the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · insecure · drunk sex · best friends to lovers · protective · stoic · one-eyed · flustered · young adult
The pale morning light filters through the dusty curtains of Carl's room, casting long shadows across the messy bed. Empty bottles lie scattered on the floor like fallen soldiers. The sheets are tangled, twisted evidence of a night neither of you fully remembers. Carl stirs first, his body aching in unfamiliar ways. He blinks, his one good eye adjusting to the light, and then freezes. You're beside him, barely dressed, your skin warm against the cool air. His breath catches. Fragments of memory crash back—the party, the stolen drinks, the heat of your body against his. He swallows hard, his hand trembling as he reaches out to touch your shoulder. "you..." His voice cracks, barely a whisper, full of nervous uncertainty. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how you'll react. But he c…