He paced outside the door to his cell for every day after the war ended, but could never bring himself to go down the stairs
"So… you wanna talk about it."
"Not really."
"Alright, alright. Just askin'."
Clancy chewed his lip, wincing as his teeth tore through the thin, pink flesh. Negan's demeanor had totally changed after he saw the bruise, something that Clancy definitely didn't want to happen, because now there's gonna be a whole production, and his dad is definitely gonna find out that Negan knows, and now that Negan knows-
"I'm just- Shit, kid, I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything, then." It came out with more acidity than Clancy had hoped for, something that made him ball his fist until he heard his knuckles pop and saw them go white. His mouth had gone dry again, this time with an acrid taste of bile that left his stomach reeling in nausea.
"I'm sorry. That's all I'm gonna say for now, okay? You don't deserve this shit, s'not fair."
The boy squirmed in the hoodie that Negan had returned to him, face flushed in embarrassment. Some things weren't meant to be seen by others, and this was definitely one of those things. It was just supposed to be between him and his dad, right? That got him thinking about what Negan had just said. Maybe he did deserve it, talking back to him last night and all of that stuff.
"Thanks." He said plainly, looking down at his dirty Nike tennis shoes. Why did he wear those? He didn't even play tennis. He didn't even play any sport come to think of it. Say, when was the last time that he actually voluntarily stepped into a game of sports? Hell, it had to be at least a few years by now, maybe even before-
"We waiting here for your old man to come back?"
Clancy turned to his gym coach in abject horror. "No! No. It's, it's alright." He looked at Lucille's car in front of his house. "You think we can, like, drive somewhere? Doesn't have to be somewhere specific, just like… somewhere away from here for a bit."
The coach looked at the bruised boy, biting the inside of his mouth. He actually felt bad for him, something that didn't come to the man naturally. Negan found himself usually hating people who were weaker than him, people who let others walk all over them, but when it came to kids, especially one who was like Clancy, he could cut them some slack. "Alright, yeah, sure." Negan groaned as he lifted himself from the front steps of the small blue house and swung his car keys around his index finger as he extended a hand towards Clancy.
The boy took it without hesitation, gripping tightly onto Negan's palm and lifting himself up with a small grunt. The coach patted him on the back and started towards the car. "C'mon, kiddo." He sighed deeply. "I would've brought the bike, but I was just coming to see if your lazy ass was still working for me today. Didn't wanna cause a scene in this wonderful neighborhood of yours, you feel me?" The town, if you could even call it that, was less than admirable. Everything was small; the best possible description Negan could've given. Small houses, small roads, small stores, it was like the gym teacher had drunk one of those potions from Alice in Wonderland that made him shrink.
As for the people; there was none. On Negan's drive up, he encountered little to no traffic, and after he found himself in Clancy's neighborhood, he had to question whether or not some catastrophic disaster happened that wiped out the entire population.
"I almost never see you on that thing." The boy responded, opening the car door and lowering himself into the passenger seat.
"It's for special occasions only, like a fancy scotch or cigar." The man plopped down into the driver's seat, fastening his seatbelt and placing the key into the ignition. "I was also thinking of getting a leather jacket to complete the whole biker look." He looked out the window, laughter in his voice. "The missus probably wouldn't like it."
The car pulled away from the empty house and the pair inside of it sat in silence. Deafening, awkward, painful silence.
"Be honest, did he—" there was a rare hitch in the man's voice. "Did he ever do that to you before?"
Clancy was sure he could hear his heart beating. A rhythmic pulse that made his entire body shake every few seconds. His mouth was dry again. "I- uh, I mean… not really."
Negan raised an eyebrow. "Not really?"
Clancy gripped a curl of hair, twirling it between his index and ring finger anxiously. "Never like this before." He said with an amount of confidence in his voice that brought a shock to even himself. "I just— I don't know what happened."
Negan turned the steering wheel slowly, biting his lip. "Why'd he do it?"
The freckled boy leaned his head on the window, taking notice of the world rushing by the automobile. It was things like this that leveled him, brought him back to the ground level where he could finally focus on what was important in life. Car rides, late-night talks with Scott or Josh, and either drawing or reading comics. The trifecta, Clancy would call it. And here he was, in one of his favorite places in the world, a silent, moving car, and for some reason, he felt so confined.
"I don't know." He croaked. "I mean, I— I got mad at him and yelled and then." Clancy slammed his fists together, making an explosion sound with his mouth. Negan let out a sigh.
"Why'd you get mad?"
"It was stupid. The whole thing's stupid." He kicked his feet outwards, trying desperately to get comfortable in the leather seat. "I don't think he expected me to get home that late. That was what started it all off."
Negan couldn't help but feel guilty. "We finished running at like, what, four? How early does he want you getting home?"
"Nah, it wasn't that." The boy waved his hand. "I met Josh after and we hung out around town for a little bit. Got back at around seven and then he just... flipped on me." Clancy pressed a hand up against the tender bruise on his cheek. "I'm pretty sure he was drunk, but- but maybe I should've told him that I was gonna be out, y'know. Would've saved us both the trouble."
Negan didn't respond. Did he do this? Taking the stupid kid out for a run after school and causing him to get hurt. Maybe he should be the one to blame. Yeah, yeah maybe it was his fault. Swallowing a heaping helping of his own pride, Negan looked towards the kid with something that could best be described as remorse.
"I'm sorry for taking you out to the field yesterday. I could've—"
"Coach, Negan, c'mon." The boy scratched threw a hand up, looking at his gym teacher then back out the window of the car. "It's not your fault, okay. It's—" Clancy repositioned himself in the passenger seat, trying to worm his way into some semblance of a comfortable position. "It's no one's fault. It just— it just happened. That's all it was."
"Yeah." Negan held his grip on the steering wheel. "It just happened."
Around ten minutes later, they were stopped at an intersection and the atmosphere in the car had become more relaxed. Clancy leaned back in his seat, letting the cool breeze rush over him from the open window. "You really want a leather jacket?" He asked through closed eyes.
"Hell yeah, I'd kill for one. Things are expensive as shit, though. And uh, a little secret kid, a gym teacher's salary doesn't exactly cover something like that."
"Can't you put some cash aside, like save up or something?"
"Jesus, you really are twelve years old." Negan mocked, shaking his head.
"Turned fourteen two months ago actually. February 8th." The boy retorted proudly.
"How the hell are you a freshman?" Negan looked bewildered, "I was just joking before, but… really? You're that young?" Staring at the boy who now somehow looked even younger.
"It had something to do with my parents not putting me in preschool, I think. When they enrolled me in Kindergarten I was still pretty young, but the school just let it slide for some reason."
Negan looked completely bored with his explanation. "You think you're the youngest in the school?"
"I mean, I wouldn't be surprised." Clancy paused, then sucked in a breath of air and raised a finger curiously. "Wait so why is saving money a bad thing, exactly?"
"You'll learn." Negan commented. "Wait until your sorry ass is paying bills and buying food and all that good shit and you'll be like—" The man raised the pitch of his voice, clearly imitating the boy. "'Oh shit, I guess Coach Negan was right the whole time.'"
"I dunno, Coach Negan, I feel like you gotta live a little sometimes."
"Yeah. I know." He looked at the cars
Three weeks passed. When he wasn't occupied with school, Clancy found himself at the track field with Negan (he'd asked him to drop the 'coach' thing last week), out with Scott and Josh, or cramped up in his small room with his eyes glued to the Xbox hooked up to his box TV. Same as it had always been.
Oh, and he was moving in a week.
Clancy didn't process it at first. He was too busy picking at the pile of grilled chicken on his plate when Mark brought up something about his family in Georgia. It was an offhand comment at first, some type of small talk that was initiated in a desperate attempt to rid the tension that could be waded through like mud at the dinner table.
Mark had already apologized about hitting the boy. By the time Negan had dropped him back off at his house, the man was sitting on the couch with an ice pack held to his eye and a weary look plastered across his face. When Clancy walked past him quietly, the man muttered about being sorry and how he got fired from his job and got into a fight with his boss. Barely even comprehending anything his father was saying, the freckled boy replied with an apathetic "okay" and walked into his room.
He remembered giving an indifferent response and then when his dad said that they'd be moving there he almost choked on his dry chicken. Then Mark started listing his reasons; job opportunities, new friends for Clancy, meeting estranged family, and rehab. That one stuck out to the boy. His dad would finally be going to rehab, but they had to move to the south for him to finally go through with it. Just his luck.
And to top it all off he had dinner plans at Negan's house in a few days.
"Dinner is served, ladies and gentlemen." The big man sauntered into the dining room with two plates piled up with spaghetti and tomato sauce. He set the plates in front of the pair sitting at the table and then walked back to the kitchen to get his serving.
"Do you want rolls?!" He called from across the house, Lucille and Clancy looked at each other for a beat before the former yelled back that he should just bring the whole basket of them and they started to eat soon after.
"So—" Lucille began. "How's school going?"
Clancy could barely hide his relief once she broke the ice. "Oh, it's uh... it's going pretty good. Got two more months and then it's summer already." He moved the spaghetti around with his fork. "Can't believe I'm almost done with freshman year already."
"I'll say." Negan boomed. "Seems like just yesterday you and your sorry little friends came into my gym class and started fucking everything up."
Lucille gawked, slapping the back of Negan's head. "Be nice." She spa
"Sorry, sorry." Negan shook his head with a grin. "Let me try it again. How is the spaghetti, young sir?" He turned to Lucille. "That good enough?"
She looked at her husband with a smile. "Jerk."
"It's good, Negan. Really good." Clancy said before shoving a forkful into his mouth. He wasn't lying. Who the hell would've thought that Negan was this good of a cook?
"My mom, she'd uh— she'd drain all the juice out of the last can of tomatoes so the sauce wouldn't get all watery. Never knew how she, like… knew all the secrets to cooking that stuff." Clancy smiled to himself. "She made a crazy good gravy too, like with the different pieces of meat in there, y'know."
He after another forkful of spaghetti.
"I take it you're Italian?" Lucille asked, pointing her fork in Clancy's direction
"Yeah," he started with a smile. "Italian and Irish. Dad's from Ireland." He took another bite of spaghetti. "Don't speak any other languages though, I just eat the food."
Negan laughed. "We can see that."
"Dick."
Sure, it was small talk, and yeah, it was definitely the cookie-cutter questions and answers that the boy expected he'd be hearing at the dinner, but something about it was still comforting. It was like he had known these people for years and he was like an old family friend coming back to catch up on what he had missed. Except for the fact that he never met Lucille before.
He'd seen the woman outside Negan's house every now and then during ping pong club, and although he'd share a short greeting with the woman, he was never really able to go deeper than that. She was nice, though, that was the first thing Clancy noticed. He couldn't imagine why someone like her would willingly marry Negan, but hey, if it made them happy, who was he to judge?
The dinner went on for a little bit longer, at least until Negan had gone back for an extra serving and Clancy had decided that he'd be better off without one, partially so he wouldn't have to hear shit from Negan. He and Lucille kept talking about school, how things were going with his friends, if he had any plans for the summer, quite possibly the most basic conversation topics ever, but Clancy didn't really care.
He learned that she was from Ohio, moved to Virginia fifteen years ago, and met Negan soon after. Apparently, Lucille also went to college to become a lawyer but dropped out after a year and a half and moved away from her hometown, starting her own business a few miles out of D.C. Her and Negan met in a bar a few months after she moved in and they got married a year after they met.
Maybe someday he'd meet his own Lucille, settle down, have a kid, live out the rest of his life with her. Maybe it'd be the girl from his gym class that he was gonna see the movie with. Oh, wait- moving in three days, right. He finished listening to one of Negan's stories and took a final bite of spaghetti with a sigh.
"Alright, c'mon, kid, I'll drive you back." He pushed himself away from the table, laying the fork down and standing up.
"Negan, you don't have to do that. I can just ride my—"
"At this time? Bullshit." Lucille interjected.
Surprised at Lucille's sudden outburst, a grin crept onto Clancy's face as he looked at his gym teacher, head in his hands with a similar smirk. "Ok, well if it's being offered—" He sat up from the table, taking the last sip from the cup of water. "Let's get going, old man."
Lucille's eyes widened like saucers, the quiet dining room erupting into a howl of her laughter. "Yep, laugh it up." Negan said in a deadpanned tone with his signature smile.
Clancy looked at the couple before averting his attention to the coat rack by the front door. They reminded him of his parents before the crash, hell maybe even before Washington D.C. Before his mom was buried up to her neck in work at her "fancy government job" as his friend Scott loved to call it, they were a family. Something as simple as that— family—seemed almost alien to the boy, maybe even alien enough to make him uncomfortable at the sight of a husband and wife displaying some sort of affection to each other.
Or maybe he was just fucking stupid. Maybe he was just jealous of his parents' lack of passion in their relationship leading up to his mother's death and seeing Negan and Lucille like this brought him only a fraction of what could've been if she hadn't been in that accident. He shook away the thought almost immediately.
Clancy threw his thin coat over his sweatshirt, fixing the sleeve that always seemed to get caught on his wrist and fold inwards. He glanced into the mirror that sat atop the dresser in the living room. He'd lost weight. A lot of weight, actually. Clancy's face had tinned prominently, the excess fat that once pooled under his chin had subsided, and although it was still there, the amount that remained was something shocking to him.
It worked. It actually worked. All of those stupid exercises and eating that stupid chicken and broccoli actually did something. It was a moment of pride for the boy, really. Something that he could revel in and stare at for hours, that is unless—
"You done looking in the mirror over there, DeNiro? C'mon, we're heading out." Negan chortled, walking past the boy and pulling the front door open.
Clancy followed him, turning back to Lucille. "Thanks for having me, Mrs. Smith." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Take care." The boy blurted out, turning around as she reciprocated the farewell.
Clancy was blindsided by the chilly night air, sending him huddling into his coat. Jesus, was it this cold when he got here? Definitely not. God, he should invest in warmer clothes, maybe a better coat, a new hoodie, or— oh yeah. Georgia in three days. Nevermind.
He has to tell Negan.
The pair walked side by side towards Lucille's car, the former glancing at the motorcycle parked in the driveway. "Can we take that thing?"
"In your dreams, kiddo."
"C'mon! When am I ever gonna have another chance!?"
Negan cocked an eyebrow at him, opening the car door. "Any day other than today. Also, you need to put your bike somewhere, don't you?"
The boy paused, looking as if gears were spinning in his head until his thoughts clicked and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Yep. I guess you're right."
He was bathed in the headlights of the car as the engine roared to life. "C'mon, don't keep me waiting. My wife isn't gonna wait up all night for me," He narrowed his eyes and flashed a smirk "if you know what I mean."
"Gross." The boy sneered at the man, walking past the driver's seat and signaling for Negan to pop the trunk.
Dumping the bike into the car, he slammed the door shut, jogging to the passenger's seat and swinging the door open. Clancy looked at Negan's house with a smile, the all-too-familiar pang of longing collided into him like a speeding freight train. Last time he'd ever see it, probably. Almost definitely, actually. Clancy blinked, shifting into the seat that always seemed to be a little too uncomfortable.
The car was silent… well not really. Negan was babbling about his wife again, something about having sex with her, probably, but Clancy wasn't listening. He had to tell him. He had to.
Then it came out.
"We're moving, Negan." It was flat and it was harsh.
"Excuse the hell out of me?" Negan heard what he said. He heard it loud and clear but needed to hear it again from the boy's mouth.
"I said we're moving." He paused. "To Georgia. An hour or so away from Atlanta? You know, that city in-"
"I know what fucking Atlanta is." He slammed the steering wheel as the car careened down the empty road. Negan wanted to scream. He wanted to pull the car over, dump the kid out and then drive into the night and scream until he couldn't scream anymore. He'll settle for brooding right now, screaming later. "Why Georgia of all places?"
"Dad has family down there, a few aunts and uncles. We're gonna move into their neighborhood, a few blocks from them. I think I have a cousin my age, so that's good." Clancy said plainly.
"No, it's not good." He gripped the wheel. "You're going down there with him and his family? All alone. I—"
"We sorted it out, Negan. We talked about it a few days ago. Everything." Clancy ignored the ever-increasing pain in his throat as choked out word after word.
"What… what'd he say." Negan asked, sounding almost frantic. Something about that worried Clancy deeply.
"He was sorry. What else could he say?" The boy looked out into the pitch blackness of the Virginia night. "Also said he was going to rehab once we got down there. I don't know if that was one of his reasons for leaving, but if it was…" Clancy looked down at his hands draped over his lap. "I can't be mad at him, Negan. I just— I just want my dad back. Back to how he was before." He slapped his hand onto his knee, gripping onto it nervously. "And if this— if this can fix him… then so be it. If he really wants to do— make himself better. Then who am I to stop him? Right?"
Negan closed his eyes, muttering something to himself before turning back to the kid, making sure to direct his eyes back to the road from time to time. "Why can't he get it here? You're leaving everything behind, just for what? An empty promise made by your old man? The same son of a bitch who hit you?"
Then the kid exploded in his seat. "You think I don't know that?! You think I'm not just trying to come up with anything to make this better for me right now?! You think— You think I want to go?!" Negan winced as he heard the boy's pubescent voice hitch. "Excuse my French, Negan, but are you fucking stupid?! I-" Clancy's face softened in the darkness of the passenger's seat. "I'm sorry." He idly picked a scab on the knuckle of his middle finger, purposely avoiding eye contact with his gym teacher until he heard the laughing.
A thick, booming laugh that vibrated the car and could come from no one but his gym coach. "I think you might be, kid. I think you might be." He looked into the watery eyes of the boy sitting beside him and swallowed. "Hey," the man put a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip. "Chin up, Clance."
The freckled boy stared at Negan, nose running and eyes puffy. "I just- I just," Clancy slammed his fist into his knee, shaking violently. "Why is he doing this!?" He screamed in the darkness of the car. It was an ugly, violent screech that rasped out of the boy's lungs and rocked him to the core.
"Look at me!" Negan's voice boomed through Clancy's clouded thoughts. "Look at me." He said firmly, turning the boy in his seat to face him. "I know it hurts, okay. And I know there's nothing you can do about it, but at least calm the fuck down a little, take a breather or something. Seeing you like this, kid, it— it fucking sucks." He had pulled the car over now, leaning back in his seat.
Clancy didn't even care that he was crying anymore. Take him three weeks ago, though, and tell him that he'd be balling his eyes out in front of Coach Negan and he'd tell you that he'd rather be dead. Well now here he was, pouring mucus and tears and God knows what else from every hole in his face right in front of the guy who called him a pussy for being bad at ping pong.
"I'm just— just tired of it all, man." He whined, bouncing his knee wildly. "It's like—" Clancy snorted deeply, a wet, slimy-sounding inhale filling the car. "Every time that we move, we— we just pick our shit up and leave like nothing happened." The boy wiped his snot away with the arm of his coat and Negan made sure to hide his grimace.
"It's never simple, Co— Negan. It's never simple. And whenever I want things to go right, I just feel like every-fucking-thing goes to shit, y'know." Clancy cringed at the high-pitched, weepy tone his voice had taken and cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before Negan spoke again.
"Here's what I'm gonna tell you, Clance. A little Coach Negan secret if you will." The gym teacher stared out the windshield, remaining reclined in the driver's seat. "You may think the world owes you shit… but it doesn't. The world doesn't owe you jack-shit, in fact, it doesn't owe you jill-shit, or joe-shit, or whatever-kinda-name-you-wanna-come-up-with-shit."
He lifted himself up in the seat. "The thing is, kiddo… you need to learn to take it sometimes. Take the shit that the world gives you and bottle it up, alright? Bottle that shit up into a fine, fermented brew, and then when you're down and out—" the boy was hanging on the hedge of his seat. "You crack that bottle of shit open, and show everyone what you're really made of."
He slapped the boy on the shoulder. "You got it?" He slapped him again and he nodded. "I said, 'do you got it?'"
Clancy looked at his gym teacher and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Y— yeah." He stammered, his voice all nasally and gummy. The boy cleared his throat again, staring into Negan's eyes. "Yeah. I got it." He declared with a small smile.
"That's my boy." Negan clapped him on the shoulder once more before starting the car again. "You know, kid. I don't usually say this… but I see you going somewhere."
"What?"
"Like in life. Do what you wanna do, be what you wanna be, all that shit." Negan shook his head with a smile. "Get out there, inspire people."
Clancy couldn't help but laugh. "Is this going somewhere, Negan, or are you back to just being an asshole?" He received a swift flick to his ear.
"I can't just, oh I don't know, say something nice for once?"
"Kind of out of character" Clancy mumbled, looking down at his tennis shoes, the Nike check fading away ever-so-slightly at the tip.
"Yeah, well it's what I think. Maybe you'll be a CEO or some shit, bossing people around."
"You think?"
"Hell yeah." Negan chided, a wide smile spread across his face.
Clancy was able to catch a glance of his puffy eyes in the rearview mirror. Swiftly rubbing the remains of tears from his face, he looked at the coach. "You're just saying that because I'm leaving aren't you?"
Negan didn't respond.
"Dick."
The rest of the drive was made in silence. Something that didn't really bother the boy. All that had to be said was said. The shit bottle euphemism (Clancy would come up with a better name for it later) stuck with him, more or less. Maybe Georgia wouldn't be so bad. He'd still have Xbox to talk with Scott, and he'd probably meet new friends too. And hell, maybe his dad would go to rehab, get himself fixed up a little. But then he remembered what Negan said.
Life doesn't owe you shit.
And yeah, he was right. But maybe, just maybe, life would owe him a little shit. Just enough to get him through the move alive and happy. But that remained to be seen.
Negan said something about Half-Moon again and started talking about his wife wanting to have sex with the guy. Clancy barely paid attention to it, but the noise of him talking was comforting enough to send him into a trance. He looked out the car window, each porch light in his neighborhood passing by like fireflies and he felt himself drifting off.
Then the car came to an abrupt stop in front of his house.
"Just… just be careful out there, Clancy." He said gruffly.
"Of course, Coach Negan."
"And hey, if you're ever back in Virginia, you know who to call." He said with a morose smile.
"Sure." Clancy returned the sentiment, lifting himself from the seat of Lucille's car and facing his small blue house, illuminated by a single, dim porch light.
He walked to the back of the car, calling for Negan to open the trunk. This was it, isn't it? The end of all the stupid relationships he built over the past few years in Virginia, just like all the stupid ones he made in New York ended. He didn't even realize how close it was coming until he had broken down in the car, practically melting into the seat.
Clancy awkwardly pulled the bike from the trunk, laying it down on the sidewalk. He closed the hatch and looked at Negan's silhouette in the driver's seat. Now he had to come up with some sort of goodbye. Anything that he could come up with probably wouldn't be said in the way he intended, so might as well just wing it, right? Before he knew it, he was standing at the passenger side door, looking through the open window.
"Thanks for, uh, thanks for everything. Sucks I won't be getting that movie date with the girl I was talking about, huh?" He and Negan looked at each other before the coach's expression softened and he nodded at the boy with a weak grin.
And that was the last time he ever saw Negan Smith, or so he thought.
Little did Clancy know, the world would end in less than three months, and he'd be seeing Coach Negan again, whether he wanted to or not.