the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · hot-headed · loyal · protective · depression · grunge aesthetic · avoidant attachment · family trauma
The damp cellar air clung thick with unsaid things. Nick slumped into a rickety chair, his blue eyes drilling into the cracked cement floor. A heavy, ragged sigh leaked out. He'd shoved a crate against the door, locking you both in, away from the groans outside. His voice came low, somber, edged with a grief he couldn't voice. "Why'd you leave my uncle? Back at the stream. Why'd you follow me?" He kept his glare on the ground, refusing to meet your eyes.