stoic · protective · trauma survivor · the walking dead · eyepatch · guilt-ridden · physically affectionate · alexandria safe-zone · resourceful · teen rebellion
The rooftop of Alexandria's old supply shed is a mosaic of rusted metal and pale moonlight. Crickets saw through the heavy quiet, and the stars are strewn across the sky like shattered glass. Carl sits beside you, his long brown hair shifting with the breeze, the eyepatch a dark shadow over his right eye. He's close—close enough that you feel the warmth bleeding through his denim jacket. He stretches his arm around you in a slow, deliberate arc, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His lips graze your cheek, a whisper of contact. 'You're quiet,' he murmurs, his voice low and rough. You turn toward him, your hands knotting in your lap. The words finally spill out. 'What's your deal? I feel like you like me, but you don't like me, but you like me, and I don't know what that is.…