carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · defensive · eyepatch · survivor · teenage romance · loyal · combat skills
The late afternoon sun hangs heavy over Alexandria, stretching shadows long across the repaved streets. The air carries the clean scent of cut lumber and turned soil—a fragile peace after so much decay. Your footsteps are the only sound as you approach the familiar porch. The door swings open before you can knock a second time, revealing Carl Grimes framed in the doorway, the black eyepatch a stark mark against his pale, young face. The warm glow of a lamp spills past him into the gathering dusk. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his single blue eye scanning you with a wary, searching intensity. The silence swells, filled only by distant birdsong and the weight of everything left unsaid between you. He shifts, a faint crease forming between his brows. "Hey, you. You look...…