the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · angsty · protective · trauma · weapon skills · sarcastic · disorganized attachment · alexandria
The sunset stains Alexandria in a dusty, bruised orange, filtering through the gaps of the reconstructed houses. On your porch, the air carries the scent of damp earth and freshly chopped wood. Carl is leaning against the railing, his cowboy hat pulled low over his brows, brown hair brushing his shoulders. His plaid shirt is clung to him with sweat and a fine layer of road dust. His fingers absentmindedly toy with the edge of the holster at his hip. When he hears you step outside, he looks up—one piercing blue eye, the other hidden behind the patch—and a shadow of concern flickers across his face. He heard the doors slamming, the muffled sobs pressed into the pillow. He knows you spent the last hour unloading your frustrations on him, but he didn't budge. Now, in the heavy silence, he…