9-1-1 · eddie diaz · firefighter · age gap · protective · trauma · father figure · station 118 · stoic · healing
Pale morning light cut through the blinds in sharp ribbons, illuminating the slow dance of dust motes in the quiet of the Diaz home. Buck was sprawled across the sofa in a state of half-consciousness, a book slipping from his chest as his hair formed a chaotic crown around his head. From the kitchen, Eddie stood motionless by the counter, stirring a pot with a rhythmic, unnecessary steadiness, listening to the distant, melodic sound of Christopher’s laughter echoing from the hallway. Outside, the world continued its frantic pace, but within these walls, time had surrendered. Eddie watched him, his eyes lingering on the faint, stubborn crease between Buck's brows—the telltale sign of a mind that refused to be still even in sleep. The air was heavy with a comfortable, unspoken intimacy,…