Archive of Our Own

2 weeks ago 

Frank’s office is cold. Even for Eddie, who runs chronically hot, the office is notably cold. It’s cold enough consistently enough that Eddie now always remembers to bring a sweatshirt. He brings one that is comfortably big — one that he could pull the sleeves of over his hands to toy with, or one with drawstrings that he could hold between his teeth, buying himself time before he has to answer a question he would rather not touch with a ten-foot pole.

He doesn’t feel the need to hide or stall so much anymore. He supposes most of that is Frank’s doing — his patience and strategic silences and his warm face that often holds a concerned expression but never a judgemental one. Frank, who always asks the right questions like he knows exactly what’s going on with Eddie in a way that feels too good to be true. 

Equally, though, Eddie talks. He’s gotten to this position by talking -– talking himself sick about losing Shannon, having his own heart ripped out of him when his parents tore Christopher from the house and then the state. He’s talked about Buck, the pit that lived deep within Eddie that resurfaced when Buck came out to him, and how nothing really felt the same after that. 

How nothing will ever be the same again. But now in a shiny, beautiful way because Buck is his and Eddie has names for all the things he felt on that day and on all the days in Texas where he felt like he fit wrong. He fit wrong in his own home, his own skin, in every room he entered with every group of people he stood between. 

He fits now. He knows he does. He fits with Buck and he fits with Christopher and he fits in LA where the sun is just as bright but never as unforgiving. He doesn’t need Frank to tell him this anymore. To tell him that what he feels about Buck doesn’t look complicated at all, but rather beautifully simple in the way everybody wants love to look for them. He doesn’t need Frank to tell him that his childhood left much to be desired – that he doesn’t have to answer his mother’s calls if it’s only going to upset him; he doesn’t always have to send her the updates on Christopher that she demands.  

But, nonetheless, he sits in Frank’s office adorned in a sweatshirt. It’s Buck’s. He knows it is, and he threw it into his bag this morning knowing that as well. It makes him feel better to have a reminder of Buck with him, it’s settling or safe or whatever word that Eddie can pretend he feels that really just boils down to him being stupidly in love or obsessed with the newness of calling Buck his. 

Because it is new. Not the love — that’s been there forever. But looking at it in the face and putting the name to it and confessing it to Buck over the hum of the fridge in Eddie’s kitchen after a twenty-four hour shift. That’s all new. Eddie was kissed up against that fridge ten seconds afterwards and now he swears the world is a tiny little bit brighter. 

This isn’t an emergency appointment, per se, just a change to their schedule. A couple of added sessions to work through the newest near-death experience that was added to Eddie’s roster. It wasn’t as difficult as Eddie feared, and the time he’s spent really talking to Frank – openly and without preamble – has revealed much more about himself than he could’ve hoped for. Or feared for, if Eddie wasn’t so ready for it, so willing for everything to make sense. 

“So,” Frank says with twenty minutes of their session left. “You’re doing a lot better then. Overall. Would you agree?”

“Yeah. I would,” Eddie says quietly, feeling weirdly awestruck. 

Maybe with himself, with the kind of progress he never expected to make. With the knowledge that he’s admitted feelings and thoughts that he could never have dreamed of confessing a year or so ago. With the knowledge that he’s worked through things that felt permanently tangled up, out of his grasp or impossible to talk about with any kind of clarity. 

“I’m happy for you, Eddie,” Frank goes on, a smile playing on his face. “It sounds like it went really well with Buck?”

Eddie tries to stamp down his lovestruck smile. “Really well,” he confirms. “Like as good as I could’ve imagined.”

Frank smiles back knowingly. He’s all too familiar with the ways in which Eddie jumped between being ready to talk to Buck, or panicking on this very couch, certain that he wouldn’t get his words out straight. “That’s great. And, Christopher,” he says, watching Eddie as he’s sure his face paints how fucking fond of his kid he is. “He took it all well?”

They had discussed how Buck and Eddie becoming something more than what they’ve always been would likely not confuse Christopher – who is scarily observant and of a generation that often doesn’t beat round the bush as much as Eddie does – but Eddie’s want for Christopher to feel like he’s included in every one of Eddie’s decisions is not a tendency he can shake, not after he fucked up so much. It’s important, he thinks, for it to be obvious to Christopher that he’s Eddie’s priority and comes above everything. 

“So well,” Eddie says, pushing his hands into his knees like he can reach under his skin to quell the nervous-excited-overwhelmed buzz that lives there. “He’s such a great kid. He’s so understanding. Wise beyond his years.”

“A testament to you, Eddie,” Frank says. 

Eddie smiles, feels his face flush. He’s got everything he could ever want. “I hope so.”

“It’s a big shift from where we started,” Frank tells him, another knowing smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, again. “It’s– I don’t know– it’s everything, I think. I couldn’t be happier.” 

“You deserve it. You’ve done a lot of work to get here.”

Eddie nods, catches himself blinking back tears. “Thank you.”

Frank looks down at his watch. “Go,” he instructs, looking at Eddie now like he’s ridiculously proud of him. “Go home early. Go be with your boys.”

So Eddie does. Of course he does. Buck’s waiting outside in the car like he so often is, sunglasses on and phone in his hand. He startles when Eddie appears, hopping into Buck’s passenger seat earlier than usual. Buck gives him a once over, eyes erratic like he’s checking for serious damage to Eddie that made him run out of his therapist’s office early.

“I’m okay, Buck,” Eddie says, and then Buck meets his eye. “It was a good session.”

A smile breaks across Buck’s face like Eddie’s just eradicated every worry from his head with five simple words. “Good,” he says, leaning over to press a kiss to Eddie’s temple. He starts the car and begins the familiar route home - their home, unofficially. 

“You’re not having second thoughts? There’s nothing you need to think about first?” he asks, nerves creeping needlessly into his tone. 

Eddie reaches over to settle Buck with a hand on his, resting over his thigh. “Never, Buck.”

Eddie watches LA roll past his window. It’s not all that pretty but Eddie likes it just enough anyway. 

Present day

Helena Diaz arrives in LA, uninvited. She packed a bag for herself and another bag for Ramon and dragged him to the airport under the flimsy guise of visiting his sister. 

They never make the visit to see Josephina, so Ramon was expectedly confused, but the years of missing visits made it easier to argue that she had decided that now was the time to start making up for it. 

Of course this was a lie. Helena had seen something she was not supposed to see. She’s pretty sure it was on Instagram, something that she saw flick by on Adriana’s phone as she glanced in its direction. It was a picture of her son, posted a couple of days after his birthday. A day in which Helena had merely a short phone call with Eddie, breezing past birthday wishes before Eddie hinted not so subtly about how busy he was and hung up. 

And clearly he was busy, if this photo was anything to go by. It was a picture of Christopher, Eddie and Buck — who Helena knows vaguely from watching him take up too much space in Eddie’s house, or from him visiting their home and standing sort of awkwardly after he and Eddie had spent days fighting wildfires in Texas. In this picture, Buck is standing next to Eddie, face twisted toward Eddie’s so his lips graze his cheek. The photo is candid, taken from a little way away but still captures Eddie’s giddy, unburdened smile and Christopher’s look of reluctant fondness as he sits beside them at what seems to be a birthday gathering in a yard she doesn’t recognise. 

Adriana scrolled past it quickly, like she could sense Helena’s watchful eye, but not quick enough that Helena couldn’t recall the look on Eddie’s face any time her mind wandered. 

She didn’t want to catch him out, exactly. Not envisioning catching Eddie red-handed or in the middle of a lie — even if she kind of thinks that he is lying to her, never calling with news of anything close to having a new partner or interest in gaining one that wasn’t a woman. She thinks she genuinely wants to give him a chance to tell her, to learn this new thing about her son under his terms because she can’t accept the idea that their relationship is frayed enough that he wouldn’t want to tell her. 

So, here she stands at Eddie’s house with two cars in its driveway, and a Ramon that does not demand an explanation as to why they’re there instead of at his sister’s because he knows Helena’s specific brand of messy confrontation. 

She knocks purposefully on Eddie’s door and waits a beat before it opens. It’s not Eddie who opens it, but rather Buck dressed in clothes that suggest he is extremely comfortable in a house that is not his. His face seems to drain of color when he realises who is standing on the doorstep and Helena remembers that last time she was here, she was taking Christopher away from a home that inexplicably had Buck in it. She can’t quite feel guilty about it, but it’s something in that realm.

“Hello,” Helena says, beating Buck to the punch.

“Uhh–” Buck stalls. “Hello.” 

He doesn’t move back from the door, shows no sign of letting her and Ramon in, so Helena raises her eyebrows expectedly at him. 

“Umm, one second,” he says and leans back to shout down the hallway. “Eddie!”

Her son appears with a smile on his face, maybe only because he doesn’t take his eyes off Buck to even consider who’s standing at his door at 6:30pm on a Saturday night. Helena swears she sees him start to snake an arm around Buck’s waist before he pulls it back at the sound of her voice. 

“Edmundo,” she says, forcing a semblance of genuine happiness into her voice. “Hi.”

“Mom,” Eddie replies, hesitant arch to his brow as if he’s trying not to look too confused or disappointed about his parents appearing at his doorstep. “What are you doing here?”

Helena tuts, edging toward being mad about still being left adrift on the wrong side of the door. “Visiting my son,” she says, like it’s obvious. 

“Right,” Eddie says, continuing to stand stock-still as though he is incapable of moving. Like he’s been frozen in place at the sight of a ghost or something equally as disturbing. 

“Well,” Buck says, rescuing the situation. “Come in, then.”

Helena gapes at Eddie for another second, in complete disbelief as to how he remains so unwelcoming, until she follows the way Buck’s outstretched arm leads into the house. 

“I’ll go and speak to Chris,” Buck says, voice low like it’s just for Eddie. He squeezes a hand against Eddie’s shoulder as he goes — a gesture that could pass as perfectly platonic, if not for the way Eddie’s face softens, the clench to his jaw momentarily disappearing. 

“Okay,” he agrees, watching as Buck wanders away to where Christopher’s bedroom is. 

“It’s great to see you,” Helena offers when it becomes obvious that Eddie isn’t going to say anything.

“Yeah, you too,” Eddie says like it’s anything but. His eyes are still trained to the last place Buck was visible in the room, and it feels as though Eddie’s mind is still entirely consumed by Buck, as if it’s powered by his presence like a ridiculous imitation of solar-power. 

Eddie shakes himself out, like he’s reached into a back-up power source and remembered how to have social interactions. “What are you guys really doing here?” he asks, not quite accusatory but riding the line. 

“We just wanted to see you. And Christopher, of course,” she tells him, hoping the lie doesn’t feel as obvious to him as it does to her. It sure tastes like a lie in her mouth, like something sour and wrong, but she can’t exactly stand here and be honest. 

“We’re visiting Pepa,” Ramon speaks up, finally, telling another version of the façade that neither of them probably believe but are clinging to like it’d hurt to not. 

Ramon is still in the dark about the complete truth of operation: LA, but he understands the inner workings of Helena’s mind better than anyone, and knows when she’s committed herself to something that would only frustrate her to have to explain out loud. 

“You’re visiting—” Eddie parrots back, eyes darting between them like he can’t believe a word they’re saying.

Helena remains silent, daring Eddie to question her. 

“Okay, sure,” he says, finally, giving up the impossible task of trying to translate the code that Helena talks in. He should’ve learnt a long time ago that it was a pointless task. 

They fall into an awkward silence after that, allowing for the exchange between Buck and Christopher to be heard faintly from his bedroom doorway. 

“I don’t know, buddy,” Buck is saying. “But, you’ll come out in a bit, right? When you’ve finished whatever you’re doing.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees, and Helena waits for Buck to push back on him, tell him to wrap things up quicker, come out of his room and be polite to guests. She can’t understand, in this moment, how Eddie allows for Buck to parent Christopher, let alone in such a subpar way. She looks over to him, waiting for his expression to morph away from something other than mere want for Buck to be back in the room, but his eyes remain downcast, like everything’s just a bit too much for him. 

Of course, Buck doesn’t challenge Christopher. He just raps his knuckles against the doorframe before reappearing back in the living room. 

He looks toward Eddie first, checking in like he might look and find danger. Like he might catch Eddie shattering into pieces in front of him. 

“Chris will be out soon,” he offers, hesitant like he’s not sure his input is welcome. “He’s just finishing something on his computer.”

“No worries,” Eddie says, breezy in a way that never came naturally to him. “I was thinking we could do dinner. Italian, maybe. The one we like, Buck. We haven’t been there in ages.” 

Helena catches Buck’s face flick through a complex series of emotions. “Eddie, are you sure?” he asks. 

Eddie side-glances at him, betrayed almost, if Helena had to place it. “Of course. It’s a special occasion now, isn’t it?”

“That’s great,” Ramon says, as uninterested as Helena always knows him to be. 

She thinks of the ways Eddie and Ramon are different – Ramon’s vague indifference towards the family he has supposedly travelled to see. It’s worlds away from Eddie’s panicked plan-making, desperate to please or to come off as though he has everything under control. 

It feels almost like they’re standing on opposite ends of a seesaw, like they have to be so different, they have to keep such distance, to keep wheels turning smoothly, to keep their balance. Where Eddie’s sweatshirt lays over the back of his couch, Ramon’s would be immediately placed back in the closet. Where Eddie has mail scattered across his coffee table, Ramon’s would sit in a tidy pile on the kitchen counter. They’re different — Eddie’s love comes messy and careless, handed over in abundance without thinking, sometimes. Ramon’s comes with conditions, passed down only when it’s been earned. Helena doesn’t understand how they can be so different. 

Christopher finally appears from his room, expertly manoeuvring around both her and Ramon to stand almost defensively next to his dad.  

“Christopher,” Helena says, sickly-sweet even to her own ears. “How’ve you been?”

He studies her for a second, examining for things Helena can’t begin to guess. “Good. Thank you,” he lands on.

Eddie’s face looks tight — like he’s waiting for something to happen; something to reveal itself that’s going to crumble the precarious calm that is draped across the house. Admittedly, the atmosphere is so fake-nice that it does feel awkward, but powering through is the way to make it real. Fake it till you make it, Helena thinks, if that can be applied to family relations. 

“Chris,” Buck interjects. “How do you feel about pizza tonight? The one from that place by the firehouse?”

Christopher smiles properly at Buck, and Helena looks between the three of them and can’t see anything but a family. She is sure she’s right about her son; right about him and Buck. 

“Out the door in 10,” Eddie adds, squeezing a hand to Chris’ shoulder. 

“Okay, dad,” Chris agrees, and leaves the living room with the same speed at which he entered it – like he’s escaping danger. 

He moves through the house like Eddie never did as a child. With freedom and an air of being unbothered, as he’s permitted to do pretty much as he pleases. It was different for Eddie, Helena recalls, as he had his younger sisters to help take care of. He was — she thinks rightfully —  expected to fill in some of the gaps that Ramon left when he took extra hours at work — making packed lunches, tidying toys away, checking over homework. Maybe Christopher should feel lucky that Eddie likely won’t have any more children. 

The Italian restaurant that Buck and Eddie chose is nice. It’s classy without feeling too uptight, like its calamari comes frozen but the pizza oven cranks out damn decent pizzas. 

They sit round a circular table and are approached by a polite yet slightly flustered server, wearing manners that Helena can only describe as being very LA. 

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” she’s asking, practiced smile playing on her face. 

“Eddie, wine?” Buck says, vaguely reading a wine list and barely looking up at Eddie when he speaks. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie replies. 

“House red. Bottle, please,” Buck says, smile that doesn’t seem polite but instead painfully genuine directed at the waitress. “You guys want in?” he asks, looking between Helena and Ramon. 

“Uh— sure, yeah,” Helena replies and Ramon grunts something that passes as approval as well. 

“Great,” Buck says. “Four glasses. And for you, sir?” he asks, this time turning his attention and wide grin to Christopher, poking him in the rib. 

Christopher, who is strategically planted in between Buck and Eddie, speaks up, “Diet coke, please.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back,” the waitress says before disappearing. 

It’s weird to watch Buck take such control of Eddie and Chris. It’s so effortless, like he’s always belonged between them. It should make Helena happy, for her son to have someone steady by his side, someone who clearly is so desperately willing to help out with Chris and doesn’t see it as anything close to a burden. It should be nice — that Eddie’s finally got something good after years of not having anything worth writing home about. 

Instead, it makes Helena’s hackles rise. It makes her feel unwelcome, to see Buck and Eddie sat bracketing Chris like they’re bodyguards, leaving no room for her in the exact space she used to fill so readily. She only has ever wanted to keep Chris safe, away from anything she can’t trust. And how the hell is she supposed to trust Buck – a guy she barely knows yet stalks around the inner workings of Eddie’s life like he’s always been there. Like he couldn’t be removed, even with force.

The waitress returns and they order in a blur. Helena catches Buck ordering for Eddie like it’s commonplace, like they come here all the time and Buck knows Eddie like the back of his hand. She tries to remind herself it’s sweet; that it likely makes Eddie happy to be known so well and that it’s not her place to interject and stop the whole thing before she can barely stand to look at it.

“So,” she starts when the waitress rushes off again, trying to demonstrate real interest and zero ulterior motives. “What’s going on in your life, Eddie? Catch us up.”

Eddie looks nervous and it's ridiculous. He’s always been easily spooked, easily swayed into the decision that’s least difficult. He looks at Buck briefly before sighing. 

“Well, you should probably know I’m off work at the moment.”

Helena reels back. “Why, honey? What’s wrong?”

“I got hurt. Uh— it wasn’t exactly routine. I got stabbed, basically. But I’m okay.”

“What on Earth, Eddie? You got stabbed and you didn’t think to tell us?”

Eddie grimaces, remains silent. Helena flicks her eyes over to Buck and the crease in his brows. He’s staring down at the table like he’s keeping himself in check. Helena can’t decide if he’s upset about what happened to Eddie or already agitated by her presence, by her outrage. The outrage that she’s barely tapped into.

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, like a reflex. “But I’m alright. I’m healing up real good.”

Buck lifts his eyeline at this and smiles tentatively at Eddie. 

“Well, we’re glad to hear that,” Ramon adds and Helena exhales sharply, a huff of incredulity. 

“It was at the hospital anyway,” Eddie adds. “Where I got stabbed. So…uh, close to help, you know?”

At Eddie’s side, Chris leans into his arm, smiling like Eddie’s stammering is endearing or any part of this story is a saving grace. 

“Right,” Helena says, stunned.

“Well the hospital chapel,” Eddie says and then he bites his bottom lip like he just knows that he shouldn’t have added that. 

“What?” Ramon demands, snapping as much as someone can when they’re dedicated to keeping their voice annoyingly even. 

“Eddie, are you serious?” Helena adds. 

“Unfortunately, yes. I’m serious.”

Helena breathes out shakily, drags her eyeline up to the ceiling in dizzying shock. She has to bite back doing something unhelpful like shooting a prayer up there. 

“Well, that’s such good going, Edmundo. God, I mean, that really can’t be something that bodes well for you.”

“I know,” Eddie says, dryly. “I know. But it’s fine now, alright?”

Helena looks back down at Buck and Eddie. Buck is terrifyingly expressive — Helena can practically see every thought he’s having. She can see the war he’s waging between speaking up and remaining silent. His face paints the perfect picture of confusion and disbelief. Eddie looks anything but confused, he looks guilty and knowing, like he was anticipating this very reaction. 

If Helena knew better maybe she would understand that her and Ramon are the only ones capable of putting this expression on Eddie’s face — that they reduce him to a version of himself who looks like a kid again, retreating into himself when he faces their criticism. 

The waitress shows back up, then, placing pizzas in front of each of them and promptly rushing away like she can sense the bad vibes from their table. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts saying. “You remember I won’t be home tomorrow afternoon?”

Eddie nods. “No problem. Chris and I will probably go to the Wilsons’.” 

Helena will bite, why not? “What do you have on tomorrow, Buck?”

Buck stops so suddenly it reminds Helena of Eddie on the doorstep hours earlier. He drops his hands to his lap and clears his throat. 

“I’m looking into fostering my friends’ son,” he says, speaking quietly like being too loud will make it real. “They were involved in an accident. He needs somewhere to go.” 

Helena is stunned back into silence. She thinks of there being another child sitting between Buck and Eddie, another thing that makes it impossible to look at them and not see a unit. 

“It’s really good what Buck’s doing for him,” Eddie insists when the silence gets awkward. His eyes look fiery, different to how Helena usually thinks of him.

“Of course it is,” she hastens to say. “It’s really nice.”

Buck nods once and refocuses on the table. Eddie reaches over and rakes his hand over the back of his head – another thoughtless gesture, comforting in a way that pushes at boundaries. 

It’s quiet after that, Helena only daring to ask Christopher about school after hitting two such serious topics like a double punch to the gut. Like any teenager, school is maybe the least exciting topic Chris could imagine but he answers Helena’s questions with as much enthusiasm as one could be expected to give algebra. 

“There are brownies at the house if you want to follow us back?” Buck says later, on the way back out to the parking lot. 

“Sure. Thank you,” Helena replies, splitting off from them to climb into the passenger seat of her and Ramon’s rental car.

They follow Buck’s truck back to South Bedford Street in a silence that feels weird. It’s like the universe knows that everything that’s been revealed tonight needs some time to settle around them, but Helena can’t help herself. She has to dishevel it. Like snow on a pavement that looks quite pretty until footsteps are traipsed through it. 

“They’re definitely sleeping together, at least, do you think?” 

“At least,” Ramon confirms. “I think that much is obvious.”

“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” she asks, thinking back on the evening, on Eddie’s relaxed face when Buck looked at him, and Buck’s easy confidence as he spoke for Eddie. It doesn’t quite make her squirm, but it’s close. 

“I think so, yes,” Ramon agrees. “We have to be okay with this, Helena.”

She stares out the window in thought. She feels an expected desperate desire not to lose her son from her life, not for this to be a breaking point. She thinks back on Eddie as a child, sweet and slightly shy, their only child for a while. She thinks about taking him out with her after he was born — shopping or for coffee, letting her friends take turns holding and marvelling at him. Even as he grew up, he still loved spending time with Helena and maybe she hadn’t treasured those moments enough. 

She’s going to be okay with it.

“I’m okay with it.”

Back at South Bedford Street, Buck carefully takes brownies from tupperware and places them on plates. Eddie brews tea, beckoning her and Ramon into the kitchen to pick between an array of colorful, patterned mugs. 

It’s nothing like homelife was when Eddie was little. Everything was utilitarian – served its purpose and no more. In hindsight, Eddie himself seems to have been the only thing that worked outside the realm of what he was absolutely expected to do. Helena would’ve never bought novelty mugs and that currently feels like a crime.

Buck and Eddie move around each other like they’re dancing – something that Eddie was once very skilled at. They look like they won’t tire of each other’s company, that they know they won’t bump into each other and silently wish the other one would give them a little damn space. Helena almost wants to look away, like it’s too intimate for outsider eyes. 

“Tea,” Eddie says, placing the mugs of chamomile tea down in front of them on the kitchen island. He doesn’t linger close, he instead stands against the counter with Buck — who hands Eddie a brownie like he’s literally handing over a portion of his own heart. 

They’re annoyingly good and Buck blushes as Eddie tells him so. Chris eats one too, sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the island, close to his dad. They talk back and forth in whispers, and Helena catches parts of it; Chris teasing his dad about the movie choice he made last night. Helena and Ramon might as well not be there; intruders in what is obviously an unbreakable family, a tight-knit bond. She’s never seen Eddie’s face like that — radiating such unadulterated happiness, such unmistakable love. It’s a straightforward kind of thing, the affection that blooms between them. 

“We should really go back to Pepa’s,” Helena says after their mugs are drained. 

“Okay,” Eddie acknowledges, turned away at the sink. 

Helena watches as he washes a plate and Buck grabs it from his hand before it even hits the drying rack. 

“Do you want to come to church with us tomorrow?” 

It’s out there before she can think twice about it. Eddie flicks his head round to her so quickly it looks like it almost gave him whiplash. His eyes are wide, like he’s in that moment before his brain catches up to what’s just happened. Like the moment before you scream out in pain when you register you’ve just stepped on a lego brick or slammed your toe into the leg of a table. 

Buck freezes too, the plate almost slipping out of his hand. Helena thinks distantly that they won’t make a very good couple if they both freeze. Someone ought to fight, someone ought to flee at the very least. 

“I’m good, actually,” Eddie says, a touch choked. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“Alright. Maybe we’ll pop round at some point.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, mind likely miles away.

They’re out the door after that, leaving Eddie behind to detonate the bomb she has just dropped, disguised as a good-natured offer that she secretly knew would throw Eddie off his game. It isn’t fair – she plainly remembers the day Eddie told her and Ramon he didn’t think that he liked the church, and despite it breaking her heart a bit, she grit her teeth and let him sleep in next Sunday morning. 

It’s tumultuous, she can guess, for someone who has experienced so much loss, someone who sees such tragedy everyday. It can’t be easy for someone who seems to have evolved, a part of himself changing in ways that they never could have discussed at home in a place like Texas. 

Helena worried for Eddie when he was a kid, when he stared up at her and said he didn’t think he believed in God. And now, she’s worried again — worried that Eddie has something else in his life to put all his faith in. 

Eddie lays in bed beside Buck, thinking about his childhood. He can’t fucking help it — the surprise appearance from his parents threatening to shatter the calm that’s settled over Eddie since he began the arduous yet rewarding task of figuring himself out. He’s felt closer to light, closer to happiness since he walked down the path he always told himself was off limits, too treacherous of a journey. Things had started to make sense and now the screws on the track are loose again, threatening to derail all of Eddie’s progress. They’ve shaken up his mind, spun round repeatedly and then shoved onto a tightrope, forced to walk straight or have everything burn.

They have no idea about him and Buck, about the buzzing that stopped under his skin once he realised how he felt about him. Buck is revelatory — the way he feels underneath Eddie makes everything make the most sense. He makes Eddie feel like he’s floating, like he’s understanding everything that was previously out of reach; the very essence of himself, the point of existing at all. 

His parents wouldn’t be able to marry the version of Eddie in El Paso to the Eddie they were met with today, the version of himself that Eddie likes. The one that stands shirtless with Buck in the kitchen, deliberately knocking their hips together just to feel the burn of Buck against him. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that watches as Buck pulls freshly-baked cranberry muffins from the oven, dusting them with powdered sugar. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that secretly likes getting his greedy hand swatted away because God forbid Buck can’t take a picture of everything he bakes.  

They wouldn’t know the Eddie that calls Karen almost every other evening. The Eddie that specifically schedules nights solely for gossiping. The Eddie that encourages his son to play far too many video games with Denny, just so he, Hen and Karen can bitch until his sides hurt from laughing. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that gets accused over still pining for someone he’s in a relationship with. 

They wouldn’t know the Eddie that tends to his backyard. The Eddie that’s determined to turn his black thumb green if it’s the last thing he does. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that optionally wakes up early. The Eddie that willingly rises before seven just so he can look at Buck, soft and warm and somehow all Eddie’s. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that traces a pointer finger over Buck’s skin, gentle like the morning always seems to call for. They wouldn’t know the Eddie that likes the birds outside his window. The Eddie that actively seeks out the noise; the proof he’s awake. Because Eddie’s never upset to wake up— not anymore. 

They know the Eddie that liked ballroom dancing until he didn’t. Until he looked at someone wrong, he can only assume, and it became only about winning. It was no longer about socialising, no longer about Eddie being allowed a space to make friends. He was too friendly with the girls, suspiciously unfriendly with the boys and it made his parents feel however they felt. It wasn’t fun anymore, and Eddie didn’t want to keep inching himself further away from fun.

He’s good at that now— clinging. Clinging to what is fun. Buck, namely. Or Christopher and a shitty movie and the years that he remains in this home, content enough to still spend time with Eddie. He’s a good kid though, and these years aren’t as rapidly dwindling as Eddie fears. He’s good at clinging to the good, pushing past the feeling that he isn’t supposed to be this happy. Because he wants it so, so bad.

He tosses and turns, jostling Buck in the process. He feels guilty, an emotion he’s always worn like a favorite jacket. It doesn’t fit so well these days, or so he was hoping.

“Eddie,” Buck says, voice laced with sleep. Deep and croaky in the way Eddie usually loves but could bring himself to hate if it means he’s keeping Buck up. 

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“No,” Buck chides. “What’s going on? Your parents?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “I guess so.” He pauses, looks at Buck’s face in the moonlight. “They don’t know me, Buck, and I don’t want to be the version of me that they know. Not anymore. Not even just when they’re here.”

“I get it,” Buck says. “You don’t have to be. If they don’t like it, if they don’t like you, we’ll make them leave, okay? I’ve got your back.”

Eddie appreciates Buck immeasurably, of course he does. He appreciates him talking around everything in the distinct way that Eddie favors. His words carry a lot of weight — it referring to their relationship, Eddie’s sexuality, his method of parenting, the unspoken insistence that he won’t just do whatever they ask of him anymore. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “I think I just need to sleep.”

“Okay, come here,” Buck says, giving Eddie no option but to be dragged to lay against his chest. He places a kiss against the crown of Eddie’s head, lingering there and breathing deep like he’s savouring something. Eddie would hate to think that Buck fears this isn’t forever. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” Eddie tells him. Because he is. He has to be. He’s done the work, hasn’t he? He has everything he wants — there can’t possibly be anything more that Eddie could need. He’s not sure he could work through anything more. 

Sundays usually consist of the farmer’s market — chasing down the ripest fruit, the most overpriced coffee or freshly-squeezed juice. Since Theo, however, there are special arrangements for Buck to see him on Sundays, since their schedules are so full and Buck has the ability to charm people into anything he wants. He uses it sparingly, these days just for social workers to work him into their days off. 

So now on Sunday mornings, Eddie forgoes his ice cold drink and juice from a peach dripping from his chin, to watch Buck pace. Not his nervous pace, thankfully — his organised pacing reserved for times where he’s getting his thoughts in order. 

He leaves the house with kisses messily pressed to Eddie’s cheek and the top of Christopher’s head, bag full of things he thinks will win Theo over. They’re getting on really well, Eddie can tell, and Buck’s freaking out is largely unfounded and never lasts when he gets back home.

Eddie rounds Christopher up and drives them both to the Wilson house. Chris quickly disappears into Denny’s room, and Eddie sits at their kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea. They have to switch out their preferred wine for tea in these early hours, but Eddie gets just as buzzed on their company as he would on any kind of alcohol. He feels pseudo-drunk just talking about Buck, giddy and giggly like a teenager with a first crush. 

He tells them about his parents, and they nod and offer advice that could only come from Hen and Karen – unforgiving and impossible for Eddie to implement but a stark display of their loyalty to him. They ask how Buck is handling it all, and Eddie sings his praises, as always – he checked in with Eddie again amidst his morning pacing and Eddie kissed him to shut him up, deciding Theo was much more pressing of an issue than his parents’ nonsense. Hen and Karen offer great advice for Eddie to support Buck with the fostering process as well, and he feels so grateful to be somewhere that both he and Chris are comfortable in.

He reluctantly decides to become a functioning member of society again just after lunch, dragging himself away from the Wilson kitchen table, and calling to Christopher that it’s time to go home. Buck should be back soon, anyway, and Eddie wants to be there to hear every word about Theo. Chris dutifully comes out of Denny’s room, both Denny and Mara following behind him. 

“We gotta go, bud. You ready?”

“Yep,” Chris confirms, smiling like he’s done something he shouldn’t have.

Eddie tilts his head at him. “What have you done? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Mara painted my nails,” he says, lifting his hand up for Eddie to inspect.

Eddie looks over at the purple that is painted over Christopher’s finger nails, glittering a bit as it catches in the light. “Hmm, very pretty.”

Chris beams and says his goodbyes before he and Eddie make their way home – following familiar streets back to South Bedford. He chatters in the car about Mara and Denny, about whatever it is they get up to when they’re all together. It blurs in Eddie’s mind, simmering down only to the reminder that Chris is happy. Chris is so loved and secure and would never imagine that any part of his behaviour would make Eddie revoke any love from him. He looks over at Chris and once again catches sight of his nails, of the bright yellow case that protects his phone and thinks about how ridiculously disapproving his parents would’ve been if Eddie had favored something bright, something that drew attention to him and was not conducive to him keeping his head down. 

There’s a car in Eddie’s drive when he pulls up and his parents stand leaning against it. He sighs, secretly wishing they’d leave him alone and wallowing over the fact Buck isn’t home instead, practically vibrating with excitement as he always is when he gets to hang out with Theo and get closer to finalising the fostering agreement. 

“Hello,” he greets, only mustering up half as much enthusiasm as he might have wished for. 

“Eddie,” his mother says, rushed like there’s an emergency. “Where have you been?”

“At Hen and Karen’s. I did mention it at dinner.”

Helena looks back at Ramon who remains expectedly silent. “We’ve been waiting for you. I thought we would spend some time together.”

Eddie grumbles internally. Aren’t they supposed to be visiting Pepa? Why can’t they leave him alone for a day?

“Well, maybe call me next time. We have a lot on,” he tells her, firm yet kind enough that he doesn’t immediately want to snatch it out of the air and shove it back into his mouth. 

“No problem. You’re here now.”

Eddie hates how she brushes off her own mistakes. Eddie is expected to be perfect yet Helena is afforded the luxury of guessing. She’s allowed to complain and demand apologies. Eddie has to know what’s going on, all the time. He isn’t allowed to complain and he catches himself with an apology on his tongue more times than necessary. 

She starts talking to Christopher, asking after his day and humming at his stories like she has any idea who Denny and Mara are. Eddie unlocks his front door, his dad hot on his heels mumbling something about the grass on Eddie’s lawn. 

Eddie offers them drinks, standing around the island in Eddie’s kitchen again. Chris dips into the living room – playing an episode of whatever it is he is currently obsessed with on the television. 

“The service was nice,” his mother offers unprompted. “The priest is very good.”

Eddie hums, sips his iced tea. “Yeah. I went once. I liked him, too.”

“You went?” his mother asks, eyebrows touching her hairline. 

“With abuela. Still didn’t like it so much.”

“Edmundo,” Helena implores, and Eddie can’t tell if it’s exasperated or excited. “You should give it another go! You could’ve come with us.”

He knows, he thinks privately. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the offer to come with them since they made it last night.

“I don’t think I’ll be going back, mom,” Eddie tells her gently, not giving into the urge to apologise for it. 

“Oh, Eddie. Why not?”

He considers her for a second, the worry in her face as if Eddie’s making a grave mistake by not ever attending church again. Her face looks like it’s trying so hard to be soft, like she wants to be kind but it’s clouded by her complete disbelief. Eddie knows her too well; knows the fact that her annoyance at not getting her own way oftentimes overrides anything else. 

He looks at his dad, the way he stands with his posture perfectly proper like he’s giving way too much energy into pretending. Pretending to be upstanding, pretending he might jump in and contribute something meaningful to a conversation. Eddie knows his dad would never figure out what to say – he barely knows Eddie, barely knows how to parent. 

“Don’t really feel anything. Like, God’s presence.” He shrugs. “Abuela told me I should focus on the places I do feel it.”

Helena’s brows knit together like she’s never heard anything so confusing. “Where could possibly be better than church to feel God’s presence?”

Eddie exhales, clenches his jaw against the irritation that simmers in his veins. “God is love, right mom?” He pauses to let Helena nod. “And I’ve never felt particularly loved in church. That’s all it is.”

His mom reels back. Even his dad reacts, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reaction that crosses his face, landing somewhere between shock and disgust. Helena looks as though she’s going to argue, even though they’ve had this conversation before — Eddie didn’t want to go to church anymore, so he wouldn’t have to. Maybe the conviction that he never felt anything, any of the kind of love he’s supposed to, troubles her, even if she should’ve guessed that a long time ago. 

But, the front door swings open, saving Eddie from hearing another word. Buck comes bounding in, quintessential excitement radiating off of him as if he didn’t even notice the extra car in the driveway. Eddie, like now, is sometimes sure that bad energy hangs over him like a storm cloud. He’s learnt over time that most of that is in his head, a feeling that only exists within Eddie’s own spiralling. The judgement that feels palpable coming from his parents couldn’t permeate through to Buck — he’s too good to see any of that. 

Buck’s never looked at Eddie in any kind of way that Eddie thinks he deserves. Never thought of Eddie as being destined for something ruinous, something that looks like a house going up in flames. He looks at Eddie like he doesn’t know that Eddie’s mind often betrays him, makes him believe that there’s something horrendously wrong with him, something that would keep him from reaching pure joy. 

“Hey,” Buck greets, placing a hand on Eddie’s bicep in replacement of a kiss. It’s a silent thing that passes between them — that Eddie hasn’t told his parents anything and needs more time to work up to it.

“How was Theo?” Eddie asks, feeling a genuine smile on his face, finally.

Buck’s face lights up. “Oh, my God, Eddie, he was perfect. They said he’s really doing well and making great progress. He sat still long enough for us to draw a picture together, and we talked about sharks.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common,” Eddie jokes, unable to not match the enthusiasm that comes off Buck in waves. 

He knocks himself against Eddie in retaliation, laughing like he’s still riding the high of being able to see Theo. 

“How’re things here? Chris is locked in on that television.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Buck’s attempt to talk like Christopher has taught him. “All good. Mom and dad were just telling me about church. It sounds nice.”

Buck narrows his eyes almost unnoticeably, looking at Eddie like he doesn’t believe him. Like he knows there’s something untold, something more to say. 

“That’s great,” he says, enthusiasm completely drained from his voice.

“I was thinking, actually Eddie,” Helena starts, ignoring Buck. “About what you told us last night. What happened to you.”

Eddie nods as if on auto-pilot. 

“I really think it’s something you should talk about. It can’t just be a coincidence. You need to listen when things like this happen.” Helena gestures toward him as though the whole of him is a problem. “You should go back to church and hope to God that he can stop these kinds of things happening to you.”

Eddie can sense Buck behind him, his restless energy that fights the urge to jump to Eddie’s rescue. Eddie’s blood rushes so loudly in his ears he feels dizzy, like he’s fighting for his life — something he’s far too familiar with. They flash through his mind, unwelcome and terrifying, and he thinks ridiculously yet truthfully, that he never wanted to talk to God at these times. He never envisioned asking God to let him live, promising that if he made it through, he would devote himself, he would repent. He only ever wanted to talk to Buck; to make it back for Christopher. 

“Eddie talks to a therapist.” 

Buck’s voice cuts through the room like he does – only serious when it matters, endlessly kind until you cross him. 

“That’s not a substitute for church, Buck,” Helena says, missing polite by a mile. 

“Mom, please,” Eddie interjects. “I can make my own decisions. I’m a grown adult. I know what’s best for me.”

She looks like she’s just been told the worst news imaginable — looks more upset than she did when Eddie told her that he had gotten Shannon pregnant. She usually wears sadness like it’s a weakness, and she would always smile through it when Eddie was younger. Now, she looks like she’s defeated, too genuinely upset to do anything about it. 

It makes him think of the church in El Paso, how he, Sophia and Adriana would be herded in whilst his mother wore the fakest smile on her face, coming down from a blazing row with Ramon. It makes him think of the way he felt his own face hold a grimace, packed together like sardines in a pew in already blinding heat. Sweat would bead on the back of his neck, and he always felt watched – a disapproving presence boring into him. He thinks of his polished, leather shoes that always got scuffed by the gravel in the parking lot, making him a lost cause before he even had the opportunity to try. He thinks of the dress shirt that was always too tight, he thinks of the stained-glass windows. He remembers being told they were beautiful, but Eddie always thought they looked broken, smashed up into pieces. 

“We’ll get out your hair then,” Helena says, standing up on shaky legs. 

Eddie barely acknowledges her before she’s already beelining for the front door, Ramon trailing behind her. Neither she or his dad pause to speak to Christopher which is a testament to how much Eddie has upset them. The front door slams closed behind them like a warning, and Eddie is left, once again, wondering what he’s being warned against. 

The rest of the day passes as time does, moving Eddie along even if he feels unable to unstick himself from the spot. They eat dinner, something that Buck can prepare even when distracted, focus drawn onto Eddie and the faraway expression he’s sure he’s wearing. His mind is miles away, drawn mostly to the moment that his abuela told him it was okay to look for God’s presence in other places. Her permission – in any case – felt far more meaningful; her approval always far more rewarding than either of his parents’. 

When evening hits, he heads outside. He sits on his patio, with the firepit lit in front of him, flames dancing in his vision. The fresh air is calming and grounds him as it nips at his bare skin. Buck appears, tentatively, like he’s not sure if he’d be welcome. He still has no idea that his presence is never unwelcome to Eddie. 

He has two beer bottles between his fingers, caps already screwed off, and he offers one to Eddie with a tiny smile that makes Eddie’s heart hurt. 

“You okay?” he asks as he takes the chair next to Eddie. He scoots it closer, grimacing at the noise it makes as it drags along the ground.

“Yeah,” Eddie says on an exhale. “I’m alright.” He trails his foot along Buck’s shin, desperate for contact, to reassure both him and Buck in equal measure.

Buck sighs and takes a swig from his bottle. Eddie watches him swallow. 

“Tell me if I’m overstepping,” Buck starts.

“You never overstep,” Eddie cuts in.

“Okay, that’s kind of you to say,” Buck says, bashful like he sometimes can’t help but be, but he quickly sobers back into seriousness. “Do you want to talk about your childhood, Eddie? I feel like I know you inside and out, but I don’t really know anything about that.”

Eddie flounders. The instinct to shut down runs deep within him and he can’t quite shake it off. But Buck looks at him so openly, so sincerely, with real concern all over his face, and Eddie really wants to talk to him. He really does want to tell Buck what he wants to hear and unburden himself of the weight of carrying everything alone. 

He looks out at the yard, at the way it’s lightly distorted by smoke from the firepit. He wants to open up his soul and bare it to Buck; longs for them both to see everything clearly. 

“I have a strange relationship with religion,” Eddie starts. “You know this,” he adds, waving a hand around in the air, not quite in dismissal but with the desire to move on quickly. 

Buck hums, signalling him to continue. 

“A lot of that stems from when I was younger. Going to church every week, doing bible studies on top of that, listening to my parents talk about it at home. It was just a lot.”

He blows air out of his nose and Buck remains silent. He stares Eddie down with that same concern that makes Eddie’s throat feel tight. 

“I think I always knew I was different. Something was wrong with me.” 

Buck makes a move to jump in, likely to tell Eddie nothing could ever be wrong with him, but Eddie puts a hand up, stopping him in his tracks. He needs to talk about this in his own way – in the way it makes sense to him. 

“I used to listen to spiel after spiel about temptation and resisting. Keeping yourself from getting into a position that you would give in to temptation. It felt like the priest was talking to me, specifically. Telling me that everything I thought and felt was something to be pushed down. Like I could never act upon it or I would be upsetting God.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes, and Eddie realises Buck’s reaching for him. He lets him take his hand and it almost makes him cry on the spot, even though he thought he was feeling mostly fine, mostly able to talk about this. 

“It never went away,” he continues. “It became such guilt, instead. I was annoyed at myself every time I couldn’t push it all the way down. I felt guilty that I couldn’t love Shannon how I so desperately wanted to. I felt guilty when I heard my mom talking to other women at church. Not about me, but about boys who weren’t as cowardly as me. I felt even more guilty when I realised I had to marry Shannon. My parents started talking about a wedding as soon as I told them about the pregnancy. I was so fucking stupid, Buck, I didn’t even realise that I didn’t have a choice.”

He might be crying now, but it’s not important. 

“I used to pray to be normal. To not feel like this. To be able to devote myself to Shannon. I thought it worked. I thought I killed that part of me. I thought I made it go quiet, pushed it down far enough. ”

“Eddie,” Buck says, again, and he’s probably crying too. “Can you come here?”

Eddie does. He’s pulled into Buck’s arms, held tighter than he has ever been before. He breathes Buck in, revels in what’s become so familiar, so safe to him. He feels Buck clawing at his back, pulling him closer even when there’s simply no space between them. Eddie’s own tears dry in time; the closeness of Buck always having near-healing abilities. 

“Tell me the rest tomorrow,” Buck whispers into his hair. 

Eddie pulls away. He looks Buck in the eye and shakes his head. “It’s okay. There’s nothing more to tell. I’ve learnt where salvation is.”

Eddie slumps back in his chair and thinks about the places he feels like he can attain salvation; where he feels like he’s being rescued from the devastation in the world. Eddie holds a lot of beliefs. He puts faith in a lot of things, feels the presence of something powerful and beyond him every time he catches the curve of Buck’s grin against his own mouth, every time Christopher communicates something he never would’ve told Eddie before they vowed not to let their relationship crumble again, every time he spots Chris’ glasses laying crooked on his face and is able to reach out and straighten them. 

If Eddie can achieve salvation through belief, he thinks he’s got that down. He believed in Buck almost as soon as he met him, believed that he deserved to be let into Eddie’s family, that he was worthy of a house key and his very own section of Eddie’s heart. He believes in Buck when he tightens Eddie’s harness before a rope rescue, blind faith in the fact that Buck has his back, will keep him safe and bring him home dry. 

These are the beliefs Eddie has hinged his whole life on, and these are the ones that he will hold on to, that will keep him going. 

“Yeah?” Buck says, hesitant hope in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms. “But you know what the worst part is?”

Buck shakes his head, arches a brow at Eddie. 

“I think I still believe. I look at you and I think you were made for me. I look at a flower blooming between sidewalk slabs and I think it can’t exist by chance. Even when I think about the time you drove us to sit and watch the sunset, and it was so unbelievably beautiful and I think even then, the thought that something that beautiful must have been created—  it made me stop myself kissing you. I wanted you so damn bad, and you are so much fucking prettier than the sunset could ever be, but I can’t shake my beliefs. Even now. Even if I’ve gotten over that.” Eddie gestures to Buck, then points at his own chest. “I still feel it. Even though I know it causes people so much pain— it’s caused me so much hurt and confusion and I can’t make sense of most of it. I know you think I’m silly for not believing in signs, but I think I believe in much more irrational things than you.” 

Buck reaches over for Eddie again, holding his hand like it’s keeping him tethered to the ground. “You don’t have to understand it, Eddie. It’s not evil to believe in something bigger than yourself, or something you don’t fully understand. You can’t punish yourself for it though, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie echoes, smiling at Buck’s intensity; how serious he can be when he wants to get through to Eddie. “I’m coming to understand that.”

“Good,” Buck says and he finally takes another sip from his beer. Eddie copies him and lets the liquid cool his throat, letting it soothe the tightness in his chest, dislodging anything that remained ugly and panicked until he truly feels fine. He feels like he’s done something long overdue by talking to Buck.  

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, hopeful that how endlessly thankful he is for him comes through. How impossible he still finds Buck’s existence and loyalty to him. 

“I love you, too,” Buck says back immediately. Easy like it should be. 

Eddie’s parents leave him alone for a few days. They’re blissful ones, even when Buck is at work and Eddie aches to be alongside him. He spends time with Christopher, driving him back and forth to his friends’ houses and slouching on the couch together, indulging in the fact neither of them have anything better to do. 

The peace can’t last though, Eddie knows this well enough. It’s always going to be interrupted slightly – such is life. 

His mother knocks on his door, alone, maybe a week after she had last stormed out of it. It’s early afternoon – Buck at work and Chris recently dropped off at a friend’s house. 

He lets her in, because he’ll never stand strong enough to completely shut her out. She steps through his house, back to the kitchen where this whole entire mess has unfolded. 

“Eddie. I’m not here to apologise.” 

Eddie almost laughs out of sheer shock. Shock that’s misplaced, maybe, because she’s always been direct and never been the type to apologise, but hearing it out loud is still crazy enough. 

“Right.”

“I understand that you can do whatever you want,” she starts, offering Eddie unnecessary approval. “I have to ask you, though. You and Buck— you’re together?” 

Eddie sighs, long-suffering. “Yes.” 

“And that’s a lot of change, no? Is that not the type of thing you would want some kind of guidance on. I mean, how does Christopher deal with that kind of thing?”

Eddie scoffs before he can think better of it. “I have plenty of guidance. I understand myself far better now than I did when you were parading us into church to be lectured at.” He shakes his head, disbelief raking through his body. “Christopher is fine, as I’m sure you’ve seen this week.”

Helena’s mouth falls open but Eddie won’t let her get a word in.

“You know what he said to me when I came out to him,” he continues. “He told me he was happy for me. He said that me pretending to be fine wasn’t helpful for him.” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the memory, at Chris’ delivery and the distinct way that he puts Eddie at ease. “He could tell I was living only halfway, mom. That I was trying to be something I wasn’t. He helped me realise that it doesn’t matter if I deserve things, but I can have them if I want them.” 

Eddie hopes that does the trick. That it drills into his mother’s mind that Eddie has found whatever he needs outside of the four walls of a church. It’s maybe too much to expect of her; to be capable of seeing his side of things— ever. 

“He’s a great kid, Eddie, and you’re lucky he’s so supportive of you. But there are things in your life that you can’t get through just with kind words.” She narrows her eyes at him like she’s about to prepare her last-ditch attempt to get through to him. “You can’t seriously think that you were stabbed in a chapel and it doesn’t mean anything? God sends these kinds of signs, Edmundo, to help you when you’re being led astray. You really must be stupid not to listen to it.”

Eddie grips the side of his kitchen counter tighter, expels all his frustration there. “You understand none of that makes sense? How can you sit there and tell me that God wants me to come back to him so he gets me stabbed? That’s awful and— and illogical, and you know it. It’s like when I was a child…” Eddie pauses to breathe, collecting his thoughts. “When I was a child, the more I heard in church the less I understood. About being punished in order to remain more faithful. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to understand it, Edmundo, it’s just how he works,” Helena tells him like she’s imparting great wisdom, something indubitable and proven. 

“I don’t think I can accept that, mom. I’m not turning my back on it all, I’m just saying I feel the signs of him in different places. From the gut feelings he gives me that I know I can trust. Like the feeling I got when Christopher first met Buck and I just knew that they were supposed to meet. Like when I brought Buck back from the dead and I knew that he wasn’t just my best friend, he was— he’s a part of my own being.” 

Helena sighs, maybe finally coming to terms with the fact Eddie won’t back down, won’t give in to her way of seeing things. 

“Okay,” she tells him, like it causes her physical pain. “We won’t see eye to eye. It’s okay.” She sounds like she’s telling herself more than telling Eddie. “Your father and I are going home tomorrow, just so you know, so we won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Eddie sighs. “You’re not a bother, mom. We just have to accept that there’s differences in how we see things.”

She rounds the kitchen island to place a hand to Eddie’s cheek. It’s cold despite the LA summer. “It’s okay, really.”

She leaves with another uncomfortable half-smile, the chill leaving Eddie’s face as soon as she steps through the door. He breathes deeply, weirdly content with the way things were left – with the courage he had in his own convictions, never withdrawing under her stern gaze. He’s stopped watching the same movie and expecting a different ending, instead he’s switched the channel over entirely, removing himself from the same sad, sorry conclusion. 

Later that evening, Buck will get home and Eddie will kiss him soundly and he will feel closer to something sacred and divine than he ever has before. He will recall the way he felt stepping into a church in El Paso and he will know that holiness exists much more potently in the space between Buck’s knee and his own as they cramp together in the back of the fire engine, grinning secretly to each other. He will know that the space between Chris’ curls and Buck’s matching ones as they lean together to read something on Buck’s phone, holds more of God’s presence than any altar in any church. 

Because looking at the two of them, and how Eddie slots perfectly between them, it’s hard not to believe that this was all meant to be.