Sage ➸ Carl Grimes

21 ➸ thread

{Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots}
Sage

My small hands were rummaging through our backpacks, looking for a clean and covering shirt. I grunted a few annoyed sighs as I continued to pull out shirts tattered in dead blood and hardship soot. I tossed the dirty clothes of Carl Grimes and I to the wooden floors beneath me, desperate to cover my near naked body.

Considering the circumstances of what happened last night, I was left in my undergarments and didn't want one of the Bishop's walking in on me in that condition. I already humiliated myself enough with Samantha at the bonfire. I let them see the savage that I am break and crumble. I let Sam win. I gave her the benefit.

Pulling out one of Carl's flannels, I smiled to myself. It was surprisingly clean, but yet smelled of earth. I clutched it into my hands and slid it through my arms, beginning to button it up to hide my bareness.

The plaid article of clothing was his signature look, with a sheriff hat topped onto his head and a pistol wedged between his large hands. I knew that my love was delicate with me, but we used to be enemies. He never let his guard down with me. He didn't trust me, and I never imagined I would ever be able to trust him.

It was always hard to trust someone who didn't trust themselves.

[Who remembers when Carl was a deranged little dickhead. A hot one, might I add.

Keep in mind that Carl Grimes is still who he was in the beginning of this book. He hasn't changed into anybody but Sage's love. He trusts her and that is it. Expect to see more of his insanity return throughout this book.]

I heard Carl stir in his sleep and I didn't gather the time to find a pair of pants as his eyes flickered open. His face was sunken deep down within the white pillows, his brown hair tousled into a mess and his blue eyes having to blink to adjust to the bright, morning sun cascading his face. He muttered my name a few times and turned his body around, his eyes scanning the room until he found me. Carl instantly smiled sheepishly.

"Sleep well, Sheriff?" I laughed, setting down our single backpack of dirty clothes and standing up.

"Like a damn baby," Carl flaunted, a smirk tying his lips like thread.

"Get out of bed. It's nine."

"That's early, babe."

[Tru.]

"Well you might want to get some pants on or something. Do you want Mason to walk in with you like that?"

"I'm sure he would," Carl muttered under his breath, sitting upward on the bed. He leaned over he side of the bed, and with the comforters covering him, he retrieved his boxers from the floor and slid them on from under. I caught myself watching him do so, and though I couldn't see anything, I flinched away and blushed.

I felt rude for laughing softly at that, and Carl sent me a wink to hear my response. With his boxers finally on from last night, he stepped onto the wooden floorboards and stretched out his bare, tense biceps tiredly.

"Are you suggesting Mason's gay?" I laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"No, of course not. I'm suggesting I'm hot," Carl stated as if it were a known fact, shrugging his shoulders. I rolled my eyes at him and he began to chuckle deeply. "I'm kidding. Maybe I just get a little jealous of him."