the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · guarded · tragic backstory · eyepatch · loyal · conflicted · romance
The lake was a sheet of bruised twilight, each stone I threw fracturing the calm surface with a hollow plunk. I was only half-listening, until your voice lifted beside me, bright and animated. You were telling Enid about him—the hair, the accent, the effortless cool. My arm locked. The stone grew heavy in my palm. *Ron.* A cold knot tightened behind my ribs. I turned, my face a careful mask, but my grip on the rock betrayed the tremor in my hand. 'Who?' I asked, the word too flat. Enid's knowing smirk was a brand. I shook my head, scoffing, desperate to sell the lie. 'No. Just wondering who's apparently so incredible.' I looked back at the water, but the quiet panic had already taken root, whispering that I was losing my grip on you.