Eddie Diaz sat at the edge of the firehouse locker room, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the floor. The hum of conversation and laughter from the rest of the team floated in from the common area, but it felt distant, like white noise. His mind was racing, thoughts swirling around faster than he could keep up with. He couldn't stop thinking about Buck, and how everything had gone so wrong between them.

It hadn't always been this way. There had been a time when Buck had been Eddie's closest friend—someone he could count on no matter what, through all the chaos of work and the complications of raising Christopher. But now, all Eddie could feel was the weight of resentment, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite name. The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "right where you left me" echoed in his mind: "Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt..." He was stuck in a moment, unable to move forward, unable to let go.

Just then, the locker room door swung open, and Buck walked in, his expression neutral as he headed toward his own locker. The air between them was thick with tension, the kind that had been building for weeks. Eddie knew they needed to talk, but every time they got close, it felt like one of them pulled back, too afraid to address the growing rift between them.

"Eddie," Buck said, his voice careful, testing the waters.

Eddie looked up, his jaw clenched. "What?"

Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We need to talk. We can't keep doing this."

Eddie let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Doing what, Buck? Pretending everything's fine?"

Buck frowned, his face tightening with frustration. "I'm not pretending, Eddie. But you've been shutting me out, and I don't understand why."

Eddie stood up, the anger simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over. "Shutting you out? Buck, you don't get it. You don't get how much you push. You're always in my face, always trying to fix things, and sometimes... sometimes I need space."

Buck's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Eddie's words. "I'm trying to help, Eddie. That's what friends do. But you—" Buck's voice cracked slightly, betraying his emotions. "You keep pushing me away, and I don't know how to stop it."

Eddie crossed his arms, feeling the tightness in his chest. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell Buck that it wasn't as simple as just 'helping.' Buck had always been the one to rush in, to try and save the day, and while Eddie appreciated it at times, lately, it felt like Buck's need to be the hero was suffocating him. It was like Buck didn't trust Eddie to handle his own life.

"Maybe that's the problem," Eddie said, his voice lower now, more controlled. "Maybe you need to stop trying to fix everything for me."

Buck stared at him, hurt flashing across his face. "I'm not trying to fix you, Eddie. I just care. Is that such a bad thing?"

Eddie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not bad, Buck. But you don't know when to stop. You keep crossing lines, and I can't... I can't keep doing this."

There was a long pause, the silence between them heavy with all the unsaid things that had been building up for months. Buck took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You know, Eddie, I thought we were family. I thought I was part of your life—of Christopher's life."

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at Buck's words, but he didn't know how to explain what he was feeling. "You are, Buck. But things have changed. I've changed."

"Changed?" Buck echoed, his voice incredulous. "What does that even mean? I'm still here, Eddie. I'm right where you left me."

Eddie's heart clenched at Buck's words, because they hit too close to home. The truth was, Buck had always been there for him, standing by his side through everything—through Christopher's challenges, through Eddie's darkest moments. But somewhere along the way, Eddie had started to feel trapped by that loyalty, as if he couldn't breathe without Buck watching his every move.

"I'm not asking you to disappear," Eddie said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But I need space. I need to figure things out on my own."

Buck's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Eddie, his voice rising slightly. "Figure things out? Eddie, I've been right here, trying to help, trying to be there for you, and you're telling me you need space? After everything we've been through?"

Eddie looked away, unable to meet Buck's gaze. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Try," Buck said, his voice raw. "Because I feel like I'm losing you, and I don't even know why."

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didn't want to hurt Buck, didn't want to make him feel like he wasn't important. But the truth was, Eddie had been carrying so much—his own struggles with mental health, his fears about being a single father, his need to prove to himself that he could handle it all. And Buck, with his good intentions, had started to feel like an anchor pulling him down, rather than the lifeline he had once been.

"It's not about you," Eddie said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's about me. I'm trying to figure out who I am without relying on everyone else."

Buck's face softened, and for a moment, Eddie thought he might understand. But then Buck shook his head, his expression hardening. "You don't have to do this alone, Eddie. You don't have to push me away just because you're struggling."

"I know that," Eddie said, his voice breaking. "But I can't... I can't keep depending on you. It's not fair to either of us."

Buck stared at him, his blue eyes filled with hurt and confusion. "So what? You want me to just back off? To stop caring?"

Eddie shook his head, frustration bubbling up again. "No, Buck. I just need you to stop smothering me. I need to figure things out for myself."

The room felt colder, the silence between them deafening. Buck took a step back, his face a mix of anger and heartbreak. "You think I'm smothering you?"

Eddie nodded, feeling a weight lift off his chest, though it brought no relief. "Yeah, Buck. Sometimes, you don't know when to stop."

Buck let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I can't believe this. I've been here for you, Eddie. Through everything. And now you're telling me I'm too much?"

Eddie didn't know what else to say. He could see the pain in Buck's eyes, the betrayal written all over his face, but he didn't know how to make Buck understand that it wasn't about him—it was about Eddie trying to reclaim his own sense of control.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said, his voice soft but firm. "I didn't want it to come to this."

Buck clenched his fists at his sides, taking a deep breath before speaking. "You know what, Eddie? Fine. If you need space, you've got it. But don't expect me to be standing here waiting when you decide you're ready."

With that, Buck turned and walked out of the locker room, leaving Eddie standing alone, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on his shoulders.


The days that followed were some of the hardest Eddie had ever experienced. The firehouse felt different without the usual camaraderie between him and Buck. They still worked together, still handled calls and emergencies with the same professionalism, but the easy friendship that had once defined their relationship was gone.

Eddie found himself questioning everything—whether he had made the right decision, whether he had been too harsh. But every time he started to doubt himself, the lyrics from "right where you left me" echoed in his mind: "I stayed there, dust collected on my pinned-up hair..." He was stuck in that moment, unable to move forward, unable to go back.

One evening, after a particularly tough shift, Eddie sat in his living room, staring at a photo of him, Buck, and Christopher at the beach. It had been taken during one of their rare days off, back when everything between them had felt simple, easy. Now, it felt like a different lifetime.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Eddie's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't expecting anyone, but when he opened the door, there was Buck, standing on the other side with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Can we talk?" Buck asked, his voice calmer than Eddie had expected.

Eddie nodded, stepping aside to let him in. They sat down on the couch, the silence between them heavy with all the things left unsaid.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Buck began, his voice measured. "About how I've been smothering you."

Eddie looked at him, unsure of where the conversation was headed. "Buck, I didn't mean to hurt you—"

"I know," Buck interrupted, his tone soft but firm. "But you did. And I've been thinking about why it hurt so much."

Eddie stayed quiet, letting Buck continue.

"I think I've been trying so hard to be there for you because... because I'm afraid of being alone," Buck admitted, his voice shaking slightly. "After everything that's happened, after all the people I've lost, I guess I didn't realize how much I was relying on you. And maybe that wasn't fair."

Eddie's heart ached at Buck's words, but he stayed silent, letting his friend speak.

"I'm sorry," Buck said quietly, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't breathe. I just didn't want to lose you."

Eddie swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "Buck, you didn't lose me. I just... I needed to find myself."

Buck nodded, though his expression was still tinged with sadness. "I get that now. And I'll give you the space you need. But I hope... I hope we can find our way back."

Eddie looked at him, his heart full of conflicting emotions. He didn't know if things between them would ever be the same, but for the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope.

"Me too," Eddie said softly.

And in that moment, they both knew it wasn't the end. It was just another chapter in their complicated, messy friendship—a friendship that had weathered the storm and would, hopefully, find its way back to solid ground.