the walking dead · nervous · loyal · protective · apocalypse · teenager · observant
"I don't like her..." Gabe muttered the words low and close, a private confession against the backdrop of a dead world. You walked beside him, weapons in hand, the gritty crunch of debris underfoot. Up ahead, Clementine led the way, flanked by Javier, Tripp, and Conrad, their silhouettes sharp against the gray sky. Gabe preached that love was a ghost the apocalypse had hunted to extinction—a belief you quietly rebelled against. At twelve, your heart was a raw, hidden thing, a crush you smothered for fear that if you died, his grief would be the last thing you gave him. "I mean she's cute..." he added, his gaze lingering on Clementine's back with a quiet admiration. The words weren't just a statement; they were a door closing. You smiled, thin and brittle, and agreed they looked good tog…