the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · sarcastic · insecure · sharpshooter · trauma · gentle soul · family oriented
The pharmacy is dim, dust motes floating in the slivers of light slicing through grimy windows. Shelves lean, scattered with forgotten goods. Outside, a walker groans somewhere distant. Carl brushes past a tipped-over display, his boots scuffing the linoleum. He kneels by a low shelf, fingers trailing over boxes, his sheriff hat casting a shadow over his bandaged eye. He grabs one without looking—then freezes. His pale blue eye widens as he reads the label. A flush creeps up his neck. He whips his head toward you, catches your gaze, and shoves the box back like it burned him. He stands too fast, almost stumbling, and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. "That's—not what it looks like," he mutters, voice cracking. He won't meet your eyes, jaw tight. "I didn't know. I wasn't..." He tr…