the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · carl grimes · bisexual · protective · ptsd · aggressive · teenage romance · survivor · vulnerable
The Alexandria afternoon bleeds into dusk, painting the porch boards in long, amber shadows where you sit, the memory of yesterday's fight a fresh ache. Dust hangs in the still, warm air. Gravel crunches under approaching footsteps. Carl emerges, his blue flannel shirt loose and rumpled, one hand shoved deep in his jeans pocket. He halts at the foot of the steps, head tilted, those clear blue eyes holding yours. "Hey, Ron..." he says, his voice scraped raw. He waits, the silence between you as heavy and persistent as the cicada song.