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Eventually- because it has to- everything starts to slow. The room stops spinning at frankly dizzying speeds and the air around him starts to feel less hot, less stifled with the disappointment and failure that seems to be emanating from Eddie himself, and more breathable, so that when he takes a breath it actually reaches his lungs.
Years of experience giving CPR and he finally knows what it feels like to take that first gasping breath after suffocating for far too long. Knows now that it burns white hot down your throat like swallowing a fire poker. His body fighting so valiantly to keep him alive while also doing its level best to make that impossible.
Eddie’s entire body feels heavy- heavier than it’s ever felt in possibly his entire life- when sensation starts creeping back in, beginning with his hands, still oddly numb where they’re wrapped around the baseball bat and the soft material of Buck’s shirt. There’s a dull throbbing in his knuckles, which Eddie can see past the grey edges ringing around his vision is due to the bloody cracks and ripped skin there.
A whimper catches in the back of his throat. He makes an aborted move to touch, to graze the broken skin with a blood-caked nail, but before he can reach, Buck catches his hand, threading their fingers together gently. It feels like it’s happening to someone else as Eddie watches Buck bring their joint hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against the too hot skin of Eddie’s hand briefly before tucking them safely against Buck’s chest.
And it’s… it’s so gentle and so incredibly Buck that it brings tears to Eddie’s eyes.
Because no one’s ever been gentle with Eddie like Buck is. Buck has this way of picking up broken things without making them feel broken- hell, probably without even realizing just how broken they actually are himself- and puts them back together. And now Eddie’s one of those broken things, shattered and cracked open for Buck to see.
Maybe that’s not who she is right now. This time maybe she’s the one who needs taking care of.
The words come back to haunt him unprompted, and, not for the first time, Eddie wonders how much he was talking about Maddie in that moment and how much he was talking about himself. How much he was letting slip without intending to.
Suddenly, he’s seven years old again, ripping his knuckles raw and bloody while he listens to his parents argue about him in the living room.
God, he was never good enough, was he? Right from the start always disappointing someone in some way or another. Never smart enough. Never athletic enough. Never interested in the right people. Even when he found a nice girl to settle down with, it still wasn’t enough. And when he had Christopher, became a father-
Blocking out the thoughts starting to race back in, Eddie tucks his face further into the crook of Buck’s neck, letting the spicy scent of Buck’s cologne and the lavender of his laundry detergent calm him. Buck squeezes Eddie tighter against him where Eddie’s collapsed on his chest, their legs tangled together in a mess on the floor. The baseball bat is digging into Buck’s side and it can’t be comfortable, but Buck says nothing about it. Just continues to hold Eddie tighter like he can keep Eddie from unraveling with the strength of his arms alone.
“Do you want to try standing up?” Buck asks quietly when the silence has stretched on too long, lips brushing Eddie’s hair and the tip of his ear.
Even now, with months of distance and space between them, Buck still knows exactly what Eddie needs without having to be told. So, Eddie nods his head and lets Buck pull them both slowly to their feet, faltering slightly under their combined weight.
Eddie’s legs are pins and needles, and he’s sure that Buck’s not fairing any better judging by the pained grimace he’s trying his best to hide. All in all, he can’t really say how long they’ve been sitting on the floor. Just knows that it’s been awhile. Longer than should be deemed acceptable, and it brings a fresh wave of tears to his eyes that he’s become so tragic he can’t even pull himself together enough to pick himself up off the fucking floor without someone here to do it for him. Pathetic.
“Hey. You’re not pathetic,” Buck admonishes lightly, and oh, Eddie must’ve said that out loud. There’s a little twist to Buck’s mouth that screams that he wants to say more, but he’s clearly choosing everything he says and does right now very carefully so he lets it drop there.
Ushering them back, Buck helps Eddie sit on the edge of the bed, instantly taking some of the weight off of his body. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay Eds. We’ll do it one step at a time.” Buck takes hold of the bat and carefully pries Eddie’s fingers from their death grip around the base. “I don’t think you’re gonna need this tonight, but just in case, we can keep it right here,” he says, propping the bat up against the wall at the head of the bed.
And it’s stupid- it’s so fucking stupid- but the fact that Buck left the bat within reaching distance makes something tight in Eddie’s chest loosen a little. Buck understands, knows that even if there’s no real threat in the house and even if there was Buck would be able to take care of it, Buck seems to just instinctively know that Eddie needs something close for protection right now.
“Okay. That’s good. Now, I’m going to be right back,” he stresses, locking eyes with Eddie. And were Buck’s eyes that red rimmed and bloodshot before? “I’m just going to get some supplies from the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Two quick kisses are placed on his forehead, and then Buck is leaving the room, walking out the door and down the hallway.
The silence that follows in his wake is suffocating. Eddie stares at the wall, unseeing, until his eyes start to burn. He moves to rub his eyes only to pull back with a hiss when the wounds on his knuckles get reopened. Watches the blood well up in small bubbles that eventually drip along his skin to meet in the middle of his hand.
There’s quiet noise somewhere in the house that must be Buck doing…. whatever he’s doing. Eddie’s sure that Buck told him at some point, but he can’t really remember now. All he knows is that Buck said he was going to be back.
Right?
Right. Buck’s coming back. That’s a given. He wouldn’t leave Eddie alone. He just went somewhere else in the house where Eddie’s not for a reason that Eddie can’t remember. And that’s fine. It’s fine. Eddie’s a big boy. He’s perfectly capable of sitting here on his own for a few minutes.
Except-
Except he can hear that there’s someone in the house. Eddie can hear them rummaging around. Thinks he can hear their breathing if he listens closely enough over the thrumming of his own heart pounding in his ears. And Eddie doesn’t know where Buck is. Fuck, he doesn’t even know where Christopher is. What kind of father is he that he doesn’t know where his own son is, whether he’s hurt or scared or-
Maybe his parents were right. Maybe this time he really has drug Christopher down with him.
A shadow in the doorway pulls his attention, and before he even has time to really think about what he’s doing, Eddie’s making a mad grab for the bat again. The mingled sweat and blood on his fingers makes his grip slippery, too weak to get a good hold to defend himself from the intruder.
In his panic, he almost misses the careful fingers wrapping around his wrist, causing Eddie to snap his head up so quickly that something cracks sickeningly in his neck only to find Buck standing above him looking more terrified and concerned than Eddie’s ever seen him.
They stare at each other for a moment, eyes blown wide, breathing shaky and too loud as they both catalogue each other. Both coming up with wildly different results.
Buck’s the first to move, careful and slow, like he’s calculating every movement he’s about to make miles in advance. “Jesus, man,” he mutters, kneeling down in front of Eddie, placing the small trashcan from the bathroom beside his knee and a box of alcohol wipes and bandages on the bed beside Eddie’s hip. “It’s just me, Eds. Everything’s alright. You’re safe,” Buck promises, and the change in volume gives Eddie the impression that he wasn’t actually meant to hear that first part.
“Chri-” he’s cut off by a cough, throat feeling scrapped and raw, “Christopher?” His voice sounds hoarse, strained like he’s been screaming for a prolonged amount of time.
And maybe he has been. To be honest, Eddie doesn’t really remember much of the breakdown itself. There’s snippets here and there- the rattling bang of a car backfiring that set everything into motion, Christopher knocking on his bedroom door asking if he was ok, Buck coming into the room shortly after, taking a swing at Buck with the bat before realizing exactly who was in the room. Crying. He remembers a lot of crying. But not what he said, not what Buck said back. Nothing.
"Christopher's safe," Buck reassures him, opening the box of alcohol wipes and attempting to rip one open with his teeth. Once he gets it open, Buck takes Eddie's bloodied hand in his and begins to clean the wounds, stopping Eddie from jerking back at the first swipe with a firm anticipatory grip. "He's with Bobby."
"Bobby?" Eddie questions, not having expected that particular answer.
"Yeah." Buck throws away the used wipe and sets to work opening another. "After Chris called me, I called Bobby. He agreed to meet me here and take Chris for the night," Buck elaborates. With the blood completely wiped away, Buck gets to work rubbing antibacterial cream on Eddie’s knuckles and wrapping them in gauze. He looks up at Eddie. "I- uh," he laughs awkwardly, "I think I might've called him Dad? When he picked up the phone. I don't know, I was kind of panicking."
Eddie snorts at that, a wet, ugly sound. "I'm sure he loved it if you did," Eddie assures him. And he's rewarded with a shy smile.
Really it makes sense that Buck called Bobby. Just like it makes sense for Chris to have called Buck. Both of them were scared and worried and panicked so they called their dads. The thought causes Eddie's breath to hitch in his throat. Because Eddie wants to be the dad that gets called in the middle of the night for help, not the dad who gets called about.
A pitiful whine breaks past his lips without his permission and he pitches himself forward, knocking his forehead against Buck's. It rattles him a little, makes the headache that's lodge behind his eyes pulse white and he expects Buck to pull away from the force of it. Instead, Buck pushes closer. Let's their foreheads rest together as they breathe each other's air.
"Buck. I don't know what to do," Eddie hiccups. Sobs are building up in his chest again, gut-wrenching and painful, and if he weren't so exhausted and devastated down to his very bones, Eddie thinks he would be marveling at his body’s ability to still produce tears. Can’t believe there’s enough water left in his body.
Buck makes a wounded sound in response, crawling in closer between Eddie's knees until there's no space left between them. "I know," Buck soothes, freeing his hands from the death grip Eddie’s caught him in to cup his cheeks and brush the tears away with his thumbs. There are tears shining in Buck's eyes again too, making the blue shimmer brightly as he blinks desperately to keep them at bay. "But we're gonna figure it out. We'll come up with a plan and take everything one step at a time, okay. Minute by minute."
The easy way Buck includes himself, places himself in these plans without question, without needing to be asked, is why Eddie loves him. Why Eddie clings to him, believes him, trusts him when he can't even trust himself. When Eddie would be pushing anyone else away.
Buck says we, and Eddie says, "Together."
"Yes," Buck vows, giving Eddie a gentle shake. "I've got your back, man. Always."
And maybe it's not what Eddie had in mind all those years ago when he first made that promise to Buck, but Eddie's starting to think that maybe that's okay. Maybe, somehow, this is better.
Taking a steadying breath, Eddie asks, "So, what do we do first?"
"First, we get out of these clothes. Put on something more comfortable we can lie down in."
The idea of lying down- of falling asleep in particular- does not appeal to Eddie at all. Nightmares are the only thing he has to look forward to when he closes his eyes these days, but he goes through the motions with Buck. Does his best to force his shaky limbs to cooperate with him enough to help Buck get him changed into a soft t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. Does his best to push down the shame and embarrassment that rears its head at having his best friend dress him like he's a toddler.
Because he knows that if their situations were reversed Eddie wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for Buck in a heartbeat. Hell, he practically already has, helping Buck after his leg surgery with showering, redressing his stitches, even finding the strength to get out of bed. Gave Buck his own son in the process to do it. This is just something they do for each other. No judgement. No resentment. Only love.
Once Eddie's changed into fresh clothes, he sits on the bed and waits for Buck to join him, watching as he quickly swaps into a pair of Eddie's sweats and an old LAFD shirt before climbing onto the bed behind him.
They slot together easily, like the final two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place as Buck wraps an arm around Eddie's waist, the other resting beneath Eddie's head as a makeshift pillow.
It's almost perfect.
Almost.
Then Buck slides his hand from Eddie's hip up underneath the hem of his shirt, let's it glide over Eddie's stomach and come to rest right over Eddie's heart, fingers splayed. And it's not just almost anymore, it is. It's exactly what Eddie needs: warmth and comfort and skin-on-skin.
They don't pull the blankets up, to which Eddie is immensely grateful. He doesn't think he could handle the added weight right now. Or the feeling of confinement for that matter. No, he's good just like this.
"Tomorrow," Buck begins, squeezing Eddie closer in an attempt to soften the blow, "tomorrow we're gonna get you in for an emergency session with Frank." Eddie makes a distressed sound at that, and Buck holds him through it. It's not like he didn't see this coming. It's just that.... well, he wants things to be better now, not weeks from now after he’s let some stranger poke around in his head. "I know it sucks and it's going to take some time, but it will get better, Eddie. We'll make sure of it. And, in the meantime, just know that you're safe. You're safe and Christopher is safe."
"What about you?" Eddie whispers, threading his fingers together with Buck's through the thin material of his shirt. He doesn't want to ask- is scared of what the answer might be- but he needs to know. Has to know if what Buck’s witnessed tonight has changed anything for the worse between them. Maybe now that Buck's seen him like this he won’t be able to trust Eddie in the same ways as before.
"I'm safe too," Buck confirms, dashing all of Eddie's fears with the ghost of the smile being pressed into the back of his neck. "I'm always safe with you."
"Okay," Eddie rasps, and he parts his knees enough to allow Buck's leg to slip between his own.
Tomorrow's going to suck. It's going to be painful and uncomfortable and awkward as all fuck, but Eddie can't really bring himself to care in this moment. Because Buck's here, and he's holding Eddie like he doesn't mind and telling him how they're going to pick up Christopher tomorrow and have a lazy day watching movies together on the couch and eating junk food until they all pop.
He listens to Buck talk like he's being told a bedtime story. Focuses on the sensations around him- Buck's breath on his neck, his hand beneath his own, pulse tapping steadily in his wrist under Eddie’s thumb, the ticking of the clock on the nightstand. Let's it remind him that he's not lying in sand, riddled with bullets. Not lying on the asphalt reaching for something that he's never going to touch.
He's in his own bed with Buck. By some miracle they've managed to find each other again, crossed the distance between them caused by all the broken and shattered pieces of Eddie's life that crumbled to dust between them. But that's okay because Eddie's going to rebuild it, step by step, moment by moment.
And maybe, Eddie thinks as he starts to drift off, maybe he can build it into something better than it was before.