Evan "Buck" Buckley sat in the dim glow of his apartment, the faint flicker of a candle barely lighting the room. The remnants of what was supposed to be their six-month anniversary dinner sat untouched on the kitchen counter, the wine glass he'd poured for Tommy Kinard still half-full. His chest ached with the weight of the breakup, the fresh wound of their final conversation just hours earlier still bleeding in his mind.

The room was too quiet. Too empty. Too filled with memories that Buck couldn't shake. He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes as he let the night play over and over again like a haunting movie reel.

Tommy stood at the threshold of Buck's apartment, his jaw tight, hands fidgeting in the pockets of his leather jacket. The air between them felt heavier than it had in weeks—months, even. Buck could feel it the moment Tommy walked through the door.

"We need to talk," Tommy said, his voice a blend of regret and determination.

Buck forced a laugh, trying to break the tension. "Not exactly how I pictured celebrating six months with you."

Tommy didn't smile. "It's not how I pictured it either."

The silence stretched between them like a canyon. Buck's heart thudded in his chest as Tommy stepped closer, sitting across from him on the armrest of the couch. Buck couldn't help but notice the way Tommy's hands trembled, the way his eyes avoided meeting Buck's.

"It's Abby, isn't it?" Buck finally asked, his voice cracking.

Tommy flinched. That was all the confirmation Buck needed.

"I—" Tommy began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. "It's not like that, Buck. It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Buck shot back, standing abruptly. He raked a hand through his messy blond hair, pacing the room. "You've been distant for weeks. I thought it was me! But it's not, is it? It's her."

"She called me, okay?" Tommy admitted, standing now too. "I wasn't expecting it, and when she did, everything I thought I'd buried just... resurfaced."

Buck stared at him, his chest heaving with a mixture of heartbreak and anger. "She was your fiancée, Tommy. And she left. She left you."

Tommy looked away, shame etched across his face. "I know. And I thought I'd moved on. I thought I could give you everything, Buck. But—"

"You can't," Buck finished for him, his voice a whisper now.

Tommy stepped closer, his brown eyes glassy. "I love you, Buck. But there's a part of me that never stopped loving her, and it's not fair to you to keep pretending like I've fully let her go."

Buck felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. "Do you love her more than me?"

"I don't know," Tommy admitted, and it was the raw honesty in his voice that hurt the most. "But if I don't figure this out, I'll never be able to give you the love you deserve."

And just like that, Buck's world crumbled.

Buck replayed the moment Tommy walked out of his apartment, the sound of the door clicking shut like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. His mind drifted to the happier moments—the moments he thought would last forever.

He remembered their first kiss, that night on the rooftop when Tommy, a firefighter from a neighboring station, had leaned in close, their faces lit by the city lights. Tommy had hesitated, searching Buck's eyes for permission, before closing the distance. Buck had never felt so alive.

He remembered the night they visited Billy Boyles's grave together, the unspoken solidarity they shared as firefighters who had lost too many friends. Tommy had held his hand the entire time, and Buck had felt an anchor in him that he'd never had before.

And then there was the Eras Tour. Tommy had surprised Buck with tickets, knowing Buck had a secret love for Taylor Swift. They'd screamed the lyrics to Lover together, arms wrapped around each other as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Can I go where you go?" Tommy had sung to him, his voice just loud enough for Buck to hear. And in that moment, Buck had believed they were unbreakable.

Two days later, Buck sat in the firehouse locker room, staring blankly at the picture of him and Tommy he'd taped inside his locker months ago. Eddie Diaz walked in, immediately sensing something was wrong.

"Buck," Eddie said softly, sitting beside him. "You look like hell."

Buck huffed a bitter laugh. "That's because I feel like it."

Eddie didn't press, waiting patiently for Buck to open up. Eventually, the dam broke.

"It's over," Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Me and Tommy. He... He still has feelings for Abby."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Abby? Your ex?"

Buck nodded, the pain fresh all over again. "She was almost his fiancée. And now, I guess she's back in his life."

Eddie sighed, his hand resting on Buck's shoulder. "Buck, I know this hurts, but you can't control how he feels—or how she feels. All you can do is take care of yourself."

Buck looked at Eddie, tears brimming in his eyes. "How? How do I move on when I thought he was it?"

"You focus on the people who love you," Eddie said simply. "Me, Chris, Maddie—we're here for you. And when you're ready, you'll find someone who chooses you, Buck. Every day, without hesitation."

Buck nodded, letting the tears fall freely now. Eddie pulled him into a hug, a steady presence in the storm of Buck's emotions.

As Buck clung to his best friend, he felt the faintest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he'd survive this heartbreak after all.