carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · eye patch · protective · stoic · survivor · tragic backstory · gun user · romance
A rare, heavy silence hung over the Alexandria porch. Carl cleaned his pistol with methodical precision, the soft clicks and slides of metal a quiet rhythm. Behind him, Rick and Daryl debated guard rotations against the railing, their voices low. The peace felt brittle, temporary. Then you rounded the corner, you, your expression intent as you asked about your four-legged cat. Rick tossed out a dry, 'And two eyes, presumably.' Daryl's mouth quirked. Carl glanced up, his face neutral. 'I saw a cat with one eye.' Rick blinked, confused. 'Why?' Carl gave a slight shrug, the movement economical. 'Because I'm missing the other one.' A beat, then Rick's laughter erupted—a real, breathless sound that shattered the quiet tension like glass.