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

Shaken up

The walk didn't end so much as it dissolved into something unspoken. By the time Buck and Eddie returned to the house, Buck seemed calmer, though the tension hadn't left his frame entirely. Eddie watched him carefully as they stepped inside, his movements deliberate, his breathing more controlled than it had been earlier in the day.

Buck hesitated in the doorway before heading straight to the couch, collapsing onto it with a sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples like he was trying to push away the thoughts that had followed him home.

"You want some water?" Eddie offered, walking toward the kitchen.

Buck nodded silently, still staring down at the floor.

Eddie filled a glass and returned to find Buck hadn't moved. He placed the glass on the table in front of him and took the seat beside him, waiting for Buck to speak first.

Minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the fridge in the other room. Eddie wasn't in any rush. He could wait as long as Buck needed.

Finally, Buck lifted his head, his voice quiet but steady. "It's like...everything feels too much all at once, you know? And I don't know how to turn it off."

Eddie nodded, his expression soft. "I know."

Buck glanced at him, his brow furrowing. "Do you?"

Eddie leaned back, letting his arms rest on the back of the couch. "Maybe not exactly like you feel it, but yeah. There've been times when I felt like I couldn't breathe, like my own head was trying to drown me."

Buck tilted his head, curiosity mingling with the vulnerability in his eyes. "What did you do?"

Eddie exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. "I started small. Focused on what I could control, even if it was just my breathing or the fact that my feet were on the ground. And when that didn't work, I let myself fall apart. But I didn't stay there, Buck. I let people help me get back up."

Buck swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's so hard to ask for help," he admitted.

Eddie smiled faintly. "Yeah, it is. But it's worth it."

That evening, Buck retreated to the guest room earlier than usual. Eddie didn't push him, figuring he probably needed the space. But as the hours wore on, Eddie found himself standing outside Buck's door, debating whether to check on him.

He knocked softly. "Buck? You good?"

There was a long pause before Buck's muffled voice came through. "Yeah. Just tired."

Eddie hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Buck replied, though his tone wasn't convincing.

Eddie returned to the living room, but the pit of worry in his stomach didn't fade.

In the early hours of the morning, Eddie woke to the sound of muffled cries. His heart jumped as he sat up, the fog of sleep clearing quickly. The cries weren't loud, but they were enough to send him rushing toward the guest room.

When he opened the door, he found Buck sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Buck?" Eddie said gently, stepping inside.

Buck flinched but didn't look up. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Eddie crossed the room and crouched in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. "Don't apologize. Talk to me."

Buck shook his head, his hands gripping his hair tightly. "I don't even know what's wrong," he said, his voice breaking. "I just—everything feels wrong. I can't stop it."

Eddie sat down beside him, his presence solid and grounding. "Okay," he said softly. "Let's start with what you're feeling right now. What's going through your head?"

Buck took a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I feel like I'm drowning, like I can't catch my breath. And my chest—it feels so tight. I'm so tired, Eddie. I'm tired of feeling like this."

Eddie's heart ached at the raw pain in Buck's voice. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You're not alone," he said firmly. "I'm here. We'll get through this together."

Buck leaned into him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "What if I never feel normal again?"

Eddie tightened his hold on him. "You will," he said. "It's going to take time, but you'll get there. I believe in you."

For a long time, they sat there in the quiet, Eddie's steady presence anchoring Buck as he slowly began to calm down.

The next morning, Buck seemed quieter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a spark of determination that hadn't been there before.

"I want to try," he said over breakfast, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his gaze. "I want to figure this out. For real."

Eddie smiled, pride swelling in his chest. "That's all I can ask for, Buck. One step at a time."

Buck nodded, a small, hesitant smile playing at his lips. For the first time in days, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn't drowning after all.