Chapter Text
Hudson Carter knew God was always watching before he even knew how to tie his shoes. That was thanks to his father.
"Eyes up."
Seven-year-old Hudson glanced away from the Saturday morning cartoon he'd been peering at through the front window of his neighbor's house.
His father, dressed in his church suit, stood beside him, his rough hand clutching Hudson's shoulder. "You listen during the Lord's Day."
"Yes, sir."
"What do we say?"
"God is always watching."
"And?"
Hudson gulped.
"He sees every sin."
His father nodded once.
"Good."
The front doors of the church burst open, spilling out a flurry of laughing families into the crisp Sunday afternoon.
All the smiles seemed directed at his father as he and Hudson exited into the bright sunshine.
"Brother Carter!"
"Wonderful sermon today."
"So good to see you."
Hudson never understood how his father could be so jolly here.
In church, he would laugh with people.
Shake their hands. Tote Bibles. Sing louder than everyone.
At home... Home was a different kind of service. It was a quiet drive back, the rumble of the tires on cracked pavement the only noise except for Joshua, Hudson's six-year-old brother, sleeping beside him with his tiny head lolled against his shoulder.
Joshua still occasionally sucked his thumb in his sleep.
Hudson adjusted his brother's head so it wouldn't bounce against the car window, and his father noticed it in the rearview mirror.
"Quit fussing over him."
Hudson immediately pulled his hands away.
"Sorry."
"You apologize too much."
"...Sorry."
His father sighed.
"Exactly."
The remainder of the drive was silent. The Carter house sat at the end of the block, its white paint chipped and peeling.
The porch slanted awkwardly close to the front steps.
It looked tranquil enough, but Hudson knew differently. His father closed the front door behind them and threw his Bible onto the kitchen table.
"I'll be back."
Hudson looked up as his father retreated to the garage.
The knot in Hudson's stomach tightened.
He knew what his father kept in the garage. Not tools. Not boxes.
Booze. Sometimes whiskey. Sometimes both.
Joshua wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
"Is Daddy mad?"
Hudson put on a smile.
"No."
"Promise?"
"..Yeah."
Joshua smiled, relief washing over his young face.
"Okay."
Hudson hated lying, but he hated seeing Joshua scared even more. By evening, the first bottle of beer was gone. By sunset, three bottles littered the kitchen floor.
Hudson sat on his bedroom floor with Joshua, drawing dinosaurs.
Every giggle from his little brother seemed thin. Downstairs- A bottle shattered. Joshua flinched. Hudson froze too.
His father's voice roared through the house.
"I said LEAVE ME ALONE!"
No one had even said a word. Joshua stared toward the bedroom door.
"...Bubba?"
"It's okay."
"Doesn't sound okay."
Hudson forced a smile.
"He probably dropped something."
Joshua was quiet. A second crash, louder this time, shook the floor.
Hudson stood slowly.
"Stay here."
Joshua grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't go."
"I'll be right back."
He wasn't sure if that was true. Hudson stepped out into the hallway.
The scent hit him first: stale beer.
His father stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a jagged circle of broken glass. His tie was askew. His suit jacket lay in a crumpled heap. The man who had spoke with such fervor and conviction earlier today was reduced to being tired, angry, and defeated.
His father glanced at him.
"What?"
"Do you need help?"
His father let out a hollow laugh.
"You gonna clean this?"
"I-I can."
"Then do it."
Hudson grabbed the dustpan and began collecting the shards. As he worked, his father popped the cap off a fresh bottle of beer. "You know why your mother left?" Hudson stopped, the glass held mid-air.
"... No."
"Because people are weak."
He took a swig.
"They chased feelings instead of God." Hudson stared at the broken pieces in his hands.
"I won't."
"You better not."
Later that night, after Joshua had drifted off to sleep, Hudson slipped outside and sat on the old wooden swing that hung from the oak tree in the front yard. The chains creaked gently, a softer sound than the yelling indoors. He closed his eyes. One.
Two.
Three. Ten. Twenty.
Thirty.
"Are you okay?"
Hudson's eyes flew open.
A boy stood on the other side of the fence between their yards.
His hair was curly blond, and his eyes were a bright, startling green. He was carrying a soccer ball under one arm. Hudson recognized him; his family had moved in a few weeks ago. The boy gave a small wave.
"I'm William."
Hudson blinked. "...Hi."
"You live here?"
Hudson nodded. William looked toward the house.
"It's kinda loud."
Hudson's stomach tightened.
"My dad dropped something."
William didn't look convinced.
"Oh."
A silence fell between them, awkward but not entirely unpleasant. Then William smiled.
"Wanna see something cool?"
Before Hudson could answer, William bounced the soccer ball on his knee. Once. Twice.
Three times.
And then he balanced it on the tip of his toe. A genuine smile spread across Hudson's face.
"Whoa."
William grinned.
"I've been practicing."
"You didn't drop it."
"I know."
Hudson let out a soft laugh, small but real.
William's smile widened.
"You should laugh more."
Hudson's gaze immediately fell to the grass.
"Oh, i-im sorry."
William frowned.
"Why are you apologizing?"
Hudson opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He honestly didn't know why.
William tossed the soccer ball over the fence, and Hudson caught it just in time.
"Kick it back."
"I've never played."
"I'll teach you."
Hudson hesitated. Another muffled shout echoed from within the house.
William seemed not to hear it.
He appreciated that more than words could convey. He nudged the soccer ball back with his foot; it skittered across the lawn. William scrambled after it with exaggerated theatricality.
"Oh no!"
He flopped onto the grass.
"I've been defeated!"
Hudson laughed again, louder this time. William peered up at him.
"There it is."
"What?"
"Your laugh."
Hudson felt his cheeks flush.
"It's nice."
No one had ever said that to him before. A porch light flickered on behind Hudson. His heart sank.
"Hudson!"
"I have to go."
William nodded quickly.
"Okay."
He paused for a moment, then added, almost an afterthought, "See you tomorrow?" Hudson looked back at him. Tomorrow.
No one had ever asked to see him tomorrow.
"... Yeah."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"I'd like that."
As Hudson hurried toward the house, he didn't see William still watching him from the other side of the fence, his own smile fading slightly as another shout erupted from within.
He only knew one thing. For the first time in a long time... Tomorrow was something to look forward to.