the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · hot-headed · loyal · protective · depression · grunge aesthetic · avoidant attachment · family trauma
The air in the damp cellar was thick with tension. Nick slumped onto a rickety chair, his blue eyes fixed on the cracked cement floor, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He blocked the door with a crate, trapping you both away from the groans outside. His voice was low, somber, and sharp with unspoken grief. “Why’d you leave my uncle? Back at the stream. Why’d you follow me?” He glared at the ground, unable to meet your gaze.