#lovingly called

[disaster-j]

do i wanna know (if this feeling flows both ways)

BuckTommy | Rated: E | Words: 8k/?

Summary: Evan Buckley meets the love of his life in the midst of his biggest heartbreak. That is merely the beginning of the complications…

Sneak peek:

The funny thing is.

Eddie had warned him this would happen. 

Back in those early days when Buck was still flinching at the sound of thunder and Eddie would still hold him like he would disappear if he didn’t. Back when Buck had found renewed hope for the state of his future in the words of Eddie’s stunted confession. 

“I am so fucking scared, Buck, I- I am going to ruin this. I just know it.”

And Buck, the fool that he was, hadn’t believed him. Had kissed his best friend in the world and soothed the other man’s fears until he could breathe while holding him again. 

He hadn’t realised just how well Eddie knew himself, to even predict his own future failings. 

(read the rest of ch1 on ao3)

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

God I want to be so much more.

I want to be so much

More

Than what I am.

And it's so obvious.

I betray myself

In everything I do.

Everything I

Think.

Everything I

Say.

I am so painfully obvious.

So painfully

Human.

And god I wish I was

More

Or

Less.

But I'm not.

No matter how hard I try.

I wish I had

Some

Deep

Cavernous

Hole

Inside of me,

Full of everything

Or

Nothing.

But I don't.

It's just muscle and sinew

And blood

And

Meat.

I wish I had

Some

Dark

Secret

Lurking

Just under the surface.

At least then

I would be

Interesting.

But I don't.

I am just me.

Slightly disgusting,

Sometimes sad,

Deeply flawed,

But otherwise

Painfully

Normal,

Me.

I eat too much

Whipped cream

Even though I say

"No whipped cream"

Everytime I order a

Latte

Because I don't want it

Then

But I want it

Every

Other

Time.

It doesn't make sense.

And it doesn't matter.

Who cares?

I wish I was more

Than chipped nails

And

Dirty

Sweat pants.

I wish I was

Gorgeous

Or

Monstrous.

Even if I may feel like it

Somedays,

I am not

The worst.

I am not evil.

I am not horrible.

I am slightly ugly.

And sometimes mean.

Because I don't think.

Because I'm not a genuis.

But I am not unworthy of love.

And maybe that's

What gets me.

Maybe I want to be.

Because it would make things

So

Much

Easier.

It would explain

Why

I feel so

Unloved.

It's so simple.

I just don't deserve it.

But that's not true.

Because I haven't done anything

Wrong.

I feel

Wrong.

But that is because I am

Human.

Nothing

More.

Nothing

Less.

And that just

Fucking

Kills

Me.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

I feel like a

Scarecrow

Crucified

For the means of

Production.

Nailed to the cross I bear

To unburden the

Farmers

Who own these lands.

To scare away the only

Direct threat

To their business.

Strung up to

Atone

For

Sins

That are not mine.

They can't be.

I was only made

Yesterday.

Potato sack skin

And

Eyes

Of

Stone,

I am the perfect

Martyr.

My heart is

Straw.

It burns so easily.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

Hot

And

Cold.

That's what we were.

The

Burning

Heat,

The

Bitting

Cold.

Always painful.

We

Existed

With

Broken

Skin.

Tearing ourselves

Open

To feel the

Extremes

Of

One another.

Nails

On

Flesh

Heroin

Getting our

Fix

From the

Wounds

We

Inflicted.

Well

Who

Are

You

Inflicting

Now?

And can she

Hurt

You

Like

I can?

Because

I'm

Too

Cold

Without you.

And if there's

Any

Justice

In the

World,

You're

Alone

Just like me.

And

You're

Burning

Yourself

Alive.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

I've been thinking a lot about

Alcohol.

It's been on my

Mind

Almost as

Frequently

As it's

Been

In my

Stomach.

And I've always wondered

Why

We

Drink.

Why we

Smoke.

Why we do things

That are

So

Obviously

Killing us.

And I think

It's

Because we love to

Flirt.

With ourselves

With each other

With the

Idea

Of our own

Demise.

We love to

Brush up

Against it

And

Excuse

Ourselves

As if to say

"I definitely didn't just touch you.

Unless you

Wanted

Me

To?"

It's like that analogy

With the

Poison cake.

If I have two

Cakes

And

I tell you

That the one on the

Left

Is

Poisoned,

You're obviously not

Going to

Eat

That

Cake,

Right?

But I think that

There would

Always

Be a part of you

That thought

"I bet just a

Taste

Wouldn't

Kill

Me."

There would always be

A

Part

Of you,

No matter how

Small,

That would want to

Swipe

Your finger

Across the

Top

And

Lick the frosting

Off of it

Just to

See.

Just to

Try.

Just to

Taste.

And that's the part that likes to

Flirt

With

Death.

It's the feeling of

Standing

On the edge of a

Roof,

Looking out over a city

That may one day

House your

Grave,

And thinking very very hard

About

Stepping off.

It's a hug in a pandemic.

It's a needle through your nose.

It's every five hour energy

Adding up

To

Hundreds

Of

Hours

Of

Sleepless nights

And

Bruised eyed days.

It's running until you collapse.

It's wearing nose bleed heels

In the dead of winter

Walking across

Black ice

In order to get to

Your local

Applebees.

It's every smile

You've ever

Shot

At a

Stranger,

Daring them to

Smile

Back.

It's that feeling in your chest

When

You wake up

After a rough night

And you make some eggs

And you drink some coffee

And you

Wonder

How you survived.

And then you take

Fifteen

Tylenol

And go back to bed,

Just to wake up in another

Three

Hours

And

Wonder

All

Over

Again.

It's

Life,

Isn't it?

Over and over and over again

It's living until you

Can't

Anymore.

Because any second could be

Your

Last.

Everything you

Do

Is

Deadly.

So pierce your nose.

Hug your friend.

Stand as close to the edge

As you

Like.

And

Live.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

Oh to be a

Demon

In love with an

Angel.

To believe that you have

Fallen

For someone

Who could never even

Dream

To fall for you.

Because they've never

Fallen

Before.

But you know

Falling

All too well.

You've been falling

All your life.

Head over heels

Straight to

Hell.

And this is no different.

Like a swan dive

From the furthest star

That you helped design

Once upon a time,

You fall from something

Beautiful

For

Something

Beautiful

Because of

Something

Beautiful

And you land in

Agony.

You catch fire

On the way

Down

And you burn

And

Burn

And

Burn

Until there's nothing left

But

Skeletal wings

And a cinder

Love note

Sweet words

Written in

Ashes

"You are perfection.

You are elegance personified.

You are holy beyond compare.

Let's have sex."

You wipe the blood

That runs down your

Cheek

Like tears

Like a red river

Like a cool spring in the summer.

But on your skin it

Sizzles.

It boils and bubbles

And

Flows

Scorching a line into your

Face

As it

Falls.

And you catch it on your

Forked tongue

Like a burning

Snowflake.

You keep it

Like a

Secret.

Just one more

Sin

To write in your

Diary.

Just one more

Iron

Nail

In your

Coffin.

Just one more

Whispered

Confession.

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I'm in hell

Come rescue me

Let's have sex.

Let's touch like we're

Not supposed to.

Let's do something

Bad

Because I

Love

You.

Let's burn each other

Because you

Don't

Love

Me.

Just let me

Look at

You.

Something to be

Beheld.

Something to be

Revered.

All bright white pristine glory

Shining

And

Beautiful

And

Far more terrifying than

Me.

Just let me hold you

Against my blackened form

I know I'm

Rough

And

Scarred

But I can be

Soft

Too

Like volcanic rock

I crumble too easily.

Let me fall apart in your

Hands.

Let the feathers from your

Wings

Brush away

All that I am.

Let me remake myself

Before your eyes.

Form me into something new

Something nicer.

Something prettier.

Something room temperature.

Easier to consume.

Let me break down

Condense myself

And be reborn in your grace.

Let's reinvent the word

Tenderness

With how lightly

We touch each other.

Let's confuse the cosmos

With how

Reverently

We adore each other.

Let's mix intense cold

And

Intense heat

And create something

Soft

Where

Rock

Should form.

Let's do something

Forbidden.

Let's do something

Horrible.

Let's do something

Lovely.

Let's have sex.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

I'm not good on my own.

I'm less me.

People say that you are your

True self

When you're alone

But I

Disagree.

I'm someone else entirely.

And that can't be who I

Really

Am.

Because that person

Doesn't exist.

That person

Is a

God.

See, I can do

Anything

When I'm alone.

I can create whole worlds,

Dream them into existence

With just as much

Effort

As it takes to

Close my eyes.

I can conjure up

Any sort of planet I like.

Fill it with people,

With plants,

With animals.

I can create societies

With the intricacies

That make life itself worth living

I can breathe air into

Lungs

That never even existed

Before

I thought them up.

I can paint colors that would

Make you

Dizzy

I can form words that would

Make you

Fall in love

I can fabricate universes

That would put our little

Corner booth galaxy to shame.

And I can destroy them too.

Just as easily.

I am all powerful.

I am celestial grace

And

Immortal mercy.

But

I am also

Infinitely lonely

And

Narcissistically bored.

As all gods are.

The only one of my kind

Trapped somewhere between

Heaven

And

Hell

So I dream up my own

Purgatory.

I fill my void with

Invisible

Spiders

That creep up my

Spine

And along my

Thighs

And across the back of my

Neck

And formless

Beetles

That

Scurry along the floorboards,

Disappearing into

Nooks and crannies

That weren't there a second ago

Escaping from

Impossible

Situations,

Squeezing their way out

From under my boot

And winglessly flying up the

Walls

Only to seep into the

Dirty wallpaper

Like scarab apparitions.

I conjure

Faceless shadows.

Long

Spindly

Creatures

That lurk just on the edge of my

Vision

Never completely

Visible

But never

Far

From my mind.

Always standing.

Watching.

Seemingly

Waiting for something.

Never ominous.

Simply

Patient.

Passive.

But never so unassuming

That I should

Let my guard down.

I created them, after all.

I know what they're

Capable of.

The days pass as I sit and

Dream

My nightmares

Into existence

And I don't question it.

Why would I?

It's all my doing anyway.

From my domain of

Manicured lawns.

My holy cul-de-sacs.

My ivory palace

Of

Stucco plaster

And

Faux brick veneers.

Jesus of suburbia.

A twice dead

Backyard

Rockstar

Not quite six feet under

Not quite

Living on top.

Somewhere inbetween.

Like wading through

A murky quicksand

Of my own

Making

Like pond scum

Skimmed off the top of my

Brain

And placed

Beneath my feet

To prove

Once and for all

That walking on water

Should be left to the

Professionals.

I did this to myself.

I brought this on myself.

A new

Plague

For every

Sin

I commit against

Myself.

See,

It's so

Easy

To blame the devil.

To blame God.

To blame others.

To blame yourself.

To say that your

Best friend

Ruined your life.

That

You

Could've done things

Differently.

That

Satan

Wormed his way into your

Heart

And forced you.

That God is

Punishing you

For your

Hubris.

But have you ever considered

That

Gods

Have

Hubris

Of their own?

And on a celestial level,

When

Justice

Needs to be done,

Who

Punishes

God?

Who punishes me?

And if

I

Really am

The cosmic

Judge,

Jury,

And

Executioner,

It really is a

Miracle

That I'm not

Dead

Yet.

[fucking-pimberly-i-guess]

Be careful what you wish for.

I wanted happiness.

And I got it.

But when it runs out, I have to

Buy

More

And I can't afford it now.

I wanted the world to

Stop

For a little bit

I wanted

Down time

I wanted

To be

Alone

But I never realized

How truely

Lonely

It is to be alone

When there is no one else

Around

To be

Lonely

With.

I wanted to care about

Something.

I wanted to care so much

It hurt.

I wanted something to be

Perfect

Just once.

But now the paranoia in me says

"It'd be easier if you just died."

And the perfectionist in me says

"I can't.

I don't know how.

I've never done it before.

What if I do it

Wrong?"

I wanted to feel normal

But now

Normal

Is climbing the walls

Like Lance on

Acid

And watching the seconds

Tick

By

One after another

Adding up to an impossible

Number

That represents

All the time we've wasted

Trying to be

Whatever the

Idea

Of a

Person

Is

That we each individually

Constructed

For ourselves.

As if we know.

As if any of us could ever

Conceive

What we really are.

As if any of us ever really

Know

Each other.

I used to think

The big clock in my brain

Was counting down.

Like we were all

Running

Out of

Time.

But now it just ticks up and up

Until it reaches

Infinity

And then it continues on

Because there's

Nothing

Else

To

Do.

But what's the alternative?

A job

A house

A family

Or maybe travel

To another country

Where there are

Houses

And

Roads

And

People

Just like here.

Just like anywhere.

What exactly did I think

Was

Out

There?

And why the hell

Did I want it

So

Badly?

They say

Be careful what you wish for.

I wanted to be content.

I wanted to not

Want

Anymore.

Well I got that, I suppose.

Because now I know

There is

Nothing

In the world

Worth

Wanting

Anyway.