Chapter Text
“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day...In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.”
-Anthon St. Maarten, Divine Living: The Essential Guide To Your True Destiny
“Dad, I’m off!” Carl calls into the dark hallway. He hears an incoherent answer from the far bedroom. Sighing, he walks out of the house, hearing the automatic lock click into place behind him.
When Rick had first gotten into the business, he was remarkably sharp and vigilant. Now, after a decade of balancing his work and his role as a husband and father, he lost most of his youth; his morals, also, had soften and his outlook had completely changed. His dedication, his insensitivity, to stay on top of his work and sacrifice all his time had cost him his marriage. His promotion to the managing director had been the last straw for Lori and she had left with their newborn baby.
The money was good and they were able to afford the luxuries that normal people weren’t able to have, but Carl never thought it was worth it. His father had done everything to keep the family together, but now all he wanted was for his dad to settle down. He wanted to spend more time with him like before, so he was content with waiting for his father to heal. For now.
All the money in the world wasn’t worth losing his father for. And Carl was definitely going to be there when his father needed him.
He takes the taxi to school that morning; Rick had dismissed the driver from his duties the night before. He was always careful at school, trying as hard as he could to fit in. Or at least he used to. School wasn’t a very pleasant place for him; the kids weren’t very pleasant to him. He got good grades because he didn’t want his parents to worry or pay too much attention to him.
Instead of shopping at designer stores like his peers, he prefered thrift stores and friendly private businesses. People judged his raggy and baggy clothes, but he liked the way they fit. They judged the way he stuttered in the limelight and called him weird behind his back. He avoided conversations if he could help it and when people began to realize they weren’t going to get much out of him, they stopped approaching him.
But Carl couldn’t give a damn about they way they acted around him. It didn’t feel as bad as it did before. By now he accepted the fact that he was an outcast, a lone fish in the middle of a moving mass of sea creatures.
The most troublesome factor in his life was his actual status in the world. As the son of one of the richest men in America and he was scared that would be the strongest hindrance to a normal life than anything else. At school, in public, anywhere without his family and friends, he hid and lied about his family situation, anything to get out of a sticky situation.
He didn’t tell anyone about his father’s declining business. Or the fact that he was always sleeping in class because company galas lasted until around two in the morning. Or that he was unable to finish homework because he was constantly being called to his father’s office to get an insider look on how things functioned. Or that he was terrified of business because of all the deception and blackmailing and bribery that dictated the field.
He was afraid that he’d be pushed even further into the outcasts’ abyss. For now he is content with the illusion of a normal life.
A block away from the school, Carl gets off the car and proceeds to walk the rest of the way. His head was in the clouds imagining the way things could have been if his mom hadn’t left. He might have played with Judith before school and actually have had a fresh homemade breakfast from Lori.
Stepping into the school, he makes sure to keep his head down, but knowing his luck, he’s immediately targeted by the group of football jocks. They hoot at him, tossing scraps of paper at him, forcing him to duck to avoid confrontation. When one of them “accidentally” shoves him a little too hard, Carl topples to the ground.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” One of them calls.
Carl gives them his nastiest glare. Turning around, he focuses on the so-called leader of the group, the captain of the football team: a blond haired, blue eyed boy who’s staring hungrily at him.
“What’s wrong, Grimes? Can’t get up?” He sneers, laughing senselessly with the other boys.
Pushing past them furiously, Carl speeds to the classroom without another word. Lord knows what he’d spew with his mouth if he let himself.
Once inside and out of immediate danger, he breathes heavily and bites down hard onto his knuckles to repress his anger. He doesn’t stop until the urge, to violently scratch up the boy’s face and punch until he feels the limp body body beneath him, diminishes. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin around his middle knuckle had split open cleanly.
Carl curses, sucking up the blood to get rid of any evidence of his rage.
He is once again composed when the day starts. He sits by the window, watching the birds fly by and the counting the red lights. The flourishing tree outside his homeroom waves back at him gently in the wind. It doesn’t take long before Carl dozes off.
After school, he ditches the bus and runs the few miles to the small park by a small corner market. He deposits his backpack in the bushes by the side of a bench far away from the main hangout zone and rushes back out into the street with only his phone and wallet. He takes his time walking to the downtown area, stopping by a music store to listen to some old vinyls.
He buys himself a lavish lunch, as he had barely eaten during school hours, choosing to find solitude in the library. Devouring his meal hungrily, he only pauses after he had stuffed half the burger and fries into his mouth. Sitting in a private booth facing the fading sun, he feels somewhat content. He doesn’t worry about homework or his father. Rick always came home late, and he could always finish his homework over the weekend.
Late summer days were his favorite.
He follows the crowds of people across another street and wanders into the open courtyards in the middle of the downtown area. He roams through flower beds and seeks comfort in the conformity of the waves of people.
Eventually, he realizes how late it’s gotten and decides that he should head home.
He takes the long way back; night time always made him bold.
When he turns the corner to his street, he notices that the house was still dark. It irked him a bit, seeing that his father wasn’t home yet, because he had gotten his hopes up again only to be faced with disappointment once again. He swallows thickly.
He dresses for the event first, picking out an older suit instead of his newly tailored one from the previous week. He waits for his dad to return, pacing back and forth along the polished hallways. It was getting awfully late. He didn’t want to have to spend any longer in the empty house.
After another anxious twenty minutes, Carl changes his outfit again, this time into a dark turtleneck and plaid pants. It was his favorite ensemble when he was younger when his mother and father were still together. Just as he was deciding whether to call into his dad’s office, the front door cracks open.
“Dad?!” he calls out, his anxiousness nearly bursting in his chest.
“Yeah, Carl,” comes the tired reply. “You ready?”
Hopping down the stairs two at a time, the boy rushes to his father, relief filtering through him.
“You look good, son,” Rick says, smiling, despite his fatigue. Carl hesitantly smiles back.
“Do we really have to go? You look beat, dad.” He longs to push the hair from his dad’s face, but he hasn’t been so familiar with Rick in so long. Instead, he steps into his shoes and leads the way to the garage.
The drive to the company gala is uncomfortably silent. Clearing his throat, Rick asks, “How was school today, Carl?”
“Fine,” came the automatic response, but with the clear indication from Rick’s nod to continue, Carl adds, “I hung out with a few friends after school today.”
Rick lightens up a bit at this.
“Good. That’s...real good,” he nods. “I was worried that...the company... this was holding you back from some things that teenagers usually get up to.”
The thought of his classmates suddenly sent a wave of panic through him. The idea of Rick finding out about everything at school scared him. “Dad, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not a kid anymore,” he blurts out, immediately ashamed of his lie.
Rick’s whole frame faltered. “I know, I know. I just want you to feel comfortable telling me things about you...like before.”
Carl burrows deeper into his seat, thinking back to the easier days with Lori and their old house. He had lost all of his friends around the time his mother’s affair had come to light. His baby sister was also taken away from him.
“Things can never go back to the way they were before,” he says quietly.
At this, Rick shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”
Carl knew they were both thinking about Lori. Rick had punished himself severely after he discovered that she had cheated on him. There was another man that she had turned to for comfort when things got tough with Rick’s work. Instead of helping him to endure the pain, Lori slipped into the bed of a business rival, Shane, and neglected her family. For that Carl hated her. There was even suspicion that Judith, his baby sister, wasn’t actually Rick’s.
He believed it, but his vulnerable and kind father had not pushed for a DNA test. He had accused Rick of being a coward, angry and jealous of his dad’s kindness but had immediately regretted it. Carl wasn’t like him; he would never be capable of the same forgiveness and compassion as Rick. He was just as cruel, if not more, as Lori. He was capable of destruction not of empathy.
XXXXX
He entertains the vipers, drinks the scorching alcohol, and avoids his father like a plague. He hopes he won’t encounter Shane through the entirety of the night. It seemed that luck was on his side tonight, because said man didn’t show. It was only a tiny reassurance but one that got him through the night without ending up over a toilet.
Part way through his conversation with an amorous politician, a hush falls over the room. Carl looks up with curious eyes and sees that some man had walked in and grabbed everyone’s attention. Huffing quietly, he turns to the refreshment bar.
It’s almost midnight when Carl is finally able to escape the talons of the businessmen and walk out into the cool night. He stands on the wide balcony, appreciating the glow of city lights and the hanging plants that resemble some ancient Roman hanging garden. Leaning his head down, he presses his flushed cheeks onto the cold marble.
The summer’s headiness lingers in the air, though making way for the autumn’s chill. Carl revels in the open air, not yet ready to head back inside to face the groping hands and guarded smiles. He’d much rather go home, spend some time with Judy, maybe even finish homework for once; lord knows he used to be a good student.
Just as he was about to go back in, someone steps out, shutting the balcony doors with a click. Carl frowns. Turning, he comes face to face with Philip Blake. He was the mastermind behind the Woodbury Corporations, a previously leading banking business.
Carl had a fling with him a while ago when the firm was still influential. He had ditched him when it began to degenerate, but it was like that for all of his men.
When his father’s influence began to decline, Carl couldn’t wait any longer. He made his first deal last year and the compromises began from there. The easiest and quickest way, he discovered, was to lay down a clean arrangement. He would spend time and maybe offer them a taste to get them investing and buying out his father’s deals. It was simple and entertaining money. There was no use in circling around exactly what he wanted and what his investors wanted.
“Mr. Blake,” Carl said, feigning innocence.
“Carl,” came the blunt reply.
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Carl felt annoyance bubbling inside. Why was he being so informal in such a public setting. He decided to quit his act. “What do you want?”
Philip blinked back surprise, regaining his composure instantly. “I’ve been thinking of you.”
“It was a one time deal,” he says sighing, already expecting the statement. “I made that extremely clear from the beginning. I got what I wanted and you got me. For one time . After that you don’t look at me, you don’t talk to me, and you go back to Mrs. Blake like nothing ever happened.”
“I can’t pretend anymore. I want you.” It was pathetic and Carl pushed past him.
He was shoved back the way he came from by a pair of heavy hands. “I always get what I want,” Philip said, his expression of congenitally gone. He jerked Carl towards him, hands groping.
This was another reason Carl had been so eager to leave this man. Philip was an incredibly violent man. Though he has a history of recorded benevolence, Carl had personal experience of his brutality.
He was rough from the beginning. When he had gripped Carl, his fingers would leave marks on his skin. Kissing him was like kissing a line of spikes; the brunette lips were often left bloody and raw and his tongue was sucked so hard, it felt almost about to be pulled out. When they had sex, Carl had torn. But he wasn’t afraid of him. The thought of his father ruined frightened him more.
Carl slammed his hand against the other man’s face, using all his anger to strengthen his blow. Philip staggered and fell against the railing. “Don’t touch me,” the boy hissed, eyes hard.
“You're making all the wrong decisions today, Carl.”
“No one likes a sore loser, Mr. Blake,” Carl snarled before briskly walking away. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, proud yet a bit intimidated by the lingering threat.
From the alcove of another higher balcony, there came a short laugh.
“I’ve got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!”
XXXXX
On Wednesday he walks into class, bored and dazed. Wednesdays were late start days; Carl’s classes began at nine so he was called to his dad’s office where he had to endure through a fews hours worth of conference. He was tired out of his mind.
He had his head on the table during third period, doing his best to filter out the sound of his teacher’s droning when the door suddenly bursts open. He curiously looks over and is surprised by the newcomer. He sees the school counselor and the vice-principal standing timidly by the door.
Swaggering in proudly, flanked by two men, was an extremely tall man with a clean cut beard and a dark grey three piece suit. He stood and surveyed the classroom like he owned the place. The moment his eyes landed on Carl, a shit-eating grin spread on his face. Two dimples dipped into his cheeks, making him seem almost comical, but Carl thought his smile was wolfish, his eyes predatorial.
“ There’s my boy! ”
Carl flinches as the loud and hearty voice reaches his ears. Before he could comprehend the situation, the stranger was in front of him, arms raised as if he were expecting a hug. Making no move, the boy shoots a dead look at the man. There was no way in hell that Carl would ever voluntarily make acquaintance with a dangerous man like him.
“Aww c’mon! You don’t recognize me?” The man asks, his lips drooping to form an absurd frown. “Well, I was thinking of you all through the fucking weekend. You, with your sexy-ass body and perky ass. You looked good the other night in that slinky little outfit.”
Blanching at his words, Carl nearly panics. What the hell was this person talking about? How in the world did he know about his nights out? Was he someone from work? The idea that his long held secrecy could be ripped apart at any time was killing him. “Who the hell are you?” he whispers, glancing around at the awestruck faces around him.
Enid, Carl’s previous crush, was glaring at the man with an open frown. Ron, his old friend, was staring at him suspiciously.
A look of surprise replaced the smile. “...You really don’t know, huh? Well, shit , that ruins my whole entrance. I sure know a lot ‘bout you, baby. About your daddy, your promising interest in the family business, and your investment in-ah- deals so to speak.”
“Who the hell are you?” Carl asks again, this time with anger. The same panic he felt when his father had questioned him about school washed through him like a wave.
“Woah, woah, woah . Do not use that tone of voice with me, kid,” tsks the stranger. “I’m the Negan your daddy’s probably pissing his pants about.”
Negan. The name set off a memory in him. Something his dad had mentioned about a rival in the industry, a young entrepreneur that was swallowing big companies in record time. Carl already had a negative bias towards him, like the others who competed with his father.
Next to him, Carl’s trembling home room teacher rises from her seat. She makes a move to get between the stranger and the boy, but Negan cuts her off with the wag of a finger. “Uh uh, baby. You stop right there, turn around, and take your sweet pussy back into that chair, okay?”
She gives a frantic glance over at the principle who is shaking his head. Carl sees the steel set in her jaw and opens his mouth to warn her. But she speaks first, “I don’t know who you are and what you’re here for, but Carl is obviously not-“
She is cut off but Negan’s short snap. “Shut up, sweetheart.” He glares her down with sharp eyes, though his smile was ever present. It was more shark-like now, full and clipped. Carl felt his heart sink at her useless attempt. “I thought I mentioned I was here for the kid! Does it have anything to do with you? I don’t fucking think so. So get your ass on the goddamn chair and stay the fuck down, understand cupcake?”
He then turns back to the brunette, smile like a tattoo on his lips.
“Did that name trigger anything in you, baby?”
“No. Don’t call me that.”
Negan laughs. “Why so cold, sweetheart?”
“What do you want?”
“Right to the point, ok.” he snapped, the sound making Carl jump slightly in his chair. “I wanna make a deal with you.”
“Why would I make a deal with you ?”
Negan towers over him, eyebrows wiggling.
“I saw what you did the other night with that nasty ass excuse of a man. And I liked your radass, badass, sexy-ass attitude okay? It turned me on and I do not want to leave my balls blue when I can get some!”
There was a snicker of disbelief from somewhere behind him. Carl felt his face turn red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chokes out, certain that the ‘nasty ass excuse of a man’ was Philip Blake.
“I like your spunk!”
“Quit bullshitting,” Carl spits, standing up like he wasn’t daunted.
“Honestly, I have never met anyone like you. Living a double life, alternating between the good student and the cheeky faunlet when it gets dark. I fucking love it!” Carl glared up at him.
“What’s your damn point?”
“Well, kid. What I’m trying to point out is that we both have a role in this. You’re the upstanding son trying to help out his dear old dad’s business and I’m acting as the good samaritan who’s about to give you the deal of a lifetime!”
“What are you talking about?” Carl asked confused and growing angry.
“Look, kid,” Negan says. “You want the deal and I want you. You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want. Quid pro quo , baby. Even steven.”
At Carl’s skeptical look, the man continues. “I’m a pretty generous guy. So I’m offering a quarter of my earnings,” he finished with a shimmy of hands.
Now Negan had piqued Carl's interest.
“A quarter of you earnings?” Carl monotoned.
“A quarter of my earnings is enough to ensure that you and dear old daddy will never have to work a day in your snug life again. So long as the deal continues. This ain’t some one time deal like the other johns.”
The man had obviously spent time on his life, digging into his deals and situation. The thought of him knowing the private sides of his life scared him. He couldn’t lie anymore, especially in the light of a deal that could really help to benefit his father’s condition. “You want me to just take your word for it?” Carl smirked. “How do I know if you’ll keep your side of the bargain?”
“Well, it’ll depend on your, say, performance in things.” Negan raises an eyebrow and smiles widely. It was intended to scare him, Carl knew, but he remained impassive. He squares up to the man, stepping so close, their chests were almost brushing.
“How about fuck you ?”
A hint of anger sparked in Negan’s dark eyes, and Carl resisted the urge to lick his dry lips. This man was dangerous. There was only so much bite he could manage before the flames licked up to meet him and then there would be no way to back out.
“I ain’t gonna lie, you scare the shit outta me!” Negan exclaimed loudly. “Isn’t he impressive?” he asked the class, gesturing at the boy. “I am truly invested in you, kid! How can I prove that, huh? What the fuck do you want?”
Carl ignores the heat on his cheeks and ears. “I don’t think you can convince me so just drop it.”
“Oh, you are wrong on that! I know so much about you baby, I can even recall some ‘Paul Rovia.’”
Carl never knew believed that hearts could drop, but in that moment his heart did. Cold tinges spread from his fingers up his arms. He couldn’t even speak.
“Guessing from your reaction, you know exactly who the fuck I’m talking about.”
“Leave him alone please,” Carl breathes, his voice hitching an octave higher in desperation.
“Now you’re being polite. We almost had to wash your mouth out with soap, didn’t we Dwight?” Negan grins, tapping one of his men on the chest with a heavy hand.
“You really seemed to like that guy. Wasn’t he your teacher or something? Ain’t that disgusting ?”
“Stop. Please .” Carl was begging, but he couldn’t care. He didn’t want the man to taint someone with cruel words when he probably didn’t even understand the situation. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“I think I got it alright,” Negan’s voice was cold. “You got yourself some teacher dick when you were still growing hair. Couldn’t that land him in jail?” Carl was crying now. He hadn’t even realized it.
“You don’t know shit,” he grits his teeth, furious at himself for crying and furious with Negan.
Immediately the cold voice softened. “Oh, damn. Look...holy shit, kid. I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget you’re just a kid. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.” He sighs, eyebrows creased up in concern. “I was just screwing around-”
“Just forget it.”
Negan seemed to want to say something else but another man knocks on the classroom door and interrupts him. “Sir, we need to move your car.”
“Goddamn! Forget it; we’re leaving soon anyways.” Negan bends down and falls on one knee in front of the boy. “Look, kid. I’m fucking serious about the deal. And I know you need it. I’m not going to just quit it.”
“No deal,” Carl whispers, stubbornly, keeping his eyes down.
Negan sighed again, this time with disappointment. “...then I’ll see you later.” He leaves and no one speaks.
Just as the teacher was about to say something, Carl snatches up his backpack and scrambles out of the room. He pushes past his worried counselor and brushes his principal’s hand away and runs and runs without direction, past the gates and past his house. He doesn’t stop until the urge to vomit takes over. He spews his breakfast into the dry plants by the side of a road. Using his nails, he claws violently at his skin, ripping flesh and feeling the tingles on his arms. And then he continues to walk slowly.
When it got dark, Carl didn’t even think to go home. How could he go to school after that?
He was mortified, knowing that news travelled extremely fast in such a small town. He shouldn’t have admitted to the accusations so easily. He should feigned innocence. Now he ruined everything. The best thing to do now was hide the day’s events from his dad.
“What the fuck did you do, Carl?” he asks himself.
How did Negan even know about Paul anyways. God, Paul. It felt like so long ago when he met him.
He pulls up his contacts and dials Tara’s number.
“Hello, Carl?”
“Hey, Tara, I need you to give me a run down of this guy.”
He gets home sometime after eleven.
No car in the driveway- like usual.
XXXXX
He skips school the next day and day after that and the week after that. He calls in sick for his job at the local corner store. Rick doesn’t notice, not because he was neglecting his son, but because he was just too occupied. Phone calls from the school were directed to the corporation’s front desk where it was picked up by Tara. She was too lenient to scold Carl and was too gentle to force him to go.
They agreed years ago that all school matters were to be kept away from his dad. He pays her for her services with a bag of lifesavers from the convenience store he worked at every Wednesday and Saturday.
Carl did a lot of walking the next week. He liked to travel from his house to a more secluded area of the town where the trees shot to the sky. There he could hide in his thoughts, days slipping away quickly as he daydreamed.
On slower evenings, he would slip his feet into a pond deep in the woods. The meadow that it rested on had a perfect view of the setting sun and on most days, he would stay until the sky turned pink. Quiet days were really the best; he was always looking forward to them.
It was no different the next thursday when he orders a pizza.
“That’ll be 12.99,” the pizza boy says with a large grin on his face. Carl fishes out his wallet and shoves another five dollar bill in the stack he hands over. All the while, making sure his long sleeved shirt covered his scars. He fumbles under the kind gaze, nearly dropping the box when it is passed over.
Ignoring the awkward flounder, the guy tips his familiar red and orange hat; Carl had grown used to seeing him. “Rad hair, dude,” the pizza boy says before walking back to the old, beaten up Toyota Camry. Carl liked him.
When he finishes his second slice, his phone dings. Looking down at the bright screen, he sees a text.
Carl, are you okay?
It was from Enid. He glances at the clock and sees it is almost fourth period. She was texting him in class.
He throws it at the pillows and ignores it as it slides down into a crack.
The weather today was exceptionally pretty and clean. His feet take him automatically out the door and onto the street.
He walks for a while, relishing in the warm August sun. Nature had a healing effect on him. It was better for him than any person and mother nature seemed to reciprocate his feelings because animals seemed to always find him and the wind blew whenever he needed it; the soothing breeze had long been a source of relief.
The boy walks around aimlessly for another block or so. He hadn’t realized he was nearing a crossroad when suddenly the sound of tires screeching filled his ears.
Carl twisted his body in order to avoid impact, but he lost his balance and skidded to the ground. Pain shoots up his legs. He is sure his skin was scraped raw and he didn’t want to look down because he knew there would be blood.
“Shit!”
The door to the driver’s seat bangs open. Blinking up at the sun, the boy finds himself slumped in front Negan.
“Oh my god!” Carl rolls his eyes. Anyone else would have been fine. Just not him.
“Damn! Carl?”
The boy snarls, still filled with anger at the remembrance of their previous conversation. “How dare you run into me?”
“How dare you run into the street without fucking lookin’ around first?”
Huffing, Carl turns to examine his leg. With the initial anger of seeing the man fading, Carl begins to feel pain stab down his leg. Flinching at the sight of blood, Carl blanches. Tsking, Negan peels off his flannel, squats down, and presses his shirt to the long scratch. He was wearing a black tee underneath.
Carl attempts to resist, jerking his limb away, only to gasp out from the pain. Negan is smiling with tongue between teeth. His hands are stained red by the blood and the boy feels a twinge of guilt. Before he could protest, Negan gets up.
“Get in the truck,” the man says.
“No way,” Carl blurts out.
“Get in the truck or I’ll run you over.”
As Negan drove, Carl fidgeted uncomfortably, holding the shirt tight against his leg. The pain had reduced to a light throbbing.
“You gonna tell me where you’re going, kid?”
“Kiss my ass!”
Negan smirked. “You’ll let me?”
“You are such a creep,” Carl huffed, giving up.
After a minute he lets curiosity get better of him. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the park.”
“Why?”
“To get ice cream.”
“I don’t want it!” Carl was acting like a kid, but he couldn’t care. The faster he got away from this man, the better. The thought of him hobbling down the street brought up a flush to his cheeks. His neck felt hot and the car was suddenly stifling. It’s not like he can kidnap you , the boy thinks. He shakes that thought away.
“I want it,” was the curt reply.
Humming with irritation, the brunette lets out a growl and slides down the chair. Negan was smirking like a madman. They pull into the parking lot of the park and step out of the car. Carl hobbles out and Negan rushes over to him, but the boy pushes him away roughly.
He finds a spot on a shaded bench beneath a tree. Negan tells him to stay put and hops over to some ice cream vendor.
Carl sits with his face down, berating himself for his stupidity. Just as he was considering running away, a soft serve vanilla ice cream was thrust under his chin.
“One ice cream for a sulking kid.”
“Screw you,” Carl says, but quickly shoves the dessert into his mouth. He gets it all over his lips and savors the cool pulse down his throat. He barely registers the soft chuckling.
When he opens his eyes, Negan was gesturing at his chin with dabbing motions.
Embarrassed, Carl snatches a hand full of napkins and wipes away the mess.
“Sorry about your leg, kid.”
“Whatever. Wasn’t really your fault anyways.” Carl hesitantly mutters.
They eat in silence. Negan was strangely quiet. The boy wonders if the way he had acted was just for show when there was an audience. He knew men like that, who had one act in public and another for private. Maybe Negan saved his intimate act for home.
He wondered what they looked like to others. A small boy with a giant scratch, clutching a soaked flannel and a much older man with bloody hands and a dirty shirt. He started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. They looked like they crawled out of some alternative apocalypse world.
If anyone told him a week ago he’d be sitting and eating next to a powerful, shady man, he would have told them to fuck off.
“This is so fucked up.”
Negan was laughing with him to. “It is, ain’t it?”
They gradually stop their hysteric fit and the man perks up. “Are you in trouble with your teachers? Did I get you in trouble the other day?” Carl snorts.
“They probably pissed their pants when you told my teacher to shut up. I don’t think they’ll even mention you again.”
“Typical,” Negan sighs. “Who gives two shits about high school anyways? They’ll get the fuck over it.” The boy couldn’t help but agree. He knows that there might be some attention on him for a while, but he was already the odd man out, right? What harm could a little more dirt on him do?
“What am I even doing here with you?” he asked no one in particular.
“The deal is still on the table, baby. I still want you to take it.”
Carl stopped smiling. “I don’t have a choice do I?”
Negan shakes his head. “I can’t wait on you forever, baby. Sooner or later I’ll lose my patience and you’ll hate me for what I’m gonna do to you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I know you’re still mad at me, but I not the kind of man who would force you to...do shit you don’t want,” his eyes were not unkind. Carl wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I don’t even know you,” he whispers, lying.
“I want you to.”
The drive back was quiet. Both thinking of their uncertain future. Carl didn’t want to take the deal and Negan didn’t push him again.
XXXXX
“Dad?” Carl asked when they were finally alone. It was a clear friday night. The boy and his father were attending a gala event hosted by one of their clients.
“What is it, boy?” Rick put his drink down.
The brunette knows he should ask about Negan and his connection to the man, but instead he says, “How’s work?”
“Well ya know. Same old, same old. Things have been rocking lately, but I’m sure stuff’ll smooth out soon.”
“Dad, you don’t have to push yourself so hard, okay?”
“What’s this?” his father scrutinizes the boy’s face with a pleased face. “Worried about your old man?” When Carl laughs, Rick reaches up to ruffle his hair like he did when Carl was just a boy. He couldn’t bring himself to ask in a moment like this.
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