Work Text:
When Ron coughs up the first petal, he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He knows about the flowers, of course he does, but it doesn’t click. The petal, soft and white under the streaks of blood, sits in Ron’s hand. He stares, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, why he coughed up part of plant, before he remembers.
Even then it doesn’t make sense. He isn’t in love with anyone. Especially not now, in the middle of a war. He’s got bigger things to worry about. He needs to keep his family safe. He doesn’t have time to worry about loving someone.
As much as he tries to deny it, Ron knows the truth. He wraps the petal in a tissue and throws it in the trash, shoving it down the side of the bin to make sure no one finds it.
He goes to bed with a heavy heart and a burning in his throat. He’s in love with someone, and it’s going to kill him.
The war continues to escalate. Rick comes back, gives a letter to Carl and Michonne. A lot of people are dead. Rick says they're winning, but it’s only a matter of time before the Saviors attack.
The petals don’t stop. It seems that there’s more each day, more blood with each petal. Ron cries almost every time a petal comes up. It’s going to kill him. In the old world, he could have had the disease removed. It’s not option now; his dad is a surgeon but there’s no proper medical equipment. Such a surgery would likely kill him anyway. It’d be a waste of time and resources.
Everyone is preparing for a fight. Carl and Michonne take charge; they supply the Alexandrian’s with guns and come up with escape plans for those too young or too old for a battle. Escape plans for everyone, in the worst case scenarios.
Carl is strong. He’s standing in the face of war and he’s not faltering. Ron admires it. He wishes he could be that strong for his family. He wishes he wasn’t going to die.
There’s something in the way Carl smiles at Ron, the way he assures Jessie and Sam that everything will be okay as he drops off weapons, that makes warmth mask the dry ache in Ron’s chest. Ron thinks it’s respect. Something inside of him tells him it’s more than that.
It’s late in the evening just a few days after Rick stops by that the Saviors come. When people hear Negan’s voice over the speaker, they rush out of their homes, waiting for direction. Waiting for someone to make everything okay.
Carl and his family are gathered not far from the gate, so that’s where everyone goes. Negan gives them five minutes. Carl is frantic as he gives orders.
“Everyone needs to get out and get to Hilltop,” Carl says, his voice commanding despite the way it shakes, “Tobin, you know the way. Stay in the forest and stay quiet. If there’s walkers, you all know what to do. The Saviors are here. You won’t need to worry about them.”
Carl addresses his family next. “You need to make sure they get out. Get them on their way safe and then.. You know where we meet. I’ll be there. If I’m not.. You wait until it’s safe and then you go.”
“Carl,” Michonne grabs the boy’s upper arm, “What are you going to do to?”
Carl glances at the wall. “I’m gonna distract them so they can get out.”
Michonne’s eyes widen and she shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I have to,” Carl says softly, smiling at the woman, “Negan likes me. If anyone can do this, it’s me.”
Ron’s heart begins to race. A familiar burn builds low in his throat and he knows a petal is coming. He’s scared, and he isn’t sure if he’s scared for Carl or scared of losing him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ron says.
Carl turns to Ron and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. All you need to worry about is getting your family to the Hilltop, alright?”
Carl steps forward, puts a hand on Ron’s shoulder. It burns. Ron swears he can feel his skin melting in the shape of Carl’s fingers. “Remember what my dad and I taught you, okay? Keep them safe,” Carl whispers. “I’ll get there soon. Don’t worry about me.”
Negan starts to talk again. Ron knows they don’t have any more time to discuss. They have to do what Carl has said.
“Go,” Carl says, walking quickly to the wall, “I’ll be there.”
Michonne watches with a pained expression. Ron sees that she wants to go after him.
“Listen to the man,” Michonne eventually says when no one moves, “Let’s go.”
They make it to the Hilltop without a scratch. The trip took them all night and everyone is exhausted, but they made it. They’re safe.
Ron and his family are given a room in the Barrington house. His mom and dad share the bed and Ron and Sam sleep on blankets on the floor. They don’t complain. They’re lucky to be alive.
It’s just getting to be light out when Ron falls asleep. He dreams of Carl. The way his long hair curls around his soft cheeks, the shining blue eyes that peek out beneath his bangs. His smile and his soft lips. Ron dreams of kissing him. In his dream, the kiss cures him of his disease.
Ron wakes with a start, just a short hour after he fell asleep. He gasps for air, clutching on to his chest. Before he can move, coughs tickle his throat. He’s barely able to stifle them as he rushes to find a bathroom.
When Ron finally coughs hard enough, a dried, browning petal falls into his hand.
It takes a second for it to hit him. Somehow, Ron’s been cured.
Ron drops the petal into the garbage can with a laugh. He isn’t going to die. Whoever he loves must finally love him back.
It’s late afternoon before the others arrive, led by Daryl.
He’s holding Judith, and it only takes Ron a few seconds to figure out who isn’t there. Rick. Michonne. Carl.
Maggie is the first one to ask. “Where’s Rick?”
Daryl looks down at Judith, and then at Carol. “The Saviors had grenades.. burned the place to the ground,” he begins, sighing softly before he continues. “It’s Carl. He was bit. He.. wouldn’t’ve made it here. They stayed with him.”
Ron feels his mouth open, his lungs pull in a deep breath of air, but the action doesn’t register in his brain. Carl is dead. He got bit and he’s gone.
That’s when it hits him. He wasn’t cured of his disease because his love was reciprocated.
Ron was cured because the one he loved is dead.