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What Ron really wanted to do right now was bury his face in his pillows and scream until the roiling combination of fluttery arousal and seething resentment was leeched from his body, unfortunately the object of his internal conflict just so happened to be laid out next to him, close enough that Ron could feel the heat of him against his side.
Carl of course was oblivious to Ron’s dilemma absorbed in whatever he had picked from the ever growing stack of comic books in the corner of his room.
The problem of course was that he liked Carl Grimes, he liked him a lot. He had the prettiest mouth and eyes that were so clear and blue Ron had found himself short of breath under his gaze more than once. And he was genuine and fun, hard as steel one second and polite and considerate the next.
Ron wanted to spend all his time with him, just listening to his voice, tasting his mouth. Pressing as close as Carl would let him get.
Actually he was probably already as close as Carl would let him get, he thought to himself frowning at the three inch stripe of bedspread that ran between them like a wall. This close, no closer.
Ron sighed a bit. Actually, this close was even probably pushing it with the way Carl was fidgeting uncomfortably.
Ron huffed as Carl shifted position for the fourth time in like two minutes, looking up from the comic book he wasn’t actually reading, “You know you don’t actually have to hang around if you don’t want to,” he said, “If you want to go meet Enid or whatever it’s fine.”
“What do you mean?”
“Enid,” Ron drawled, propping himself back up on his elbow, “You two have been pretty much attached at the hip for the last week or so.”
Carl winced, “I know. I, uh, I haven’t been around much. I’m sorry, I’m kind of a shitty friend, huh?”
“Nah, dude, it’s fine,” Ron lied, forcing his face into something he hoped resembled a smile, “I know I can’t really compete with a pretty girl.”
Carl pulled a face, “It’s not like that,” he protested, “We were just, going outside together. Watching each other’s back.”
Ron couldn’t hold back a snort of disbelief at that bullshit, “Whatever, say what you want, but I saw you kiss her.”
“On the cheek,” Carl shot back.
“Whatever,” Ron said again, turning back to his comic book in hopes that the discussion could be over, cause actually he really wanted to stop talking about it before he either heard or said something that he’d regret, “You can’t help who you like,” he muttered.
There was silence for a long moment and Ron could feel Carl’s eyes on him, assessing. Please don’t let him see, he thought to himself, that would just be beyond pathetic…
“For the record, I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Like Enid, well, not the way you mean anyway.”
Ron arched a sceptical brow, “Man, I’m telling you I saw you kiss her, you can just admit it. It’s fine. Just break it gently to Mikey, okay, you know he likes her too but he’s too shy to do anything about it. Can’t even be in a room alone with her.”
“And I’m telling you it’s not like that,” insisted Carl, nudging him with a knee. “Enid is just…easier to be around, sometimes. She gets it, how it’s hard to remember what it’s like to just be…I don’t know, normal.”
And even though that was true—and it was true, Ron really had no idea how Carl felt, didn’t get it at all actually, and he understood that that was the difference between someone who’d lived on the outside, and someone like him who’d basically been allowed to continue on as if the world hadn’t gone to shit four years ago—it still hurt to hear Carl say it so bluntly.
Like he was saying: I need her but I don’t need you, and actually my life would be simpler if you didn’t have all these expectations of me.
“Sorry, I know I don’t get it, I mean I know I can’t get it, so I guess you feel like you can’t talk about it or I don’t know, be at ease around me,” Ron said, not quite able to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“You didn’t,” Carl said, scrubbing a hand through his hair roughly. “You don’t. You never do, it’s not about you.”
“I get it already you don’t have to pretend like—”
Carl slapped a hand over his mouth, glaring down at him, “Shut up,” he said quietly, “Just let me talk okay, cause you think you get it but you don’t okay? It’s…Enid doesn’t have anyone here. Her family all died out there and she was never with any group until she came here. She’s friends with you guys but you—it’s hard to talk about out there with people who haven’t been out there. Not because we don’t want to exactly but because…if you haven’t been out there you don’t know, so you can’t see us the way we can see each other. It’s nice, to have another person look at you and not immediately know about the things you’ve seen and done. But it’s also hard because, you’re trying to remember what it was like before, how to act like you’re a proper kid. And you’re constantly waiting for the slip up that’s going to show everyone that you’re…different from them.”
Ron watched as Carl’s brows drew tightly together and his mouth curled up in a self-deprecating sneer, resisting the sudden urge to smooth that frown away.
“As nice as it is, to be seen as a good person, or just another kid, it’s comforting to have someone who can look at you. Know about all the bad things you’ve probably done, and why you did them, and have them still choose to hang around anyway,” Carl said more quietly, “I have my group. My dad. At the end of the day they all know everything, anyway. Enid didn’t have anyone like that before this, you know she’s staying with Olivia but they barely talk. Now she has me.”
And now of course Ron felt like a total asshole, and petty on top of that. And if resenting Enid and Carl for taking the comfort they needed from each other makes him a massive dick, only being able to let go of that resentment because she and Carl aren’t actually together like that probably makes him a total douchebag not to mention a shitty friend to the both of them.
“So, yeah, I don’t like her like that, okay?” Carl repeated, pushing down against Ron’s mouth to emphasize the point, “Besides, cheek kisses are for moms, aunts, sisters and old married couples, anyway.”
“Sorry,” offered Ron again, more sincerely and with the sheepish grin that had charmed him out of trouble a number of times, “I was just jealous, I guess, of how much time you were spending together.”
“It’s okay,” said Carl, giving him an apologetic nudge. Then, “Does Mikey really like Enid?”
“Didn’t you just say it wasn’t like that,” laughed Ron a little shakily.
“It isn’t I was just, I don’t know, curious I guess.”
“Mikey really, really likes Enid,” Ron admitted, even though Mikey had sworn him to secrecy, “He’s got this ten step plan for winning her over tacked up on his wall. Don’t tell Enid alright.”
“What’s step ten?” asked Carl.
“Kiss her and hope she’s feeling merciful enough not to deck him, basically.” Carl laughed a bit and Ron couldn’t help but grin in response, “It’s not a terrible plan,” he offered.
“You think?” asked Carl.
“Sure,” shrugged Ron, “I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”
Ron tried not to focus on the way that Carl was chewing on his lower lip as he mulled that over focussing instead on the stippled ceiling of his bedroom, and was therefore surprised when Carl cupped his face in both of his, cold, hands and said quietly, “Don’t deck me for this okay?”
Then, before Ron could even really process what was happening Carl was bending forward and drawing him up into a careful kiss—and pulling away before Ron even had a chance to close his eyes and savour it, his blue eyes flicking over his face as his teeth dug into his lower lip again.
“Holy shit,” breathed Ron, reaching up to tangle his hand in a fistful of Carl’s hair and drag him back down for a proper kiss, slotting his mouth around that gorgeously pouting lower lip like he’d fantasized about a hundred times.
Carl made a small noise, as their noses bumped and shifted above him tilting his head and leaning into the kiss, letting Ron work their mouths together in a slow sensual slide until they had to pull away to breathe.
“Holy shit,” Ron repeated, breathlessly, feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest with sheer joy. “Holy shit.”
Carl was looking down at him with something like wonder writ across his face, his lower lip now even more tantalizing, red and wet and slightly swollen. Ron really wanted to kiss him again.
So he did, dragging a pliant Carl down until there wasn’t an inch of space between them and grinning against his mouth. “We should tell Mikey his plan was a success.”
“Later,” admonished Carl, leaning in for another kiss.
“Yeah, alright.”