training wheels. // evan 'buck' buckley

xlviii. chasing shadows

i walked up to the station, trying to steel myself against the tightening feeling in my chest. i hadn’t been around much lately, and i knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed. every step toward the familiar doors felt heavier, like i was walking into a past i wasn’t sure i belonged to anymore.

i pushed through the door, greeted by the hum of activity as the team moved through their routines. chimney was the first to spot me, throwing a wave from across the room. “charlie! long time no see!”

i forced a smile, raising a hand in response. “yeah, just…busy.”

the interactions felt a little stilted, each conversation laced with questions i knew they wouldn’t ask out loud. hen gave me a warm, welcoming hug, and bobby, who always seemed to know when something was off, gave me a soft nod of acknowledgment. but my chest tightened when eddie came into view, and for a brief moment, we locked eyes. there was a silent understanding between us, a shared regret that hung in the air. we both knew we'd crossed lines that could never be redrawn.

eddie nodded, a stiff, uncertain gesture, his face barely masking the discomfort. it was all i needed to know this visit had been a mistake. suddenly, the warmth of the firehouse felt suffocating, each familiar face a reminder of everything i'd lost, everything i'd screwed up. without another word, i turned and left, the door closing quietly behind me.

after that day, i stopped trying. every time my phone buzzed with a message from buck or anyone else, i silenced it, letting the notifications pile up. i couldn’t handle it, not with the weight of regret sitting so heavily on my shoulders. it was easier to disappear, to stay hidden away in my apartment where no one could see me unraveling.

the first night i poured myself a drink was a blur, one glass turning into another until the pain dulled to something i could barely feel. days started blending together, the bottles stacking up as i drowned myself in whiskey and silence, trying to forget the looks on my friends’ faces, eddie’s tense nod, the guilt of bobby’s disappointment. the alcohol was a shield, numbing my from everything that hurt too much to think about.

meanwhile, buck found himself pacing, anxiety gnawing at him as he called me for what felt like the hundredth time, each unanswered attempt leaving him feeling more defeated. he couldn’t shake the guilt, couldn’t stop wondering if his actions had driven me away. from the lawsuit against the city and the department to the mess with lucy and the way things had ended between us - he was convinced i was avoiding him because of his mistakes.

desperate for answers, he found himself seeking out lucy. she’d been there through some of his lowest moments, and despite the tension between them, he needed to talk to someone who understood the storm he’d created.

lucy looked at him with something between sympathy and guilt as they sat in a quiet corner of a coffee shop. “you still haven’t heard from her?”

buck shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “i don’t know what i did. i mean, i know what i did,” he muttered, “but i thought we could get past it.”

lucy’s expression softened. “maybe she just needs time. you’ve been through a lot.”

buck stared into his coffee, his voice barely a whisper. “i didn’t even care about the lawsuit or the money. i just wanted my job back. i wanted my family back. i wanted charlie back.”

lucy’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, they offered you a settlement?”

he nodded slowly, frustration and sadness lacing his words. “yeah, a lot, actually. but it wasn’t about the money. i dropped the lawsuit. i just want things to be the way they were.”

they sat in silence, the weight of buck’s confession hanging between them.

the silence of my apartment was deafening, filling every corner like a fog that weighed heavy on my chest. days blended together in a hazy spiral of alcohol and regret, each one slipping into the next without meaning. the only constants were the bottles scattered around, reminders of every bad decision i'd made, and the memory of that strained look eddie had given me in the firehouse. i barely remembered how it felt to be part of something, to be around my friends, to be happy.