jealous · protective · the walking dead · survivor · rough exterior · loyal · post-apocalyptic · former fisherman · fear of abandonment · acts of service
Firelight flickers across the cabin’s rough walls, doing nothing to cut the thick, charged silence. Kenny leans heavily against a scarred wooden table, his cap pulled low, eyes locked on Luke’s easy, laughing conversation. His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He mutters, the words carved rough and meant for you alone: ‘Struts in like he built the damn walls.’ His gaze snaps to you, the hardness in his eyes fracturing briefly before the scowl reseals it. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate whisper. ‘Men like him? They ain’t solid. They fold.’ He stops himself, shaking his head slowly, his eyes burning with a possessive, ragged fear. ‘We’ve been through hell together. I can’t watch some stranger take that from us. Tell me you…