himself, then reminds himself even more when he sees Buck watching him with rapt attention, examining his expression. And so, even though the vulnerability he feels may seem like it's being observed under a microscope right now, he knows there's nothing to stress over when he's in Buck's company.

Maybe a bit foolishly Eddie thinks that Buck's going to crack at it. That the shell around everything Buck's been safeguarding and holding out from saying is going to finally break, he waits for it.

''Eddie?''

It's Buck's voice alone that has Eddie knowing Buck's not going to give in. He's unable to quash the fact that he's growing tetchy.

''What, Buck! What?''

It's not vulnerability on Eddie's face anymore, that much he knows. There's an untamed look to Eddie's eyes, a rugged edge to his face. An impotent sound to his voice, he knows, that's why he's not expecting it when Buck hears that and still deflects.

''Think you could give me a hand with putting away the groceries?''

Buck's truly that ready to shut down any chance of a conversation? That savage look on his face doubles, that's what Buck had to ask about? Was the groceries? He'd all but forgotten of them; he'd been too immersed in getting Buck's defenses down. Yet, all of that didn't matter when all of this time Buck had been focused on groceries.

''Oh, so not only are you going to go off on a tangent now, but of course you went and got them as well,'' He mutters.

''Got what?''

''The groceries, Buck, the god-damned groceries!'' Eddie exclaimed, peevishly.

The blonde put something else from the grocery sack away; there was that undercurrent of anger again in Eddie's voice, and Buck was trying hard not to get swept up in it.

''You're angry I went out and got groceries for us? Make it make sense, would you, Eddie, because just a second ago this was about us not doing more to communicate during all of this,''

''Not angry,''

''Uh huh, I bet you aren't. I can see the anger just melting away, oh, let me guess? Now it's sliding off your face,''

''I'm not angry,'' Brusquely Eddie repeats. ''Doesn't mean I have to like that you went out and got them when I said I was going to go out and do the shopping,''

''Now, hold on. Eddie,''

''Holding,'' Eddie snarked uncouthly. ''Actually no, you know what, why don't you put them down?'' He urges, unsurprised, when Buck doesn't let go of the groceries, if anything, it only encourages Buck to shuffle through the kraft paper bag of groceries more. ''We just went over this, I've made it clear I want for us to talk. And we're not doing a whole lot of that,''

''You said it yourself, we aren't. So what are we doing?''

''Gradually going backwards in this conversation is what we're doing,''

''And whose fault is that?''

''Not mine. I'm the one trying to talk. Not you,'' Eddie throws back. ''Not going to lie though, I don't like that you went out of your way and grabbed the groceries at all, but they can wait to be put away, I'll even help later,'' He offers. ''We need to talk, talk about a few things actually. And everything else? That can all be done after. I —''

Stiffening, Eddie sees as Buck stops shuffling through the kraft paper bag at his statement, decisively pulling out a package of paper towels from inside the bag as an afterthought. Buck takes time to just look at him for half a second. And Eddie down a bit of the scorching hot liquid in his coffee mug to pretend Buck's gaze isn't getting to him. It's not long before Buck merely shrugs at him, the package still in Buck's hands even as those very hands are tossed upwards into movement as Buck speaks.

''Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they kind of can't, man. Not all of them,'' Buck says in response. ''To be fair, some of them would probably be fine being out for a bit, not all of them would be though. There's cold items too that need refrigerated,''

''Perishable or nonperishable items don't change the fact that I need to talk to you, Buck, I've told you that from the get-go,'' Eddie nudges. ''Whatever needs refrigerated will be fine for now, the items aren't going to go bad because we talked,''

''And that talk you want to have needs to happen now? Like now? As in right at this second?''

''Yes, it does,"

''Mhm, okay. If you're insisting —''

''Which I am. I can't even tell you how vehemently I'm insisting on this,''

''Then fine,'' Buck nods, only once. ''We'll talk. I got your point now, no need to be such a stickler, like I said I'm fine with talking, so long as you aren't pushing at topics I don't want to talk about,'' Buck palters. ''So it's your choice, Eds on whether we talk or not,''

''What's the catch?''

''Nothing that steep, I just hope you know though that If the milk spoils or anything, you're taking the blame. Not me,''

''If the milk spoils, we can blame it on me. You happy?''

Buck grins, finally, fucking finally abandoning the task of putting away groceries.

''Very. That's all I needed from you, call it assurance,''

''Well, there,'' Eddie said, expectorating the words like they were phlegm coating his throat. ''You've got your assurance, now what do I get?''

''You'd said you wanted to talk,'' Buck gives back, shrugging. ''We'll talk,''

''I never did ask why you got all of this, did I?'' Eddie started, a firm edge to his voice that has a perimeter of anger around it. That about sent Buck spiraling.

''This is what you wanted to talk about?''

Eddie's eyes didn't flicker in amusement the way Buck's did.

''I do want to talk. Still do, I'm just starting out with this,''

''It takes one glance to know that they're groceries? That we needed, pretty badly. I mean the place was beginning to look like we were in the middle of a famine,'' It's heard as Buck deliverance of the bon mot falls short. ''Not a good look, Eds,''

''No,'' Eddie shoots back. ''Evidently not,''

Hyperbolically, Buck sighs. ''Look, you seem to be in a mood, I might just be in one myself. I wasn't going to say anything or call you out on it until you came to me, but yeah, like I said — you seem a little miffed,'' Buck sycophantically started.

''Not sure what that's about, If I forgot something or didn't get something you'd asked for then, I'm sorry, but..''

''You didn't. That'd be so trivial to be mad over,'' Eddie interrupts, muscling his way into what Buck had been saying.

''Yet you are,''

''I'm not,'' Eddie bit out and Buck's eyes sharpened at the edge in Eddie's voice. Attuned to him and him only.

''So you are angry. Why, oh, is it because I wouldn't spill my guts about everything?'' Buck notices. ''Or is it something else? Do you care to inform me on why you look like you're about to go ballistic? Eddie, are you going to leave me hanging,''

''It's..yes, it's that,'' Eddie cedes. ''It's also, Buck, it's that we never agreed on you getting all of this yourself, you know the routine,''

''I do, even so, I'm not sure why it's such a major thing to you, routine or not it's not anything to stress yourself out about,''

''Oh, I don't know, Buck. It's within the realm of possibility that it's because you didn't have to go and get them but went out and did so anyway, it was my turn to,''

''And that matters why?''

''Really? Why ask questions you already know the answer to,''

''I'm not asking you to spell anything out for me. I'm trying to get a clearer picture here, that's all,'' Buck explains. ''I just don't get it, we'll both eat the things I pick out, we always do no matter who made the shopping trip. It's not like it's any difference who picks them out,''

''I think it does,''

''Are you saying that because you're in all actuality being serious? Or are you saying it just so you can have an issue with another think I've said?'' Buck probes. ''At this point I think our wires are crossed, cause' I don't get what you mean,'' Buck shelves what the blonde had been wanting to say for just a second. Then, ''You aren't trying to explain anything either, you're just expecting me to know what this is all about. So you aren't giving me much leeway here,''

''I'm not going out of my way to create problems between us, the way you posed your question made it seem like that's what you were asking,''

''Then give me some clarification on what the problem is here, that's all I want,''

''You didn't give it a second thought that you're the one that got the groceries. You and I usually divide the cost of groceries, that's how our agreement has always been. And you paid last time,'' Eddie fills in. ''That's why it matters that you took my turn on getting them,''

''Of all the things to be mad about..—'' Buck starts.

''What? So now it's on me for being angry? You can't pin this all on me like you weren't the one who was consistently asking because you wanted to know,''

''Yes, Eddie, I did. Mistakenly I guess I thought you picking a fight would be about more than an agreement,'' Buck's eyes oscillated away from him.

''And from what you're saying it sounds like you're peeved at me because I got the groceries more than I was supposed to? So what, one time isn't going to ruin us,''

''Exactly! I am pissed off by that. We came up with something that worked for the both of us, so why would we start changing it now? Which is what I'm trying to tell you,''

''Thing is, I don't need to be told anything, you aren't gentle parenting me, Eds. I don't need reminded of things, I'm grown enough to remember them myself,''

''Then what happened? Did you forget it was my turn to go and get them? I'd let you know the other day I'd go out and get them,''

''No, I didn't forget,''

''Great, so it didn't slip your mind. You just didn't care what I said?''

''Oh my god, that's not it either! Listen, Eddie, no offense but you're being weirdly defensive about this, man. And I don't get why,'' There was anger in Buck's voice, but it mellowed out as the skin between Buck's glabella creased in confusion. ''It's starting to freak me out,''

''I'm not getting defensive, I'm being a realist. You didn't have to do this — didn't have to do any of it,''

''Hate to break it to you, If this is you being a realist, you should stop. Don't be one anymore,'' Buck speaks to him without gusto, cut-throat and dry. ''I thought it'd be a nice thing to do, so you had less to come home too. Bad move on my part apparently because it didn't seem to have worked much,''

''Guess it didn't,''

''Okay, noted. I gave it a shot and now I know not too,'' Buck gives as a counter response. ''And fuck, man, you didn't have to be obnoxious about it,''

''I wasn't being,''

''That's cool. You might not think you were being unpleasant, but you were, Eddie. I know I'm here and just kinda' in your line of sight, but I'm not here just to be your emotional punching bag,''

''Buck,''

''I'm not a complete pushover. If I'd wanted an emotional lashing or to be used as a speedbag then I would've never left my parents,'' Buck says as a repartee. ''So I'm not going to pretend to understand why you came at this conversation in this way. But I'll tell you that despite what you for some unknown reason believe, I know perfectly well just how the agreement works, I'd say I'm well versed with it,''

Eddie's lips settle into a thin line, he's not sure what's unsettled him so deeply about that. Could be how Buck says it so flippantly, like being mistreated by those who brought you into this world is a joke that one can just brush off. And to him, to Buck maybe the fucked up thing is that it was. They never typically sat and talked about it — about the letdown their childhoods had been. Because there'd never been any need too, it all spoke for itself.

The cards they'd been dealt as far as families went showed in the way Eddie was unable to even do the smallest thing for himself in fear of not being deserving enough of it. It's why he'd quit ballroom dancing despite enjoying it.

It showed in the pressure he'd yet to shake off of always having had to be the 'man of the house' because that's the role his father had given him at an early age. In his commitment issues, it showed in him doing his best in shaking a generational cycle of having toxic masculinity shoved down his throat by his father. He never wanted to pass that down to Christopher.

And in Buck? Well, Buck's issues were displayed to him like glass after being around the other for so many years, the abandonment Buck so readily expected, like Buck was easy to leave. Always behaving as though the younger had outstayed his own welcome in this life, as if his purpose was a debacle.

The self-sacrificial tendencies Buck always showed on the job were one thing, but it also showed outside of that. In the way that Buck was mindless with his own body. Equivocating hookups and relationships were Buck have more than the man ever received to being written off as love.

''You'd think you would be,''

''Are you saying I'm not?''

''You tell me,''

''Fuck off Eddie,'' Buck vituperates.

''You first, Buckley,'' Eddie vilipends. ''This all escalated over groceries, fucking groceries, do you realize how stupid that sounds? Moreover, I never took you to be a pushover but don't, even for a second compare me to your fucking parents Buck, of all people your going to compare me to them?''

''There was no comparison made between you and them Eddie, I didn't have to make that,''

''It's what you thought,''

''I don't think you're like them. Your problem is that you didn't like what I said,''

''What part do you think I didn't like? Was it when you told me that if you'd wanted to be used as someone's emotional punching bag then you'd go back to them? Because, yeah, Buck. That did upset me, I wonder why. It's almost like that's not what you are to me. You've never been that to me,''

''Oh..''

''You shouldn't have said that, when I — when you know I'm nothing like them,'' Eddie's vocal cords may as well have been slashed through with how tortured he sounds. ''This wasn't even what this started out as. I'm not going to discuss your parents with you any longer. I don't know how you got this so off track from what we'd actually been arguing about. Although, you're so 'well versed' now with the way our agreement works, aren't you? Well, now that you've brought it up yourself, if you're suddenly so capable now and deem yourself so high-esteemed then explain this,'' Eddie's hands fly up, gesturing at the leftover groceries that were still visible. ''All of this,'' Eddie sardonically drawled. ''Explain why it was so hard to follow one thing. These aren't just my rules, we legitimately came to a consensus on this before! You know it's there so neither of us takes on more than the other, it's supposed to be evenly split between us,''

''Okay, fine. I haven't the faintest idea why this is such an issue for you. But if you want to make it into one, we can,'' Buck propounds. ''Since you've decided on asking me for my perspective, you know what I'd say? I'd say It looks a lot like sacks full of groceries, it's food that I just saved you the trouble of going out and getting. Then again, I know you won't see it this way. And that this all could just be my critical thinking skills talking, something we don't all appear to have,''

''Yeah, smart ass, I knew what they were, I inferred that much as soon as I'd walked in and seen them sitting there,''

''Great,'' Buck bit back at a much lower volume than Eddie. ''That's good for you, now you can get off my back about it all,''

''No, actually, I can't. Considering we aren't done here, I'm still talking to you,''

''Correction, you're the one that isn't done here, not me,'' Buck rectifies. ''You can go and scorn me about this all, a different time. Because as far as you and I apply to this conversation, I think we're done,''

''We aren't,'' Eddie negates back. ''Don't bother playing coy with me, not right now. I get that you thought you were doing something good, I know you had good intentions, Buck,'' And he does. ''That being said, I also think you forget you're being patronizing towards me without a reason. And you know this all wasn't what I was asking, I was asking how they got here,''

''Somebody snuck into here while I wasn't looking and out of the kindness of their heart generously decided to get us a whole haul of groceries,''

''That's not what happened,''

''Yeah, maybe it wasn't. But there's probable cause to believe that it could've!''

''There isn't, there really isn't. Anyway, our agreement,'' Eddie reminds. ''If you're apparently aware of how it works then why is it that you didn't oblige by it? It's put in place for a reason, you are the only other person that lives here. I don't know if you think you're being funny, or what you're aiming at but I'm not amused by it. And I'm pretty blatantly sure that nobody else snuck into our house and out of the kindness of their heart generously decided to get us a whole haul of groceries,''

''I'm a subtenant, so I'm well aware that I live here too,'' Buck verbally checks him. ''And yeah, you're right. I got the groceries. It's not a big deal that I picked them up. It was more convenient for me to get it over with, I was out as it was. If anything I'd figured you'd be glad I saved you the trip to the store, I don't understand why you're so pissed at me for it,'' Buck sighed. ''Look, Eddie, I know how you are with your finances. So if that's what this was all about you should know by now you don't like owe me anything if that's what this is all about, I was just trying to be nice,''

''My financial situation? Is fine. That isn't what this is about either,''

''Then what is this all for, if you'd stop being so sanctimonious and just tell me then we'd actually get somewhere,'' Eddie can tell Buck's voice wants to be raised, but it doesn't. Buck isn't one for that, isn't one to yell. ''I'm not asking you to spell anything out for me. I'm trying to get a clearer picture here, that's all, I just don't get it, we'll both eat the things I pick out, we always do no matter who made the shopping trip. It's not like it's any difference who picks them out,''

''You want to know what I'm tired of? Maybe I'm just tired of having you distort what should be simple conversations, and you just — you make them into arguments, Buck!'' Eddie finds himself blaming. ''You always do,''

''I'm the one doing that? No, I seem to recall you being the one to do that,'' Immediately, Eddie's mouth opens. ''Don't,'' Buck starts. Then Eddie's mouth shuts. ''And what, are you telling me that.. that I'm some kind of problem for you? That I'm so hindering that I don't even know how to communicate?''

''Good fuckin' grief, I never mentioned anything about your communication, I'm not the greatest at it myself so saying anything would make me a hypocrite. Just,'' Eddie's words trip over themselves. ''Just knock it off, okay, Buck? I'm tired of this, I'm tired of your shit. And I don't want to hear your bullshit anymore right now,''

''Tired of mine? Maybe I'm tired of yours, of how you're so quick to presume. So quick to blame everyone else for why you're angry and you claim that everyone's bullshiting you,'' Buck yawped. ''But who's bullshitting you right now, tell me. Because things're fine, or they would be if you'd just let them be!''

Eddie's tired of this. Tired of going in circles, tired of his words not obeying him or coming out the way he wants them to. And he's beyond tired of Buck not being truthful.

''Just cut it out! Stop claiming that it's fine, that you're fine,''

''Why?''

''Because judging by how you're being right now, it doesn't sound like it is,''

''You're right, Eds, it isn't fine,''

''The truth finally surfaces, only it shouldn't have taken this long to get it out of you!'' Eddie clamors. ''So you admit it, things aren't fine, does that mean you got something you wanna' say to me, Buck?''

''Nope,''

''I think you do. And just a little word of advice for you — next time if you're going to be passive-aggressive to somebody, Buckley, then you might as well say what you mean,''

''I might as well, right?''

''There's no better alternative,''

''So, here it is, Eddie, I heard you finally got the call from El Paso Fire,'' Buck confesses to him. ''Congratulations, by the way,''

Oh, and that — that checks out. That'd make sense why Buck's been so against coming to him, in confiding in him. Buck knows. Knows about his job offer.

With nothing better to say, Eddie just offers up a, ''Thank you,''

''It's just kind of funny finding out this way considering I don't remember hearing you tell me any of this yourself,'' Buck discloses. ''We used to always tackle the big decisions together, not alone,''

''So that explains it. That's what this is all about, you've found out..''

''Yeah, that's what this was all about. As if I don't feel stupid enough you have to point it out,'' Buck laughs, but the noise is forced, it seems to hurt. ''Let's make a spectacle out of me, why don't we? Look at me, I finally found out. It shouldn't amaze me as much as it does that somehow I was the last to know,'' Buck said dryly. ''You didn't think you'd be able to keep it from me forever, did you? God only knows how long you've kept it from me already,''

''No, you know it's not like that,''

''Actually no, I don't know if you would've ever planned on telling me,''

''Let's not go there, Buck,''

''I think we should,'' Buck objects. ''And in case you hadn't gotten the memo, word travels around fast, Eddie, if you'd wanted to keep me from finding out, then you should've done a better job,''

''Who was it that told you anyway?''

''Let's see,'' Buck says, trying to recount how the chain of information has gotten to him. ''Eh, Hen told Chimney that she wanted to throw you a surprise barbecue, Chimney told Ravi. Then Ravi called me wanting to know if he should bring a gift,''

''You finding out the way you did wasn't right,'' Eddie empathizes. ''I made a mistake. I didn't intend for you to find out this way but now that you have, I can see that this looks bad,''

''No shit. Naturally, It's not looking great,''

''It isn't, I know that. But I was always going to tell you,''

''Yeah, I bet you were,'' Buck caustically says, cerulean blue eyes closing to stem the stinging feeling in them. ''Why wouldn't I believe you? Because after all, as my best friend I know how you were just itching to tell me,''

Eddie detects the fatigue in it, zeroes in on the way Buck's voice threatens to collapse under the amount of hurt in it.

''I would've,''

''Okay,'' Buck muttered.

''That's all you're going to say?''

''Actually, yeah, it is. I don't have anything else that seems worth saying,''

''What does that mean? You're just going to give me an okay, that's it? You've got to speak to me more than that, Buck, because you aren't giving me much to go off of,''

''It means okay, we'll go with that. There's no implicit meaning to it,''

''There might not be an implicit meaning but there is a problem, you don't believe me when I say I was wanting to tell you, Buck,''

''You were itching to tell me,'' Buck paraphrased. ''If that were true, and you would've then when? When was it going to be the right time for you? Were you just waiting for the perfect moment to drop that bombshell?"

''It was a lot to tell you at a time..''

A second passes, and Buck can't be brought to respond instantly.

''It was, which is why I deserved to know, understandably, it would've been on your own time and on your own terms, which I get. Really, I do. But I gave you that, Eddie. I waited this out after finding out just to see if you would've ever come to me and told me. And that time never came,''

''Buck,''

''So I guess the main question I'm left with is when do you think you would have told me?'' Buck spits it out with so much vitriol. Like the younger male's offended just at the mere idea of the question. Like, even asking and being forced to await an answer is causing Buck physical pain.''It wasn't anytime soon,''

Breathing in, Eddie knows it's a genuine question; it's not a question that's unreasonable for him to answer, but for whatever reason, he just can't.

He can't, Eddie can't answer it. And it makes him a coward, part of him hates himself for not even being able to give Buck that.

''I can't give you the answer you want. I'm not sure, I just know eventually I would have said something,''

''You can stick to that, Eddie, but don't expect me to be ignorant. There's no need to rationalize it when, in all actuality, you wouldn't have; you only claim you would've, there's a difference. That's only to make yourself feel better, you were just trying to assuage your guilt,'' Buck says so surely. ''Don't try and say you were doing anything other than that,''

''No, that's not what I was doing, you don't believe what I say, but I really wasn't trying to hurt you. I was really planning on it, on telling you. I was thinking of the right time, but I'm not a prestidigitator. I couldn't just flip a card and immediately conjure up the right time to tell you,''

''You didn't even try,''

"If you don't think I tried then you're purposefully being obtuse, Buckley,"

''You didn't try,''

''Sure, I didn't, you know me so well. Know everything about me, you know how I didn't spend time in the mirror every day rehearsing what to say to you, knowing no matter what I did it was still going to fucking break you,'' Eddie replied, trying to keep his voice neutral, although the slight hitch in his breath betrayed his composure. ''I did try. Don't ever tell me I didn't,''

Buck's gaze was torn from where Buck had intentionally been keeping it elsewhere, eyes flicking up to meet Eddie's. Only, there was nothing neutral about the way Buck was looking at him now. Buck's gaze lingered, barely restrained heat flickering beneath the uncertainty, which only made Eddie's mouth go dry.

Eddie's brows lifted, surprise flickering for only a beat before his mouth curved into something sharper.

''But if it helps to think so little of me, to be pissed off at me then do that,'' Eddie lobbed the insult at Buck. ''If that's what you have to do — then go ahead, go right ahead, Buck,''

''I wouldn't have had to be if you'd just have told me in the first place. I don't want to think that way of you, Eddie. But you're not exactly giving me anything more to go off of,''

''I'm giving you more than enough to go off of. You act like I'm walking away from you, when it's the city I'm walking away from, the job, not you,'' Eddie succors. ''I never walked away from you, Buck,''

''It must've never come up then. And the thing is that you didn't end up saying anything at all, did you? No, of course not. And why would you be expected to when instead it's been so much easier for everyone to tiptoe around behind my back lately,''

Eddie knew the simplest way to deflect Buck's investigations and intrusions was to turn the questions around, to shift the heat somewhere else.

''Why has that been easier?'' Eddie questions.

''You know why. And don't act like you aren't a part of the flock thinking it's easier to tiptoe around me than just talk to me, lately,''

''I've tried to remain impartial on that, actually. I didn't say If I was or wasn't thinking that, and if I was? That's still not what I asked. I asked why is it easier?''

''Because supposedly I'm too fragile to accept the truth,''

''Bingo, what you said right there? That's it. And can you blame us for it,'' Eddie asks. Buck goes to speak, but Eddie holds a hand up to interrupt. ''Are we wrong? Are you not spiraling?''

''I know what you're getting at but you aren't making the point you think you are,''

''How not?''

''Everyone's spiraling in their own ways, everyone is having a hard time, everyone is shaken. We've all been put through the ringer with this, you included, I know you're struggling,'' Buck lays that fact bare. ''So, It's not fair to single me out,''

''Even so, no one's been nearly as bad as you, no one's so — so pertinacious, so wholly fucking closed off and incapable of accepting help on this!'' Eddie deprecates. ''At the end of the day, Chimney has Maddie to talk to about this, Hen has Karen. And they do talk about it, but you? You've said nothing. You've been there for Ravi, for me, for everyone. And I see it splitting you into two —''

''You don't know what you're talking about,''

''How could I not? I see you losing your grip, goddamnit, Buck, I do. And it about fucking kills me to see how not okay you are. But you won't let me have your back, so if not me, then who do you let yourself have? I've been reaching out for you, trying to pull you out of your own misery before it swallows you whole. But you won't fucking let me!''

He's managed to stun the blonde, it shows. Be it by his words or the volume of them, Eddie isn't sure. He doesn't have to be either, Buck's quick to bounce back.

''You, out of anyone, saying that is like the pot calling the kettle black, your defenses are so high you don't let anyone in!'' Buck chants. ''You came here and yet you still haven't talked to me about anything,''

''I put an effort into letting you in, I always do. But you? You're worse than I was when I'd first been grieving Shannon, Buck. That's a problem, I've been down that road before. I've been the one to close myself off, it's not something I'd recommend,''

''And I'll deal with it, myself, I have to deal with it myself, I'm not going to go and bother everyone else who's in just as deep as I am. Because I can't handle my own shit,''

''You're being more thickheaded than I thought if that's what you think this is about,''

''I don't know what you want from me. You keep steering the conversation towards me though ironically enough, you're in the same boat as me. You don't look like you've slept since you've got back,''

''And I suppose you have? You've slept lately, is that what you're telling me?'' Buck's eyes scamper away from meeting his own. ''Yeah, that's right. I didn't think so. Can you say that we were wrong for all the sneaking around you, for thinking you were fragile at the moment? I mean look at the way you're acting now,''

''Why can you not see that I'm not behaving like anything! I think I'm acting pretty accordingly to what I just found out. You're the one leaving Eddie, you don't get to monitor and judge the way I react,''

''It's not nothing,''

''Not what you're acting like,'' Buck says definitively, and Eddie pinches his eyes shut and sighs. ''But I forgot, you're 100% correct, Eddie. I don't have a right to react, I can't feel any sort of way about you leaving like it's nothing,''

''I don't get to judge the way you react? Then you don't get to micromanage every little thing I say,''

''Don't have to micromanage anything to see that it was implied. This isn't about that though, what I can't get over is that,'' Buck elucidated. Sounding much quieter than the blonde had before. Sounding more vulnerable. Like Buck was unraveling in real time, right in front of Eddie. ''You,'' Buck paused, letting a wounded breath puncture through. ''You really think I wouldn't have been happy for you?''

He'd never think that, not that he'll say as much.

''No, it's more than that. I don't just think,'' Eddie answers, infuriatingly sure. ''I know you wouldn't of,''

And there it was — the first insult that had landed too heavy, the one that had just become irreversible. The words were out before he could stop them, hanging in the air like. Eddie could see it in Buck's eyes, the way the light dimmed just a little, like someone had flicked a switch.

Eddie almost thinks of ending things there, of taking it all back. Guilt burned sour in Eddie's stomach but he wasn't ready to apologize.

Not yet.

Patently, he knows it's not true, bullshit is what it is. Because Buck has always put him, him and Christopher before Buck himself. But Eddie is angry, angry, and grasping at the straws to keep that anger alive. So if bullshitting himself, along with Buck, is what he needs to do, then so be it.

So, it's decided, Eddie won't willingly give an apology and Buck didn't demand one either.

''Wow, okay, if that's how you feel, please go on. Never expected you, of all people, to say that to me,'' Buck remarks critically. ''Who's thinking lowly of who now?''

Like that, their words crashed into each other like a head-on collision would; Buck's sounding thin and maybe a little desperate, desperate to be heard. While Eddie's were solid, stubborn, and unbudging.

''You're making it so easy,'' Eddie obloquys. ''And you think I'm thinking lowly of you, that I'm looking down on you? You want to know the reason why that is?''

The other man held his ground just as well as Eddie did, he watched as Buck gave him a tight, challenging nod, inviting Eddie's next move. And Eddie? Eddie said things that should have never have been said at all.

''It's because you can't ever go without making it all about you, you make it all about you at times where it shouldn't be. And when it should be about you? You never do make it about you,'' Eddie arraigns. ''Maybe that's just part of The Trials And Tribulations Of Evan Buckley A Tragedy Of 97 Acts,''

Straight away, Eddie can feel that his words had cut deep crevasses into Buck's heart. And if Buck had been in Eddie's position, if he'd just landed that weighted of an insult, then he'd say the elder should feel proud of himself for how Eddie sure hits it on the money with that one, Buck cogitates. Because Buck would've, not even Buck can deny that every incident in Evan Buckley's life has been a tribulation, a tragedy in itself, ever since the moment Buck had been born.

For Buck, one tragedy always amalgamates with another. It never gets better.

It'd been Maddie leaving, then it had shifted to losing someone Buck'd been trying to save on call, to the ladder truck pinning him down, to a pulmonary embolism, filing the lawsuit, the tsunami, to the lightning strike. That was excluding Eddie's shooting, which Buck more often than not woke up to nightmares from, it also excluded the trauma experienced through Buck's childhood and from the Buckleys, the misconduct between Buck and that previous therapist. And all of Buck's pathetically failed relationships.

It's one thing after the next, one tribulation subsequently following another, as always. But to be called out on it, is different. And the brunette doesn't even know just how different this jab has hit, Eddie can't know what it does to Buck to hear those words said in that way, with that tone. So incensed and hostile that it nearly brought Buck back to a time where Buck had been standing against Margaret and Philip. To where Margaret had said that she didn't know what Buck or Maddie had expected her and Philip to do, that Buck and Maddie were the difficult ones in the whole ordeal and to love them was such a hard feat. To where Buck had pleaded 'Love me anyway,' wanting more than anything for parents to love Buck the way they were supposed to, even though Buck doesn't deserve it, even though Buck wasn't what they'd ever wanted or envisioned when having a kid, even though Buck had let them down over and over again, even though Buck wasn't Daniel.

To hear Eddie say what Eddie had, to have that thrown back in Buck's face, felt like experiencing that all over again and then some.

''You don't mean that,'' Tenuously Buck told him, voice coming out soft, disbelieving.

Disbelieving and on the brink of breaking.

And Buck's right, not that Eddie wants his adversary to know that. But Buck is right, Eddie could never mean even half of what he's said tonight. That doesn't mean he has to voice that.

''I don't? I'll tell you what, I think I do, Buck,'' Eddie's voice rumbled deep in his throat. ''The way I see it, the stone-cold truth is that you've been spiraling since the funeral,'' He snarled. ''And nobody knows how to talk to you about it,''

Throughout his statement, his eyes had been solidly focused on Buck's face. Tracking the man's facial expressions while stepping forward, it wasn't long before Eddie'd managed to come closer and closer until there wasn't much space left in between them. A mere foot at best.

''But I will,'' Eddie domineers.

He stays wishing Buck would do anything other than just tolerating the way he's behaving. Because Buck's holding back, the insults don't hit the same, don't land the way Eddie's are.

He's in front of Buck now, he doesn't know why he keeps this up, at first it'd been because he'd wanted a reaction. A fucked up part of Eddie had wanted to see Buck angry because anger is better than feeling nothing at all. This though? This wasn't where this had been supposed to go, isn't what he'd meant to say. He knows he's projecting, projecting his own issues onto Buck deeply.

''Right, how could I have missed this? Pardon me, Eddie, I didn't know it was such an inconvenience that I've been spiraling, spiraling since the funeral. Since Bobby's death,''

Exactly.

''You have been, you just hadn't admitted it to yourself until it was pointed out. Till it was directly under your nose,'' Eddie calumnies. ''It's good to recognize that you finally see it yourself, now question is, what are you going to do to work on it? You going to keep shutting me out,''

''That what you want?''

''Fuck, no! No, it's not what I want!''

''You and everybody else want to shift the focus onto me, want to claim I'm spiraling,''

Buck reaffirms. ''But conveniently enough, none of you could've bothered to have talked to me about it. Nobody even thought to ask what I was spiraling about. Well that's bullshit, it's bullshit for that to be held against me. Excuse me if I am a little out of control, Eddie,'' Buck feuded. ''I'm sorry that I'm a little sad over Bobby's death,"

Eddie's face drops.

Shifting uncomfortably under Eddie's horribly hurt expression, it's Buck that reevaluates. Not for long though, just as quickly as Eddie's expression had fallen he picked it up. And then, his reaction is instant, so instantaneous that Eddie doesn't even know he's done it.

"No, don't you dare," Eddie sibilated. ''You don't get to do that, not when you're not the only one that lost him, you don't get to act like you are,'' Eddie maligns. ''If you didn't know, I lost him too, Buck,''

He spits, pointing his finger into Buck's face accusingly, fresh tears stubbornly pooling in his eyes.

"I know that,''

''If you know so well then why do you think you're any different?'' Eddie snidely asks.

And for Buck, the tawny blonde-haired man knows it'd be best to answer, best to elaborate. That Eddie is avidly awaiting an answer, and Buck thinks of how Maddie is constantly telling Buck to communicate where it's needed, always saying that if the blonde wanted change, wanted to be heard, then Buck would need to initiate that change. That Buck needed to get over himself and just meet Eddie halfway on the communication.

So Buck would.

Communication at the least is something Buck owed to Eddie, even if Eddie didn't like what Buck had to say. And even if that very communication between them was cheapened from being done in the thick of an argument.

''You lost him from afar! And I'm not denying that you're just as affected, it's just as bad that you lost Bobby as it is that I've lost him. But when he passed, you were at a distance from it all, a spectator of it. You didn't have to be there as he.. — as he took his last breaths,'' Buck says, clearly harking back to the moment of it happening itself. ''I'm not saying you should've been, thank god you weren't, because it would've haunted you, Eddie. Just know, I never presented myself like I was the only one who lost him,''

''You lost him, Buck, and it's downright terrible it happened. But you're not the only one. We all did,''

Eddie said, and any other time it would've been said patiently, with a sense of softness from him that only was ever given to Buck. But this wasn't any other time. And so, it was said without a vestige of sympathy.

''Each of us lost him and you know what? We've just been trying to do our damned best to get through it,''

He reminds, striding forward, resembling that of a lion in pursuit of its prey. Eddie doesn't know when he'd done it, isn't sure when it'd gotten to the point of him invading Buck's space, but he had.

''You aren't the only one who lost him,''

The words are like a physical blow, at them, Buck's reaction is instant, it's so immediate and instantaneous that if someone were to blink they'd risk missing it. But the thing here is that Eddie hadn't blinked, hadn't missed it as Buck seemed to cringe at Eddie's words.

He for sure hadn't misheard Buck's noise that seemed to come from Buck's lips almost automatically.

He'd heard it. Had heard it as a dissonant sound tore itself from Buck's throat, demanding to be heard. And damnit, with the way Buck had responded to what he'd said — it'd sounded as if Eddie had punched his fist into the man's abdomen. As if he'd physically hurt the blonde.

Once he'd picked up Buck's instinctive noise, Eddie's eyes widened like he didn't mean to say that out loud but he did. He did and there was no taking it back.

Buck barely managed not to release a shudder, fingers flexing against the linoleum of the counter, like the blonde was trying to hold himself together.

And Eddie hated that.

He felt so much antipathy towards anyone in Buck's life that had drilled it into Buck that Buck always had to be okay, although he also hated that Buck did this to himself. That the blonde let himself shoulder so much weight all of the time.

It'd never sit well with Eddie, it never would. Not when Buck had gotten him to stop doing that and he supposes Frank had helped.

Buck had helped him, so why did Buck always think that the male had to shoulder everything alone? That's what Eddie despises, the fact that Buck felt the need to keep it all together, when people had been trying to express that Buck could do the exact opposite. That Buck had people here that weren't going to run the second Buck was human and fucking broke, that Buck had him.

It didn't make sense to him about why Buck always forgot that, or why the blonde always seemed to think he'd desert the other. He's not sure who it was that had originally planted that seed so firmly into Buck's mind, he's not sure who so wholeheartedly made Buck believe that the second Buck was anything other than easy to deal with, or that when things got difficult that Buck would be left behind.

As he'd stated, he's not sure if it's The Buckleys, Abby, Taylor, or Tommy, Eddie doesn't care. He thinks he hates anyone and everyone who has helped that kind of thinking into Buck's mind. He hates anyone who's encouraged Buck to think that way, doesn't like that it still had this kind of grip on Buck. Hated that even now, with Buck in his kitchen, with Eddie's hands on the younger, there was still something keeping Buck from letting go.

But before Eddie could push further, Buck exhaled — the noise shaky and uneven in itself.

____

All Buck can see when he looks at Eddie is the imminence of him making this worse. There's the way that Eddie's dark eyes are clouded over, blazing in anger, hot and fiery like an inferno, the intensity to Eddie's eyes isn't all Buck sees, though. There's a distinct tick in the elder's jaw from where Eddie's jaw is clenched.

Eddie looks pissed to say the least — pissed at him.

Fuck, Eddie's pissed at him. Buck hates fighting with Eddie; he execrate's it so, so deeply. He'd always thought Eddie hated it as well, despite being the more confrontational one out of them, but maybe Eddie didn't loathe arguing nearly as much as he did, because if Eddie had, they wouldn't be arguing now. Wouldn't be at the core of their worst argument as of yet.

That's what it is after all, they'd never fought before like this, never like this. There hadn't even been any to come in as a close second, Buck knows it was a worse one than the one-sided one they'd had during the lawsuit.

To tell you the truth, he hates fighting with anyone because it's all he's come to know since he'd been a child. The result of it is always the same, it always leads to him being met with a cold shoulder after the fact and stormy silences filled with words that neither can take back.

It ends with hyper vigilance, with him watching the others' every move and scanning the room for escape routes and his dad's hands flashing behind his eyelids.

As a child, he'd hated the way his insides squirmed every time his mother sighed or his father raised his voice. He hated the subtle panic that overtook him when he realized he hadn't done something perfectly, that he'd disappointed them somehow again.

And god, is Buck feeling all that now. It's all he feels. There's a tremor just beneath his skin that Buck has spent years learning to hide, and a fear that hasn't quite receded in all the years since he left his parents' house lurking in every corner of his mind, and fuck, he hates fighting.

Buck hates fighting with anyone but he really hates fighting with Eddie.

Because there's no one in the world more important to him than Eddie, no one that his heart cries out for more than Eddie Diaz, no one who sees him the way Eddie does and that's terrifying. Eddie holds so much power over him that Buck isn't sure how there's not a shadow hanging over them at all times.

And Buck doesn't ever want to risk losing that.

____

After the breath is emitted from his friend, Eddie scans Buck. Sees the way Buck seems to shrink away from him, slinking back as though Buck can plaster himself against the countertops. Eddie doesn't let him.

''Yeah, I know,'' Buck says to him faintly, a direct response to his last comment.

His last comment, that had been the biting, 'you're not the only one who lost him,' and there's a tightly knit truth that's coiled into Buck's own reply.

There's truth in Buck's response, in those words, like the younger man really seems to mean it.

''I know I wasn't, I do. I don't know why I said it like that. Because I didn't mean it,''

There's that same sense of truth and there's exhaustion tethered together, like it's effectively drained everything in Buck's body to come to terms with that. Eddie knows that it's not the comment of them all losing Bobby that'd done it, it'd been the one about doing their damnedest to get through it.

All the fight, anger, and all of Buck's spunk is gone. The first solid emotion Eddie had seen Buck let himself feel is gone.

And Eddie doesn't think, doesn't think of the impulsiveness, he just does. He stalks forward, grabbing at Buck by the shoulder, desperate and uncoordinated. Staring up at Buck's face with a haunted look that Eddie thinks must rival even when Shannon died.

And then Eddie's digging the hole deeper, because that's what he does.

''Really?'' Eddie jeered at the younger, pointing a finger into Buck's face accusingly.

It's nice to pretend it's not trembling in the air even as he tried to keep it still, tears pooling in his eyes.

And still, Buck stares. Not moving away from his gesticulating limb, not combating it, not doing anything. Peering at him with that same fucking desolate expression that hasn't settled, that might never settle if Buck keeps shutting everyone away. It's the look of nothingness that he'd seen creeping up on Buck even before Bobby's passing is there.

Eddie can't see it. Not anymore, he needs to see something else. Because if Eddie has to see Buck look at him that way again he's going to break. Going to fall apart like a piece of broken ceramic.

"Do you?'' Eddie spits, pointing his finger in Buck's face like a fencer would an épée.

His verbal attack is as direct and jabbing as can be. The incursion is what breaks Buck's silence. Buck takes the attack in stride, looking at Eddie's finger, then taking a step back.

''Do I what?''

''Why don't you tell me, do you know that you aren't the only one who lost him?'' Eddie scourged. ''Are you really aware that this isn't some competitive game where we get to compare and contrast our grief and figure out who's more affected? You don't get to do that when you are not the only person who lost him, Buck,'' He tergiversated. ''And if we're going to start that, at the very least you should be grateful that you were there! You weren't hundreds of miles away, with no idea what was going on until one in the morning. You didn't have to find out and mourn silently in a dark room so you wouldn't terrify the hell out of your kid down the hall, So. Don't. You. Dare,"

''You're right,'' Finally, Buck concedes, ''I don't think I was ready to hear you out, or see that you were right, but if anything's to put this into perspective it's that. I should've said you were sooner,''

''What was stopping you?''

''I wish I knew, maybe, I wasn't willing to see it from your perspective for the reason that I wasn't thinking of it like that,'' Buck validates. ''I wasn't seeing it from your side the way I am now. That must've been difficult. For you, for Christopher, and I'm sorry..''

Buck whispered, head lowering and gaze forcibly torn away from the pain in Eddie's eyes. Eddie retracted his grip on the younger man's shoulder, letting it fall slack.

''It's not even that it was difficult, I mean, it was. That goes without saying,'' Eddie ends up reasoning. ''Saying it's difficult would be simplifying it too much though. It's just grappling with the feeling of helplessness. I just — I can't forget, I can't forgive myself. When I think about it, I wasn't there when it counted,'' He replied, shaking his head distraughtly. ''And I should've been there, if I'd have been there for Bobby.."

''No, that's not — that isn't your fault,''

"If I'd only been here maybe then..'' Eddie says, unrepentant.

Eddie's nostrils flare as he fights back the tears. Buck frowns, stepping forward and cocking his head in confusion.

''Then what Eddie?''

''Maybe then I could've done something..''

Something drops in Buck's chest, plummeting. That stung a little, but was it wrong? The blonde didn't think it was exactly.

Right, Eddie could've done something to save Bobby. Not Buck, Buck could never save anyone it seemed.

But the fire between them isn't snuffed out, it'd wavered for a moment, refracted into concern from Buck cringing earlier. But that fire isn't gone, it's still there and Buck's mouth moved faster than the blonde's brain could.

"What..'' Bucks voice hits a moment of cessation, until, ''Eddie, wait, are you —''

''Am I what? Spit it out, Buck,''

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