𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐑𝐚𝐫𝐥

6

Carl knocked on the bathroom door. "Dad? Are you home?" Carl mumbled through the door. there was a silent pause. "Yeah. . . Yeah, son. Don't come in 'm naked." A voice yelled out from inside, it sounded rather odd. Carl brushed it off. Maybe Rick was a little sick or something.

"Yeah." Carl hummed under his breath as he walked over to the doorframe of his room, leaning into it with his forehead. His fist banged against the doorframe aggressively as he let out an annoyed groan. "Stupid." He mumbled softly under his breath, twisting so the back of his head was leaned against the wall. "So fucking stupid." He spoke louder, banging the back of his head against the wall two times before sliding down to sit on his ass.

Carl took a deep breath, everything felt so weird. Especially when he saw Ron after all these years. Carl had gotten to good terms with the fact that he was dead, but now it was just revealed that he in fact, was alive. All the fucked-up things Ron had said to him back then, yet it was so easy to fall for him. And now the fucker was back? Who knows what type of a guy he was now, perhaps he changed? Maybe not. Carl was hoping he had, and the change would have been for the better. Yet, he hoped Ron would leave him alone, since Carl clearly didn't want to have anything to do with him.

Carl shook his head once more. "It's so fucking stupid." He mumbled; he couldn't talk to the guy. He's supposed to be mad at him, Ron took his eye out. Carl should hate him. And he would, he's not going to talk to him, because if he does, he might fall for him again. And that cannot happen again. "Man up, be straight." Carl told himself, even if he didn't give a single fuck about what gender he liked, but Ron was just difficult. . . He was homophobic and just a prick, and an idiot, he wasn't smart, nether was he strong. That's why Carl won't be dealing with a crush again. Unless it's on someone other than Ron Anderson. Enough said.

The brunette boy stood up and picked up the sheriff hat he always wore from the ground. He made his way into his room fully and grabbed bandages to wrap around his eye, even if Rick had begun telling him how he should stop since it's a waste of bandages. And he was kind of right.

Right then the door opened up, and Carl immediately knew his dad was ready showering. "Hey dad!" He said as he stepped out of his room, but to his surprise it wasn't his dad, no. There, right in front of Carl stood the exact guy he had been thinking off, Ron Anderson. He had cut his mullet, and shaven the hilarious mustache he had. Now he looked like a teenager again, even if he was only about twenty or something like that. . . Either way he was in his early twenties. 

Carl felt like a teenager again, staring at the guy in front of him in shock. "What the hell are you doing out of the cell?" He asked, and Ron shrugged. 

"You threw the keys on the floor so I thought I might as well use them and go get myself a nice shower." Ron grinned slightly, holding back laughter. "Oh, yeah. And I cut my hair. And shaved the mustache." Ron corrected himself, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't give a shit about your mustache. And you clearly didn't get your mom's skill in hair cutting." Carl almost laughed at the insult. "Ether way the only thing I care about is you being out of the cell."

"Sure, I just answered what I was doing." Ron sighed. "You asked." He explained, and Carl rolled his eyes. "Yeah, come with me I'm getting you back into the cell." He bossed. "Yes-sir." Ron hummed, as Carl grabbed his hands from behind tightly. "And you're wearing my clothes." He said quietly, thinking Ron didn't hear him. "Yeah, sorry." Ron sighed. "I just picked out something random." 

Carl didn't say anything, he just pushed Ron forwards, towards the exit of the house. "Look man, I'm really sorry about the eye." Ron mumbled. "Rookie mistake, next time I'll-" He started but got cut off. "You're not funny Anderson. You're just cruel." Carl told him, and Ron shut up for a few seconds.