Carl had always had a thing for older men. It started out innocent with Shane. The man protected his mom and him when the world went to shit. He was strong and smart and he adored Carl. He couldn't help it that he had a crush on Shane. He wanted to impress him and seem strong, so he did almost everything Shane did. He learned how to use a gun and how to fight, all in the name of impressing Shane.
His next crush was Daryl. Daryl was more closed off than Shane, which Carl didn't even know was possible. He was stronger than Shane and much more smart. Daryl knew how to hunt and to fight and he was more loyal than words could describe. When Carls mom died Daryl was there. Hugging him even though Daryl despised hugs. He even taught Carl how to use his crossbow. Daryl was one of the most handsome men Carl had ever seen.
Next was Glenn. Glenn wasn't like Shane or Daryl. He was sweeter. Whenever Carl was sad Glenn would check on him. He was caring and kind and he would always look out for Carl. While the others taught Carl out to survive the fight, Glenn taught Carl how to cope with it. That it was okay to be mad and to be frustrated and scared. A few times Carl even slipped into the bed beside Glenn, when Maggie was gone. He was always a little jealous of her.
Jesus was the first man Carl had a chance with. Carl was seventeen, barely eighteen, and Jesus was young and gay. Carl tried his best to flirt. Follow him around and ask him about things Carl really didn't care about, but it was nice to hear Jesus talk. Jesus reminded Carl of Glenn. He taught Carl that killing didn't have to be the way. That you could be kind and spare lives but still be strong and in control.
Those crushes made sense. They were men that protected Carl and helped raise him when Rick was gone or hurt or busy making sure their entire group didn't get murdered. But this crush, this crush was sick, it made Carl feel sick. Ever since he first laid eyes on this man he was angry. It wasn't soft and shy like it was with Daryl and Shane. It wasn't sweaty palms and blushing cheeks like it was with Glenn and Jesus. This crush wasn't a cute little thing. It was deadly and Carl hated himself for it.
The minute Negan walked out Carl knew he was screwed. He had a thing for power and a thing for men twice his age. Negans leather caught in the moonlight and the barbed wire on his bat was tempting. Carl liked the bat. It was smart, creative. Part of him wanted to rip it from Negans grip and kill something with it. It didn't even have to be a zombie. It just had to be something living. That's when Carl knew something was really wrong. His old crushes would bring blushing cheeks and butterflies in his stomach. This one, though, this one brought out a dark hunger Carl had fought to contain.
The way he walked, looking down at everyone as if he was better than them. The way he spoke, dragging out words in his delicious deep voice. Carl couldn't help but stare, Negan didn't seem to mind it, though. The man ate up attention, positive or negative. He loved control, knowing everyone feared him. Part of Carl wondered what it would be like to have that control. To know what its like to have everyone on their knees in front of him. Shaking. Begging. It sounded kind of amazing. His father was never the leader, not like this.
Carl was trembling, nails digging into the denim that covered his thighs. As Negan spoke Carl watched him. He studied the way he walked, the way he carried his bat, and the way be faced only the men as he spoke. Threats poured out of his mouth and Carl could feel the darkness creeping out of him. The urge to have power. The want to control. The idea of killing for punishment. Rick was always too nice to do it, but ever since Carl was a kid he wanted to kill. Ever since his dad hid that evil man in the barn. Some things couldn't be fixed without death, no matter how many times Jesus had told him different.
Licking his lips, Carl fell back on his heels, still studying the man. He made his way towards Carl, smirking. He waved the bat in front of Carls face. Instead of planning his escape, though, Carls fingers itched to reach out and touch it. To slid his fingers across the smooth wood and trace the rows of barbed wire that curved around the bat. Negan began to speak, kneeling down in front of Carl. He could feel the eyes of his friends, of his father, watching him now. He couldn't give in. Not yet. Carl stared at him with a blank expression. His nerves screamed.
