bewereofthemoon
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Buck makes Eddie feel hopeful. He makes him forget himself. He makes him think that there’s a slither of possibility in which Eddie can give everything, can hand over every part of himself in exchange for every part of Buck. It’s a dizzying experience, to doubt yourself so completely and then with a flash of Buck’s smile, want to try, try to throw caution to the wind because Buck would make it so good, easier than anything has ever been before.
or; eddie diaz moves into buck's house post stabbing. eddie drinks various fun, juice-adjacent drinks. eddie wants, wants, wants.
Bookmarked by bewereofthemoon
11 Jun 2026
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Buck’s hair is gray at the temples, buzzed neatly on the sides and a bit longer and curlier on top than Chris remembers him wearing it, and there’s a new scar through one of his eyebrows. He looks good, like he’s living a happy life, and the only possible reason Chris can imagine for Buck to be here at Helena Diaz’s funeral in El Paso is that Chris’s father brought him.
“Why would you come?” Chris snaps at him.
Buck blinks. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
“She didn’t mean anything to you.”
“I’m not here for her,” Buck scoffs. “She is dead. I’m here for him.”
or
Chris is forced to grapple with the choice he made eleven years ago when his father comes back for Helena’s funeral.
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Bookmarked by bewereofthemoon
06 Jun 2026
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His reflection is pallid, eyes dull. He’s lost weight, and somehow didn’t notice it until he looked in this mirror eight hundred miles away from the one he’s looked in every day for months. He notes that he’s split his lip open chewing on it, but his body doesn’t move to wipe that blood away. He shaved with Buck’s razor this afternoon before he put his funeral suit on, the one Buck bought for him despite his admittedly weak protestations, and he nicked the wing of his jaw. He was right earlier. The circles beneath his eyes are dark as plumbs.
There is something wrong with him.
Eddie tugs the sleeves of Buck’s sweatshirt down over his stiff hands before he goes back to bed, so at least if he starts bleeding again he won’t ruin Buck’s nice soft sheets.
*
Eddie develops stigmata.
Bookmarked by bewereofthemoon
31 May 2026
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There’s no marriage left to salvage. Shannon left him two years ago, and whatever fragile hope he was holding onto, whatever flickered in their bed two days ago, died the moment she recognised Buck.
But that’s not what he tells Buck.
“Right,” Eddie says, shifting his weight, crossing his arms across his chest. “And Shannon’s back, I mean you saw her the other day, so we’re gonna—” Eddie takes a breath. “—try again. And me and you can, you know, move on.”
Buck indulges in a threesome with a married couple in El Paso, Texas. Two years later, Eddie Diaz joins the 118. Buck really wishes those two facts weren’t related.
Bookmarked by bewereofthemoon
12 Mar 2026
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"Want to tell me what happened?"
Eddie doesn't. In fact, he can't think of anything he'd want less. Yet, there's something in her voice that soothes, just a little, the inferno and eases the anguish. He exhales.
"I just got angry. I'm not sure why. He didn't do anything wrong." Eddie is a monstrous creature baring its teeth. A shapeless shadow made from broken bones and despair. He's barely human. He's a child dressed in his father's too big clothes choking on his own words. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Maddie hums thoughtfully, understandingly, "it happens sometimes. We all have bad days, Buck understands that. I'm sure it'll be all forgiven by tomorrow"
A guttural groan claws its way out of him. Maddie takes it for the what if it isn't that it means.
"Come on, you're Buck-and-Eddie! Nothing could ever pull you guys apart."
OR; Eddie breaks a glass and Buck fixes it: an exploration of Eddie's struggles with anger, joy, and himself.
Bookmarked by bewereofthemoon
25 Feb 2026