Archive of Our Own ^beta

TEXAS STATE LINE
2 MILES

It isn't the first time Eddie's seen the sign, not even the first time in the past decade.

But each time he spots it approaching, — at first blurred from motion and distance, then flickering once the last rays of sunlight strikes it, and finally coming into full focus —, he feels that same lightness float his bones. Like, finally, he can relax. Finally, he can let the anxieties of his time in El Paso dissipate in the smoke behind him.

He makes the journey alone unlike last time, with Christopher laid across the back seat and snoring quietly enough for the hums of the engine to drown it out and for Eddie to sneak a glance every once in a while, in a sudden fear that he's more than simply sleeping. It's a fear Eddie carries with himself since his son's birth. Sometimes babies are so still, they appear nearly lifeless.

Christopher's already in LA, probably soon heading to sleep in his old, untouched room. Eddie'd checked in with him before leaving, and he seemed to be getting bored of his movie night with Buck. Apparently, he's grown out of binging Buck's favorite superhero movies, as they all have a predictable plot!

Buck, meanwhile, has flooded Eddie's notifications with pictures of a smaller Chris, accompanied with paragraphs of yearning for the times when he still thought Buck was cool. All in good humor, of course. Eddie knows Buck is just as proud of the young man Christopher is turning into, as he is.

Though, still. Eddie wishes his son didn't have to grow up so quickly.

Growing up himself, he'd thought, if he were ever to have children, he would let them be children for as long as possible. He never wanted to put Christopher through what his parents had put him through.

But sometimes we all make our parents' mistakes.

Summer of 2009.

“You cheated, Ed.”

“I didn’t cheat. How would I even cheat?”

“I don’t know how. What I know is that you did.” 

“I did not cheat.”

“You did. I— I propose a rematch!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, don’t use God’s name in vain. Second Commandment.”

“I said Jesus, not God. Besides, you’re one to talk. You start half your sentences with, Oh my God.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t!”

“Do.”

“Oh my God, I do not!”

“Point taken.”

“Screw you, Ed. You’re such an ass.”

It’s a light dab. Diego dabs at Eddie more than he doesn’t. It’s a sort of friendship where they tease each other relentlessly, but it feels good. Eddie’s never laughed with anyone like he laughs with Diego. No one’s ever made his stomach flutter like that. No one’s—

It’s at that moment that Diego pulls two more cans of beer out of the ice chest.

“We can’t,” Eddie tells him. “One beer limit on shift, remember?”

Diego groans, defeated, placing the cans back inside and shutting the glass lid. 

“Okay, but once we’re done here? I’m not just letting you off the hook.”

Eddie understands why Diego’s so pissed about losing at Shotgun. He never has with Eddie for his competitor before, which is probably why he’s accusing him of being a cheater now. But the thing is, Eddie’s been secretly practicing with Adriana’s soda cans, and he’s getting pretty damn good.

He leans against the freezer of ice cream and looks around the lake. It’s not as busy as it tends to be around three o’clock, but a fair share of loungers have gathered to melt under the scorching sun. Eddie thanks his boss that at least he and Diego get to hide under a beach umbrella while they’re handing out food and drinks. 

Or he would, if his boss weren’t such a prick.

The cash isn’t great, obviously, but if Eddie works enough hours, he can save plenty to go to Projekt Revolution in Dallas at the end of the summer. The chance of getting to see Linkin Park in what is probably their prime is too great of an opportunity to pass up by openly complaining and getting axed.

“Watch out,” Diego exhales suddenly, his nose scrunched in disgust. Eddie can already tell what’s coming before he follows up with, “Hudson Clones, nine o’clock.”

The Hudson Clones aren’t actually sisters, contrary to popular belief. The leader of their group, Stella Hudson, is the only daughter of some rich oil folk in El Paso, and she roams the town with her three carbon-copies at her side like she owns it. Her pawns Camila, Rikki, and Anna are the puppy type, and where there is one, there are usually the other three.

Except today, they are joined by a fifth girl.

A girl who looks nothing like the Hudson Clones, and tiptoes beside them awkwardly.

She’s wearing a long yellow dress and shoes unfit for the sharp gravel of the beach. Her hair roams free, mostly dark but with bleached streaks of blonde, similar to the occasional goth at school. She isn’t just pretty, like people believe the Hudson Clones to be.

She’s beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

And she’s approaching him.

Eddie feels Diego stiffen beside him as all five of them reach the stand.

“Oh,” breathes out Stella, disgruntled as she takes in Diego. “It’s you again.”

Eddie knows Diego is fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I work here. Of course it’s me,” he manages, without too much revulsion.

Diego and Stella’s hostility towards each other is nothing new. Stella used to date Diego’s older brother, but they had a nasty breakup, and ever since, she’s been giving Diego the stink eye for merely resembling her ex. After a while, the resentment became reciprocated.

Stella throws her locks back, honing in on Eddie instead and batting her eyelashes at him. “Me and the girls will have four Strawberry Bursts. Take the cans from the bottom of the chest because—”

“—they’re the only ones cool enough for your liking,” Eddie finishes for her, already having memorized her script. “Got it. Anything else?”

Stella turns to the new girl, watching the exchange curiously. “What do you want, Shan?”

The brunette winces. “It’s Shannon.”

Shannon. Eddie stores the name on a special shelf in his mind.

Stella’s eyes widen at being corrected. Not even teachers at their school dare to do so — this Shannon’s got some guts. 

Regardless, she regains her composure and smiles wickedly at the girl. 

“I know, but Shannon’s b-o-r-i-n-g. It’s like a grandma name. I prefer Shan.”

This time around, Shannon rolls her eyes. 

At Stella. 

No one rolls their eyes at Stella.

“I don’t. Just call me by my name.”

Eddie can’t help it — he lets out a snicker. All four of the Hudson Clones glare at him.

Shannon turns to Eddie, a smirk of her own adorning her freckled, dimpled cheeks. Her smile is blinding, kind of like staring straight at the sun without protective gear. Her tone is much lighter when she requests, “I’ll have a beer, please.”

All four of the Hudson Clones gasp.

“A beer?” asks Stella, scrunching her nose. “But that’s so— Boyish.”

Shannon shrugs. “I like a bit of beer, so I’m gonna have a beer. Can I get one?”

“Do you have your ID?” Eddie asks her, deadpan. Shannon pales a little, so he quickly carries on. “I’m just kidding. No one at the lake cares. Obviously, I work at this stand and I’m only seventeen. There’s not much law my boss abides by, as long as no one gets drunk or parties.”

God, why is he so awkward?

“Oh,” Shannon manages. “Well, then can I—?”

“Here you go,” says Eddie, fishing a can out of the bottom of the ice chest and handing it over. Their fingers briefly brush, Shannon’s skin like fire against his fridge-cooled fingers.

Stella pays for all of them, flashes a smile at Eddie, ignores Diego altogether, and off they go to their favorite spot — a picnic table that they carved their names into a while ago and no one’s dared to claim since.

“I hate her,” Diego says as soon as Stella’s out of earshot. He cracks open a can of Sprite, squeezing it like his life depends on it. “I hope the new girl shows Stella her place. She seems cool. Or, cooler than the rest of them. What do you think, Ed?”

Eddie’s not thinking anything, can barely hear his friend. He’s too busy staring at the back of Shannon’s head, wondering what face she’s making as Stella and the rest undoubtedly gossip about the two of them. Did Shannon find him cool? Was the joke too stupid?

Or did Shannon not care at all?

It’s later, with the sun much lower on the horizon, that Eddie and Diego wrap up for the day. The Hudson Clones plus Shannon are still chatting at the table, but they’re starting to flag a little from hours spent under the sun. Shannon particularly looks bored out of her mind as she gazes instead at the approaching sunset, rather than her supposed friends.

“So,” Diego starts, knocking his shoulder into Eddie’s. “Rematch?”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. He watches as Shannon stands up and excuses herself, clutching the strap of her small beach bag tightly as she tiptoes down to the shore, her feet struggling through the gravelly beach.

“Just a minute,” he tells Diego and, without further hesitation, trails after Shannon.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not one to approach girls, usually avoids them actually. Half the time at baseball practice, he’s fighting off the attention of the girls in the stands, cheering him on. Eddie’s not a womanizer —, let’s leave it at that.

But there’s…something about Shannon that pulls him in like a magnet.

Shannon’s barefoot now, ankles-deep to test the water. Eddie is prone to move without sound, spooks people when announcing his presence, but as he greets her with a simple hi, Shannon doesn’t even twitch.

She glances at him, for the briefest of moments, before looking back at the lake.

“Hi,” she greets back. “You want something?”

“Just wondering,” says Eddie, and leaves it at that.

Shannon kicks a stone into the lake. “Okay? About what?”

Eddie’s not the greatest communicator. With girls, or anyone. But he tries.

“Just— What are you doing with them? Stella and the others. They’re kind of—”

“—stuck-up? ignorant? straight-up bullies?” Shannon finishes for him. And, woah. Eddie wanted to go for something like, not your crowd, just in case she did like them. But way to steal words out of his mind. “Oh, I won’t hang out with them again. My mom just wanted me to make some friends who go to my new school, and she knew Rikki’s mom from work. I’m starting at Cathedral in September and I didn’t want to go in completely blindsided, so I agreed to meet them today.”

“I go to Cathedral,” says Eddie, perhaps a little too quickly.

Shannon finally spares him a look longer than a glance, taking him in. Eddie feels bashful about the small rips in his jorts — and the fact that he’s wearing jorts in the first place —, and he’s pretty sure there’s a paint stain on his t-shirt.

“Oh? What’s it like there? Do they try to brainwash you?”

Eddie laughs. “Only if you let them. It’s— Nice, mostly. Everyone is nice.”

Shannon hums. “Even if you’re different?”

Eddie doesn’t answer for long enough that Shannon comes to the conclusion herself.

“I was different at my old school,” she confesses quietly. “Not girly enough. Or too girly, if I decided to switch up my act to try and fit in. In the end, no matter what I did, I was still the outsider with bleached streaks and rock bands playing on my headphones. Eventually, I just stopped trying.”

“Is that why you’re switching schools?” asks Eddie, pocketing his hands.

Something dark washes over Shannon’s face but it's gone so quickly, Eddie doesn't have the mind to pry about it.

“Tell me more about Cathedral. Is it true they hand out milk to you like in primary?” she asks curiously, deflecting from Eddie’s question so masterfully that he forgets about it altogether.

“Okay, it’s a whole thing—” starts Eddie, and doesn't stop talking. It’s like a faucet has broken open and he’s telling Shannon stories from school, awkward ones, embarrassing ones, ones funny enough that Shannon lets out this endearing snort that wrinkles her nose. 

Eventually, they sit down on the stones, using Eddie’s jacket to soften their seats. They talk for hours, until the sun sets completely and the lake is engulfed in moonlight and the fair few bonfires people are starting up on the beach.

Shannon’s phone inevitably rings, disrupting them from bluetoothing songs they like to each other.

“It’s my mom,” she tells him, a bit mournful. “I should probably head home.”

“Do you need a ride?” Eddie offers. “My car’s not far.”

“It’s okay,” says Shannon, offering him a small smile in turn. “I live ten minutes away. But,” she pauses, trapping her lip between her teeth. “You could walk me home?”

Eddie’s nodding before she can finish, not wanting the night to end just yet. He notices that Shannon’s shivering a little and hands his jacket over, trying not to wince when she hesitates about accepting it. Eventually though, she hugs it to her chest and they start walking.

The walk is entirely quiet. Not an awkward quiet, but rather… A loud one. Like something’s not being said, some elephant trailing after them in the dim street. It’s only when they reach Shannon’s porch and the light flickers on that she turns to him.

“You should know, Eddie,” says Shannon. Whispers it. Eddie watches her throat bob as she swallows past a lump. Her neck’s been kissed by the sun, a slight tan forming. But he gets distracted from it soon enough, when she follows up with—

“It’s dangerous to fall in love with me.”

Eddie stills. His mouth falls agape and he’s trying to pick his jaw from the ground, but—

“I’m— I’m not—”

“Relax. I'm simply giving you a heads up,” she says, her tone much lighter now. “Good night.”

Eddie watches as Shannon trots the final steps up to her door and fishes a key from under a pot of begonias. His tía Pepa has taught him all about the Language of Flowers and he thinks to himself, caution, consideration, good communication, before he manages a good night back.

That night, he falls into bed, ignoring the text from Diego accusing Eddie of blowing off his best friend for a girl, and doesn’t get much sleep.

present.

Eddie learns his lesson from the journey to El Paso from LA — travel mostly in the nighttime.

The desert heat is almost bearable then. Sweat still tickles the back of his neck, but it's cooled by the half-working AC of the moving van.

Eddie stops at a gas station two hours in, entirely deserted, bar some trucks in the parking lot, through the windshields of which he sees tired, sleeping faces. Inside the station a young cashier is drifting off with the radio on in the background, only rousing when the chimes inform him of Eddie's presence.

He doesn't make a noise, except for, "That's it?", when Eddie hands over an energy bar and bottled water, the kind Buck favors lately. Evidently, the guy's pretty pissed about Eddie interrupting his nap.

"Tank's full, sorry," he apologizes, tapping his card and picking up his purchases before wishing the cashier a good night, at which he grumbles and goes back to sleep.

Eddie sits in the driver's seat of the van, inhaling the snack like he hadn't just dined at his Abuela's mere hours ago. She'd made enough of chili con carne for leftovers to last him all meals of the trip, but he wants to save some for the two Abuela-hungry mouths at home. Especially Buck's, as he's been missing out on her food far more than Christopher lately.

Eddie's phone buzzes with a familiar notification — a sound reserved for one person only.

Speak of the devil.

Buck: how far along are you?

Eddie snickers to himself at the opportunity.

Eddie: Hm, baby could pop any day now.

He waits only a few seconds before Buck replies.

Buck: I'm serious.

Buck: getting worried about you doing this trip on almost no sleep

Eddie's heartbeat quickens at that. Worried. People he left behind in El Paso rarely feel that emotion toward him, other than when calling him out on his parenting choices.

Eddie: I took a long nap. I'm fine and the road's pretty much empty.

Buck: watch out for serial killers! if you see anything suspicious, don't slow down.

Eddie: I know the drill. Go to sleep.

He puts his phone back in the holder and navigates to Google Maps, when a text pops up once more.

Buck: send me updates. put on that oldies station I told you about so you don't fall asleep.

Buck: good night.

Eddie: Will do. Good night.

Moments later, You Shook Me All Night Long is sounding through the speakers at full blast.

Fall of 2009.

“Did you see her?”

“Who is she?”

“I don't know, but who she's going to be, is my next girlfriend."

"Dream on, Ricky."

Shannon is, unsurprisingly, the talk of the whole school. It's not often someone transfers to Cathedral for the Senior year. Students at Cathedral High come from Cathedral Middle and so on. Shannon being nice on the eyes is just extra fuel for her special-ness.

Eddie throws his sweatied shirt into his locker, and as it slams shut, he accidentally announces his presence to the rest of the half-dressed baseball players in the locker room.

"Hey, Eddie-man," calls out Francis, the pitcher and a general — although secret — annoyance upon Eddie. "Didn't I see you hanging around the lake with her? Say, is she taken already?"

Eddie blushes a bright pink. He wishes he still had his locker door to hide behind.

Ricky, Francis' best friend and right-fielder, strains his neck behind his shoulder to arch a brow at Eddie. His pale skin nearly shines in the low-lit locker room.

"So?" Ricky prods, when Eddie doesn't break his silence. "She your girl?"

Eddie blinks, lowering his gaze from the bare expanse of Ricky's chest. "N-no."

"No or not yet?" Ricky carries on his questioning.

"She's just a friend!" Eddie announces defensively. "I-I mean, we hung out at the lake for most of the summer. She likes the same kinda music as me. She's cool. That's— That's it."

He doesn't tell them that Shannon isn't interested in sports or their players to a point that she openly gags whenever Eddie even mentions baseball. She's more into his previous passage of time, the ballroom dancing. Eddie reminds her at every opportunity that dance is a sport.

Ricky and Francis meet each other's gaze, a small smirk forming at the corners of their mouths.

"What does she like?" Ricky asks Eddie. "Give me a rundown."

"What for?"

Ricky snorts. "To know what to say to get her to go out with me, obviously."

The rest of the baseball team burst into laughter. It's been a ticking time bomb regardless, but it's what makes Eddie snap. He sticks out his chest and trembles out, "If you like her so much, why don't you ask her yourself?" before picking up his bag and sprinting out of the locker room, leaving it behind suddenly engulfed in silence.

Eddie's still shaking by the time he makes it to Shannon's house that afternoon.

He doesn't know what came over him. He's not usually one to spit out remarks as such, or lose his temper. He hates conflict, but now he's made things tense between himself and Ricky. All he wants right now is for someone to reassure him that he's not crazy.

That someone being Shannon, by now one of his most treasured friends.

It all started that night by the lake. Shannon came by the drink stand the next afternoon to order a peach soda and sipped it slowly on the dock, with her MP3 player firm in her grip, until Eddie and Diego wrapped up for the day. Diego invited him to hang out, but once more, Eddie headed over to Shannon. He'd been up half the night thinking about what she'd said to him, and wanted to clear the air.

Silently, he sat beside Shannon on the dock, joining her in hovering her legs over the edge to the rhythm of the song playing over her earbuds. Shannon waited until the song was finished to fish them out of her ears and look over at Eddie, watching her intently as he thought over what he'd prepared to say.

"It's good. Leave Out All The Rest is my favorite," she said before he could start. It took Eddie a moment to realize that she'd been talking about Linkin Park's latest album, which he bluetoothed to her the previous evening. "I'd like to think, that when my time on Earth is over, people will remember me for the good that I did, rather than my wrongdoings."

Eddie forgot his script entirely. He opened and shut his mouth several times, before finally landing on, "Wrongdoings?"

Shannon shrugged. "Everybody makes mistakes. It's in the human nature. What makes you good or evil is if you take the time to learn from them."

Eddie sat with it for a moment, unsure how to answer. He'd made mistakes, too, but it'd never been so straightforward as making a mistake and learning from it for him. It'd been more like, don't do it again, rather than approach it differently.

"I freaked you out last night," Shannon carried on. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. I'm not looking for anything, Eddie. I just— Well, I suppose I am looking for a friend. But nothing more than that. You get me?"

Relief washed over Eddie, giving him a kick. He clumsily pulled out his hand and offered it to Shannon. "Friends. Nothing more."

She looked down at his hand, slightly trembling, and accepted the shake.

"Friends."

And thus their summer of evenings by the lake kicked off. Eddie learned as much about Shannon as she was willing to offer him, except for the answers of the questions about her transfer to Cathedral — she kept finding ways to steer the topic away from that.

They learned each other's favorite pizza toppings, which animals scare them and which they'd like as pets, fought over their go-to songs for every occasion, laughed until their cheeks hurt, and even bleached a small streak in Eddie's hair, which got him grounded for a whole week.

It was easy, being with Shannon. Eddie felt like she understood him more than anyone else had ever bothered to. He could tell her about his complicated relationship with his parents, and instead of shutting down his insecurities, she asked about them on a deeper level.

Everything was perfect.

Or, almost perfect.

Diego, for one, became increasingly irritated the more Shannon came up in conversation. He'd get quiet during the retelling a funny story Shannon told him, instead of laughing with Eddie. When asked about what bothered him about her, if Eddie had missed something essential, Diego simply said he'd been tired lately. Eddie noticed, though, that the rest of the time Diego was his normal self.

After some time, Diego's attitude started annoying Eddie, and their usual time together was spent strictly while working together at the stand. Instead of calling Diego about something exciting that happened, Shannon became his go-to.

Just like now, with Eddie knocking on her door instead of walking down the street from his house to Diego's.

The door is answered, however, by Shannon's mom, Mrs. Harris, covered head-to-toe in flour.

"Eddie, hi! Sorry about this," she points down at her mess. "I've been trying to bake for the start of school sale, but you know how I am in the kitchen."

Eddie's spent enough time at the Harris house to have learned to politely refuse any dish made by Mrs. Harris. Shannon, though, makes chili con carne that rivals even Eddie's Abuela's.

"No problem. Is Shannon home?"

Mrs. Harris steps aside to welcome Eddie in. "She's just upstairs. Refused to tell me how her first day went. Have a crack at it and let me know later?"

Eddie smiles but they both know she's not getting the scoop from him.

The closer he gets to Shannon's room, the better he can decipher the lyrics of the Offspring song she's blasting. He knocks on the door several times, realizing it's no use, before he carefully opens it. Just in case, he covers his eyes and announces his presence with a yelled, "Cover up if you're naked!"

After just a beat, the volume of the music decreases enough for Eddie to hear his own voice and Shannon's, as she says, "Jeez, I'm fully dressed."

Eddie lowers his hand and takes a peak at her. Shannon's still wearing the same ripped black dress she wore to school, — the one that Eddie overheard her getting a week long detention for —, laid on her side in bed with music sheets spread across it in front of her.

"How did practice go?" asks Shannon, patting the empty space beside her for Eddie to sit.

"How did you first day go?" asks Eddie simultaneously, already on his way to claim his usual spot.

"You first," Shannon manages before Eddie can. He accepts his fate, plumping down on the mattress.

"Same as always. Coach made us do his own version of baseball suicides for the first half of it, because, don't feel like the first practice of the school year means you're starting from square one," Eddie air-quotes.

"He sounds like a prick," says Shannon, noting something down in her sheets.

"He is. And, uh," Eddie pauses, scratching the back of his sweaty neck. "You were the talk of the locker room after. Thought you should know."

Shannon seems unfazed by that. "Yeah, well. Fresh meat is interesting."

"What an appropriate way to call that, as a piece of meat is exactly what they referred to you as," says Eddie, irritated at the memory of how the baseball guys talked about her.

Still, Shannon shrugs. "You're probably the only guy in school who wasn't gazing at my boobs today."

Eddie's heart skip a single, but meaningful beat. "Um—"

"It's fine. I mean, it's not fine, but that's what teenage boys are like and I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be, though," says Eddie. "Ricky wants to be your boyfriend."

"Ricky…?"

"Right-fielder, I think he's in Chemistry with you. White, tall, bleached curls, always wears a baseball—"

"—jersey, yeah," Shannon finishes for him, making a face. "Yuck."

Eddie laughs at that. "Though you might think that. He asked me what you like so he can manipulate you into going out with him."

"Hm. What's the right-fielder's natural rivalry?"

"Baseball isn't like that," notes Eddie. "But Ricky always gets into fights with Ari, the catcher."

"And Ari is…?"

"Hold on, I have a picture," says Eddie, grabbing his backpack from the floor where he dropped it. He fishes out the photograph from his wallet, one taken after their final match of Junior year, and unfolds it to point out Ari in the group.

Shannon looks at it for a second, before declaring, "They all look the same amount of boring."

"Not me, though?"

"Never you," says Shannon. Then, before Eddie can mutter a relieved thanks, follows it up with, "Though, you'd be even more interesting had you stuck with ballroom dancing."

"I know," Eddie admits, putting the photograph away. "I saw Diego heading to the studio on my way to the locker room and he didn't say a word to me, all the while being extra friendly with Ari," he adds, lowering his chin to avoid looking his friend in the eye.

Shannon falls silent for a moment, then briefly puts her hand on Eddie's wrist in an effort of comfort. "You two will figure it out. You always have, right?"

In other times Eddie fought with Diego, let it be about him quitting dancing, for instance, they always made up so quickly that Eddie barely even noticed the absence of his best friend. Now, though? It's been weeks of hardly talking to each other. Eddie doesn't know how to fix it this time. He's not willing to sacrifice one friend for the other, even if that friend is the ever-stubborn Diego.

"Right," he tells Shannon anyway.

present.

The night isn't stretching as long as Eddie would like it to. Summer's approaching rapidly, and before long, the desert sky turns from dark and starry to a brighter blue.

When he thinks of blue these days, it's less scary. When he thinks of blue, he pictures home, and comfort, and earnestness. It's no longer a blue he fears looking too deeply into. He welcomes all the emotions that come with his gazing.

And he knows the owner or the blue has noticed the difference. How he lets their gazes linger, unlike before. He seeks the contact out. Whether it's the grief, or the few months of only seeing each other over Facetime, or something else entirely, Eddie doesn't know.

The blue no longer flinches or retreats. It embraces Eddie in any shape and form, emotion or lack of, wagging a finger at the blue or enveloping it in a desperate hug in the dead of night, in the bed no longer claimed by a sole owner, but longing to be claimed by two.

Eddie stops at the end of the road, hops out of the car and gazes at the crossed desert behind him.

It's a mirage of what's past, but a promise of what could be.

Winter of 2010.

"No."

"Please."

"I'm not a dancer."

"You don't have to be! It's just a school thing."

"Yes, a Winter formal. People will be groping each other on the gym floor. Ew!"

With that, Shannon slams her locker shut and starts walking away, down the hallway.

Eddie follows after her.

"Eddie, I've told you how I feel about prom and the likes," she carries on, clutching her school bag tightly and refusing to look at him. "It's so— Normal. I don't like it."

"What's wrong with normal every once in a while?" asks Eddie, begs even.

Shannon abruptly stops in her tracks and it takes Eddie a moment to realize and swing around.

"You really want to go?" she asks, defeated. "With me?"

"Who else?"

Shannon tilts her head, lowering her voice. "No ulterior motive? Not even the fact that the dance club will be doing a performance and you're not allowed to attend the formal stag?"

It's not the gotcha! moment she thinks it is. But Eddie relents.

"Fine, maybe, partly, I want to go to see what Diego's up to."

"Mhm. Partly," Shannon teases.

It's just— It's been months now of no-contact with Diego. Eddie misses him so much, he feels as though one of his limbs has been cut off. Everything reminds him of the lack of his presence in Eddie's life, and without him, it's getting harder to go through life remotely sane.

Diego used to be everywhere. Every milestone, every ashamed tear, every family fight, every celebration. Hell, this was the first New Year's Eve that Eddie didn't spend at the annual ballroom dancer gathering, stealing sips of champagne when the teachers weren't looking. He'd even gone the few years he was no longer part of the club.

This year, New Years was spent with his blood family, and he'd hardly endured the consequences of hard liquor entering his dad's bloodstream, the inevitable fights that followed and scared his younger sisters.

His thoughts are interrupted by Shannon letting out a sigh.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

Eddie sparks up. He nearly throws his fist in the air, but controls himself.

"Under one condition," says Shannon, in the midst of his internal celebration.

Ah. There it is.

"What?"

"You finally make up with Diego," says Shannon. Before Eddie can protest— "You make up with him or I bail out last minute enough that you can't get a refund for the tickets."

Shit, that would be a major rip in his wallet.

"But the formal's this weekend," Eddie realizes. "That gives me, like, three days. I can't possibly—"

"Better hurry up and get it done then, huh?" says Shannon, nudging his shoulder as she hurries past him. "I gotta go. Biology awaits."

"Wait, but—"

"Figure it out!" Shannon yells after him and does a little salute that would be embarrassing from anyone but her.

Eddie loves Shannon, okay? But sometimes, he really can't stand her antics.

Eddie doesn't make up with Diego before the formal comes around. He tries, but his every attempt is ruined or interrupted. Diego leaving the studio? He's on his phone to someone important. At his house? Diego's dad tells Eddie he's out walking the dog with Ari. In class? Miss Stacy gives him detention for trying to cheat off of Diego's notes.

In the end, Shannon relents and doesn't want Eddie's hard-earned money to go to waste.

Which is how Eddie finds himself Friday night, hoping to hell someone spikes the punch just so he can stop drinking it to help his throat, drying out the longer he watches Diego on the stage, dancing with Eddie's old partner Issie.

Shannon approaches him as Diego and Issie bow in the midst of applause from the crowd, a red cup in her hand of a drink that smells an awful lot like tequila.

"Are you trying to get kicked out?" Eddie near-hisses at her, snatching the cup and putting it away discreetly.

"Anything than be here," Shannon answers with a smirk. "Though, I've been having a blast watching Ricky try to ask girl after girl for a dance and them refusing each time. I can't wait until someone realizes he's come alone and gets his ass kicked out."

"You're evil," says Eddie, not really meaning it. "He's not that bad."

Something strange washes over Shannon's face.

"What?" asks Eddie, after just one more sip.

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Shannon steadies her breath, turning so serious Eddie doesn't like it one bit.

"Before the formal tonight, he got into a fight. With Diego," she says. As soon as Eddie hears the name, his heart starts racing so loudly, he can hardly make out the following. Diego? But—

It's then he notices it, what he thought to be some sort of prop or makeup during the dance. Diego has a black eye.

"—it started with the fact that Ricky was begging to be let in without a date. Diego was nearby and told him to stop causing a scene. Ricky, he, uh— Said some weird stuff about guys in ballroom dance, and Diego joked that if he couldn't find a girl date, he could've just brought Francis. Ricky got mad and told him that unlike Diego, he's not a— Uh, it escalated quickly from there. But seriously, Diego's fine, it's just a black ey—"

But Eddie's already marching across the gym to where he saw Ricky last. He's still by the bleachers, joking around with Francis, hard liquor on his breath. Eddie taps him on the shoulder to get him to turn around.

"Hey, Eddie-man! How's it—? OW!"

The punch Eddie throws at Ricky's face has him stumbling backwards and his own knuckles ache like he's split them open.

Everything happens so quickly after that, that Eddie doesn't even know who the strong arms dragging him out of the Winter Formal belong to, nor does he care for it.

Until he speaks.

"Eddie, what the fuck?!"

He's breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through his blood and painting it vile, like poison. But it's that voice that grounds him back on Planet Earth, that inclination, that Texan drawl. Familiar arms pinning him against the wall outside the gym. Eddie doesn't even feel the cool of the brick.

Eddie looks up and sees the deep brown, staring at him like it doesn't know the person in front of him.

His very best friend.

"Die—"

"No, I speak now," Diego spits at him. "What were you thinking? Do you wanna get expelled? What about when your parents hear about this? You'll never see the light of day again! This is not like you, at all."

But Eddie's riled up already. He feels brave enough to fight back, "How do you know what's like me? You've been ignoring me for months!"

They both stare at each other, tension heavy in the air between them.

Then, Diego releases him, steps back and unwrinkles his suit jacket. In the light from the street Eddie sees it all clearly now, the bruise forming around Diego's left eye. His blood boils.

"I haven't been ignoring you," Diego says quietly.

"Uh-huh. The unanswered texts and voicemails piling up sure make that impression."

Diego shuts his eyes, pained. When he opens them back up, they're glistening.

"That's not— Jesus, Eddie. I can't— I can't do this right now."

"When then? Would you rather wait until graduation? Or no, years after, when you've forgotten the sound of my voice and I call you just to check up on how my old childhood friend is doing, and you have to ask who is this?"

Diego looks pissed. "I could never forget your voice."

Despite himself, Eddie finally softens at that.

"Okay. Okay, then talk to me. What's going on? Why did you ditch me?"

"I ditched you? You're the one who ran off with Shannon!"

"I didn't—"

"I don't care," Diego cuts him short. "I've stopped caring. Look at me — all moved on."

He may try to paint that picture, but Eddie knows him. He hasn't moved on, not one bit.

"What the hell is your problem with me being friends with Shannon? People can have more than one friend!"

"I know that!" Diego fires back. "But the way you are with Shannon — it just pissed me off. It's like you were forgetting all about me, about us, just because of some stupid crush!"

"I don't have a—"

"Save your lies for someone else," says Diego. "I know you look at Shannon like you—"

He leaves his thought hanging there, in the air.

But Eddie won't have it.

"Like what?" he asks.

Diego swallows thickly, darting his gaze down to his feet, his shiny dance shoes.

"Like you used to look at me," he says, so quietly, it's almost drowned out by the muffled music.

Almost.

Eddie wants to step back, but the wall is there. He makes an awkward maneuver to get farther away from Diego, only to somehow end up within an arm's reach.

"I was jealous," Diego carries on, seemingly unaware of Eddie's attempts to escape the situation. "Of how close you were getting with her, and how quickly. You replaced me practically overnight. It hurt. I didn't want to keep watching it happen."

Eddie feels lost. So lost. He doesn't know what to make of any of this, other than the obvious.

"I'm not—"

"It's fine if you're not gay. Maybe bisexual?"

Everything Diego is saying right now is like a foreign language. Eddie's mouth falls open in shock and he keeps trying to step back, but can't. His limbs are refusing to move.

"Ed?" Diego asks, finally noticing Eddie's frozen figure. "Say something?"

He's no idea what to say. All he knows is that he needs to get the hell out of here.

"I gotta go—" he says quickly, gaining a sudden clarity that he can't take this conversation any further, can't bear it any longer. "—before Mom and Dad find out about Ricky and flip. Um. Bye."

And he sprints to his Dad's car, borrowed for the occasion, hoping like hell that Shannon's other friends can get her a ride home.

present.

Eddie takes the coastal route to Los Angeles. As much as the ocean has tried to take from him, he finds peace in the fact that even a force that powerful couldn't. Nothing can.

Buck calls him at seven on the dot, not even a minute after what Eddie knows to be his alarm.

"Hey," Eddie tells the speakerphone, wary of the cliffs he's driving on almost the edge of.

"Hey, you haven't texted me updates all night!" accuses Buck's sleep-groggy voice. "What's going on?"

"Relax, I've just been driving and listening to that oldies' station," says Eddie, endeared by his concern, although unfounded. "I should be home, in, say, two hours? I will do a quick stop somewhere before that, though, I gotta pee."

"You and your weak bladder," says Buck. "It's all that sugar you eat!"

"Stop giving me, an ex Army Doc, a current firefighter-paramedic, medical advice."

"They say doctors make the worst patients," Buck teases.

"You worry too much," Eddie says, lightheartedly. "Can this wait 'til I'm home?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to make sure you're not dead in a ditch somewhere. I gotta get breakfast ready and take Chris to school, anyway."

"But you'll be back before I'm there?"

"Should be. Why?"

Eddie taps the steering wheel of the van nervously, zoning out a little.

"Eddie?"

"Sorry, just— Can we talk, when I'm home?" Eddie offers, his voice trembling just like the rest of him. He pays closer attention to the road, just in case.

Buck doesn't respond long enough that it's Eddie's turn to call out for him.

"Uh, just— Can I get some intel on what this conversation will be about? Otherwise, I'll be stressing out about it for the next few hours and pounce you at the door."

What is Eddie supposed to say to not give himself away over the phone?

"If you're worried about me kicking you out, that's not the endgame here," he decides to joke to make the tension between them lighter.

"Then what is it?"

"Just— A few hours, Buck. Have some patience?"

"Have you met me?"

"Fair," Eddie laughs. "It's about our— Sleeping arrangements."

"I can sleep on the couch, I've already told you it's—"

"Not that. Just trust me?"

Buck doesn't hesitate a beat. "Of course I do."

"Then you can wait a few hours. Bye now."

"Wait, but— Ugh, bye!"

Eddie ends the call, snickering to himself.

Spring of 2010.

It's not that Eddie is against gay people. He likes them well enough, even when the world has repeatedly told him not to. That's why he threw that punch at Ricky in the first place — his disgusting homophobia that he thought he could fly with because they go to a Catholic school.

It's just— Eddie himself isn't gay. He's not going to suddenly identify himself as such because his best friend in the entire world suspects it.

Eddie likes girls! Isn't that what Diego implied? Apparently, he looks at Shannon like he likes her romantically. That's the only truth in all this!

So, Eddie decides to tell her. He plans out the perfect set-up, a movie weekend, during which they inevitably end up watching reruns of their favorite telenovelas, with lots of home-baked treats, courtesy of Abuela, to snack on, and so much Pepsi that they end up flagging from the sugar rush.

Eddie's never kissed someone before, but that doesn't stop him from trying.

Mrs. Harris is at the hospital, working a double, hence the impromptu sleepover. Eddie's parents think he's staying over at Diego's. They would never allow a sleepover with a girl.

It's at the end of a classic there's a twin! plot twist, that Eddie finally gathers the guts and catches Shannon off-guard by pecking her lips.

She tastes like sugary soda and vanilla cookies.

She doesn't kiss him back.

In fact, she recoils so quickly and makes a face so disgusted, Eddie's offended.

"What the hell?!" Shannon squeals, retreating to the far end of the couch.

"Sorry! I just thought—"

"You thought wrong!" To make matters worse, she grabs the soda and swooshes it around her mouth.

Now, that's just rude.

Frustrated, Eddie stands up from the couch and starts pacing. "I don't understand. You're a girl. I'm a guy. We've been spending a lot of time together since last summer. I thought that this is what it would inevitably lead to."

Shannon watches him, her eyes wide. "What are you—? I'm so confused."

"It's what everyone—"

"Who's everyone?"

"It just makes sense! Girls and guys can't be just friends!"

"You hear that from your old man or something?"

"Shannon!"

"Eddie!" she shouts back, grabbing one of the throw pillows on the couch and holding onto it for comfort. "I told you from the start, didn't I? You can't fall in love with me!"

That's not even the point. Eddie's not in love. He just has an infatuation that makes little sense to him, a stupid crush, like Diego said!

"And why not?" he spits out, exasperated that things can't go the way they're supposed to for once.

Shannon's lips tighten. Her skin turns paler. She looks down at her socked feet, with that big hole in the sole that she's never cared about around Eddie, because it doesn't matter if Eddie finds her attractive and put-together or not.

And he realizes the answer a split second before she voices it, like that stupid sock is the final piece of the puzzle that he hadn't seen the example picture of until now.

“Because I can’t love you back.”

Eddie stops his pacing and falls back onto the couch.

And just like that, the faucet is open. The answer to the question that's been bothering Eddie since that first night by the lake becomes clear in what Shannon says next.

“Esther. Esther Collins. She was my closest friend.” Her voice sounds like it's coming from afar, muffled by a door that won't budge in Eddie's attempts to crack it open. “That is, before her mom, the principal of my old school, caught me kissing her in her bedroom and threatened to ruin my life if I ever dared to go near her again. I haven’t talked to her since.”

Eddie should say a million different things. But all that comes out is—

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Shannon echoes, sniffling a little. “Eddie, I like— I don’t like boys.”

It’s easier than saying I like girls. Eddie can see the appeal.

He meets her gaze, teary and ashamed, and wants more than anything to make sure Shannon never feels ashamed. Not about this.

But he's distracted by what she says next.

“And, Eddie… Maybe it's not my place to say this, but I have to put it out there for your consideration," she levels with him, as though they aren't almost always on the same page. "I don’t think you like girls. Not in the way you think you like me. But it’s fine, you know. Maybe you're right. We should do this.”

There it is again. The assumption that Eddie is someone he can't even consider yet.

“Do what?”

“We could be together," says Shannon, earnest as always. "I could like girls in secret. You could like boys — if you so feel. And we wouldn’t need to tell anyone. We could just pretend. I know you’re just as good as pretending as I am. After all, you pretended well enough to convince yourself you actually like me.”

“I do like you," Eddie feels the need to defend himself.

Shannon tilts her head. “Same way you like Diego?”

Now it's Eddie who feels like crying. He hasn't had nearly enough time to think of a defense this time around. He just mumbles, “That’s not— Shannon, I’m not. I’m not—”

“You and I both know we can’t have what we want. Who we like. We’re never going to have that, at least not here, not now anyway," she says with so much conviction, that Eddie nearly believes in a future where that could be possible. "But maybe we could paint a pretty picture? Be lonely with each other. It’s better than being completely shut off.”

Eddie sits with it for a long time, but Shannon doesn't deflate. Maybe now that she's put it out there, the picture seems almost genuine. But could Eddie do this? At least while he figures out if Diego and Shannon are right about him?

In that moment, he remembers his instant fascination with Shannon. How he knew, from the get go, before she even voiced it, that she was different. Eddie was different, too. That's why the two of them work so well. That's why Eddie craves this friendship like he's almost never craved anything else. Shannon's always made him feel like he belongs.

Before he can convince himself otherwise, he takes Shannon's hand into his.

It's a promise he's not planning on breaking. For all she's done for him. For Shannon's sake.

And maybe, one day, even his own.

present.

TURN FOR LOS ANGELES
2.5 MILES

The highway is packed. Eddie didn't think so far ahead as the morning rush — traveling in the night is only beneficial if you're going from Los Angeles, not to.

Surprisingly, Buck doesn't call Eddie when he's stuck in traffic thirty minutes late from the time he'd promised to be home. It makes him wonder about what he could be doing, if he's already managed to spiral about Eddie's invitation for a talk.

Eddie has written down a script. He's no poet — it's a short summary of his stance, a paragraph he noted down in the bathroom of his final piss stop. But if Eddie's right about where Buck's mind is at, then hopefully it'll be enough.

For once, he believes that he could be enough.

Late Spring of 2010.

The next Monday, Eddie enters the school with Shannon's hand in his. They roam the hallways, pretending to be in conversation deep enough not to notice all the stares, all the finally's and I knew it's. From then on, they say hello's and bye's with a peck on the cheek and—

Somehow, it works.

Eddie's parents are thrilled. Look at their boy, landing a girlfriend right before graduating high school. Aw, isn't it going to be so cute doing long distance while they're at their respective colleges? They could be pen pals!

It lasts only a few months before a night where Eddie is pent up, Shannon feels impulsive, and both of them, previously tangled up in their pretense, end it worse off than before.

When Shannon gives him the middle-of-the-night call two weeks later, he knows what it is before he's even picked up the phone.

And for once, though he should, he doesn't head over to her house straight away.

He heads down the street, to Diego's.

They haven't spoken since the Winter Formal. It doesn't matter, though, because Eddie knows Diego to be just as invested in his affairs as Eddie is, even from afar. He knows the latest talk of the school, how those two finally got their shit together.

(If only they knew it's far from that.)

He doesn't say hello to Diego, who's thankfully home alone. He simply heads over to the living room, knowing he wouldn't be able to control himself were they to go to his bedroom, with all their shared memories there still in tact.

Diego waits in silence, in the threshold of the living room, while Eddie lingers by the fire place.

“Shannon is pregnant.”

It's a wild statement on its own.

But it receives an even wilder response.

“I’m in love with you,” Diego confesses, like Eddie refused to let him to that night outside the gym, the reminder of which Eddie's carried with him day and night since.

And he would love to say a lot of different things to that. But the situation doesn't allow it.

“No," says Eddie.

“No?”

“Don’t say that," Eddie pleads.

“Why not?”

“Because Shannon is pregnant.”

“Okay. So I can’t be in love with you?”

Not if I love you right back.

“Yes. Just— Let it go,” he tries to brush it off like it's just some dust gathered on a picture frame, but the truth is that no solution can magically erase it. Not fully, anyway.

“Let it go? What the fuck are you saying, Eddie?” asks Diego, barring his teeth.

“I can’t deal with this right now," says Eddie. As much as it's true, it's not why he chose to see Diego before he can speak to Shannon face-to-face. "I have to figure out how to tell my parents that I knocked up my girlfriend. They’re gonna flip. They’ll probably ask me to marry her before the baby bump shows.”

“Do you want to marry her?”

Eddie scoffs. “What do you think? We’re still in school. I’m not ready to be a husband, a parent.”

“I mean, do you love her?”

“Of course I love her. Just—”

“—in your own complicated way,” Diego finishes for him, brushing it off like Eddie had earlier, brushing it off like the way he loves Shannon isn't important, too. “Okay. How do you want me to help?”

“I don’t think you should. It might make things messier if you get involved.”

“Because Shannon doesn’t trust me not to steal away her dream man?”

Eddie shakes his head, determined to stick to his plan. Make it about himself, never Shannon.

“Because I don’t trust myself.”

Diego gazes at Eddie, so much want in the brown, and stupidly, also hope.

“What if we just—?”

“No," Eddie cuts him short before he can let himself dream about things he can't have. "Diego, please just— Just leave it be.”

“Leave it be," he echoes, nodding but not entirely agreeing. "You want me to leave it be? Why did you come here then?”

“To tell you that we can’t be— Anything anymore. Not with this baby in the picture. Do you understand?”

“I understand that you’re a fucking coward,” Diego spits out, before stepping forward, out of the door frame. For one dumb second, Eddie dares to hope.

But then— “Get the hell out of my house.”

It's the last time Eddie sees Diego before their graduation, when brown meets brown for a split second as their caps are dangling in the air of early June.

And then, never again.

present.

Eddie parks the moving van behind Buck's jeep in front of his — Buck's? their? — house.

Buck is already outside, sitting on the stairs of the porch.

Not because he's been eager to unpack all of Eddie's stupidly moved belongings back into their rightful place.

Not because he's been spiraling either.

As much as people like to paint Buck into someone oblivious, that's far from the case.

Because Eddie's felt for a while now that Buck knows. Maybe a part of him always has, but he's tried to pay it no mind, afraid to hope.

Eddie's been afraid, too. For too long.

But sometimes it takes a dead wife, and a cross-country move, and your coworker yelling at you in the middle of the station because you've lingered in your stupidity for so long that you've forgotten what really matters.

Eventually, you get there, though.

Eddie approaches Buck, leaving the moving van forgotten behind him, bar the keys to it, and sits down beside his always-more-than-a-best-friend.

And he could say so many things. But what he starts with is—

"Can I tell you a story?"