Archive of Our Own ^beta

Let it be known that Eddie Diaz was not a hateful man. Only a little maybe. He was raising a kind son in a loving household so there was no room for hate in his life. 

Except for when he rolled his eyes at his best friend’s girlfriend. Surely that was still allowed right? What if he happened to feel stronger negative emotions about said girlfriend than an eyeroll could express? What would be his options for keeping his cool in front of his best friend? 

1. Periodically go into the garden and let out a terrifying scream. Which would terrify the neighbors. So no.

2. Join an underground fighting club. He’s already been there, done that. Another no.

3. Complain to his social circle. Who all know Buck and would snitch on him. No again.

4. Complain to someone mute. That could work.

This is how we found Eddie digging through the depths of his closet for Tia Pepa’s last Christmas gift. She had befriended the owner of a little fair trade store and vowed to do her Christmas shopping there, which is how Eddie ended up with fancy coffee beans he never allowed himself to repurchase and a little black notebook for “keeping track of what matters.” He was still unsure whether this had been a dig at his organisation skills (which were perfectly fine, thank you Pepa) or a creative writing exercise she could somehow spin into another blind date. But what mattered right now was telling someone how much he disliked Buck’s girlfriend, so he freed the matching pen from its loop and started complaining.

I hate Taylor Kelly.

Wow, he really had been itching to say this. 

I HATE Taylor Kelly.

Maybe this would feel similar to going out to scream in his garden.

I HATE TAYLOR KELLY!!!

It didn’t fully have the same effect, but he already felt a little lighter. But then he remembered her stupid red hair and how Buck looked at her and the rage started building again, so he picked up the pen and continued:

That spineless little ferret does NOT deserve Buck at all. She should be ashamed she’s wasting his time. I want her to feel burned by his goodness, like an angel touching a demon has physical consequences so should this. They’re both close enough respectively. She even has the demonic red hair. I want her out of our life. I want Buck’s soul cleansed from her touch. They need to break up because I want her GONE. 

And that was the simple truth of it. 

I WANT TAYLOR KELLY AND BUCK TO BREAK UP !!!

By then the agitation had ceased and his head felt clearer than it had in a while. He realized his life would be better if Buck were single again, but since that was out of his control he’d have to work through the intense aversion he harbored differently. The notebook became his emotional crutch and would prove itself useful after every encounter with the demon. Sometimes all it took for him to seek refuge in it was for Buck to mention her off-handedly—as if Buck could ever care about someone he loved so little to not immediately talk in circles about them. It should not take them much longer to break up then. Eddie could see the foundation shaking and his journal entries got shorter and more succinct as a response. 

Buck feels insecure and I hate her for that. BREAK UP!!!

The shorter rants provided him with less relief, but he was a responsible adult with a demanding job and a child who deserved his undivided attention, so he had to figure out how to balance those necessities of life with his passionate hatred. He was a little proud of himself for finding a coping mechanism that worked well compared to his past attempts and miraculously before he had filled the whole book, Taylor and Buck were broken up already. A win for Eddie.

The notebook collected dust for a while, not needed for further emotional regulation since Eddie had Buck’s full attention back on him. 

That was, of course, until another girlfriend rolled around. The uneasy pit in his stomach at Buck’s insistence that Natalia understood him like no one else did grew with every further mention of her name. Conversing through gritted teeth did not seem to do his friendship with Buck any favors, so in order to outwardly appear as the well-adjusted adult he hoped to be, he returned to journaling.

Natalia does not know Buck. She is a stranger and a stranger she shall remain! Her and her hocus pocus need to vanish. She is just another leech on Buck’s energy. She doesn’t even care for his life, only for his death. She must’ve been raised by wolves to consider all this normal social interactions. I need her to go back to them and leave us alone again!!

Once his initial frustration was recorded on paper, he took a deep breath and closed the notebook. He suspected the annoyance would resurface soon enough though and decided to place the book in his workbag for easy access in the near future. Buck and him mostly saw each other at work anyways those days—another thing to be upset with Natalia for. 

I want Natalia to stop monopolizing Buck’s time. I want her out of the picture. I want them to break up. 

A few entries later Eddie came to the conclusion that the shorter the sentences the better he felt after writing them, like a quick curse in the hallway rather than an elaborate analysis of his feelings. His original first choice had been screaming in the garden for a reason and not talk therapy. 

Natalia be gone!! BREAK UP!!!

As Eddie already knew, the break up was what was best for Buck, and what was best for Buck was always best for Eddie too. Their regular hangouts resumed and he proved himself as the superior Buck understander once again. Peace was restored and the notebook wandered into the closet for the time being.

He briefly considered tearing his parents apart in the book when they arrived without warning to take Christopher away from him, but every time he picked up the pen his thoughts circled back to his own failures and he felt worse than before. Instead, he opted for therapy this time and through many a zoom session he was able to regain his son’s trust—enough of it at least to fly him back home to Los Angeles.

From thereon, he was more open with Christopher about his feelings and shortcomings, promising to treat him less like a child needing to be protected and more like a teenager with a growing understanding of the world. He decided the notebook would rot in his closet and he would trade gossip with Chris instead. That way he could offer him more vulnerability and teach him about healthy relationships between adults. (Not that he was an authority on the topic. Nor that he wished Buck another mismatch of a girlfriend. But his intention was pure and his brain was affected enough by growing up unloved that this still seemed perfectly plausible to him.)

—

Eddie cautiously brings it up first during one of their newly instituted post-dinner dessert debriefs. The kitchen smells faintly like rosemary and the success of his homecooked meal emboldens him.

“So.” He clears his throat to direct Christopher’s attention from his chocolate pudding to himself. “Now that you’ve met Tommy, what is your professional opinion on him as a ruthless teenager?”

“Erm, I don’t know what you want me to say dad,” he says, shifting in his seat and returning to the pudding.

“I want full honesty from you. Either we see him the same way or you can convince me to like him better, so there’s no way for you to say something wrong.”

“Like him better? Aren’t you friends?”

“We were.” He takes a deep breath in, grimacing. “As of right now I’m feeling more negative emotions towards him.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous of him,” Chris teases him with a wide grin.

“No! I…Listen. You have to go first so I can receive your unbiased report and then I’ll update you on what I’ve been a witness to these past months.”

Chris folds his hands in response and brings them to the table, leaning forward conspiratorially. “First of all, I think he’s ugly. He looks old. Not old factually but old derogatorily. Like he’s spent all his allotted years already and is only staying alive by the grace of some witches’ curse.”

Eddie chokes on air at that. He knows Chris is smart but he did not expect that to translate into colorful insults. Though, maybe they aren’t insults but instead accurate descriptions. He certainly doesn’t object to any statement so far.

“And Buck’s obviously our handsome Prince Charming in the fairytale I’m spinning,” Chris continues. Eddie still doesn’t object. “He deserves to be with someone equally as beautiful and not a corpse crawling out of the sewer. He could’ve ruled his kingdom peacefully with Princess Taylor or Queen Natalia at his side.” Eddie scoffs loudly at that but Chris carries on unperturbed. “Beast Tommy though? The people would take to the streets with their pitchforks and lose all trust in his decision-making. Furthermore—” The English teacher in Texas must’ve left quite an impression on his son, Eddie muses. “Buck would be a just ruler. You know how important it is to him that we leave the world a kinder place than we found it in. Well…a little birdy told me that Tommy does not care for that. Instead, he would be playing Game of Thrones with Buck’s court until they all conformed to his standards.” 

“Wait, are you implying he’s not happy with the 118 being close to Buck?” 

Chris sighs. “I see this allegory has become too difficult for you to follow…I’m saying his standards would be white.”

“Who told you this? You think Tommy is racist?”

“A professional gossip does not reveal his sources, lest they stop trusting him. But you would trust these sources too so believe me when I say: yes.”

At this Eddie has to stand up and walk a quick lap around the living room. When he returns to his chair with his thoughts a little more in order, he assures Chris he believes him. “Buck isn’t aware of this fact, is he?” 

Now it’s Chris’ turn to scoff. “Of course he isn’t. He would have broken up with Tommy immediately if he knew what I know.” 

“Okay, yeah, sure. How come he doesn’t know but you do?”

“Sources of my sources have expressed the intention to let him make his own choices with his own knowledge. We’re guessing it’s because it’s Buck’s first queer relationship and they don’t want to interfere with his self-discovery journey.”

“But when does this journey end? Let’s say Buck and Tommy get married—” Eddie nearly gags on that thought. 

Chris interrupts him vehemently. “Do not speak that into existence.”

“—would we tell him then?”

“That’s adult stuff to figure out Dad, I’m just the messenger here.” 

“Got it. You’re right, I shouldn’t involve you in everything, but I still value your opinion. I won’t always take your advice but I’ll always want to hear from you.”

“Best I can do is tell you once again to not speak their wedding into existence. Because the universe listens.” Eddie rolls his eyes good-naturedly at that. He didn’t know his son to be a believer of the supernatural, but he might have to relearn quite a few things about him. “And if you treat them like a serious couple that will just validate them. We do not want that.” That’s actually a sound logic Eddie can follow. He probably hasn’t treated Tommy that seriously yet, so he’s in the clear for his comment about the wedding hopefully. 

“Are there any other rules to the universe that I need to know?” He asks Chris in jest. “I don’t want to risk anything furthering their relationship and it accidentally being my fault!” 

“Have you ever heard of Google? Type ‘manifesting’ into the search bar and let the internet help you. I have more homework to do.” And with that typical last blow of teenage sass Chris leaves Eddie alone at the table. 

Speaking it into existence was such a peculiar phrase to Eddie’s ears that he still finds himself pondering it. Is it akin to praying? Could you pray something into existence? Was speaking to God and speaking to the universe the same thing? Did it even require speaking at all? Most prayers are silent…Would silently speaking to the universe therefore result in the same outcomes as saying something out loud to Chris? He really needs to get into the rules of this before he wakes up tomorrow with Buck and Tommy engaged. Not that he’s thinking about them getting engaged. Not at all. In fact, he wishes they’d break up. Right this moment. 

Maybe if he thinks about it hard and long enough…Or maybe if he writes it down! Like all the other times he longed for Buck’s relationships to end and repeatedly committed to paper his increasing desire in the simple bid of ‘BREAK UP!!!’

Eddie stands up and grabs his laptop from the coffee table. As much as he wants to demonstrate his openness to Chris by bringing his daily activities to the living room, this is a matter best researched in the privacy of his bedroom. Armed with the command to consult Google and a slight spark of curiosity regarding the mysterious workings of the universe, Eddie plops the laptop down onto the bed, fishes for Pepa’s notebook in his nightstand and positions himself against the headboard.

Not even thirty minutes later he decides to end his escapade into the eccentricities of manifestation—detailed mostly on blogs by jewel-clad white women that know more about waffling than writing and even less how to answer his questions—but he did prescind a few key points that matched his personal experience so far, and figures that going along with them for a while will just count as testing a scientific hypothesis. Plus, he'll have something to gossip with Chris about, and maybe this way he’ll gather more inside information and can then tackle the issue like an actual adult. The best case scenario (of Tommy and Buck breaking up soon) could use every bit of help anyway, and if freeing his best friend from the paws of a rotten individual means joining the ranks of wannabe online hippies and practicing the bizarre, so be it. 

Los Angeles is a city where dreams could come true after all. And he hasn’t been asked to sacrifice a bunny yet or gather a virgin’s period blood for a full moon ritual. Thus, he contemplates his three main takeaways and resolves to follow through on them. 

1. Become unapologetic about what you want (their breakup)

2. Pray to let go and trust the universe (God)

3. Cultivate the feeling you want (choose joy)

 Unfortunately, this already proves itself difficult at work the next day. Buck comes barging in with a bright smile on his face, and while normally Eddie would delight in his friend’s happiness, he cannot bring himself to today, knowing who he had a date with the night before. With all the groans and aches of an old man getting out of bed (like Tommy this morning, for sure), Eddie moves to sit on the couch. He is not above souring the mood for everyone else if it includes Buck coming down from his cloud nine, but before he can ponder the ethical and moral intricacies of that impulse, Hen already greets Buck loudly at the staircase. “What’s got you smiling this big, Buckaroo?” Oh, here we go.

“Tommy took me out for dinner for our anniversary yesterday," Buck all but beams. Eddie has to avert his eyes. He knows for a fact it’s physically impossible for Tommy to make Buck this happy—instead it’s all Buck’s own deep longings for a fulfilled life that let him create this version of reality where he’s skipping to work wagging his tail because his boyfriend treats him well. Because he doesn’t. And one anniversary dinner doesn’t negate the day-to-day facts of Tommy dismissing Buck over and over again, not taking him seriously as his own person, but rather parading him around as an accessory. In Eddie’s amateur opinion, the rose-coloured glasses that enabled this dynamic should have come off by now, but he suspects that Buck’s fear of growing old and lonely is making him shackle himself to the closest thing resembling a stable future he can find, as if the 118 would ever let Buck feel lonely. But Eddie knows too well that some childhood anxieties are carved too deep into your bones to ever release voluntarily, so he returns to his objective of helping Buck free himself—by manifesting, apparently. Talking about how he wishes they’d break up is definitely too insensitive for the current situation, though, and he can’t risk further suspicion by starting to pray now, which leaves him with option three from his deep dive. What could choosing joy look like in this moment?

“Earth to Mr. Diaz.” Chimney snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “What’s preoccupying your lovely mind this morning?” Great. Now he had zoned out during half the conversation. What a miserable picture of a supportive best friend he’s being.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, stretching his limbs and moving to get up from the couch again, as Buck is just about ready to plop himself down next to him.

“Yeah Eddie, what could be more important than hearing your best friend recount his anniversary date, hm?”

“Sorry,” Eddie repeats himself, “I was just,” he hems, his eyes frantically scanning the room for an excuse. “It was a long night.”

“For me too, buddy.” Oh. At least he’s found his saving grace.

“Let me get my coffee first, I’ll want to be alert to hear your stories from last night.” 

 All that should matter is that Buck is content, but Eddie cannot let it go. Even a flame as bright as Buck’s will extinguish once the oxygen runs out. And Eddie will not allow Tommy to be the reason for that.

He doesn’t want to think negatively about his best friend but he does have to wonder which inner mechanisms keep causing him to end up in clearly unfulfilling relationships. On his way to the kitchen he overhears Buck bringing up some royal wedding that happened over the weekend.

“Chim, I’m sure Maddie’s told you about it. She got married at the castle from Taylor Swift’s Blank Space music video!”

“Now that does sound familiar, but why does your algorithm show you wedding content?”

“I just saw one viral edit of it. Like, it looked more like a movie trailer than a wedding video, but it was so beautiful and romantic and then I watched all the brides videos, and did you know all her friends are influencers, too, so they posted…” Okay, so Buck is thinking about weddings—and how they are beautiful and romantic. And if Eddie knows anything about modern technology, it’s that it’s listening at all times, so surely from now on Buck will be fed more wedding content. He’ll probably be attacked with it hourly and associate it with his long-term relationship and—Okay. No more willing weddings into existence. Back to his coping strategies instead. 

He murmurs multiple choosing joys to himself like a mantra while pouring his coffee and decides to depart from his usual coffee order by adding in Buck’s specialty pumpkin something creamer. The sweeter the coffee, the sweeter his thoughts could become, and he’d be one step closer to the relaxed state of mind he’d be in if Tommy weren’t in the picture.

Once the cup is filled to the brim and will not accept a single drop more of sugary fluid, he sighs deeply to release his tension and focuses on the sensation of caffeinated glucose hitting his tongue. His dopamine receptors respond immediately and Eddie even finds himself smiling involuntarily. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he last indulged in a drink for the sake of enjoyment, but the lengthy fasting surely contributed to the heightened sensory experience he was currently very glad for. Careful not to spill anything of his newly discovered bliss in liquid form, he steps back towards the couch, the topic of conversation still seeming to be about that random wedding.

“Buck, are you sure this couple married for love?” Hen hands Chim a phone with a song playing he can’t quite recognize.

A little indignant, Buck retorts, “What else would people marry for?”

The coffee in Eddie’s throat is the only thing keeping him from startling out a laugh. He can think of quite a few other reasons actually, like duty and taxes, but of course his tender-hearted best friend would rather believe in the fairytale romances he grew up reading with Maddie. Perhaps seeing her finally find her own Prince Charming had spurred him on to secure such a happy ending for himself. Maybe Eddie should further discuss this with Chris—he certainly seemed to be well-versed in the fairytale metaphor, and does know Buck as well as Eddie does. Before he gets reprimanded for staring off into space again, Eddie turns his attention back to the by now slightly offended Buck.

“A lavender marriage you say?" His voice hitches at the end.

“Trust your gay elders on this, Buck,” Hen says. “We can spot a gay man from a mile away, and this surely has to be one.” Eddie catches Hen throwing a mischievous glance sideways.

“Otherwise I’ll eat a broom," Chim chimes up, nodding assertively.

Dumbfounded, Buck grabs his phone back and starts furiously scrolling. “You guys don’t understand, they were introduced to each other by their mutual friend, hit it off immediately, and have planned this perfect wedding for ages. Jaz even hired an Etsy witch to ensure the weather would be perfect, and they didn’t spare a single expense because they’re soulmates and wanted to show that to the world.”

Eddie spots that Buck’s shoulders slumped a little while searching for some evidence that apparently eludes him, and can already hear Hen starting to gather the breaths necessary to interrupt Buck’s spiraling with some speech about the legalization of gay marriage being turned over soon, so instead he makes his way over to rescue his best friend from himself and sits down next to him, their knees touching as always. “Come on, Buck. Enough about some stranger’s wedding when we haven’t even heard you talk about your anniversary dinner yet.” He bumps Buck’s shoulder to encourage him to talk but is so graciously saved from his best friend duties by the bell ringing and everyone springing into action. 

Still in good spirits, Eddie silently blesses Tommy for organizing the dinner on an evening before work and therefore sparing him the naughty—or well, nauseating—details he would otherwise no doubt be hearing over a few beers. With a day as busy as this one though, all that Buck manages to squeeze in between calls is a few minor details—details that nevertheless make his skin crawl, making him crave another sip of his peacebringing morning coffee like an addict on the hunt for his next hit.

He starts to feel a little crazed seven hours and twelve tidbits in, legs growing more restless with every passing call. Once he’s home he desperately needs to figure out more coping mechanisms, some that maybe don’t involve sugar and can be implemented at work because there’s only so many times he can ‘work off his pent up energy’ in the gym before the nosy brigade starts speculating something’s going on again, or Buck starts suggesting to help him again. Yeah, Buck just break up with your stupid boyfriend that would be of enormous help, thank you. Then, he could stop worrying about his best friend expending all his love and energy on someone that absorbs it all greedily like a black hole instead of reciprocating any of it. Maybe Buck would even comply with his wish. He’s more than proven he’d do anything for Eddie. But Eddie could never utter such a selfish statement. Despite his brain knowing that he’s wishing for their separation for Buck’s benefit, his heart has an inkling anyway that Eddie’s own desires are far too intertwined with the realities this change would manifest. So back to manifesting it is. Enduring the current shift and then running home to his notebook, where he can take matters into his own hands and hopefully release both Buck and himself from the burden that Tommy’s continued presence is bearing on their minds.

By the time he’s back in his car on the way home, he had gotten a full account of the events that transpired the evening before and was spared no detail. He should’ve known better than to bless that man for anything, so Eddie’s silently vowing to compensate for that in some form. He has yet to understand the inherent rules to manifesting, but a little wishful thinking shouldn’t hurt anybody right? (Well, he hoped it would, but that was beside the point.)

Before he can dwell further on specific damnations to explore, Eddie already recognizes the grocery store he meant to stop by to replenish his embarrassingly empty fridge, and pulls into the parking lot, sighing deeply. Operation Ex-Hex needs to wait, and it maybe needs a different name too. But it’ll have to do as a working title while he’s busy grocery shopping, planning next week’s meals and catching up with Chris and—Chris probably has a quippy name already on the tip of his tongue. But that would require confessing the extent of his current mania to his son, who also has quite the tongue for contemptuous remarks, which he doesn’t really want to subject himself to at the moment. Eddie decides to first shoulder the household chores, and then devote himself to his notebook and let his son in on it all as a last resort. Or maybe he’ll prioritize the notebook, actually, considering he’s been holding his feelings in for a full 24 hour shift by now, and cannot hover around the house raging.

 I hate Tommy Kinard. What the fuck is his fucking problem? Can’t even treat his boyfriend right on their ANNIVERSARY DINNER. What is he even in the relationship for. 

An unwelcome shiver runs down Eddie’s spine at that. He should not be following that train of thought further if he wants to profit off this journal session. 

Isn’t the point of a relationship to be together? Why is it always “Tommy this” and “Tommy that” out of Buck’s mouth? What about his own desires? What about the dessert he wants to order? The movies he wants to watch? I’ve never even heard them compromise it’s just always: where there’s Tommy’s will there’s also Tommy’s way. I’m sick of Buck being sidelined in his own relationship. And dismissed! Why was I being told all the details about this extraordinary Airbnb shaped like a spaceship that sounded suspiciously like a romantic getaway he would’ve planned for them if Tommy had shown a singular bit of interest in it. Good riddance though. The less time they spend together the better for Buck. He might act all happy go lucky about achieving this traditional relationship milestone, but he cannot fool me. The light behind his eyes is dimmed after every date. The pep in his step is diminished whenever his boyfriend is brought up, like it takes a tremendous amount of energy to keep the relationship alive and there’s less left to pour into himself. I wish I could feel more rage towards Tommy for being such an inconsiderate asshole, but instead I am just always reminded of how empty he actually makes Buck. All my ire is tinged with sadness. Because actually how come they have been dating for 182 cursed days and Tommy still chose to gift Buck basketball tickets??? Has he ever even asked Buck a question? Has he ever listened to a word Buck said? Probably only if either of those included the profanity “Tommy.” The fact they’re still together is only owed to Buck constantly shrinking himself in favour of Tommy, regularly ignoring his own pyramid of needs, letting the pressure to be married before 40 eat him alive. 

And once again Eddie’s thoughts have ventured into dangerous territory. Maybe free-form journaling has served its purpose—admittedly well, but these drastic times are calling for more drastic measures, measures that don’t have him spiraling about eventual weddings. Since he is explicitly trying to prevent them. So—Back to the drawing board it is.

The notebook wanders back into the closet and Eddie’s back on his bed with his laptop, search engine open anew, slowly typing ‘manifestation methods’ into the bar. Hitting enter. Immediately closing his eyes and sighing deeply, because he can’t quite believe this is what all his years of catholic upbringing have led him to. But ruminating on the past is useless for now, as he has a certain future to prevent. 

He weighs the merits between the methods involving repeating affirmations he discovered, thinking they would make for a seamless transition from journaling and provide him with the necessary clarity to manifest. The 55x5 method is only five days long, which is objectively better than nine days for the 369 one, but it does require substantially more handwriting and he is not willing to experience his hand cramping for this cause. Yet. So, between five and nine days and 162 and 275 written affirmations, the 369 method prevails. He hopes his sanity will last him long enough to complete the mission. 

Before he can get cold feet, he closes the laptop and exchanges it again for his little black notebook from the closet, opening the last used page. The dirty name jumps out at him. Jesus Christ, if he wasn’t even getting rid of that man in his own thoughts, how would he banish him from Buck’s life then? Another thing on the page calls his attention though, and it’s the blank space on the bottom right. Just enough for a quick little curse he had promised himself earlier.

I hope Tommy balds soon. He should have no hair left by next year. Tommy will go bald this month. Tommy will be bald shortly. Tommy will get hit by a truck. Or a meteor. Life is beautiful. 

Eddie turns the page over and is greeted with a bare canvas awaiting his strokes. Strokes of rage and magic and love and friendship. Three affirmations. That’s all he’ll have to distill his feelings into. That’s manageable.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Buck and Tommy break up soon.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Tommy will be gone pronto.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

Buck will be sincerely happy.

He can keep this up for nine days. Easily. Greater sacrifices have for sure been made before by other people for their friends. A little consistent writing should not be that big of a challenge—except it is. With their work days spanning 24 hours, Eddie will have to bring his notebook with him to the fire station starting tomorrow, and his team colleagues are all known to be a tiny bit too involved in each other’s personal affairs. But that will be a problem for later he supposes, since first there is still the usual housework to take care of and Chris to update on the appalling date Buck went on.

Fortunately for Eddie, Chris only teases him a little about manifesting ‘old school, with pen and paper, or are you using ink and quill?’ and provides him with the excellent suggestion to just ‘pretend to take a long shit’ at work for his new daily ritual.

“I wonder how you come up with that excuse so quickly Chris.” He eyes his son half in jest and half in consternation.

“Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Teenagers have phone bans to circumvent and you have a relationship to break up. What sounds more immoral to you here, Dad?” And with that truth bomb Chris once again leaves him at the table, pondering his life choices a little. He concludes that he’d break quite a few moral codes if it meant Buck would be happy. The ends justify the means after all. And it’s not like he’s doing anything reprehensible; he hasn’t lied to either party, he hasn’t shot Tommy dead, like truly he was doing fine on the ethics right now.

And he is doing fine on the manifesting of it all, too. So fine actually. Day 2 of 9 he successfully uses Chris’ excuse for going to the bathroom. Days 3 to 6 he is off work and doesn’t have to worry about hiding anything. Five minutes of quiet time are easy to come by in a household of two, even when they’re out and about with Buck for a good majority of it. Buck’s regular presence in his life poses a problem, though, when he notices the irregularity in Eddie’s bowels movement on Day 8. And he was so close to a smooth fulfillment already.

“Eddie, you can’t be shitting for that long again. I’m sending you to a doctor!” Buck raps on the door.

“Don’t worry Buck, it’s just that…" he stammers, trying to convincingly groan out his coverup he worked out with Chris, “I’ve eaten so much fiber recently, my stomach’s not used to it yet!”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Diaz. I saw with my own two eyes your diet hasn’t changed. You’re not about to develop colon cancer on my watch!”

Fuck, he sounds too concerned for Eddie to brush it off. “For your ease of mind, you can perform a full physical check-up on me in a minute, just let me finish my business first.”

“I’m timing you.” Of course he is.

Eddie sighs. “How about you get the clipboard instead?”

“I’m doing both!” This has Eddie scribbling his affirmations down in probably the most illegible handwriting imaginable, something doctors couldn’t even compete with. He knows better than to leave a worried Buck with a clipboard waiting, and as far as he knows the universe doesn’t have eyes to decipher his scrawl anyway, so he should be good on that front. Written is written. Manifested is manifested.

Or so he thought. “Should I have been more specific in my affirmations? I don’t understand why they’re still together. I put all my willpower into those words, as the white women said I should,” he complains to Chris a week later.

“Well, you should’ve known soon is the enemy of the state.” Chris regards him with a condescending look.

“Genuinely how? How was I supposed to know it means anything other than within a short period of time?”

“Because people use it however they want it to! Just like literally!”

“Well, I wanted soon to mean as soon as possible!”

“Then you should’ve specified that!”

“And you couldn’t have told me that before I spent nine days writing over a hundred affirmations?”

“I thought you knew! Buck talks about how he hates that word with a passion all the time!”

“Was that not a euphemism? I figured it was just a quirk like not saying quiet on shift.”

“And you’re supposed to be the grand Evan Buckley understander.” Chris shakes his head. “Just ask him if you don’t trust me on this.”

“I will!” Eddie whips out his phone. 

Eddie Diaz: What’s the significance of the word soon?

Buck (single soon): I’m glad that you asked

Buck (single soon): I’m going to shoot the next artist that teases something with soon

Buck (single soon): never in my life have I ever seen someone actually release an album soon

Buck (single soon): don’t even get me started on “we’re touring soon”

Buck (single soon): I’m looking at you the maine 😠

Buck (single soon): that word has lost all meaning to me

Buck (single soon): those bands can eat shit

Buck (single soon): I’ll trust only people with a concrete time frame from now on

Buck (single soon): been burned too many times

Eddie Diaz: Gotcha 👍

Buck (single tomorrow): happy to be of help <3

 “Turns out you were right, Chris. I should’ve known better.”

“That’s why we’re in this fight together. Can’t fully trust that dazed head of yours.” 

“So what are we going to do next then? I don’t want to idle my hands while I wait for soon to arrive. What are our other options?”

“Do you know there’s more to manifesting than just words?”

“What?”

“See, if all it took to speak something into existence were the speaking part, then we’d be living in a wholly different world. Every prayer would come true. That hasn’t happened to you though, right?”

“Uhm, no? I guess it hasn’t?”

“Look, remember all those times you nearly died—”

“I’d rather not.”

“—desperately praying to survive,” Chris continues unperturbed. “Those wishes alone didn’t magically save you. You had to accompany that with your own actions to give it strength.” That makes sense. Kind of. Not that almost dying is comparable to Buck dating Tommy, despite both being certified horrors. But Eddie’s other prayers certainly have gone unanswered his whole life, or he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. So.

“What are you suggesting then?”

“Do I have to spell everything out for you?” Chris huffs. “Actionable steps, Dad. Half the equation is manifesting, the other half is action. Capiche?”

“Since when have you become the local guru on manifesting?”

“We live in LA, Dad. Everybody but you knows about manifesting.” 

This leaves him once again with his laptop on his knees and a tab open with his trusted search machine. He lasts even shorter on those enigmatic websites this time, getting confused suddenly by talks of different laws and insistences on having lucky girl syndrome, which sounds more like a sickness than advice if you asked Eddie. But nobody asks him. He has to treat this like a perfunctory visit to the supermarket to stock up on toilet paper. In and out. No eye contact. Zero frivolous purchases. Self-checkout. 

He concludes he shouldn’t give up on his journal yet. It hasn’t failed him yet. It’s a household staple for a reason. Half the guidance can be reduced to writing anyway, and the other half is barely feasible with his fulltime jobs as firefighter and father. But thankfully he does unearth a few actionable steps he could take next.

 Eddie Diaz: Can you make me a playlist?

Chris Diaz: what for

Eddie Diaz: Manifesting the breakup.

Chris Diaz: sure

Eddie Diaz: And for cursing Tommy to bald.

Chris Diaz: gladly

Eddie Diaz: Thank you mijo.

Chris Diaz: sent a link https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4idmBde0POcaFRlqyXzfnJ?si=c2f9f1a0660f4ba3

Eddie Diaz: And what is etsy?

Chris Diaz: sent a link

Eddie Diaz: Sleep well 😴

 It’s days like these where Eddie is exceptionally grateful to the Apple ecosystem, helping him manoeuvre the link from his phone to his laptop without having to type it all out individually, or even worse, having to pull up a manual to figure it out. He’s a millennial, he should know these things. And now he does. 

He also knows that, according to Buck, some influencer wanted her wedding to have good weather, and paid someone on Etsy to arrange that for her. A witch. A witch on Etsy. An Etsy witch. Something he didn’t know existed for over thirty years and now can’t unknow ever again, since he is about to employ one himself. 

For a peaceful breakup spell. 

He decides he’ll pay extra to have it performed in twelve hours. Not paying for the fee of proof. He doesn’t exactly shit gold, and the witch said her spells perform better with full faith and without the intrusion of recording phones anyway. A witch after his own heart, truly. He adds the spell to the basket. He pays 55 American dollars, and lets out a high-pitched scream. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His phone blinks at him.

Chris Diaz: are you ok

Eddie Diaz: Yes

Eddie Diaz: I’m just going through something.

Chris Diaz: aren’t you always

 Time to take some deep breaths. Close his eyes. In for four seconds. Hold for seven. Out for eight. Repeat. And again. He can’t cancel this order. He can cancel this week’s take out order instead. Buck’s freedom takes priority right now. And his witch of confidence has a 4.9 rating out of 5.

 “Your what of what?” His son stares at him incredulously.

“Sorry.” Eddie blinks slowly, readjusting his eyes to the bright light of his room and to the unexpected presence. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I figured.” Chris crosses the last steps to Eddie’s bed and plants himself right next to him. “Don’t let me stop you from finishing that thought. Just this time, when you whisper to the darkness, you’ll have someone who responds right back. No more dealing with your crazy alone. You promised me that.”

“I did.” Eddie will never regret raising his son to be perceptive and caring and to have him back under his roof where he belongs by promising unflinching honesty, but that doesn’t make this next part any easier. He takes a deep breath. “I might have,” and another, “spentourpizzamoneyonawitchtobreakupBuckandTommy,” he rushes out. Eddie catches his breath back up to regular speed, supplying his brain with the appropriate amount of oxygen to keep having this mortifying conversation. 

Except. Chris giggles. His full body shakes with laughter. “Among all the actions you could’ve taken—” He gasps for air. “This is still harmless, Dad.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to stare at his son incredulously. “You can’t be serious. You can’t be okay with this. It’s our pizza money!”

“I will surely survive,” he hiccups, “foregoing one singular greasy takeout dinner if it means you get to live a little.”

“Live a little?” Eddie’s eyes are wide as saucers now, trying to take in and make sense of all the emotions they perceive on Chris’ face.

“I was in Texas, you know.”

Eddie’s heart pangs a little. “Of course I know.”

Chris gently places his hands on his dad’s knees. “I’ve lived with your parents. I know you weren’t allowed to be a teenage girl in love back there. I am allowing you to be that now.”

“Well, I’m not a teenager. I’m your dad.”

“I know. But I’m a teenager and your son. I know you and I know my peers. And I know you have things to catch up on.”

“Catch up on what exactly?” Eddie can’t quite follow his son’s train of thought.

“Living life.” But he trusts him. “Feeling the big emotions.” And feels privileged to be on the receiving end of his trust too. “Acting on them.”

So he tries: “Can I give you a hug?” 

Chris wraps his arms around his dad immediately. They stay like that for a while, slowly synchronizing their breaths, and despite Eddie’s lower back starting to hurt he can’t bring himself to disrupt this precious moment yet. He has longed for this open vulnerability with his son for so long, and fought hard for it, too, reconciling his rooted fears with his soaring desires, finally recognizing himself a full parent. Not a dad failing to provide his son with a mom anymore, struggling to fulfill every role at any time. He’s a parent now. To the most amazing kid in the world. A kid that’s telling him it’s okay to be more than just a parent. A kid that’s not moving an inch in this never-ending hug, despite surely feeling some significant discomfort by now.

“Like the hug rule at Disney.” It occurs to Eddie and he releases himself from Christopher’s grip to take his son’s face into his hand and smile at him. He can feel his body responding instantly and warmth floods from his cheeks right to his heart. “Live a little. How do I do that?”

Chris’ subsequent grin is blinding. “Well, first of all, you need to get us two cups of hot chocolate with so many marshmallows it’s barely drinkable.”

“We’re all out of hot chocolate, Chris, it’s summer and you’ve been gone!”

“Weak excuse.”

“But I can offer you chocolate chip cookies," Eddie says, opening up his bedside drawer.

“I cannot believe you have a hidden sweets stash in your bedroom.”

“It’s not hidden, this is my house!”

“I knew you had that teenager’s spirit in you,” Chris exclaims proudly between two bites, “which is why after you’ve finished your sweet treat you have to tell me the story about your witch of confidence from start to finish. No sparing the details. That’s how the sleepover gossip works.”

“You want to have a sleepover? It’s a schoolnight!”

“And who’s going to tell me no?” Chris looks around the room pointedly.

Eddie has already decided to give in to his every demand tonight ten minutes ago. “So it all started when Buck was talking about weddings at work,” he starts.

“Ugh.”

“I know. Some TikTok royal wedding in a Taylor Swift castle.”

“Oh, I know exactly who he’s talking about. That couple is already a mismatch of epic proportion, I do not see them lasting for much longer.”

“Hen and Chim said something similar about their marriage!”

“And Buck?”

“Vehemently protested that.”

“Of course he did. Still believes a fairytale happy ending can be created by wanting it enough instead of by loving each other enough.”

“Don’t sidetrack me,” Eddie chides and yawns, “there’s still the etsy witch of it all.” 

Chris obliges by snuggling up to his dad and letting his hair be played with, listening intently and keeping his sarcastic observations to himself. There will always be tomorrow to nudge his parents towards some important realizations again. Before sleep threatens to completely overtake his dad’s attention he whispers, “Dream something sweet of the land of rainbows,” and still earns a little chuckle.

“Isn’t that Carla’s line?”

“Who called 911? Why is the goodnight police at my sleepover?”

“Sweet rainbow dreams to you too, mijo.”

Reporting to work in the morning, Eddie’s heart feels the lightest it had been in months. There were zero doubts anymore that he and Chris were a team, united in lunacy and gravitas alike. He had looped Christopher’s two songs on his manifesting playlist on the way to work, setting a timer for the remaining three hours until his spell was cast and repeating his own affirmations a few more times for good measure. He has 55 dollars riding on this and Buck’s whole future, so he will be contributing to the plan with the most peaceful ‘Tommy doesn’t exist’ mindset he can muster.

The minutes are ticking by a little too slowly for his taste, the big clock in the firehouse’s kitchen taunting him at first, and then they’re actually called to an emergency at the church, right under the spire and its gong sounding out the tenth hour. One more to go then. Eddie tries his best to transmute all his nervous energy into something positive, something productive, something like pleasant anticipation. The frequency needed to realize his desires. He feels he may have fucked up that process when at T-10 minutes T-word shows up at the station.

“Hi, Evan.” It fucking blares through Eddie’s skull from below the loft.

Time to focus. He might just have come to break up with Buck in person, like a decent human being would. 

Scratch that. That man isn’t decent in the slightest. But why else would he be here if not for the payoff of Eddie’s 55 dollar and 9 day investment? Certainly not to be a good boyfriend to Buck and drop off lunch, or sweet treats for the station like Eddie’s girlfriends did, right? 

“Oh ho, long time no see, Kinard,” Chim says, interjecting Eddie’s thought spiral.

“Thank god,” he hears Hen mutter to his right.

“What do we owe this honour to, that you deign visit the low—”

“You’re overdoing it,” Hen hisses.

“I’m just asking my boyfriend for his keys. I’ve left my jacket and wallet at his apartment yesterday and would like to retrieve them both before I go out for lunch and can’t pay my bill.”

Chim chuckles. Hen groans. Eddie meditates.

His fragile inner peace is soon enough disturbed by Buck shouting up to him, “Eddie, where are my keys?”

“Have you checked our locker?”

“First thing. Not there!”

“Your jeans’ left pocket?”

“Not there!”

“I’m looking through the kitchen, maybe you left it there while preparing coffee.”

“What if you don’t find it?” Buck honest to god whines.

“Then you probably just left it at home. Didn’t clip it back on your car keyring after you had to get the truck serviced.” They’re still shouting at each other.

“Stop the search,” Buck says. “That’s it. Sorry Tommy, I can’t help you.”

“Well, how are you going to enter your apartment after the shift?” Tommy asks.

“Oh, I’ll just take Eddie’s keys.”

“Eddie’s keys…to your apartment?”

“His copy of my keys, of course. He’ll drive me home and let me in. Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy," Tommy scoffs. “And what about my things at your place?”

Bobby, ever the problem solver, materializes out of thin air and nudges Eddie’s shoulder. “I know you have Buck’s copy with you. Help them out.”

Eddie feels like a toddler, the way he doesn’t want to help them out at all and would rather scrub the toilets for five weeks in a row. And the way he can’t help but comply with his captain’s request, including scrunching his face into a grumpy grimace. Let it be known he doesn’t approve of their relationship. It won’t last for much longer anyway. T-2 minutes.

“Buck! Catch!”

“Thank you, Eddie, you’re my saviour!” Buck beams up at him.

“Yeah, you’re the best, Eddie!” Tommy agrees, and it takes everything in Eddie not to retch at that.

“Wait, Tommy, while you’re there can you come pick up my package for me and bring it back with the keys? It’s Sabrina’s new album, and I really want to play it on the drive home. It’s such a Summer car ride album I want to experience it that way. UPS usually delivers them right after I start work, it’s so inconvenient.”

“Of course I can.” Tommy gives Buck a quick peck on the cheek. “Where do they drop your package off when you’re not home?”

Buck pats down his entire body. “Eddie!”

“I can hear you just fine, Buck.”

“Can you get my phone real quick? And check my mails? I need to know whether they’ve dropped it off at my door or with my neighbors on the first floor.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Well you could text my neighbors too if—”

“It’s in front of your apartment door. Ready for pick up.”

“Perfect!” Buck grins brightly at Tommy. “I’m so happy you’re making that happen for me, I’ve been dying to play this album in my car.”

“It’s been out for a day, Evan.” Eddie can practically hear the accompanying eyeroll.

“And I’ve been buzzing with anticipation the whole 36 hours,” Buck counters stubbornly. They both stare at each other. Hen and Chim hold their breath. No one dares disturb the sudden tense silence. Eddie sends a little prayer to his witch Tommy will be gone.

Tommy gives in with a sigh. “While I’m already here, I wanted to see if you were free this Saturday? My cousins are coming down for a spontaneous visit and all bringing their partners too.”

“No, I actually have plans already. With Chris.”

“The whole day? What about lunch or dinner?

“Well, I’ve promised him we’re brunching before the Griffith Observatory’s Public Star Party, and then we’re going to Pepa’s for dinner once Eddie is done fixing up her kitchen. So I’m all booked Saturday.”

Tommy sighs again. Chim smiles. Hen pinches Eddie. “Stop grinning like a fool,” she whispers. “He’s going to think you’re praying for their downfall.”

“What if I am?” Eddie retorts snippily, pushing his chin up slightly and narrowing his eyes in exaggeration like a predatory animal, sizing up Hen’s reaction. 

“Then welcome to the team,” Chim responds to his great relief.

“But hide it better!” Hen elbows him for emphasis.

“Shush,” Chim hisses, “he’s at it again.” 

“Okay. You’re busy Saturday, that’s okay.” It seems to be very far from okay in Eddie’s professional opinion, but he also doesn’t want to take a look at Tommy’s face to confirm that. He has seen enough of him already. “Have you at least taken off the Friday of our basketball game?”

“Yeah, of course. Eddie, Your request has been approved, too, right?

“You’re both off Friday, October the third!” Bobby answers instead.

“Thank you Cap! We were lucky to get in our requests before the other Swifties cause you know—”

“Evan.” Tommy’s tone is suddenly very stern. “I don’t want to hear about anything Swift right now.” 

Buck’s eyes dull immediately and he tucks his lower lip in. It reminds Eddie of what Chris always calls the white girl face, but it honestly just reads as petulant and disappointed to him right now.

“I want to know why Eddie’s taking that day off.” Voice still stern, but this time a tinge of urgency is swinging within.

Chim turns to him with a twinkle in his eye. “So he doesn’t think you’re simply a Swiftie wanting to stay up the whole night like Maddie.” 

“He knows me well,” Eddie grits out.

“Why would Eddie not take that day off?” Buck counters annoyed. He clearly was not done talking about Taylor Swift.

“I’d bet it’s rather that he’s suspicious.” Hen aptly analyzes the situation.

Eddie apparently has paid too little attention to come to the same conclusion, busy thinking of his etsy witch and all that. “Suspicious? Of what?”

“Of who?” Chim singsongs.

“Shush!”

“Why…would…he…take…” Tommy pauses after every word before ultimately raising his voice, “the same day off?”

Buck surprisingly keeps his cool. “Ask Eddie yourself. He’s right here.” 

“Oh, God no.”

“This toxic ass relationship.”

“Do they even like each other?”

“Have they ever?”

The voices of his colleagues suddenly all blur together in Eddie’s head. He knows he took a risk involving himself, but he didn’t quite anticipate the physical consequences. He doesn’t panic after all. But the dizziness and nausea are speaking a different language right now.

“Of course he is. He is always where you are,” Tommy says.

“Because we’re partners!” Buck’s calm and collected voice brings Eddie back to himself.

“Damn right you are.” At Tommy’s vicious remark all the bile in his throat hardens. There’s no time to panic when he has to protect Buck.

“Oh give me a break, you know Eddie! You know we’re partners at work!”

“You can have your break, Evan. I’m done with being the third person in our relationship. It’s all ‘Eddie this, Eddie that’ all the time. Well…You can have him for all I care. If he even wants you.”

As Taylor Swift would say: It’s so quiet you can hear a hairpin drop. 

Not even Hen and Chim have anything to offer apart from mouths agape and eyes wide open, dancing around the room from Buck to Tommy to Eddie to Buck.

It’s Bobby who at last breaks the silence. “You have the keys now, do you want to leave to get your things and come back later?”

“I’m considering getting my things and never coming back,” Tommy says.

“You can’t, you have Eddie’s keys!”

“Yeah I have Eddie’s keys, Eddie’s boyfriend, what’s next, Eddie’s job, Eddie’s house?”

“Eddie doesn’t have a house, he’s a renter!”

“And you have never belonged to the 118!”

“And never will!”

Eddie gets the sudden urge to check whether he really booked the peaceful break up spell, or if he’s responsible for something much uglier to come. Another tense silence envelops the fire station, innocent bystanders holding their breaths as well, their every move lithe and slow to not accidentally incite an explosion of unknown repercussions. Eddie decides he has no such reservations anymore. He wanted their breakup, so he’ll speak it into existence. He makes his way down the stairs, announcing loudly, “You’re right Tommy. This is over. You should leave. And never come back.”

“Oh don’t come in like a knight in shining armour now, this is all your fault," Tommy all but shrieks.

“You causing a scene and publicly breaking up with your boyfriend is not my fault,” Eddie lies gleefully, staring Tommy down with his best poker face. 

“It isn’t? You shut me out of my own relationship.”

“Quit crying!” Eddie is delighting innerly. He had been itching to get the next statement off his notebook and chest for months. “You having been a shitty boyfriend is your own cross to bear. The least you can do now is be a good ex and get out of here before I make you leave.”

“But the keys?” Tommy dares to utter into the stunned silence all around.

“Oh, you can keep them. We’ll just get the locks changed.”

Eddie would pat himself on the shoulder if he could. He handled that really smoothly. There will be no more Tommy for Buck or the rest of the team, that man can just leave their lives entirely and peace will finally be restored.

In Eddie’s singular focus he had failed to notice Hen, Chim and Bobby descending the stairs as well and walking up next to Buck, making it seem like they were about to square off against Tommy in an unfair 5 versus 1 battle. In truth they probably prepared for a fist to fly, having to always expect the unexpected in their jobs anyway and certainly nobody expected Eddie to involve himself in this affair. But the combined hostility radiating off their little troupe must have tingled Tommy’s senses, because he starts retreating without further rebuttal, just leveling them with his most scornful look before turning around and throwing them one last middle finger accompanied by the loudest fuck you this station has ever heard. 

“Ouch, that one really hurt me.” Chim dramatically grabs his chest. Bobby can only shake his head at the antics, and Hen ushers everybody back upstairs to resume their rudely interrupted lunch preparations, and to review the scandalous event out of Buck’s earshot.

That leaves Eddie to cheer up Buck, who uncharacteristically hasn’t said a single word in the last five minutes. This break up must’ve been a big shock to the system, so Eddie briefly wonders if he should’ve warned Buck something was afoot since he was indeed prepared for it to happen. He dismisses that regret quickly and instead focuses on recalibrating his best friend to workability again. Bobby surely would’ve let him take the rest of the shift off, but with Tommy at his apartment and his support system all at the fire station anyway, the best Eddie can do right now is pull Buck into a firm hug and hold him tight, each second of touch steadying what’s been quivering in the other for months now.

The bone-deep exhaustion Eddie has to contend with after this shift isn’t fixed neither by a nap nor a hearty lunch nor a good old session with his notebook, which got him into hot water in the first place. He longs for some peace of mind, for a sign he is still a good person despite personally causing a breakup, for someone to tell him he did the right thing, someone to order all his chaotic thoughts into a neat pile he can process one by one so he can finally feel the relief he had hoped for when wishing Tommy away. The obvious answer would be to talk to a therapist, but Eddie refuses to unpack all of that with anyone other than his son. They wouldn’t understand. They don’t know Eddie and they don’t know Buck and they are missing all the context that makes his choices comprehensible and the hours it would take for him to walk them through it would total up to more than the 55 dollars and he already has promised Chris he wouldn’t selfishly spend their money again so that comes out to a firm no. He is left with thoroughly cleaning his bathroom as an afternoon activity to concentrate his thoughts on how fast limescale keeps building up and complaining to nobody about how toilets haven’t been designed for efficient cleaning.

Now physically instead of mentally exhausted, Eddie takes to the couch to distract himself with some mindless television programme. 

A disturbingly short while later Chris already barrels through the door. “Tell me everything! Give me the play by play! Every facial expression, every hand motion, every side comment, I want to experience everything as if I had been there! Fuck school, I should’ve been there!”

Oh, he forgot he had let Chris know via sms already. But who can blame him, it’s been a whirlwind of 36 hours, he’s glad he even remembered to text Chris about their investment paying off. Their investment. In an Etsy witch. Doubt claws at the back of his mind again—whether it was right to involve himself in Buck’s relationship, to involve a stranger even, and to involve the ancient powers of the universe via witchcraft of all things. The little altar boy in him shudders. Chris places a flyer into Eddie’s hands. “I don’t have all day, let’s go, viejo. Don’t spare any details.”

“You want to order pizza today?” Eddie asks incredulously. “With what money?”

“Don’t you have a fund for celebratory occasions?”

“No.”

“Well, then. This is still worth taking out a small loan for. It’s not everyday that Buck breaks up with his stupid hideous asshole of a boyfriend.”

“Technically, Tommy broke up with him.”

“No spoilers, Dad!”

“You already know the end result? That’s what we’re supposed to celebrate after all.”

“Yeah, but I request the full chisme. The tension. The anger. The everything, as I told you.”

Usually this kind of conversation would require Eddie to be at least three beers deep to handle the journey of second-hand embarrassment he is about to embark on, but since he is trying to be more honest with Chris about his emotions he’ll have to see this through sober. But not without brokering a compromise between both their wants. “How about we order frozen pizza via Instacart and add your chocolate milk to the list too?”

“And the sour gummy worms!”

“Deal!” It isn’t necessarily the cheaper or tastier option regarding pizza, but it gives Eddie the chance to restock on the sweet treats in his cabinet. He knows by heart they’re too low on them for him to make it through the fallout of directly causing Buck’s breakup via a fucking Etsy witch of all things with a mind intact.

“Add ice cream too! The good one!” Christopher shouts at him from his bedroom, where by the sounds of it he’s carelessly dropping his backpack. Whatever. Eddie has to attend the pressing matters of a) getting his son a pizza and b) ensuring he’ll be supplied with enough sugar to take out a Victorian child.

Which, as it turns out, wasn’t even needed. By the end of his debrief with his son Eddie once again feels lighter around the heart, his anxieties eased by the knowledge he’s the dad to the smartest kid in the world, and if that kid supports him in both his rights and wrongs he either hasn’t done anything wrong or is loved so deeply by Chris that everything else doesn’t really matter anyway. He has yearned for these moments so intensely while Chris was in Texas, and now he has them, albeit at the cost of his sanity. But it’s fine. Chris was right. They had good reasons to dislike Tommy as a person and as a boyfriend to Buck and to want him gone. Nothing has changed. Except that they now don’t have to worry about him again. So Eddie should be happy. Chris certainly is. And Buck will be too, in due time.

The weeks pass and a semblance of calm descends upon the Diaz household. That is until: “I think it’s time for me to put myself out there again,” Buck loudly proclaims at the scene of last month’s crime against dignity. Oh, great heavens. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little—” Hen starts sympathetically but Eddie quickly cuts her off, pressing his hand into her arm for emphasis.

“Don’t say that word around him,” Eddie says.

“Thank you for asking, Henrietta. I actually have fully thought this through and realized that man was right.”

Chim drops his knife at that. 

“It was all Eddie this Eddie that all the time.”

Eddie inhales sharply. 

“When it actually should’ve been Buck this Buck that!”

Eddie exhales slowly.

“I should’ve been the priority in my relationship, and in hindsight I think it barely qualified as one since we experienced everything separately. I have more of a connection to Chim than I ever had with him. So…Given that I’ve been deprived of real romantic connection for years at this point, I will download tinder today.”

“So you’re saying you’re looking for someone like me now?” Chim preens. “If another Buckley was in need of another Han I could just set you up with Albert, you know.”

“No, I’m saying I want to date someone that listens to me. Can joke around with me. Enjoys spending time with me andmy family. I don’t want my brother-in-law’s brother to treat me better than my partner.”

This is all actually great news for Eddie, who feels a little relief at Buck coming to these conclusions by himself. He might trust him to pick his next partner all on his own if he keeps self-reflecting like this. Or he might just meddle a little bit again. For his own peace of mind.

“What else are you looking for in your partner?” Eddie asks oh so non-chalantly. His breath doesn’t hitch and his fingers don’t tremble and his heart certainly doesn’t start beating faster either. He concedes that his hands do sweat a little, but that is for sure owed to the September sun still burning through the windows and not because Buck’s little rant sparked some alarming visions of another future with a partner who’s extinguishing instead of nourishing his flame.

“Hair colour, height, job, smoker, allergies,” Hen rattles off. “Come on Buckaroo, hit us with the facts.”

“Well, I don’t want to be superficial.”

“You’ve got the wrong app then, buddy.”

“I’ve literally listed the characteristics you’re going to see people display, that is how you’ll have to decide between people.”

“That and their pictures.”

“Which is arguably even more superficial.”

“Okay, stop. I’m obviously assessing people by their vibes,” Buck says.

Oh. Now this statement does have Eddie’s breath hitching, fingers trembling and heart beating faster. He can sense the anxiety spread through his whole body at the image of Buck vibechecking people on tinder. He must intervene.

“Back to the basics, Buck. What values are you looking for in your partner? How should they treat you? What do you want your future to look like together?” There. Course corrected. 

“Thank you for taking me seriously, Eddie. I guess that is what I want. If I hear another scoff directed at me I will set a fucking closet on fire.”

Hen’s screech at that could probably break glass. Chim is furiously typing on his phone.

And Eddie prods. “Values Buck, let’s start there.”

“I want to be able to trust them. Deeply. They have to be open-minded, so I don’t have to censor myself. Family should always come first. I know I said it should be me, but I’ll eventually be their family too, and until then I need to have seen proof they would go through fire for their loved ones.”

“Sounds like you’d like to date another firefighter again,” Hen chimes in with a  conspiratorial grin.

“I don’t know," Buck hems, “I mean I did like that there was this easy understanding of the realities of our job, and that our schedules were similar too. I can’t imagine dating someone holed up in their office for 60 hours where we only see each other an hour every five days. I like spending time with my loved ones.”

“And yet he barely spent time one on one with Tommy,” Chim mutters.

Eddie has to hide his smile at that. It’s true. And he’s glad other people in Buck’s life have noticed how mismatched the couple was. It wasn’t all in his head, and from the sounds of it neither Hen nor Chim would’ve hesitated to pay 55 dollars to get rid of Tommy. But the prospect of having to pay that again should Buck fail to find the love of his life on Tinder…a very likely prospect given that it’s Tinder…and Buck…with his track record of unsuitable partners…Eddie will just have to take matters into his own hands again before it’s too late again. He pries all the information he can out of Buck about his ideal future partner, which is predictably not all that specific, and therefore further affirms his belief that his intervention is desperately needed. 

Back at home after his shift, he immediately darts for his black little notebook. This time he can skip the research cause he remembers fully well which other options he had to decide against before settling on the Etsy witch. Scripting couldn’t have gotten rid of that man for him, but it could speak into existence the kind of partner Buck deserved. Maybe his sleep-deprivation induced delirium will help him achieve the state of mind needed to believe his scripture is already true, that Buck already has this perfect partner that he’s going to marry and have his happily ever after with. He’s learned he has to feel these things for them to become true and he would not dare dream of being the obstacle to Buck’s happiness, so he’ll raise his frequency to whatever is needed.

Buck is dating the kindest person I’ve ever met. They are as obsessed with him as he is with them. They both trust each other with their lives and don’t hesitate walking into fire for the other. Buck can say whatever he wants and his partner is there to actively listen to him and engage with every conversation. They are each other’s best friend.

Eddie smiles at that. He knows this feeling well. He’ll have this manifested in no time with his vibes being so in tune.

There is no part of their lives that isn’t made better by having the other close by. They both care for each other’s family like it’s their own. Their lifestyles match perfectly and they never struggle with finding time to spend together. They make Buck the happiest he’s ever been. So happy that everyone was genuinely thrilled when they decided to get married.

Eddie’s stomach twists weirdly at that. He decides to lean into it, considering it the butterflies he would have being proposed to by Buck. Or proposing to Buck. He’s unsure how detailed the scripting needs to be, but as long as his body is tingling all over he has to utilize his alight nerves and convince the universe it’s the reality of Buck being with his most compatible partner.

He’d shower him with love and that’s why Eddie’s insides are feeling all warm right now.

He’d be obsessed with him and that’s why Eddie is feeling a little crazed right now.

It’s all working as intended. The manifestation girlies should be proud of him.

Maddie has agreed to being Buck’s best woman and Buck is over the moon. He can’t wait to be a husband and finally feel fully settled in life. I can’t wait to see him this happy either, standing there at the altar, brimming with excitement, looking gorgeous in his new tuxedo. The love he has for his partner is palpable and the love all their guests have for the couple is evident too. They have been rooting for them for a long time. Something that sets this partner apart from all the other ones before. No one has understood Buck this deeply or cared for him this intensely before and everybody knows that this is the bond for life.

Understanding Buck and caring for him is something that Eddie knows how to do even in his sleep. He doesn’t have to conjure a new state of mind for this. He’s crushing this task. No one else could’ve done this as well as him. They don’t know what it feels like to wholly love Buck with every fiber of their being, but Eddie does and he channeled all of that into his manifestation. If Buck doesn’t end up with the love of his life after this, he’ll have to hex a few bloggers for leading him astray and delaying his much needed post-shift nap.

Eddie leaves the notebook on his bedside table this time and just wiggles himself under the covers immediately, not even bothering to change into sweatpants or close his door or even brush his teeth. He’s still clinging to that warm feeling of envisioning Buck’s happy ever after and hopes it lulls him into sweet dreams that send further messages to the universe. Everything helps. Buck will have the perfect partner and Buck will be happy and Buck will get married to his perfect partner and Buck will…

Buck will be in Eddie’s room. He will be opening the front door with his keys to Eddie’s place since Eddie’s late for their breakfast date. Eddie will still be passed out from manifesting too hard. Buck will wipe his little sleepy drool away, and Buck will spot the little black notebook beside him. He will war with his conscience over the right to privacy but his curiosity will win. Buck will see Eddie’s hate fueled raging for all his exes and get so incredibly horny that he’ll have to make a quiet escape to the bathroom, considering the events that led him there while jerking off quickly. He will have gotten all hot and bothered for Eddie cursing his exes. Hot for Eddie for short. Fuck.

Eddie has too much on his mind to notice Buck’s nervous shifting around during lunch. Buck is too busy trying to get his newly discovered rampant sexual attraction to Eddie under control to question why Eddie’s been a little more absent than usual. For once, both are relieved to be home alone again after their hangout, to each deal with their respective dilemmas. While Buck’s is of a physical sort, Eddie is back to pondering the ethics of paying a stranger online to perform a pagan ritual to break up his best friend’s relationship. He desperately needs his post-dinner dessert debrief with Chris. Maybe they should forgo tradition today and let homework be homework to just immediately get to the point. There’s no way he can feign normalcy for a single second once Chris walks through the door, and there’s still two hours to kill before that. Eddie settles on deep cleaning his entire house because well-adjusted and respectable adults always have houses so clean you could eat off of their floors. And Eddie’s clean house will reflect that he’s a well-adjusted morally upstanding citizen. His efforts to fit into the normal population of Los Angeles that need never worry about their virtues soon tire him out, leaving the house spotless and his brain too exhausted to keep spiraling.

Spotless except for the three empty cups of vanilla pudding and tiny spoon Christopher spots next to his passed out dad on the couch table. The older he gets the more often he finds their roles reserved. Where it used to be him too sleepy after a sugar crush to make it to his bed on his own, it’s now his father who has no grasp on his relationship between his emotions and food anymore. But Chris doesn’t begrudge him the indulgences one bit. They have been a long time coming after all, and many people have overcompensated their much less traumatic pasts, too, and come out fine. 

That’s another thing that has changed between them now. It used to be Chris who needed the relationship advice, needed to be told how to date without the shadow of his mom’s death looming over him and impacting the way he chose to treat the people he wanted to keep close in his life. It’s not that Eddie couldn’t have used some good relationship advice the past years either, but Chris has finally come to the realization that it’s him who’s most qualified to give his dad the nudges in the right direction, to give him permission to let go of the past that constrains him and instead accept the future he wants is already right in front of him.

To successfully set up what will undoubtedly be a very delicate conversation, if the amount of sugar in his dad’s system right now is any indication, Chris decides to remove as much shame as possible from the equation. Silently throwing the pudding cups into the trash, putting the spoon in the dishwasher, wiping the table and finally unlocking Eddie’s phone to set an alarm for half past five. He knows his dad would feel guilty over sleeping to his heart's content instead of preparing dinner, so he’ll let him believe he is on top of his schedule. Unfortunately easing his dad’s worries doesn’t magically make his own go away, so he ponders a myriad of increasingly unlikely events that could have caused the crash on the couch, each one of them either starting or ending with Buck. Which fortunately means he already has half his speech prepared and he’ll just have to improvise the rest for maximum impact, approaching the causal root with the patience of a wildlife documentarian.

But a teenager obviously has only so much patience, and Chris is slowly but surely running out of his.

“I can’t believe Hen wanted to know what hair colour Buck is into.” He stares at Eddie in disbelief. He expected better from Henrietta. 

“Right?” Eddie agrees enthusiastically. “As if people wouldn’t dye their hair to be with him!”

That gives Chris a pause. And an in hopefully. “I’m sure Taylor did,” he replies with a smug grin.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me of the devil.” Check. “I will never understand what made Buck think she was fit to be his partner? And now I have to trust him to find another partner on Tinder of all places? Bless his heart, but he cannot tell friend from foe should his life depend on it.”

“And he can’t distinguish between friend and partner either.” The remark flies right over Eddie’s head.

“I tell you one thing Chris, we do not have the money to hire a witch every time he gets into another relationship with a weirdo just because they paid a little attention to him. So, I returned to your advice about manifestation. We will be all about early intervention now. It won’t even get to the point of preventing a wedding this time.”

“Fast food Fridays are saved then?”

“That depends on whether my scripting worked,” he admits sheepishly.

“Your scripting? Don’t get shy with me now," Chris warns, wagging his finger in front of Eddie’s face. “Tell me everything!”

And so Eddie does, finding himself unable to refuse his son any wish in his still current state of emotional exhaustion and confusion.

Chris never thought his simple remark, a typical Los Angeles colloquialism even, would have his dad spiralling his way into his gay awakening, but since he is already responsible for getting the ball rolling he doesn’t hesitate a bit to shamelessly seize this opportunity.

“So,” he draws out, “when you thought about Buck’s perfect partner...” A little pause for dramatic effect. “Did you draw from your own experiences?”

Eddie is happily oblivious to the trap he’s walking into. “Well, yes. Since it was important I felt what I wrote down for it to become true. Otherwise it would’ve been a useless exercise in creative writing.” He’s still oblivious but a little annoyed now. It’s as if Chris hadn’t paid attention at all to his elaborate report, but if Chris doesn’t know every detail then he can’t help Eddie untangle all his thoughts and—

“Who did you think of?” Chris cuts bluntly through his mental noise. 

“What kind of question is that?” Eddie cocks his head.

“A simple one.” Eddie narrows his eyes at that. He still dislikes being taken for a fool, even though he signed up for that by the simple fact of being a father.

“Come on Dad, humor me. Who did you think of when trying to describe Buck’s perfect partner?”

“Well, Buck obviously. This whole script is about him after all.”

Apparently that does not satisfy his son. He keeps pushing: “And when you had to think of your experiences being loved, being considered, being taken care of, the experiences you want Buck to have, who did you think of? Was it Ana?”

Eddie’s stomach does a funny twist at that.

“Was it Marisol?” Another twist. Not so funny this time.

“Was it mom?” The pudding threatens to make its way up again. Chris seems to notice, reaching out to him and putting his hands on Eddie’s knees again, just like that night when he had panicked about paying someone to break up a relationship. And it works again. Feeling his son steady him, warm hands and the promise of staying by his side. He can’t scare him away anymore than he already has. And yet the words form a lump in his throat.

Chris, ever the mind reader, jumps in. “You don’t have to say anything. What you and Mom had, that was turbulent. You wouldn’t wish turbulence on Buck. He wants something safe, solid, stable. Someone to build a future with.”

“It’s like you were looking over my shoulder when I wrote the script.” Eddie manages a small smile. He truly does have the smartest, most perceptive kid in the world.

“You know what they say,” Chris chuckles. “To be known is to be loved. And I know both you and Buck. And I know you both know the other inside out. It’s as easy as putting two and two together for me.”

“So let me ask you again,” Chris says. “When you were envisioning how you want Buck to be loved, were you thinking of the way you love Buck?”

Eddie’s heart drops and joins the rest of the anxious mess that’s already throwing a party in his stomach. His lungs are apparently on the way to the party too given how much trouble he has breathing right now.

“Dad, look at me,” Christopher pleads and Eddie complies. At least his fatherly instinct is still in order.

“I want you to breathe. Slowly and deeply.”

Eddie does.

“Because this is good. I’ve been waiting for your mind and body to catch up to what your heart already knows. If I had known it would only take a creative writing exercise, as you so nicely put it, I would have sat you down with pen and paper years ago.” 

“You’re shattering my world here little by little and still can’t help but be a smartass about it, can you?” Eddie can’t help but smile fondly. He loves Chris so much.

“I’m relieved you are finally in a place where I can tell you that you are gay.” Oh. Well. Another bomb dropped.

“And I’m relieved you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me that.” Eddie tries to deflect. But the bomb detonates and he suddenly feels all buzzed up, imbued with nervous energy instead of his prior lethargy and nausea. 

“It took us both a while but we’re here now, right?” Chris’ smile is blinding.

“Gay, you say?” The word doesn’t roll off his tongue easily. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, a hundred percent. Do you want to see my sources?” Chris laughs and gestures around with his hands, pointing to Eddie and their kitchen and their picture frames and Eddie tries to remember the chaos of his mind and body he was running away from all day, all month even, but comes up empty. It’s as if the bomb had demolished all the knots in his brain and stomach and instead left him with a blank canvas to start again. 

A canvas so blank “I haven’t even kissed a man” splutters out of him.

“Well, Dad, you know you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. That’s your job.”

A sudden flash of remembrance hits him. “So that was what the juice was about.”

“Horses don’t tolerate juice, but you do you. Whatever makes you happy.” Chris smiles at him and Eddie already feels so happy he could cry.

He doesn’t cry, but he does spend half his week all in his head, reorganizing his past with the roadmap Chris gave him, something about aligning his mind and his body with his heart and the fact that he’s apparently gay. It makes sense in a way. Whenever he considers it, his heart rate slows down and the fog in his mind lifts a little. Events he couldn’t think about without having to swallow down bile now fit neatly into a category of ‘canon events for gay teenagers’, which Chris told him about in the hopes of making him feel less alone. It works. He is finding comfort in his deep ocean of turmoil actually not being scarily unexplored and there being many fish in the same sea, meaning these waters are indeed habitable if he finds the courage to properly use his gills. It’s not about merely surviving. It’s about living again. About breathing without suffocating on dry land under the weight of a million rocks on his chest, taking the shape of strangers’ expectations. But what really matters is right at home. If Chris wants him to be happy, he can do happy. The more he processes the less drowsy he feels and the phrase of coming into oneself is starting to ring more and more true to him, with both his body and mind more at ease than he can ever recall. But there is still something bugging him, something he can’t quite identify despite the hours of introspection, something disturbing his precious newfound peace.

“I’ve got a date tomorrow!” With no walls to bounce off Buck’s booming voice ends up at Eddie’s spine, sending shivers down it.

“What about good morning?” Eddie grumbles, silently cursing him and Buck being so synched up they arrive at the parking lot at the same time. He should not have to deal with this before his first coffee of the day.

“I’m just trying to set the tone for our shift today! There better be nothing grim happening that’ll take me weeks to scrub off my skin. I obviously want to look my best tomorrow.”

“Oh so you want the shift to be qu—” Buck lunges for Eddie with all his might and wrestles his hand over his mouth just in time for the rest of the sentence to come out mumbled. 

“What the fuck are you trying to do?” Buck rasps, eyes narrowed to slits.

Strangled noises leave Eddie’s throat. He ponders whether licking or biting Buck’s hand would get him out of the current predicament the quickest. Using his experience as a street fighter to wrestle his way out doesn’t cross his mind. It’s either licking or biting. Buck’s hand is spared the undecided fate by Chim announcing his arrival in the loudest most smug “Good morning!” Eddie has ever heard.

Buck jumps like a frightened kitten, sending a warning fiery glance Eddie’s way. “Don’t you dare.”

And Eddie won’t. If only to avoid being fired. But he has to do something.

The perfect opportunity presents itself a mere hour later. Eddie is man behind for a minor call and Buck has left his phone behind, in plain view on the table, basically begging for it to be stolen—Okay, he wouldn’t go as far as to steal it, but unlocking it and sending a message to tomorrow’s date maybe, that wouldn’t be so reprobate right. He can’t even say why he’s so hellbent on sabotaging the date. For all he knows that person could be Buck’s soulmate. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t be so annoyed about it. Any partner of Buck’s will have to contend with Eddie anyway sooner or later, so it’s just an advanced vibe check, an early intervention before he’s finding himself paying Etsy witches again. Totally logically sound.

He unlocks the phone and halts. Where would they be messaging? Is it serious enough for iMessages? Is it a hookup on Snapchat? How long does he have to comb through all the bajillion apps on there? He swipes and swipes until his eyes naturally find a flame. That must be the infamous Tinder then. 

Here goes nothing. He takes a deep breath and opens the app, bracing himself to encounter uncouth pictures, crass pick-up lines and just general Hell in a bottle. It’s not that bad actually. He recognizes the messaging icon and sighs. So far so good. Not particularly more overwhelming than any other app he’s had to navigate. He tries to scan the messages for the one most likely to confirm a date happening, but there are so many. How is he supposed to find the one Buck is taking out tomorrow without opening every single one? That would be a dead giveaway. 

He sighs and decides to try his luck with a lady named Mavis who’s last message reads “I’m excited :)” and luckily is already two scrolls down, overtaken by a dozen other people expressing interest in Buck today. Holy hell. At least it won’t be immediately obvious he messed with her given that there’ll probably be many more messages rolling in with the city just waking up now. 

Eddie opens the chat and is immediately lost again. He should have Chris by his side for this. He’d know exactly how to text a girl to cancel a date without your best friend getting mad at you for it. Or well, he probably wouldn’t. Maybe that’s the key then, not saying anything. Maybe he can just delete their chat. Block her from contacting Buck again. That sounds solid. Eddie wouldn’t go on a date if he couldn’t confirm it was still happening the day of, and he’ll make sure there’s no chance of that confirming conversation taking place, which equals no date for Buck and Mavis. Pity. He tries to locate the three dots that usually take him to a menu with further options, but can’t find them. Of course there had to be a block in the road at some point. And of course it’s his aversion to new technology that’s thwarting his plans. But one technology he is very familiar with by now is Google.

how to block someone on tinder

Oh. Not three dots but a shield. He has a bone to pick with the UX designers of the app. He purposefully didn’t click that for fear of triggering some kind of alarm, but okay, he’ll have to click it now if he wants to go through with this. Three options appear on the screen for Mavis. Report. Unmatch. And a safety center? So, he was partially right about the shield after all. His instincts didn’t fully betray him. Eddie chooses to unmatch Mavis, and confirms the decision. Well, that was easy. 

Except that now a new message has arrived. And another. So he was also right about the city waking up and clamoring for Buck’s attention right away. Nice. Not worrying at all. How is Buck ever going to pick the right partner from this horde of people? Eddie has a disabled child at home. He does not have the money to support Buck through three divorces where they’ll inevitably take him for all he’s worth because his heart is too big and trusting. There has to be a more cost-effective solution to get rid of these unworthy folks. Eddie glances at the time. He’s lost a little with his meandering and lack of planning, but his agile fingers should be able to make quick work of the task at hand: Deleting all 99+ of Buck’s tinder matches. He finds a steady rhythm after the first dozen and doesn’t even stop to wipe the sweat he’s worked up from his brow until he reaches the very last match. 

“Let’s pour one out to Calvin,” he huffs as he hits unmatch. Truly ridiculous. Did Buck even vet any of these people who he swiped right on? Did they even try to glean his personality or was his profile picture reason enough for them to match with him? He does look hot in it, Eddie has to admit that. But as surely as he knows the grass is green and that Buck is attractive, he also knows that none of these tinder people are the right fit for him.

As he gets up to plug Buck’s phone into the charger he is greeted by a sudden thought, pounding on the back of his mind. The voice sounds suspiciously like Chris. Why do you know these people aren’t the right fit?

There were so many of them, statistically one of them could’ve been everything Buck wants in a partner.

But Eddie knows. He knows it as surely as he knows the sky is blue. These strangers could never be what Buck needs. They could never make him feel understood and cared for in the way he deserves. He knows this because he knows they don’t know Buck like he knows Buck. Like he understands Buck. And cares for him. And loves him. Oh. Fuck. Well. His whole body tenses and relaxes immediately.

That certainly explains the residual level of stress Eddie has been carrying around with him for a few days. Or maybe even longer. Chris could probably tell him. Chris who pushed him onto this path of self-discovery. Did he precipitate this being on the way too? He’ll have to have another long chat with him once he gets home tomorrow. 

The long chat in question boiling down to: “It’s a win win dad. I want you to be happy. You want Buck to be happy. Buck makes you happy and you make Buck happy. Is that clear enough?”

“Yes, boss."

So Eddie’s really just killing two birds with one stone when he brainstorms ideas to make Buck love him back. They could be so happy together if Buck would just see that Eddie is right in front of him already. If he were in love with Eddie, he wouldn’t download a stupid dating app and wouldn’t risk losing out on his prince charming by falling head first into a relationship with the first person being nice to him, would he? Instead he would be giving Eddie all his attention, would carry him on his hands and feet and give him the world. And Eddie, of course, would do the same. So he’s actually just giving luck a helping hand when he decides to manifest Buck’s love into his life via subliminal messaging—which once again requires enlisting his son to help.

“You want me to do what?” Chris asks.

“You heard me just fine. Download Buck’s voice messages and show me how to manipulate them.”

“Manipulate?” A statement so ridiculous Chris has to raise a second eyebrow. “Do you plan on playing a prank on him?”

“No,” Eddie sighs exasperatedly. “I thought you knew all about manifesting! Just download them onto my laptop and show me a program to cut them up and rearrange them. Please.”

“Oh, I see. You want to splice them together to say something different?”

“Yes, exactly!” Eddie claps his hand excitedly. “Like how DJs weave two songs together. There has to be a tool for this, too.”

“Hand over your laptop. I got you.”

Eddie can’t resist ruffling his teenager's curls at that. “You’re the absolute best,” he beams.

“Obviously. I wouldn’t dream of being a block in your road to happiness. Told ya, whatever works is fine by me.” Now it’s Chris’ turn to sound exasperated. He’s been patient for seven long years enough. How much clearer can he make it to his dad that he’s an active supporter, probably a bigger one than even Maddie, of these two finally getting their head out of their asses. Does he need to provide a written statement in accessible language signed by a notary? Or will encouraging all of Eddie’s antics be transparent enough? He has the feeling it will only become obvious in hindsight, when his dad’s back with his feet on the ground and can recontextualize his current behaviour as that of a mad man in love. Because if he thinks he’s being normal right now, he’ll take Christopher’s support for granted too, and not as an expression of acceptance. Chris sighs. He should seriously consider writing a statement then, before it gets any crazier in his house.

Eddie spends hours on his laptop that night. Turns out his biggest obstacle isn’t the technological aspect, since Chris explained the steps to him very thoroughly and even left him detailed instructions on paper, should he forget. His actual problem is figuring out what being loved by Buck would sound like. The files I love you Eddie and I will have your back forever Eddie are sitting very lonely in their folder, but for all Eddie knows Buck’s love language isn’t really words as such and more rooted in his constant presence, which is proving very difficult to translate. The way Buck shows up for everyone in his life without hesitation, without asking anything in return, just giving himself fully to the people he loves—that isn’t simply to be summarized in a single statement to loop all night. 

He has to switch tactics. If Buck were in love with him, he’d of course feel safe with him, safe enough to never shut up probably, which also would perfectly signify his constant presence in Eddie’s life. This angle should work. He sorts the voice messages by file size and arranges the twenty largest into a continuous seven hour stream of Buck’s rambling, adding in a few baby’s he had already clipped away and his other two affirmations between every voice memo. He’s proud of his work. He feels the love already. He’s doing so good at adhering to the principles. Speaking it into existence. Feeling it to be true. This will all work out in no time at all. For once in his life, Eddie Diaz goes to sleep with a smile on his face, being lulled into a peaceful slumber by Buck’s excited voice telling him about banana trees only bearing fruits once after nine months and a little staccato I love you Eddie.

Three nights in, Eddie’s growing impatient besides experiencing the best sleep of his life. Things are once again not adding up. For all his musings over Buck showing love through action instead of words, Eddie actually forgot that he should be taking actionable steps too, in accordance with all the manifestation rules he had researched over the past month. But fortunately his little black notebook comes to his rescue, with the next step of his mission to be loved by Buck already written down. 

Act like you have it. That’s doable. Acting like he’s in a relationship with Buck. Like they’re boyfriends. Minus the kissing maybe, because that would certainly arouse suspicions at the firehouse. And minus the…Yeah. He’ll have to stop masturbating. There’s no doubt in Eddie’s mind he’d be well taken care of by Buck in that regard, so since there would be no need for his own hand anymore and he is set on embodying this state fully he’ll have to…stop…masturbating. Bigger sacrifices have surely been made in the name of love before, but Eddie does hope his commitment is paying off quickly. 

Apart from that, he’s slowly running out of ideas though. They already are best friends, glued to each other’s side at work, call each other partners, have a weekly standing date, the keys to each other’s homes and have been more than introduced to their families. Rattling his brain to come up with anything else, Eddie decides to focus on the dating aspect, where he still sees room for improvement. Unless he wants to start calling Buck pet names at work, he has little else to work with that would change their relationship without making him seem like a freak that doesn’t understand consent.

But treating their hangouts more intentionally, maybe even straight up calling them a date and putting his best chivalrous foot forward instead of letting their usual relaxed agreements run its course—that he can do. He can make Buck feel wooed without compromising his stealth and he already has the perfect opportunity lined up this Friday: the cursed basketball game. Where better to prove they’re too in love with each other to care about the rest of the world than at a sporting event that Buck wouldn’t willingly go to? If Eddie manages to make this a memorable happy memory for Buck—and he will—then he has this in the bag.

Well, that was wishful thinking. He pulled out all the stops, ever the cavalier driving and paying for dinner and maybe even committing a little crime in the name of love, and Buck enjoyed himself tremendously, something no one but Eddie could have achieved at such an occasion, but he still cannot perceive a shift in Buck’s attitude towards him. He has to escalate his actions before all his past efforts to keep Buck off the market lose their power and he has to start at square zero again. There’s too much on the line to risk half-assing anything. It’s about Buck’s happiness after all. 

Buck who always asks his partners to move in with him when he wants to take their relationship more seriously. That’s an avenue worth exploring. Act like Buck is Eddie’s live-in boyfriend. Their work schedules already align, there should be very little in the way of helping Eddie create this illusion. He requests they carpool to work together every morning now, and grocery shop together. It’s not like they didn’t do this before, so it doesn’t strike Buck as odd, but Eddie’s sure his insistence on neither of them doing either of these things alone again should tell the universe where things are headed—towards cohabitation. 

Chris shows him how to stalk Buck’s Spotify activity and Eddie obsesses over checking his laptop every five minutes to make sure he and Buck are listening to the same songs on speaker, as if they were living together. There was never a doubt in his mind that he would like Buck’s music taste, but the amount of times he finds himself saving the On Repeat songs to his own favourites even surprised him. If it had been up to Eddie, Green Light would have won a Grammy.

Eddie’s next Amazon order is just hair products. Curl products. Buck’s curl products to be specific. He places them all inside his bathroom, his shower, his cabinet and under the sink, the same places he’s seen them be at Buck’s loft too. 

Buck has been on a movie kick recently, courtesy of Chimney’s outrage at his lack of understanding Chim’s grandiose cinematic references, so Eddie downloads Letterboxd. He tries to anticipate which one of Chim’s recommendations Buck will turn on each night and gets them right to an astonishing degree, having them both turn off the TV and log the movie at a similar time, with Chris mockingly referring to him as ‘the grande Buck Buckley understander’ once again. 

But every so often Buck throws a wildcard in there, which has Eddie scramble at 11 pm to watch and log a movie the same day so it’ll still appear as if they had watched it together. That proves a little difficult at times when The Great Gatsby suddenly has a runtime of 2h 22m, but Eddie is determined, and Chris taught him how to change the dates on the movies he’s watched so everything that happens before he falls asleep is fair game to count as the same day, actually.

While his efforts are highly concentrated on the moving in mission, Eddie has not forgotten about treating Buck like his boyfriend. He’s still opening the doors for him, letting him order first, and leaving him the odd little nicety in their locker, always supplied with a pink sticky note saying for B and signed with a crooked heart. Eddie’s telling the universe the B stands for Boyfriend and just not saying anything to Buck about it. But he can tell by the way he smiles and blushes it’s not a platonic reaction anymore. Good. He has finally laid the groundwork to go all in. Their date at the basketball game has inspired him. If an activity as uninteresting to Buck as that can be turned into a successful date, he can only imagine what a real anniversary perfectly tailored to his preferences could look like.

Fortunately his excessive time spent on Spotify has served him with just the right idea.

“Chris, I need your help.”

“What’s new?”

“I want to buy tickets to a festival, but it keeps leading me to a site that says it’s sold out?”

“That might be because it is indeed sold out.”

“Why is it being advertised to me then? This is ridiculous, I hate this stupid app.” 

Eddie can barely contain his annoyance at the greed of tech companies, but he knows he shouldn’t have his bad mood infect Chris, who instead has something hopeful to contribute: “Maybe we can find resale tickets.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. “Can you really?” 

“Yeah, of course. They’ll just be more expensive, probably by a lot.”

“Money doesn’t matter. Just buy me two tickets to Shadow of the City West. It’s important.”

“Buck level important?” Chris asks impishly.

He gets an eyeroll in return. “What else could it be?”

“Touché.”

Eddie credits his intense commitment to the laws of manifestation for the way the universe lined up their next four days off to coincide with the date of the festival happening. Now all he needs is to create an impeccable surprise ticket reveal around it. He wants to make it an experience that will show Buck all around how deeply he’s loved by him. 

Sometimes it still catches Eddie by surprise that he can just think these thoughts now. That he can admit to them, and that they fill his heart with warmth instead of dread. But this endeavour requires concentration instead of sappiness, so Eddie makes his way over to Buck’s loft to investigate whether Buck’s CD collection is missing any of the festival act’s albums. He doesn’t even invent an excuse to show up, because boyfriends should be able to see each other whenever they want for no reason. And Buck goes along with it. Eddie even manages to send him out for errands to bake him apple cinnamon muffins now. He knew there wouldn’t be enough apples in the household to fulfill his request. 

In Buck’s absence, Eddie quickly takes stock of the extensive CD collection that’s stored right next to the front door, in easy reach for going on a drive. He finds exactly what he’s looking for: only two Bleachers albums where there should be four. His high Spotify screen time is finally paying off. While Buck is allergic to buying his CDs online unless it’s a preorder, Eddie has no such qualms. He’s completed the transaction before Buck is back and still has the time to send Chris detailed instructions on how to design a ticket that fits inside the jewel case. Fuck e-tickets for making this harder than it needs to be, but at least he gets to personalize every detail now, down to the lyrics he wants Buck to associate with this gift. He spends half the rest of their afternoon observing Buck in the kitchen, and half of it in his head daydreaming about the right moment to deliver the present. 

It ends up being at work three days later, after an exhausting evening of crafting. He’s simply too giddy to wait any longer, so he stops Buck at the lockers, with a sheepish smile on his face. “Hey, I got you a gift.”

“Personal delivery today?” Buck cocks his face in what an objective observer would call a flirty gesture.

“Yeah, leaving it in the locker felt a bit impersonal for this occasion.”

“What kind of occasion?” Buck looks puzzled. Fair enough. But Eddie has a different part of his speech to get through first before he can answer that.

“I know you would’ve never bought this for yourself despite how desperately you wanted it. But you wanted to save it for a special moment. So I thought…Maybe this October being our seven year anniversary of being partners would be special enough.” Eddie’s heart is fully in his pants now. Where did he get all this bravado? What if he miscalculated everything and Buck will be mad at him for ruining his tradition? Has he finally overplayed his hand? As if on cue his hands start shaking a little and Buck, oh so sweet Buck, grabs the gift box right out of them to instead hold and steady Eddie.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“For starters, you haven’t even opened my present yet.” If he’s honest with Buck now, he might be too honest, and then there’s no turning back. “What if you hate it? Would you ask me the same question then?

“Don’t get smart with me now, when you want to do something sweet for me.” Buck smiles knowingly. “After seven lovely years together, I know you know me well enough to not disappoint me.” 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense then. Open the box.” 

Eddie has miscalculated the timing. Buck has no reason to open the CDs until the drive home from work in 24 hours. Nice. At least that leaves Eddie with enough time to come up with a convincing reason as to why he has to drive with Buck instead of in his own car. And enough time fully savor the anticipation. The first part of the gift was already such a triumph, he keeps replaying Buck’s face in his mind, the excited flapping of his hands and bouncing his feet, the pure unfiltered joy coming straight from his heart, it all feels like a drug to him. Not even the teasing of his colleagues can keep him from staring at Buck all day long, getting another rush of excitement each time. Who is he kidding, drugs could never replicate this feeling. And knowing that the real marvel still awaits Buck later is just the cherry on top.

As anticipated, Buck dives straight for Gone Now to play in his car, an un-shuffable album to him, as Eddie has learned. He can’t keep the smile off his face, seeing Buck’s mouth fall open at the surprise inside.

“Starlight and star-crossed?” he whispers, head turning to look at Eddie.

“Keep reading. What else does it say?”

“October 25th. Shadow of the City West. One Ticket. Doors open at 5pm.” Tears fill Buck’s eyes. They threaten to spill onto the ticket his gaze is still glued to, so Eddie gently takes the case out of Buck’s hands and replaces it with the other album. 

“That’s only half the gift.” 

It’s Buck’s hands’ turn to shake, overwhelmed with excitement, emotions searching for any way to release themselves. He manages to open the second case and stare in disbelief once again, the words If you’re feeling small I’ll love your shadow and Companion Ticket jumbling together in front of his eyes to something bigger, something he has suspected for the past weeks but hasn’t dared dream of accepting just yet. All he can do is pull Eddie into the most awkward hug of the world, right over the center console, in their workplace’s parking lot, on a sunny October day. He tries to set off the bodily discomfort by whispering a million thank you’s into Eddie’s ear. Each thank you meaning a million different things. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for showing me you love me. Thank you for letting yourself love me. 

Pulling himself back into his seat and together a little bit he adds audibly, “Thank you for making my dreams come true, Eddie. You can’t even begin to imagine how much this means to me.” He hopes Eddie understands all that he’s not saying. Not yet. He has to wipe the tears from his eyes to continue. “Seeing my favourite band in the world sing my favourite song of all time—” A little hiccup interrupts his flow but he pushes through. “Together with my favourite person in the world. There aren’t enough words in the world to express to you how much this means to me.”

Eddie is all but kicking his feet from all the joy he’s experiencing right now. “I can make a pretty educated guess.” He grins brightly and adds excitedly, “And did you know The Maine are performing too? It’s a two for one special.”

“It’s everything,” Buck responds earnestly.

Eddie can feel his eyes start to sparkle at that, the two words making their way through his entire body, until every cell is lit from within, lit with something he’ll later learn to call love. He pushes the CD into the drive and hits play. Buck, as expected, immediately lights up, tears not yet dry. “Let’s learn some lyrics before Saturday, shall we?”

Saturday both comes and doesn’t come soon enough. Vibrating with excitement would be an understatement for Eddie’s current state of being. Even perpetually moody Chris has been infected with the positive buzzing energy around the house, humming along to the setlist playlist both Buck and Eddie have been bumping separately but simultaneously of course. 

The manifestation grind never stops. In that vein Eddie also took it upon himself to prepare all the snacks for the road, fill up the tank, secure easy parking in advance, and put on his good cologne. If it’s in his hands, this will be the best concert Buck has ever been to.

Naturally, Eddie drives them to Irvine, soaking up every minute of Buck’s unfiltered anticipation, observing how he’s screaming and dancing his heart out already from the corner of his eye, knowing that Buck will still be able to bring that same energy to the festival and to the drive home too. 

Well, that’s a lie. Eddie hadn’t thought it possible, but Buck’s energy doubles once The Maine come on stage, and then doubles again when it’s finally time for Bleachers to headline. But he also understands. The feeling of live music is incomparable—the way it enters your body, makes your heart, blood and bones all thrum to the same beat, while your mouth and mind sink into the familiarity of the lyrics that you’ve already given your whole heart to for years. It comes close to worship. Screw that— with Buck by his side, it is worship. And once the first chords of Chinatown start playing Eddie actually thinks he might be in heaven. 

He has felt full body terror before. Terror so deep it sinks into your bones and makes itself a home there. He’s felt it so often he can greet it like a neighbour by now. But he has never felt full body joy before. Joy so overwhelming his body doesn’t know what to do with it except cry it all out. It’s involuntary, but it’s working. He’s releasing months, hell, probably years worth of sorrows to the soundtrack of a band that understands loss like no one else does. Jack’s singing I love to chase every feeling and Eddie agrees. Burying his feelings deep inside him hasn’t worked out well for him in the past, but running after them, feeling them first inhabit but then also pass through his body, leaving him with a clearer mind and lighter heart—that’s what he wants for his future. Jack’s belting I wanna find tomorrow with you, baby and Eddie looks at Buck. Buck who’s so full of light and love he’s bursting with it, illuminating everyone around them with his incomparable glow. Eddie couldn’t be more in love with him if he tried.

Now that the dams are broken, he sheds a tear—or multiple—at every song left on the setlist. He just can’t help it. Meanwhile Buck is living out his own wildest dreams, hugging Eddie firmly during Chinatown, putting him on his shoulders immediately after during Rollercoaster, making Eddie feel like a teenage girl at a UK festival. Holding and swaying Eddie during Isimo, sharing their each and every motion and emotion, feeling fully in sync with each other. They both cry during I wanna get better, each briefly remembering their own shitty childhoods and how they clawed themselves out of there via sheer force of will, creating the future they’re living in this present moment, screaming the lyrics in each other’s face and towards the stage and to the world, feeling the whole crowd participate in their collective catharsis. 

And then it’s time for Buck’s favourite song of all time. Eddie takes out his phone and starts filming. He wants to capture this moment, this feeling, this transformative experience. He wants Buck to have this memory forever. 

You steal the air out of my lungs you make me feel it. Eddie has never felt a lyric more in his life, as if it was his heart on stage singing, not some random kid from New Jersey. It’s transcendent seeing Buck like this. A shade of happiness he has never seen on him before. Nothing weighing him down. The crowd is shouting your hand forever’s all I want, and Buck looks at Eddie with a smile so bright it could burn lesser people. But Eddie is not afraid of Buck’s goodness. He takes his hand and mirrors his smile. In another life he, would probably kiss Buck right now. But in this life they both turn their bodies back to the stage, hands still intertwined and enjoy the last minute of their favourite song with every fibre of their being.

The post-concert high they’re both feeling after is something they’ll still tell their grandchildren about, hoping to instill an appreciation for the arts in them early on. Walking back to his car, a highlight reel of the show running on loop in Eddie’s mind, the melodies of joy in his ears, Eddie’s hand still intertwined with Buck’s, he halts abruptly and looks at Buck to say, “You know what I’ve noticed?”

Buck stops too. “No?”

“All your favourite songs have something in common.”

“What do you mean by that?” Buck’s mind’s racing, trying to identify the connection himself, but he remains bewildered. “They’re not even all from the same genre or about the same topic?”

“True. But they all have a motif. A little sequence of notes that’s repeated in different parts of the song.” Eddie starts pitching the beginning of Don’t Take The Money. “You love this part the most.”

Eddie is right. Buck is dumbfounded. “Ho—How did you catch that?” 

“I always notice you paying special attention to those parts, whether it’s singing them a little louder, waving your hands around suddenly or starting to vocalize the instrumentals,” Eddie shrugs. “And when I saw your playlist of favourite songs I simply put two and two together.”

Buck has to sit down at that, moving them to a little patch of grass at the side of the path. Eddie follows suit. “Are you good?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, splendid,” he laughs. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around you knowing me better than I know myself.” He has never in his life felt so deeply seen before.

“You see,” Eddie hesitates briefly but decides to take the plunge. It’s now or never. “Chris recently told me that to be known is to be loved.” Deep breaths. In and out. They’re both in sync again, trying to remain calm but starting to blush instead.

“I’ve always said that kid’s wise beyond his years.” Buck smiles. It’s impossible for him to pass up an opportunity to rave about his Christopher.

“He’ll grow into it, I’m sure.” Eddie returns the smile.

And there’s another thing Chris told Eddie, something that sounded too poetic for him to make sense of at that moment, but it’s clicking for him right now. Love’s too beautiful a resource to restrict. He shouldn’t be stingy with his love. He should shower Buck in it. He should kiss Buck. And so he does. His steady hands on Buck’s beautiful face, his own lips finally on Buck’s where they belong, delivering a promise of a shared future.

Their happy ever after won’t include anymore little black notebooks or journaling or crazy ex-boyfriends showing up at work to cause a scene. 

As a matter of fact, Eddie will have embodied the feeling of Tommy being gone for so long and so completely that he’ll nearly miss his obituary notice in the papers: Death by meteor. Straight through the gut.

Eddie will not feel an ounce of guilt, but he might start telling everyone and their mom to get into manifestation.