Chapter Text
As a kid, Buck dreamed of being a hero. Maybe a soldier or a first responder; a firefighter would have been a fun job. And he was on the track of it all. He trained at the gym and did a shit ton of research. For what? He couldn’t even tell you, he was just a stupid teenager dreaming big.
Clearly, as Buck sits in the waiting room of his physiotherapist, he never reached that dream. It was an idiotic accident, just one of the many reckless things he did in an attempt to get attention from his mom and dad.
He was on his motorcycle, 16, driving carelessly when he crashed. He had crushed his leg, and with that, his life (at the time).
So here he sits, numerous years and surgeries later. He’s learned to live with the constant pain and the limitations it brings. He never got to be a hero — or at least in the sense that he had once dreamt of.
He chose a path that he still felt helped the world; a teacher. Elementary to be exact. It’s quite ironic considering how much he hated school as a kid. He was good at it but he stopped trying after his parents gave nothing more than a look when he handed them his grade A tests. Those A’s turned into what most parents would scold their children for. Not Buck’s though. Never his.
To be honest, he has no idea in hell how he managed to get accepted into university. A sob story does wonders, he supposes. This year marks his fourth year of being a teacher. After the accident he wasn’t even sure he’d live another four years. It was a horribly dark time, both on his mental health and physical health. After one of his surgeries, he discovered a blood clot. It took a toll on him and he shut everyone out. Not that he had much of anyone to begin with. His parents there, but not really there whilst his sister was god knows where with her husband.
“Evan Buckley?” the secretary calls, and he sits up, following her into one of the backrooms. “Dr. Graham will be here shortly,” she smiles before leaving him to his own devices. He sits down on the bench. He’s been here enough through the years to know the routine. It’s about 5 minutes before Dr. Graham enters the room.
“Hey Buck,” she greets, sitting in her chair across from him. “Any problems recently? Or just here for the usual?”
“Just the usual,” he smiles. Bi-monthly appointments are another thing he’s had to adjust to. He quite likes his doctor, so that’s a plus.
“OK, that’s good! Lie down then, you know the drill,” she says, rolling her chair to where his legs are now laid. “Anything new? New school year start yet?”
“Next week actually. Though the school is hosting an open house for families to meet teachers tomorrow. Can’t tell if I’m dreading it or excited,” Buck sighs. He feels Dr. Graham working on his leg, though he doesn’t pay attention to what she’s doing. He hasn't in years.
She hums, “What grade do you teach again?”
“Second,” he groans. “Both a blessing and a curse.”
“Tell me about it,” the doctor huffs. “My sons are ten and twelve, so just getting past that age. Though we’re in our prime moody pre-teen era. Be glad you don’t teach middle school” Thank fuck he does not.
“Oh yeah, I could never. High school, maybe. But I’d rather die than teach that age,” Buck exaggerates.
The appointment goes well — or about as well as it can. He always has a bit of a sore leg afterwards. His doctor says it's a good type of pain and Buck can't be bothered to look deeper into it.
When he first got into the accident he was told there was a good chance he’d never walk again. He proved the doctors wrong. Since then, they’ve said there’s a more than likely chance he’d never gain full mobility. In this case, they are right. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying; he’s sure as hell not about to give up.
As of this moment, he finds himself spending the rest of the day setting up his classroom. He likes to refresh it every year, he finds it to be a good way to get into the new head space. It’s a helpful way to not get caught up in the past. Plus, he enjoys decorating. Buck is absolutely horrendous at it. Still, it looks better than his apartment — it's nearing bachelor pad level, though it might actually be one going by technicality.
He has a pumpkin scented candle lit, something that he sadly won’t be able to have when kids are in his class, and has genuinely reached a state of comfort. He’s hanging a few motivation posters up, cringe, he knows. Buck may have also taken a ten minute break to play with the blue sticky tack like a little kid, but that’s besides the point. He leaves a wall free for the kids’ work eventually; he could not be more excited to see the wall fill up over time.
He’s been at this for a few hours now, he’s unsure of the time but it is most definitely late afternoon. He’s in such a state with music playing in his air pods. It’s some random playlist he found on spotify with vastly different genres throughout. He’ll go from singing an upbeat song to nearly crying, but he likes it anyway. So much so that he completely misses the person standing in his doorway.
“Earth to Evan Buckley,” Karen claps in front of his face. She’s another teacher in the school, grade four specifically. In Buck’s opinion, she should be a science teacher — scratch that, a fucking scientist rather than teaching generalized subjects to little kids. She had always talked about wanting to becoming an astronaut and Buck isn’t entirely sure why she never pursued it.
“Shit, sorry!” He jumps, a bit scared from her sudden appearance, taking out his air pods. He attempts to sit on one of the desks behind him but nearly falls off so he sticks to standing. Karen laughs at him.
“Watch the words, we got kids coming in next week.”
“Next week, not today,” he argues, smiling.
“Haha,” she monotones, “anyway, I just wanted to check out the classroom. Changed up mine a bit too, it’s way better than yours,” she challenges, her bright laugh warming up the room.
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“I bet you ten whole dollars mine is better,” Buck proposes, raising an eyebrow.
Karen chuckles, a slight smirk on her face. “That implies you have ten dollars,” both of them know it’s a joke, but to be frank, there’s a high chance Buck’s wallet is empty. “Who’d judge anyway?”
“Good point,” Buck concedes. There is absolutely no chance he would have won either, something that would have been embarrassing considering he started the ‘bet’. “Let’s see your room then.”
Karen’s class is on the other side of the school. It’s not necessarily a big school, but it’s not horribly small either.
The two enter her room, and Buck loves it. It’s the type of classroom he would have killed to be in as a child. It’s not cozy in a Pinterest way, but there's parts of it that just seem comfortable. It’s such a fun room. There’s aspects of Karen’s personality scattered throughout the room — science-y posters and planet decals scattered throughout. Most of it is the same as the prior year, but it’s been rearranged.
“Yeah, you win,” Buck sighs, collapsing into Karen’s chair. “Permission to decorate Billy?” He asks, pointing to the old skeleton model in the far corner of the room.
“You ask that every year and I swear every year I get closer to telling you no.”
“Still not a no!” Buck grins and Karen huffs out a laugh.
“You’re worse than the kids.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment,” Karen sighs, and they sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before she speaks again. “You excited about open house tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
“What if you meet any hot parents?” Karen states, her voice so casual for such an absurd comment.
“Karen Wilson don’t you dare.”
She smirks in response. “I should probably go, honestly. Hen’s working and I should give the sitter a break.”
Hen is Karen’s wife — she’s a firefighter. When Buck had first found this out, he was a bit jealous, not that he’d admit that to anyone. It’s not his fault, but it still reminds him of something he never got to do. But on nights when the Wilson family invites him over for dinner, he absolutely loves hearing the different stories.
"I should probably get going too. Haven't eaten yet today," he sighs. "Help me up?" Buck asks, reaching out his arm.
"You haven't eaten yet?" Karen pauses, raising her eyebrow.
"I know, I know. I just had an early appointment and didn't have time." Karen just sighs in response, grabbing Buck's hand to lift him up.
"Sore leg today?"
"Just the usual after PT," he sighs, walking with Karen to the door of the class, favouring his left leg. "See you tomorrow?"
"See you tomorrow. Make sure to eat Buckley, or else," Karen wags her finger at him, giving him a pointed look.
Buck hums, heading back to his classroom. The buildings near empty now, the majority of the staff who had been here setting up for the new year now gone, home with their families. The clean floor squeaks against Buck's shoes, the loud unsettling noise echoing through the empty halls.
He enters his room, quickly wrapping up what he was doing prior to being interrupted. He has a few more things to set up, like adding more books to the bookshelf at the back or setting up the whiteboard, but the room doesn't look unfinished. He deems it acceptable to show off to the families that come tomorrow, so he decides it's finally a good time to leave. He grabs his air pods sitting on a desk along with other misc items he brought. He leaves the classroom, turning off the lights and locking the door, then exiting the school.
The parking lot is empty aside from three lonely cars, one being his jeep. He hops into the car, the cold air in it making it seem emptier than it already is. He drives home in silence, cursing every so often at LA traffic during rush hour. Though, there is no designated hour in LA, it's just constant never ending traffic with idiotic drivers. Not that Buck's amazing at driving himself, but he's better than half the people on the roads.
After what seems like an eternity, Buck makes it home. He lives in a decent apartment — first floor because he can't walk up stairs easily, obviously. His apartment’s a bit empty; it'd probably be messy if he had enough stuff to create a mess. The only hint of a mess is the small pile of clean laundry he has yet to put away, but that's about it.
Buck's exhausted and would probably collapse in bed and sleep despite it being — he checks his phone, six. But his stomach is empty, slight nausea from the hunger present. There's not much in his fridge, just some leftover slices of pizza from the other night. He warms it up in the microwave, watching the cheese on the crust bubble and sizzle as it rotates.
His apartment is silent, the only noise is Buck's occasional chewing. He would kill for a dog. Maybe it'd bark as he comes home, whine for food or cuddles. Just anything to fill the silence. Getting a dog has always been a dream as a kid, but his parents would have never allowed it. Buck would tell himself the second he'd move out he'd get a dog and never look back. That never happened, he couldn't take care of a dog. His health wasn't good and he barely had enough money to take care of himself. But even now, years later and more stable, he doesn’t have one. His landlord doesn't allow any pets aside from fish.
The rest of an evening is a blur. Buck moves like a zombie as he gets ready to settle down for the night. He doesn't bother showering, he'll have one in the morning, so he skips to brushing his teeth. When he's finally in bed, so exhausted he can barely remember how he got there, he just sighs. Buck opens Instagram, scrolling for a bit as he feels weight begin to grow on his eyelids.
There's a rare new post from Bobby, someone he met through a support group for people struggling with chronic pain a few years back. He's gotten close with the man, relating to him deeply. Buck would never admit it out loud, but he sees Bobby as a father figure. It's stupid, he knows, but he can't help but think that. Bobby's done so much more for Buck than his actual father has even considered doing. He’s also a firefighter, something Buck is quite jealous of. Coincidentally, he's actually the fire captain for Karen's wife.
The photo Bobby posted is a candid of him and his new girlfriend. About a week ago, when Bobby had come over and cooked for Buck, he had mentioned her briefly. Athena Grant, a cop. Buck smiles to himself as he likes the photo. The two look happy — they look home.
Buck mindlessly scrolls through Instagram for a few more minutes, liking posts from old friends he hasn't seen in nearly a decade. As if on cue, Buck gets a message from Karen just as he's about to set his phone down for the night.
Buck replies to the last message with a heart, chuckling to himself as he sets his phone down. He falls asleep fairly quickly compared to most nights. More often than not, it takes him hours to drift off. Sometimes it's because of pain, racing thoughts, or just nothing at all. Tonight is different though and Buck is thankful.
Buck wakes up startled, his alarm blasting an incredibly obnoxious tune that makes his ears ring. It's 6, unless he unconsciously pressed snooze, and he's trying to get in the habit of waking up early before school starts. One thing is for sure though, he'll never get used to waking up at 6 fucking am. He usually tries to be at school by 7:30 so he has an hour before the kids rush in. Driving is about a half hour, it would be a fifteen minute drive, he's lucky to live closer to the school, but alas, fucking LA. That leaves him an hour to get ready.
He practically rolls out of bed, his groan raspy from under use. Now in his bathroom, he starts the shower.
He's in there for way too long; Buck was dreading having to get out from the warmth of the water, hence walking out with wrinkles fingertips.
He wishes he could say the rest of the day went by in a blur, but in reality he paced his house for god knows how long. He always gets quite angsty near the end of summer, having nothing to do. It becomes especially apparent now, knowing it’s the homestretch. Buck lives on social interactions, so summer break is not his strong suit.
The open house starts at 3 so he has more than enough time, both a blessing and a curse. He'll probably want to leave a bit after 1, then stay until 5 — maybe later. So that fills up the later half of the day. God, Buck really needs a hobby. And a dog. He really wants a dog.
Numerous gruesome hours later, Buck is finally in the car. He left a bit earlier than he had originally planned, but with good reason. Billy, the skeleton, was looking awfully naked and Buck wants to dress him up before Karen and others arrive. He's thinking of going with a cowboy theme this year, the idea sparking after stumbling across an old cowboy costume from a few Halloweens back. Billy was a born rancher, how could Buck not?
Some road rage later, Buck finds himself parking — awfully crookedly, but he can't be bothered to straighten it.
He smirks to himself as he grabs the costume from the back, arms slightly full. Buck stumbles his way into the school, pausing at Karen’s door.
“Oh shit,” he mumbles, face dropping. Her door is locked. Buck curses at himself because obviously it’s locked. He doesn’t have the key to Karen’s room, something that’ll change after today.
He takes the walk of shame to his own door, fumbling with the keys with his full arms.
Just a minute later, Karen walks into his classroom with Denny in tow, a grin on her face.
“Oh you weren’t kidding about that costume. So sad I didn’t know you when you wore that, it would have been priceless,” she laughs, lifting up the cowboy hat, inspecting it. “This is comical.”
“Ok stop shit talking me and open your door before families get here,” Buck chuckles, standing up from where he was sitting.
“Watch the language in front of my kid,” Karen says with a joking undertone, raising her eyebrows. Denny giggles and Buck sighs.
After Karen’s room is unlocked, Buck practically runs over to where Billy is — regretting it as he feels a pain shoot through his leg. He’s ecstatic as he dresses the skeleton up, grinning like a devil. After a moment, Billy is no longer just a skeleton, but instead, a cowboy skeleton and he can’t help but grin like a devil at his masterpiece.
“Should you be in my class this year? You’re about as mature as a fourth grader,” Karen sighs from across the room.
“That’s such a horrible accusation,” Buck huffs, pausing for a dramatic effect before continuing, “I’m less mature.” Karen scoffs in amusement.
For the next little bit, unsure how long, the two just talk. The room filled with Karen’s exasperated laugh and Buck’s candid chuckles. Though it’s not long before Karen checks the time, an alarmed expression on her face.
“Shit, the families will start getting here in ten.”
“Language,” Buck comments, smiling at Denny sitting on the floor.
“Shoo, get to your own class,” Karen scrambles up from where she had been sitting, ushering Buck out of the room.
“You want me out that bad, huh?” He jokes.
“Yes. Now go meet parents. I’ll drop Denny off at your room afterwards so you can grab him ice cream.”
“Yes!” Denny shouts, high fiving Buck before he leaves.
He’s in his own room now, and just barely five minutes of sitting alone in his room, families begin arriving.
To be honest, he’s quite shocked at the amount of people crowding into his room. Each student accompanied by a parent or two — some even with siblings. It’s a bigger class this year, maybe twenty-five kids or so. But Evan Buckley is nothing if not quick to adapt.
It seems every second he’s pulled into another conversation. The same questions and answers repeated, but Buck is more than happy to converse. He wants to prove to these people that he is capable of providing a safe and educational environment for the children.
He loves getting to match the names on the list he’s been given of his class to the faces. Not every student has shown up, but it’s enough for him to be excited about this school year.
It seems like both the blink of an eye and an eternity has gone by before everybody has trickled out. He’s exhausted, but Buck can’t stop grinning — his cheeks nearly strained. He's tidying up the small mess made from the last hour or so when he hears someone entering into his room, barely audible over where his air pods sit in his ears. His first thought is that it’s Karen and Denny, but turns around to see two strangers instead.
There’s a kid, dirty blonde curls and glasses that sit in front of his eyes. An annoyed, yet somewhat smiley expression sits on his face as he glares at the man, presumably his dad, beside him. The man, dark hair all slicked back aside from one small strand falling in front of his face. His brown doe eyes look tired and worried.
“Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. My shift ran overtime. I’m Eddie Diaz — this is my son Christopher. Chris,” the man, Eddie, rambles, a slight blush forming over top of his tanned skin. “You’re Mr. Buckley, I assume?”
“Yep, though kids usually call me Mr. Buck, less of a mouthful,” he laughs awkwardly, “and don’t worry about it. You’re what, five minutes? It won’t take long at all.”
“Ok, good. I’d hate to bother,” he chuckles awkwardly.
“No worries. So,” Buck hesitates for a moment, forgetting what he’d usually say next. He’s slightly flustered, startled by the two’s sudden appearance. “So you can look around the class, and feel free to ask any questions, tell me about yourself, anything that comes to mind. More than happy to help.”
The two walk around the class, Chris mumbling into Eddie’s ear, making both of them giggle. Buck can’t help but smile fondly in response to watching them. After a moment, Chris distracted with something on the other side of the room, Eddie approaches Buck.
“Hey,” Eddie pauses, unsure of what to say, “this is our first year in LA, we moved this summer from Texas. Not sure if you’ve been made aware of it, but Chris has cerebral palsy. He doesn’t want an extra support teacher or whatever, but yeah. My contact info should be in the system — just. Make sure he’s ok,” Eddie talks, stumbling over his words. There’s something so sweet about the way he talks about his kid. Buck can tell he’s worried about Chris, his heart swelling at the thought. It’s not the first time someone’s worried how their child will fair in school and it certainly will not be the last.
“He’ll be ok, he seems like an amazing kid,” Buck glances over to where Chris is occupied with a book he found on a shelf. “You mentioned you just moved from Texas? How do you like LA so far?”
“Oh, the traffic is horrible. And people are so chaotic, you would not believe the day I had. But there is never a dull day.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Buck pauses before huffing out “eventually.”
They continue making small talk about Chris or Buck’s class structure, though they are interrupted by a knock on the open door. Karen stands in the doorway with a bored Denny by her side.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for keeping you here longer,” Eddie startles, wide eyes on an embarrassed expression.
“Don’t stress, it was nice meeting you and Chris,” Buck replies smoothly, masking the warmth he feels in his face.
“Chris? C’mon let’s head out and leave Mr. Buck alone,” Eddie calls out, a joking undertone to his words.
“Bye, Mr. Buck!” Chris exclaims, a wide toothy grin spread across his face. Eddie says his own goodbye and Buck returns it.
After a minute, sure they are gone, Karen smirks. “What was that all about?”
“His shift ran late,” Buck simply replies.
“Uh-huh,” Karen trails off before changing the topic, “Denny’s ready for some ice cream. Drop him off at home in an hour?”
“Can do,” Buck smiles, grinning at Denny.
The three walk out to the parking lot together after Buck quickly wraps up what he started before Eddie arrived. And soon enough, Buck finds himself driving Denny to the nearest ice cream shop open.
“So, how was your day?” Buck asks an excited looking Denny sitting in the back.
“Boring. Mama had me sit in the corner and do my own thing the whole time. I wish I didn't have to go to this stupid thing,” the kid groans.
“Look on the bright side, you get to go out for ice cream with me! And if you had stayed home, wouldn’t you have just sat doing your own thing too?”
“I guess,” Denny trails off, a small smile sneaking up on his face.
After successfully getting laughs from Denny, they finally pull up into the ice cream shop’s parking lot.
“I think I’m going to get the cotton candy flavour,” Buck comments after they enter the building, admiring the array of different flavours spread across the counter.
“That’s gross,” Denny scrunches up his face.
“Aren’t you a kid? You’re supposed to like flavours like that.”
“No, I like cookies and cream though. Could I have that?” Denny pauses for a moment, “..and maybe double scoop?”
“Just don’t tell your moms and we got a deal,” Buck winks, approaching the lady at the counter. He orders a double scoop cone of cookies and cream for Denny, and a single scoop of cotton candy in a bowl for himself.
The two practically gobble down their scoops the second they sit down at the cleanest looking table, way in the corner. Buck and Denny laugh and snort at each other’s ice cream mustaches — though Buck’s is intentional, hoping and succeeding to make the kid laugh.
“Ok, bud. Ready to go home?” Buck smiles, Denny nods in response.
The ride to Karen’s goes the same as it always does. Denny and him making jokes and small comments, keeping the car from going completely silent.
“Thank you for taking him out, Buck,” Karen says when they arrive, Denny already inside the house.
“No, problem. Love hanging out with him. And he’s not mean to me, unlike his mother,” Buck jokes.
“Like you don’t deserve it,” She says with an eye roll.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, I gotta head home, I am exhausted.”
“Same, honestly. Thank you again, Buck. He’s always so happy after hanging out with you. Goodnight,” Karen smiles, her face fond.
Buck waves her off, hopping into his jeep and heading home. He plays the same playlist he was listening to earlier in the day, nodding along with the music. His mind wonders to the kid and his dad who came in late. Well, more specifically the brown doe eyes of the father. They remind him of his sister’s colour. He hasn’t seen her in years, only getting a Christmas card once a year. But something about the man — his name on the tip of Buck’s tongue, annoyingly, he can’t quite remember it — draws him in. They’re welcoming, reminding him of home; the same way his sister’s did, but quite different at the same time.
He’s pulling into his driveway, the road home completely blank to him, muscle memory must have taken over while his mind wandered.
The door to his apartment is unlocked, unsettling Buck a bit. He’s certain he locked the door, but maybe he didn’t? He curses himself. Someone could have broken in. Though the door being unlocked isn’t the only flag raised in Buck’s mind. His light’s on and a bag he doesn’t recognize is on the floor in the entry way.
“Hello?” Buck calls out stupidly, realizing that he’d probably die first in a horror movie. He wanders through his kitchen, stopping at the dining table. His face drops, a million and one emotions hitting him at once.
“Hey, Evan.”
“Maddie?”