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saveyourblood · 1 day ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 16 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck’s hands trail down to your hands. He takes his in yours. “Do you love him?” “Buck.” “I know you love me,” Buck continues, playing with your fingers. “You know I love you. But I’m asking if you love him.” The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: *Are spoilers, listed at the bottom*

Finding a last-minute flight to Seattle was hard — finding four tickets on said flight was even harder. When you explained the circumstances to the boys, they insisted on joining you. Once Chris heard about it, he wasn’t about to take no for an answer either. He’s never seen snow, and when Eddie mentioned that Seattle probably has snow on the ground right now, his eyes lit up. You couldn’t take that joy away from him.

So, the four of you are on a plane. Chris is asleep in his window seat, his head on Buck’s shoulder. Buck is resting his head on top of Chris’s. His eyes are closed, but you don’t think he’s fully asleep yet since he isn't snoring.

You and Eddie took the aisle seats. He’s in the middle while you’re seated on the end. The flight won’t be long, so you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep even if you wanted to.

You bob your knee up and down anxiously as you gnaw on your index finger’s nail. Eddie sets a hand on your knee, making it still.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks softly.

You move your hand from your mouth as you look over, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”

You consider this. “Eight years? No, nine. It was a few weeks after I turned eighteen.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was moving to LA for paramedic school,” you say. “He hasn’t reached out since before yesterday. Well, technically he didn’t even reach out then; it was a doctor who called me. Whatever.”

Eddie squeezes your knee. “What are you gonna say when you see him?”

You thought about that question for the rest of the flight. You thought about it as you walked through the airport, Buck holding your hand and Eddie keeping his arm around your shoulders. You thought about it for the entire car ride, up until Eddie turned onto South King Street.

As Eddie parks the car, your mind goes quiet — so quiet that you can hear a ringing sound. You wonder where the sound is coming from and if everyone else can hear it, too. You wonder if silence doesn’t actually exist; maybe this is what your head sounds like when it’s empty.

The sound of your door opening replaces the ringing.

Buck leans his head down, resting one hand on the car door and the other on the frame. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

You step into the night air, and the sudden chill makes you breathe a little deeper. It’s been almost a decade since you spent the winter in Seattle, and it’s as cold as you remember. It’s nice to know that some things never change.

As you walk up the stairs to your childhood home, you think maybe nothing has changed since you were last here. The handrails are still rotting, and the third step still creaks when anyone uses it. When you look to your left, you still see the Vietnamese Buddhist temple painted such bright yellow that it glows, even at night. You put the key in the lock, and you still have to jiggle it back and forth before the door opens.

Of course your father hasn’t changed the locks.

You open the door, flip on the light, and are almost overwhelmed by the sameness. You step onto familiar white kitchen tiles that have been stained creme by dirt and time. You drop your bag onto the foldable table in the center — it isn’t the one you grew up sitting at, but it’s close enough. There are still only two chairs surrounding it; you never needed any more.

“It’s… nice,” Buck eventually says. “Very homey,” Eddie agrees.

You snort out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”

The nice thing about South King Street is that it’s a stone-throw away from the Chinatown-International District, which is home to some of the best Chinese restaurants you’ve ever been to. You send the boys to get some takeout, and you tell them it doesn’t matter which one they pick because any restaurant open this late is bound to be good. They come back half an hour later with enough dim sum to feed a small army.

The three of you eat at the table wordlessly. You and Eddie occupy the two chairs while Buck stands, rocking back and forth a little as he eats.

Someone knocks at the door. The boys’ eyes go from the door, then to you. You shrug.

Buck frowns as he sets his plate down, cautiously approaching the door. He opens the sliding peephole, then the door. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, you aren’t… sorry, I thought I saw someone who… Who are you? You don’t live here, do you?”

You’d know that voice anywhere. Your heart starts to dance at the sound. Still, your brain is hesitant to believe it’s really her.

You push away from the table, approaching Buck. Your heart stops dancing and instead marches in painful succession.

She doesn’t look much older. Her hair is longer but still black in color. Her hips jut out a little more, but her frame is still small. Most of her, like all of your surroundings, stayed the same. Her face is still perfectly smooth, and her monolid eyes are as big and full of life as ever.

“Linh?” you breathe out.

“Oh my god, it is you!”

You pull her into one of the tightest hugs of your life.

“I wasn’t sure it was you,” She laughs wetly into your shoulder. “God, you look so different.”

You squeeze her a little tighter. “Yeah, you too.”

The four of you move to the living room, mostly because it has a more appropriate seating arrangement. You and Linh are on the couch while Eddie sits in the armchair. Buck took one of the chairs from the kitchen and placed it next to Eddie’s.

“You know, Buck, when you opened the door, I really thought you might be the owner,” Linh explains with a chuckle. “I thought we might finally be getting new neighbors.”

“So you never moved out?” you ask.

The Lais were your next-door neighbors growing up. Tho and Chi Lai had two children, Nhat and Linh. Nhat is a few years older than you, and Linh is the same age. You attended Leschi Elementary School, then Washington Middle School, and eventually Garfield High School together, often in the same classes. It’s like everywhere you went, Linh followed, and vice versa.

Looking back, it’s kind of incredible the two of you were friends. On the surface, the two of you have nothing in common. You’re an only child, and she isn’t. She has a pair of loving parents, and you have a singular absent one. Her family always ate dinner together, and you were lucky if your dad remembered to cook.

Tho and Chi picked up on your living situation quickly. When you were five, you once braved the cold in two sweatshirts since you no longer had a winter jacket that fit. They talked to Linh about it in Vietnamese, so you had no idea what they were asking; all you knew was that you started spending a lot more time at the Lai house after that.

The Lais weren’t rich by any means: Tho worked whatever blue-collar job he could find, and Chi was a teacher at the elementary school. They also took care of Tho’s father, who was a refugee from the Vietnam War. He lived with them in Seattle from 1975 until he died in the early 2010s when you and Linh were in high school. Still, they made you feel welcomed and loved. Eventually, they became your family.

“No, I never moved out,” Linh confirms. “I got my bachelor’s in Early Childhood Education from the UW. I work at Leschi, actually.”

You smile. “You became a teacher. Just like your mom.”

Linh smiles back as she nods.

“How is she doing, by the way? How are both your parents?”

Linh’s smile falters. “My, uh… my dad died two years ago. He had a stroke.”

“Oh, Linh,” you say sadly, taking her hand, “I’m so sorry.”

You almost say something about wishing she had called. You stop yourself when you remember that you could have called, too.

“You said you thought you were getting new neighbors,” Buck interjects softly.

“Yeah,” Linh nods, wiping her eyes. “I haven’t seen Roy in a few months; I thought he was finally selling the house.”

You swallow, pursing your lips together. Linh squeezes your hand, which makes you look at her.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Linh asks. “You’re here for him.”

You sigh, pinching the skin between your eyebrows. “He’s been inpatient at Stillwater for the past seven weeks. Last night, they transferred him to the ICU. Liver Failure. I’m visiting tomorrow.”

Linh moves her hand to your back. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh a little. “He’s encephalopathic, but he keeps saying my name, apparently. He asks anyone who enters the room where his daughter is. I’m not even sure how, but they finally got my phone number. He doesn’t have advanced directives, and Washington is a next of kin state, so… here I am.”

“How long?”

Linh doesn’t have to be specific: you know exactly what she’s asking.

“I haven’t talked to the doctors yet, but… months, if that.”

The room goes quiet. You start to hear that ringing sound again. It stops when Linh slaps her hands on her thighs.

“Well, you know what this means,” She says.

You watch Linh walk through the kitchen and out the front door. Buck and Eddie look to you, dumbfounded.

“Will she be back?” Eddie asks, pointing towards the door.

You chuckle. “Oh, she’ll be back.”

Linh returns with four bottles of Sake. They’re the 2 gō size, meaning each one is two servings. She lines up the bottles on the kitchen table.

“I had just enough for everyone to get their own bottle,” Linh says, cracking open the first bottle. “We’re keeping the tradition alive.”

Buck raises his eyebrows. “Tradition?”

You smile, standing up and approaching the island. “When a major life event is about to happen, Linh and I get drunk on Sake. It started when we were 16, and her grandfather took a turn for the worse; we guilted her brother into buying us Sake at the Chinese supermarket. Because we were kids and alcohol naive, we didn’t realize we each drank a two-serving bottle until we were already drunk.”

“We did it again when you were rejected by Tacoma’s paramedic academy,” Linh points out, “and when I got into UW.”

“The last time we did it was before I left for LA,” you tell the boys. You look back at your friend. “I can’t get drunk off Sake tonight.”

“Oh, of course you can,” Linh counters. “Who cares if you show up to the hospital hungover? I mean, it would be a little ironic, considering your father’s condition and all, but…”

“No, I mean I can’t drink anything right now,” you continue.

Linh’s eyes widen. “You’re not…”

“I am.”

“Shut up!”

You laugh.

“Well… Fuck!” She laughs, scooting two bottles towards Eddie and Buck. “I guess we’ll have to pick up the slack tonight, boys.”

It’s weird being the only sober person in this situation.

Everyone is at least a drink and a half in, and it’s definitely showing. The boys can handle their alcohol, so the signs of their intoxication are subtle. Buck always gets super chatty when he’s drunk; he’ll talk about whatever topic springs to his mind. Meanwhile, Eddie gets handsy, so some part of him is touching Buck at all times,.

Buck is sitting on the floor in front of Eddie, who’s still in the chair. He and Linh are in the middle of a lively discussion about Buddhism. Meanwhile, Eddie’s hands aimlessly trace Buck's shoulders up and down.

“So you two are a thing, right?” Linh asks out of nowhere.

That’s how you know Linh is drunk: she has no filter.

Eddie’s hands stop moving, but they don’t retreat. Meanwhile, Buck stares at you.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie eventually answers after clearing his throat. “We’re together.”

The three of you came up with a deal awhile back — in social settings, if someone asked if any two of you were a couple, the answer would always be ‘yes.’ It didn’t matter if the configuration was you and Buck or you and Eddie or Eddie and Buck. Overall, it’s a good plan. You just never anticipated using it in a setting like this.

“Sweet,” Linh says with a nod. She cocks her head towards you. “Then who’s your baby daddy?”

You choke on your glass of water.

“What?! It’s a fair question!”

Your cough turns into a laugh as you set down your glass of water. “Yeah, it’s fair.”

You look at Buck, then Eddie, then at Linh. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you’re even friends anymore, not really: she’s a part of your past that’s come to life. The second you leave, she’ll go back to being nothing more than a picture in a frame. It’s sad, but it’s just the way it is. She’s one of the two things keeping you connected to Seattle. The other thing is dying in a hospital bed. You’ve enjoyed seeing her again, but you’ve gone almost a decade without her. When she becomes your only tie to this city, it won’t be enough to pull you back.

So, you should probably just tell her the truth.

“Actually, um, I don’t know,” you say. “It’s one of two people.”

She raises her eyebrows. “How’d you narrow it down?”

You jerk your chin towards the other two people in the room. “It’s one of them.”

Linh looks at them, then at you, her mouth agape. “No shit! LA must’ve rubbed off on you.” She takes another sip of Sake, her face wincing before softening. “Are you happy?”

An involuntary smile crosses your face. “For probably the first time in my life.”

Linh went home around midnight, and the boys passed out somewhere around 2:30 in the morning. The three of you are crammed onto the pull-out sofa; you refused to sleep in your father’s bed, as did both Eddie and Buck. You tried to get some sleep, but between the uncomfortable mattress and your racing thoughts, it was impossible.

You left before everyone woke up. Buck and Eddie were going to come with you, but you thought it would be easier to do this on your own. Well, it won’t be easier , but you thought it would be for the best.

You’re standing outside of the room. The sliding glass door is slightly open, so you can hear some random beeping from inside. You can see your father’s feet at the edge of the bed, covered by a sheet.

You take a deep breath and step inside.

The first thing you notice is the smell. It’s sour and acidic and completely overwhelming. You’re used to offensive smells as a paramedic, but between the change of setting and your pregnancy hormones, it takes everything in you not to gag. Your eyes meet the offender — a fecal containment device hanging on the end of the bed. A literal bag of shit.

How fitting.

Your eyes trail up. He’s tucked under the sheet up until his abdomen, which is so rounded that it almost looks fake. His arms are out, propped up under pillows. You notice how yellow they are; his skin looks like a fucking highlighter.

You finally look at his face. He looks… old. Older than he’s supposed to. His face is the same hue of jaundice as his arms and probably the rest of his body. There’s a massive tube taped into one of his nostrils while a massive nasal cannula sits in both. His eyes are closed, but his chest heaves like he’s struggling to breathe.

“Hey dad,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t respond. He probably doesn’t even realize you’re in the room. Still, you pull up a chair.

“I became a paramedic,” you continue. “I’ve been one for… shit, 5 years now? Oh, and I’m in nursing school. I can take the boards in a year. I’m still not sure what I want to do with it. I always wanted to be a flight nurse, but… my friend was in the ICU last year, and I thought maybe I could do it. Now that I’m back in one, though… I don’t know.”

Your father still doesn’t say anything. He keeps breathing heavily, his head occasionally shaking from side to side. You notice that his hands occasionally flap up and down — asterixis, or ‘liver flap.’ You remember hearing about it in a lecture recently. It’s a sign of liver failure. And, based on his neurological status, you’re guessing it’s pretty advanced.

“You ruined me,” you whisper. “For a long time, you ruined me. I felt like I didn’t know how to be a person. I’m one now, though. I became a person. I became something . I’m someone’s girlfriend, and I’m… going to be someone’s mother. And being a parent scares the shit out of me because I never had a good one. All I know is how to be a daughter. A daughter without parents. I don’t know if I was always a good daughter, but… I’m gonna be one now.”

You hear a knock on the door. A woman in scrubs smiles. “Hi, I’m Amanda, his nurse for the day. I’m guessing you're the daughter?”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a teardrop land on your hand. You reach up, wiping the tracks away. “Yeah, I am.”

Amanda turns around, gesturing for someone. A group of three doctors enters the room. Amanda stands by the glass door.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Baltek,” the oldest of the three extends his hand. I’m the Intensive Care Physician covering your father’s care. These are my residents, Dr. Khan and Dr. Dawson.”

You nod, shaking Dr. Baltek’s hand. You offer a small wave to his residents.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, your father’s condition is worsening,” Dr. Baltek explains. “His medical history makes him ineligible for a liver transplant, and despite the high doses of lactulose he’s receiving daily, his ammonia levels are climbing. Our next option is Liver Dialysis, which involves-”

“We’re not doing that,” you interrupt.

Dr. Baltek blinks. “Ma’am, you understand that if we don’t proceed with this-”

“He’ll die,” you say you bluntly. “Yeah, I know. My father’s been dying ever since my mom did. He just found a slower, more painful way to do it, I guess.”

“...So you are no longer interested in restorative care?”

You can’t help but snort. “There’s no recovering from this. He’s gonna die, and he might as well do it as comfortably as he can. So… no chest compressions, no intubation, no tube feeds… I don’t want any of it, because he wouldn’t want any of it.”

You sign the DNR/DNI paperwork. In a way, it feels like you’re signing your father’s death warrant. That should probably unsettle you more than it does.

The social worker gives you a sad look before leaving the room. You look back at your father, who has yet to acknowledge your presence. Mentally, he’s so far gone he probably doesn’t even know who he is.

You take his hand. Until now, you can’t remember the last time you touched him. You didn’t hug him goodbye when you left for LA; you just packed your bags and disappeared.

“Goodbye, dad.”

You get back to the house a little after 10 AM. Eddie and Buck are in the kitchen. Eddie’s leaning against the counter, and Buck, pacing, stalls the second he lays eyes on you.

You smile softly as your eyes water. “Let’s go home.”

~~~

Trigger warnings: implied alcoholism, semi-graphic description of liver failure, talks of death/withdrawing care

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