I'm Sorry (TW)
Buck sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling, staring down at the dimly lit streets of Los Angeles. He never meant for it to go this far - never even imagined it - but here he was with the 118 hating him. Everyone says they forgive him, but their actions contradict their words and it hurts. Especially whatever Buck and Eddie have going on. Eddie still lets him hang out with Christopher, but never alone. Eddie's eye is always carefully watching Buck, not Chris, but Buck. Like he's the kid once again. To make matters worse, the Buckley parents decided to pay their daughter a visit, and even invited Buck out with them. He said yes, of course, but that was a bad decision. And after six years of being clean, he relapsed. His body still held the dangerous substances mixed with alcohol, and his thighs and wrist held new, burning marks. That's how he found himself here, in this reckless position. Buck wasn't going to jump. He was going to get back from the ledge, walk inside, and go to bed, he had an early shift after all.
Groaning, Buck stood up, his legs aching, and limped toward the roof door, the heavy object squeaking obnoxiously loud for Buck's taste. The stairs looked awfully long. Buck wasn't sure he could go down them intoxicated. He did anyway. But, hey, he was desperate for sleep. Even when everything started swaying more, he kept descending down. All the while, Buck's brain was drowning in thoughts and questions and insults, one particular question popping up in between the rest. Why can't I be normal? The unknowable question made Buck want to cry, it brought him back to when he was a kid, the kid who would always avoid being in the same room as his father to stay away from the unbearable hits, the kid who would sneak out to steer away from his parents when they drank. Sure his mom never physically hit him, but her way of abuse was verbal. The kid who would go out at night to do drugs and drink alcohol, eventually turning his desires into an addiction. Until now, Buck couldn't understand what he did, Maddie was never hit by the Buckley parents, but that didn't mean she was safe from Margret's words. As of yesterday, Buck found out he was born for spare parts. Apparently he had a brother, Daniel, who was diagnosed with Leukemia, and even though Buck was a bone marrow match, Daniel still passed. This obviously sent his parents into manic mode.
Did I deserve this?
Buck knew the answer already. Evan didn't deserve it as he did nothing wrong, but Buck definitely deserved it. Buck finally made it down the stairs and to his floor level. Upon approaching his loft, he noticed his door was cracked open and the light was on, and he was sure he closed it, locked it even. He pushed the door slightly - though it was enough to open it all the way - and peeked inside. In his living room stood the 118 team, plus Maddie and Athena. His eyes went wide, suddenly very self conscious of his fresh cuts; his thighs were covered but his wrist were in the open.
"Oh. H-hi. What are you guys doing here?" Buck stuttered, crossing his arms across his stomach. The fabric rubbed painfully against his marks, making a straggled hiss of pain erupt from his throat. Buck caught his sister looking mournfully at his arms. His shock was replaced by a burning fear. Maddie knew. Buck looked around the room, trying to avoid the piercing gazes from everyone in the room. He looked at the bottles of strong alcohol littering the floor, the empty bottle of pills sitting on the counter, the bloody washcloth. Buck was sure they all figured out what he did.
"Sit, Buck." Bobby demanded in a stern voice. Buck's brain faltered. His breathing sped up. He couldn't. He won't go through a talk like this. A talk basically telling him that his years of rehab were no good. The talk where they would tell him he was failing at life, as if he didn't know. Buck, who was now panicking, took a defensive step back.
"No," He spat, forcing every matter of anger into his response. "Why are you here?"
"They know, Evan. I know you know that. Just...let us help you." Maddie joined in softly.
Buck flinched at his biological name. An over dramatic gesture, sure, but the name brought physical pain to the man. Buck lowered his tone. "No. I don't want your help."
"You'll hurt yourself more if we do," Bobby countered. Buck felt like throwing up, his vision going blurry. Buck stood silently as he thought for an appropriate reply.
"Doesn't matter, and it will never matter until the day I die." Buck whispered. Maddie took a step towards him, then another, and another. Each step brought Buck closer to the edge of breaking down. Soon, Maddie was in front of him, a burning anger clear in her eyes. Buck saw a flash of his father standing in front of him, knuckles red from harshly coming in contact with Evan's body. Tears welled up in the younger male's eyes. He took large steps backward and found himself against a wall, another hurtful memory filling his brain. Buck choked out a small, "Please don't hurt me." His plea made Maddie immediately back up, pushing the others back with her as she watched her brother sink down the wall onto the floor, sobs racking his body. Buck felt the effects of the drugs kicking in, he picked the certain ones for the slow, painful sensation. One that he knew all too well. His sobs stopped as he went pliant against the wall, he knew an entire bottle of those pills would ensure in an overdose. He was correct. Buck heard his name being called as his consciousness was fading.
Please forgive me, he thought as everything went dead.