The office feels sterile, with its plain walls and the hum of the overhead lights, but you barely notice it. Your heart is pounding too hard, and your palms are a little sweaty as you stand behind the social worker. You keep your head down, the long sleeves of your hoodie pulled over your hands, even though you know they’re watching you.

The door opens fully, and you hear the faint scrape of chairs as they stand up. “There they are,” the social worker says, her tone warm but overly bright like she’s trying to make this less awkward than it is. “Name, this is Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz. Buck and Eddie, this is Name.”

You glance up briefly. They’re standing side by side, smiling, though in completely different ways. Buck’s grin is wide and energetic like he’s just been waiting for this moment. Eddie’s smile is smaller and calmer, but no less welcoming. You shift uncomfortably, unsure what to say or do.

“Hey, Name!” Buck is the first to speak. His voice is loud but not in a bad way—more like he can’t quite contain his excitement. “I’m Buck, and this is Eddie.”

Eddie gives a small wave. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his tone steady and soft.

You mumble something—maybe a “Hi,” perhaps just a noise—and look back down at the floor. You feel their eyes on you, but it doesn’t feel like they’re judging you. It’s different, softer.

Buck steps forward, crouching a little to meet your line of sight, and you can’t help but notice how blue his eyes are. “So,” he starts, his grin softening, “I’ve got to know—are you more of a pizza person or a pancakes person? Because Eddie makes killer pizza, but I’ve got the pancake game locked down.”

The question catches you off guard, and despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitches upward. It’s small, barely noticeable, but it’s there. Eddie nudges him gently, shaking his head with a look that seems half amused, half fond. “No pressure. We’re just really glad to have you here.”