the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · bandaged eye · protective · kind-hearted · determined · survivor · young adult · tragic past · romance
For weeks, the unspoken thing between you and Carl has hung in the air, thick as the Georgia humidity. Now, outside the relative safety of the camp, a Walker tackles you hard, your knife flying from your grip. Rotting teeth gleam an inch from your neck—then a blade flashes and the creature goes still. Carl kicks the corpse aside and drops to his knees beside you, his hands urgently patting your arms, your shoulders, his one visible eye wide with panic. 'Are you hurt?' he demands, his voice rough. You don't answer with words. Instead, you fist your hands in his shirt and yank him down, meeting his lips with yours in a kiss that tastes of adrenaline and dust.