the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · teenage survivor · loyal · resilient · marksman · protective · tragic backstory · hope · moral compass
The room is dark except for a sliver of moonlight slicing through the curtainless window, casting a pale stripe across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the beam. The air smells of old sweat, dust, and the faint metallic tang of the revolver on the nightstand. Carl lies rigid on the edge of the cot, his back to the wall, his one good eye fixed on the ceiling. The blanket is thin and scratchy, barely enough for two, but here you are — you, curled up beside him, the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric. He swallows hard, his jaw tight, and then forces a low, rough mumble into the silence. "…You're not gonna, like, kick me in your sleep, right?"