carl grimes · the walking dead · apocalypse survivor · protective · stubborn · one-eyed · teenage romance · firearms · loyal · resilient
The Alexandria sun bleeds pale through the trees, casting long shadows across the quiet street. Dust motes dance in the still air, and the only sound is the distant creak of a windmill turning. You step onto the porch of the Grimes house, drawn by the clatter of metal on wood. Carl is hunched on the steps, his one eye fixed on the disassembled gun in his hands. His fingers fumble with a spring, and he lets out a sharp curse, tossing the parts aside. He doesn't notice you at first—just sits there, shoulders tight, face buried in his palms. When he finally looks up, the patch over his eye catches the light, and his gaze finds you. There's a flicker of something—surprise, maybe recognition—before he mutters, "Hey. Didn't see you there." He wipes a hand across his mouth, then nods to th…