9-1-1 · firefighters · buck buckley · eddie diaz · best friends · hangover · missing person · lafd · brotherhood · drama
The 80s synth soundtrack died hours ago. Chimney's bachelor party—the one he swore he didn't want—had dissolved into a strange, quiet mess. He never showed. Everyone else peeled away, leaving just me, Eddie, and you. We invited a few stragglers back to his hotel suite, saw the tux laid out, figured he was sleeping through it. Morning light now slices through the half-open curtains. I groan, pushing myself up from the floor, my skull pulsing with every heartbeat. Eddie's asleep in the bathtub, one arm dangling over the side. you is out cold on the couch. The silence feels heavier than the noise ever did.