Buck opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his room at Bobby and Athena's. When he started calling it 'his room' instead of 'the guestroom,' he didn't know. What he did know was that the silence of the house was starting to get to him, and it didn't help that his thoughts were drifting back to the darker ones.
He's been with the Grant-Nashes for over three months already, and while both Athena and Bobby insisted that it was okay that he stayed with them until he was deemed fit to return to work and that they wanted him to be there anyway, that little voice in his head saying that he doesn't deserve it still won't go away. And although his talk with Harry months ago had slowly made him want to unlearn the mindset he's had for years, it was still hard but he was determined to break the vicious cycle of how his mind worked. But even he had to admit that there were times, like now, when his thoughts keep drifting back to their old ways.
He had no idea what actually roused him from his sleep, and he squinted as he slowly turned his head to see the time, groaning softly when the bright red numbers on the clock he had on the bedside table stared back at him.
03:28 AM
Buck dropped his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes just as he heaved another deep sigh. He settled back and stared at the dark ceiling once more before dragging a hand across his face. There was no way he'd be able to go back to sleep, not with the sudden and unwelcome dark thoughts that took a hold of him and were slowly pulling him under. He shook his head and was about to turn to rest on his side to face the window when he felt it.
That familiar itch.
That dreaded call of something sharp.
That out-of-the-blue need to feel... something.
It was so sudden and unexpected that it caught him off guard, and the careful walls he'd spent the better part of the last two months trying to build in his mind crumbled in that split second as the urge to cut became apparent in his mind, further clouding his thoughts.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Buck bolted upright and tried to clear his mind. He snapped the rubber band on his wrist hard, trying to make himself feel the pain from the sting of rubber meeting skin instead of the more specific kind of pain that he wanted to have.
It was something he used to do before to snap himself out of his thoughts, and also to refrain himself from adding another line on his arm. But he's long stopped doing it and had only recently started doing it again when his therapist suggested that he try to do it again. The method had worked so far, and was effective during the last several weeks since he's started it again.
But under the force of his intrusive dark thoughts, Buck found himself rooted in place on the bed, terrified, in the dark. He tried to clear his head as he repeatedly snapped the band over and over again on his wrist, hoping that it would be enough to curb the desire to add another horrible red line to his already littered wrists and to clear his head, but to no avail.
He's only had one major setback during his stay so far, and that happened on his third week at the household with May being the one to get through to him. It had been so difficult for him, and he can't imagine how hard that must have been not only for May but for Harry, Athena, and Bobby as well. He was desperately hoping that there wouldn't be another setback.
And yet, there he was, suddenly feeling cold and unable to move from his spot on the bed at that godforsaken hour. Soon enough, his panic began to take over him and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
He told himself he wouldn't be waking anyone up, he could take care of himself. But at that moment he was utterly terrified of the intensity of the need to hurt that it was suffocating him.
He wanted, no, he needed someone. And just as that thought crossed his mind, his hand was reaching out before he could even really process what he was doing, rubber band forgotten. His hand landed on top of the bedside table in the dark, and clumsily fumbled in search of his phone. When he finally made out the form of his phone against his palm, he quickly snatched it from its resting place and unlocked it, hands shaking and eyes squinting at the sudden brightness.
Breathing hard, Buck pressed the speed dial he had for one of his parents and shakily brought the phone against his ear. The initial thought he had of not waking up the only other occupant of the house at that ungodly hour suddenly became nonexistent as his fear and panic began to take over, and his thoughts began to spiral out of control.
His breaths came in short gasps, and he felt like the room was closing in on him. He began to feel the cold sweat coming out of his pores as he tried to keep his head above the water, desperately fighting against the onslaught of his turbulent thoughts that were trying to pull him under.
"P-Pick up.. Pick u-up.. P-Please pick up," Buck pleaded as he choked on a sob.
He felt tears run down his cheeks as he started to feel like losing the fight and thought of letting himself drown altogether, just as he always did.
But before he could really consider doing just that, and just as his call was about to go on the second ring, a series of hurried footsteps rang throughout the silent house before the door to his room burst open, and suddenly the room was washed in bright lights. Buck flinched and instinctively shut his eyes tight as he pressed the phone harder against his ear.
"P-Please.. P-Pick u-up.. Please," he cried, voice cracking as his hand tightened around his phone.
He was so engrossed in trying to keep his head afloat that he didn't realize that the person he was calling, the person he so desperately needed, had come running from the master bedroom across the hall and was already in the room with him.
"Buck. Evan, hey, I'm here. I need you to breathe for me," he heard someone say as he felt the bed dip and familiar large calloused hands gently grasped both of his hands, one pulled away from his ear along with his phone.
He felt them climb onto the bed and gently manoeuvered him so that his back rested against their chest. Dad, his brain supplied as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. He felt Bobby's strong arms wrap around him tight just as he opened his eyes and tried to blink away his tears.
"D-Dad, help," Buck gasped as more of his tears fell onto his cheeks.
"You need to breathe, Evan. Come on, deep breaths, kiddo," Bobby coaxed from behind him as he unwound one of his arms from his boy to card through his sweaty hair.
But Buck was shaking his head violently before he could even finish.
"I.. I c-can't. Dad, I can't," he gasped, and his wild panicked breathing came in harsher.
"Yes, you can, son. Just copy my breathing pattern, okay? Just breathe with me, Evan. You can do it," he heard Bobby tell him softly, as the older man's other arm tightened around him.
Buck took a moment before nodding his head and doing as he was told. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to match his dad's breathing.
"That's it. Just breathe, kiddo. I've got you," Bobby whispered from behind him as the arm he had around the kid gradually loosened and Buck's breathing became in sync with his.
And just like that, the dark clouds around his thoughts slowly started dissipating as his mind began to clear, and the need to hurt didn't feel as intense and as overwhelming as it did before Bobby came for him. But still, it was there.
Buck continued matching his breathing as he slowly reached to hold Bobby's wrist tightly. The young man counted to ten and then back a couple of times as he breathed, letting the gentle carding of his dad's hand through his hair and the soft thump of his dad's pulse under his fingers anchor him to the present.
"I-I'm sorry," Buck said quietly after a moment once he's gotten his bearings and his breathing under control.
"Hey, none of that. You've got nothing to be sorry for," he heard Bobby say to him softly.
And before he could protest, he felt Bobby press a gentle kiss against his temple as he continued carding his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, and Buck couldn't help but lean further against him as his eyes teared up once more.
At almost thirty years old, it felt too childish and too needy, but he couldn't find it in himself to care right now. He's never had this, and it felt exactly like how he imagined it would if he had parents who gave a damn about him.
"Y-You came," he said slowly as he angled his head to look up at Bobby.
"Of course, I came. I was scrambling out of bed the moment I heard the ringtone you've set for your contact on my phone, kid. I never thought I'd feel so terrified again until I realized it was you calling," the older man told him quietly, his coffee-brown eyes gazing into Buck's baby blues.
Buck swallowed thickly before biting his lip and opening his mouth. "I'm so s-sorry, Dad. I.. I didn't–"
"Do anything wrong, Evan," Bobby finished off for him before he could say anything else
Buck held Bobby's gaze even as he carded through his sweaty curls as the man continued.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Buck, and I was terrified because I thought something bad had happened while I was asleep. That you've managed to find something to hurt yourself with, or worse. And while something did happen, I'm really glad you called me, Evan."
Buck bit his lip and looked down at his lap.
"I felt it, Dad. The urge, I mean, to hurt myself. I felt it and it really scared the hell out of me," he confessed quietly before slowly looking back up at his dad once again, afraid of what he'll see in his eyes.
Buck expected to see anger, disgust, and even disappointment, but then he remembered that he wasn't anything like the Buckleys.
This was Bobby.
Fire captain to the 118, husband to Athena, and stepfather to May and Harry.
More importantly, he was a father to Buck.
But even with that knowledge, even with Athena and Bobby telling him time and time again that he was their kid in all the ways that mattered, the unmasked worry, the palpable concern, and the pure and genuine love reflected in Bobby's coffee-brown eyes as he looked up at him still managed to catch Buck off guard every single time.
His cell donors, as both Athena and Bobby have come to call the Buckleys, have never done anything remotely close to this for him. They never came running whenever he called. They were never really worried about him. They never bothered to hold him the way Bobby and Athena held him at times when he was hurting, never held him the way Bobby was holding him right now. They never hugged and kissed him just because they wanted to, and they never had the look Bobby currently had in his eyes as he seemed to ache for him.
"Do you still feel it right now?" Bobby asked quietly as he continued his ministrations on his hair.
Buck bit his lip and nodded meekly.
"Yes. It's not as... intense as it felt before you came. But it..," Buck trailed off with a sigh as he looked away from his dad.
"But it's still there," Bobby finished gently for him.
Buck swallowed thickly before nodding his head in the affirmative. "Y-Yeah."
A relatively comfortable silence followed soon after that, and Buck was relieved that Bobby didn't immediately start asking questions. He allowed himself to be comforted just by having his dad there with him, and he accepted the calm radiating from him as he finally felt his heartbeat return to its usual pace.
"Do you want to talk about it?" his dad asked after a moment of silence.
Buck looked back up at him at that and shook his head before responding. "Not yet. M-Maybe later? I-Is that okay?"
Bobby gave him that rare small, soft smile that Buck knew he only reserved for Athena and the kids.
And it appears it was reserved for him now, too.
He watched as Bobby slowly reached up and carefully brushed away the sweaty strands of his curls that managed to get stuck on his forehead as he spoke gently and softly.
"Of course, son. Whenever you're ready."
Buck gave him a smile of his own in return. He settled against Bobby's chest for a few more minutes before he felt the man move behind him, prompting him to sit upright. He turned to look at his dad just in time to see him look back from checking the time on his bedside table clock, which automatically had him checking the time himself.
04:32 AM
Buck blinked at the time and realized that Athena would be home in a couple of hours from her shift and, by then, she'll be just in time to join them for breakfast. He looked back at Bobby only to find him already looking at him.
"You think you'd be able to get some more sleep before your mom gets home?" Bobby asked to which Buck immediately bit his lip as he thought about it.
But before he could even really think too long about it, his dad spoke up again.
"Or would you rather we get a..," the older man paused and double-checked the time before continuing as he looked back at Buck, "..three-hour-and-twenty-eight-minute headstart on breakfast?"
"Could we?" Buck asked, voice sounding as hopeful as he looked, with his bright blue eyes staring at Bobby.
"Alright, kid," he said softly, smile softening when he saw the look on Buck's face before he moved to get up from the bed, ruffling the already unkempt curls on Buck's head as his feet hit the floor.
"Come on, let's see what we can make for breakfast," he called over his shoulder as he walked towards the door.
"Yeah, okay. I'll be right behind you. I'll just make the bed real quick, I promise," Buck replied as he quickly got off the bed and reached to fix his untidy bed.
"Alright. I'll meet you in the kitchen," Bobby replied with a smile and was just about to step out of the door when the younger man suddenly called out to him softly.
"Hey, Dad?"
Buck watched as his dad looked over his shoulder with an inquiring look on his face. "Yeah, kid?"
"Thanks for coming to get me out of my head," Buck replied softly, his baby blues boring into his dad's coffee browns.
"Always," came Bobby's immediate response.
That made Buck's smile a little wider, and not for the first time did the young man wonder if it was something Bobby and Athena had talked about and decided to have in their relationship. Or if it was something that came naturally to both of them and became an automated response that they both give to those they hold close to their heart as both a reassurance and a promise.
"Alright. Right behind me, you copy?" Bobby checked in as he raised his signature fire-dad eyebrow, as Chim liked to call it, at him.
"Copy that, Captain Nash. I'll meet you in the kitchen, two minutes tops," Buck chuckled, humoring Bobby with the use of his formal title as he continued making the bed.
Bobby chuckled back and shook his head in amusement as he proceeded to walk out of the room and made his way into the kitchen, turning the lights on to a dim setting as he went. He moved around and grabbed some ingredients from the pantry and some pans from the cupboard, before moving toward the fridge to get some milk and some eggs. He had just closed the door to the fridge when he heard Buck's not-so-quiet footfalls. He turned around just in time to see Buck step next to the counter, complete with his borrowed 'Kiss the Cook' apron on.
He raised an eyebrow and couldn't help the laugh that escaped him when Buck just grinned at him before taking stock of all the ingredients he had lined up on the countertop, and Bobby watched as his head snapped up to look at him and that all-too-familiar hopeful childlike twinkling he's seen so many times over the years at the station appeared in Buck's baby blue eyes.
"Are we making..," Buck trailed off like he couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Yeah, kiddo," Bobby replied with a nod and smile.
Buck smiled widely at that, but then his face morphed into a mixed expression of curiosity and confusion.
"But you said you only make your famous ricotta waffles whenever May and Harry are staying over because it's their favorite," he said after a moment, and Bobby heard the underlying insecurity that Buck had tried, yet failed, to mask.
"I don't see why I can't make it for one of my kids, especially when it's your favorite too, or am I wrong?" Bobby said, giving his son a knowing look at his question.
Buck felt the tip of his ears go pink at that and looked down as he struggled to find the words to say, but Bobby pulled him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's alright, kid. We'll have plenty of complete family breakfasts with your siblings soon. But right now, this is for you. Okay? I love you, Evan."
Buck felt his words get stuck in his throat at that.
All his life, he's been wanting to hear those three words from the Buckleys; wanting the validation that he was wanted—that he was loved. Growing up he did a lot of stupid things just to try and get them to say it to him, to have them act like they wanted him. But year after year after year, they never did. So he had assumed, and drilled into his head that maybe he was just so hard to love.
And yet, looking back at the past few months, he's heard Athena, Bobby, and even May and Harry say they love him like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
And maybe it was.
And maybe... maybe he wasn't so hard to love after all?
"No, Evan. You aren't hard to love at all," hearing Bobby's voice had Buck looking up at him, and he realized that he must've said that thought out loud.
Buck settled for nodding his head to respond as he didn't trust himself to speak with the lump in his throat. He blinked away the tears that were prickling his eyes and smiled when Bobby reached out to ruffle his curls.
"Come on, let's get started, grab the flour," Bobby instructed and Buck was more than happy to comply as he reached for a bowl and the flour.
Bobby watched as Buck moved seamlessly around the kitchen, watched as he measured and double-checked the measurements of the ingredients before dumping them into the bowl. He gave out a few instructions to the kid before he finally settled on watching him from the corner of his eyes as he, too, worked around the kitchen.
The fire captain had long ago figured out that the child in Buck has quite the long list of hurts and unseen bumps and bruises and wounds in need of healing, and he knows for sure that they won't be able to heal all of those years' worth of unseen hurts with only a couple of months.
And not for the first time did Bobby want to hop on the next available flight bound to Hershey, Pennsylvania, and rip the Buckleys a new one for ever making Buck feel like he didn't deserve a lot of things growing up, and worst of all, for making his son think that he was hard to love.
Bobby had sworn three months ago, with all that he was, that he would do just about anything to help keep his son's head above the water for as long as he could. He swore to always jump in after him when he slipped and fell into the deep end and to help him heal from all that there was for him to heal from.
Because if there was one thing Robert Nash was sure of, it was that no matter how difficult Buck's road to recovery might be, no matter how hard it might be for him and Athena to witness their eldest at his lowest of lows, he was sure that the Buckleys could never hold a candle to them because he and Athena have always been Buck's parents even before they all realized it.
Because, despite all of his insecurities and shortcomings, flaws and imperfections, visible and invisible scars, Bobby and Athena had always done the one thing the Buckleys never did and probably never will.
They loved him anyway.