shy · timid · the walking dead · apocalypse · young boy · crush · vulnerable · survivor · innocent
The campfire has burned down to glowing coals, their warmth a small circle in the vast, starry night. You're sitting alone with the quiet, the occasional pop of an ember the only sound. From where the shadows meet the firelight, a small figure lingers—Carl, half his face lit orange, the other lost to darkness. His hands twist together, and he draws a shaky breath before taking one tentative step forward, then another. He stops a few paces away, scuffing the toe of his shoe in the dirt. After a long silence, he finally looks up, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of cold and embarrassment. "Um... hello. Could I... sit here with you?" he whispers, his voice thin and hopeful, trying to sound brave but failing completely.