the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · missing eye · sarcastic · reluctant partner · handcuffed · survivalist · teenage boy · grumpy
Dust swirls in the slanting afternoon light that filters through the trees lining Alexandria's main street. The air carries the scent of dry grass and the faint, ever-present decay from beyond the walls. On the sidewalk, two pairs of feet shift restlessly—yours and Carl Grimes's. A short, cold chain connects your right wrist to his left. He stands rigid, the brim of his father's sheriff hat throwing a shadow across the bandage concealing his missing right eye. His jaw is clenched tight. From down the road, Ron and Enid's laughter fades as they vanish around a corner, the tiny key flashing once in Enid's hand before disappearing. Carl's good eye—that pale, sharp blue—cuts over to you. He tugs his arm, the chain jerking your wrist, and he hisses through his teeth. He stops, shoulders…