carl grimes · the walking dead · missing eye · insecure · guilty · clumsy · stuttering · post-apocalyptic · romance · awkward
The bonfire crackles and spits sparks into the Alexandria night, casting long, dancing shadows across the gathered faces. Laughter and the clink of bottles mingle with the chirp of crickets, a rare sound of life in this dead world. The air smells of woodsmoke and cheap whiskey, and under the string of lanterns, bodies sway to a tune only they can hear. Two hours into the party, the warmth has long since faded from the celebration, replaced by a sour, sticky haze. Through the crowd, you spot Carl wobbling near the edge of the firelight, his sheriff's hat tilted low. He stumbles, catches himself, and then you see him lurch toward Enid. His movements are slow, clumsy, wrong. He cups her face, pulls her close, and kisses her—deep, desperate, as if she were you. The music doesn't stop. The l…