your honor the truth is i like to get a little sillay
i love love <333
baby, you're the end of june
rachel. 23.
sideblogs: @zukkababey & @bvckandeddie
try-set-me-on-fire
try-set-me-on-fire
Writing ER nurse Eddie is just like (grabbing him and shaking him) I’m going to make you so miserable, little man
“Can Buck come over tomorrow?” Christopher is half asleep, still in Eddie’s arms because he’s having trouble letting go. He found a scented candle somewhere that he didn’t even know he owned, it’s burning on the coffee table next to them to try banish the phantom stench of salt water.
He’d been too far away from Eddie, the night had been too dark to see the blue of his eyes. “I don’t have his number, mijo. I don’t know him.”
Christopher frowns, buries himself deeper into Eddie. He’d crack his rib cage open for him, if he could. “But he’s my friend.”
“Sometimes friends…” Eddie stops and breathes for a moment because what the fuck does he even say. What parenting book covers this? Surviving a tsunami with a stranger that your dad occasionally watches die? “Sometimes you only know someone for a little while, and even if you never meet them again they can still change your life, make it better.” He kisses the top of Christopher’s head. “Whenever you think about him or remember the time you spent together that’s still friendship, it doesn’t just go away.”
Chris’ frown deepens, and his eyes get wide. “Is… Buck dead?”
“What?” Eddie sits up a little at the question, and he feels as cold as he did hours ago out in the dark doing the terrible work of triage. “Chris- why- No, he’s not. Why would you ask that?”
Eddie is wearing an ancient varsity baseball sweatshirt, the embroidered school acronym fraying after so many years of wear. Chris scratches gently at the edge of it. “You said if we keep thinking about mom we keep her with us. Even if she’s not here she loves us and we love her.”
“Stop-“ he doesn’t mean to say it out loud, he just- he shouldn’t use this metaphor today but Eddie feels like he’s drowning. He’s fucking this up, so badly, he’s fucking this up so badly, he doesn’t know what to do. “It’s not like that, he-“ he grabs Christopher’s face - gently, fuck, gently - and looks him in the eyes. "He’s not dead. It’s not like mom.” It’s not water, it’s hands squeezing his lungs, hands that feel like his parent’s hands. “It’s okay, he’s okay.” Dragging him down, dragging him down with you. “We’re alive, Carla is alive, Buck is alive. Nobody-“ so many people died, the ocean came and killed them. Shannon died, six months ago Shannon died, she’s been dead longer than the time they had together in LA. Evan Buckley isn’t dead, now, but he’s been in Eddie’s ER twice in a year, so he probably will be sooner or later. Eddie desperately wants a cigarette, a wartime habit he’s never indulged in stateside. “It’s alright.” You’re not supposed to lie to kids. “It’s alright, mijo, it’s okay.”