call your therapist. // eddie diaz

iii. healing together

buck had known eddie long enough to recognize when something was off. it wasn’t always obvious - eddie was good at hiding behind his work, his responsibilities, and most of all, christopher. but lately, there had been a distance in eddie’s eyes, a weariness that went deeper than the long shifts and the stress of their job. buck wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but he had a pretty good idea it had something to do with me.

“man, you’ve been moody lately,” buck said one afternoon as they sat around the firehouse table, waiting for the next call to come in. he shot eddie a sideways glance, hoping to lighten the mood. “tou wanna talk about it, or are we just going to keep pretending everything’s fine?”

eddie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small, reluctant smile. “i’m not moody, buck. i’m just... tired.”

“tired, huh?” buck leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “because you seem a little more ‘brooding hero’ tired than ‘i didn’t get enough sleep’ tired. just saying.”

eddie huffed out a breath, shaking his head, but the smile didn’t completely disappear. “it’s nothing. really.”

but buck wasn’t about to let it go. he had a way of nudging people - especially eddie —
- without being too pushy, even when they needed it most. “you know, talking about stuff helps. maybe to a certain therapist we both know?”

the mention of me caught eddie off guard, and he blinked at buck, his jaw tensing slightly. “i don’t need therapy, buck. i’m fine.”

buck gave him a pointed look, leaning forward across the table. “yeah, well, i’m not saying you’re not fine, but therapy could still help. you’ve been holding a lot in, man. and we both know you don’t talk to anyone about this stuff unless we drag it out of you.”

eddie’s expression hardened just slightly, his shoulders stiffening. “i don’t need to be dragged anywhere,” he muttered, his gaze lowering.

buck frowned, not missing the way eddie deflected. “look, i get it. you don’t like talking about things — especially not about, you know, the big stuff. But we’ve all got things we need to work through. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot.”

eddie didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. buck could see the gears turning in his friend’s mind, the way eddie weighed every word, every possibility. finally, eddie let out a long sigh, his fingers drumming absently on the table.

“fine,” he said at last. “i’ll think about it. but don’t expect me to go spilling my guts.”

buck grinned, clapping eddie on the shoulder. “that’s all i ask, man. just... think about it.”

the following week, eddie reluctantly found himself sitting in my office, staring at the neatly arranged furniture, the soft lighting, the neutral colors designed to make him feel at ease. but he didn’t feel at ease. he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t expected. therapy wasn’t something he ever thought he’d need, and sitting here now, he wasn’t sure he could actually go through with it.

i sat across from him, my expression calm and open, giving him the space he needed. i didn’t push, didn’t pry. i just waited, letting the silence settle between us until eddie felt the pressure to speak.

“it’s weird being here,” eddie admitted, his voice quiet. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

i nodded. “it can feel strange at first, especially when you’re used to keeping things to yourself. but there’s no rush, eddie. we can take this as slow as you need.”