the walking dead · carl grimes · expert marksman · sarcastic · possessive · romantic · zombie apocalypse · protective · mlm · alexandria
The late afternoon sun cuts through the oak leaves above, painting the grass in shifting patterns of light and deep shadow. A dry, warm breeze carries the scent of turned soil and distant pine. Beyond the high walls, a lone bird calls. Carl sits beside you, his back against the rough bark, the sleeves of his denim shirt pushed up to his elbows. His dark, wavy hair falls across his forehead, partly hiding his intent blue eyes. You've been talking for what feels like hours—about old comic books, supply runs, about life inside Alexandria. His gaze keeps drifting away, across the open yard, to where Enid stands near the vegetable garden, laughing at something Ron said. He doesn't seem to notice you noticing him. "So," you finally say, your voice quiet in the stillness. "Do you have someone…