ꜰᴏᴏʟ'ꜱ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ || ᴛᴡᴅ

038: ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇꜱ

INSINUATION OF SA! PLEASE SKIP IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE 

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Rick's new job, along with Michonne, was being cops. Sami was glad his was different.

His job wasn't to teach the children, since they already had a teacher for that. His was to write the material for them to work off of. They were just parents, reading from school books in a garage. 

Sinead was happy to be with him again, though she didn't act like his other friends. She always walked so close that their arms were hitting, showed up at the house to 'hang out' with him, once he finished work. She acted like she did when they were dating, aside from the kissing and cuddling, though she was getting close with the latter. 

Sami didn't know how to feel about it. They'd broken up. He'd made sure they left it on good terms, even though he never knew why they broke up. But they'd broken up, bottom line. So, why was she acting like they hadn't? Why was she acting like they were together? Or was he looking too into it? And just being plain dumb, and far up his own ass?

Getting use to life behind walls was hard, anyway. But now, remembering who he was, thanks to seeing Sinead, was freaking him out.

And she could tell. So, she'd ask about it. But he wasn't going to tell her.

The Sami she knew was a 22 year old, fresh out of a relationship with a grown-ass-woman, and freaking out because of life. They'd made it work for two and a half years. He was plainly kind. He'd help people just on the street who needed it. People at shelters knew him by name, from his volunteering, and children at school went to him instead of the counselor about problems they had. He had two rabbits, several teddies in his room, wore his Dad's shirts, and got up early every morning to watch the sunrise at the beach with his coffee, not matter the weather.

Now, he was 25. He hadn't dated anyone since her, but had an entire family, and his best friends who he'd killed for. He had a little brother. He was always frightened of making the wrong call. He tried to help, tried to be good, but still assumed the worst of people and prepared for it. He hadn't seen any children aside from Carl, Danny and Rachel. He had a dog who he'd almost killed by having no food, and then made it eat it's own species. He had given his one teddy to his best friend, and strung a man up in the woods, carefully so he'd stay alive, because he'd hurt Carl. He hated heat. He hardly slept. The only thing he had of his father was his rosary beads.

But he wasn't about to tell her all of that. She seemed to think he was still the same.

He wondered what she'd done. She looked similar, but there was a certain tightness to her face. not that he'd judge her for it. But he was curious. Where was her Dad?

She just wasn't like she used to be. He wasn't, either. But there was just something . . . different. He didn't like it at all.

He had just been to get more paper from the pantry, where she worked. It seemed they kept everything in there. He'd been writing out curriculum, and Deanna had gotten some of the parents to write out what their children were like, so that he could cater it to them if they needed it. At least half of the children were neurodivergent, and were getting in trouble for falling behind, so he'd come up with different plans for each to help them. He wondered if they'd actually listen to any of it.

That's what Carol was hearing about, as she stood with a group of women on a porch, listening to them.

"I swear, I've never seen Adam add one plus one." One of the mothers laughed, and the others followed. "But now? Place those beads in front of him, and he's doing it all himself."