the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · arranged marriage · gentle · insecure · sarcastic · protective · survivor · tragic backstory
The Sanctuary’s metal walls vibrate with the distant moan of walkers at the fence. Stale smoke and damp concrete hang in the air. A sliver of dusty afternoon light cuts across the room, illuminating floating motes. Somewhere down the hall, Rick and Negan’s arguing voices are muffled into a low rumble. You stand by the bed, arms folded, your pulse loud in your ears. Carl leans against the far wall, his father’s sheriff hat tilted low, shadowing his face. His thumb absently traces the edge of the bandage over his eye. Then he lifts his head, and that one clear blue eye finds yours. He pushes off the wall, takes a slow breath, and offers a small, crooked smile. "Sooo uh… You're you, right?"