chaoticforever - Tumblr blog

chaoticforever · 2 months ago

Text

When Perfect Cracks | Eddie Diaz x Male! Reader

Summary: To the outside world, it seemed like everything was perfect. Y/n had a boyfriend who loved him, a job he worked hard for, and a life finally falling into place. But Y/n had learned long ago that perfection often came with a price.

A/n: Shoutout to the person who requested this. It’s been fun writing for the 9-1-1 fandom and I liked writing this.

It's often said that time flies when you're having fun, but being in love and sharing those happy moments with that special someone takes it to a whole new level, making time pass by even more quickly.

One year.

That’s how long Y/n L/n and Eddie Diaz had been a couple. Looking back, it was almost comical how they started dating, considering the two hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot. In fact, Y/n couldn’t stand Eddie, to say the least. And Eddie? Oh, he hadn’t been too fond of Y/n either.

It all started with the parking lot incident at the grocery store. Y/n could still hear Eddie’s exasperated tone, accusing him of backing into his truck when, in reality, Eddie was the one who hit him, leaving a nice, ugly dent in Y/n's car. The man had the audacity to argue, crossing his arms with that infuriating, know-it-all look like he had never been wrong a day in his life.

Realistically, Y/n should’ve called the cops, but he’d been in a rush and didn’t have time to deal with it. He just hoped he’d never have to see that dude again.

Fate, though, had other plans.

On his day off, thanks to some saved-up PTO, Y/n got a text from his best friend and roommate, Buck, asking if he could drop off the lunch he’d forgotten at their apartment. Being the good friend he was — and knowing how much Buck liked his cooking — Y/n agreed and headed to the 118 firehouse to drop it off and bounce.

And that’s when Buck introduced him to the team. Surprisingly, one of them was the one who dented his car — Eddie Diaz. The moment Eddie saw him, he let out a little sigh, as if Y/n’s mere presence was some kind of personal inconvenience. It probably was, but that was Eddie's fault. Their conversation that day? Well, it was nothing but passive-aggressive remarks.

So, yeah, Y/n was not a fan. He thought Eddie was arrogant, pompous, and far too smug for someone who acted like being a firefighter made him superior.

As it turned out, the animosity was a two-way street. Y/n later found out from Buck that Eddie had called him stuck-up. Annoying. Said he didn’t understand why Buck was friends with someone like him.

Y/n knew It would have stayed that way — two people who did not tolerate each other, held together only by their mutual friendship with Buck — if it hadn’t been for that one sunny afternoon at the park.

The 118 had been hosting a community event for local kids, setting up obstacle courses, fire safety demos, and fun little challenges. He had only agreed to attend because Buck wanted him to help out, and Y/n figured it was a decent way to spend a Saturday. He wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to give back, so he set up a barbecue station, grilling sausages, burgers, and hot dogs for the attendees.

And then he saw Eddie with the children.

A little girl, barely six, had stumbled and scraped her knee. Y/n went to help, but Eddie got there first, kneeling down with a gentleness that caught him off guard, to be honest. Eddie's voice was warm and reassuring as he told her she was strong, it was just a scratch, that he’d had worse but always got back up. She sniffled, nodded, and, without hesitation, held out her arms for Eddie to pick her up after he finished bandaging her knee.

Y/n hadn't expected Eddie to be so kind. It was one thing to know that Eddie's job as a firefighter involved helping people, but it was quite another to see him do it off the clock with such genuine warmth and compassion. Y/n had anticipated a more gruff, no-nonsense approach, but instead, Eddie was gentle, patient, and encouraging. Just like he encouraged a nervous young boy to climb up the mini firefighter obstacle course. He certainly hadn't expected to see that little display. And Y/n definitely hadn’t expected the way his own heart softened at the sight.

Maybe Eddie wasn’t the arrogant jerk Y/n had thought he was. Eddie, it seemed, had misjudged Y/n as well. He assumed that Y/n was too stuck-up to bother with something as humble as volunteering at a community event. Yet as he watched Y/n flip burgers and hotdogs on the grill, he was surprised to see that Y/n was not only present but also actively participating and helping out.

But somewhere between setting up activity stations together and laughing at a group of kids who somehow ended up covered in paint, the tension between them shifted. And later that day, the two talked — really talked. No snark. No jabs. Just two people realizing they had been wrong about each other in the beginning.

That day changed everything.

What followed was polite conversations that quickly turned into playful teasing. Then, Y/n and Eddie were hanging out with each other. Soon, they had late-night talks, both in person and over the phone.

Before either of them fully realized it, something more had started to form. Feelings they hadn’t anticipated. Eddie was the one who made the first move by both asking him out and kissing him first.

Now, a year later, here they were, celebrating their first anniversary. Who would have thought? Certainly not Y/n. However, he surely wasn’t complaining because he had fallen in love with Eddie. And that was one thing he’d never regret.

Y/n slipped on a deep, rich blue shirt over his white tee, fingers working the buttons just as Buck nearly walked past his room. He had just gotten in, heading toward the bathroom, but paused when he caught sight of Y/n getting dressed.

"Well, look at you," Buck stepped into the doorway and gave him an exaggerated once-over. "Dressed up. Got big plans?"

Y/n rolled his eyes. Buck was more than aware of his plans tonight and what day he was celebrating. Hell, Buck has been celebrating today more than Y/n himself.

In fact, Buck had been making sure that Y/n knew he was aware, by sending him a barrage of "Happy Anniversary" texts — fifteen, to be exact — early that morning. But that wasn't all he did, not even close. His roommate had also brought him a cake with a sappy anniversary message, posted a shoutout to him and Eddie on his Instagram story, and recommended the restaurant they were going to. Granted, Buck mentioned it months ago and they decided to check it out tonight, but still.

Regardless, Y/n decided to play along, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. "Nah, Buck, I just enjoy wearing dressy shirts while lounging around our apartment."

Buck chuckled. "Right. Because nothing says 'lazy night in' like a button-up shirt and cologne I can smell from the hall."

"Maybe I want to smell nice for myself."

"Or maybe you just want to smell nice for Eddie," Buck teased, wiggling his brows.

Y/n shook his head as he finished buttoning up his shirt and started adjusting his collar. Okay, fine, Buck wasn’t exactly wrong. He’d chosen this new Versace cologne because he knew Eddie would like it, but he wasn't going to admit that to Buck, not out loud, at least. "You're impossible," saying that showed how Buck was right on point about Y/n.

"And yet, you continue to put up with me," the blue-eyed firefighter fired back. "So, where are you and Romeo going tonight?"

"That place you wouldn’t shut up about — Desiderata," Y/n replied, smoothing down his shirt. "And before you say anything, yes, I made the reservation a month ago."

Quickly, Buck held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I’m just making sure you don’t mess this up. One year with Eddie Diaz is a big deal. The man practically had a heart attack picking out your gift."

Y/n paused mid-motion, turning to Buck with narrowed eyes. "Wait, what?" Eddie got him a gift? Even after Y/n had made it abundantly clear he did not want a gift.

Blue eyes widened as if Buck had let slip a secret he hadn't meant to share. Upon realization, Buck quickly shook his head. "Nothing. Just forget I said anything." The words tumbled out in a rush, and he didn't wait for Y/n to reply before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

"Oh, no you don’t." Y/n grabbed his phone and then followed Buck into the kitchen, where his friend was already rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out a bag of chips. "Buck, spill it. What did Eddie get me? It better not be anything expensive."

"I am sworn to secrecy." Buck zipped his lips, making a show of locking them shut and throwing away the imaginary key. "Besides, it’s better if you see it yourself."

Y/n groaned. He really hoped Eddie hadn’t gone overboard. He wasn’t a fan of receiving gifts in general, but if Eddie had gone all out, Y/n was going to have words. That money could’ve been spent on Christopher or on something actually important rather than getting him stuff.

"Fine. I’ll just wait and see for myself." He checked his phone, noting the time. If he wanted to make it to the restaurant on time, he had to leave now. But before heading out, Y/n had one last question. "Yo, weren’t you supposed to go out with, uh... the reporter chick? Tyra?"

"Taylor," his roommate corrected, as he opened up the fridge and grabbed a can of Pepsi. "And she had to cover a story tonight, so our date's been rescheduled."

Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but before he could pry further, his phone buzzed in his hands. He looked down at it and saw Eddie’s name flash across the screen.

Eddie: I’m at the restaurant. Take your time, but just know every second you make me wait, I’m mentally judging you.

A chuckle escaped Y/n as he shook his head and pocketed his phone. "Alright, I’m leaving. You good if I head out now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go have your disgustingly romantic evening," Buck waved him off. He picked up the soda can and the bag of chips and headed into the living room, clearly ready to spend the evening doing his own thing. "I'll be here, watching the game," he plopped down in the armchair with a comfortable sigh. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV before adding. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"That doesn't leave room for much, man, especially the good stuff." and that little comment was definitely a dig at Buck's playboy past before he toned it down.

"Hey!"

Y/n’s laughter echoed as he grabbed his keys from the metal hook and left their apartment, locking the door behind him. The drive to the restaurant wasn’t long, but his mind kept drifting back to Buck’s slip-up about Eddie’s gift. He really, really hoped Eddie hadn’t gone overboard. Y/n didn’t need anything fancy. Spending the night with Eddie was more than enough.

Pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot, he shifted the car into park and checked himself in the rearview mirror. His shirt? Smooth and crisp. Hair? Decent enough. Lips? Soft and chap-free. He was ready.

When he walked inside, Y/n realized that Buck wasn't exaggerating — this place was fancy. The restaurant featured gold chandeliers that hung above the patrons, pristine white tablecloths covering the tables, sleek lanterns with LED candles, a violinist playing soft, classical music, and even a waterfall inside, cascading down rocks with a soft, calming sound.

And he quickly spotted Eddie, who was sitting at a table near the waterfall. Dressed in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, Eddie was focused on his phone, completely unaware of the effect he was already having on Y/n. Eddie looked really good.

He is doing this on purpose, Y/n thought. He has to be. Eddie had to know how good he looked, how those damn rolled-up sleeves highlighted his toned arms, the ones Y/n had admired more times than he’d ever admit out loud.

Y/n walked over, stopping at the chair meant for him. "How’s the date so far?"

At the sound of his voice, Eddie looked up. The moment their eyes met, a small, knowing smirk curled at his lips, the one that never failed to make Y/n’s stomach flip. His gaze lingered, taking in the deep blue shirt, the way it complimented Y/n’s skin, the way he smelled — Y/n could tell from the look in Eddie’s hazel eyes that the cologne choice had been a success.

"So far?" Eddie teased, locking his phone and setting it face down. "Pretty boring. But I think it just got a whole lot better."

"Smooth Diaz."

"Only for you." Eddie gestured to the seat across from him. "Now sit before people think I got stood up on my anniversary."

Y/n huffed out a laugh and slid into the seat, taking another glance around. "You know, Buck wasn’t wrong — this place is nice. It almost feels like we should have worn tuxes or a suit jacket." He reached for the menu but didn’t open it, instead letting his gaze drift back to Eddie. "And you look handsome, by the way. Though I see you went with the ‘roll the sleeves up and make Y/n suffer’ look. Bold choice."

Eddie smirked, casually leaning forward, and resting his forearms on the table. “Oh? You noticed?” His voice was all feigned innocence, however, his expression gave him away, revealing the truth behind his words. Eddie knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it on purpose.

Y/n scoffed, opening the menu to avoid looking at Eddie too much. "Hard not to."

The h/c hair male let his eyes skim over the food options, debating what to order. Normally, he’d go for something simple when he went out, such as a burger or a cheesesteak, but tonight, he figured he’d try something new; different. Something a little more fitting for tonight's occasion.

"How was work?" Eddie suddenly asked.

Y/n let out a deep sigh, setting the menu aside and rubbing his temple as if trying to massage away the stress of the day. "Very exhausting," he answered, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and relief. "I had to spend most of the day working out a strategy to close the Morgan deal. It's been dragging on for weeks, and my boss was breathing down my neck for a solid proposal by the end of the day." He sighed again, his shoulders sagging a bit as Y/n relived the monotony of his day. "So, basically, I spent my day working on the Morgan deal, staring at spreadsheets, crunching numbers, speaking to clients, and pretending like I didn't want to throw my computer out of the nearest window."

Eddie nodded. "So, a typical finance day?"

"Pretty much," Y/n muttered. "Except this time, if I screw up, we lose a multi-million-dollar deal. No pressure, though."

Except all Y/n had felt was pressure. He knew that he couldn't afford to screw up this deal, not when so much was riding on it. If he failed, he would not only lose the deal, but also his chance at getting a promotion, and that was something Y/n had desperately wanted for a while now.

The promotion would bring with it a significant pay increase, more benefits, and, most importantly, a private office, something Y/n always wanted. No more cramped cubicles, no more distractions, no more shared workspace. Just his own four walls and a door with his name on it.

Eddie studied Y/n, his head tilting to the side in a subtle, thoughtful gesture. "You don't screw up," the words that followed were a statement, not a question, and they were laced with a quiet confidence that was reassuring in Y/n's intelligence.

Y/n's eyebrows shot up, his expression skeptical. "You sound pretty sure of that." Judging from his tone, Y/n, undoubtedly, wanted Eddie to explain the basis for his confidence in him, and the man sure did.

"Because I am." Eddie shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re a smart guy, and you always work hard. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you."

Hearing that caused Y/n to feel warmth blooming in his chest. Eddie had a way of making him feel like he was capable of anything, even when he doubted himself. This guy sure did have a way with words.

"Thanks," he gave a small, grateful smile. "Hopefully, my boss feels the same way."

Just then, a waiter approached their table. A young man with a friendly smile and an immaculately crisp uniform. "Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Nathan, and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?"

Eddie turned his attention to Y/n with a questioning look. "What are you feeling?"

"Hmm," Y/n's e/c eyes scanned the menu once more, his fingers tracing the edges of the page as he deliberated on his drink of choice. "I'll take a whiskey sour."

Both of Eddie's eyebrows shot up from Y/n's choice. "Going strong tonight, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Y/n confirmed without missing a beat. "I deserve this after the day I had."

Eddie's head nodded to the side as if to say that he agreed with Y/n's decision to treat himself to a stronger drink without verbally speaking. His gaze then shifted to Nathan. "I will take a Maui margarita."

Nathan's pencil moved, the tip gliding smoothly across the small notepad in his left hand as he quickly jotted down the drink orders. "Alright, I'll be back with your drinks shortly." He sent another grin.

Once the waiter left, Y/n asked about Eddie's Saturday, and Eddie explained that had spent the day watching movies with his kid and baking cookies with him.

However, their little baking endeavors had been less than successful, with the cookies emerging from the oven burnt to a crisp. In fact, they were so severely charred that even Christopher, who was typically eager to taste Eddie's food, had declined to take a bite. So, he pretty much spent his time baking for nothing. Even then, he couldn't blame Christopher for not taking a simple bite out of them.

After all, when Eddie, himself, had mustered the courage to try one of the cookies himself, he had been forced to concede that they were, indeed, inedible, which was the kindest way of putting it.

That is precisely why Y/n had taken it upon himself to handle all the baking duties whenever he visited Eddie's place. He had even assumed the role of head chef, not because Eddie was a bad cook — on the contrary, Eddie was quite good at cooking — but Y/n had always learned to appreciate the value of edible food.

Pretty soon, their drinks arrived, and Nathan set a whiskey sour in front of Y/n and a Maui margarita in front of Eddie. Then, Nathan took their food orders, jotting down Y/n's selection of the Grilled Chicken Alfredo and Eddie's choice of the New Orleans Pasta, before leaving to put their orders in.

Once the waiter left again, Y/n lifted his glass to his lips and savored a slow sip of his whiskey sour, eyeing Eddie over the rim of the glass. He had been trying to resist the urge to mention the surprise gift Eddie had gotten him, knowing it was to be a secret until the right moment. He tried to respect the surprise. But yeah, he couldn't do it. He had to say something.

"So…" Y/n's lips parted and the word left his lips in a languid, drawn-out manner. "Word on the street is you got me a gift."

Eddie's eyes widened in surprise, his finger, which had been absently tracing the rim of his glass, stilled as he blinked in reaction to Y/n's words. A sigh left his mouth and he shook his head. "Damn it, Buck," he muttered to himself, his voice low and resigned. "I should've known he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut," the firefighter found his gaze on Y/n. "I specifically told him not to say anything."

"Yeah, well, it’s Buck," Y/n said matter-of-factly. "Keeping secrets isn’t exactly his strong suit." He pushed his drink aside and leaned forward. "What did you get me? I told you not to get me anything."

"And I ignored you," Eddie replied smoothly, unapologetically disregarding Y/n's wishes. "Because I wanted to get you something special. And before you start, no, what I got you is not expensive."

Y/n’s lips flattened into a thin line and he shot him a look. "That's what people say when it is expensive. So, what is it, huh?"

Eddie could see there was no way out of this. He had planned to give Y/n the gift after dinner, but he knew how persistent Y/n was, and there was no chance he’d drop it until he saw it. With a sigh, Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box, setting it on the table right in front of his boyfriend.

Y/n stared at it like it was a ticking bomb. He wondered what was inside there. It had to be some type of jewelry, judging by the box. And for one panicked second, the e/c-eyed man's brain jumped to the craziest possibility that there was a ring inside. Oh, he hoped not. He loved Eddie, but the idea of marriage, at least at this point during their relationship, was not something he was ready to consider.

All of a sudden, his thoughts screeched to a halt. He paused, his eyes still fixed on the box, as a new comment formed in his mind: now wait a damn minute—?

"This looks expensive."

"Shut up and open it, Y/n."

Without waiting another moment, Y/n picked up the box and lifted the lid open. He let out an internal sigh of relief when he saw that it wasn’t a ring. Thank God. Nestled inside was a sleek silver chain necklace, simple yet elegant, resting on a soft, red cushion. His eyes traced over the delicately engraved plate in the center, reading the words etched into the metal.

Siempre contigo.

Y/n looked up at Eddie with a questioning look in his eyes. "What does this mean?"

Eddie's expression underwent a subtle transformation, his features softening into something more... affectionate. He reached for his drink and took a slow sip of it. "It means: Always with you."

Always with you. It was three little words, but the meaning behind them, especially in this context, carried so much weight. Y/n stared at Eddie, something in his chest tightening. He glanced back down at the necklace, then back at Eddie, who was watching him with that steady gaze — the one that meant he was waiting for Y/n to voice his opinion on the necklace.

For a moment, Y/n didn’t know what to say and was rendered momentarily mute. He simply held the necklace in his palm, feeling the cool weight of it against his skin. Eddie wasn’t usually the most openly expressive guy, but he had a way of showing how much he cared without needing to say it outright. And this? This was exactly that, and it was so touching.

The words tumbled out of Y/n's lips in a soft, barely audible whisper, as if he was still attempting to process the reality of the gift. "You really got this for me?" and Y/n's voice lacked its usual teasing edge.

Eddie's head nodded, a gentle, affirming motion as he replied, "Yes. I know you're not big on gifts, but I wanted you to have something from me. Something you can wear every day — if you want to, that is." He just shrugged and he looked almost sheepish, his eyes dropping to the table before rising back up to meet Y/n's gaze head-on. "I just… I wanted you to have something that reminded you I’m always here. No matter how crazy work gets, how tough life becomes for you, or how stressed you are — I’m with you. Always."

Y/n swallowed. He wasn't typically the emotional type, but there was something about Eddie's words, about the necklace, that had touched a deep chord within him. And dammit, Eddie really knew how to get to him, how to slip past every last one of his defenses and make his heart ache in the best way possible. He ran his finger over the smooth silver, tracing the engraving with his thumb. It was perfect.

He really, really liked it.

Actually— "I love it," Y/n said, pulling the necklace from the box and unclasping it. Eddie's hand shot out, taking the jewelry from his hands. Moving around the table, he quickly fastened it around Y/n’s neck.

"There we go," Eddie murmured once it was secured. Though, his hands lingered for a moment, grazing the warm skin at the nape of Y/n’s neck before he settled into his seat. "Now you’re stuck with me."

Y/n laughed, adjusting the necklace so it sat just right. "I’ve been stuck with you since the day you put that dent in my car."

"You put that dent in your own car."

"That’s debatable," and it was funny how, even after all this time, neither of them had backed down from blaming the other for that infamous parking lot incident. It was a lifelong argument now, one they’d probably continue to have decades down the line. "You know, this is kind of unfair, right? Now I feel my gift for you sucks."

Eddie looked genuinely surprised. "You got me a gift?" he sounded shocked, too.

“Of course," Y/n confirmed, "I did. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?"

Eddie chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And here you were, giving me a whole speech about not wanting a gift, only to turn around and get me one, too."

"Yeah, yeah," Y/n dismissively waved Eddie off, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a black box. "Guess I’m a hypocrite." And, honestly? Y/n knew that.

Eddie took the box with a curious look before opening it up. Inside sat a sleek, silver watch with a deep black leather strap. It was classic, elegant, and exactly Eddie’s style. Eddie's lips parted slightly as he traced the edge of the watch face.

Y/n studied Eddie’s expression closely and he could tell that he liked it. "I know you’ve been wanting another watch since your old one broke. I figured I would save you the trouble of having to shop for one."

Eddie was still staring at the watch like he couldn’t quite believe Y/n had gotten him one. "Y/n, this is — this is amazing."

"Oh, I know," for a watch that cost eight hundred bucks, it better be nothing short of amazing. "I have great taste, don't I?"

Eddie's eyes lifted, meeting Y/n's gaze as a soft, breathy laugh escaped his lips. "You really didn't have to do this," he said.

Y/n tilted his head slightly. "And yet, I did."

Following that, Eddie's face broke into a wide, joyful smile as he removed the watch from its cushion sliding it onto his wrist. He fastened the buckle, making a slight adjustment to get the fit just right, before holding his arm out to admire the way the watch looked on him. "Perfect," he declared. And then, without warning, he leaned across the table, and grabbed Y/n's face, his fingers wrapping around Y/n's jaw. Before Y/n could even react, Eddie's lips were on his, pressing into a brief, but intense kiss. It was enough to make Y/n’s heart race as he kissed him back, his fingers gripping Eddie’s wrist before the firefighter finally pulled away.

"Happy anniversary, Y/n," Eddie laced his hand with Y/n’s as his thumb traced a soothing pattern over Y/n's knuckles.

The h/c-haired man gave a little squeeze to his hand. "Happy anniversary, Eddie."

And yeah, Y/n was happy that night. Really happy. It was one of those rare, perfect nights where everything aligned just right, where nothing felt off or out of place. However, sometimes, Y/n worried when things got too perfect. Life had this way of pulling the rug out from under you and throwing curveballs when you least expected it. He’d felt that firsthand when his ex-boyfriend of two years, Brant, had cheated on him the moment Y/n had let himself believe things were solid. Brant's infidelity had left him shattered and for a long time, he had struggled to trust again.

But Eddie was different. He wasn’t Brant. He was steady. Reliable. The kind of guy who said Siempre contigo and meant it. Y/n knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Eddie. Not tonight. Not ever.

The gift was thoughtful. The restaurant was beautiful. And the company? Well, that was the best part. Or so he thought. Because later, when the two men ended up in Eddie’s bedroom after their dinner…

Yeah, Y/n had no choice but to revise his previous stance. That was the best part.

XXXXX XXXXX

Y/n stood before the mirror, making a slight adjustment to the cap on his head to ensure it was perfectly straight. It had been weeks since he had a Saturday off from work, and he planned to make the most of his free day. Eddie suggested spending the day outside, and Y/n had thrown out the idea of going to Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, a place he had always wanted to visit but never had the chance to since moving to L.A. it seemed like the perfect way to spend the day with both Eddie and Christopher.

A timer beeped from the kitchen. Turning away from the mirror, Y/n sauntered into the kitchen, where he slipped on a pair of orange mittens before opening the oven. He pulled out a tray of chocolate chip cookies, setting them on the table as he kicked the oven door closed behind him. Since Eddie's previous attempt at baking had resulted in a batch of burnt cookies, Y/n had taken it upon himself to make a batch of non-burnt ones for Christopher.

Right on cue, Eddie strolled into the kitchen, his eyes immediately locking onto the cookies like a man on a mission.

"Finally, they're done. Smells so good," Eddie’s hand reached out, intending to grab a cookie and shove it down his throat. Just as his fingers were about to make contact with the tray, Y/n swooped in and slapped Eddie's hand away with a playful swat. Eddie's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, and he looked up at Y/n with a mock-offended expression from being denied one. "What did you do that for?"

"These cookies are for Christopher," Y/n answered. "Besides, they just got out of the oven, so they need a minute to cool."

"These cookies are for me too. Sharing is caring, as they say, cariño." Eddie's hand, once again, reached for a cookie, as if hoping to sneak one past Y/n's defenses by using the affectionate term to try and melt Y/n's resolve. But Y/n was having none of it and smacked Eddie's hand away a second time. "You know," he crossed his arms, "you’re kinda cruel for making the whole house smell like fresh cookies and then not letting me have one when I am clearly in need of a cookie fix."

"And I'm in need of some sunscreen for today. So how about you go check if you have some? Then you can have a cookie."

Eddie's face scrunched up in a scowl, and he muttered something under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen. Y/n didn't quite catch what he had said, and he thought he was in the clear. Just then, Eddie paused and suddenly turned around. In a flash, he snatched a cookie off the tray and made a run for it, dashing out of the kitchen before Y/n could even react and, at least, attempt to stop him. That damn man.

Shaking his head, Y/n grabbed a spatula and started transferring the cookies into a plastic container. Prior to sealing it, he picked one up and took a bite, deciding to try for himself and... wow. He mentally patted himself on the back. The cookies turned out really good. Christopher was certainly going to love them. And Eddie—

The sudden knock at the front door broke the spell of Y/n's cookie-induced reverie, and he was jolted back to reality. I wonder who that could be, Y/n thought as his feet carried him to the front door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a woman with green eyes and brown hair that fell in loose waves down her back. What caught Y/n's attention, however, was her impressive height — she was very tall for a woman. Y/n didn't know who she was. He had never seen her before.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

In return, the woman threw him a friendly smile, but it was tempered by a hint of confusion that danced in her eyes. "…Hi," her greeting was polite, courteous, but slightly hesitant, as if she was unsure of herself. Her gaze briefly dropped to the phone in her hand, as if double-checking something before refocusing on Y/n, "I'm sorry, I think I might've gotten the wrong address. I was looking for Eddie Diaz...?"

"Oh, then you have the right place. I’ll go get him. Who should I say is here—?" He ended his question in a curious manner. It wasn’t just for introductions. Y/n was also trying to figure out if Eddie had ever mentioned this woman before, and if so, what their relationship was like. Was she a friend of Eddie's? Or a family member?

The woman's mouth opened to answer Y/n's question. However, her attention was caught by the sound of approaching footsteps, which was getting louder by the second. She stopped mid-breath, with her head moving slightly to the side.

Eddie sauntered into the living room, a bottle of sunscreen clutched in his hand, eyes fixed on the label. "You're in luck. I still have a lot — well, some — sunscreen left for you. I think I’ve earned another cookie, don't you?" He looked up, but his expression faltered as his gaze landed on the woman standing in the doorway. His eyes widened in shock, and Y/n saw a flicker of some expression on Eddie's face. Anger or, maybe, annoyance if Y/n had to guess. "What are you doing here?"

The woman, whose name Y/n still didn’t know, stared at Eddie in the way people do when they haven’t seen someone in a long time. Her eyes roamed over his face, reacquainting herself with every feature.

Then, with a subtle straightening of her back, she swallowed hard, and a small, tentative smile began to shape on her lips. The smile was hesitant, almost shy, and it seemed to tremble on the edge of her mouth, testing the waters. And it was accompanied by a greeting: "Hi, Eddie."

Y/n shifted uncomfortably by the door, his eyes darting back and forth between Eddie and the mysterious woman. A sudden sense of awkwardness washed over him. Y/n felt like an intruder in this home as if he had now stumbled into a private conversation that wasn't meant for his ears. "Uh, who is this?" He asked, evidently directing his question to Eddie.

"This is Shannon," Eddie answered, his gaze never leaving her face as he spoke.

Oh. This was Shannon. As in Eddie’s ex-wife and Christopher’s mother Shannon. Well, this has caused Y/n to feel even more awkward. This is the woman who had left Eddie to raise their son on his own. Y/n had heard the painful story from Eddie, about how Shannon had abandoned them to care for her mother, but also to get away from Eddie. She disappeared, leaving Eddie to pick up the pieces and raise Christopher by himself. What really stuck out to Y/n was the fact that she had never come back to visit her own son or called to check in. Not even once, and that was messed up.

"Oh," Y/n said, the word escaping his lips as a default response because he didn't know what else to say at this moment. After a beat, more words tumbled out before he could stop them. "Well, uh… come inside." Y/n stepped aside, allowing her to enter.

Upon doing that, Eddie's eyes snapped to his, a look of warning or perhaps even annoyance flashing across his features. Y/n met his gaze with a sheepish shrug, apologizing silently, but he genuinely did not know what else to do in this type of situation. He didn't have a script for how to handle the arrival of Eddie's ex-wife at this moment, and he was simply trying to roll with it. Besides, Shannon was clearly here for a reason, and the two men had a good idea of what that reason might be.

Shannon nodded her thanks to Y/n as she stepped across the threshold, into the house. Y/n closed the door behind her, his eyes darting to Eddie as he tried to read his reaction. Eddie's shoulders were tense, his jaw was clenched, and his entire demeanor screamed that he was not pleased to see Shannon as he watched her walk into the living room.

Shannon's eyes roamed the living room, taking in the surroundings. It was as if she was trying to reassemble a puzzle, piecing together the fragments of a life she had purposely left behind years ago.

Her attention lingered on the framed photographs, though. Some of the photos showed Christopher alone, his bright smile capturing the camera's lens, his school photos, snapshots from the park, pictures at the carnival, and other moments from his childhood. But it was the photos of Christopher with Eddie that seemed to hold her attention the longest.

There was tension. The kind that settled heavily in the air and made the silence feel unbearable. But the silence was broken by Eddie’s voice cutting through, finally. "Why are you here, Shannon?"

"I—" Shannon let out a tiny breath, finally shifting her gaze back to Eddie, meeting his stare head-on. Her green eyes locked onto his hazel eyes. "I wanted to speak to you. And I wanted to see Christopher."

Once Shannon's words escaped her lips, Eddie's head began to shake to convey his disagreement. What exactly he was disagreeing with, Y/n couldn't tell. Was it the idea of talking to him, or the notion of seeing Christopher? Or was it both? It was most likely a no to both statements.

Just as the tension in the room seemed to be reaching a boiling point, the sound of soft footsteps echoed down the hall, as if an unseen force had been watching the interaction and decided to intervene. Christopher appeared in the living room with a bright smile on his face. He had his Dodgers cap on and his excitement for the day was obvious in his features.

Christopher's bright smile and energetic demeanor came to an abrupt halt as his gaze landed on his mom, standing in the room with them His eyes widened, taking in the sight of her after all these years.

"…Mommy…?" he breathed, his tone uncertain, as if he was unsure if he was seeing things, if this was all just a dream or a trick of the mind. He took one step forward, never letting his eyes leave Shannon's face. "Is that really you?"

Shannon felt her heart tighten in her chest. She nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Christopher. It’s really me."

Without another second wasted, Christopher rushed forward. Shannon immediately knelt to meet him, wrapping him in her arms as tightly as he held onto her like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go, leaving him with the memories of this fleeting moment. It was intense.

"I missed you so much," Christopher whispered into his mother's shirt.

"I missed you too, baby," she responded, as she lifted Christopher up into the air. She squeezed him tightly, never wanting to let him go, never wanting this moment to end. Tears formed in Shannon's eyes and she buried her face in her son's hair.

Finally, Christopher pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. His face was bright with excitement. "I have so much to tell you! Dad and I were going to the pier today! And Y/n was coming too!" He turned to Eddie. "Can she come with us?"

The room seemed to freeze. Eddie didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight, but his gaze did soften slightly upon seeing how happy his son was at this moment.

Seconds stretched unbearably. Shannon turned to Eddie, too. "I would love to go," she said gently. "If that’s okay with you."

Eddie's sharp exhalation through his nose was a telltale sign of his internal struggle, as he stood there, his eyes cast downward at the floor. Y/n could almost see the battle raging inside Eddie's head. He didn't want Shannon to join them on their little trip. That much was obvious. However, Christopher was looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes — the ones Eddie had never been able to say no to.

And Shannon must've known that too, because she wisely chose to wait, to let the situation unfold without forcing the issue. She didn't try to persuade Eddie, didn't attempt to guilt trip him or beg for his permission. Instead, she allowed her son's excitement to do the talking for her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eddie sighed and dragged a hand over his face. "Alright," he finally surrendered to the inevitability of the situation. "You can come with us to the Pier." He added.

Christopher's face lit up with a radiant grin as he turned back to his mother. He grasped her hand and Shannon dragged him towards the door. Eddie, meanwhile, grabbed Christopher's two crutches and followed them out the door. Then, Y/n moved, trailing silently behind the trio.

Outside, Eddie locked up the house before heading towards his truck, while Y/n made his way to his own car, parked behind Eddie's. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he should be going with them anymore. Now that Shannon was coming, this felt like an outing that had nothing to do with him. More than that — this is family stuff.

Eddie, Christopher, and Shannon had issues to work through, and Y/n didn't feel like he needed to be a part of it. As much as he loved Eddie and Christopher, It wasn't his business, and he didn't want to intrude on their personal problems or overstep any boundaries he shouldn't.

Just as Eddie was finishing up helping Christopher into the car and stowing his crutches in the back, he noticed that Y/n was standing by his own vehicle, making no move to get into the passenger seat of Eddie's truck. Eddie frowned. "What are you doing, Y/n?" he asked, his voice low and questioning, as he walked over to where Y/n was standing and stopped.

Y/n paused, his hand wrapped around the car door handle. "Well, I just figured that..." he rubbed the back of his neck, choosing his words with care. "Maybe I should sit this one out. This seems like a family thing and I don't want to get in the way of—" Y/n's words died on his lips as Eddie suddenly grabbed his hand, the one wrapped around the car door, and dragged him towards the truck without a word. The sudden movement left him stumbling to keep up with Eddie at first, and he almost lost his balance as Eddie propelled him forward. "—or I could still go with you guys, sure. That works, too."

XXXXX XXXXX

Night had fallen, and accompanied with it were a million stars that lit up the dark sky in an ethereal manner. It was such a beautiful sight that it could put someone to sleep from being so mesmerized by it.

And for Christopher, it had.

He had fallen asleep in the truck on the drive back from the pier, his head resting against the seat. Y/n couldn’t blame him. After a long day of riding roller coasters, playing games, and eating more sugary snacks than any child should probably have, exhaustion had caught up to him.

At least, he had a good day.

But Y/n had a feeling that what truly made this day special for Christopher wasn’t just the fun — it was the fact that both of his parents had been there with him. Despite the tension and the history between them, Eddie and Shannon had put their differences aside for the day to give their son the gift of a perfect day.

When they arrived back at Eddie’s house, Y/n was the one who volunteered to take Christopher to his room, scooping up the sleeping boy into his arms and carrying him inside. It served as an excuse that gave Eddie and Shannon the opportunity to talk alone without them being present.

Carefully, Y/n laid Christopher down on his bed, making sure not to wake him up. He reached out to remove Christopher's cap, lifting it off his head and setting it aside on the nightstand. Next, Y/n slid his glasses off his face, folding them up and placing them beside the cap before tucking the blanket up to his chin. In his sleep, Christopher mumbled something incoherent, fingers curling into the fabric.

With a final glance at Christopher's face, Y/n soundlessly stepped out of the room He left the door, slightly ajar, just in case Christopher woke up in the middle of the night, then made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed two beers from the fridge before heading into the living room, where Eddie now sat alone on the couch. Shannon was gone.

Wordlessly, the h/c-haired male sat down beside Eddie on the couch. He didn’t ask what had been said between them. Not yet. Instead, he extended his hand, offering Eddie one of those beers, and Eddie accepted it with a small nod of thanks. His eyes never left the TV that wasn't even on as he twisted off the cap and took a quick chug, downing half of it.

Y/n took a swig of his beer, letting the cool liquid settle on his tongue before swallowing. "So, what did Shannon say to you?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Now, Y/n's curiosity was piqued, and he patiently waited with bated breath for Eddie to share what had been discussed between him and Shannon. The fact that Shannon had left so soon suggested that it had been brief, and Y/n wondered what could have been talked about in such a short amount of time. At the same time, If Eddie didn't say anything, Y/n wouldn't pry or try to force the issue. Eddie would talk to him about it when he was ready.

"She wants to meet with me on Monday," he answered, "Said she wants us to talk."

Y/n glanced over. "And? What’d you say?"

"I told her 'We’ll see.'"

"That’s a way of saying 'probably not.'"

"Yeah, well…" Eddie took another sip of his beer. "I don’t know if I want to hear whatever she has to say, Y/n." His voice was quieter now, more uncertain and his index finger tapped absently against the bottle. "She didn't just leave me. She left Christopher. The one person who needed her the most. And now, out of nowhere, she wants back in his life? Just like that? After never reaching out to us?" he shook his head. "I don’t know if I can trust that."

Y/n nodded slowly, letting Eddie’s words and his frustration settle between them. He understood, deeply, where Eddie was coming from. How could he not? The pain of Shannon's departure served as a double-edged sword, cutting deep into the hearts of both Eddie and Christopher. The hurt was still raw. She had left Eddie to pick up the pieces and left Christopher with nothing but questions and an empty space where his mother should’ve been. Now, just because she had decided she wanted to come back, Eddie's supposed to just let her? No, It wasn’t that simple.

But still...

The silence between them had stretched out briefly. Then: "You should talk to her." Y/n suggested, his words a gentle nudge in a specific direction for Eddie to reopen a door that had been locked for so long.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he considered Y/n's suggestion. "Should I?"

"Yeah." Y/n’s voice was unwavering and he was sticking to his assertion. "Look, man, I’m not saying you have to forgive Shannon or even put any trust in her. But don’t you think it’s at least worth hearing her out? Not for her, but for Christopher."

Eddie did not respond right away, but he also didn’t immediately argue, which Y/n took as a good sign for him to continue.

"You saw how happy he was today. It’s been a minute since he’s seen his mom, and despite everything, he still loves her. That’s not gonna change." He turned his body slightly to face Eddie fully. "I know you don’t want to talk to her, but ignoring Shannon will not make this situation go away. If she’s serious about being in his life again, then you'll need to lay down some boundaries. Figure out what this means for Christopher. And the only way to do that is to talk to her. Face to face."

Hazel eyes drifted over to meet e/c eyes. "Speaking from experience, aren't you?"

There was no denying it. "You know that I am," the words slipped out Y/n’s mouth, quiet and tentative, his gaze drifting off.

It was a well-known fact that Y/n's childhood had been far from traditional. His mom had left when he was just five years old, abandoning him and his two siblings to be raised by their dad alone. He was forced to play the role of both mother and father to three chaotic boys.

Y/n didn't have a lot of memories of her. But one thing that remained etched in his mind was the overwhelming sense of sadness and hurt that had engulfed him when his father broke the news that she left and would not be coming back.

The concept of abandonment had been beyond his comprehension. All he knew was that his mother — the woman who was supposed to love and care for him, had chosen to leave. The confusion and pain had been suffocating, and Y/n had struggled to make sense of it all. He had wondered, as many children do when it comes to those types of situations, if it was something that he had done wrong.

Had Y/n been naughty? Had he not been good enough? The questions had swirled in his mind, fueling a deep-seated fear that he was somehow to blame for this. He even thought maybe it was his dad's fault or his siblings'. Or maybe they all had done something to drive her away?

Whatever it was, he had been convinced that if she just came home, everything would be okay and that they could work through their issues and be happy again.

Things that are broken could be fixed.

Despite the pain and confusion of his mother's departure, Y/n's love for her had never wavered. He had held onto the hope, the desperate wish, the silent plea, that she would one-night return to the family she had abandoned. Y/n had often found himself lying awake at night, long after his dad had tucked him in and turned out the lights. He would sneak out of bed and make his way to the window, pushing back the curtains to keep watch. He would be ready when she came back.

But she never came, and Y/n's hopes had faded. His desire for reconciliation gave way to a sense of resignation, and eventually, to a deep-seated indifference.

He stopped idly waiting for his mother to come back, stopped wondering what had driven her away, and stopped caring about the situation altogether. Or, that's what he told himself after all this time.

Thinking about it now, Y/n... wasn’t sure if that wound had ever truly healed. But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he didn’t want Christopher to go through the same thing he had. Because, unlike Y/n’s mother, Shannon had come back to reconcile with Christopher. She was trying. That counted for something.

A quiet sigh slipped past Eddie’s lips. He couldn’t deny that Y/n had made a pretty good point, particularly when it came to his son. He noticed how Christopher kept grinning all day, barely letting go of his mom’s hand, talking her ear off like he'd saved every story just for her. That kind of happiness? It mattered to Christopher, and because of that, it mattered to Eddie too. And yet— "What if she leaves again?"

There it is. That was the real fear, wasn’t it? That Shannon would step back into Christopher’s life, make him believe she was staying, and then disappear all over again. That she'd give him hope, only to rip it away. That she’d hurt him. Again. And Eddie would have to deal with the effect that would have on Christopher.

"I don’t know, man," Y/n admitted gently, not pretending to have all the answers. They're not psychics. They can't predict the future, but they can control how they respond to the present. "Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t. Regardless, don’t you think it’s better to hear her out? To see if she’s serious about making things right?"

Eddie looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned Y/n's words over in his mind, weighing them against all his fears. Silence took over, and, when Eddie didn't respond after a minute, Y/n placed a hand on Eddie's knee. "Talk to her. Not for Shannon's sake, but for your sake. And, most importantly, for Christopher’s."

Eddie took a deep breath and held it before exhaling slowly through his nose. Y/n always had a way of cutting through the noise and making hard things sound simple, even when they weren’t far from simple. But maybe that was because this situation was something Y/n understood better than anyone since he lived it, too.

"Yeah. Maybe you're right," he muttered.

A small smirk appeared. "I usually am."

That pulled a tired chuckle out of Eddie, and he shook his head. "Don’t get cocky."

Y/n gave Eddie’s knee a squeeze before leaning back onto the couch. "Too late."

The two fell into another easy silence, and after a moment, Eddie took another sip of his beer. Y/n did the same, and for the first time since Shannon showed up, Eddie was allowing himself to breathe.

And that? That was one step forward.

XXXXX XXXXX

Monday morning had arrived, and Y/n was settled into his cubicle, surrounded by the familiar trappings of his workday routine. He was hunched over a glowing screen with his business activity reports spread out in front of him, half reviewed and half waiting. His half-drunk cup of coffee sat to his left, lukewarm by now, while a notepad filled with bullet points, reminders, and scribbles lay on his right.

With a pen in hand, Y/n's handwriting flowed effortlessly across the page as he added a few more important notes to his list, eyes flicking between the screen and the page until a soft chime from his computer pulled his attention away. A message popped up in the corner of his screen from his boss, James Thompson.

Please come to my office immediately.

Upon reading that, Y/n felt his heartbeat quicken slightly. It wasn't that he was afraid of his boss, or that he had a bad relationship with him. On the contrary, James was a kind and understanding boss, and Y/n had always appreciated his supportive and encouraging nature.

Y/n respected him both personally and professionally. Despite their nice working relationship, Y/n's mind couldn't help but wander to all the possible reasons why he might be summoned to James's office since the message had no context and no pleasantries.

Was it something good, or something bad? Had he done something wrong, or was it just a routine meeting? Or worse, did he screw up the Morgan deal in any way? He hoped not, but the only way to figure it out was to go to James' office and face whatever was waiting for him.

Pushing away from his desk, Y/n stood, adjusted his tie, and smoothed the front of his shirt. He took a steadying breath, then made his way toward the executive offices. His feet came to a sudden stop in front of the familiar gray metal doors and Y/n raised his hand, knocking on it.

There was an immediate: "Come in."

Y/n turned the handle and stepped inside. The curtains were drawn wide, letting in slats of golden morning light. James sat behind his desk, fingers mid-typing until he gazed up to see Y/n enter.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Y/n asked, closing the door behind him with a quiet click since this conversation was meant to be private. His tone was even, though, his nerves were bubbling hotly in his gut.

The dark-skinned man sat up in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he studied Y/n with a neutral expression, one that was impossible for Y/n to read. His silence stretched for just a beat too long, making Y/n shift slightly where he stood. "Have a seat," James finally said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Y/n did as he was told and sat down in the seat, his hands resting on his thighs, and he waited for whatever was coming.

James studied him for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Y/n, do you know why I called you in here?" and here we begin.

Y/n swallowed, the dryness of his mouth making his tongue feel like sandpaper against the roof of it. "I, um… not really, no." I didn’t do anything! He screamed in his head. Well, I don't think I did anything.

James hummed, nodding slightly. "Well, let me ask you this." He leaned forward, "Is there anything you’d like to tell me?"

Y/n’s brain went into overdrive. Shit. That sounded like something a parent would say when they already knew what you did and were just waiting for you to confess. And James's tone implied he already knew something and was just waiting for Y/n to finally spill the beans.

Y/n's mind scrambled to review every possible mistake he could have made.

Had he made a critical error in the financial reports? Or perhaps he had accidentally sent a sensitive email to the wrong client, compromising confidential information? As he mentally reviewed his recent work and interactions, Y/n did not think it was anything that mundane. He was a diligent and competent employee, always careful to double-check his work and follow procedures. He got along well with his coworkers, and his performance reviews had always been glowing, so no write-up or a serious talking-to. So, what could it be, then? Suddenly, it struck him.

The Morgan deal, Y/n thought. He hadn't received any updates on how it went. And, judging by the way James was looking at him, Y/n had this sinking feeling that he might have screwed it up. He needed to be certain, of course, but he couldn't help but think that he had blown it, that he had made a mistake that would have serious consequences for the company.

Y/n cleared his throat — a nervous habit that showed his otherwise unconfidently calm demeanor. "Uh... not that I know of."

James’s eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

Y/n nodded quickly. "Yes. I-I think so..."

The silence that followed was deafening. James just studied him, unreadable, for one… two… three painfully long seconds before breaking into a wide grin. "Well, that’s good," he said casually, "because I was just about to congratulate you, man."

Say what? Y/n blinked rapidly as if trying to clear away the disbelievement and the confusion that had suddenly descended upon him. "Wait... what?" Just moments ago, he had been bracing himself for bad news, for criticism or disappointment, and now... now James was smiling and about to congratulate him? What the hell was happening—? He was very confused.

James chuckled, clearly amused. "Relax, Y/n. I was messing with you." He opened a drawer, pulled out a thick folder, and placed it squarely on the desk. "I called you in here to personally commend you on finalizing the Morgan deal. You handled it better than some of our senior managers would’ve, honestly."

Immediately, Y/n let out a breath he had been holding in. His shoulders, which had been tensed up in anticipation of bad news, sagged slightly, relaxing into a more natural position as the tension seeped out of his body. "Oh," he exhaled a soft laugh. "That's good. You seriously had me thinking I was about to get fired."

James' face broke out into a smirk. "If I ever plan to fire you, I promise I won’t be so dramatic about it." He tapped the file. "The Morgans were impressed with your professionalism and strategic approach. So much so that they officially signed the contract this morning. The deal's closed."

Relief flooded Y/n’s chest, followed by a sense of pride. He did it. He actually did it. Guess all those eleven-hour shifts, six days a week, had paid off in the best way possible.

"Wow…" he breathed. "That’s… incredible."

James nodded. "It is. And because of your hard work, this firm just secured one of the most lucrative partnerships we've had in years." A deliberate pause followed before adding: "Which means, you have more than earned a promotion."

Y/n’s head jerked up. "I’m sorry — what?" His voice might've gotten a tad higher as he grinned at the man behind the desk.

James chuckled at his expression. "You heard me. I’m recommending you for the Hedge Fund Portfolio Manager position."

Y/n blinked twice. "You're serious?" He needed to confirm that he heard James correctly, that this wasn't just some kind of cruel joke or a misunderstanding. The position that James had mentioned was a highly coveted one, a role that Y/n had never imagined he'd be considered for, especially not at this stage in his career.

Y/n was aware that there were others in the company who had been working towards a promotion like this, who had more experience and more seniority, and yet James was offering it to him. This is insane. Y/n hadn't been gunning for this role, but he would gladly accept the offer.

"Completely. You have proven yourself capable of handling high-profile clients and complex negotiations. It’s time you get the title and the paycheck to match."

For a moment, Y/n was left speechless. This was something he had been working towards for almost seven years, since he had first walked through the doors of the company as a secretary, fresh out of college and eager to make his mark.

He had always known that it wouldn't be easy, that he would have to put in the long hours, endure the stress, and pour over endless spreadsheets and financial reports. But he had never thought that it would pay off so soon. He had assumed that it would take a few more years, even a decade before he would be considered for a position like Hedge Fund Portfolio Manager. Guess he had been wrong.

"I… I don’t even know what to say."

"A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t be a bad place to start." James teased, loving his reaction, layers of amusement laced in his voice.

Y/n laughed under his breath. "Thank you, James. Seriously. This means a lot." He couldn't stop smiling. But as he was basking in the glow of his good fortune, a sudden thought occurred to him, and his expression turned curious. "I didn't even know that position was available."

The sentence had a profound effect on James' expression, causing his features to shift from a warm and congratulatory grin to a more serious and introspective look. It had caught Y/n off guard. "That's because the position isn’t available here."

Y/n's face scrunched up in confusion, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"The Hedge Fund position is available at Bridgewater Associates in Austin, Texas."

For a moment, Y/n just... stared. It was like someone had hit pause. His brain stalled, like a car engine sputtering on a cold winter morning. And then, suddenly, his brain kicked back into gear. "Texas?" he said, "As in... not Los Angeles, Texas."

James gave a single nod. "That’s right."

"That’s… that’s pretty far." Like really far.

"It is pretty far." James’s tone softened. "And I know how much you like working here, how much you’ve built a life in L.A. But this is an incredible opportunity, Y/n. Bridgewater is one of the top investment firms in the country. Getting in with them at this level? It’s not something that comes around often. It’s the kind of break people wait decades for. This is a chance to take your career to the next level, to work with the best of the best."

Y/n's mouth opened, then closed, as if he was trying to find the right words to express his thoughts, but they seemed to be stuck in his throat. Then, it opened again like a fish out of water and he was about to speak, but still, no words came out. This was not what he had expected when he walked into James' office today.

A promotion? Yes, that had been a possibility, a welcome surprise, even. A promotion that required relocating to a completely different part of the country? That... was something entirely different.

James must’ve sensed the storm of his thoughts because he continued, "I'm not asking for an answer right this second. I just wanted you to be the first to know. You’ve earned this, Y/n. But I get it. It’s a big decision. Take a little time to think it over." Then came the kicker. "But not too much time. If you accept, they will want you in Austin by the end of next month."

The end of next month. Seven weeks, barely any time at all, to make a decision that would change the course of his life. Regardless, Y/n forced himself to nod to give James some indication that he was taking the offer seriously. "Sounds good."

James slid a folder across the desk. "Here’s everything you need to know about the position, the firm, the salary—" he shot Y/n a knowing look, "—which, by the way, is extremely generous. This also includes relocation support and benefits. Look through it and weigh your options. And whatever you choose, just know I’m in your corner. We’d hate to lose you, but we’d be damn proud to see you move up."

Another nod from Y/n. "I appreciate it."

"Of course." James stood and extended a hand. "No matter what you decide, just know that you’ve done exceptional work here. I know you’ll keep doing good work, whether it’s here or it's across state lines."

Y/n stood and shook James' hand, firm and steady. He picked up the folder and left the office, walking toward the break room with a mind that was spinning way faster than he could keep up with. Gosh.

Austin, Texas.

Y/n could practically feel the weight of this choice pressing on his shoulders. He knew that James was right. This was a rare opportunity for someone like him. Most people would jump at the chance to work for such a prestigious company without hesitation and he felt grateful to have been considered for the role. But on the other hand, accepting the promotion would mean leaving everything behind. His friends, a job he genuinely enjoyed, and the city that had become his home.

Amidst the pros and cons, one thought stood out to Y/n above the rest. Leaving Los Angeles would mean leaving Eddie, the man he had fallen deeply in love with.

Fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Y/n didn’t have the answer. Not yet. But he knew he needed to think. Really think. That’s exactly what he was going to do.

Stepping into the break room, Y/n grabbed his lunch bag from the fridge and made his way outside. The sun was out, the breeze was light, and it felt like a waste to eat indoors on a day like today. Jela, his best friend, was already waiting for Y/n at one of the patio tables, waving him over as soon as she spotted him.

Jela asked what took him so long to arrive here, even though he was only five minutes late, and Y/n gave her a recount of what happened inside James's office.

"You can’t move to Texas, Y/n," Jela exclaimed, immediately rebuking Y/n’s possible future plans to leave California.

"Oh, really?" Y/n snorted, stabbing a fork into his container of mac and cheese. "And why not?" He had to hear this.

"Because you can't leave me here, that's why not!" she took a slow sip of her drink, Sprite — with extra ice — before adding, "Besides, you won't like it in Texas. It's not your scene, Y/n. You're a California boy, through and through. You thrive on the laid-back, sun-kissed vibe of LA, the overpriced coffees, the late-night tacos, and the traffic-related rage we have. Not the cowboy boots and country music of Texas," Jela then drove home her point. "More importantly, there's no me there."

"I’ll come back and visit."

"Nope. Visiting isn't good enough. You're staying here," she declared as if she had the power to make that decision for him. Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at her bossy tone, but he knew that she was only looking out for him. Jela took a bite of her sandwich, chewing quickly and swallowing before continuing. "I doubt your little firefighter would be happy that you moved away," she set her sandwich down on her plate. "Speaking of that, how was your little weekend with him? Did y'all go to the Santa Monica Pier?"

"Yes," the h/c haired male confirmed. "we did. Christopher was there too along with…" a slight pause formed on Y/n’s lips for a second. "along with Eddie’s ex-wife."

All of a sudden, Jela froze, the chip in her hand hovering in mid-air, more than halfway to her mouth. Her eyes flickered over to Y/n, and she blinked. "Eddie's ex-wife is back?" she questioned, and Y/n nodded. "And what is she doing back?"

Y/n's shoulders shrugged in a casual, nonchalant manner, "She wanted to see Christopher and talk to Eddie. If I had to guess, I'd say that she wants to be back in the picture and be a part of their lives."

The brunette's eyes never left Y/n's face as she searched her friend for any signs of unease or discomfort. "And you're just okay with her being back in the picture?"

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?" Y/n’s tone took on a bit of perplexity and confusion.

He didn't understand why Jela was questioning his reaction to Eddie's ex-wife being back in the picture. He didn't feel like he had any reason to be upset or concerned, but Jela appeared to think otherwise. Y/n could tell Jela was trying to imply something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what the implication was.

"Oh, I don't know," and Jela's tone implied that she did know something. "Maybe because ex-wives have a funny way of suddenly stepping back into the picture and messing things up? You don't think there's even a chance that Eddie might... I don't know, start re-evaluating things now that she's back. You're telling me you're not even a little worried that if she sticks around, you'll get pushed aside?"

Y/n's mouth fell open slightly. Her words hit him. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Eddie's ex-wife's return could threaten his own relationship with Eddie. Maybe it was because Y/n knew Eddie loved him. Maybe it was because he trusted that Eddie wouldn’t just drop him like a hot potato if Shannon decided to stick around Eddie and Los Angeles.

Sure, yes, Eddie and Shannon had...well, history. A marriage. A child. They shared something that Y/n could never fully be a part of, no matter how much he loved Christopher or how close he was to him.

But still, he shook his head, pushing that thought aside. “Eddie and I are solid. I’m not worried about that," and he wasn’t. Or at least, he hadn’t been until Jela put the idea into his head. "And Shannon sticking around doesn’t change that."

Jela's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Y/n, her expression skeptical. She didn't seem convinced by his words at all and Y/n could tell that she was still concerned about the potential impact of Shannon's return on his relationship with Eddie. "Mmm," she popped a chip into her mouth. "Just promise me one thing?"

Y/n placed his fork down. "What?"

"Put yourself first. Always. Don’t let yourself be the last priority in your own life. You are worth much more than that."

Y/n didn’t answer immediately. He stared down at his lunch, his appetite suddenly not as strong as a minute ago. But after a long pause, he finally nodded.

"Yeah," he murmured quietly. "I promise."

It was a reasonable promise for Y/n to make, but he had nothing to worry about.

Oh, how he hoped he didn’t.

XXXXX XXXXX

By the time Y/n pulled up to Eddie’s house that evening, the sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting long, golden streaks across the wide sky. He had come here tonight to see how the talk with Eddie and Shannon went. Y/n hoped that it went well and that the two had come to some sort of an agreement.

When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the quiet atmosphere of the house. He didn't see Christopher anywhere, which was a bit unusual, but his attention was quickly drawn to Eddie, who was standing near the couch, eyes glued to his phone. He looked up when he heard the door open.

"Hey, cariño," Eddie greeted with a smile, crossing the living room and planting a kiss on Y/n’s lips. "Didn't expect you."

"I wanted to check in to see how the talk went with you and Shannon," Y/n replied, taking a small step back. "How did it go?"

"It was fine. We had a long talk," Eddie gestured for Y/n to sit with him on the couch. Once they were settled, Eddie continued recounting the conversation with Shannon. "We went over everything. Why she left, why she stayed away, what she wants now. And in the end, I decided that she could co-parent with me. Full Time. Christopher wants her in his life, and, as much as I hate how things went down, I can't deny how happy he was to see her. I can't take that away from him."

Y/n nodded slowly, processing Eddie’s words. "That’s great, Eddie," he said, and he meant it. He was truly happy they had been able to actually have a productive conversation and come to a decision that would benefit Christopher. The kid deserved to have both of his parents in his life, and Y/n was glad that Shannon, for all her past mistakes, was making a conscious effort to be a part of it now. That's more than Y/n ever got from his.

Eddie gave a small smile. "Yeah. Me too."

Still, Y/n could tell that, despite the small smile and the words of agreement, Eddie was carrying some uncertainty. The decision to co-parent with Shannon wasn't going to be an easy one, however, Eddie was trying for Christopher’s sake. That was the only thing that mattered.

All of a sudden, Y/n's gaze drifted from Eddie's eyes to slightly downward, and he took note of what Eddie was wearing. Tan dressy shirt, paired with black pants that accentuated his lean physique, and — Y/n's nose sniffed the air — Eddie was wearing cologne. If Y/n didn't know any better, he would have thought that Eddie was getting ready for a night out on the town, perhaps, even a date. But Y/n was certain they didn't have any plans tonight.

Curiosity hit Y/n. "Going somewhere?"

Eddie cleared his throat, a slight nervousness creeping into his voice. "Yeah, actually. Christopher said that he wanted me and Shannon to take him out to dinner tonight..." and he watched Y/n attentively. "I hope that's okay with you."

"Oh! Oh, uh, yeah — of course that’s okay with me," Y/n hated how high-pitched his voice came out as he reassured Eddie. "I actually have... plans myself," that was a lie. He didn't have any plans with anyone. "Buck and I were actually going out to a bar tonight. Grabbing food, hanging out, having fun... you know, just a guys' night out. I should probably go and get ready."

It was a bullshit excuse, but Eddie didn’t seem to pick up on it. And that gave Y/n the opening to leave. He stood, heading towards the door, but Eddie reached out and gently grabbed his wrist, his fingers wrapping around it in a firm but gentle hold, stopping him from leaving just yet.

"Wait." Eddie stood too. "How was work?"

For the briefest moment, Y/n hesitated in answering the question. He could tell Eddie now — he could tell him, right here and now, that he had been offered a job in Texas and had a big decision to make.

But he looked at Eddie, dressed up for dinner with his son and ex-wife, finally starting to rebuild something important. He realized that he just… couldn’t. Y/n didn’t want to ruin his night. He couldn’t drop that bomb right before Eddie went to dinner. It didn’t feel right. Not tonight. Not when Eddie deserved this moment of peace from having figured out the co-parenting situation, dealing with his ex, and giving Christopher what he wanted.

Therefore, Y/n pasted a smile on his lips, trying to seem nonchalant and carefree. "It was good. I closed the Morgan deal."

Eddie’s face immediately brightened, his mouth curling into a proud smile. "That’s amazing," he said, his grip on Y/n’s wrist loosening as his hand slid down to lace their fingers together. "I knew you would."

Y/n massaged the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… wasn’t easy, but it’s done." And it earned me a job offer in another state, went unsaid. "You should probably get going. Don’t wanna be late for dinner."

"Yeah," Eddie nodded, adjusting his shirt. "You should go get ready, too," he leaned in, pressing another kiss to Y/n’s lips softly. "Have fun tonight. Text me later?"

"Sure," the word slipped out of Y/n's mouth with ease, as he backed towards the door. "I will. I hope you have fun, too."

And with that, he left.

As he drove away, Jela’s question from earlier echoed in his head, looping like a song he couldn’t turn off, a lingering itch he needed to scratch. You’re telling me you’re not even a little worried that if she sticks around, you’ll get pushed aside?

Would Y/n get pushed to the side by Eddie now that Shannon was back into the fold? What if Jela was right? What if Shannon did threaten their relationship?

No, Y/n shook his head. Just because Shannon's back, doesn't mean anything. Eddie loves me. He would never do that.

Too bad the man didn't feel confident at all saying that inside his own head. The reassurance did not land. It felt hollow; forced. And as time went on, Y/n would find himself returning to Jela's question, and his unconfident reassurance, again and again. There were moments, three in particular, that would make Y/n question everything. Moments when he didn’t just feel pushed aside. He was pushed aside.

The first time it happened, Y/n had tried to brush it off as no big deal. It had been a long, exhausting week for the two men, and they had planned a much-needed night in. Just the two of them. Takeout, a fun action movie, and some peace and quiet. Shannon had said she would have Christopher at her apartment that night, therefore. It was the perfect opportunity. Y/n had even stopped by Eddie’s favorite Mexican place after work, grabbing their usual order of soft tacos and quesadillas.

Unfortunately, just as Y/n was pulling up to Eddie's house, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He glanced down to see Eddie's name on the screen.

Eddie: Y/n, I have to reschedule tonight. Shannon wants to take Christopher out for ice cream, and he wants me to come with him. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Y/n stared at the message before letting out a tiny breath. It’s fine, he texted back.

He told himself it’s fine as he went home with enough Mexican food for two. It’s fine as Y/n ate alone in his apartment, scrolling through Netflix with no real interest. It’s fine because, logically, Eddie was doing what a good dad should do, being there for his kid, making sure Christopher got time with both his parents. He could not, in good conscience, be upset with that.

Yet, despite the rationalizations, despite the understanding that Eddie was doing what was best for Christopher, Y/n still felt disappointed and frustrated. He just wanted to spend some time with Eddie. That night had been for just them. And suddenly, it wasn’t. Ever since Shannon had come back into the fold, they hadn't spent any real time with just each other.

The second time it happened, the hurt cut deeper. It was during one of Bobby's famous firehouse gatherings, a monthly tradition that brought the 118 together to unwind, share some good food, and enjoy each other's company in a more relaxed setting. Family and friends were always invited. Y/n, himself, had been to a few of these gatherings before. It was something he always looked forward to.

So, when Buck mentioned the upcoming firehouse gathering, Y/n had assumed that he and Eddie would attend together, just like they had done previously. It was a natural assumption, given their history and the fact that, well, they were dating. Except, two days before the event, Eddie casually mentioned that he was bringing Shannon along with Y/n and Christopher.

"She's been getting along with Buck and Hen really well," Eddie didn't even look up from his phone as he spoke. "Figured it’d be good for her to meet my entire team."

Y/n had nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. Makes sense." It did not make any sense. He had felt a pang of disappointment and hurt, but he didn't want to show it, didn't want to give Eddie a reason to think he was being jealous or unreasonably possessive over him. Stop.

And that's how Y/n ended up walking into the gathering alone that day. It was a weird, disorienting sensation like he was observing the scene from outside his body. Eddie was there, of course, but he was nowhere to be found, at least not in the way that Y/n was used to. Instead of being together, sharing drinks, talking with the team, stealing touches when no one was looking, and laughing together, Eddie... he was glued to Shannon's side.

The entire time.

Y/n was annoyed.

Because, suddenly, Shannon was the one laughing at his jokes. She was the one sitting next to him at the table. She was the one who Eddie turned to when someone casually mentioned their son.

She had, seamlessly, inserted herself into their little world, and Mr. Diaz was more than happy to accommodate her. Well, he supposed it was her world, too.

And Y/n? He felt invisible.

But what made Y/n's annoyance spike to a whole new level was when he was making some small talk with Bobby and Athena. His eyes suddenly drifted over to Eddie and Shannon, Eddie had his hand on Shannon's back, with his fingers gently resting on the curve of her spine, and Shannon was leaning into his side.

Y/n frowned. What the hell was that? It’s fine, he had to tell himself that yet again.

But this time, it didn’t feel fine.

The third time, though? That was the one that broke something inside of Y/n. He had known for months that his dad and stepmom were planning something big for his birthday. He didn't want a huge party. Just a small gathering, something low-key, but they had insisted. Thirty is a milestone, his father had said. You only turn it once, son. So, his dad rented out an upscale rooftop venue in downtown LA, with a breathtaking view of the city.

Fancy lights, good food, and a ridiculous guest list. Okay. Fine. He could deal with the whole "big party" thing. It wasn't his ideal way to celebrate his birthday, but if it made his dad and stepmom happy, he was willing to go along with it. But the one thing he did want? Eddie there. So, he had told him weeks in advance and made sure he put it in his calendar. Y/n had even reminded Eddie multiple times.

Eddie had promised he'd be there.

And yet. As Y/n stood in the middle of an expensive rooftop venue, surrounded by friends, family, coworkers, and unfamiliar faces, Eddie was nowhere to be found.

At first, he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe something came up with Christopher. Maybe he was running late or had an emergency. Y/n sent a quick text.

Hey, everything okay?

No reply.

Minutes turned into an hour. Then two. Y/n checked his phone — no messages. He tried calling — no answer. Voicemail.

Not even a simple Happy Birthday. The thought echoed in Y/n's mind like a cruel joke, and it hurt more than he expected. Even if Eddie couldn’t make it, he should have remembered. Y/n’s older brother had flown in from Maryland to celebrate. And Eddie, who lived in the same state, couldn't even be bothered to send a text.

The party carried on, but a quiet sort of numbness settled into Y/n’s bones as went through the motions. He accepted hugs and well-wishes from his friends and family, thanked them for their gifts and kind words, smiled when he needed to, laughed when someone made a joke, posed for pictures, and even danced to the music. But all he could think about was the fact that Eddie wasn’t there.

After Y/n blew out his candles and the party picked back up, Y/n, surprisingly, managed to sneak out of his own party without anyone knowing. He wanted to check on Eddie. If something had come up to where he couldn’t make it, then Y/n could accept that. He just needed to see for himself if that was the case.

Inserting a key into the lock, Y/n twisted it to the right and pushed the door open, stepping inside. Relief washed over him first because Eddie was home. He was safe. He looked perfectly fine. Oh, thank God. And then, just as quickly, that relief turned into something sharp and painful.

Shannon was with Eddie on the couch. And Eddie was kissing her. On the lips.

"…Wow," he breathed. It came out small, nearly silent, but enough for them to hear.

The soft whisper startled them apart like they had been caught in a guilty act. Eddie jerked back so fast like he’d been burned. His eyes snapped to Y/n, "Y/n—"

Y/n's hand shot up, palm facing Eddie as if to ward off any further explanation or apology. "Don't," he made sure to keep his voice calm, even, somehow, despite wanting to scream and cry. "Just don’t."

He didn't want to hear the lies, the half-truths, or the rationalizations that would only serve to further hurt and betray him. Y/n didn't want to talk to Eddie at all. He ran out of the house, not stopping until he reached his car, where he flung open the door and slid into the driver's seat. Y/n could hear Eddie's voice, calling out to him, pleading with him to stop, to talk, to listen. But Y/n was beyond listening. He started the car and quickly drove away.

When Y/n pulled into his apartment complex and turned off the engine, Y/n allowed himself to feel. The scream that tore out of his throat was anguished and raw and spoke of how he was currently feeling. He let it rip, allowing himself to release all of that pain and hurt that had been building up inside him for weeks.

Tears fell down his face as he cried, racking sobs shaking his entire body. God, he felt like he was falling apart like his world was crumbling around him. Y/n slammed his fist into the steering wheel. Again and again, until his knuckles hurt.

Eddie. His Eddie. The man he loved with every fiber of his being. The man he had trusted with his heart, secrets, and fears. This same man had cheated on him with his ex-wife. Eddie forgot his birthday to be with Shannon. Y/n had spent all night making excuses for him. Had bent over backward convincing himself there had to be a good reason Eddie didn't come. As it turned out, the only reason Eddie hadn’t shown up… was because he was with her. Y/n felt like an idiot. He was one.

And he felt like he was going to be sick.

His phone buzzed in the passenger seat, jolting him out of his current state. Y/n glanced at it and wasn’t surprised to see Eddie’s name flash across the screen. Y/n stared at it before pressing the decline button. Not now. He put his phone on silent mode, silencing the ringing and the notifications before putting it face down on the seat. He didn't want to talk to him.

He didn’t give up, though. For days, Eddie made a concerted effort to reach out to Y/n, to apologize and explain and make amends for his betrayal. He called Y/n's phone, but it went unanswered. He sent text message after text message, but Y/n never responded to them. Eddie even left him voicemails, but they went unacknowledged. He even showed up at Y/n's apartment, hoping to catch him off guard and force a conversation. But Y/n avoided him at all costs. He made sure to leave for work early and come home late to avoid any chance encounters with him.

It wasn't until the hazel-eyed firefighter showed up at Y/n's workplace, bursting into an important meeting and causing a scene, that Y/n finally felt compelled to confront him. The interruption was embarrassing, to say the least, and Y/n's colleagues were shocked by the sudden appearance of his estranged partner. Eddie's timing couldn't have been worse, and Y/n's professional reputation was at risk of being tarnished by the drama that was unfolding. When Eddie threatened to return the next day, and the day after that, until Y/n agreed to talk to him, Y/n decided to give Eddie that conversation.

Which was how he found himself sitting at the kitchen table of his apartment, with Eddie choosing to sit next to him. Buck was out, leaving the two of them alone. Y/n had agreed to talk to Eddie, but he hadn't agreed to make it easy for him. He avoided eye contact, refusing to meet Eddie's gaze, instead, focusing on the lines and creases on his own hands.

Eddie was the one to break the silence.

"How have you been?"

How has he been? Was Eddie serious right now? That’s what he was leading with? Y/n’s jaw clenched and he finally looked up at him. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked flatly, cutting straight through the small talk. He didn't even bother answering Eddie's question.

Eddie shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "I... I wanted to apologize to you."

Y/n didn’t say anything. He just stared at him, waiting for more words to spill out.

Eddie swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admitted, "I should have been at your birthday. I should have at least called. There’s no excuse for that. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have—" He cut himself off, shutting his eyes for a brief second as if he couldn't bear to say the words out loud before exhaling heavily. "I shouldn’t have done what I did with Shannon that night."

There it was, verbally spoken. The thing Y/n had been replaying in his head on a loop since that night. Y/n inhaled slowly, holding his breath for a moment before letting it go. Then, softly, he asked, "Did Shannon kiss you… or did you kiss her?"

He wanted to know if Eddie had been a willing participant or if Shannon was the one who initiated the act. The distinction may seem insignificant, but to Y/n, it was everything. It was the difference between a moment of weakness and a deliberate choice, between a mistake and a betrayal.

Eddie’s lips parted slightly, and Y/n could see the shame and guilt flicker across his features before he even answered.

"I kissed her."

Y/n felt a piece of his heart break from the admission, but he didn’t let his face betray his feelings. Not visibly or audibly. He had been hoping, desperately hoping, that Eddie would voice something else. That he would claim it was all a mistake, that Shannon had kissed him and he was going to push her away. But no, Eddie had kissed her. He had made a choice, a deliberate choice to betray Y/n's trust and hurt him in the worst possible way.

Don't do it. Don't you dare let him see you cry! He screamed silently to himself. He would not give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing him break down, of seeing him vulnerable and weak. Instead, he gave a slow, numb nod, letting the words settle between them. Let it sting. And then, he asked the question that had been eating away at him ever since that fateful night.

"Why?"

Eddie's hands rose to his face, rubbing over his eyes and cheeks as if trying to scrub away the exhaustion and guilt that marred his countenance. "I don’t know," he muttered at first. But when Y/n shot him a look that said he was full of shit, he sighed. "That’s not true. I do know."

"I've been..." he paused, his eyes darting around the kitchen, seemingly searching for the right words, the right explanation. His gaze finally settled back on Y/n, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "...spending so much time with Shannon these days. Mostly because Christopher wanted us to. And it's been... just... easy."

Y/n felt his throat tighten, but he did not say anything. He just let Eddie talk freely.

Eddie exhaled. "She’s different now. More present. More committed to being there for Christopher. And for the first time in forever, we felt like…" his voice trailed off before he finally admitted, "Like a family. And I liked it. A lot. It made me... happy."

The truth was finally out, laid bare and unvarnished. Y/n had been too afraid to acknowledge it, too afraid to confront the possibility that Eddie's heart still belonged to someone else. But now, it was impossible to deny. Eddie still had feelings for Shannon, feelings that went beyond mere co-parenting or friendship. And Shannon, well, she clearly still had feelings for him, too. That was evident.

"You know, I thought we were good," Y/n said quietly. "I thought we were solid."

"We were," Eddie replied quickly. "We are."

The sound that escaped Y/n's lips was a quiet, bitter laugh, a harsh and mirthless thing that seemed to cut through the air like a knife. "No, no, we're not. You don’t forget your boyfriend’s birthday if things are solid. You wouldn't have ignored my calls, left me hanging and wondering if everything was alright with you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have kissed her."

Eddie didn't argue. He couldn't.

"I get it, though," Y/n continued softly. "She’s Christopher’s mom. You two have history. After everything, you want that family unit and to give your son what he needs. And that’s okay." His lips pressed together. "I can’t be in the middle of that."

"Y/n—" Eddie’s voice cracked.

"We can’t be together," Y/n said, even as it broke him to say it. "Not after this. Not after you kissed Shannon and made me feel neglected. You still love her. I see it."

Eddie's shoulders sagged. "It wasn't—" he started, but then stopped himself, as if realizing that any excuse or justification would be useless. The words died on his lips, and he was left with only the truth. "I do love you, Y/n. That hasn't changed."

Y/n looked away, blinking hard before meeting his eyes again. “Maybe not," he honestly didn’t know if he believed Eddie loved him. "But that's not enough, is it?"

Eddie looked like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to fight for them. But the problem was, Y/n could see the truth for what it was now, and he deserved to be someone's first choice, not their second. He deserved to be loved with a love that was whole and complete, not a love that was fragmented and divided between him and someone else. He's worth more.

Y/n stood up, swallowing past the ache in his throat. "I think that you should go."

Eddie hesitated, his eyes searching Y/n’s face as if looking for some sign that he could fix this. But Y/n didn’t give him one. After a long pause, Eddie slowly stood, too. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end, all he said was:

"I’m sorry."

Y/n nodded once. "Me too."

Eddie lingered for a second longer before turning and walking toward the door. The moment it closed behind him, Y/n immediately headed up to his room. The closing of the door was like a final note to a song he hadn’t wanted to end. His e/c eyes landed on the photo sitting neatly in its frame on the bedside table.

He and Eddie.

It was one of Y/n's favorite memories. A candid shot of them at the carnival, taken by Christopher. The two of them were laughing as they stood in front of the Ferris wheel. Eddie’s arm was slung around his shoulders, pulling him close. Y/n remembered exactly how he had felt in that moment — happy, safe, and loved.

His fingers trembled as they reached for the frame, gripping it tightly as he sank onto the edge of the bed. His eyes clung to Eddie’s smile, so familiar, so beautiful.

And then — finally — he broke.

Y/n had tried to hold them back, tried to swallow down the lump that had been forming in his throat, but it was useless. The first tear fell, hitting the glass of the frame with a muted sound, like a single drop of rain landing on a still pond. And then another tear fell, and another. Y/n didn't try to stop them, didn't try to wipe them away. He just let them fall, freely and unashamedly, as he let go of all his inhibitions and allowed himself to feel the full weight of his painful emotions.

"Why wasn’t I ever enough?"

The question slipped from his lips in a whisper, cracked and broken, lost in the stillness of the room, barely audible even to himself. Why wasn’t he ever enough for someone to choose him?

He wasn’t enough for his mother to stay. He wasn’t enough for Brant to stay loyal. Now, he wasn’t enough for Eddie to not do the one thing that would shatter him.

A sob tore its way out of his throat, raw and painful. All of this is too much. The betrayal, the loneliness, the heartache — it collapsed on top of him like a wave crashing over someone who'd already stopped swimming. He had given Eddie everything. His love. His trust. His whole heart. Somehow, that still wasn’t enough.

"I just wanted to be loved."

A plea to no one. The universe? Maybe. That’s all he ever wanted. Not something conditional. Not something temporary. Just love. Someone who wouldn’t forget he existed. Someone who wouldn’t look at him and think of him as replaceable. Someone who wouldn’t see him as second place. Someone who would stay.

But maybe that was too much to ask for. Maybe he was destined to be almost enough. Close, but not quite. Worth holding, but not worth keeping.

He wanted to hate Eddie, to direct all his anger and hurt towards the person who had caused him pain. He wanted to hate Shannon, too, to blame her for being the surprising yet unsurprising catalyst that set off the chain of events that led to his heartbreak. He wanted to hate his mom, to lash out at her for being the first one to make him feel like he wasn't enough. But all he felt was tired. So damn tired of being almost enough. So goddamn tired of being the one people moved on from.

His fingers tightened around the frame, and for a brief moment, he considered throwing it. Smashing it. Destroying it the same way Eddie had destroyed both him and their relationship. But he didn’t.

Instead, he set the picture face-down on the small table. He couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. Then, he reached up and unclasped the silver necklace Eddie had given him: Siempre contigo. This was a lie. He yanked it off and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor with a muted thud. Eddie lied.

Then, Y/n's eyes wandered to the desk, where the folder James had given him lay waiting. Bridgewater Associates — Austin, TX, the cover read. He picked it up and opened the file, flipping through the pages. The job details, the salary, the benefits, and the important information.

Maybe this new job in Texas wasn’t just an opportunity. Maybe it was an escape.

They say time flies when you’re having fun, but when you’re heartbroken, time seems to stop altogether, trapping you in the ache of yesterday with no escape.

XXXXX XXXXX

#911 x reader #911 show #911 imagine #911 fanfic #911 x male reader #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x male reader #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz oneshot #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x you #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

208 notes · View notes