Chapter Text
The sound of Christopher’s bedroom door clicking shut was what caught Eddie’s attention. Normally, Chris left it open, music drifting out into the hallway while he worked on homework or chatted with his friends online. Eddie hesitated outside for a moment, listening. Silence.
“Chris?” Eddie knocked lightly before poking his head in. His son sat on the edge of the bed, his backpack dropped haphazardly beside him, sneakers still on.
“Hey, Dad.” Chris smiled, but there was something off in the way his shoulders tensed, his hand brushing quickly over the zipper of the bag.
Eddie frowned. “Rough day?”
Chris shrugged, too quickly. “It was fine.”
Years as a firefighter had taught Eddie to trust his instincts. Something was wrong. He stepped further into the room, reaching for the backpack before Chris could stop him.
“Dad—”
The zipper rasped loudly as Eddie opened it, rifling through until his hand closed on something unexpected. When he pulled it out, his heart sank.
A half-empty pack of cigarettes. A lighter.
The air between them seemed to go still.
“Chris.” Eddie’s voice was careful, measured, the same tone he used in tense situations on scene. “You want to tell me what this is?”
Christopher’s face went pale. His eyes darted to the floor, then back to Eddie. “They’re… they’re not mine!”
“Then whose are they?” Eddie asked softly, holding the pack up between two fingers.
“I—I don’t know! Someone must have—put them there or something!” Chris stammered, his voice cracking on the last word.
Eddie wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. But the way Chris avoided his gaze, the nervous shifting in his seat—it all felt too familiar.
He sat down on the bed, keeping the cigarettes in his hand. “Chris, look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Christopher raised his eyes.
“I’m going to throw these out,” Eddie said quietly, standing and heading toward the trash can. “But I need you to know lying to me? That’s worse than anything I just found in your bag.”
“I’m not lying!” Chris insisted, louder this time, though the tremble in his voice betrayed him.
Eddie exhaled through his nose, the conflict twisting inside him. He remembered being that age, hiding things from his own parents, the gulf that had opened between them every time trust was broken. He didn’t want that for him and Chris.
He dropped the cigarettes into the kitchen trash a few minutes later, standing there for a long time with his hands braced on the counter.
His son had just lied to him.
And Eddie didn’t know what scared him more — that Chris was lying, or that he might have a reason to.