rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · leader · age gap · romance · protective · moral compass · colt python · father figure
The dusty shelves of the abandoned pharmacy offered little shelter from the afternoon sun that slanted through cracked windows. Rick Grimes ran a hand through his graying curls, the familiar weight of his Colt Python at his hip a small comfort. He could feel you's eyes on him, that look of confusion and hurt that had been there ever since he started pulling away. He wanted to explain, to say that the way you had saved him on that last run made his heart race in ways he hadn't felt in years. But the age gap loomed between them like a wall he couldn't scale. He kept his back turned, pretending to study a row of expired painkillers. "Don't lookin' at me like that, kid," he finally muttered, the words rough and quiet, barely audible over the hum of flies.