Hard Candy [Carl Grimes/The Walking Dead]

Know How I Feel

"Ugh!"

I throw down my controller in disgust. "You really do know how to fight undead."

We're playing multiplayer Plants Vs Zombies, me as zombies and him as plants. And he is truly kicking my ass.

"What can I say, when you've spent your childhood shooting guns and tossing knives around, you develop some very important life skills. Such as taking down anyone who dares to eat your plants!" He laughs.

I laugh too, only after he does and I know it's alright to. He's so great. So nice and funny. But there's an underlying sadness that I can hear whenever we talk about his past. So, we don't. We talk about anything else. Things we have in common, which turn out to be a lot, movies and TV we like, that sort of thing. I'm now just worried that he sees me as his best friend, which I'm nothing I'm complaining about, since I know I could be dead. But still. He's been so good to me. I really, really like him.

Patience is a virtue, I remind myself. You know what they say about friendships that turn to love; they always last the longest. Just gotta give it some time is all.

So for the next few days, I play video games with him and we read his comics together and we watch endless episodes of Futurama and Family Guy and we talk a lot. He takes my mind off of everything, which is great. Everyone can see we're friends, but can they sense something else? Adults seem to have a thing or that.

Of course, nighttime is a bit of a challenge. Since we've fallen into the habit of playing Xbox right before bed, everyone always comes upstairs just in time to see us walking... together... into my room, and some of them start chuckling, even though they know there is absolutely nothing to chuckle about. Carl is a perfect gentleman, actually. He always stays in his (well, my) bed and doesn't try anything, probably because we're both too tired to even talk. Sometimes I wish he would. Try something, I mean. But then again, how would I react?

Then of course, there's the issue with changing into pajamas. We decided that I would change in my room and Carl would change in the washroom. Unfortunately (or maybe it's not that unfortunate), the bathroom is right next to my room, and since we have thin walls, I can always very clearly hear Carl getting undressed. And to be honest, it kinda turns me on. Don't ask me why. Although I've come to wonder if Carl can hear me getting changed as clearly as I can him. I wonder if he listens intently too.

What can I say, I'm human.

It's now been about a week since he and the group has arrived. We had finished changing for bed when out of nowhere, he starts telling me more about his past during the apocalypse. I had been straightening out my blankets when he says, "Come here," and patted the spot on his bed next to him for me to sit down, like a father would to his young child. I move reluctantly over to him and raise an eyebrow, our main form of communication it seems.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "I guess now that we're officially friends, I can trust you," He says with that crooked grin of his. And thus story time begins.

He tells me about Sophia in the barn, Hershel decapitated by the Governor, Andrea dying at the hands of the Governor's "friend", having to shoot a reanimated Shane, and how he had indirectly killed Dale. He even tells me about his mom. I didn't ask him to, but he does. He tells me some pretty awful stuff. His mom had slept with his Rick's best friend, and they still don't know for sure who's child Judith is, not that anyone admits that or talks about it. That's unbelievable, I think to myself. Imagine never meeting your mom and not knowing for sure who your dad is.

He also goes on to describe Judith's birth in the jail they had taken refuge in at the time, which was being overrun by the walkers. He even told me about saying goodbye to his mom before ultimately putting her to rest. He had only been thirteen.

I listen intently. When he finishes, he seems to have gotten a huge load off his chest. I have never been trusted with such information in my life. The way Carl feels he can trust me with these awful events made me feel important and special. I ask him afterward why he had chosen to tell me these things, and he simply replies with, "You can relate. You actually know how I feel, and it helps to talk about these things with someone who knows what I'm going through. No one else in the group really knows."

He's right. I knew how it felt to lose so many people close to you.

After the sharing of secrets we're both rather tearful. Saying goodnight, we crawl into our beds with hearts that felt reasonably lighter.

At 2:51 am, Carl lets out a yell. I wake immediately and quickly snap on my bedside table light. Shielding my eyes, I peer up at him from my knees. "Are you alright, Carl?"

He sits up with a gasp. He turns to the door, as if to make sure no one was coming. "Shhh, you didn't wake anyone. But me," I say with a small smile. He doesn't smile back. He's still out of breath. As if noticing me there for the first time, he turns to me, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and shivering, but at the same time he's bathed in sweat. His T-shirt is damp with it.

"Bad dream?"

He slowly nods. "Yeah. My mom." His voice cracks, and it breaks my heart a little.

I nod. "Wait here."

I stand up and quietly make my way out the door. Careful not to make any noise, I tiptoe downstairs and quickly make some packaged Carnation hot chocolate. I retreat back upstairs, two mugs in my hands I make my way over to Carl and place one of the mugs in his trembling hands. "Thanks," He says, his voice returning to normal. "Don't mention it," I say softly. He looks at me in a way, not a lustful way but a certain way I can't quite decipher. It definitely means something, though. Isn't this a bit soon? I wonder. Although lets not jump to conclusions.

After we finish our drinks, I'm about to go back to my bed when he grabs my hand. I turn around and see his eyes are still shiny. He grips my hand as if it's a floater and he's stranded in the ocean.

I turn around. "Yeah?"

He looks at me shyly. "I shouldn't ask. Carol and my dad... would get pissed if she found out..."

Here comes. I brace myself. But he surprises me.

He takes a deep breath. "Can you lie with me? Just for a bit? M-my mom used to. I don't wanna cuddle... I mean, just next to me? Please? It's after dreams like these I can't really sleep... I mean I get scared... you don't have to though, but..."

He looks at me intently, lowering his chin, eyes peering somewhat meekly into mine, his cheeks deepening in colour. He bites his lower lip. For the first time since I've met him, he looks scared and utterly vulnerable.

How can I say no to that look?

Besides, this might be my chance to take things further. Not in "that sense" necessarily, but... to show him I'm there to him. In more ways than one.

I take a deep breath, then exhale. "Okay."

Looking relieved, he shifts over to give me room. Lifting up the duvet, I slide I'm next to him. He rolls on his side to give me more room, and seems to fall asleep within the next 20 seconds. Like the creeper I am, I watch him sleep. He's so incredible.

Eventually I curl up next to him, my head resting next to his shoulder, listening to his steady breathing, inhaling his scent. I could stay like this forever.

Finally, after what seems like forever, I fall into two things: sleep, and absolute, undeniable love.