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BabySlothXYaoi- It was hard to keep Rhys in Alexandria since I obviously would love to write for the run and it would be more exciting, but for character growth and for Carl's mental well being, he must stay... also, I suppose it wouldn't have been a full TEAMGRR outing since we only had the TEGR memebers present. Writing up Mikey's backstory was a treat, I've fallen in love with the character... I wish Aiden had survived longer than Spencer, felt like he was the more interesting brother. I have also sat on a pool table... still feel bad.
Chapter Warning- Includes sexual references between minors. All are written inexplicitly and for the sake of the story.
When the cookies are done, I head for Ron's house, wanting to speak with Carl about everything that happened. Hoping that I might see Sam there as well, to say sorry for meddling.
Gabriel is standing alone outside his make-shift church, pulling at his collar like it's uncomfortable.
I give a brief nod.
"Rhys..." the priest stops me in my tracks.
"Uh-huh," I wait for him to speak, putting my hands in my pockets as I occupy the middle of the street.
"Do you remember what we spoke about back in my church?"
I don't nod, waiting for him to get to the point.
He does. "Now that we're here, do you feel different about killing?"
"Different?"
"Yes. Different."
Really not wanting to have this conversation, I point a thumb over my shoulder, "I've got somewhere to be." I turn to leave, but the Father's gentle voice stops me again.
"Are you familiar with The Second Epistle to the Corinthians?"
I think for a second, deciding to humour him. I turn and nod, "Paul the Apostle? Yeah, vaguely."
"I was thinking on verse 11:14, earlier today."
Not knowing it that intimately, I wait for Gabriel to expand on his thought.
Gabriel looks like he's about to speak, biting his tongue instead and smiling through pursed lips. "Have a good day, Rhys."
Feeling as though I've just been slammed in biblical references, I turn on the spot and go to Ron's.
Carol is on the Anderson's doorstep, looking like she's debating whether to knock or just leave and eat cookies.
I meet her on the steps.
My words are blunt. "Why are you here?"
Hers are too. "Checking on Sam."
She pauses, neither of us going to knock. Carol frowns. "Why are you here?"
"To see Carl." I pause now. "...and Sam."
Carol stands up straight, her resting smirk turning into a beaming grin, "Well, that's just perfect!" She chirps before wrapping her knuckles on the door five times, now wholly in character as the lovable cook.
Ron's father answers the door. Tall and lanky, the man hunches over and leans against the door frame.
"Hi. Carol, right?" he gives a lazy smile. "And Rhys, how's that leg?"
"Fine," I shrug.
Carol puts a hand on my shoulder. I would admire her bravery if I wasn't overwhelmed with stopping myself from flinging her hand away.
"He is such a trooper, isn't he?" Carol laughs the fakest laugh. "Always has been."
Bitting back every instinct, I give a queazy smile.
Pete doesn't even seem to take the interaction in, which I'm glad about since I'm not sure I'm as good an actor as Carol.
"Do you need something?" the surgeon asks. "Not feeling well?"
"Well," Carol lets her smile drop a bit, "I was with Sam earlier. Is he okay?"
Pete leans forward, getting uncomfortably close to Carol's face. "Why wouldn't he be?"
Carol takes a second like she has to recalibrate her mask before putting it to use, but to my surprise, the mask slips. "Can I talk to Jesse?" Carol asks him firmly but still managing a small smile.
"Not a good time," Pete goes to shut the door until he looks at me like he'd forgotten.
He lets out a dramatic sigh, "You're here to see Ron?"
I nod.
Pete rolls his eyes before opening the door a small amount wider, letting me past him and into his home before shutting the door on Carol, her calling out for him to wait.
I head upstairs without saying another word to Pete. I consider knocking on Sam's bedroom door as I pass it, but decide to listen to the sign pinned to the outside.
-KEEP OUT AND LEAVE YOUR COOKIES-
Everyone is lounging in Ron's room, greeting me as I enter.
I ask Ron if his brother's okay, he and Enid sitting together on his bed like they usually do. He just shrugs at me.
Carl kisses me, and Mikey offers an awkward high-five which makes me laugh. His desperation to not be the third wheel of two couples is oddly amusing at times.
I sit in a beanbag Ron stole from his brother, watching Mikey and Carl play Mario Kart on Ron's NES. Carl picked Wario while Mikey plays Princess Peach. I watch them play for an hour or so, occasionally taking over when Carl gets frustrated, only for him to snatch the controller back minutes later.
When Ron goes downstairs to get us drinks, Enid throws a Twizzler at the back of my head.
"Ouch," I rub my skull despite it not hurting at all. I orientate myself on the awkward beanbag to face her. "Was there a reason for that? Or did you just think I wanted a Twizzler?"
She shrugs, "Noah got you that guitar, right?"
I nod, taking the Twizzler and giving it to Carl since I don't like the taste, and he hadn't eaten breakfast.
"Yeah," I nod, watching her as she fishes through the bag of Twizzlers for herself. Carl had given them to her when Rick insisted that he got too many sweets for his birthday.
"Why don't you play it?" she asks over a mouthful of synthetic strawberry.
"He plays it for me," Carl says smugly over his shoulder, cursing when Donky Kong overtakes him in his little go-kart, which really shouldn't hold the monkey's weight.
"Because you wouldn't shut up about it," I laugh.
Enid tilts her head, still waiting for an answer.
"I haven't really been in a music mood, I guess," I lean my chin against the bottom of the bed. "Also, it needs new strings."
"Is Noah getting you some today?" Mikey asks, smart enough to keep his eyes on the game.
"Nah," I tell him, "figured they've all got too much to worry about today. I'll ask him for next week's run."
Ron comes back, kicking the door open with his foot, a tray of five glasses and a pitcher of lemonade taking up his hands.
The afternoon is going by quick. I didn't believe Mikey when he said a storm was coming today, but when grey clouds roll over Alexandria's high walls, I ask Ron for the time.
"Four-ish," he tells me after looking lazily at his watch, dropping his arm back over Enid's shoulders where it had been resting.
"You absolutely need to get a watch," Mikey tells me with enthusiasm. "My dad has a collection in his study."
"Would he mind?" I ask, tilting my head, hoping.
"I doubt it. He won't even notice if I just take one," Mikey explains. "Do you guys wanna come over for dinner tonight? Ron and Enid are, and you can get your watch then."
"Can't," Carl tells him, "we've got to-"
"Babysit Judith," the other three all say in unison, laughing at us when we nod in affirmation.
"Here," Ron says to me, slipping off his watch and tossing it to me.
The wristwatch is simple, with neat brown leather straps and a gold border to match the hands and numbers.
"Sure?" I ask, already putting it on my own wrist, the metal back warm from Ron's arm.
He gives me a thumbs up. "I'll get a new one from Mikey, right?"
Mikey nods.
"See?" Ron says, giving me a cheesy grin.
I thank Ron, checking the watch to see that it's four-thirty. "Four-ish my ass," I laugh.
Carl and I leave, the clouds turning to rain as we walk. Drops of water fall lightly against my skin, like soundless whispers from the sky, gentle and unparticular as we leave Ron's street, a downpour rousing by the time we reach ours. The two of us laugh as we dash for the cover of the porch. Carl slips in the grass a few times, moisture bursting from the flooded earth each time he does. I pull him to his feet, falling too, both of us soaked and laughing and soaked again. I watch him as he laughs, hair soaked under the rainstorm. His hair is its own storm, its own thunder.
We clamber up the wooden porch of 99, our muddy shoes sliding against its surface.
Once inside, we're both drenched.
"Is everyone out?" Carl asks, dripping all over the hallway.
"Yep, everyone," I tell him, fetching us both towels from the laundry room.
"What about Maggie?" Carl takes the towel, wringing out his sodden hair.
"With Deanna today," I tell him as I run my towel across my face, the two of us making our way to my room. "They're working on some crop field plans, I think."
My room is warm and cosy, the curtains still drawn from this morning.
We sit on the edge of the bed, both still dripping onto the carpet, the sheets damp beneath us.
"I love that smell," Carl shuts his eyes and breaths in.
"Teenager?" I ask, smelling the room.
"No doofus," Carl simpers. "The smell of rain. The ground when it rains. I love the smell."
"Petrichor," I tell him.
"Huh?"
"That's what it's called," I chuckle, "when it rains, the smell is called petrichor."
Carl gazes at me, "You are just so damn smart, aren't you?"
I snort at him, not sure if that was a compliment.
I study Carl. He looks the way he did when we found the bottles from a friend. Water running down his cheeks and jumping between freckles, catching at his dimples. His hair is flattened and clumped from the rain, caught around his neck, plastered to his forehead, blue peering through it, seeing me the same way I'm seeing him.
"We don't have to babysit for another few hours," he whispers, shuffling to close the distance between us.
I try to speak, but Carl stops it all with a kiss, gently pushing me back to lie on the bed, orientating himself to sit on top of me.
He tells me he loves me, and I say it back. He then asks me to take off my clothes, and I do. He does it too, fingers catching against shirt buttons as he struggles to take off his flannel, jeans hitching on his ankles as he pulls them off without any grace to speak of. We're both breathless, both of us weighed down by the rain on the clothes we're not wearing, looking at each other, taking the other in. I let him see all of me for the first time, my nerves skyrocketing, taking off past the walls and into space. Safe and gone from here.
I finally tell him to get something from my side table, and he does, asking where I got it as he looks at the small square wrapper.
"Ron," I tell him. "Told me he knew we'd get bored eventually."
"You want to?" He asks nervously.
"I do," I nod.
His hands are cold against my flushed skin, water droplets tumbling from his face onto mine. I've never seen him so focused as I look up. He asks me if this is okay, and I tell him it is. I realise it's not the same as the barn, the rain. This rain is new. We're not the same. Carl looks like Carl, and I still look like me.
But now, we're somehow us.