Work Text:
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
What? I don’t even know why I wrote that. I’m never giving you this stupid letter. Obviously. Barely 24 hours ago, I thought you were a complete and total asshole, but tonight there was a moment where you had my back and we had a moment and I just… felt like I could see all the way through you. And I can’t stop thinking, I wish I had that with Shannon. I wish we understood each other. I wish we had each other’s backs. So maybe I should just marry you.
Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme. I’m already married, I guess, if you can even be married to someone you haven’t seen for years.
I don’t know why I bought a fucking diary. I don’t know why I bought a fucking diary and I’m using the first page to write an imaginary love letter to my new coworker. This is so stupid.
Love,
what??? Not love.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Just kidding. It would be funny if I started every page just like that. This whole diary thing is sort of growing on me. I keep looking back at where I called you “my new coworker” and laughing. It’s only been a few weeks, but you’re so much more than that now. It feels almost impossible to remember what it was like to not know you. It makes me want to stick to this whole diary thing just to keep a record. Not a record of you. That would be weird. I just mean a record of me, my life, so I can look back and remember.
I’ve never had a partner, really. Or— I guess I’ve had lots of partners, but never like this. I really like working with the 118. There’s a camaraderie in being a firefighter, almost like being a soldier. But this feels safer, surer, like we’re not all waiting for each other to die. Til death do us part—that’s a marriage thing. I wonder if I’ll know Buck—I mean, you—until one of us dies.
I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m so exhausted and I have to get up early to get Christopher to Abuela’s. I love that kid to death, but sometimes I think balancing work with looking after him is going to kill me one day.
Goodnight.
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Seriously. Marry me. When you pulled that shit with Carla today I swear I could have dropped to one knee right then and there. Not in a gay way. Just, you knew exactly what I needed and you went out of your way to help me get it. I can’t even describe the relief I feel knowing that Christopher will be better taken care of from now on. Something tells me that I don’t have to find the words, though—you understand me anyway.
I think you might be the best friend I’ve ever had. I know that’s crazy. We barely know each other. But I think it’s true. I’ve never known anyone else that would have done something like this for me. And I trust you. I’ve trusted you from that first night we properly worked together. And now I owe you everything. I don’t know if I can ever thank you for this.
Yours in matrimony (??????????)
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Maybe then you could have met with the school as Christopher’s other parent instead of Shannon coming back. She kissed me, you know. (I know that you know. I told you.) Everything is complicated with Shannon. But you just come to the mall with me and Chris to meet Santa, and you sit with me, and you make everything better. It’s never been complicated with you.
I can have sex with Shannon, at least. That’s not something I would do with you. No offense, man. You’re obviously conventionally attractive, from an objective standpoint, but I’m just not into you like that. We’re both men. And straight. And friends. And coworkers. I don’t know why I’m explaining all this; I don’t have to justify myself. I don’t want you. I want Shannon.
Well, I actually don’t know if I want Shannon. That’s kind of the problem. I don’t know if I can trust her, or if she’ll let Chris down again. If she’ll let me down again.
Would you let me down, Buck? I don’t know why I’m asking. You never have.
Your friend,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
I forgot I had this damn book. But I guess I haven’t had any reason to write in it—you’re injured, and I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to marry you. You are so fucking annoying when you’re grumpy. You’re being such an asshole to me. If this is what marrying you would be like, I don’t want it.
That’s a lie. I do want it. Not marriage, but—I want to stay. You can say whatever you want to me, and I can’t even bring myself to be mad at you. It’s not your fault. I know it’s so frustrating for you, being stuck in a bed, having to do awkward, painful physical therapy, not being able to work or exercise or even walk. Honestly, Buck, I’ll sit at your bedside and let you snap at me every single day until you’re better. If you never get better, I’ll stay forever.
It’s not out of pity. I know you don’t want to be pitied. I can’t believe Ali broke up with you. She has no idea what she lost. You deserve someone who adores you, who stays, rain or shine, cheerful or sullen. You’re having a hard time, but you’re still you. And you’re still my best friend. And you’ll always be my best friend. And I hope you feel better.
I have to say all this here because I know if I say any of it to your face you’ll probably take a swing at me. If you ever read this (you never will. but if you ever do) I swear it’s not pity. I just care about you.
Anyways. Bye. Time to force your meds down your stupid stubborn throat.
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
It’s just that if we live in the same house, I can keep an eye on you. Keep you out of trouble, maybe. Well… maybe not. I know I couldn’t keep you out of trouble if I tried. God, Buck. You were out in a tsunami all day and I had no idea. I thought you and Chris were safe and happy on the other side of the city. I never would have guessed you were bleeding out on the street, yelling my son’s name for hours. The idea of you thinking I would never forgive you, that I don’t trust you… I can’t bear it. I trust you more than anyone.
I still remember what I said to you today: There is nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you. I wonder if you’ll remember that. I wonder if you’ll believe me. It’s true. I trust you with him fully and completely, and I have for longer than you can imagine. I just wish I could trust you with yourself. You were barely healed from a truck falling on you and you had a fucking pulmonary embolism. You walked around bleeding for hours on blood thinners. You could have gotten an infection. You could have bled out.
Marry me. And then I can keep an eye on you all day, every day.
I think I might actually do it, if I really had to. Marry you, I mean. If you came to me and said we had to get married for tax reasons, or for medical stuff, I would probably marry you, as a friend. That feels weird to admit now. There was a time when even the idea of marriage was so sacred to me that I would never consider this. And it’s not like that’s ever going to happen. I don’t think people actually do that in real life.
But… I don’t know. It’s just weird to think that maybe my values are changing. That the rules don’t matter to me so much anymore. All that really matters is Chris. And you.
This is so weird. I can never tell you this stuff. But I’ll tell you that I trust you. As many times as it takes until you believe it.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
If you married me, you couldn’t file a stupid lawsuit and kick yourself out of my life. Out of Christopher’s life. Fuck this. Fuck you, man.
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I need to know that if I die, Chris will be cared for by someone who loves him, genuinely, for who he is. I almost gave up in the bottom of that well today. But I had to keep going for him. I don’t want to worry anymore. If we were married, I wouldn’t have to worry. I would just know that you’d take care of everything.
Actually, guardianship of Christopher is probably something I can put in my will. Is it fucked up to leave someone a kid in your will? I’m going to do it.
I don’t think I can ever tell you. Hopefully you never have to find out. But I know that if it came down to it, you’d take him in. You love him, I know you do. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You love him like he’s your own son. Sometimes when we’re all together it’s like—
Never mind. Anyway, you don’t have to marry me. I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
All I want in a wife is someone who loves Christopher and makes him happy. And the look on his face when you bought me that stupid evil coffee machine was just so bright and joyful. He loves you. Maybe I
I don’t know what I’m doing writing a hundred joke marriage proposals to my best friend in a little notebook I hide in my dresser. With Hildy in the house, I’m going to have to find a new hiding place. I don’t want her finding it and knowing my secrets.
Marry me. Move into my house, make my kid smile, and protect me from that damn coffee machine.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
I don’t think I can ask you to marry me—even secretly, even as a joke—when I have a girlfriend now. But, God. If I married you, at least that Taylor Kelly wouldn’t be hanging around anymore. She would know that you’re mine.
Well, you’re not mine. But you’re definitely not hers. You keep saying you’re friends. I just want to make sure she knows that too. You really know how to pick ‘em, Buck. First there was Abby, who basically dumped you without even telling you about it, then Ali who left the minute things got hard. You’ve probably forgiven her for that, but I won’t. And now Taylor, who could never in a million years deserve you.
It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.
But I don’t have to like it, either.
Your best friend (me, not Taylor),
Eddie
Dear Evan,
Evan. I called you that today, out loud. I don’t even really know why I did. Sometimes I feel like “Buck” is really, fully, truly you, and sometimes I feel like it’s a persona that you hide behind. But I wanted you to know that you’re important to me—to everyone. You, Buck… and you, Evan. All of you. I know that your parents suck, and I know that they made you feel like “Evan” isn’t a guy worth loving (I will never, ever forgive them for that). But he is. We all love you so, so much.
I can’t stand the idea of you thinking you’re some kind of extra, or backup plan, or spare. That you don’t have anyone that needs you. I need you. Christopher needs you. Especially because I could just die at any moment, on a fucking Tuesday in broad daylight in Los Angeles. I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe. But I sure as hell won’t feel safe if you’re not going to be there to take care of Chris.
Shit, I forgot to start this one by asking you to marry me. Well, marry me. Maybe then you’d understand what you mean to me. Wait, not like that. That came out wrong. I just meant… I don’t know what I meant. If I married you, I would stand in front of you at the altar and yell in your face, I WANT YOU IN MY LIFE. I CHOOSE TO HAVE YOU AROUND. I DON’T KNOW IF I COULD LIVE WITHOUT YOU. YOU ARE THE BEST PERSON I HAVE EVER KNOWN. Maybe then you’d get the fucking hint and see yourself how I see you.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
At least if I just ended up with you, I wouldn’t have to break anyone’s heart. I broke up with Ana today, and it was awful. I don’t know why I led her on for so long. I just thought that we would get there eventually, you know? But we were never even going in that direction.
I should swear myself to a life of celibacy. I shouldn’t be allowed to date any more women. I just never get it right. All I wanted was a wife and a mother and then when she started getting close to that, I didn’t want it any more. I’m starting to think I have no idea what I actually want.
I’m so tired of it all. Let’s just be cat people together, or something. I don’t even like cats. At all. They freak me the hell out.
Sincerely,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Just because you’d have to dump fucking Taylor to do it.
Sorry, that’s not fair.
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Chris needs one fucking parent who can actually be a good father. I scared the hell out of him today, but then you were just there. You always are.
I’ve been going to therapy, but I need to start actually trying hard to get better. For Christopher’s sake. Maybe one day, it’ll be for my sake. Maybe one day, I’ll feel like I deserve that.
Until then, you’re here. I know you’re always here.
Thank you.
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Or will the department have an issue with that now that I’m back at the 118? (Yes, I’m just using this proposal as an excuse to mention the fact that I’m back at the 118.) I finally feel like—well, not like myself. “Feeling like myself” before was feeling scared, and angry, and like a failure in every possible way. But now I don’t feel like myself. I feel like something new. Something easier and harder at the same time.
I can already feel myself being a better parent to Chris. You know when something happens and you just deal with it, and you think, a year ago that would have been impossible? But you just do it. Like it’s easy. Nothing’s easy, obviously. But it’s better, and I’m back to work. I’m back to work!
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
If you marry me, your parents will be my in-laws, and I can tell them to go the hell back to Butt-fuck, Pennsylvania and stay out of our lives forever. Sorry. I’m not helping. You can’t even fucking marry me if you never fucking wake the fuck up.
I’m a mess. I’m so worried about you, and I miss you so much, and I can barely look at you in your hospital bed, and it makes my blood boil to see your parents stand there and decide to care about you now. And I just keep thinking, none of this will be a problem if you just come back to me.
Come back, Buck. Wake up.
Love,
Eddie
Buck,
It feels like a crime to write about you in my little book while you’re in the other room sleeping on my couch. I don’t know if I should feel good that you feel safe and comfortable enough in my house to fall asleep instantly here, or if I should be worried about you being too tired.
But god, I’m glad you’re here. If I listen really closely, I can hear your breathing. It’s so good to hear your breathing. It’s so good to know you’re safe, because you’re right here with me.
Marry me, so I can know you’re safe. Marry me, so I can always hear your breathing.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Maybe it’ll get Pepa off my back. She keeps setting me up on dates with random women. I hate dating.
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I can’t believe I’m still starting entries with that. I remember years ago, buying this stupid journal on a whim, and when I sat down in front of a blank page, those were the only words I could think of. Dear Buck, will you marry me? I didn’t even know you then. Now I think we might as well be married sometimes. You came over today to talk to Chris about cheating on his girlfriend.
I can’t believe that kid. Thirteen years old and he’s already cheating on his girlfriend. I had no idea what to say. But you did. You always do. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.
We never really say things like that to each other. Sometimes I try—I go to say I care about you, or you’re important to me, and my throat just closes and the words dry up in my mouth. I don’t even think we’ve ever said “I love you” to each other in our six years of friendship. But in a journal, I can say whatever I want. And I know that you love me. And you know that I love you. You’re like a brother to me. Actually, no. You’re not like a brother to me. As soon as I wrote that I knew it was wrong. So, not a brother. But still. Family.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Is it unethical to ask you that now that you’re bisexual? I guess you’ve been bisexual the whole time, actually, because that’s how sexuality works. You came out to me the other night, and you looked so nervous, and I just wanted to give you the biggest hug. I know I didn’t have the most accepting upbringing, but there’s nothing that could ever come between us. Including this.
I’m not really sure how I feel about you and Tommy together yet. On the one hand, you’re my friend and he’s my friend. What could be better than that? You seem to really like him, and so I told you to go after him. And I think that was the right call. But on the other hand…. It feels weird liking one of your partners. You have such a bad track record that I feel like I’m just… waiting for him to mess up. Is that bad? I’m supposed to be his friend, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I’m happy for you. I’m happy for you. I’m happy for you.
I’ll get there.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Then I would have at least one family member left. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I drove away Chris, and I drove away Marisol, and I don’t know—maybe I should take the chance to marry you before I drive you away too.
That’s not fair to you, actually. You’ve barely left my side since the whole thing happened. You’ve been… I don’t have a word for what you’ve been over these last few weeks. A miracle, maybe. The only thing holding me up.
I’m going to therapy again. I think I owe Christopher that much. I don’t think I really realized how much of my feelings about Shannon’s passing I left unresolved. But I’m going to therapy, and I’m going to work through it, through all of it, no matter how hard it is. And I’m gonna come home from every session feeling like I just got hit by a bus, and you’re going to be sitting on my couch, and you’re going to smile at me, and I’m going to-
Well. Unless you’re with Tommy, I guess. You have things to do, you can’t just hang around my house whenever I want you to. And it’s not like I need a babysitter for Christopher anymore. But I hope you stay nearby anyway. Please.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
I’m gay.
I’ve never said it out loud, and this is my first time writing it down, but I thought you should be the first person I tell (even if I won’t be ready to tell you for real for a little while). I am gay. It turns out, when you spend 95% of your marriage apart, and then you panic at the idea of settling down with a woman, and then you panic at the idea of having sex with another woman, those might be signs that you’re not actually into women.
It’s hard to get past. But it’s kind of a relief, in a way. I’m not an asshole, I’m just gay. Well—I guess I’m still an asshole. I’ve still caused the same amount of pain. But now I understand why, and how, and I never have to do it again.
Do you think Chris is homophobic?
No, we didn’t raise him that way. Right? Every day he spends in Texas, I worry that my parents are changing him into someone I won’t recognize. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I went to great lengths to make sure that even if I died, he wouldn’t end up with them. And now he is.
This is not the point. The point is, I’m gay. I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m gay. It gets easier to write. Not much, but it does.
I’m gay.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me? Please please please please please will you marry me. I need to sink my teeth into your muscles more than I need air to breathe. I spend every waking minute thinking about it. Maybe I’m ovulating. Is there a guy version of ovulating? I should know this, I’m a trained medic.
Okay, there isn’t. I’m not ovulating, I’m just losing my mind. Great. This whole being un-repressed is not all it’s cracked up to be.
I’m getting used to that whole being gay thing, and I figured out how to stop repressing my attraction to men, and now I can’t turn it off, and it’s the strongest when I’m around you, and it’s so fucking distracting. You’ll stand a certain way or lift your arm or just sit there, and I just want to scream. And bite you.
I need to get myself under control, before you find out. What if Tommy finds out and murders me? I’ve tried googling how to stop being attracted to your best friend, but nothing helpful comes up. You’re going to be here in ten minutes, and I’m going to sit next to you on the couch and objectify you in my mind. I’m a terrible friend. But I can’t stop.
Save me. Or have sex with me
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I’m trying to be sorry that you and Tommy broke up. I’m trying to muster up a single ounce of sympathy for either of you, but honestly you don’t seem that sad and I’m just glad to see him go. He wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody is.
Marry me. Now that he’s gone. Marry me.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I came out to Chris yesterday and you today, and I tried to keep it together, but I cried a little bit, and then you cried, and you hugged me. And so many things are better now. I finally feel like I understand myself, and Chris is home, and you were so happy for me earlier, and now you’re asleep on the couch, missing the entirety of this gay movie barely an hour after you insisted we watch it. And I just have this feeling in my chest… I don’t know what it is. Peace, maybe.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
I think that I actually want you to marry me.
It has come to my attention that repeatedly writing you letters in a notebook asking you to marry me is not very platonic, and neither is anything else in the letters, and I actually don’t think I’ve been platonic with you a day in my life.
All of this to say, I’m in love with you. Head over heels. Ass over tits. (Whatever. I don’t have tits. (You kind of do. (I’m kind of obsessed with them.))) I am completely, totally, utterly, irrevocably (big word!) in love with you, and I think some part of me has been for a long, long time. Surprise!
I can never tell you this.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
That’s what I’m going to ask you when I get the chance. Just kidding, I’m not. But I am going to tell you how I feel. I wasn’t planning on ever telling you, but today we sort of had a moment. You looked at me, and I just thought… not that you might feel the same, exactly. Just that you’d understand. And that you’d want to know.
I just don’t know what I’m going to say. Hey, Buck. Come on in. Do you want a beer? I’m in love with you.
No.
You know how I like men? Well, you’re a man. And I like you. This is terrible.
I could say I have feelings for you. That sounds slightly less incriminating than I’m in love with you. Slightly.
I don’t know. The words will come when it’s time.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Holy shit. I’m actually going to marry you.
It took me almost a week to go through with it, but I finally confessed to you, and you just looked at me like I had three heads, and it scared the shit out of me. But then you just grabbed me by my shirt and kissed me, and I knew in that moment. I just knew. I thought, this is it. This is the rest of my life.
And it’s morning now, and you’re in my bed, and we haven’t done anything except kiss yet but I’m not worried because I know we have the rest of our lives to get there. So I snuck out to make you coffee, and to write this. I love you. Somehow, impossibly, you love me. And we have 8 years of proof that we work. And… I’m going to marry you.
I’m not in a hurry. I’ve rushed into things before, but I won’t do that to you. I’m gonna take you on a date this week. And I’m gonna take you on a date next week. And maybe in a few months, I’ll ask you to move in. And someday, at some point down the line, I’m going to ask you to marry me, and you’re going to say yes. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I know I have to be patient, but god. I wish I could ask you. Yesterday was our six-month anniversary, and I asked you to move in. I googled it, and apparently couples usually move in together after a year or two. So I guess this might be a little fast, but I’m proud of us for waiting this long. We’ve already done everything you’re supposed to do before you live together—we’ve gone on trips, we’ve seen each other angry, we’ve seen each other cry. We’ve smelled each other’s B.O., and dirty socks, and morning breath. We know we can share groceries and finances. Besides, we already know we’re spending the rest of our lives together.
You said yes. Obviously. And you’re getting out of your lease at the end of the month. I wish it could be today. But I always feel like that. I wish I could propose today. I wish I could marry you today.
But I’ll wait.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
You’re making dinner, and the sun’s coming through the kitchen window, and you look like an angel. I love you so much. I want forever with you. Marry me.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I’m so fucking proud of you today, baby. I know it was hard, but it’s so good to know that your parents have broken your heart for the last time. They don’t deserve a place in your life—or Maddie’s—after the way they treated you. You have a family here in LA. You have Bobby, me, Chris, the entire 118… we all love you more than enough to make up for your parents, okay? One day we’ll be a family legally, too.
I love you so much. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that. I would end every sentence with that, if you wanted me to. But for now, I can just hold you and remind you that everything is going to be okay.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
Today we had that call at that kids’ soccer practice, and just watching you with them made me want to explode. I know you want another kid. We haven’t talked about it, but I know. For what it’s worth, I want another kid too. Not just to make you a parent again. …Maybe like 40% for that. But I want everything with you. Marriage and babies and arthritis actually I hope neither of us gets arthritis. But a kid… yeah. I want that.
Maybe two.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
I’m going to kill you.
You brought home a fucking kitten that you found on the side of the highway. And I was going to tell you to take it to a shelter, but you looked at me with your goddamn fucking face and I couldn’t bring myself to say no to you. And you named her Tiny even though she’s not going to be tiny forever, and every time I look at you holding her I want to cry. You’re so big and she’s so small and you’re both so cute and I seriously think I’m going to die.
This is not to say I love her or anything. She’s like a creature from hell. She pissed on the rug, and her litter box reeks because she’s not old enough to be good at burying her poop well yet. And I tried to pick her up the other day, and she scratched me. I hate you, and you’re evil. And she’s evil.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I’m caving and buying a ring. It’s not time yet, but we get closer every day. I know that if I asked you right now, you would say yes, but I guess I knew that within the first eight months of our relationship. It wasn’t time then, and it’s not time now.
But… soon. I talked to Tiny, and she agreed. I said, Meow if you think it’s too soon for me to go ring shopping, and she didn’t say a word.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Buck,
Will you marry me?
I’m going to ask you tonight. I have it all planned out. You pretend to be easy, but you try so hard for other people, and I know you would love a stupidly dramatic, lavish proposal. We don’t need big, romantic gestures, but… I think you deserve one. I want you to know I’m not just asking you to marry me because I can. I’m asking you to marry me because nothing in this world would make me happier than being your husband.
I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I know we’ve already spent years and years attached at the hip, but I want to keep coming home with you forever. I want to watch every shitty movie that’s ever been made. I want to help you practice your Spanish and force you to get into telenovelas. I want to buy a bigger house and fill it with love. You, and me, and Chris, and Tiny (and then a few more). I want to be sitting at the kitchen table with you one day and realize we’ve been together longer than we were apart.
I want to marry you.
I’m going to ask you today, and hopefully you’ll say yes, and I’ll give you this notebook to read. When I started it, I never would have imagined we’d end up here.
This has been my notebook for over ten years. Now, it’s yours.
Love,
Eddie
Dear Eddie,
Yes.
Love,
Buck