It was me in there( 9-1-1 )

The Next Morning

The morning sun streamed through the window of the firehouse as Buck stepped into the bullpen, the warm light offering a sharp contrast to the cold, bruised reality of his body. His arms were stiff, his muscles sore from the fight that had happened the night before—his father's fists, relentless and unforgiving. Bruises were already forming across his face, along his jawline, and his lip was split in several places. The cuts on his hands weren't much better, ragged and raw from the harsh impact with his father's walls.

He tried to walk with his usual swagger, like nothing was wrong. He was used to hiding it, after all. Buck had spent his entire life pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. But today, it was harder than ever to mask the pain, to push past the tightness in his chest that wouldn't let him breathe right. The bruises, the cuts, the blood—they were all too real, too impossible to ignore. And the worst part? The worst part was that he didn't even know how to explain it.

The team was already in full swing, gathered around the kitchen counter, preparing coffee and making small talk. As Buck walked in, he caught sight of Eddie in the corner of his eye. His boyfriend's face fell when their eyes met, a flash of concern crossing Eddie's features before he quickly masked it with a small, tight smile. But it didn't escape Buck. He could feel the weight of Eddie's gaze on him, and it made him want to shrink, to crawl into himself and disappear.

"Buck!" Chimney greeted him first, his voice warm, but the moment he caught sight of Buck's face, the energy shifted. "Whoa, man. What happened to you?"

Buck froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. His stomach churned. He could feel Eddie's presence behind him, could sense the quiet desperation in his boyfriend's stance, but Buck couldn't face them. Not like this. Not when he still hadn't even fully accepted what had happened the night before.

"Yeah, dude," Hen added, walking over with concern written all over her face. "You look like you went ten rounds with a truck."

Buck plastered a smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know me, Hen. Always getting into trouble." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

"Buck..." Eddie's voice, soft but firm, cut through the tension in the room. Buck didn't have to look at him to know what was coming. Eddie always knew. Always saw through the cracks in his armor.

But Buck shook his head slightly, a movement that went unnoticed by the others, but Eddie would catch it. He always did. "It's fine. Just a little accident, nothing serious," Buck muttered, trying to play it off.

But Hen wasn't convinced. She glanced at Eddie, then back at Buck, her eyes narrowed. "An accident, huh? Because it looks like you've been hit. By someone."

Buck's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't handle this. Not here. Not in front of all of them.

Before he could say anything more, Bobby stepped into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Buck's bruised face. "What's going on here?" Bobby's tone was direct, not unkind, but still commanding. He had seen Buck through everything—his ups, his downs, the jokes, the facade. And right now, Buck's mask was slipping.

"I told you, it's fine," Buck replied, this time a little more forcefully. "Just a little accident, nothing to worry about."

But Bobby wasn't having it. "No, Buck, this doesn't look like an accident. What happened?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick and suffocating. Buck opened his mouth, but no words came out. How could he explain it? How could he tell them that his father—his own father—had done this to him? The man who was supposed to protect him, to love him, had raised a fist to him again. And Buck was just expected to... deal with it. To take it and say nothing.

Buck's eyes flickered briefly to Eddie, who was standing off to the side, watching him with a quiet intensity. Eddie's jaw was clenched, and his body was taut, like he was trying to hold himself back from doing something—anything—to fix it.

Buck felt Eddie's presence like a weight on his back. He didn't want to burden Eddie with this. He couldn't. But Eddie wasn't like the rest of the team. Eddie knew him better than anyone. And Eddie had always tried to get him to open up, to tell the truth. But Buck couldn't. He just... couldn't.

"Buck," Eddie murmured softly, taking a few steps toward him. His voice was low, but Buck could hear the concern, the frustration. "You have to tell them. You don't have to do this alone."

Buck flinched at the words, the soft pressure of Eddie's hand on his arm feeling like a heavy weight. It was gentle, but it felt like too much. Too much too soon. His breath hitched in his throat, and his pulse quickened. The walls were closing in on him, and he could feel the panic creeping in. His father's angry face was all he could see, his fists pounding into Buck's body, his words slicing through him like a knife.

"No," Buck choked out, stepping away from Eddie's touch, his hands shaking. "I can't. Please. Just... just leave it alone."

Bobby's gaze softened, but it didn't let up. He had dealt with enough to know when something wasn't right. "Buck, you don't have to keep hiding it. If something's wrong, we'll help."

"I'm fine," Buck repeated, his voice starting to crack, and he hated it. He hated how weak he sounded, how the panic was bubbling over, just waiting to spill out. "I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help. Just leave it alone, please."

The silence in the room was deafening. Chimney exchanged a glance with Hen, who looked equally worried, but neither of them said anything. Eddie was still standing behind Buck, his body tense, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

"Alright, Buck," Bobby said after a beat, his voice quiet but understanding. "We won't push. But you know where to find us if you change your mind."

Buck nodded quickly, relieved that Bobby had backed off, but still feeling the weight of his words. He didn't know how much longer he could keep lying, how much longer he could keep pretending that everything was fine. Because it wasn't. Not anymore. Not when the bruises were still fresh, and the memories of his father's fists were still haunting him.

As the team went back to their routines, Buck remained still, trying to keep his composure. Eddie's gaze never left him, though, and Buck could feel the unspoken tension between them, the silent plea for him to finally open up. But Buck wasn't ready. Not yet. And maybe he never would be