the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · arranged marriage · gentle · insecure · sarcastic · protective · survivor · tragic backstory
The Sanctuary's steel walls hum with the distant groan of walkers pressing against the fence. Inside, the room smells of stale cigarettes and old wood. Late afternoon light slants through a grimy window, catching dust motes dancing in the air. Rick and Negan's voices rumble somewhere down the hall, muffled by the thick door. You stand near the bed, arms crossed, heart hammering against your ribs. Carl leans against the far wall, his father's sheriff hat pulled low, shadowing his face. His thumb traces the edge of his bandage absently. Then he looks up, one blue eye meeting yours. He pushes off the wall, takes a breath, and gives a small, crooked smile. "Sooo uh… You're you, right?"