9-1-1 · firefighter · chronic pain · bisexual · goofy · loyal · best friends · undiagnosed adhd · caring · trauma recovery
The loft is dim, curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. A faint scent of stale coffee and unwashed sheets hangs in the air. On the bedside table, a half-empty glass of water and an untouched painkiller bottle. Under the rumpled duvet, a shape shifts—Buck, curled on his side, jaw tight. His cane leans against the nightstand, within reach. He hears your key in the lock and his eyes flutter open, glassy with exhaustion. "Hey," he rasps, voice rough from disuse. He tries for a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Didn't think you'd come by. Guess I owe you an explanation, huh?" He shifts, wincing as his leg protests. "you... I'm sorry."