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It had been a while since the two of you had seen each other. Longer than you were used to.
There was barely ever any time between the runs you and Carl took or the chores you did together. After a couple Tuesdays ago, he was always off helping his dad in the fields, or doing odd jobs with Herschel, or running off to who God knows where.
And all of it just to avoid talking about what had happened that night. What a dork.
After a brief conversation with Mr. Rick Grimes, he had told you Carl had been sulking during his absent period.
Mr. Grimes was a respectable man. It was easy to see he had been through a lot; the two men both had. But he was happy to see the two of you spending so much time together, especially with the warm and slightly giddy grin his son always had plastered on his face when in your presence.
It was also easy to see that Mr. Grimes could read you like an open book. The slight smile in his eyes every time you talked to him comforted you; he trusted you, and he trusted you with Carl, too.
He would definitely kill you if you ever hurt Carl, though. Those happy creases in his face would disappear, and would instead mutter silently, I thought I knew you.
You had been counting off the days as you thought to yourself. He had been shy, not wanting to scare you. And so, hand gripped tight around yours, the two of you had laid down in a tranquil silence atop the watchtower, tossing Maggie and Glenn’s things aside to get comfortable and watch the stars.
Carl wasn’t avoiding you to be mean. He wouldn’t do that. Instead, he was probably confused about how he felt. Maybe even scared.
It was weird to think of Carl that way: nervous and pondering to himself, pacing alone in the library for cleaning duty. You almost felt bad for him.
Maybe that’s why your hand was hovering over the doorknob.
The heavy door silently swung open, and the lazy evening sun illuminated the layer of dust coating the shelves surrounding you and floating through the air. For how small the space was, the bookshelves were quite tall and easy to get lost in.
Even so, you knew where you were going. Your fingers lightly ran across the old book spines at your sides, mapping out your direction. Straight towards the fiction section.
A quiet sound that — unless unfamiliar — your brain would’ve tuned out, snaps your gaze up. A page somewhere had been flipped, heard from a couple paces in front of you.
It was Carl. You could see the shape of his hat silhouetted through the drapery and blankets encircling his little makeshift blanket fort. It had been tucked away in a corner, built around some chairs and carts he must’ve dragged around to make it all stand up.
It was sweet the way he held on to some traditions from when he was younger. Like finishing his greens before digging into the rest of his food during meals. Or reading bedtime stories to Judith, enjoying the book almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her at peace.
Not wanting to scare him, you gently knocked on the bookshelf closest to you, leaning against it in an attempt to look casual. He jumped, and shifted in what you now heard as pillows under his weight. The sunlight still poured through the window, and made the whole scene look almost ethereal.
After a long pause, he spoke aloud, somehow knowing it was you. “Come in.”
You hesitated, and leaned over in the fort’s direction, unsure if you should approach. You didn’t want to pressure him at all.
Suddenly, a hand popped out from behind some layers of blankets, beckoning you forward with a light yet commanding tone. “I said, come on in.”
As you cautiously walked forward, you then dipped your head in and surveyed the scene. It was surprisingly spacious for a blanket fort. Pillows and layers of soft blankets littered the small floor and Carl had propped himself up on his elbows, leaning over an unfamiliar Nightwing comic. He still hadn’t looked up from it.
You leaned in slightly, but still kept your distance, guesturing to the cover. “…Is that a new one?”
“No. I’ve had this one for a little while. Michonne picked it up for me.”
You pursed your lips. So he didn’t want to talk. You could work with that. “Carl, listen, I-“
“No, you listen.” Carl had closed the comic, ring finger tucked away inside it as a bookmark. He finally looked at you, blue eye digging into yours, rooting itself there. His voice was gentle and sincere. The more he talked though, the harder it was for him to coax the words out of his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking, right. I’ve been thinking for a while. Maybe too long-“
“Oh, you think?” You couldn’t help but cut him off. Your shoulders were getting tense, anticipating that he’d let you down, tell you he’d made a mistake, tell you it’s his fault, not yours. “It’s been nine and a half days since you last talked to me. Since you even looked at me.”
He slid his knees and sat up, back pressed against one of the chairs holding up the ceiling. A sliver of a hopeful smile wound itself onto his face, eyebrows raised.
“You’ve been keeping track?”
“Of course. What kind of person would I be if I’d just gone off and forgot about you?”
“You’d be an asshole, that’s what kind,” he smirked.
“Oh, ha-ha,” you teased back.
His small smile was now permanently glued to his face. “…Will you let me talk now?”
With a huff of your shoulders, you nodded, moving around to make yourself comfortable and propping yourself up on some pillows.
“Okay.” Carl closed his comic, and carefully slid it under a book cart hiding beside him. His good eye still hadn’t loosened up on you. “As I said, I’ve been thinking about some stuff for a while. Like, you and me stuff. Right?”
He looked as if he needed reassurance, then continued, his words speeding up as he continued talking.
“You’re really cool. And these past few months have actually been bearable with you around. I don’t feel alone anymore, and I love how you let me tell you about all the nerdy stuff I’m into, and I love how you go out on drives with me during runs, and I love how Judith likes you. Even my dad seems to, too, and that’s pretty difficult to achieve.”
Carl swallowed hard and looked away, his cheeks shining with warmth with the sunlight still streaming in through the walls.
“So I’ve been thinking. And of course, it’s all up to you; if not, that’s okay, we can stay friends, but if it’d be alright with you I would love to go out with you. I mean, as much as people can ‘go out’ these days. If you wanted to.”
You could feel your heart beating through your skull, Carl’s words bouncing around in your brain like a kid of caffeine. Was he really going to do this now? In his cute little blanket fort?
You had felt the same way about him too; Carl made the apocalypse feel more like an adventure.
It was a bit silly to think back on, but when you had first arrived at the prison, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him; he was kind to you, and the both of you had gotten along well right away. It was like you had known you would develop this new kind of feeling for him.
His looks didn’t hurt him either.
After blinking a couple times, you finally responded. “…Yeah. Yes, Carl, that would be amazing. I’ve thought about that for a long time, too. God, I wish you would have told me sooner instead of going off to brood like a-“
This time, it’s Carl’s turn to interrupt you. His hand had gently pulled you by your collar towards him and his lips were wrapped around yours. The kiss was quick and light, but even after he let go, you could still feel it on you.
Carl immediately backed up to give you space, stumbling on his words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should have asked- I am so sorry -“
You pulled him in again, repeating the same motion and shifting yourself to his side. It was easy to tell he was unsure of what to do, but he slowly melted into you, placing one hand under your jaw and around your neck while setting the other on the lower dip in your back.
The two of you moved with synced speed, moving closer to one another, hips grazing each other’s, warmth radiating in every direction. With every passing second, you could sense, you could feel that Carl was enjoying every second of it; the way your fingers had woven themselves through his hair, the fact that he had to prop himself up to keep his balance, how almost your entire weight was resting on him.
Carl pulled away to take a breath, his cheeks powdered a nice shade of pink-red that crawled down his neck and under his flannel shirt.
“…Wow.”
He looks good this way; a dazed little smile on his face, good eye still pinned to your face, then your torso, then your neck, then back up again.
You laughed at him, arms still wound around his neck. “Oh really? That’s what you have to say?
Carl’s face was now fully red. “I’ve never actually kissed someone before.”
“Well then, what do pretty boys like you do with their lives besides this?”
He immediately dove down into your shoulder, nestled there, hat folding in on itself, face growing warmer by the second. Just as you’re about to sweep his hair out of your face, his hands reached to brush your cheeks, holding your chin and looking up to meet your gaze.
Carl’s smile is more focused now, as if he’s thought of some sort of plan. “You’re turning a little pink.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
And then the two of you dive in again.