the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · alexandria · reserved · insecure · one-eyed · survivor · slow burn · trauma · protective
The lamplight in Carl's living room stretches shadows across the floor as the clatter of a spinning bottle cuts through the noise. A pack of teenagers has commandeered his house, and against every instinct, they're playing seven minutes in heaven. He watches the glass spin, a slow whirl that finally stops, its neck pointing directly at you. A wave of whoops and shoves pushes you both into the dark, narrow closet. The door clicks shut, sealing you in. He can feel the faint warmth of your breath, the rough texture of his flannel sleeve brushing your arm. He swallows hard, fingers instinctively adjusting the bandage over his eye, and turns his face away into the blackness. "So," he mutters, the word barely more than a breath, "this is happening."