Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids
“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”
Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”
“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.
Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”
Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”
Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”
Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”
“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.
Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”
“Maybe he should stay away from those.”
“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.
Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”
“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.
“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”
“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”
Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”
Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”
“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.
“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”
They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”
Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”
Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”
Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”
“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”
Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”
“Yes. I would.”
Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”
“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”
“Uh huh.”
He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.
“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.
Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.
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hello!! big fan here! i think you’re super talented and cool 🫶🏼 can i perhaps request a friends to lovers thing for vernon? do you think he’d be the first one to break and confess or would it be you? if it’s the latter, how does he react? any thoughts on this would be fine really, even if you don’t want to make it into a full fledged story. just love talking about and thinking about vernon.
darling anon i think you broke my brain because i've never written so much in a single day (also thank you so much!!! <3). i love vernon and i've kind of been in a vernon spiral myself recently. i hope you like this :)
chroma — chwe hansol | 2,520 words | fluff
chroma (noun) — the purity of a colour, or its freedom from white or grey. reader and vernon are best friends who SCREAM become lovers. briefly ft dokyeom.
gender neutral reader. warnings: none.
at first glance, you and vernon are opposites.
not exactly grumpy and sunshine opposites, but if you're both the same colour, you're a shade or two brighter than him. which means that you're similar with different energy levels, and honestly? you love your dynamic.
your friends notice that outside of the group, you're the one he's the closest to — so it only makes sense that he's also the one you're the closest to.
he's always near you whenever you're hanging out with your friends — whether you're sitting right next to each other or across the room, he meets your eyes from time to time, if only to check in on you, or to allude to an inside joke when someone speaks.
(you have way too many inside jokes; an unhealthy amount, even.)
he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely. or you crash at each other's places for the night if you're too tired.
you always look forward to whenever he gets random bursts of energy and proceeds to tell you about stuff he finds interesting. but you also use him as a pillow when he becomes extremely quiet, and honestly? it's pretty easy to co-exist with vernon regardless of the silence or the lack of it, because you always match his energy.
he sends you pictures of whatever he thinks you'll like, whether it's a meme or a sunset, but sometimes he sends you stuff he likes — like a cool monument he saw in new york or his cat or a picture of two snails on the side of the road with the caption "us?"
seriously, opening his texts is like a wild card (in a good way).
he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely.
you're slightly more affectionate than him, which is something he doesn't mind.
he's not the first to initiate hugs, but you can trust that he's always going to find your hand for a high five or a fist bump or a quick side hug.
if you're sitting together on the couch listening to music or watching something on the television, he lets you loop your arm through his like it's something you do every day (which it most definitely is).
vernon wasn't very physical in the beginning of your friendship, but now you're used to a light brush of his hand against yours, your shoulders bumping for a second or two, a poke to your cheek — just your things.
now the thing is this: you have a crush on vernon. a huge crush that doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.
"i knew it!" dokyeom says shrilly, and you wince. you love him, but you're not sure if he's capable of keeping your secret.
"was it that obvious?"
"of course it was! i've seen the way you look at him. like he's the funniest guy in the room, even if he's not. or like he's the hottest guy in the room. which he—"
"—is," you finish, and bite your tongue. dokyeom doesn't need to know exactly how in deep you are.
dokyeom shakes his head. "i can't believe he doesn't know."
"kyeom, if you tell him, i swear—"
"i won't! i kind of want to see how long it takes for him to realize."
"i don't think he will," you say, looking over to where vernon is sitting on the couch and arguing with seungkwan and seungcheol about the best movie from 2008.
"how do you know that?"
you shrug. "i've tried dropping subtle hints. he's just...oblivious."
dokyeom follows your gaze and sighs. "he really is. but if you ask me," he says, turning to raise an eyebrow. "this really could go somewhere."
every year, you spend valentine's day together.
it started as a joke the first time — vernon's date somehow cancelled on him at the last moment, and he showed up to your place with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.
you thought your heart was going to fall out of your body, but he sheepishly explained he didn't know where else to go, or who else to give them to.
it turned into a rant about how he didn't believe in or care about the holiday anymore.
but now it's your tradition to enjoy each other's company rolling your eyes and booing at cheesy movies.
(you wish they'd come to life, specifically with vernon, but he doesn't have to know.)
he isn't the best at comforting you with words. you learned that a long time ago and know it well even now. yet he's the first person you turn to when something's wrong.
you're wrapped in a blanket on vernon's sofa, a hot mug of cocoa in front of you next to a bowl of snacks, but your mind isn't on any of them. why, you think. why, why, why me. you feel terrible for the space you're occupying, even though you've curled up into a ball.
"hey," vernon says from above you, and the next thing you know, you're pulled into him. "i don't know what to say to make it better, and...i don't know what else i can do, but tell me, okay?"
you nod.
"i'm sorry."
you stop crying at that, trying to blink away your tears but failing. "why?"
"he was a dick, and you never deserved someone so shitty."
you try to inhale, but it's shaky. "i'm just...so tired," you say, resting your head on his shoulder. "i don't know why i keep attracting idiots like him. and i hate that you always have to see me like this."
"like this?"
"in pieces. crying. whatever."
"you're not in pieces," vernon says, running his hand over your back. "you're sad. it happens. and i don't mind being here, okay? i'm always here. sorry."
you snort. "you've apologized more to me than he's ever done at this point."
"now you know who to keep around longer," vernon smiles.
you wonder if vernon's aware of the things he does. he talks to you like there's no one else he'd rather be with at the moment. he bends down to meet your eyes when you're talking about something, and you're amazed he hasn't noticed you short-circuiting in the middle of your sentences more than a few times now. he finds the most random things to give you every now and then.
"huh?"
"pebble. reminded me of pou."
"pou? vernon, that was so long ago!"
"do you want me to skip this rock?"
"no, wait—"
fights with him aren't really fights, because one of you always caves in and has to make up.
"your neck's going to hurt," you hear vernon say softly, probably trying not to wake you up. but you weren't really asleep in the first place.
"why do you care?" you grumble, sitting up straight and wincing when your neck does, in fact, hurt.
"i don't hate you just because we had a fight," he says, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest. "sore necks suck."
you chew on your cheek for a while, not wanting to say the words you know are inevitable. "fighting with you sucks, too."
he says nothing; just hugs you tighter.
you're surprised at how well you've adapted to vernon going out on dates.
it wasn't easy, you'll admit. at first it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest while also being crushed, but now it's okay (maybe because he hasn't been dating as much recently — you can't remember the last one he even went on).
you're nothing if not a supportive best friend, so you're okay with the few times his dates go well enough to tell you about.
you teasingly tell him not to give you too many details, but you wonder if he knows why you really ask that of him.
both of you act like a married couple, according to your friends. it made you blush at first, but there's no point reacting to it anymore because it's just not true. vernon doesn't like you the way you like him, and the way you're affectionate with each other is...hard to explain. just friends, you say, even though you wish you were more.
"you're dishgushting," dokyeom says, mouth stuffed full of pizza while he pours himself some coke.
you give him a look. "you or me?"
dokyeom nods, chewing aggressively before swallowing his bite. "you. and vernon. can't stop giving each other those eyes all the time. makes me sick."
"...eyes?"
"like you need a room or something. like there's no one else in here with you guys."
"we don't do that, kyeom."
he snorts inelegantly. "ask anyone. you're lucky jeonghan hasn't snitched on you yet."
and maybe, just maybe, vernon treats you somewhat differently than he treats his friends.
you always get the first bite of his food, always listen to new vinyls he gets on the weekends, sprawled out on the floor and letting the music seep into your skin, always get to steal his hoodies whenever you're cold — you can't think of any other friend of his who gets the same treatment.
but that's just best friend privilege.
at least that's what you tell yourself.
after vernon comes back from his latest tour, he becomes more touchy with you — resting a hand on your thigh, tracing the shell of your ear, linking pinkies with you.
maybe it's just his way of reconnecting with you after being away for so long.
but doesn't he realize what he's doing to your heart?
probably not, you think, when he wraps his arms around your waist one morning when you're in front of his vinyl collection, trying to pick something you think you'll like.
"sol?" you ask, patting his hands before resuming browsing through his shelf.
"hey."
"what's up?"
"tired."
"shouldn't you be in bed, then?"
"you weren't there."
you pause, the magdalene vinyl in your hand threatening to fall before you place it back. "i'm never there."
"wanna change that?"
"what?"
"what."
you think it's some silly pick-up line he's trying to test on you, so you gently push him back to his bedroom, threatening to leave his home if he doesn't sleep for a few more hours.
but it doesn't end there.
those pick-up lines pop up in the most unexpected places, with the most unexpected company. you shake your head and laugh them off, but you wonder why he's behaving like this.
there's one possible explanation for it, but you're not going to let yourself walk down that path. not unless he does it first.
vernon's quiet on the walk back to your car from the supermarket, half your groceries with you and the other half with him. he doesn't say anything when you point out his shoelace is untied, or his hair is sticking up a bit weirdly for his liking, or even the fact that there's a cat sitting right next to your car before it skitters away a few seconds later.
you're not worried. vernon does have those moments where he zones out so hard no one can get him back for a while, and this seems to be one of them.
"i love you," he finally says.
your hand fumbles with the grip of your bag. not cool, not when there's a couple of glass jars in there. there's going to be nothing cute to put the cookies in if you break them now.
"i love you too?" you offer, because it's not uncommon for you to say it to each other. it's just that vernon's never brought it up unprompted before.
"no. not how you think."
not how you think? how...
oh.
you can only stare at vernon, mind running a million miles an hour while he refuses to look at you, suddenly finding interest in that untied shoelace.
"love me love me?"
he nods, almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for it. it gives you a sudden boost of courage, of happiness, of everything good. you weren't wrong, after all. you put the rest of the groceries in the trunk and turn to face him.
you've seen this sight hundreds of times before — vernon with his messy hair, in this very hoodie with jam stains on the left sleeve, and those brown eyes that light up from the inside when the sun hits them just the right way and make him look like the most handsome man in the world — but it's like you've been seeing the world, even vernon, in monochrome till he said those words.
chroma.
"oi," you say, grabbing his face in your hands. "sol."
he just blinks.
"are you sure? absolutely sure?"
"yeah," he says, voice a bit rougher than usual, and you see yourself in his eyes for a moment. "i am. but i'm sor—"
you shut him up with a quick peck to his lips, uncaring of who might be seeing you right now. you know you're going to be embarrassed about it, squeal about it to dokyeom, bury your face in your pillow and question if any of it was real, but right now, it doesn't matter.
you've shocked vernon, for once. it feels good. he's staring at you with his mouth open, hands clutching your wrists like there's no tomorrow.
"you're not the only one," you explain, all bravado fizzling out when his full focus lands only on you.
"oh? yeah?" he asks, pulling you closer.
"mm."
he rubs his thumb across one of your wrists. "do you have eggs?"
"...what?" back to regularly scheduled programming, then. trust vernon not to make it weird.
"eggs. or ice cream. anything that needs the fridge. because i want to take you out on a date right now."
some things change: vernon becomes your boyfriend. you move in together a few months later. it's not the first time you've met his mother, but you're still nervous.
but the best thing of all is that he's yours now.
he even tells you how he realized he loved you back.
"i just...remembered you arguing with me about whether penne or fusilli was better, and my only thought was, i want this with you. for however long i could have it. i think i just loved you for so long, but...i didn't realize it was that love. i finally understood why kyeom-hyung kept telling me to get my shit together."
"sol—"
"no one knows me like you do and i don't want anyone else to. yeah."
"sol, babe, i was just asking if you want me to take out the trash."
"you...oh," he says, grinning in that shy way he does. "thought you asked me if i wanted you. but hey, if i'm trash for you, you're legally obligated to take me out, right?"
i've never put pictures before but he's SO boyfriend material, look at him
taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi
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