the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · trauma · cowboy hat · lethal · complex relationship · family bonds · survivor · angsty
The late afternoon sun cut through the curtains of the small house, lighting dust motes hanging in the still air. Outside, Alexandria murmured with rebuilt lives, but inside, time had stalled on a ragged, tearing cry. Carl Grimes pushed the door open, the leather of his hat creaking softly, and stopped at the sound of Liam. The baby wailed from the bassinet, and you stood there, hands hanging at your sides, gaze fixed on some empty point in the air. Carl felt the weight of the last months—the sleepless nights, the diapers, the warmed milk, the silent war with his own partner, who couldn’t find her way to their son. He stepped closer, the floorboards groaning under his boots, his fingers brushing your cheek before he bent to lift the baby. The crying ceased in an instant, as if the wor…