Chapter Text
Ron knows he shouldn't be surprised by how strange Carl is. He grew up outside the walls, he's been out there for years just surviving with this group that Deanna decided to bring in. He knows he shouldn't be surprised that Carl hasn't said a word to him in weeks in the rare moments they see each other, or that he never meets his eyes. Ron doesn't think he's heard Carl talk ever.
Ron assumes it's a trauma response to something that happened out there. But he doesn't know what, and he doesn't care to know. The Grimes family are a thorn in his side that's pricking him every second of every day. Really. He doesn't care. He doesn't care that Carl sneaks outside the walls at least twice a week with Enid to do God knows what in the woods. He doesn't care that one of the only other kids his age refuses to speak to him or even acknowledge that he exists.
But he's just... odd. He would rather spend time with his baby sister than with other teens his own age. Ron doesn't know where he is all the time, but he knows if Carl isn't following his dad or Glenn around like a lost puppy dog he's on a blanket in his front yard with Judith, on days when the sun beats down on them. Ron will walk down the street more than he needs to on those days, because Carl is an anomaly. He talks to Judith, but it's so low Ron has never heard it, Ron watches them out of the corner of his eyes, but Carl just reads books or comics and plays with Judith.
When he isn't doing that Carl is going on runs with his dad, because he is actually allowed to do that. Because Carl is allowed to carry his own gun and knife and just keep them on him at all times for his own safety. He's fifteen and allowed to hold a gun, while Ron's mom gets nervous if he holds a kitchen knife too close to his fingers when he's chopping vegetables.
Carl goes on runs and comes back smiling like it was fun, he comes back with boxes of food and supplies, and one time with a huge box of guns he and his dad pulled in with a rope cause it was that heavy. He's always so fucking lucky, and too goddamn proud.
Ron remembers the first night they officially met at the welcome party Deanna hosted. All of his little crew were acting nervous and suspicious, all huddled together in small groups and talking amongst themselves instead of getting to know all the new people. Ron can't blame them, he hates most of these people too. But Rick was going around, a hand on Carl's shoulder and showing off his kids to anyone that would listen.
Carl just played with Judith almost mindlessly while his dad talked about him above his head, only sending glares toward his father when he said something embarrassing and shoving him when something wasn't true, he never even spoke. Ron had gone up to him when Carl went to the snack table, and asked him his name. Carl had looked at him, and his stupid brown hair was flicking up everywhere like he hadn't even bothered to brush it before coming here, and Carl looked panicked for a moment, before turning around and leaving. He just flat-out ignored him.
Carl went home early that night, and Rick said he was just having a hard time adjusting to the new place and all the new people, and then Rick went home shortly after. He didn't see Carl again for a day and a half.
He doesn't admit that he had already known Carl's name. He was just trying to be friendly. Maybe some part of him had wanted to be friends with Carl, but he had just ignored him completely. Whatever. Ron was fine with it. He didn't care whether Carl liked him or not.
Two days after the welcoming party he gets the door in the morning when Maggie and Glenn knock on it, offering up a casserole they made, a welcoming gift. Maggie says she made it but his mom takes one bite and says that it had to have been Carol. Ron doesn't even know who that is, and he doesn't care.
His mom had a bruise that morning on her jaw that she couldn't fix with makeup. Ron tries not to think about his dad down the hall, in the empty bedroom with a bottle of something, so drunk off his ass he doesn't even remember hitting her, and Ron tries not to think about how much he wants to strangle him.
His mom tells him he can take the day off school if he delivers a pie to the Grimes house. Ron doesn't know if he hates school or that family more, but he grabs the mixed berry pie and stomps down to the Grimes's house. Daryl is leaving when he approaches, and glares at Ron as he does. Ron hates him too now.
He knocks on the door, and waits until he hears Rick Grimes yell, "Come in!" So he just opens the door and lets himself in. It's almost the exact same as his house, just flipped to the opposite side, but he can see straight into the kitchen, and Carl's staring right at him. Carl furrows his brow when he sees him, and Ron notices a tablet sitting next to him propped up like he was watching a video. The Grimes family is having waffles and eggs this morning.
Rick comes out of the dining room and sees Ron, looking at him all confused before he sees the pie.
"Ah, your mom said something about making a pie, Michonne made something for her too, come here." Rick is leading him down the hall to the dining room, and he can see more into it now, he can see Carl's baby sister Judith in her high chair, eating and throwing mixed berries and chunks of waffle at her brother. Carl and Rick both don't seem to find this an issue. Michonne is at the counter in the kitchen pouring what looks like orange juice.
Ron's family couldn't even pretend to be this normal. This happy. His mom tries, and they play pretend for the other people, she calls them her boys and smiles so brightly her foundation cracks when people ask her how she's doing. But inside they don't have family breakfasts, Ron just holes himself up in his room if he's even awake at breakfast time, his dad drunk on the couch or the spare room, his brother at school, and his mom anywhere but the house to forget everything that's wrong with her family. To forget that she has the power to change it. He tries not to resent her for it. He tries not to resent the Grimes for being perfect. He fails at both.
"Ron, good morning, did your mom make the pie?" Michonne asked him. He knew the people Carl came with were all close like family, but he didn't realize Michonne was close enough to the Grimes to have breakfast with them, to be standing in her pajamas in their house. To be living with them.
"Yeah. Mixed berries. Raspberries and blueberries and some others. She had to run so I brought it." Ron's used to this. Lying. He lies to everyone, all the time. He says his mom is sick when really her eye is so bruised she can't see out of it. He says he is okay when people ask him.
"I bet it'll be delicious. Tell her thank you. Do you want to sit down for breakfast?" Michonne asks kindly. Ron's immediate reaction is to say no, but then Judith gurgles something behind him and Carl does this breathless sorta laugh that makes Ron forget how to breathe for a moment, then he's saying yes before he can help it, and sitting before he realizes what's he's doing.
Sitting right across from Carl, who got another sunny-side-up egg on his plate and two more waffles. Ron asks for two waffles and one egg from Rick if he doesn't mind, and Rick jokes that he made enough to feed an army, to take as much as he wants.
Ron takes two waffles, an egg, and a handful of berries. Carl waves at him and Ron almost choked on a blueberry. But he still doesn't say anything. Is he deaf or something? Ron doesn't know sign language.
Rick and Michonne both sit down too, continuing their breakfasts and laughing when Judith throws another berry on the floor. Ron looks at Carl again to see that Carl is already looking at him, and then they're both looking down at their plates of eggs. Ron doesn't think Carl will ignore him if his dad is there.
"Carl, are you coming to school?" Ron asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He looks up again, and Carl is thinking for a moment before he slowly shakes his head at Ron. Then he presses a button on his tablet.
"Maybe." A robotic voice says. Ron doesn't know what to say for a moment, but the whole room feels tense with an energy that he doesn't quite understand, and Ron doesn't exactly feel welcome anymore. It feels like when his dad starts to get drunk, where he knows that one wrong move or one rude word will get him hit. Where he knows one snide remark will get him beat until he passes out.
Rick is glaring at him, he can feel it burning the side of his skull. Ron swallows a piece of egg.
"Lucky guy. My mom wants me to take more classes." Ron tries to lighten the mood, and the burning on the side of his skull goes away, and the tense aura is dropped almost immediately after, the whole room seemed to let out a breath like he had just beat a game he didn't know he was playing.
Carl types something one-handed on his tablet. "School was never really my thing. I like patrolling." The robotic voice says again, and Ron nods in understanding.
"School isn't exactly my thing either. I would rather patrol too." He says quietly, he realizes he's almost done with his meal. But he wants to stay, he wants to ask more. We're his vocal cords broken? Was he really deaf? No. Ron knows he's not deaf, he can hear Ron perfectly fine, it's just the whole voice thing he has trouble with.
Carl doesn't use his tablet for the rest of breakfast, he gets up without out excusing himself which would get Ron yelled at on a good day and picks up his hat from a hook, grabs a small bag, and leaves without a word. Michonne sends a questioning glance to Rick.
"Glenn. He's taking him out on a run with Rosita." Michonne nods, and suddenly he's gone from the table just as quickly as he came. Excusing himself and leaving after thanking them for the breakfast. He won't admit it to himself, but he follows Carl out to the wall, and watches him give Glenn a bro hug and Rosita a fist bump before loading up the car with his bag, then Carl is glancing back at him again, eyes shocked for a moment before he smiles and waves at him. Ron can't quite smile, but he waves back.
It's not until he's already inside and hears his dad screaming that he realizes he forgot to ask Michonne to return the pie dish. It doesn't really matter. It'll be traded around town and find its way back to them eventually. Ron's dad screams again. There's a loud thump from upstairs and Ron squeezes his eyes shut like if he can't see anything it'll all go away.
He thinks of the peace at a Grimes family breakfast, how much he hates them for being happy, how much he hates himself for hating them. He thinks of Carl beaming at him, of Carl going on runs and shooting down walkers as he hears his dad land another punch. Ron realizes he would rather be out there fighting the undead than in his own home. But he knows he can't, he can't even protect his own mother. How will he ever be able to protect himself out there? To protect the town.
His feet carry him upstairs before he can help it, and carries him to his parent's bedroom. He swings the door open, and his dad is on top of her, clawing and pawing at her like he's trying to devour her, like those monsters outside the walls. But Ron thinks he might be worse, he's worse than those mindless creatures, because when Ron sees walkers there's no light in their eyes, no recognition, but when his dad snaps up to look at him, to yell at him to get out, Ron sees that light, that recognition, that life. He doesn't know if he says anything, but his mouth moves.
Ron swings with all his might, and sends his father to the floor when his fist connects with his face, he hears his hand snap and pop, and his mom is gasping on the bed as she hastily pulls her clothes in order. Then his dad is on top of him, he's on the floor, and his dad is punching him, then he's standing and kicking, and Ron doesn't really remember much else after that.
His mom says he has to take time off school, that he has to heal. But Ron doesn't care. It's been two days, his face is still yellow and blue and bruised but their doctor said he would be fine. Bruised ribs, they hurt so bad he can't raise his arms. His mom doesn't care. Not enough. If she cared he would be gone. He hates her and himself for hating her. He hates his dad more. He also loves his dad, and his mom. But he also knows that he can't keep letting this happen, for himself, for her, for Sam.
His mom tells him to stay home, but Ron gets up the second she leaves and crawls out his window as he does in the middle of the night when the screaming matches get too loud, and realizes it's a lot harder to climb down the trellis with bruised ribs.
He goes out the front door.
He walks down to the Grimes family home, and no one's on the porch this time to glare at him, and he raises his arm to knock despite it hurting, and knocks on the door. Rick yells again to come in, and Ron fumbles with the door to get in.
Carl is sitting at the table again. Just eggs today, but he can see his jaw drop in surprise. He looks horrified when he sees Ron, and for a moment, just a mere second, that hurts more than the bruises on his ribs.
"What, Carl?" And Rick is up and looking down the hall, at Ron. He assumes he looks a little worse for wear. His hand is bandaged because he apparently doesn't know how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb, and his face is ugly purple and yellow by now with all his bruises. His eye is swollen shut and the other has stitches.
"Jesus Christ, Ron. What the hell happened?" Rick rushes him to sit down at the table. Michonne barely hides her gasp. Ron thinks for a moment that this must be what it's like to have a good family. A happy one. One that cares. A dad that loves you. He wonders why he never got this, why he never deserved love like this.
His lip is busted in two different spots. He speaks anyway.
"I need you to teach me how to throw a punch." Ron raps. His voice is hoarse from misuse. He hasn't been talking to his mom since it happened. He wonders if Carl's voice will sound this raspy whenever he talks. Ron wants to hear it, he thinks Carl would have a nice voice.
"What? Ron, why?"
"'Cus my dads a dick." Ron spits out, and the whole room seems to freeze.
"Your dad did this to you?" Rick looks almost disgusted. That's not the looks Ron is used to. When he told Enid she reacted with total indifference, said it sucked, and that her bedroom window was always open if he needed a friend.
"I punched him first," Ron mumbled. He didn't realize Carl had left until he comes back, with even more supplies that their doctor didn't have. He knew they were hoarding supplies, that they were keeping secrets, he can't even bring himself to care as Carl runs some sort of gel on his eye.
"It'll help it heal," Michonne explains quickly, she's looking down at him, Ron can't see very well, but she looks almost concerned for him.
"Doesn't matter if you punched your dad first. He did this to you. That's not acceptable. Why did you punch him?" Rick demanded, and Carl stops rubbing the gel on his eye and pulls away. Ron misses his touch. He smelt like the lavender shampoo they all use here. It smells different on him. Ron thinks his dad gave him a concussion.
"He was hurting my mom," Ron mumbles. "That's why I need you to teach me how to hurt him back. I broke my thumb trying." He holds up his hand for emphasis, the bandage is peeling at the ends, but they don't have enough to keep up with how often you should change the bandages.
Rick looks conflicted for a moment, he and Michonne are sharing a silent conversation in a way that only adults can do, and Ron looks at Carl, hoping maybe they can do the same. Carl won't meet his eye, he fidgets with his fingers anxiously, going from tapping them on the table to cracking them until his knuckles pop to just weaving them through each other without really thinking about it. Ron can't stop staring at his hands.
"I'll deal with your dad Ron." He had almost forgotten Rick and Michonne were in the room, he looks back at Rick, his eyes burning.
"Are you going to kill him?" He asks quietly.
"If it gets to that point." Ron doesn't know how to respond to that. It's his dad. He taught him how to ride a bike, how to barbecue, and swing a bat, he took him to the comic book store on Wednesdays after school and would kiss his head before bed, and said he did a good job at school. Now he's the man that abuses his mom and little brother, who hits him, who yells at him for crying because boys shouldn't do that.
He's the same guy that beat him so bad after he told him he was gay that he didn't leave the house for almost two weeks. He never said those words again. He threw himself at Enid and Angela until Angela died and Enid said she wasn't interested. Then he cried in an empty house so he could assure his father wouldn't hear him.
He thinks of his mom on the floor, of all the screaming and the blood and the bandages, the bruises they all have like matching tattoos. He thinks of the Grimes family at the breakfast table, laughing with each other and being happy. Thinks of coming home to his dad shouting stuff at him.
His eyes burn into the wood grain table.
"Do whatever you want with him. I'm tired of being afraid. I want to... I want to not be afraid anymore." Ron whispers quietly. It's a secret. Something he would never say to his mom or Enid or Mikey. So he doesn't know why he's saying it now.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, it's Carl, who looks rather awkward as he looks down at Ron, who brings his other hand down and grabs his upper arm. He's actually making eye contact now as Ron stares at him. He thinks maybe they're having a conversation like Rick and Michonne were. That Carl is telling him it'll be okay.
It doesn't feel like it. But maybe it could be.
Ron doesn't know the fate of his dad. He didn't want to be there when the whole town decided what was to happen to him. The people he had spent years with choosing if his dad lived, died, got sent out the wall, or if they should start a prison system.
But his dad never came back. His mom didn't talk about it. She took off her ring, she went by her maiden name again. Suddenly he was Ron Hale again. They were the Hales again. His stuff was moved out and all bottles of alcohol that he had been hoarding were gone, donated to the pantry. Ron felt like he could breathe again. He knew his life wouldn't be fixed just because his dad was gone now, but some part of him had hoped.
He wasn't fixed. There were still days when he couldn't bare to get out his bed, where his anger festered and built so much that he felt crazy and just laid in bed all day feeling like he was on fire until he cooled down.
Three weeks after his dad died Rick invited him to learn to shoot. Ron went, and half expected Carl to be there, in his stupid little sheriff's hat that he always wears. He wasn't there, and Rick taught him all the things about a gun.
They went over the proper way to hold it, and how to be safe with a gun, how the safety works and how to turn it off and on, that the safety should always be on at all times, and if he's storing it to leave it unloaded.
Rick teaches him how to shoot it too, they hit cans on wooden stumps littered with bullet holes and Ron hits his first can on the second try. He feels almost powerful as the can dings and the gunshot rings out.
It's after they're done that Rick slides down against a house and makes Ron join him.
"Carl's worried about you." Ron freezes. He doesn't feel safe, despite the gun at his side. He feels like his whole chest is caving in on him.
"He... wants to be your friend." Rick continues on a bit awkwardly. Ron doesn't really know how to respond to that. "He's never met someone his age, not since after this all started. But Carl's not like the rest of you."
"He doesn't talk." Ron blurts out, then feels his face heat up involuntarily.
"Kind of. He talks around family. Where he feels more comfortable. But... he's autistic. You know what that means kid?"
But Ron doesn't even really care about any of that. "Do you have permission to be telling me this?" He doesn't want to hear it if it doesn't come from Carl. He doesn't know why.
"Yes," Rick says simply, and he looks almost bewildered at the question, like he's surprised Ron would ever think that he would just run around telling people private stuff about his son. Ron thinks of his dad telling his friends he came out as queer, thinks of the dirty looks they still give him. Alexandria is a safe haven, until it's not.
"I know what it means. Kinda. Kid in school had it." Ron tries to piece it together in his brain. All the threads are quickly connecting.
"Okay. Well, Carl. He's not verbal most of the time, but he talks in other ways. He's got his tablet, as you saw-" Ron thinks of the tense energy at the table when Carl used it, the way Rick had glared at him, he was waiting for Ron to say something disrespectful. Ron had passed the invisible test.
"He uses it sometimes. But he just prefers not to talk at all. He has other ways of speaking." Carl, tugging on his dad's sleeve at that party to go home, to tell him he was going to the snack table. The way he hugged Glenn in greeting before they went on a run. Things he had never quite noticed.
"Thanks, Mr. Grimes. Your son is pretty cool." Rick smiles at him, and that feels like enough for the time being.
The next time he sees Carl he's doing what he's always doing. Carl is lounging in the front yard of his house in the middle of the day, reading a book on some quilt on the grass. He trimmed his hair back a few days ago, and it brushed the base of his neck. He's lost in his book and Ron thinks he could just keep staring forever. But Rick and Michonne are both on the swing set on the porch and they've spotted him, so now he has to do something.
That something is apparently sitting down next to Carl on his blanket like it's the most normal thing ever. Carl panics and looks up at him, he tosses his headphones on the quilt, and they're still blasting music, Ron picks them up and holds them to his head.
"Nice. I love Pierce the veil." He says, and Carl smiles, quickly turning the music off. Carl doesn't have his tablet, so Ron doesn't exactly know how this will work.
"Are they your favorite?" He asks, and Carl nods quickly, then gestures to Ron. "My favorite? Hm. They're not an emo band or anything, but I really like Miniature Tigers. I don't really listen to music much anymore." Carl frowns so deeply Ron almost laughs.
"Where'd you get your CD pack, and all the CDS?" Ron asks, Carl points to his dad, and he smiles at the pair when he notices.
"Nice. No one here seems to realize how much fun we could have if we stopped raiding gas stations and started raiding the fun places. Like record stores and comic book stores." Carl nods enthusiastically, then claps his hands.
He stares down at them as if they've betrayed him, then looks up at Ron, and tells him to hold on with one finger, before running into the house, and running out with his tablet. Ron beams.
Carl sits back down and quickly types.
"I could take you on a run. With my dad, to a music store. He said he would take me on Thursday." The robotic voice says. Ron has come to associate it with Carl, but he itches to hear the boy's voice, but this is enough, and some sappy part of Ron thinks it could always be enough if Carl really couldn't talk.
"If your dad would take me, I'd love to. We could find new bands together." He doesn't realize how close they've leaned together until his forehead bumps Carl's.
"I'm sure he would say yes." The robotic voice chimes in, and then they're both smiling at each other. Yeah, this could always be enough.
Days go by, and the both of them do nothing but talk to each other. Ron shows him his bedroom and Carl fawns over his comic collection, tells him all about the way he used to collect before the apocalypse but it's long gone by now. He thumbs through Ron's records and picks The Pixies one, and they blast it until they couldn't hear each other if they tried to talk, and just spent the afternoon together.
Ron eats breakfast with the Grimes two mornings, waffles and eggs with berries again. It's so normal it could make him cry, stupidly enough. Carl shows him his room, where he has a bookshelf of worn paperbacks. He tells him some have been with him since before the apocalypse, some are from the prison he used to live at, and some of the kid's books used to belong to a friend of his, and now he reads them to Judith, even if she couldn't understand yet.
They share earbuds and listen to Carl's CDS on his bed in silence, they stare at the ceiling and at each other since there isn't that far to go. He smiles so hard his jaw hurts when he's home, and Carl keeps flapping his hands at his sides, and Ron tries not to find it cute.
The more he talks to Carl, learns his non-verbal cues and his voice through the tablet, he realizes Carl isn't really that shy. He's kind of a bitch. Even without the robotic tone of the tablet. He's sarcastic and funny and even a little mean sometimes, but never to Ron.
Carl sometimes got embarrassed when he did certain things, when he rocked back and forth during music or flapped his hands, but Ron just told him not to worry about it. Because really, he didn't care. He just wanted Carl to be comfortable. He hoped he was.
Carl shows him that his dad is building a tree house in their backyard by the fence outside, and that with the treehouse Carl will be able to get over the wall quicker, when Ron asks why his dad would ever allow that Carl says it's an escape route, hidden by a tree house. Ron doesn't think that's the entire truth, but it doesn't matter.
Rick lets him help build it, he joins their little family in the backyard and listens to Rick's instructions on where the boards go and the proper way to hammer the nails in. Michonne and Judith play with baby toys on a blanket in the grass, sipping lemonade with raspberries in them. Carl sits on the fence high above them, watching as his dad and friend build the treehouse in a content silence.
Wednesday night after the sun goes down and Ron had joined the Grimes for dinner Carl takes him outside and they lay out on the blanket and stare at the stars while they listen to music from Carl's CD player. It should be so boring, to stare into the dark looking at balls of gas, not saying anything, but Ron had never felt more content in his life.
They both end up falling asleep out there, listening to something Ron can't even remember. His mom comes over and has to shake him awake and he reluctantly goes home with her, not without hugging Carl tightly. He looked adorable that night, his hair was sticking up everywhere and his face was bright red from the cold, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
Rick had led him inside and when Ron came through he saw them both passed out on the couch with Judith between them, just staring at him. He didn't really like kids, but Judith was a nice one, and he gave her a high five and she giggled, then he went home and dreamed of sleeping under the stars with Carl every night.
On Thursday afternoon Rick brings them to the fence and they both get in the back. He doesn't know how they both decided to do that instead of one of them taking the front, but Rick just smiles and drives off, the two of them sharing earbuds all the way to the music store.
When they get to a small store not three miles away, Rick helps them scan the place for walkers, and when he decides it's clear, lets them go off on their own. There are no lights and they're both shining flashlights everywhere, but it's fun. They pick our records and CDs for each other that they think the other would like, and Carl scrunches up his nose at some upbeat pop album Ron gives him as a joke.
Ron checks the back of the store too, for all the stuff they never unloaded, and finds a bag of joints stored between two stacks of records, and he laughs until Carl comes to join him. Ron shines his light on the bag to show it off, and Carl tilts his head in confusion at him.
"Weed, dude. It's weed. Makes you feel all floaty and like, a lot less anxious." He explains. He shoves the baggie into his backpack, and Carl rocks back and forth on his feet. Not anxiously, just as he always does, he wrings his hands together and his flashlight flashes all over the room.
"We can try it if you want? Later obviously." Carl nods, and Ron smiles again. He's always smiling around Carl these days. He makes him smile. Just thinking about him makes Ron perk up. He's had fewer bad days than good, because he finally feels like he has something to look forward to. He finally feels like he has something that makes him happy.
He knows he's lucky. He's been in Alexandria since almost the start. He doesn't know the outside world like Carl does. But being trapped in the walls is a different kind of torture. It's just other adults, he has two other kids his age and nowhere to go. They never let him leave, and with his dad, sometimes the safe haven felt more like a prison.
But Carl makes it feel less so. His dad is gone and his mom is happy, his brother is bouncy again, and Ron can lift his arms up again, and Carl is always smiling at him and laughing with him and mouthing words at him.
Ron suddenly feels a lot of things, his flashlight pointed just by Carl's head so he doesn't blind him with the lights. It illuminates one side of his pale freckled skin, and it's taking everything in Ron to not caress his skin, to not hold the side of his face in his hands and kiss him until he can't breathe. He doesn't think he's allowed, and he definitely knows he doesn't deserve it.
He wraps his arms around Carl's waist instead, hugs him close to his chest, and shoves his head in the junction between his shoulder and neck. Carl is stiff for a moment, before relaxing into him, wrapping his arms around him too, the smaller boy rubbing his head against the side of his. Ron is bent down a little awkwardly to hug him like this, but it feels nice, it feels safe in a way Ron can't get enough of. He thinks he always wants to be here, in Carl's arms.
"Thank you," Ron whispers harshly. "For being such a good friend." It feels like an admission of weakness, but he pushes through his dad's voice in his head, and just holds Carl tighter.
"You're a good friend too," Carl murmurs right into his ear, low and almost husky. Ron feels his entire body seize up. He's imagined hearing Carl's voice a hundred times before, imagined how deep or high it would be, his pitch, but somehow this is better than anything in his imagination. Carl feels tense in his arms, so Ron squeezes tighter, trying not to show how excited he is to hear him.
They pull back eventually, after what feels like hours in each other's arms, Ron's back pops when he straightens up and Carl giggles at it, making Ron laugh too. But they're so close, and Ron is almost a head taller than him, Carl's craning his neck up to look at him and they're just staring at each other. It feels hot in the room, as Ron's eyes trail all over Carl's face, the freckles across his face and his wispy eyelashes, his pink-bitten lips.
His eyes stop on his lips, he can't do anything but stare at his lips, and he's leaning in, and Carl is still just looking up at him, their faces are so close that he can practically feel him.
"Boys!" It's Rick, and the moment bursts between them, and they both stumble apart from each other, staring at each other with wide eyes and shaky hands.
"We gotta go soon! We wanna be back before dark!" Rick yells. Ron yells back that they're almost done, and opens the back room door, then leaves. He leaves Carl behind in there and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He feels unsteady, nervous, and jittery. He grabs the CDs and records they had picked out and shoved them in a basket he finds on the floor, he grabs another one and leaves it for Carl on the counter.
He doesn't know what he'll do when he sees Carl again, so he ducks behind the counter and looks for anything mildly interesting. He doesn't find much, stuff that was probably meant to be picked up later by people who never got the chance. He stays down there as he hears Carl rustling around.
Then Carl is leaning over the counter, looking down at him with an arched brow. Ron smiles shakily and hastily gets up, joining Carl on the other side, they're both holding baskets full of CDs and records and refuse to look at each other.
Carl turns to him abruptly, leaning up just a little, and presses his lips to Ron's cheek. Ron freezes, then Carl is running off, laughing as he goes. Ron runs after him quickly, and they both burst into the sunlight of the outside, laughing loudly. Ron doesn't even take a second to process what exactly happened, and he doesn't even care, he'll take it as it is, take whatever Carl will give him.
Rick is leaning against the car, smiling at the both of them, Carl sets his basket down to hug him when they get to the car, and Rick ruffles his hair and kisses the crown of his head absentmindedly. It's such a routine for them that he doesn't even think about it, it's muscle memory. If Carl is gone for more than an hour Rick is gonna hug him and then ruffle his hair. Ron can't think of the last time he hugged his mom, let alone his dad.
"Get good stuff?" Rick asks, he grabs Carl's basket and gets into the front seat as Carl nods enthusiastically. The two teens get into the back together as they did before, but this time they don't share earbuds, they just rest against the seats, staring at each other and the basket between them that makes Ron feel like he's a hundred miles away from Carl.
He wants to hold his hand, but Rick is right there, and he remembers how his own father had reacted, and clenches his fists so hard he thinks his nails might be drawing blood from his palms. He knows that Rick isn't a bad guy, he doesn't care about Aaron, or Tara, and Rosita. But it's always different when it's your own kid. His dad pretended to put up with Aaron too.
But some part of him can't help but worry. He doesn't want to lose what the Grimes family has given him. He doesn't want to lose the breakfasts and Rick teaching him how to throw a punch just in case, he doesn't want to lose painting with Judith on the porch or listening to Michonne tell stories. He doesn't want to lose whatever feeling he had that day he helped Rick build a tree house.
He realizes it's domesticity. He doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose this feeling of family the Grimes had given him. He hadn't had it for long, this happy family sort of dynamic, but he doesn't think he would know how to live without it. So he doesn't do anything, he doesn't kiss Carl or reach for his hand, in fact, he closes his eyes and pretends Carl isn't there on the way back.
But he can feel Carl's eyes on him, and he loves the feeling as much as he hates it. He can't act on whatever it is he feels for Carl out of his own fear of rejection from a family that isn't even his.
They don't talk much when they get back to Alexandria, but he and Carl eat dinner and Ron says his mom probably wants him home. It's a lie. She said he could stay the night if he wanted, and God did he want, but he can't have it. He needs a break before returning back to them. He spends the night trying to convince himself that what he has now is enough. That this friendship he has with Carl is enough, that he's happy not kissing him if it means he gets whatever love the Grimes want to give him.
He falls asleep knowing it'll never be enough, but that he'll take whatever he can get anyways.
Two weeks later the Grimes family and him eat waffles in the shapes of stars with melons and scrambled eggs this time. They all seem to be in a great mood despite the early hour, and even Judith isn't throwing food like she normally does.
Carl is practically vibrating in his seat excitedly. Ron has noticed that Carl doesn't really smile when he's happy about something, he can look wholly indifferent to something but still be very excited, you just have to know the signs, but now his excitement is practically bursting from him.
"What's got you all excited?" Ron asks, then shoves eggs down his throat.
"Rosita and Tara got engaged," Rick explains, and Ron feels his heart stop for a moment. Rick sounds happy too, he looks happy, with a small smile on his rough features. Ron can't help but smile too, he doesn't know them well, but he knows that they're both pretty funny, and Carl likes them both, so Ron thinks they're pretty cool. But some part of him still worries, still aches.
"And that's... okay with you all?" Ron asks nervously, staring down at his half-of-a-star waffle. Rick had found a waffle maker in the shape of a star a few days ago and Judith had already been on a bit of star kick, and they had eaten star waffles for the last three days. Even her shirt had stars all over it.
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Rick asks carefully. Like he's worried Ron won't approve.
"Some people here won't like it," Ron mumbles.
"They seem okay with Aaron?" It comes out more as a question than a statement, because Rick realized it probably isn't entirely true.
"People talk. My dad and his friends always said shit about Aaron behind his back. Said shit about me too. Tara and Rosita shouldn't have to deal with that." He hears Carl's breath hitch.
"Tara and Rosita are tough women, they'll ignore shit anybody says," Rick assures him. It's quiet again for a few seconds, an anxious almost uncomfortable silence.
"I'm sorry about what your dad and his friends said about you. He shouldn't have done that." Rick says softly.
"It's true," Ron says simply. Because it is. He thinks everyone in Alexandria probably knows he's gay by now.
"Doesn't matter. A father's job is to love his kids unconditionally." He looks at Carl, who blushes and hides his face, mouthing 'sappy' at his dad before he does, and Rick just smiles. It's all so normal it makes his heart ache.
"Yeah. My dad was pretty bad at his job." Ron laughs uncomfortably.
"You're dad’s a piece of shit," Carl says. It takes Ron a second to realize it was actually coming from Carl's mouth, that he actually said it.
"Carl. Language. Judith is right there." Rick scolds gently, but he sounds like he doesn't care. Michonne laughs at him.
"You just said shit, Rick." Michonne points out. They bicker back and forth but Ron isn't paying them any mind, just looking at Carl, who smiles crookedly in a way that can only say he understands what effect his talking has on Ron.
"Who are those guys?" Carl asks quietly.
"What?" Ron asks stupidly, still too distracted by the fact that he can hear Carl. He hadn't actually used his voice since that day in the record store.
"Those guys who talked shit about Aaron?" Rick doesn't scold him for his language.
"Uh... Marcus, Spencer, Leo, and Jackson. They're all— were all friends with my dad." Carl hums thoughtfully at this.
"I'll let Tara and Rosita know. They wanted a small ceremony but just to be safe." Michonne tells him, and Ron nods.
"You're coming," Carl says suddenly, and he's staring right at him, gaze intense. "To the wedding, with me." He explains after a moment.
Ron just nods. "Sounds like fun."
Carl beams, and this feels like enough forever.