Chapter Nine: I've Got a Burning Desire For You, Baby
Jesus and I walked along the gardens together. I enjoyed the flowers and light breeze hitting my face. The setting sun during golden hour was a sight to behold. It was absolutely beautiful. I didn't say much to Jesus, and he was quiet, too. He was very calming to be around. His eyes were captivating. For the first time in awhile I felt myself becoming quiet due to anxiety. I can feel the heat rise up in my cheeks before I realize just what emotion is making me feel like this.
"It's beautiful," Jesus comments.
"What?" I quickly say.
"The sunset."
"Oh."
An awkward silence stays between us for a minute or two before Jesus speaks up again. His voice is even as he tells me he knows I'm a Savior. He also tells me, with a strange calmness, that he isn't going to hold it against me.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.
"Because.." He trails off as if he's thinking of the right words to say.
"You want to know about the compound? About Negan?"
He stops walking, as do I, and he looks me in the eyes with sincerity. It's as if he's trying not to offend me. I look away from him. It's hard not to feel some sort of embarrassment when I look at him. It absolutely kills me.
"I never was a Savior." I try to explain. What should I tell him? I can't tell him the truth.
"It doesn't matter. I want to know if you're up to talking about it."
Can I? It would be betraying Negan. His firm hold on my mind is still there. I'm not afraid of Negan. I'm fascinated with him. The slow burn of desire for him is still in my heart. As much as I hate myself for it, I can't let him go. And, I can't let myself betray him.
"I can see you're conflicted," Jesus says.
My eyes go wide for a moment before realizing I've been staring at one of the flowers. Jesus laughs at me. His laugh is as beautiful as he is. A soft, easy sound.
"That's Lilac," he says as he bends down to pick it. He places the stem in my hands. "It represents first love." He walks off with his hands behind his back, chuckling at me, as I stand there like an idiot. My cheeks are burning by this point, and it makes me mad. Inside, I'm fucking furious, but I let my anger go, and in it's place, a feeling of.. Contentment replaces it. I softly smile at his retreating figure.
I go back to my room in the mansion. The door lock clicks and I don't waste any time getting my drugs ready. I lay out a lighter, a pill, and a cut straw on the nightstand. It takes me minutes to crush the bold white oval into white powder with the lighter. Then, I chop it up into thick lines. After snorting the substance, I use water to clear my nostrils and create a drip in the back of my mouth.
The bed swallows me as I lie back in it.
Time stands still for me in this moment. I'm staring up at the ceiling, and the ceiling stares back at me.
Negan's face flashes in my mind. His handsome features. His dark eyes that promise kinky fantasies. His tall and lanky body he uses with such fluidity and power. The smell of leather and soap. And, most of all, he wants me. Negan's desire for me makes me feel good about myself. Imagine what he could do to me. Such violent power like a hurricane off the coast.
I would touch myself if I didn't feel so numb.
"I'm.. Sorry." I whisper. The words flow from my lips like soft wind. It's my apology for leaving Negan. It's my apology for denying my true self. My eyes close momentarily, but I will myself to stay awake. Tears begin to stream down my tanned cheeks, and I take in a heavy gulp of air. "I'm sorry.." I repeat one last time before succumbing to the drugs in my system.
The sun shining through the drapes wakes me. The light outside flickers for a second before burning bright again. My sleepy mind reminds me that it's not normal for sunlight to do that, and I stumble over to the window.
"Fuck," I mutter.
A burning care blaring classical music has been driven through the front gate of Hilltop like a comet from the heavens. It's the Savior's doing. And, it's a reminder they're not above this kind of shit. I grab my coat and rifle and head to the front balcony. I start picking off the walkers inside the gates. Jesus and a few others are already out there, and I quickly learn Hilltop holds more than farmers and country bumkins.
They're fighters. Or, some of them are, at least. The music is loud and disorientating. It's interesting to be surrounded by so much chaos and violence. I try aiming for where I think the battery is on the car to shut the fucking thing off.
A tractor runs over the car. It's quiet now except for the moans of the walkers and the people yelling to each other. A short-haired woman jumps out of the tractor with an obvious victorious grin on her face. I don't know who she is, but she's smart.
I catch eyes with Jesus who is standing below me in the yard. His look tells me more than words ever can. "I know," I say, unsure if he can hear me.
The next day, I make it down to the Savior's compound. The Mayor let me borrow a car for the day. That old man let me do anything really. I didn't have to worry about food or showers. I'm watching the compound from a distance like some sort of weird animal. It's only been a day, but I had to come here to clear my mind.
The day after that, I do the same.
After coming back to Hilltop and settling in for the evening, Jesus comes to me with plans to hide on one of the moving trucks. He tells me he will do it when the Savior's come for supplies.
"You're insane," I tell him.
He laughs at me. "Maybe."
We're sitting near the window in separate chairs. His looks are deceiving I think as I watch him. He kicked ass the other night fighting those walkers. His hand-to-hand combat is remarkable. It makes me curious, and I can't stop myself from asking. Jesus avoids the question.
"Show me what you got," I challenge him. A smile spreads across my face at his reaction, which is none. The man has come here to ask me for my help, and I challenge him to a sparring match. I shouldn't expect him to be welcoming to the idea. "Well, if you're afraid."
Jesus chuckles at me. "Okay, Asad," he finally answers.
"Something tells me you're gonna hold back."
"Never," he slyly retorts.
We're now standing across from each other in my bedroom. We both take our respective stances. We don't say anything to each other as we spar. Jesus is good. Too good. He's kicking my ass, and I'm barely keeping up with him. He's redirecting everything I throw at him. It's impossible to find an opening on him, and while my mind's busy thinking about how to get at him, Jesus lands an elbow in my side. He hits me hard, and I begin to fall to my knees, but he uses the opportunity to catch me from falling.
"You knocked my breath out," I say quietly as he holds me.
"You're like a brick wall, Asad," he answers. "Your defense is amazing, but I saw your eyes were distant. That's when I hit you."
I nod because that's all I can do at the moment. Jesus lays me down on my back as I regain my normal breathing. Jesus watches me for a moment before he places a strong hand on my chest. He's applying a small amount of pressure.
"Breathe in when I say so, and breathe out."
I do as he says. My cheeks begin to heat up again like they did in the garden, and my mind goes crazy thinking about him. The room seems to close in on me. These feelings aren't helping my breathing. I do as he says for a few more moments before I tell him I'm fine.
"You're amazing, Jesus," I compliment him, still a little out of breath. "Can you teach me?"
Jesus looks down for a moment. "I will, but only if you draw me a map."
"This again," I blurt out without thinking. I turn away from him to sit back in the chair, and soon after the smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the room. "Fine."
I can hear Jesus breathe a sigh of relief.
"If Negan dies, it's his own damn fault," I mutter.
"I won't kill Negan," Jesus assures.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," I struggle to clarify, but it is how it sounds. It's exactly how it sounds. I wonder if Jesus knows that.
"Then what do you mean?" He prods a little.
"I don't know what I mean," I say as Jesus hands me a pen and some paper. I begin to draw a map of what I remember, which isn't much. I tell the man across from me that I'm not sure how accurate my drawing is, but he tells me it doesn't matter. He needs a way in. "Here."
Jesus takes it and looks at it studiously. It's a hack job, but it will get him in there. Jesus said he won't kill Negan, and I silently hope it's true.
That night I can't sleep despite the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs in my system. I try to kill the pain every night, but my mind refuses to shut itself off. There are too many questions in my mind. There are too many conflicting emotions.
I go outside to walk the gardens in a vain attempt to find peace of mind. It's freezing outside this early in the morning. I hug myself tighter for warmth. There's all kinds of flowers and herbs in the patches of dirt. The rising sun is barely showing itself over the mountain tops. Above, the stars shine bright with clarity. The smell of a campfire fills my nostrils.
Something in me reminds me it's better to walk away from anything that causes me distress like this. I should leave. I should take one of the cars and leave with supplies. This unholy war between these people will be a distant memory in time. A foggy memory my mind unlocks for me with the help of pain and alcohol.
What would Negan think of me helping out Jesus? I laugh to myself at the thought of his reaction. I wonder if he'd kill me. I wonder if he'd be jealous. Negan tried so hard to get me to like him. He tried to cast his spell on me like he did everyone else. Unlike the others, I can take care of myself. It's what I do to survive. It's a different side of the same coin. In this world, we all do what we can to stay alive.
"Can't sleep?" Jesus asks from some dark corner.
His voice isn't startling. I half-expected him to show up out here. Jesus must have been watching me from somewhere for awhile before approaching me. That's what kind of person he is. He's observant, smart, and trepidatious.
"No," I answer, looking at him.
He shrugs and comes walking to my side. His gait is uncaring and somehow still controlled. Jesus' slight upturn of lips isn't missed by me.
"Sorry about hitting you earlier."
I laugh. "It's fine."
We walk together in silence except it's not awkward this time. I'm enjoying someone being near me this time. He makes himself comfortable in my presence. We approach two grave plots and I stop. I'm staring at the two piles of dirt when Jesus speaks up.
"Abe and Glenn. The Alexandrians Negan killed."
The words are a spear through my heart. These two graves remind me of who Negan really is. It reminds me of who I really am on the inside. The maniac was right – we are a lot more alike than I know. Maybe he was just trying to get me to accept that.
"I was there that night," I say. "I was watching from the trees. That's where I gave myself up to the Saviors."
Jesus looks puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Before that night, I was just a vagabond. I was picking off Negan's soldiers like flies. Raiding Savior supply caches. Then, I just.. I decided I wanted to see what they were all about."
Jesus is quiet for a moment. "Did you find what you were looking for?" He asks.
"Yes," I answer. "It seems to have caused me more pain than good. Do you have anything to say about that? About why I feel so fucked up inside. Why I feel so bad."
Jesus looks serious. The light that emanates from him dampens upon hearing my words. The slight smile he had disappears.
"Usually when we go seeking answers.." He begins. "We end up with more questions. Is it worth it to you?"
"I'm beginning to think it isn't."
Jesus puts a hand on my shoulder to tell me he's still there. "Don't kill yourself over it. Sometimes it's better to go with the flow. You're here now. That has to mean something."
I look at his hand and then at his face. His smile is back now. His blue eyes are enhanced by the early dawn light.
"Maybe it does," I say before turning to leave.
"We should talk more," Jesus calls to me softly.
I pause.
"Goodnight," I tell him.
The next day Simon is there with his men to collect supplies. He finds me watching from the stairs. Simon's gaze makes me feel dirty and vulnerable. The man with the mustache has crazy eyes, and I can see why Negan chose him to run this operation.
"Negan wanted me to give you this," he says, handing me a folded piece of paper. I open it to find another note from the maniac himself. Before I get to read it, Simon speaks up. "You know, if you're into bad boys, I can help you." He moves in closer to touch my hair. "You've got a killer body."
I grab his hand using the pressure points Jesus taught me. His arm bends in a horrific way, and he yells in pain, looking at me with those crazy eyes filled with horror. I let go after a few seconds. Simon stumbles backwards off the stairs. Then he looks up at me with complete dread.
"I was joking," he mutters.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask.
"Go ahead. Read it." He answers.
I look at the note. With Simon's gaze on me, I try not to show too much reaction towards Negan's words. Instead I turn it around on him just to get him to leave.
"Negan won't like it when I tell him you read his private letter. He might feel embarrassed. Then.. He might get angry."
Simon scoffs before walking off.
I go in search of Jesus, trying to catch him before he leaves on the truck. There's a crowd of people in Hilltop today. Savior's mixed in with the farmers. Some faces I recognize and I try my best to walk fast and hide my face. Jesus has to be around here somewhere. I go outside the gates to look around the trucks, but I can't find him.
I give up my search and return to my room to watch the trucks leave. The Savior's trickle out of Hilltop like ants leaving the colony. The big white moving vans start up one by one. Then, they leave. Rage consumes me like a bad disease, but I use self-control to contain it.
"Three days," I say aloud. "What bullshit."
