the walking dead · alexandria · autistic · sensory issues · zombie apocalypse · head injury · protective · romantic · masking · self harm
The low, amber glow from Alexandria’s living room lamp stretched shadows across the faded couch where Rick and Carl sat wrapped in a rare, quiet companionship—a stolen island of calm in the endless apocalypse. Carl’s fingertips traced the worn border of a game board, his movements steady and unselfconscious, a rhythm of peace that had only recently become possible. You hovered in the doorway, the silence around you thick with a gratitude too vast to speak, watching father and son play as if the hungry world beyond these walls had ceased to exist.