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gracetoldmeto · 3 years

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🍋 Lemon Boy 🍋

Pairing: Mello | Mihael Keehl/Unnamed Female OC or Mello | Mihael Keehl/3rd POV fem!reader

Characters: Mello | Mihael Keehl, Matt | Mail Jeevas, Unnamed Female OC

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide

Words: 7320

Summary: It’s a race against the clock for Mello to get home. They found him and she could be stuck in the resulting crossfire. Hopefully he can find a way out of this nightmare, or it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Author’s Notes: This was inspired by the title and some lyrics to “Lemon Boy” by Cavetown. Also, the “…” denotes a flashback or a time skip and “they/them” italicized is in reference to Mello’s rival mafia group. I didn’t include many details since I deemed them unnecessary. Feel free to use your imagination, and all blocks of italics are during a flashback.

This is my first ever fic, I hope you enjoy (plz share if you do) cause I really liked writing it :)

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“MELLO!” A strained voice, nearly out of breath, frantically yelled from the alleyway outside.

The blonde, who had been engrossed in polishing his gun, flung his head back in frustration and threw down the cloth he was using. He hated to be interrupted. He needed to stay focused, and he didn’t have time for interruptions. But just as he was about to open his mouth for a slicing retort, his widening eyes locked on Matt’s deeply rattled expression after the door was slammed open. “What’s going on?” Mello’s tone was stern but concerned and his shoulders tensed as he slowly stood up.

Matt gulped and ran gloved fingers through ruffled hair from the humidity, but quickly and commandingly answered. “You need to get home. Now.”

Mello, in hearing the redhead’s rare tone, instantly moved to act on his best friend’s words, but his squinting and slightly confused eyes prompted Matt to continue, to which only three words followed.

It only took a moment for him to process before his heart sunk into his stomach and his blue eyes grew ice cold. He ripped his leather jacket on, holstered his weapon, and fisted the keys to his bike, briefly glancing down as he tightly gripped one particular keychain on the carabiner. His heart was racing at a faster tempo than his feet carried him into the alley and “No…” was the only word repeating in his head.

“They found you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While running to their respective motor vehicles, Matt had filled him in on what little details he could. Mello was aware that a rival group had been on a manhunt for him since one of his first jobs went sideways, but that was years ago. Since then, he had been even more careful about the paper trail he left behind him. But it was still likely he had slipped up at some point. His sleep deprivation must’ve been beginning to add up. Damn it. This was all his fault, he thought. He would’ve continued to beat himself up about it, but he knew right now there was a larger issue at hand. He needed to get home to her.

…

“You are such a hypocrite, you know that?” she screamed at him.

Mello wanted to shout a response, but he only rolled his eyes and threw his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“You don’t get it. You are going to get yourself killed!”

“It’s fine. I’m alive now, aren’t I?” Mello retorted.

“Oh, don’t you dare play that game with me you son-of-a-bitch. Half of your old mafia buddies weren’t so lucky! What if I had to look into your lifeless eyes? What if you had to look into Matt’s?”

Mello rolled his eyes again and thought to himself, “I really can pick ‘em, can’t I?” but his thought was interrupted by a painful stinging smack across his face.

“Hey!” Mello was startled, “What the fuck was that for?”

She glared back at him beginning to ramble. She always did when she was anxious. “Don’t you dare go blaming this on me! I have been so worried…”

Mello had had enough of the talking. He cupped her jaw to guide his lips to hers and cut off her verbal spiral with a kiss. She stopped, dumbfounded. And when they parted, stared into his sincere eyes. Mello sighed and spoke soft and apologetically.

“To be honest…” he paused, trying to pry the words out, “I was terrified.” He looked down at his feet, “When my plan went south, I didn’t know if I was going to have another chance to do that,” he looked longingly at her pink parted lips, “ever again.” Her eyes softened a bit, but only slightly. Mello sighed. Hating the sincerity that he had unintentionally spoke into existence, he attempted to lighten the mood. “Well… now I know, when life gives you lemons…” he chuckled and leaned in to kiss her again.

She begrudgingly accepted and suppressed a giggle in response. “If anything, you’re the lemon here, Mr. Lemonhead. One moment you’re all bitter and pessimistic, and in the next you act like nothing has ever phased you in your life.”

“And that makes me a lemon?” Mello played along.

“Obviously, blondie!” motioning to his head as she tucked a lock of his golden hair behind his ear. She then paused with a pondering look. “Well, that and you always taste of the bittersweet cocoa from nibbling on bars of your dark chocolate all the damn time.”

Mello gazed up into her eyes. He firmly placed his hand on the nape of her neck and pulled her in, this time lingering for a deeper kiss. “Well, do you like how I taste?” He winked.

“You son-of-a-bitch” she teased, playfully punching his shoulder, and briefly kissing him back before whispering in his ear, “But yeah, I do. You’re my little lemon boy,” and pushing him away, clearly still a little upset from the earlier argument.

It was in that moment, seeing her walk away slightly defeated, that Mello swore he would protect them both. He knew they would come after him, but, as long as he was careful, he could keep them both safe. He could do it. He had to.

Months passed and Mello found himself finally returning home after weeks of being away. He couldn't stay in one spot for long or else they’d track him down. He hated being away from her, but it was the only way to keep her safe. As usual, it was late, about 4AM. Typical for the time he would usually return to the apartment. Mello walked up the frozen steps and quietly unlocked the deadbolted door, waving to Matt to thank him as he drove away. The 400 square foot studio apartment wasn’t much, but it was all they could afford, and yet, it was home. Their home, together.

He slid off and shook out his red jacket. It had been snowing on his way home. He hung it up on the wall and turned to toss his keys in the bowl on the counter, but something caught his eye in the moonlit room. There was something already in the bowl. He stepped closer to investigate. There he found a note.

"Happy Birthday, Mels! Here's a lemonhead for my lemon boy!" He furrowed his brows and looked at the calendar on the fridge. Right. It was his birthday. How typical it was of him to forget. How on earth did she always remember? He looked over to the bed in the corner of the room. She was sound asleep. Yet Mello got the feeling in his gut that she was somehow restless.

Mello turned back and picked the object out of the bowl. It was a keychain. The charm was cheap but sturdy, made of yellow plastic and small, about the size of a walnut shell. But it was in fact the shape of a lemon. He spun it around scrutinizing the charm in his fingers. A small caricature of a face revealed itself. It was a lemonhead. He smiled. Why was he smiling?

He paused, thinking. Maybe he was beginning to understand… and was possibly even happy being lemon boy… or rather… her lemon boy.

Mello slid the keychain onto his carabiner and threw the union of the two back into the bowl. The note, he posted on the fridge under a magnet before tiptoeing his way over to the bed. He slid under the heavy blankets and wrapped his arms around her.

Recognizing his touch in her sleep, she turned toward him with eyes clenched shut. Oh, how he wished she would open them. The moonlight always reflected off them with such beauty. She was sleeping, but uneasy. A nightmare, perhaps? No. Just anxious, he concluded, not that this realization made him feel any better about witnessing her distressed state. But all she did was cup a cold shaking hand on his cheek and nestle herself under his chin, her head on his heart. She was warm, but shivering. Mello held her tighter waiting and watching until her eyes relaxed, transforming her shallow gasps to deep breaths, and letting her body melt beside his.

Mello smiled and whispered into her hair, “Your lemon boy is home.”

…

The traffic was heavy, Mello thought. Or maybe that was how it normally was at this time of day in the city. But traffic always seems to be heavier when you have somewhere to be, and especially when it’s a race against the clock. He turned his head and confirmed that Matt was indeed driving behind him on the road in his red Camaro. But this traffic! He didn’t have time for this. “Fuck it!” he shouted, muffled by his helmet, and turned onto the shoulder of the highway before kicking up his legs up onto their pedals, his gloved hand throttling the accelerator as far as it would go.

The initial panic that had manifested in his chest passed which meant he was focused. He needed to get home as fast as he could and at any cost. He skillfully wound his bike between the moving cars, cutting off a few drivers in the process, and receiving multiple loud and aggressive honks in response. Usually, he would’ve flipped them off or at least responded with a dangerous glare in their direction, but that didn’t matter now. Not since she was in trouble. “Damn it!” he yelled once more. “I don’t have time for this!”

His method of navigation had left Matt miles behind him, but at least he would be able to make it home sooner. Mello tried to prevent his mind from wandering, but it was too gut-wrenchingly easy to imagine what they would do to her. Memories of that botched job from years ago began to crowd his imagination. His mind filled with the images of lifeless eyes of his past crew who had died at their hands. But as he accelerated around the last turn, he blinked and slightly shook his head as if to shake off the memory like a bug on his helmet visor. “Focus,” he assured himself. But that half-hearted attempt to calm himself was useless once the door to his… their home came into view.

The door! The door was left open. Not all the way, but enough to provide evidence that this was not just a nightmare. He was tired of suffering so many of those too, and though he never enjoyed them, this was the only moment he prayed that he was dreaming in one right now, because she would be there when he woke up.

…

Out of the darkness that was consuming him, Mello was suddenly pulled toward a light by the sound of a woman’s voice and a feeling of being abruptly and violently shaken.

“Mels, focus on my voice! You need to wake up! You need to breathe. Breathe, Mihael! Breathe!”

Mello shot out of bed faster than a bolt of lightning. He frantically stood up as if he was readying himself for a fight and looking around the room seemingly searching for the source of the disturbance. His center of balance low and his fists raised in preparation to defend himself at all costs. His adrenaline was pumping. His head was pounding. His pulse was sprinting. He struggled to breathe, and he couldn’t quite make out where he was. Where had they taken him? Or was he already dead. Was this hell?

“Mels! MELS, it’s me! Wake up! Please wake up!” The woman’s voice was shaken but determined. It nearly sounded like she was holding back tears, but Mello couldn’t discern for certain. “Mello! You are dreaming! You need to wake up! Everything is going to be okay!”

Mello blinked a few more times to slowly regain his bearings as he fully woke up and realized he was in no real danger. He hesitantly lowered his fists, relaxed his tightened muscles, and let out a gasp for air that he felt like he was holding for an eternity. He looked down to his feet standing barefoot on the chilly vinyl floor. The cold was comforting, something real, something he could feel. His tunnel vison was slowly fading. He looked up, locking eyes with hers.

She was sitting up on the bed on her heels with one arm outstretched toward him and one gripping the sheets to keep her balance. Concern was clearly written in the beautiful moonlit glint in her eyes. Mello thought he noticed a tear. It was unusual to see her cry in front of him, or anyone really. They both had that in common. As well as their stubborn disposition and volatile temper. Except she had a larger capacity for empathy. Why she put up with Mello, he would never logically understand fully. Maybe that’s why they were suited for one another. But his thoughts were soon whisked away as she leaped out of the bed and flung herself around him, consoling him in a warm embrace.

“It’s ok Mels, I’ve got you,” she quietly reassured him. Mello’s startled gaze, which was slowly softening, met her kind eyes as she gingerly brought her hand up and combed her fingers through the sweat beads on his knotted blond bangs, only stopping to cup his cheek in her hand. She stared warmly into his cool deep blue eyes, almost melting them. “My lemon boy,” she sweetly muttered as she smiled with beaming eyes. “There’s that sweet face!” she paused, “I hate to see you so bitter.”

Mello kept her gaze and responded with the smallest of smiles only noticeable by one raised corner of his lips. He saw a shimmer of moonlight on her lashes. It was a tear after all. Maybe that was why he was blinking back moisture as well. His eyes must really have been melting. She always was the only warmth that could do ever that. Her tears were rare, but he hated when she did let them out. She let out a sigh and lowered her forehead until it was resting on his shoulder. She was still trying to protect him.

Mello was still a little dazed and trying to catch his breath. Though he was not usually one for physical affection, part of him was always comforted by her warm and protective arms. This wasn’t the first time he was jarred awake from a panic-inducing nightmare, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yet she was always there to help him out of it. Always. Part of Mello hoped she always would be. But for a man with a dangerous life like Mello, “always” wasn’t a privilege he could ever be sure to expect or promise to anyone else. So, he lay back down in bed with her and tried to focus on “the now” as she always told him. That was the only thing worth living in for the moment being. The future was always so uncertain. He hated that.

After getting settled back under the sheets, he turned to face her, reaching his arms out in a similar protective embrace, her back molded into his chest, holding onto her like his life depended on it. In a way it did. “Thank you,” he finally spoke.

She did not respond, but instead grabbed his forearm that was holding her, squeezed in acknowledgement, and pleasantly let out a sigh. Small wordless smiles could be seen on both their faces as her fingers reassuringly found Mello’s own, allowing them to both find enough comfort in each other’s touch to fall back asleep.

…

Mello hurriedly parked his bike and removed his black helmet revealing sweaty and matted hair. This was no nightmare. This was real life. As if to double check that fact one last time, Mello yanked off his gloves and felt the hot metal of his bike, palm down, burning him. That was real, painfully real.

He bolted up the stairs and sprinted apprehensively through the cracked door. The sight that awaited him should only have been seen in a nightmare. It was maybe even too gruesome for that either. But, like the bitingly cold vinyl, and burning hot metal. It was real.

Mello scanned every inch of the room. Furniture was tossed, glass was shattered, there were smoking holes in the walls, and the worst of it all was the blood on the floor. It was pooling and expanding at an alarming rate. And at the source was the worst nightmare Mello could ever have. She was near unconscious, leaning up against the bullet-ridden wall for support.

Time nearly stopped. But Mello pushed on. He had to save her. He had to save his “always.” This was the only chance he had, and it was fading as rapidly as the blood pool expanded. Everything felt to be happening in slow motion. While rushing over to her, Mello managed to dial 911 on his cell, mentioned an address, and then tossed the phone aside. He ran to her body, carefully supporting her head and lifting her up into his arms. She still had a pulse, but it was faint. Mello sat in the crimson pool and adjusted her head on his elbow as carefully as if he was holding an infant. Mello held onto her like her life depended on it.

The sudden adjustment of her body had woken her up. The pain and panic in her eyes was just as evident to Mello as the viscous pool of her blood he was now soaked in.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. Just listen to my voice,” Mello said, attempting to be reassuring.

“Mels,” her weak voice struggled to squeeze out his name. “You’re here.” She smiled, her hand reaching out for him. Her fingers still traced the same path as always, delicately combing his sweaty bangs out of his face and then finally resting to cup his cheek. This time, Mello couldn’t help but melt into her hand and close his eyes.

“My lemon boy,” she breathily whispered. Mello opened his wet eyes as she shakily forced another smile. “Promise me you’ll stay my bittersweet lemon boy.” Mello couldn’t reply. He was trying so hard to choke back tears. “We’re gonna live forever, you and me, remember?” she took another labored breath. “But maybe just not right away,” she said, lowering her hand from his face and reaching for his rosary.

Mello helped her clasp the crucifix of the necklace in her hand as he leaned down to kiss her fingers. Her eyes were beginning to get cloudy. Mello hated that he knew what would come next, and what always happened next. But what he hated even more was that there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

Seemingly reading his mind, she dropped the rosary and returned her hand to its home on his cheek, her eyes looking deep into his teary icy blues. They were fully melting now, transforming from glaciers to a warm and salty sea. But Mello kept his eyes fixed on hers. Somehow some light had returned to them, though her consciousness was fading and the last of her sparkling soul was leaking out.

She inhaled, “When you dream, I want you to remember this,” her fingers resting on his face tapped his temple. “Remember us. But remember this was real. It may only become a memory, but it happened,” she paused. “We happened.” Mello saw moisture in her eyes. “And I wouldn’t trade one second of it.” She gasped, trying with great difficulty to take in a breath.

“Mels…” Slightly uncertain, but recognizing her limited time, she continued. “…I love you.”

Mello might as well have been one with that puddle of blood since he felt as such. His heart felt a suffocating pressure and piercing pain nothing could relieve. All he could do was hold her. So he did. Like his life depended on it. The tears were raining from his face now. Some droplets pattering into the puddle he sat in, and some baptized her cheek. But between muffled sobs and hitched breaths, he was somehow able to whimper his confession. “I love you too.”

Again, and without looking, his hand briefly grabbed the lemon keychain on his keys, before resting his hand on hers and leaning more into her touch on his face.

A tear swelled in her eye, threatening to drop. She smiled and took a labored breath before faintly uttering into Mello’s ear, “My little lemon boy…” And with that, the tear, which had stolen the last of the light from her eyes and her soul with it, fell. Just as the warmth of her hand fell from Mello’s cheek and she let out a long deflating exhale.

The world stopped. Who knows how much time had passed until Matt found them. Mello sure as hell didn’t.

Matt’s tires squealed and sirens blared outside seconds before he came running in alongside the paramedics, shoving them out of the way. He found Mello in a state he would never soon forget. Faintly crying and rocking her lifeless body, cursing his inability to protect her. And worst of all, staring into her eyes, devoid of all light, and praying that it was all a dream.

The passage of time in Mello’s mind for the next few hours seemed both instantaneous and stagnant at the same time. Impossibly slow but also over in a flash. Matt and Mello were ushered outside as the EMT’s did their jobs. Somehow, they made it to the coroner’s office. Mello couldn’t remember how. All he could see were her eyes. Or at least what was left of them in his memory. They talked to some people. Nurses? Doctors maybe? Who knows? Matt did all the talking while Mello was struggling to cling onto the reality that he no longer wished to be a part of.

Once they were finished, Mello wandered outside. Matt followed close behind. Giving him some space to do whatever he needed. They wandered to a park on the edge of the city. There was no one around, but Matt recognized it as where Mello had met her. Matt had never been here, but Mello talked about that day all the time in such surprising detail that he almost felt like he was there witnessing their beginnings with them.

A gust of wind blew into Mello’s face. Clouds had rolled in, so the temperature had dropped significantly, and the breeze felt nice on his skin. He stopped and closed his eyes. Focusing on the realness of the cool feeling. When the breeze died down a bit, he kept wandering.

Matt stood behind Mello, who had found a spot to sit on the curb of a walking trail and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mello shook it off without even so much as looking up at him. His gaze was miles long as he denied his grief. “This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning.”

“Mello…” Matt was about to go on.

“Shut it, Mail!”

Matt did as he was asked.

“She was dead the moment I met her. I knew that. But I was too naive to accept it. This is my penance.” He paused. “‘Always’? pfft… what a fucking joke of a word.”

Mello then frantically stood up. His center of balance low and his fists raised toward the empty air in front of him. “Please let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up! I want to wake up!” he screamed at the clouds in the sky. His melted eyes were leaking again. Those salty seas flowed into tiny capillary rivers down his cheeks where her hand used to touch him.

“Mello.” Matt grabbed his shoulder again.

Mello acknowledged him this time. But he turned on his heels and punched Matt square in the chest before taking off into an exasperated sprint down the trail. As he ran, he silently continued to cry, wiping the tears with the back of his hand to clear his blurred vision. He kept running. And running and running. Continuing to sprint even after his quivering gasps sounded like the last of hers.

Upon nearly passing out, he eventually approached a river. It was almost overflowing from the summer’s thunderstorms. Even now it looked as if it was about to rain soon. He slowed down as he neared the riverbank. The jarred jingle of his keys from his halt had caught his attention. He looked down to the carabiner on his belt loop.

Mello’s cracked and broken heart, failing to be held together, finally exploded into countless piercing shards of glass.

He ripped the carabiner off the leather belt loop of his pants, eyes piercing down at the lemon keychain. Frantically he removed it from the carabiner and brought his fist behind his head, preparing to launch it downstream. But before his arm could swing, Matt had tackled him.

“Mello, STOP!” Matt grabbed the wrist holding the keychain. “What are you doing?!”

“She’s gone, Matt! She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. And I never want to see her again. I want to forget she ever existed! I don’t want to see her eyes in my mind anymore. Take that memory away from me!” Mello screamed so loud his voice was beginning to crack. But maybe that was also because he was failing to hold back tears.

“I know. But why do you want to forget her so quickly?”

“Matt, you’re a smart bastard. Use that brain of yours. Figure it out on your own! Now let go of my hand, you asshole!”

Matt only gripped tighter.

“Mail! Let GO!”

“Mello…”

“Fuck off! Why can’t you go away and let me be?”

“Mels, there’s something you need to know.”

Mello briefly stopped resisting. “Yeah?!” he responded, antagonistically.

“Listen, you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

Mello snorted and replied in a sarcastic tone, “Oh no! Don’t ruin my day, it’s not like it hasn’t been unbearable enough!”

Matt let go of Mello’s wrist and just stared at him, a horrified face with the same expression, Mello noticed, as when he saw him earlier that day.

Mello, for what was probably the first and only time in his life, shut himself up.

“It isn’t your fault.” Mello was going to snort a reply but Matt continued, “Mels, it’s not your fault she was killed. It’s mine.”

Mello froze, expressionless.

“She wanted to surprise you…”

Mello’s face was heating up.

“…and she wanted my help,” Matt continued.

What was he saying?

“Look at the keychain.” He pointed toward Mello’s hand.

“Stop your fucking mind games, Matt, I don’t want to…”

“Damn it, Mels!!!” Matt yelled, “For once in your godforsaken life just listen to me. Look at her fucking keychain! Really look!”

Mello looked down at the keychain, eyes wide, scrutinizing it harder than on his birthday when he returned home. In the darkness in which he discovered the gift, he never noticed the seam in the plastic. He squeezed it and it popped open. Inside was another note, on the same paper from that day, wrapped around a lemon-yellow plastic ring, like one of those 25 cent ones from an arcade.

“Life is bitter, but you make it sweet. Mels, my bittersweet little lemon boy. Will you marry me?”

There was not a word that followed. Only silence. Mello collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t breathe initially, but once the trapped air found an opening from his lungs, the blood-curdling sob that ripped through his vocal cords scared all the pigeons in the area enough to immediately fly away. Matt ran over attempting to comfort his best friend but stopped in his tracks when Mello suddenly went silent,

“Matt.” He looked up at him. His glassy, tear-filled eyes were thin, piercing, accusing.

“Mels, you’re scaring me.”

Mello continued, still melted into the ground, “I think you ought to tell me…”

“What…?”

“You need to tell me what happened.” He paused. “You said this was your fault.”

Matt gulped.

Mello stood. “What did you mean?”

“Mels…”

Mello spat in his face, “WHAT DID YOU MEAN!” At this moment, in a spur of adrenaline and hopelessness, Mello remembered his gun holstered on his shoulder, and drew it. He immediately pointed it at Matt. “Tell me what happened. Now.” He mimicked Matt’s commanding tone from many hours earlier. It was time for Matt to get a taste of his own medicine.

“Mello, think about this. Put the gun down. Just put the gun down.”

“Do you think I have anything left to lose? Tell me what they did to her!”

Seeing no other option, and gutted that Mello no longer seemed to value his oldest friend, Matt inhaled and began. “As you saw, she had plans to propose to you. She’d been planning it for months. And she wanted my help.”

The expression of flaming jealousy on Mello’s face was evident.

“Oh, Mello… you know in your heart it’s not like that.” Matt tilted his head, spilling with disappointment. “I’ve known you since we both used to sneak out of Wammy’s House to steal from the candy shop down the street when we were 8. Do you remember that? Don’t tell me you’ve lost faith in me now.” Matt was almost in tears himself.

“You’re not finished. Keep explaining.” Mello took a step closer with his weapon.

Matt obliged. “After months of preparation at the apartment, we had a whole extravagant plan all set up for you.” He paused and looked down. “Mels, you would’ve loved it. But as usual for our unfortunate lives, things didn’t go according to plan. One of those days I met with her, I must’ve been followed… by them… because right before I ran to see you earlier today, I got a call from her. And I…” Matt’s voice dissolved. He couldn’t keep going.

“And you what? What did you hear?” Mello prodded him more, shaking the pistol at him. The tone in his voice was terrifyingly angry but his expression was utterly heartbroken.

Matt spoke though his tears. “I don’t know what they did to her, but part of me doesn’t want to. She was screaming. Crying. Calling out for you. Praying you would swoop in guns ablaze and save her. But then suddenly there was silence, and the line cut out. And all I could do was nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. That’s when I ran to get you.”

“Mello, I’m so sorry.” Matt was losing control, “This was… was all… all my fault.” Matt broke, crumbling to the ground under the realization that he had gotten her killed. And the worst part was that he might have lost his lifelong friend as well. “Mello, you know I’ve never been as diligent as you. Even back at Wammy’s that was the case. I fucked up, I know.”

Mello had a death threat written in his growing pitch-black pupils. He strutted closer to Matt and put the barrel of the gun right up to his forehead. “You. You got her killed. This is your penance.”

Matt looked up at Mello. “I did. I was the one who got her killed. And I will never forgive myself for that.”

Mello cocked the hammer of the weapon.

Matt’s mind had come to a surprising conclusion. That he deserved to die for his carelessness. He didn’t want to, but it was a sacrifice he would willing give to his best friend.

Mello put his finger on the trigger.

“Do it.” Matt whispered.

Mello hesitated.

Matt finally spoke what he had been thinking. “It’s okay, Mels. This is what I deserve.” Matt looked up at Mello and closed his wet and swollen eyes, accepting his fate.

Mello counted down in his head.

“3” Something about this felt wrong, but what else was he supposed to do?

“2” She was gone, this was the only way to put things right. Right?

“1” No. There was only one way to put things back to the way he wanted them to be...well, almost.

“0” Ok, now. Mello’s finger began to tighten around the trigger, but not before he pointed the barrel under his own chin.

“Mels, no!” Matt, in feeling the firearm move from his head, instinctually and in one swift motion stood and grabbed Mello’s arm at the wrist and yanked it away, angling the barrel forward and away from Mello’s head before he could realize, let alone react.

BANG!!!

Mello, with his eyes still closed, was stunned. Frozen. In shock. Still slightly dissociated from the pain of reality. He was still alive. Why? He was beyond confused. Everything had happened so fast. He had expected the be consumed by the darkness of his nightmares by now. Or at the very least be writhing in bloodied pain on the ground. But he was fine. Somehow, he was fine.

Slowly, he came back to his senses and opened his eyes. Mello saw Matt’s terrified face and realized what had happened. In an effort to save Mello from his impulsive decisions, as Matt did often, he had also saved his life. The barrel of the gun was angled up. Matt was hugging Mello’s forearm to his chest, pointing the barrel of the gun up into the air. Seeing that angle, Mello had realized that in firing the weapon the bullet had grazed Matt’s ear. Only an inch to the left and it would’ve taken his ear clean off. Three inches over and it would’ve killed him.

Matt knew logically his ear had been injured, but he was too preoccupied by the high of adrenaline to register any feeling, including pain. Or even to notice the ringing in his left ear. A few droplets of crimson dripped from his ear onto Mello's hand at a steady pace, resembling the accelerated rate of his short, shallow, and hyperventilating breaths. For the two of them, time froze.

Surprisingly, Mello was the first to break the silence. "It should've been me," he choked out.

Matt slowly massaged Mello's hand to loosen his grip on the handle.

"It was supposed to be me." His eyes sunk down, defeated. "Matty, it should've been me."

Matt interrupted, "But it wasn't." He gingerly removed the firearm from Mello's grasp.

"Huh?"

"It wasn't you. And regardless of who it should’ve been, you are the one standing here in front of me. You. Not her."

Mello sunk to the ground once again, but slowly this time as if not to disturb the ground below.

Matt kneeled to join him at his sunken level. He continued. "As much as we both didn’t, and don’t want to accept it, she's gone, and you are the one left to remember her. What do you think she would say about this insane, and frankly idiotic, plan of yours? Your initial intention to kill me? Or to kill yourself? How dare you! How dare you, Mels! She loved you more than you will ever understand, and this is how you treat her memory?"

"I do understand."

"No you don't. If you loved her the way she did to you, you wouldn't have forced yourself to make a reckless choice like that. Newsflash! It shouldn't have even been a decision that ever crossed your mind.”

Mello knew he had a point even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Think about it. Shoot yourself? You would've left me all alone. Fine, but a real dick move, Mels.” He paused. “But now think about if you chose me. You would have to face the world on your own from here on out. A world where both she and I would be gone.” Matt took a breath to slow the pace of his words. “I hope you really understand that I love you too, Mels. Not in the way that she did, but goddamn it you are basically my brother.”

Mello could never remember having family, but maybe he could see Matt as his brother.

“Please just let me help you! You've always had the smartest and quickest mind, second only to Near, but I’m the one who figured out how to keep those gears up there oiled and turning." He gestured toward Mello's temple.

Mello was re-remembering all the occasions Matt had been there for him.

Every time he failed to score better than Near on an exam at Wammy's, Matt kept encouraging him to study harder.

After they ran away, every time he picked a fight in the underground too large for him to handle alone, Matt was always there to back him up.

And every time he couldn't comprehend his feelings, especially those for her, Matt would sit awake with him into the earliest hours of the morning and help him talk it out until he calmed down. Mello stopped. Did he take him for granted?

"I know you better than you know yourself. Maybe even better than she did. Though likely not by much." Matt half-heartily laughed but continued. "I’m aware I can't tell you what to do from here, you've never let anyone boss you around including me, I know. But now you need to make another choice." Matt outstretched both hands. One holding the gun, one holding the open keychain. "Decide. And by God, remember her when you do."

Mello eyed both his options but hesitated. Not because he needed more time to decide, but instead because he knew what he really wanted was not something Matt would take too well.

Matt forced the options closer to Mello. Matt could see those well-oiled gears turning at full speed.

Mello reconsidered. The keychain or the gun? Should he force himself to remember her or choose to forget? Should he choose to take Matt's hand and continue fighting, or end it all? Right here, right now. Living without her would be so hard, so painful. But would that be preferable to those memories of her ceasing to exist? The gears in his brain were turning so fast the friction was burning in his head.

"And Mello," his thought process was interrupted by Matt’s words, "if you choose what I know you want to, I will have no choice but to say goodbye and leave you here. For good. If you are that broken and helpless, there’s nothing I can do to help fix you. If you choose that gun, I know you don't even want to fix yourself.”

The gears somehow were turning faster. The heat was becoming unbearable.

Matt continued. “But don't you dare admit to me you are broken beyond repair. Is this how the one and only Mihael Keehl goes out? Not fighting the fight, but by his own hand? And out of what? Shame? Guilt? Pain? You were the unquenchable flame that all the oceans could never suffocate. The fighting spirit even the slimmest of odds couldn't deter. And the one friend I had that never once gave up, and by proxy helped me to do the same.”

Mello had never heard Matt speak to him like this before.

“Don't become a hypocrite to the lessons you taught me, instead let me teach you one in return. The Mello I knew wouldn't give up. He would never even consider it. But the question is, does he even exist anymore?"

Mello looked up to his best friend’s hopeful glare. The heat in his head was burning through to his eyes. He had decided.

Glancing between both of Matt’s outstretched hands, he stood up and took one.

Matt returned a faint and relieved smile and fisted the choice into Mello’s palm. Mello clung to it, crushingly, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He was hoping, and most importantly choosing, to remember her. Not the way the light left her eyes and the way her story ended, but the way the light in her eyes was always there until then. He would remember the whole story of them starting from the very beginning and in this very park. How poetic. Even then her eyes would beam at him every time she looked into his, and especially every time he came home late from a long stretch away from home.

The memory of her lively eyes coupled with the reflection of the moonlight that brought her beauty to a heart-stopping height was now his drug. It was his medicine to keep him fighting. To fight the pain he felt in experiencing those memories, but choosing to embrace them anyway.

Her words ran around his mind

"We’re gonna live forever, you and me, remember?"

Mello decided he wasn't ready to give up on that yet. He may not have been a man who could expect forever, but he could damn well fight for it. And he would. Until his very last moment.

Matt draped the arm of Mello's exhausted frame over his shoulders, careful not to touch his wounded ear. The two of them walked toward home, just as it began to rain, cleansing the way for a new beginning for them both.

…

Years later, as Mello sat in the driver’s seat of the semi and Kiyomi Takada was stuck suspiciously quiet in the trailer in the back, he watched consequences of their kidnapping plan unfold on the small monitor sitting on the dash.

The red Camaro came to a spinning and squealing halt on the highway, surrounded by Takada’s armed bodyguards. Matt exited the car. Mello couldn’t make out what Matt said once he put his hands up to surrender but he hoped it wasn’t something cocky again. But before he could even complete the thought, a shower of gunfire ripped through Matt’s body. And he fell. He was left bloody and mangled on the street. And that cigarette that always seemed to be in his mouth finally fell to the asphalt and went out.

He knew this plan was suicide, but somehow, they both had naively hoped for better.

"…Matt. I didn't think they'd kill you… I'm so sorry."

He continued driving, obsessively rubbing his thumb on the inside of his left ring finger.

His mind wandered slightly. With Matt now also gone, his thoughts also drifted to her.

"I wonder what you're doing right now," he murmured remembering and hoping that she'd still want a forever with him after everything he'd done. These thoughts continued to meander as his drove. But eventually they were abruptly interrupted.

*Thump THUMP*

Mello knew exactly what this meant. "A heart attack!? …Kira. But how?” Mello’s eyes once again grew wide, but he almost smiled this time.

"I guess I'll get to find out what you’re up to soon enough." He answered his own question from earlier. He struggled to remove his glove to expose the fingers on his left hand and then fully smiled

"I can't wait to see you again," he spoke sweetly to the ring on his finger, his eyes staying locked onto the plastic charm on its yellow band. He'd worn it ever since that day. And he wanted it to be the last thing his eyes ever saw.

As if in a morbid game of tag, the darkness Mello had been running from in his nightmares finally caught up and consumed him. He fell forward, unable to handle the wheel, crashing the semi into an abandoned church just off the side of the road. Though his body was going limp and muscles relaxed, he kept his gaze on the ring, hoping… no… praying he would get to see her eyes again.

The darkness had fully engulfed him now, but it wasn't as suffocating as he remembered in his dreams. Instead of cold restraint, it felt like a hot embrace, almost welcoming.

Maybe Mello was falling asleep. Or maybe he was waking up. Who knows. But either way one thing was for certain, her lemon boy was finally coming home… forever.

109 notes · View notes

sugarandspace · 3 years

Text

Don't Fall in Love There's Just Too Much to Lose (Buddie)

Summary: Eddie's rescue, the aftermath, and a hell of a lot of feelings.

Warnings: near-death experience

A/N: I started this fic in March. It was supposed to be just a short 2k thing but then it kept growing and growing and Buck just wouldn't stop thinking. Then uni got in the way of writing, then work and my million other WIPs. Special shoutout to my friends Spark and Emryn who have patiently listened to me talk about this fic and who have always been so encouraging! Not sure if I would have ever actually finished this fic without you two 💙

Title from Terrible Things by Mayday Parade!

AO3

They are standing around the map just like they were a few hours earlier, trying to find clues of potential tunnels underground. It’s so much like earlier, but at the same time it’s not, because there’s one person missing from around the table and Buck feels that empty space like it’s a physical ache, a feeling he hasn’t been able to shake since he felt the weight leave the rope earlier when Eddie cut it and let himself fall.

“How about there?” Buck asks and points at a part on the map. He ignores the way his voice comes out hoarse but he can’t ignore the bloody mark that stains the white paper. He’s about to pull his hand back but Hen is quicker, taking his hand to hers.

“When did you get hurt?” She asks but he pulls his hand back.

“I’m fine,” he says and turns back towards the table and the people who had stopped talking and had turned their attention to him, “We have more important things to worry about.”

“Buckaroo,” Hen tries, her voice annoyingly gentle. Buck’s heard her use that tone with patients on the field and he hates that Hen thinks he’s fragile enough to need that tone.

“I said I’m fine!” Buck repeats. He hates to raise his voice at Hen but he needs her to remember that it’s not him they need to worry about. Everyone’s attention should be on Eddie and how to get him safely back because Buck refuses to think about anything else being a possibility.

“Fine,” Hen agrees. “But as soon as we have a plan you’re following me to the bathroom where I’m going to clean and wrap your hands.”

Buck gives her a tense nod, knowing that he can’t escape it and needing the conversation to end as soon as possible so that they can go back to planning.

They do, and they talk about thermal cameras and searching the surrounding area in hopes of finding another well. Buck’s hands curl into fists and he focuses on the feeling of grains of sand stinging in the broken skin of his fingertips, clinging to the moment of clarity it gives to his mind. The moment he lets them wander his thoughts go to what-ifs and Christopher and the pressure of tons of wet sand and the damage it can do to a fragile human body and he can’t afford that now.

He focuses on his turnout gear, his coat wet and heavy, trying to weigh his shoulders down. He squares his shoulders and ignores the way his shirt clings to his back from where the water has dripped down past the collar of his coat. He’s a professional and they have work to do.

-.-.-

When the rest of the team disperses to get everything ready, Hen makes sure of her promise and drags Buck to the downstairs bathroom. It looks clean and Buck feels sorry for being there, his clothes no doubt leaving mud all over the white tile. Hen doesn’t seem to have any problem with that, and she puts the small medkit she was carrying on the counter next to the sink.

“Now let me see those hands,” she says as she pulls a pair of gloves on.

Buck knows it’s useless to argue, so he puts his hands in front of himself, palms up so Hen can see the extent of the damage. There’s sand under his nails, one of his already short nails has broken, and the skin of his fingertips is rubbed raw. Back when he was frantically trying to dig Eddie from the ground with his bare hands, he hadn’t paid attention to how hard he was pressing against the rough ground and how the small rocks had broken the skin of his ungloved hands. The pain hadn’t even registered then, his mind too occupied with panic.

“Okay,” Hen says and guides the hands under the faucet, using warm water to wash the sand away. “The cuts don’t look deep, so I’m going to clean them and wrap them so we can go back to helping Eddie.”

“I can do it myself,” Buck says. He knows that there’s little they can do until the thermal cameras are ready, but he hates to hold Hen here when she would be more needed out there.

Hen makes a noncommittal noise and continues washing Buck’s hands, and Buck doesn’t fight her.

“How are you feeling?” Hen asks, and really, Buck should have expected this.

“I’m fine,” he says, a familiar line to leave his lips. “I can barely feel them.”

“I didn’t mean your hands, Buck,” Hen says kindly. “I know how much he means to you.”

No, you don’t, Buck wants to say. No one knows, and while he used to be happy about being able to keep it a secret, the thought that Eddie might never get to know it now kills him. While a big part of Buck’s mind has always been convinced that it could never happen, that telling Eddie would just mean making their friendship weird, there’s also always been this tiny part of his heart that is optimistic, that thinks that his feelings could be reciprocated. Maybe, just maybe the small things that hint towards it haven’t just been Buck seeing things where there’s nonthing to be seen. Maybe they’ve been more.

Now he fears that in his attempt to guard that part of his heart, he might have missed out on something wonderful.

He bites the inside of his cheek so as not to fall apart. The situation doesn’t allow him to be anything but fine.

“He’s my best friend,” Buck says, wincing a little as Hen dries his hands and the paper towel brushes against the small wounds. “He’s my partner and it’s my job to have his back when we’re on the field.”

It’s quiet for a while, save for the small hiss Buck lets out when Hen disinfects the wounds.

“Eddie cut that rope himself,” Hen reminds him as she starts wrapping his hands. She places small gauze swabs against his fingertips and secures them to place with a roll of gauze. Buck is aware that his fingers start to resemble that of a mummy’s, but when the thought would usually have led to jokes, it doesn’t even bring a smile to his lips now. “He did it to be able to save that small boy. Because that’s what he’s like. You know what else he’s like? He’s tough, and I know he’ll do his best to get back.”

Buck doesn’t trust his voice, so he nods. Hen must sense that Buck’s not up for more talking because they spend the rest of the time it takes for her to wrap his hands in comfortable silence.

“I want you to keep these on the rest of the time we’re working outside,” Hen says and hands her own work gloves to Buck. To be fair, Buck has no idea where he’s left his own pair. “We can’t have the dressings getting wet or dirty.”

Buck thanks her quietly and pulls the gloves on, careful not to pull the gauze away. When he’s done Hen pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go find Eddie.”

-.-.-

Buck’s mind is somber as he stands outside, listening to Bobby brief everyone on what they are going to do. He already knows his task and can’t help but let his mind wander to how Eddie might be right below them as they speak and if he is, what state he’s in. Buck ignores the thoughts of him laying there motionless and focuses on breathing deeply as he thinks of how they are going to find him and how Hen and Chimney are going to help him with whatever injuries he might have sustained while down there. He doesn’t let himself feel anything but determination.

He feels all his breath leave his body when he hears a familiar voice and sees Eddie stumbling into their circle. He’s by his side in an instant, helping him stay upright as he struggles to walk.

There are so many words Buck wants to say to Eddie, a ‘I love you so much never do that to me again' on the forefront of his mind, ready to leave his lips any minute he stops paying attention to where they are and how there are a million reasons he shouldn’t. It’s just that Eddie is there and Buck is holding his hand and while the hand is cold the fingers are squeezing Buck’s hand back with a sure grip.

Eddie is safe and making jokes about having an important meeting on Friday and Buck feels like he could cry as he and Hen help Eddie to the ambulance where Chimney is already waiting for them.

Buck gives them space as Eddie sits down and Hen and Chimney start checking him over, giving him a once-over before they need to bring him to the hospital for a more thorough check. They don’t know what Eddie went through under there but Buck can see that there are some scrapes on his face, his eyes look irritated from the water, and he’s sopping wet, which indicates that at some point Eddie has been completely underwater.

Buck keeps cataloging the injuries he can see and he doesn’t even notice Bobby coming up next to him.

“Go,” Bobby says and nudges him towards the ambulance where Hen and Chim are helping Eddie out of the harness and the red protective gear, leaving him in his uniform that looks to be mostly dry. Next, they help him lay down on the gurney so that they can get to the hospital.

There’s no force on this earth that could keep Buck from following Eddie to the hospital right now, but he doesn’t stop to tell Bobby that. He climbs into the ambulance next to Chimney who’s working on hooking Eddie to oxygen as Bobby tells them he’s going to meet them at the hospital once everything is done at the scene. After all, their shift was supposed to be over nearly two hours ago, but the prolonged rescue had resulted in all of them staying longer. Hen is in the passenger seat while another member of 118 is driving, probably having been tasked to drive the ambulance back to the station after, so that all three of them could stay with Eddie.

Eddie should have been home an hour ago. They hadn’t needed to inform any of Eddie’s family yet since Christopher was going to spend the night with Abuela because it was a school night and it would have been too late for Eddie to pick him up after his shift. No one knows what he went through tonight. They don’t know how a relatively normal shift turned out to be a nightmare.

And Buck is glad for that since he wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.

Buck wonders if he should inform them now, but he decides to wait until he knows what to tell. Eddie is awake and cracking jokes but there’s no telling of the damage that could have happened when he was underground.

Things like internal bleeding, secondary drowning, and head trauma go through his mind and Buck curses the medical knowledge he has. He wants so hard to focus on the fact that Eddie is here and he’s alive and things look good for the first time in hours.

“Keep him awake,” Chimney says and brings Buck out of his spiraling thoughts. Buck looks at him and nods, watching as Chimney turns away to do something before Buck looks at Eddie and tries to start a conversation.

“Come on dude, you know the drill,” Buck says to Eddie as his eyes keep trying to drop closed. “No sleeping in the ambulance.”

“I must admit,” Eddie starts, his voice a little slurred. Buck doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so tired or because he’s so cold, maybe a mix of both, but nevertheless he tucks the shock blanket a little tighter around Eddie and places his hand on top of the blanket, over Eddie’s arm, hoping that even a bit of the warmth seeps into his skin through the blanket. “Now I understand why the patients are always so tempted.”

“Yeah well,” Buck starts, trying to keep his tone light and joking. It seems to be what Eddie needs right now, and Buck would do anything to make him feel even a little bit better. “Tempting or not, you’re not allowed. You’ll have plenty of time to nap later when you’re home.”

A small smile appears on Eddie’s face, softer than it should be among all the cuts and dirt.

“Yeah,” he breathes out so quietly Buck can barely hear it through the oxygen mask he’s wearing. “Home.”

The rest of the ride to the hospital follows a similar pattern of Buck saying whatever lighthearted nonsense comes to his mind and Eddie attempting to respond, his eyes trying to close against his will.

Everything is looking better now, but the weight on Buck’s chest is not letting up. If anything, it gets ten times heavier when they roll Eddie out of the ambulance and the ER staff takes over. With Eddie out of his sight, it feels difficult to assure himself that he’s fine and Buck finds himself frozen on his spot outside of the ER doors, even when Hen appears next to him and Chimney and the ambulance leaves back to the station.

“Come on,” Chimney says. “Let’s go to the waiting room.”

-.-.-

“How fucked up is it that I’ve been to this waiting room so many times that I have a favorite seat?” Chimney says after a while of silence. “You guys really need to stop injuring yourselves so often or they are going to name a ward after our team.”

“Do you think you have any right to complain?” Hen says from his side where they are sitting next to the window. It’s late so there’s not much to be seen outside, save from the lights on the hospital parking lot. “I think out of this team I’m the one who gets the rights to complain about everyone being hurt. How many times have you been here to see me in the past two years? A round zero. And I can clearly remember you nearly dying twice during that time mister rebar-through-a-brain and multiple-stabbing-wounds.”

“At least I’m not as bad as Buck,” Chimney tries to argue.

It’s dark humor, but they know each other and know that it’s sometimes needed. They’ve been through a lot, and sometimes it’s better to laugh and joke about the times when they were seriously injured, in hopes that making light of them strips away some of the fear and worry that lingers.

Buck knows that at some point they will laugh at the fact that Eddie’s injury makes Hen the only one out of their team they haven’t visited in the hospital yet, but right now the fear is still too fresh, the uncertainty of the situation making them too afraid to joke about Eddie.

Buck knows he’s being uncharastically quiet, but the other two don’t call him out on it. He’s pacing in front of Hen and Chimey’s chairs, impatient to hear what’s going on with Eddie.

The clock on the waiting room wall nears midnight when Bobby joins them. They talk about how the cleanup at the scene went. Buck tunes them out and ignores the concerned glances Bobby keeps giving his way. They make him feel like Bobby knows more than he says, and it makes Buck uncomfortable. He might wear his heart on his sleeve and generally be like an open book, but this is a secret he doesn’t want to get out. It’s a secret that has the power to destroy the friendship he has with Eddie, and Buck would rather spend the rest of his life pining than lose what he has with Eddie. Eddie is his best friend, first one he’s ever had if you don’t count Maddie, and he won’t let his stupid feelings ruin that.

Just a little over an hour ago he had been despairing over the fact that Eddie would never get to know how Buck feels about him, but now that Eddie is safe, when there’s no immediate danger, the idea of telling his best friend that he loves him makes Buck freeze up in fear.

So Buck prays that Bobby doesn’t say anything and he tries his best to keep it together when they wait for news.

Another hour passes until a nurse walks towards them.

“Are you here for Edmundo Diaz?” he asks. He must have already known the answer, considering three of them are still wearing their uniforms, Bobby being the only one who had the opportunity to change to civilian clothes. The only thing Buck has done is take off his gloves and put them in his turnout coat pockets, the coat way too heavy and warm to be worn inside but providing comfort that Buck isn’t willing to let go of just yet as he’s nervously picking at the frayed gauze in his fingers.

“Yes.” Buck is the first to reply, stopping his pacing and walking to the nurse, searching his face for any clue of the news they are going to get. “Is he okay?”

Buck can hear the rest of the team stand up as well, and the nurse looks at them all before answering.

“He’s fine,” he says. “You can follow me to a room where we have him and he can fill you in himself.”

“He’s awake?” Hen asks before Buck has the chance to.

The nurse nods.

“Right this way.”

-.-.-

When they arrive at the room, the doctor is there, talking with Eddie. Eddie looks a little better when his face is no longer smeared with blood, but the hospital gown makes him look small somehow, something Buck didn’t think was possible considering that Eddie is not a small person. The redness of his eyes is even more apparent where he’s sitting up against the white sheets, and his skin looks pale.

“How are you doing Eddie?” Bobby asks as they are all in the room.

“I’m good, Cap,” Eddie replies. “The doctor was just explaining how all my scans came out clear. There’s no liquid in my lungs and even though I’m bruised like a peach, there are no signs of internal bleeding.”

The doctor nods at Eddie’s words and continues,

“Mr. Diaz is understandably tired after everything that happened today and he’s going to feel cold for a little while until his body temperature gets back to normal, but we’re not worried. There are bruises and a couple of small cuts on his face but like he said, there’s no internal bleeding or fractured bones,” she says. “It’s going to take several days of rest before he’s able to get back to work, but there’s nothing stopping him from going home now.”

“That’s great Eddie!” Hen says cheerily and walks to Eddie’s bedside, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Chimney joins her on that side of the bed while Bobby walks on the other, Buck trailing behind him to stand next to him.

“Someone will be over with discharge papers in a little while,” the doctor says before politely excusing herself.

“I brought your bag from the station,” Bobby says and sets the bag down on a chair close to the wall. “Thought you might want to wear something clean.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddie says and gives him a genuine smile.

Buck doesn’t know what to say, too overcome with relief after hearing that Eddie really is okay, that there are no hidden injuries waiting to make themselves known. He keeps looking at Eddie, wondering what is acceptable now that they are out of the woods and everything is okay. He really liked holding Eddie’s hand earlier, but taking it now when the urgency of the situation is gone, he’s not sure if he can do it. Would his team think that it’s weird, would Eddie? What would Bobby think, when he apparently already knows something?

Bucks’ head is spinning and it takes a moment for him to realise that someone is saying his name.

“Buck?”

It’s Eddie, and Buck shakes his head to clear his thoughts so he can focus on whatever he’s apparently missed.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to your hands?” Eddie asks, nodding towards Buck’s hands that he has in front of him, his fingers nervously picking at the gauze.

“Nothing,” Buck tries to deny.

“Something happened,” Eddie argues.

“Something dumb,” Buck argues back. He spares a look at the team around them, knowing that everyone else saw how he tried to dig Eddie up with his bare hands. It had been an instinct then, but now, under the bright lights of the hospital room, it feels foolish. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up and he hopes the blush doesn’t spread to his face.

He’s saved from answering when the same nurse from earlier returns with Eddie’s discharge papers, and they leave the room to give Eddie privacy to change his clothes.

-.-.-

“Does anyone else need a ride home?” Bobby asks the people around them as they walk towards the exit. He had offered to drive Eddie home since his truck was still at the station and he’s in no state to drive it home that night.

“Maddie is going to pick me up,” Chimney says. “And Hen is coming with us too since she lives in the same direction.”

“Okay,” Bobby nods. “How about you Buck?”

Buck doesn’t live in the same direction as Chimney and Hen, and even if he did he’d probably come up with an excuse to ride with Bobby, just so he could stay with Eddie for a while longer.

“If it’s not too much trouble?” Buck asks.

“Of course not,” Bobby says. “You two wait at the front, I’m going to get the car here so you don’t need to walk all the way to the parking lot, Eddie.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Eddie says. He’s dressed in his own clothes now, plus an LAFD hoodie that’s doing a pretty poor job at keeping him warm if the shivers running through his body are anything to go by. Buck wishes he could reach for Eddie and hold him close, help keep him warm.

They say their goodbyes to Chimney and Hen, and Buck stays with Eddie near the doors when Bobby goes to get the car. Eddie’s looking better than he did at the scene, but it’s obvious that he’s tired. He might not be stumbling anymore but the relatively short walk from the hospital room to the entrance doors has left him winded, and Buck knows that the reason why he leans against the wall isn’t to look casual.

Buck takes in a deep breath of cool night air through his nose, happy to leave the smell of hospital behind. It’s quiet for a while before Eddie breaks the silence.

“Are you going to tell me about your hands?”

Buck thinks about it. Does he want to tell Eddie? Not particularly. But he’s aware that Eddie will hear about it sooner or later. He’ll hear from someone in the team or he’ll see a news report or an online article of what happened today.

Buck thinks it’s best to get it out of the way now.

“When we first noticed that you were buried under all that dirt,” Buck starts, decidedly staying a couple of steps away from the wall with his back to Eddie, his focus on his hands and the fraying gauze he keeps picking with his wrapped fingertips. “I was terrified?”

He has no idea why he says it like it’s a question. It’s one of the things he’s the most sure about when it comes to the day they’ve had. At that moment he was absolutely terrified that they’d lost Eddie. “I tried to dig you up.”

“With your hands?” Eddie asks, and though there’s no mocking tone Buck feels defensive.

“Told you it was stupid,” he says and kicks a small rock on the ground.

Eddie is quiet after that and Buck fights the urge to turn to look at him because while a part of him is curious to see what kind of expression Eddie might be wearing at the moment, a bigger part is scared to know.

Confusion, pity, and understanding are all things Buck could see there, and he doesn’t know how to react to any of them. It’s safer not to know, better if he can leave this conversation and pretend it never happened and move on.

That’s why when he sees Bobby’s car pull up he pulls the passenger side door open and gets in, focusing on what he can see through the windshield as Eddie climbs into the backseat and Bobby starts driving. Buck tries his best to convince himself that the weight of Eddie’s eyes on the back of his head is completely imaginary.

It’s quiet in the car, save from the music playing low volume on the radio, until Eddie breaks the quiet.

“Could we stop at Abuela’s and get Chris?” Eddie asks, his voice hesitant.

Buck looks at the clock on the car radio and sees it’s nearing 2 AM, which means that Christopher’s bedtime has well and truly passed. The fact that Eddie wants to wake him up and bring him home speaks volumes about what kind of day he’s had. It doesn’t surprise Buck that Eddie wants to be near family now, and Bobby doesn’t question it either. His reply is sure, like there was never another option.

“Of course.”

Eddie calls Abuela then, saving her from details but telling her that something happened at work but that he’s okay now and he’s going to come to pick Christopher up soon.

His words make it seem so simple, like he sprained his ankle or maybe inhaled a little too much smoke, not that he got buried alive and almost died.

Buck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses on the sound of Eddie’s voice.

Eddie is safe, alive, and in the same car as him. If Buck were a braver man he could turn his head and look at Eddie right now, but he’s scared of what Eddie might see on his face if he did, so he keeps facing forward, hoping that the car ride to Abuela’s never ends so that he doesn’t need to go home alone with only his thoughts as company. He doesn’t know what will happen when he can no longer confirm by at least one of his senses that Eddie is okay.

Before long they arrive at Abuela’s and Bobby has barely parked the car before Eddie is getting out of the car.

“You okay, kid?” Bobby asks as they sit in the car and watch as Eddie rushes to the door and Abuela opens it for him, greeting him with a tight hug that must hurt Eddie’s bruised body but that he returns just as tightly.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He watches as Eddie disappears into the house and waves back when Abuela spots him in the car and waves as a greeting.

“It’s okay not to be,” Bobby says. Buck doesn’t know how to reply to that so he stays quiet, and soon they can see Eddie coming out of the house, carrying a very tired-looking but nevertheless awake Christopher in his arms. Abuela trails behind them, carrying Chirstopher’s backpack and crutches.

Buck plasters on a smile as he turns to greet Christopher, not wanting the kid to pick up on his somber mood. He hopes it’s convincing enough to assure Abuela as well.

The ride is quiet and when they arrive at Eddie’s house, Christopher is already back asleep, being none the wiser about what happened to his father earlier that day. Or technically yesterday.

“Do you need help?” Buck asks as he watches Eddie lift Christopher up into his arms, his crutches under his arm and backpack on his back. It looks complicated but there’s an ease to the action that has come by practice - this is hardly the first time Eddie has done this.

“No,” Eddie says. “We’re good. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

They say their goodbyes and watch Eddie walk to the front door and unlock the door, making sure they get inside. When they are safely in the house, Bobby turns to look at Buck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” He asks. Buck turns his eyes away from the kitchen window where a light glow of the living room light could be seen.

“He needs to be with family,” Buck says. “I don’t want to intrude. Besides, I'm really tired and just want to get to my own bed where I can get some sleep. I’ve slept on their couch before and let me tell you, it’s not made for people my height.”

Lie.

Buck wants nothing more than to stay near Eddie, even if it means uncomfortable rest on the too-short couch. Even sleeping there would probably be more restful than a sleep in his own bed will be.

Bobby looks like he wants to argue but he stays quiet, nods a little, and reverses the car from the driveway.

They stay quiet the whole ride to Buck’s apartment and Buck keeps thinking about how much he doesn’t want to go there, but he pushes it back and listens to the music on the radio.

“Thanks for the ride Bobby,” he says as they reach his building.

“No problem,” Bobby says. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” Buck says and closes the car door. He waves to Bobby and starts walking towards the doors.

Buck tries to focus on how nice it is to be home after the day he’s had. How nice it will be to shower and get to clean clothes and wash away all the mud that keeps reminding him of earlier. How nice it will be to get to his soft bed and to put this day behind him.

But try as he might, he can’t ignore how empty the apartment is when he finally unlocks his door. It’s dark in there, but he doesn’t want to turn on the lights downstairs. He hangs his turnout coat next to the door and leaves the pants in a heap on the floor. He’ll deal with them tomorrow, will probably drop them by the station so they’ll be clean by the time they have their next shift a day after tomorrow. He heads up to the loft on the light provided by the tall windows and only turns on the light when he reaches his bathroom.

The sight that greets him in the bathroom mirror makes him stop for a moment and stare. There’s mud on his face and on his uniform, despite the turnout gear he’d been wearing when they were outside. There are dark marks under his eyes, and the white gauze at his fingers looks frayed. It looks like he’s had a hellish night, even though he was the one above ground.

He shakes himself back to present at that thought and moves towards the sink to gently peel away the gauze. He wants to shower and having soggy gauze on his fingers isn't going to be good. Besides, as he throws the gauze away and studies his fingers, he sees that they have mostly stopped bleeding, save for the few parts that were pulled open when he took away the gauze.

His shower is quick, the soap in his wounds making him reassess the thought that his wounds had closed, but he pushes through it. He has mud in places where mud should never go and wants it all gone. He wants to wash away those reminders of what happened today, even if he can’t remove them from his head. When he’s done he dries himself and wraps the few fingers that are still bleeding, not wanting any blood on his clothes or sheets. After that he gets dressed in sweats and a tee, going through with his bedtime routine like it’s any other day, instead of one of the most awful days he’s ever had. And it’s saying a lot, because life hasn’t always treated him kindly.

He tries to ignore the thoughts going through his head, thoughts of how close he came of losing Eddie and how Eddie must be feeling right now, of what kind of thoughts are going through his head. Buck doesn’t even know what Eddie really went through down there, and he fears that the reality is just as bad or maybe even worse than the scenarios he has in his head. And in the end it doesn’t matter, because all Buck has are those thoughts, those maybes and what-ifs. But Eddie has the reality, Eddie is the one who almost died, who had to fight his way out of an impossible situation, and who is alone in knowing how it really felt.

All alone.

As Buck sits on the edge of his bed, all ready to go to sleep but for some reason unable to lay down, he makes a decision.

Eddie might want to be with Christopher and to get some rest, but Buck isn’t going to leave him alone. He’s had to be alone too much today. He was alone when the hole collapsed, he was alone when he fought his way back to the surface, he had to be alone in the ER when they did all those tests and scans to determine what kind of damage it all did to his body. He’s had to be alone too much today, and like hell is Buck going to let him be alone right now.

Eddie might not be physically alone, and Buck knows that having Christopher nearby is probably the best kind of comfort Eddie can get right now, but he also knows his friend and knows that he’ll try to act okay for the sake of his son. He won’t let Christopher see him weak, won’t let him know the extent of what happened to him because he doesn’t want Christopher to be afraid.

Eddie nearly died tonight, and he’s allowed to be weak. Is allowed to be scared and vulnerable, and Buck thinks he might need someone to remind him of that. Someone who knows what happened, and someone Eddie doesn’t need to shield.

Buck might not be family, but he’s Eddie’s best friend, and it’s best friend’s job to make sure their friend is okay. He knows that Eddie said that he’s okay, and he knows that the doctors said that he was okay physically, nothing a good rest wouldn’t fix. But Buck also knows what it does to a person to nearly die, and he knows that Eddie is probably the last person to admit that he needs help, or just wants someone to be there.

So Buck makes up his mind, doesn’t even bother to change his clothes, just pulls on a pair of shoes and a hoodie, and leaves the apartment to get to his car that’s in the parking lot. To think that less than 24 hours ago it was just another day where Eddie had picked him up before their shift so they could head in together. It feels like a lifetime has passed between that moment and now.

Buck starts the car and drives the familiar route to Eddie’s house. The clock on the dashboard shows past 3 AM and the roads are calm, no sign of the early morning traffic yet.

When Buck parks on the driveway, he notices immediately that a small light is still glowing from behind the kitchen curtains. Either it means that Eddie forgot to turn the lights off, or it means that Buck’s not the only one who feels like sleep is the last thing on their mind right now.

He gets out of the car and walks to the door, knocking on it lightly. He never stopped to think what he would do if Eddie wasn’t awake. He had the key for emergencies but would it be okay to use it now, in the middle of the night?

Although, Buck thinks, if the urgency he feels is any indicator, this must fall under the category of emergencies.

He doesn’t need to think for longer because the door opens and Eddie is standing behind it. He’s dressed in sweats and a thick sweatshirt, and his damp hair is curling at the ends, indicating that he has probably showered earlier. There are still cuts on his face and the skin around his eyes is irritated, but he looks a lot better now that he’s clean and dressed comfortably. He’s a little confused but he doesn’t seem annoyed that Buck is behind his door so late (or early) after the day he’s had, so Buck takes in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, as if he’s unsure if his tired eyes are seeing right.

“Hey,” Buck says and steps inside when Eddie steps aside to let him in. “I’m sorry I’m here.”

“Why?” Eddie asks after he closes the door and turns to face Buck in the living room. The hallway light is on, as is the small lamp in the living room. The door to Christopher’s room is closed, so Buck assumes at least one of them is doing what they all should be doing and is asleep. Buck turns to look at Eddie when he answers, even though he’s not sure if Eddie is asking him why he’s at his door at such a weird hour, or why he’s apologising.

“I’m sorry for barging here,” Buck explains. “I know you’ve had a long day and you want to rest and spend time with family. But I-'' Buck hesitates before he continues. “I thought that maybe you’d want someone to be there for you. Someone who’s willing to listen and who you don’t need to shield, because I saw what happened.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, Buck’s name coming out in a breath, a tone of awe in the name. “You are family.”

Buck’s at a loss for words because that’s not the part of his speech he was expecting Eddie to comment on, but he’s saved from having to come up with a reply when Eddie continues.

“I want you here,” he admits, his tone still quiet. Whether it is because he doesn’t want to wake up Christopher, or because he’s afraid to say the words any louder, careful with words that make him vulnerable, Buck doesn’t know. “I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“You shouldn’t have needed to ask,” Buck replies easily and steps forward to pull Eddie into a hug. It’s gentler than the ones they occasionally share, in part because Buck is still very aware of how fragile Eddie is, and in part because it feels fitting for the situation. It’s not the time for a happy hug that’s quick and accompanied by pats on the shoulder, the situation calls for something softer, gentle but solid that reminds the other that they aren’t alone, that the other is there and that things will be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like that at the moment.

Buck pretends that he doesn’t hear the small sniff that comes out of Eddie when Buck doesn’t pull away from the hug after a short while, letting Eddie decide how long he needs the hug to last, and he pretends that his cheek just happens to brush against Eddie’s shirt, and he’s not trying to subtly brush away a tear that escaped at feeling Eddie against him, solid and warm and alive.

Eddie’s been honest, the least Buck can do is return the favor.

“I was terrified,” Buck says. “From the moment I lost your weight on that rope I had a bad feeling in my stomach, and when the hole collapsed it felt like I couldn’t breathe. There are only a few moments in my life when I’ve been as terrified.”

Buck doesn’t mention any examples, but he’s pretty sure Eddie knows that one of those times is the time he spent apart from Christopher during the tsunami.

“I’m not sorry I cut that rope,” Eddie says slowly, his words a warm puff against Buck’s shoulder. Maybe it’s easier to talk like this, with the others’ warmth reminding them that they are safe, and not having to face the other. “I’d do it again if it meant saving that boy. But I am sorry that I caused you so much pain.”

Eddie pulls away after that, but instead of completely letting go of Buck, his hands find Buck’s, the mention of pain probably reminding him of Buck’s hands. Buck only wrapped the fingers with the deepest cuts after his shower, so the extent of his injuries is clear for Eddie to see. Buck feels embarrassed, because why did he think that he had any chance digging Eddie out of there with his hands? But he doesn’t pull the hands away, instead letting Eddie inspect them.

“You tried to dig me up with your bare hands,” Eddie says. It’s not a question but a statement, but Buck feels the need to reply.

“I would do anything for you.”

It might be too much, might reveal too much, but at that moment Buck doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and Eddie deserves to know it. Not because Buck wants him to know what Buck went through when the well collapsed, how much he hurt, and what he was thinking. But because Eddie went through hell today and Buck wants to help, wants to chase away some of those terrifying thoughts and make room for good ones, ones that remind Eddie of how loved he is and how happy everyone is that he made it out.

Eddie doesn’t reply verbally, but he lifts Buck’s hands, first the other one and then the other, and leaves a kiss on both of Buck’s palms, a safe distance from the cuts on his fingers.

It’s barely a brush of lips but it feels monumental, and Buck doesn’t know how to react. It feels like more than friendship, but after the night they’ve both had he doesn’t think now is the right time to reveal his feelings to Eddie. At least not more than he’s already done with his actions.

“Should have known you’d make it out of there on your own,” Buck says eventually when they’ve been quiet for a while, Eddie still looking down at where they are now holding hands, Buck trying to warm up Eddie’s cold skin. “I’m proud of you, Eddie. You must have fought like hell.”

“I’ll always fight to come back to my family,” he says, the word family emphasized with a squeeze of his hands, reminding Buck that he’s included in that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks, knowing that getting some of those things out of his head would probably do Eddie good.

“Not tonight,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck. “Maybe later?”

Buck nods, accepting that Eddie probably needs a little time to process everything. He must also be very tired if the droop of his eyelids and the exhausted way he's holding himself are anything to go by.

“You’re probably tired,” Buck says. “You should sleep.”

Eddie hesitates before he speaks next.

“Stay?”

“I’ll be at the couch if you need me,” Buck says, already knowing that there’s nothing that could make him go back to his apartment tonight.

“No I mean-” Eddie starts and hesitates, taking a step backward towards his bedroom and pulling Buck along by his hands, a wordless question. “I’d rather not be alone.”

One of these days Buck is going to talk to Eddie about how he never has to hesitate in asking Buck something, especially if that something is as simple as this. But today is not that day, and instead he toes off his shoes and lets go of one of Eddie’s hands so he can start walking towards Eddie’s bedroom and pull the other man with him.

The bedside table lamp is on, giving them enough light to see what they are doing. Buck lets Eddie get in bed before he tells him that he’ll be right back, and goes to turn off the living room and hallway lights, and then he gets into bed as well. When he reaches for the bedside lamp, a hand stops him.

“Please don’t,” Eddie says, his eyes downcast to the sheets between them. Then he explains, “The well was cold and dark.”

Eddie doesn’t need to say anything more. Buck knows how much it takes for Eddie to admit that he wants to sleep with the light on but Buck will never judge him for it. He even thinks he can help with the other thing as well.

“Are you still feeling cold?” he asks as he settles on his side facing Eddie. They are sharing the blanket but there’s a foot of space between them. Buck wants to let Eddie set the pace but wants him to know that Buck is here for anything he might need.

Eddie nods, “The doctor said that I might feel like this for a while. Said it takes a while for my body to catch up with no longer being in the cold.”

Buck scoots a little bit closer and lifts his arm, a clear invite if Eddie wants to get closer.

Eddie looks almost relieved when he scoots closer, and Buck has a feeling that at least half of that relief stems from the fact that Eddie didn’t need to ask. All fear about crossing a line leaves Buck’s mind as Eddie curls close to him and hides his face in the warm space under Buck’s chin, his cold nose making Buck shiver before he gets used to it. Buck brings his arms around Eddie, both to remind him that he’s not alone and to provide warmth.

“I’ve got you.”

The effect of the action is almost immediate and Buck can feel Eddie relax against him. He feels how his body goes lax and how the breaths against his neck get deeper and calmer.

And Buck sees the moment as it is. A moment of vulnerability that shows Eddie’s trust in him in a way he’s rarely seen before. Sure, he knows Eddie trusts him with his life while they are at work, but it is completely different to know that Eddie trusts him with his heart, with the side of him that’s vulnerable and that he normally guards with thick walls. It makes Buck feel like he might not be alone in his feelings, but he doesn’t want to rush it, knowing that now is not the right moment.

They have time.

Buck waits for Eddie to fall asleep first, his exhausted body giving in to sleep quickly as Buck’s hand cards through his hair. Buck tries to stay awake as long as he can, both to appreciate the moment and hoping he will notice if Eddie starts having a nightmare. But the day has been a lot, and having Eddie in his arms - safe and alive - makes the last bits of fear loosen their grip around Buck’s heart and he feels the tension leave his body and he drifts to sleep between one of Eddie’s steady breaths against his neck and the next.

They both get to leave the day behind.

It won’t disappear, things aren’t magically better tomorrow. Just Eddie’s physical injuries will take a while to heal, not to mention the work he has to put on dealing with what happened mentally. Buck knows it won’t be easy, but he’s going to be there for Eddie every step along the way, in whatever way Eddie wants him to.

And isn’t that another thing to think about? This new step they’ve taken in their relationship. What will it look like in the light of a new day? Buck doesn’t know, but he’s not scared anymore.

It’s him and Eddie. They’ll figure it out.

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #my writing #i'm finally yeeting this fic here #feels good #i'm done changing little things #this is as good as it'll get now

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