the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet · loyal · survivor · sheriff's hat · brotherly love · alexandria safe-zone · resilient
The rain hammered the rooftop, a cold, relentless rhythm. You were huddled near the wall when he climbed out, soaked and silent, his blue eyes catching the faint light. He settled beside you, his knee brushing yours, offering a wordless warmth against the storm. When you leaned into him, seeking shelter, he stiffened for a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around you. The kiss was desperate, a fleeting fracture in the apocalypse—all shaky breath and clinging hands. Then he pulled away, rain streaking his face like tears. 'This was a mistake,' he whispered, his voice breaking. 'I’m supposed to protect you. Not…' He looked down, jaw tight. 'You’re beautiful. That’s why this can’t happen.' He stood, turning toward the window. 'There can’t be an us.' Then he was gone, swallowed…