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Will you take a moment, promise me this: that you'll stand by me forever, but if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye,
if you have children some day, when they point to the pictures, please tell ‘em my name. Tell 'em how the crowds went wild. Tell 'em how I hope they shine.
“Diving into deep waters, and diving into love can both leave you with the bends.” It was a phrase Abby had told Buck once, way back when they’d first met, way before they had gotten together. It had been a response to him asking her why it had been so long since she’d been in a relationship. She had told him, over the phone, that she wasn’t a risk taker, she thought out what she was going to do, planned every choice she made, so that if something happened, it wouldn’t leave her feeling worse than she did before. Diving could be beautiful, the water, the ocean was a wide, vast territory of the most magnificent creatures and corals, but it could leave you sick. It could kill you, and sometimes the dive into those deep waters wasn't worth the bends. He thought about that phrase before every relationship he jumped into, and when the water came up to swallow him whole, he thought that for the first time, he understood the bends.
For the first time, he understood that when a wave came, it hit and then receded, because water always rushed away, always pulled back.
He lost Eddie to the water, and he wasn’t brave enough to dive in after him.
He lost everyone he loved to the water, and he was never good enough to get them back.
Maddie called him in the middle of the night to tell him the news:
Their mom was in the hospital and she wanted Buck to call her.
And suddenly, Buck was five years old again, sitting in a hospital room not understanding why his parents were kissing him all over when he just scraped up his knee. Suddenly, he was a teenager who had just gone roof-jumping with his friends and had fallen and broken his arm, and waited with his parents in the ER for hours. Buck remembered all the times he’d been in the hospital and had finally, finally been noticed by his parents, and now his mom was there, begging to be noticed by him.
His mom and dad were like the waves too, tugging him in, the soft lull and crashing harshness of the tide. It was a push and pull of hell and misery, but also a deep desire for them to want him. He wanted to be Evan to them more than anything, but instead, he was Daniel, a distant memory of the boy his body couldn’t save. The boy who they wanted more.
The boy who had begged the nurses to let him see his baby brother even though babies weren’t allowed in the ICU. Maddie had told him about it, about how they snuck little Evan across dangerous borders to see the boy he was meant to save… but didn’t.
Daniel died, and he would always die, and in every nightmare Buck had, he died.
Chris didn’t die, Buck’s body had saved him, and Buck’s body had saved Eddie, and Buck’s body saved so many people over and over, except that one boy.
Maddie was sobbing and Buck could distantly hear Chimney’s voice in the background, whispering soft, encouraging words to her, and it was all too much. He thought ‘Eddie should be here, holding my hand while I do this’, but Eddie didn’t like Buck anymore, and the doctors had only given his mom a few hours. He hung up with Maddie, promising to the darkness of his bedroom that he would call his mom, when his phone rang on its own.
It was Eddie.
“Hey, Eds, I-I actually can’t talk right now-”
“Buck, are you ok? I just woke up in a cold fucking sweat and I feel like there’s something happening to you.”
Shit.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine…” Buck was whispering into the phone speaker, as silent as a church mouse, and as timid as one too. Eddie and Buck sometimes had spidey-senses when it came to each other. Chris had thought it was really cool. Eddie sometimes acted weird about it, but Buck had thought it was fucking sick. Amazing, and strange, until right now when it called him out like a parade of red flags and people screaming “Evan Buckley’s mom is dying!!”
“Buck?”
“I, uh, really can’t talk now, Eds.” And then he hung up, and he stared at his phone some more, begging his fingers to dial his mom’s number and say goodbye.
What would he say? How do you say goodbye to someone like that? Would he curse her out for all the terrible things she’d said to him, or should he forgive her for all the shit she put him through? Buck got out of bed and started pacing through his house, eventually ending up in the kitchen, phone on the sink, hands braced against the steel, panting. He was stalling, and he didn’t have time to, so he picked up his phone and hit the button he hadn't hit in years.
His mom’s contact.
And he smashed in the call button and placed it on speaker, leaning back against the counter and trying to hold in the panic in his lungs.
The phone clicked to connect the call, and Buck’s front door was thrown open into the wall, chipping at the drywall and leaving a mark. Eddie, with crazy eyes and concern in every feature of his body, was standing in front of Buck, eyes on the phone, and Buck listened as his mom’s voice rang out into the room.
“Evan?”
“Y-yeah, mom?”
“Evan, I’m so glad you called.” She sounded like she was drowning, like she didn’t have enough oxygen, and Buck hated that this was going to be his last memory of her. He couldn’t-
Eddie took three brisk steps into the kitchen and wordlessly curled himself around Buck, pressing into his space and pressing his hands into his spine, rubbing comforting circles to Buck’s bones.
Buck let out a deep breath that he hadn’t meant to hold, and nodded, told himself he could give his mom this last thing. This one last thing.
“Yeah, uhm, Maddie called, said it was bad.”
There was a soft chuckle that Buck had heard more than once. He’d heard it when he got suspended and they’d called his mom to ask how his home life was.
“How dare you ask me that? My son is just incapable of applying himself to his studies, we are not beating him.”
They were though…
They always were-
“It is this time, Evan, but I wanted to call both of my kids before I went and met my third one. I wanted to tell you that I’m-I’m sorry…”
Buck’s knees gave out and he sank to the ground. Eddie supported his body through it, holding on tight until Buck was lying in his lap and Eddie’s back was pressed against the dishwasher. “Oh?”
“Yes, Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better mother for you after Daniel passed. I’m sorry I blamed you. I’m sorry I never did anything when your father laid his hands on you-” Eddie’s grip lightened ever so softly, then he re-adjusted and held onto Buck tighter. Comforting, not constricting.
“I’m just so… so sorry, baby.”
She had never called him that before, and Buck was reminded of every time he wished his mom would say this, except it was all backwards now. She was saying goodbye and apologizing, instead of saying it and letting them get to know each other without the hate in the way.
“M-mom it’s ok, alright? I-I don’t want you to carry this with you when you get to meet Him, huh? We both know you’ll be forgiven by someone more important than me, but… I-I still want to say it. If that’s ok?” He took a deep breath, then another, and Eddie lifted his head from Buck's shoulder to look him in his eyes. He smiled, pushed his thumb across Buck’s tears, and a sob curled out of Buck’s mouth.
“I forgive you, mama…”
“I love you, Buck.” Eddie whispered later, when they were curled up in the Diaz house, with Chris dozing peacefully right next door. Buck buried his head into Eddie’s chest and let out a soft noise, not quite a sigh, but not quite a cry. Something between, something laced with pain and sorrow, and covered with a new beginning, and so many hopeful tomorrows.
“I love you back.”
And Eddie lifted Buck’s face by the chin and pulled him into a kiss and Buck thought that for the first time, he understood the bends. He understood that when a wave came, it hit and then receded, because water always rushed away, always pulled back.
He lost his mom to the water, and he was brave enough to let the waves take her softly.
Years later, and after many decades lived, he lost himself to the water, when it came and took him from where he was. Took him from that sunny Thursday morning, when both him and Eddie were old and gray and forgiven by life.
The waves took Buck from his sleep and carried him home.
And Buck learned that the bends took and the bends returned, and they were hardly ever fair.
Long live the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life, with you. All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you, and I was screaming long live all the magic we made. And bring on all the pretenders. I'm not afraid
Long live all the mountains we moved. I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. Long, long live that look on your face.
One day, we will be remembered…