Buddie: Partners in Fire

Chapter 73

Scene: Eddie's Childhood bedroom

Packing up didn’t take long, but it felt like each action carried the weight of everything they were leaving behind. Eddie moved through the room with a rigid, methodical precision. He folded his clothes neatly, placing each item into his suitcase with care, but there was no life in his movements. It was like watching someone go through the motions, mechanically doing what needed to be done without thinking or feeling. Buck noticed the way Eddie’s hands trembled slightly as he zipped up the suitcase, his face drawn and pale.

The room they’d shared over the past couple of days was small, but it had given them some privacy amidst the whirlwind of family and mourning. It held remnants of the past few days—an unmade bed, shoes by the door, and a quiet tension that hadn’t left since they first arrived. The scent of Eddie’s cologne still lingered in the air, mixed with the faint smell of sweat and stress. For a brief moment, Buck caught Eddie pausing by the window, his hand resting against the old wooden frame as he stared out at the backyard.

It was the backyard Eddie had played in as a child. The place where he’d climbed trees, kicked soccer balls, and scraped his knees. Buck imagined Eddie seeing flashes of his younger self out there, a time when things were simpler, before the weight of adulthood and grief had settled so heavily on his shoulders. Eddie didn’t say anything, though. He just stood there for a second longer, then turned back to finish packing without a word.

Buck, meanwhile, moved around the room more quickly, his focus split between gathering his own things and keeping an eye on Eddie. He knew his boyfriend wasn’t just packing clothes—he was trying to pack away all the emotions he couldn’t handle right now. But Buck also knew emotions like that had a way of spilling out when least expected, no matter how hard you tried to contain them. He didn’t push, though. Not yet. Instead, he silently gathered his own belongings, folding his shirts haphazardly, not caring about the wrinkles.

Once Buck finished, he zipped up his bag and glanced over at Eddie. His boyfriend was still standing by his suitcase, staring at it like it held something far more significant than just a change of clothes. Buck wanted to reach out, to touch him, to offer some kind of comfort, but he wasn’t sure if Eddie would accept it right now. The air between them was thick with unspoken things.

Finally, Buck broke the silence.

Buck: “We should probably tell your parents we’re leaving. Just so they don’t worry.”

Eddie’s reaction was immediate, his body tensing as if Buck had suggested something unbearable. His hand clenched around the zipper of his suitcase, his knuckles turning white.

Eddie: “I can’t, Buck.”

His voice was low, strained, like he was holding back a flood of emotions.

Eddie: “I don’t… I don’t want to explain anything to them. I can’t face them right now.”

The thought of confronting his parents, of seeing the disappointment or confusion in their eyes, was more than Eddie could handle. He could barely manage his own emotions—he didn’t have the strength to deal with theirs too. His relationship with his parents had always been complicated, and right now, the last thing he needed was another conversation where he’d have to justify his feelings or explain why he needed to leave.

Buck watched him for a moment, seeing the tension in Eddie’s posture, the way his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He wanted to argue, to suggest that maybe it was better to just tell them and get it over with, but he also knew when to back off. Eddie didn’t need more pressure right now.

Eddie: “Can we just tell Pepa?”

Eddie asked, his voice quieter now, more pleading.

Eddie: “She’ll understand. She won’t try to keep us here.”