"He burned your face." Carl stepped down each stair, looking at Dwight. There was barely any light in he staircase but most of the time, if someone was in there, they didn't want to be seen. This was the place to hide from Negan. To sneak around and talk. To just take a minute and breathe. Carl saw Dwight walk into thay staircase every day. He wanted to know why. Carl stepped down the last step, leaning against the railing. "What are you doing in here?"
Dwight jumped, ducking away and shaking his head. He was always on edge. Jumping when his name was called. Moving away from people when they got too close. Dwight still flinched at loud noises. Negan thought he had Dwight broke in, but Dwight was just a good actor. He moved away from Carl, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke filled the staircase, parts of it catching in the dim light. "You shouldn't be in here kid."
"I'm not a kid." Carl replied, simply. "And you know I'm not. No one's a kid in this world anymore." He stepped down the stairs and stood in front of Dwight, glancing at the door that sat on top of the third floor. Negan was on the first. They weren't in danger of getting caught. "He burned your face, to punish you." Carl moved closer, tilting Dwights head up. "I got scars too."
Dwight pulled away from Carl, stumbling back into the wall. "Carl." His voice was wavering. "Go back to your room, go anywhere but here. If Negan sees us he'll-"
"Burn you again?" Carl cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb against the ripples of scarred skin. "He won't catch us. He may be in charge, but I'm just as smart as he is, maybe even smarter." Carl dropped his hand, tilting his head to the side. "Do you think of me as just another wife? Just another pretty toy Negan has to play with?"
"He could catch us. Or someone else could. You need to go." Dwight looked at his feet, his hair falling across his scars. Dwight had flinched when Carl mentioned being burned again. Did Dwight stay awake the entire time the iron was burning his skin? Each time Carl leaned down, trying to catch Dwights eye, Dwight would turn away. He slipped the cigarette between his lips and looked above him.
"You're scared of me." Carl looked up at him, smiling. "A lot of people are. But I'm not a bad guy. I don't hurt people, not unless they hurt the people I love." Negan and Enid both feared Carl. It wouldn't be shocking if Dwight was scared of him. "Why won't you look at me? Is it because of Negan?"
"Yes." Dwight whispered. The cigarette was still pressed between his lips. "He would kill me if he knew I was alone with you. Doesn't matter the context, doesn't matter what we said or did, he would kill me." Dwight turned and looked at Carl, sighing. "Its best if we just don't talk. I was already on thin ice when I got you on the ground at gun point."
"You don't think he'll kill you. You think he'll burn you again. Mess up your face as punishment as if one half ruined isn't enough." The staircase fell silent, Carl raising his hands up and undoing his bandages. Unwrapping his head took some time, his hair getting in the way of each loop around his head. The bandages fell down to the ground as Carl brushed his hair from his eye. "I get what its like."
"I'm not gonna ask you again." Dwight knew he didn't have any control, but he didn't want to give in. He didn't want to admit him and Carl had common ground, because if he did, he would be admitting that the scars on his face tore him apart each and every day. He didn't want to admit that he cried and felt ugly and that there was no way he could make the scars go away. "Leave."
"I know how it feels." Carl grabbed Dwights hand and raised it up to his cheek. He pressed Dwights hand against his skin, letting his fingers brush across his scars and the bottom of his socket. "To hate what you see. To feel ugly and isolated. To want to just curl up and hide because you look like the monster you fight." Dwights hand was shaking against Carls skin. The man was so nervous. So afraid. "You aren't ugly, Dwight."
