averescu ϟ Carl Grimes Gay

five.

F I V E
T H E O D O R E

"Good morning, mister."

"It's just another day, baby boy."
I shrug, biting down on the fork in my hand.

"Do positive and optimistic things poison you?"

"No, I just choose not to fuck with 'em."

"It wouldn't hurt to smile once in a while."
He replies, spreading some maple syrup over his pancakes.
"Would it?"

"Yes."
I nod.
"Smiling is like a parasite— it eats my fuckin' insides so that I slowly die a miserable and heinous death."

"You are a very violent man, Mr. Theodore."
He tilts his head to the side, staring at me with those pretty blue eyes.
"You have a lot of tattoos, I wasn't expecting that— there are so many."

"I'm a violent man because I have tattoos?"

"What? No!"
He squeaks, shaking his head.
"That's not what I'm saying!"

"I'm just fuckin' with you, sweetheart."
I chuckle, stabbing the fork down into the blueberry waffles on my plate.
"27."

"What?"

"I have 27."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Is that even possible?"

"Hell yeah."

"Can I ask you why you have piercings?"

"Because I like them?"

"But, we kill walkers every single day of our lives. Why bother with eyebrow, nose, and lip piercings?"

"It's an aesthetic, yeah?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"It used to be a ranking system, but I've made it fit into my aesthetic."

"A ranking system?"

"Nose for Gold, Eyebrow for Platinum, and Lip for Diamond."

"I don't get it, mister."

"Okay."
I grumble, taking a deep breath.
"When someone goes into the military, they're more than likely starting out as a Private."

"Yeah."

"Private E-2, Private First Class, Corporal— you rank up, you get new opportunities and benefits, and badges."
I explain.
"Think of every piercing— and some tattoos to an extent— as a badge and rank."

"So, you were in a gang?"

"No."
I shake my head.
"No, I was not."

"Oh."
He nods.
"You're still in a gang."

"It's not a gang, Carl Grimes."
I sneer, watching him frown and immediately unclenching my jaw and relaxing my expression.
"It shows worth, baby."