Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line, and share it! Then tag you’re it!
Tagged by @spotsandsocks, @elvensorceress, and @thekristen999! Thanks beloveds!
my heart gets lost (like a message)
“I missed a lot of this.” Eddie says, turning his attention to where Jee’s fingers have found the chain of his St. Christopher medal.
“When Chris was little I was halfway around the world for most of it.” he continues, gently untangling her fist from the necklace. “I told myself it was the only way I could provide for my family, and maybe that was true. But…” He trails off with a sigh. “I missed so much. I can’t get that back.” He looks up, meets Chimney’s gaze.
calling out a mayday (is anybody there?)
“God. Eddie.” He breaths, clutching the sooty bomber jacket in his hands so tight his fingers start to go numb. He’s shaking so hard he’s not sure how he’s still standing. Eddie is shaking too, and for a moment cold fear spikes through Buck’s chest. He tries to pull away, afraid that something is really wrong after all, but Eddie refuses to loosen his grip. The shuddering in his shoulders increases and he hides his face against Buck’s neck. That’s when Buck realizes. Eddie isn’t crying.
the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)
“Eddie.” Buck sighs, “I want to be here.” And there’s something so tender in his expression that Eddie feels his breath stutter in his chest. Behind him the heart monitor makes an unhappy wail as his pulse picks up. There’s no mistaking the sound of smothered amusement coming from the corner of the room this time but Eddie can’t take time to glare in its direction because Buck has zeroed in on the traitorous machine hanging above Eddie’s head (like the sword of fucking Damocles).
i'll be there in the summer ('cause you're heart isn't safe)
“What’s going on kid?” He asks, “Are you hurt?”
“No. No I’m ok.” He says, and while Bobby suspects ok might be a stretch, he’s sounding better than he was. “I uh, I need to take tomorrow off, maybe Thursday too. I’m sorry, I know it's late notice, but I–I need–” He trails off again and Bobby shoots his wife a look.
“Where are you Buck?” Bobby asks, “Do I need to come get you?”
“No.” Buck says, “No, I’m at Eddie’s.” And oh. Oh fuck.
“Is Eddie ok?” It's the question he has to ask, but it's the one he absolutely doesn't want to hear the answer to because he already knows–
“Uh. No.” Buck’s voice is thick and Bobby is shoving his feet into shoes before he even has time to think.
Dreamin' of the West Coast
On stage Evan Buckley exudes a sexy ‘boy next door’ sort of charm, playing into it by making his bandmates laugh in the middle of musical breaks (much to the fond exasperation of Hen, who is most often with in line of sight whenever the camera is trained on him), and his easy banter with the audience that always somehow seems smooth as glass and totally natural at the same time. Eddie had watched a handful of interviews early this morning when he couldn’t sleep, trying to get a feel for how the band interacted, and even off stage Evan had always seemed to be the social center of the group, his laugh warm and his expression open. And yes, Eddie's noticed the square line of his jaw, the bright blue of his eyes, the distinctive birthmark splashed over one eye. But seeing that on his 13 inch computer screen is a far cry from seeing it in person, and for one horrible second Eddie is sure he’s about to do something stupid like reach out and run his fingers over the arch of Evan’s brow. He could do it. He’d get kicked out of the theater and maybe arrested, but he could do it. It's a little bit like seeing a master painting in person for the first time. Eddie finds himself bowled over by the sheer aesthetics of it all.
Buck is—fine. He’s rising to his feet, his eyes wide but a slightly hysterical laugh twisting his mouth up at the corners.
“Woah!” He says, grinning as he tries to dust some of the rain water off his turnouts, an unconscious gesture to steady his own nerves. “That was close huh?”
The man behind the wheel is yelling now. Somehow Bobby has materialized beside the driver’s side window and is speaking in a voice so normal Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend what is being said.
One of the most common injuries when a pedestrian is struck by a car is pelvic fractures. Shannon’s had been broken in six places. It would be impossible for a victim with that kind of structural damage to be standing, let alone heaving a bike up off the ground from where it must have toppled. The bike should have absorbed some of the impact, it might have even twisted itself around the body of the person who had been struck. That’s odd. He doesn’t have the stats on that.
disgrace, give me a break (trying to die happy someday)
“Eat that,” Eddie says, settling into the seat just around the corner of the bar. “Then you can go to bed.”
“Probably shouldn’t have had all that coffee.” Buck says, the first bite of soft bread and savory cheese reminding him exactly how long its been since he last ate.
“Please.” scoffs Eddie, “Like I would give you caffeine right now.” Buck eyes the coffee cup with an offended pout.
“I could taste it was off.” he says, and Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and pushes away from the counter.
i accepted i need you now (i need you now)
“That’s it.” Someone is saying, there are still hands on his back, others on his heaving ribs trying to help him force up all the gunk he’s just swallowed. “Get it all up Eddie, you’re ok.” It's another full minute before he can even think about doing anything but choke, but at last it feels like he’s gotten most of the water out, even if his stomach is churning and his lungs feel like they’re full of glass. The rest of him is going pleasantly numb, which a distant part of him knows is probably not great. He tries to sit back on his heels, wants to reassure the anxious hands still solid on his back that he’s ok, just waterlogged, but he can’t seem to make his body behave. When he tips sideways there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
do you wanna die alone (or watch it all burn down together)
That little speck, the tiny seed of hope and want and Buck…had blossomed. He’s been tending it for a while now, quietly content to run his fingers over the delicate green shoots and pale petals in the still hours of the night. And it had felt like enough, it really had. To know he can love, that he’s still capable of something he’d once thought lost to him, that he is loved, whatever that love might look like, whatever shape it takes. He has loved Buck since he brought Carla into Eddie and Christopher’s lives. He has been in love with Buck since that quiet Tuesday in May when they were decorating the living room for Chris’s birthday party and Buck had glanced up at him over a tangle of stars and planets garland and Eddie had felt the entire world shift on its axis.
the subtle grace of gravity (the heavy weight of stone)
The sky is dark now, the dim crimson light of the fully eclipsed moon just a smudge against the sky, too weak to compete with the ever present lights of the city. Eddie shivers despite the warmth of the night air.
Behind him the screen door clicks softly shut.
“Hey.” Buck says, sliding into the space beside him, he smells like the ginger body wash he keeps in their shared locker at work. Eddie wants to turn to him, wants to see his face, to kiss the soft skin of his cheek, but he can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the place where the last sliver of golden light has winked out. Not forever, he tries to remind himself, not for good. He feels heavy and afraid.
These are laughably not one line. I'll tag @onward--upward, @ajunerose, @confetti-cupcake, @messyhairdiaz, @gaydisasterdiaz, and @djdangerlove. Forgive me if you've already done this, I'm so behind on my dash!
tangentwithtanner
blakekathryn
titsay
kaledo-art
