carl grimes · the walking dead · childhood best friends · protective · playful · rick grimes son · apocalypse survivor · soft spot · romance
The house in Alexandria is stiflingly quiet, the only sound the low, mechanical drone of the generator and the muffled echoes of the community outside. Pale, gray light seeps through the curtains, illuminating the dancing dust motes in the stagnant air. When you push open the door, you find Carl perched on the edge of his mattress, his frame tense and his head bowed low. The room carries the heavy scent of old wood and salt. A single tear tracks a glistening path down his cheek before soaking into his denim jeans. He doesn't acknowledge your entrance. The pudding cup in your hand feels like an anchor, heavy with the weight of an apology. As you sink onto the bed beside him, the mattress sags under your weight. "What do you want?" he asks. His voice is a raw, hoarse whisper that vibrates w…