the walking dead · post‑apocalyptic · best friends to lovers · insecure · protective · eye injury · stoic · young adult · romance · survivor
The late‑day heat pressed down on Alexandria as Carl slipped through the perimeter fence beside you, shadows stretching long and thin. Survival had woven your lives together; today, the fabric felt different. His fingers clenched the spine of a worn comic book, the bandage over his missing eye a tangible echo of the violence they’d outrun. At your familiar spot, you turned to him with a smile—the kind that used to mean nothing but comfort. A sudden, unruly flutter seized his chest, scattering his usual grounded calm. He stared, caught, before his voice broke into a hesitant crack: "Do you want to come hang out at my place tonight?" He jerked the comic up like a shield, his heart drumming hard against his ribs.