"Put Up"

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Title: Put Up
Characters: Clementine, Kenny, Kate
Summary: In Richmond, Kenny notices that a boy is being rather persistent when it comes to bullying Clementine. So, Kenny takes on the responsibility of teaching her how to fight.
Author's Note: I'm so happy with how with one turned out AHHHH YAY
Requested By: simply_psychopathic on Wattpad
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user: justajournalist
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Clementine seldom ever cried. She had seen so much in her short, fragile life that not a lot phased her. So, when she did cry, that's when Kenny knew something terrible had happened. So, it explained why he felt his blood run cold as Clem entered their building in Richmond, sniffling and rubbing at her cheeks.

"Clementine?"

"Hi Kenny." She said, muffled through her coat.

He swivelled from the opposite direction he'd been facing, hoping that turning toward her could give him a better glimpse of what was going on, but she refused to face him. She was extremely focused on unbuttoning her coat and sliding her shoes off; too much so to face him.

That's when he knew that something was really wrong.

Kenny frowned, squinting, trying his best to read her despite only seeing her back. "Clem, are you okay?"

She hesitated. He could practically hear her nervous gulp. "I'm fine."

He squinted. "You don't look fine."

Clementine groaned, starting for an unused chair. She set down her bag, popped it open, and began rifling through it. "I'm just having a disagreement with another kid, that's all."

Kenny frowned. "Disagreement? As in how?"

"We just don't get along." Clementine responded, her tone wearing thin. "It's fine. It's not a big deal."

For a beat, Kenny was silent, staring at the stick he was whittling as his current project. He hesitated, turning it over in his fingers, before speaking again. "So, what? He fights with you for chores? Turns kids against you?"

"Kenny, can you please just drop it?" She begged, turning around, shoulders sagging. He could tell her eyes were puffy; clearly dishevelled and sore.

"Fine, fine. I'll drop it." He turned back to what he was working on, running his knife over his stick once more. "It's that fuckin prick Seth, isn't it?"

"Kenny."

He slapped his stick down, fed-up with the task. "I can't just drop this, Clementine. This isn't something I can just let go of."

"It isn't that big of a deal."

"Some little shit is bothering you to the point of tears. That's a fucking big deal."

Clementine scowled as she turned half-way to face him, giving up on trying to organize her bag as a distraction. There was no use now. They were down the rabbit hole. The conversation was happening whether she liked it or not. "There's nothing that can be done to stop it, so I might as well just accept it."

Before he had a chance to offer any other change of debate — before he could carry the conversation any further — she stormed to her room, sealing the door behind her. He knew, just based on her tone and frustration, that that was the last he'd see her that day.

Dishevelled, he tossed his stick onto one of the nearby counters, pocketed his knife, and sunk his head into his hands. It was moments like these where he missed Sarita and Katjaa the most; moments where Clementine needed a mother.

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