Chapter Text
Buck watches the fire like it might burn the truth out of him. He doesn’t speak for a while. When he finally does, his voice is nothing more than a thread of smoke.
“You ever love someone so much it starts to feel like a sickness? Like it rots you slowly from the inside out?”
Eddie doesn’t look at him. His elbows rest on his knees. His fingers are tangled together, strangling each other for control.
“Buck, don’t do this right now.”
“I have to.” Buck swallows, but the lump in his throat stays lodged there. “I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I can’t keep playing this part. Sitting next to you. Laughing like I’m not bleeding just being near you. You’ve got me trapped in a life I didn’t choose, and I keep living it anyway because it’s the only way I get to keep you close.”
Eddie finally lifts his head, slow and careful, like the truth might snap his neck if he moves too fast.
“You’re drunk.”
“I wish I was.” Buck laughs without humor. “God, I wish I was too drunk to feel anything. But I’m not. I’m wide awake inside a nightmare I can’t stop reliving. Every day with you is the same twisted chapter. I’m the guy who loves too much, too loud, and always gets written out in the end. Like the story was designed to punish me for wanting you.”
Eddie flinches. Not visibly, but something deep in him jerks, silent and violent.
“You think this is easy for me?” Eddie asks, voice sharp. “You think hearing this is some kind of relief?”
“No,” Buck says. His eyes are glass, but he doesn’t look away. “I think it’s hell for both of us. The only difference is I’ve been living in it with the door wide open. You locked yourself inside and called it safety.”
Eddie stands up like his legs are moving before his mind does. He paces away from the fire. His back is rigid. His breath is shaky.
“You don’t understand,” he mutters. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Then tell me,” Buck pleads. “Tell me what it’s like hiding behind all those walls you built out of guilt and fear. Tell me what it’s like being so close to someone you want but too scared to reach for them.”
Eddie turns around. His eyes are furious and wet.
“You think I don’t feel it?” His voice breaks in the middle, like it’s fighting its way through him. “You think I don’t know there’s something between us? I feel it every damn day. It sits in my chest like a caged animal and scratches from the inside. But I can’t let it out. Because the second I open that door, everything I’ve built will fall. My life. My family. My son. I’ve worked so hard to pretend I’m fine. That I’m straight. That I’m safe. And you showing up in every part of my life like you’re supposed to be there just makes the closet feel smaller. Tighter. Like I’m going to drown in it and no one will even know I was gasping.”
Buck is quiet for a long time. Then he steps forward. Slow. Careful.
“You’re not gasping, Eddie. You’re suffocating. And I’ve been sitting outside that door listening to you choke, waiting for you to call for help. But you never do.”
Eddie looks at him. There is so much hurt on his face it barely looks like him.
“I can’t be what you need.”
Buck doesn’t move any closer.
“I never asked you to be anything but honest with me.”
Eddie’s expression twists like something inside him is tearing in two.
“You want the truth?” His voice drops, hoarse and hollow. “I think about you when I’m alone. I think about you when I shouldn’t. I think about how your voice sounds when you’re tired, and how you touch people like you’re afraid you’ll break them, and how you look at me like I’m something you want to protect. And I hate it. I hate that I want you. I hate that you feel like home. And I hate myself for being too afraid to live in a house that might burn down.”
Buck closes his eyes. He bites down on the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.
“Then say it,” he whispers. “Say you don’t love me. Say there’s nothing here and I’ll walk away. I’ll never bring it up again. But don’t stand there and hand me scraps while your hands are shaking because you want to give me more.”
Eddie’s throat works silently. No words come.
“That’s what I thought,” Buck says.
The air between them feels bruised. Neither one moves. The fire snaps and groans like it knows it’s the only thing still burning tonight.
Eddie turns away. His voice is almost too soft to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
Buck stares at the back of his head. Something in him gives way.
“You keep saying that like it’s a cure. Like it undoes anything.”
Eddie doesn’t look back.
Buck steps away from the fire. His chest feels hollow. His hands shake.
“You can live in that closet forever if you want. But don’t expect me to keep pretending I’m not breaking just to sit outside the door.”
He leaves without waiting for permission. The sound of the gate closing behind him is the last thing Eddie hears before the night swallows everything whole.
Eddie stands alone, breathing in smoke and guilt. And none of it feels real anymore.
He looks at the fire. It’s dying. He doesn’t try to save it.
He just watches.
Like he always does.