training wheels. // evan 'buck' buckley

xiv. drunk in my mind

the firehouse hummed with activity as the team returned from another call, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. but eddie’s mind was elsewhere, replaying the earlier confrontation between buck and i over and over in his head. he knew why i'd been distant with buck lately, but seeing the argument unfold had only deepened his concern. i was more than a friend; i was family. watching me struggle was breaking his heart.

he glanced at buck, who was aggressively scrubbing down the fire engine, his brows furrowed in concentration. eddie could tell he was trying to work out his frustration through physical exertion, but the effort seemed futile. the more buck worked, the more tense he appeared.

eddie wiped the sweat from his brow, pondering how to approach the situation. buck was clearly spiraling, but pushing him might just set him off further. he needed to tread carefully, but he couldn't just stand by and watch his best friend unravel. the growing silence was beginning to weigh on everyone.

meanwhile, i sat alone in my dimly lit apartment, staring blankly at the half-empty bottle of vodka on my kitchen table. my mind was a haze of emotions - anger, sadness, confusion - all swirling together with the alcohol i'd consumed far too quickly. i hadn’t intended to drink that much, but once i started, it felt impossible to stop.

my phone vibrated with a new text, but i didn’t bother to check it. the thought of facing buck - or anyone, for that matter - seemed too daunting. instead, i took another swig from the bottle, the liquid burning as it went down. i was distantly aware that this wasn’t the solution, but i couldn’t seem to stop myself.

two hours passed, and the apartment grew darker as the sun dipped below the horizon. i sat motionless at the table, lost in my thoughts, tears streaming silently down my face. the alcohol dulled the edges of my pain, but it couldn’t erase it completely. i hated feeling this way - lost, hurt, and angry. but most of all, i hated that buck was at the center of it all.

back at the firehouse, buck finally threw down the rag he’d been using and stalked off to the locker room. he splashed cold water on his face, trying to cool the simmering anger that refused to fade. he couldn’t stop thinking about me - the way i'd looked at him before i stormed out, the hurt in my eyes.

“what the hell is wrong with me?” buck muttered to his reflection. he knew he should’ve gone after me, but pride - or maybe fear - had held him back. now, the regret was eating him alive. he grabbed his phone and hovered over my contact, his thumb trembling with indecision.

finally, he hit the call button, but it went straight to voicemail. of course, i wasn’t going to answer. he threw his phone down in frustration, cursing under his breath. he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing, not when i was out there hurting because of him.

without thinking, buck grabbed his keys and left the station, ignoring the questioning looks from his team. he had to see me. he needed to fix this, somehow.

when buck arrived at my apartment, he hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. he knew i was home - my car was parked outside - but the silence that greeted him only deepened his anxiety. after a few more knocks with no answer, he pulled out the spare key i'd given him months ago. he didn’t want to use it, but he couldn’t just walk away.

the door creaked open, and buck stepped inside, the apartment eerily quiet. his eyes scanned the room until they landed on my figure slumped at the kitchen table. relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by concern when he noticed the empty vodka bottle and my tear-streaked face.

“charlie?” buck’s voice was soft, almost tentative as he approached me. when i didn’t respond, he sighed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “why do you always have to make this so complicated?”