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

Even More Sobs

The house was still, cloaked in the kind of late-night silence that often felt heavier than it should. Eddie lay awake in his room, his hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him, his mind circling the same thoughts—Buck. His pain, his struggles, the overwhelming storm inside him. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop worrying.

He turned his head toward the door, listening for any sound from the guest room. Nothing. Maybe Buck had finally found some peace tonight. Eddie exhaled slowly, hoping against hope.

In the guest room, though, peace was the last thing Buck felt.

Buck sat on the bed, his foot tapping incessantly against the floor. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt, pulling at the fabric until it stretched out of shape. His brain wouldn't slow down, his thoughts racing so fast that he couldn't grab hold of a single one. His ADHD had always been like this, a runaway train he couldn't stop. But tonight was different. Tonight, the chaos in his mind mixed with the ache in his chest, a suffocating weight pressing down on him.

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to ground himself, trying to stop the spiral before it consumed him. His eyes drifted to his phone on the nightstand, the screen dark and silent.

Call Maddie.

The thought came unbidden, a reflex from years of needing her whenever things became too much. Maddie always knew what to do, what to say. He grabbed his phone and opened her contact, his fingers trembling as he hit the call button.

It rang once, twice, three times, and then—

"Hey, it's Maddie. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you!"

Her chipper voicemail hit him like a punch to the gut. Buck's breath hitched, his chest tightening as disappointment crashed over him. She wasn't there. She couldn't help him.

He hung up without leaving a message, his fingers hovering over the screen. His mind raced, desperate for something—anything—to cling to. And then he saw it, a number he hadn't deleted.

Mumma.

It was still there, buried in his contacts. He knew it wouldn't work, knew it was impossible, but his thumb moved on its own, pressing the number.

The phone rang.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He held his breath, a tiny flicker of hope sparking to life despite everything. Maybe, somehow—

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end wasn't hers. It was a stranger's, soft and uncertain.

Buck froze, his entire body going cold. His lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to whisper, "Mumma?"

Across the hall, Eddie heard it. That one word, spoken so softly yet filled with so much pain, sent a chill down his spine. He sat up in bed, his brow furrowing.

The woman on the phone hesitated. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "You must have the wrong number. This isn't..." Her voice trailed off, as if she could sense the rawness in Buck's tone. "I think the number must have been changed."

Buck's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white. "Oh," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Okay. Sorry."

He hung up before she could say anything else, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the bed with a soft thud. For a moment, he just sat there, staring blankly at the wall. And then it hit him.

All of it.

The grief, the loss, the diagnosis, the memories—all crashing down on him like a tidal wave he couldn't escape. A strangled sob tore from his throat as he doubled over, his arms wrapping around his stomach.

Eddie was out of bed in an instant, his heart racing as he rushed to the guest room. He opened the door without knocking, his eyes immediately landing on Buck.

Buck was on the edge of the bed, his body curled in on itself, his shoulders shaking violently. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, each one more desperate than the last.

"Buck!" Eddie said, hurrying to his side. He knelt in front of him, one hand on Buck's knee, the other hovering uncertainly. "Hey, hey, look at me. What's going on?"

Buck shook his head, his hands clutching at his chest. "I—She's gone," he choked out, his voice breaking. "She's really gone, Eddie."

Eddie's heart twisted painfully. He didn't need to ask who Buck was talking about. "I know," he said softly, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. "I know, Buck. I'm here."

Buck's breaths grew faster, his chest rising and falling erratically. "I called her number," he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought—I don't know what I thought. But someone else answered. It's not hers anymore. It's not hers!"

The anguish in his voice was unbearable. Eddie's grip on Buck's knee tightened, his other hand reaching out to rest on Buck's shoulder. "Buck, listen to me," he said firmly. "You're okay. You're safe. Just breathe with me, okay?"

But Buck couldn't hear him. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the walls pressing tighter and tighter. The sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else. His vision blurred, dark spots creeping in at the edges.

"I can't—I can't do this," Buck gasped, his hands clawing at his chest as if trying to tear the panic out of himself. "It's too much. I can't—"

Eddie grabbed Buck's hands, holding them tightly in his own. "Yes, you can," he said, his voice unwavering. "You're not alone in this, Buck. I've got you."

Buck shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "It hurts," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Everything hurts."

Eddie's chest ached at the sight of Buck's pain. "I know it does," he said, his voice soft but steady. "But you're not alone. You don't have to carry this by yourself. I'm here, Buck. I'm right here."

Buck's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his breakdown. He collapsed against Eddie, burying his face in Eddie's shoulder. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, holding him as tightly as he could, as if his embrace could shield Buck from the weight of his grief.

"You're okay," Eddie murmured, his voice soothing. "You're going to be okay. Just breathe with me, okay? In and out. Nice and slow."

He started taking deep, deliberate breaths, exaggerating the rhythm so Buck could follow. It took a few moments, but eventually, Buck's ragged gasps began to sync with Eddie's steady inhales and exhales.

"That's it," Eddie said softly. "You're doing so good, Buck. Just keep breathing."

Buck clung to him, his fingers digging into Eddie's shirt as if letting go would mean drowning. The storm inside him began to calm, the suffocating weight in his chest lifting ever so slightly.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of Buck's head, his own tears spilling over. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered. "Even when it doesn't feel like it. Even when it's hard. You're not alone in this, Buck. You've got me. Always."

Buck didn't respond, but he tightened his grip on Eddie, his breathing slowly evening out. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the room filled with the quiet sound of their breaths and the occasional sniffle.

Finally, Buck lifted his head, his eyes red and swollen. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Eddie shook his head, brushing a tear from Buck's cheek. "Don't ever apologize for feeling what you're feeling," he said firmly. "You're allowed to hurt, Buck. You've been through so much. But you don't have to go through it alone."

Buck nodded weakly, his lip trembling. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie smiled softly, his hand still resting on Buck's cheek. "Always," he said.

In that moment, the weight of the night didn't seem so unbearable. The pain was still there, but so was the love, the support, the promise of not having to face it alone. And for now, that was enough.