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"Hair's gettin' long," Daryl said in the soft tone he always uses when talking to or about children, watching Carl look for something to eat.
Carl simply hummed in acknowledgment. Of course he knew his hair was getting long. Not only did he see it every day, he was also reminded of it's length whenever he decided not to wear his hat.
"Jessie cut your dad's hair. Sure she'd do yours," Daryl suggests, "'s almost coverin' your eyes."
"Yeah. Maybe," The teen muttered, and Daryl could tell he was upset.
"You good, kid?"
"Yeah. If you see my dad, can you tell him I'm with Ron?" Carl asked, abandoning his search for breakfast to slip on the flannel he'd left on table last night.
"Sure," agreed Daryl, eyeing the teen suspiciously.
Feeling Daryl's eyes on him, Carl hurried out of the kitchen. He slid his feet into his boots and promptly left the house.
When Carl arrived at Ron's house, he was greeted by a hug from his boyfriend. "You look cute without your hat. I can see your eyes better. You know, your hair's almost covering them. I could get my mom to trim it, if you want. Not right now, but, like, soon." Ron rambled as he led Carl up the stairs and into his bedroom.
Sighing softly, Carl sat back against the headboard of Ron's bed. "I'll think about it."
"She wouldn't take much off, if you don't want her to," Ron said, sitting next to Carl on the bed, "Just maybe a little off your bangs. Show your face a little more."
Carl shrugged, allowing Ron to take his hand and lace their fingers together, "I don't want a haircut. It's just- a thing. I don't know."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, looking at his boyfriend with concerned eyes.
"I- I don't know. It's kind of.. I don't want you to make fun of me," Carl sighed, avoiding Ron's gaze.
Frowning, Ron squeezed Carl's hand. "I won't, baby. If you don't want to tell me that's okay, but if you do, I promise I won't make fun of you."
"I'll tell you," Carl mumbled, looking down at their hands. This is something Carl never told anyone about, partly because he was embarrassed, and partly because it hurt to think about. "The last time I had my hair cut was just after all this started. My mom cut it. I remember that I was complaining about it, and Shane, my.. Dad's friend told me one day I'll be missing her haircuts. He was right. All my life my mom cut my hair for me. I don't want anyone else to do it. I know I'll have to have it cut eventually, but.. Not yet. I can't yet."
"Carl," Ron whispered, releasing the younger boy's hand. He slid his arm behind Carl, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him against his side. "I'm sorry. I understand. I won't mention it again."
"Thank you," Carl murmurs, leaning against Ron and closing his eyes.
"For what it's worth, I think you look good with long hair." Ron said, pressing a kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head.
Smiling, Carl wrapped an arm around Ron's stomach, hugging him tightly. "It's worth a lot. Thank you."
Ron grinned, squeezing Carl gently. "Aw. Of course. I love you, even with your long hair. I'd probably still love you without hair. Probably."
Carl rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. "I love you too, you ass."