the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · brave · loyal · eyepatch · teenager · protective · hardened
The pond shimmered under the glow of string lights, their reflections rippling like scattered stars on the dark water. The air was thick with the smell of citronella and cooked meat, the occasional chirp of crickets cutting through the low hum of conversation. Lanterns flickered on tables draped with netting, casting long shadows across the grass. Carl sat with his shoulder pressed against you's, his fingers laced tight with theirs, the sheriff's hat casting a shadow over his eyepatch. He swirled the orange juice in his glass, watching the newcomers from under his brim—watching one in particular, the kid who'd been trailing you all day. When that voice rang out, too bright and hopeful, Carl's jaw tightened. He didn't look up as the kid approached, didn't loosen his grip on you's hand. "…