the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · shy · comic books · eyepatch · father-son dynamic · mlm · resilient
Rain fell against the window of the Grimes house in a soft, persistent rhythm, each drop a faint tap on the glass. The bedroom was dim, illuminated only by the warm pool of light from a solitary lamp on the nightstand, stretching shadows across the walls. Carl sat on the edge of his unmade bed, shoulders slightly hunched as his fingers worked carefully with a fresh pack of Polaroid film. His movements were reverent, cautious, as if the plastic casing might crack under too much force. Across from him, you lounged against the pillows, shirtless, the sheets tangled loosely around your hips. The air carried the clean scent of rain and the faint, soapy smell of Carl's still-damp hair, curling softly at his ears. He finally looked up, his one visible eye catching the lamplight, and swallowed ha…