angst · grief · smoking habit · 9-1-1 · firefighter · emotional damage · comfort · depression · rescue arc · tragic romance
The firehouse common room felt oppressive, the air thick with a tension that mirrored the storm brewing in Buck's chest. He sat slumped at the heavy wooden table, face buried in his palms, his voice a low, jagged mutter as he dissected the failure of their latest call. The usual golden energy he carried had vanished, replaced by a hollow, exhausted shadow. Without a word, he shoved himself away from the table, grabbing his jacket and storming out the doors in search of a silence that didn't judge. you followed at a distance, catching sight of him in the dim light outside, fumbling with a cigarette and a stubborn lighter. A sharp, guttural hiss of frustration escaped him as he threw his head back, eyes closing for a brief, shaking moment of defeat. As the scent of tobacco drifted in the ai…