There was a chance that Carl might like him. It was a slim chance, but it was there.
That's all that Patrick could think of as he walked through the prison's corridors, not heading anywhere in particular. It would probably be best, the boy had decided, to leave Carl alone for a while, regardless of the fact that he had been given the wrong idea completely. When he ended up in Cell Block C, though, he stopped, lingering in the main doorway. Hesitating for a just a few seconds, Patrick sighed and pushed his glasses up a little before making his way to the younger boy's cell, a little nervous yet still eager to see him, to explain himself.
And perhaps to find out how Carl felt about him.
... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Carl had long since given up on just sitting, regardless of how he felt. Sure, he was embarrassed, and sure, he was kind of upset that things probably wouldn't be the same between him and Patrick, but the pile of comics beside his bed had tempted him to at least try to cheer himself up.
As the boy's eyes scanned the colours on the page a few minutes after picking the comic up, a small smile appeared on his lips as he understood the jokes he hadn't when he had first read the book. He turned the page, absorbed in it, and only paused when he heard footsteps stop at his doorway.
"Uh.. Carl?"
He didn't look up at first, but shut his eyes tight when he first recognized the voice; it was Patrick.
Finally giving a slight sigh, Carl glanced up at the boy in the doorway, straightening his back and giving a slight nod. "Patrick." He said in a simple response, voice fairly tight; this would be the part where he was judged. Where comments were made about what he had said. Where Patrick would tease about telling his dad.
"Can I come in?"
Hesitating for a second, Carl nodded and swallowed, shuffling up on the bed to make room for Patrick to sit. He stayed quiet, though, watching his hands as he tugged on the ends of his sleeves.
... ... ... ... ... ...
Patrick breathed in tightly before sitting on the other end of the bed, watching his own hands in his lap as he puffed out his cheeks then let the air out, struggling to think of what to say. After a few minutes of the two boys' mutual silence, he sighed and sat up, pushing the glasses up his nose.
"Why'd you run off?"
There. He had said it. Or he had said something, at least.
Patrick watched the younger boy for a few seconds, waiting for a response as he fiddled with his hands. It was a minute or so before Carl looked back up at him, shrugging slightly and giving a small shake of his head.
"I don't know, man." He sighed. The older boy glanced down after the eye contact, listening with his gaze fixed to a point on the bed.
"I just.. thought you'd make fun of me or something."
Patrick looked at Carl again as he said this, sighing and shaking his head as he looked back down at his hands.
"Dude," The older boy frowned, pushing his glasses up. "I'm not going to make fun of you." His voice was quiet as he looked down at his knees again, hesitating over what he was about to say next before swallowing and not looking up.
"In fact.. I'm not all that 'into girls', either."
... ... ... ... ... ...
Furrowing his eyebrows, Carl glanced back over at Patrick. "You're.. not?"
The older boy shook his head without looking up.
"Well.. Okay." He breathed in, a little unsure what to say; Patrick could be lying, of course, but he didn't seem like one to lie about something like this; he was too...polite. Once again, a couple of minutes silence passed before Carl spoke up again, finally saying what had taken over his mind for the past few weeks.
"Patrick?"
The older boy glanced up, pushing his glasses up as he turned to look at Carl.
"Yeah?"
He hesitated, glancing at the floor before back up at Patrick.
"I like you, man." Swallowing, he kept his eyes locked on the other's. "I like you a lot. And that.. that's why I ran off earlier."
Carl watched the other boy's face flood red, causing his to do the same as he swallowed again, waiting for a response; he wanted to know what would be said, rather than walking off as he had done before, and never finding out.
... ... ... ... ... ...
"I.." The older boy glanced down at the floor, the red not fading from his cheeks as he tried to form a sentence from everything that was exploding in his mind. Carl liked him. Carl freaking Grimes liked him back. Finally, he realized that he had remained quiet for too long, and his eyes shot straight back up to the boy in front of him. "You do? I mean," Patrick swallowed and sat up straight, pushing his glasses up once again. "Man," He shook his head, words still not stringing together properly as he fidgeted, heart practically bursting through his chest. "That's.. That's amazing. That's great, in fact, I-" Once more, the boy shook his head, finally just grinning from the relief instead of speaking another jumble of mismatched words.
"You like me back?" Carl looked nervous in front of him, though a lot less so than he had done before, sitting on the edge of the bed like an excited child.
Patrick nodded. "Of course I freaking do."