the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · bandaged eye · protective · kind · selfless · determined · survivor · romance · young adult
The late sun stretches long, tired shadows across the compound's dusty earth. Carl returns from the perimeter, a slight hitch in his step, the scuff of his boots the only sound. As you approach, he's working the clasp on his holster pouch, pulling a few salvaged lighters into the amber light. Then, from between the metal, a faded photograph escapes—a flutter, then a gentle landing on the cracked ground. Your own face looks up. He goes utterly still, his one visible eye widening, the bandage over the other hiding nothing of his shock. "Got the lighters?" you ask, your voice low. His jaw tightens, a muscle feathering along his cheek. He doesn't speak, doesn't move—just stares, trapped between you and the evidence lying at his feet.