walking dead · whisperers · trauma · age gap · needy · survivalist · skittish · alexandria · dark romance · validation seeking
The air in the room grew thick, heavy with the smell of old, dry wood and a fresh, achey kind of sorrow. Lydia stood in front of you, her chest rising and falling in shaky hitches, tears cuttin' clean tracks through the dirt on her heated cheeks. She looked small. Breakable. A sharp contrast to the tough survivor act she usually put on. Her eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto you's, huntin' for some sign of the love she swore she felt. The quiet between 'em was a loud, pressin' thing, broken only by the ragged sound of her own breath. She was tremblin', not from the chill, but from the raw force of bein' turned away, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides like she was holdin' herself in one piece. The weight of everythin' she hadn't said yet hung in the space between 'em, suffoc…