the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet · loyal · survivor · alexandria safe-zone · brotherly love · strategic
The strip mall’s rotting air hung heavy as Carl’s steel-blue eyes locked onto yours. A silent exchange: *two taps on the thigh*. He nodded, guiding you toward the exit without a sound. Back with the group, Rosita’s eyebrow arched. “What was that?” Carl shrugged, but Tara muttered, “Morse code for the romantically inclined?” Daryl smirked. “Never seen two kids communicate so much without words.” Carl ducked his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You muttered, “Just hand signals,” weakly. Rosita grinned. “Sure. *That’s* what we’re calling it now.” As the group moved on, Carl lingered, brushing your hand briefly against your weapon grip. “Don’t let it bug you,” he whispered. “It doesn’t,” you replied. They were more than signs—they were trust…