It was dark outside and most of the chatter that echoed throughout the Sanctuary had died down. People were retiring to their rooms and the shift change was beginning. Some walked out, still in a half asleep daze from waking up and eating dinner while others walked inside in a exhausted trance. Negan was already in bed, his clothes from the day in a pile on the floor. Sheets laid across him, the cloth covering up everything from the waist down. Only one lamp remained on in the room and that was because of Carl.
"Are you gonna come to bed or what?" Negan turned his head to the side and looked at Carl who had already shrugged off his flannel and kicked off his boots. His sheriff hat sat on the night stand next to the lamp. "You taking your sweet time for a reason?"
"I'm changing." Carl whispered, pulling off his shirt. He made sure to fold it and lay it with his pants on the chair near the bed. "If you're so tired go to sleep." He grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. He knelt down next to his bag and dug around in it before pulling out a plastic bag and walking towards the door. Negan stopped him before he could make it out.
"Watcha doing?" Negan rolled onto his side and eyed Carl like he was an open book. And Carl was, but most of his pages were missing while others didn't tell the truth. Carl was easy to read. But that didn't mean what they were reading was the real thing. "You going to get high or something?" He chuckled. "Kid, you don't gotta hide from me. I doubt whatever you're doing doesn't need to be hidden."
Carl looked down at the bandages in the plastic bag. He chewed on his inner cheek and kept his eyes trained on each of the fibers that made up the cloth. "I..." He swallowed the lump in his throat, nearly choking. "I need to wrap my eye again. Clean it some, too. Nothing big." He forced a smile while fear rushed through his veins.
They hadn't talked about his socket since the day Carl snuck in. Carl thought about iy though. Each time he passed a mirror he remembered the vile things Negan said. The truth. Lori always said behind every joke was the truth. Negan may have been busting his balls, messing with him like he was one of the guys, but he was also saying things he thought.
Negan didn't blame Carl for covering it up. He thought it was disgusting and gross. That didn't surprise, Carl. He hated the socket. For weeks he kept all mirrors covered. It wasn't painful because it came from Negan either. They weren't dating yet. The reason it hurt was because someone said it to him. Carl didn't doubt that people saw it and were disgusted. But he never had someone look at him and say it.
"Why do you need to leave to do that? You can do it in here. I got mirrors." Negan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked towards the dresser that stood tall in his room. He moved a few things off and kicked a trash can towards the front of it. "You've been staying. Might as well make yourself at home, right?" Negan was bad at social cues. Very, very bad. "Kid, you're staring at me like I lost my damn mind."
It was just hard for Carl to believe Negan didn't remember. Every time Carl saw himself he heard those words. Disgusting and gross. He repeated them to himself like a song. Like a punishment. Carl smiled at him, leaning against the wall, fidgeting with the bag. "No, I mean, yeah, I should make myself at home but this stuff its..." It scares people. Its disgusting and gross and horrifying. Every time people see it they act like hes a freakshow. He looks like the things they kill. "Personal."
"Personal?" Negan laughed. Deep and loud. His chest vibrated dramatically from the laughter. Negan was always much more dramatic than he needed to be. Michonne says Negan acts dramatic and loud because he used to not be heard. Thats why hes power hungry and adores the people that bend to his will and bow down. "Carl, a few hours ago I had you bent over with my dick in your ass. I think seeing a socket is a lot less personal than fucking."
