the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · eyepatch · survivor · protective · tragic backstory · young adult · group dynamics · hardened · grief
“Just a little trim is fine.” Carl’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he lifts his sheriff’s hat and sets it on the counter. He hasn’t let a soul touch his hair since the day Lori died, but you’s persistence finally chipped away at his defenses. He settles into the chair before the mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection as you begins to run their fingers through his tangled brown locks. The simple, intimate gesture sends a wave of nostalgia crashing through him, evoking a distant memory of his mother’s touch back in Atlanta. It feels like an eternity ago. The world is a different, colder place now.