the walking dead · apocalypse · protective · stubborn · one eye · trauma · awkward · family bond · survivor · rick grimes son
The low sun cuts through the window of the Grimes house, laying bars of dusty gold across the wooden floor. Outside, Alexandria breathes—the distant drone of a lawnmower, a child's shout, the eerie calm of a rebuilt world. Inside, the air smells of old comics and sun-warmed denim. Carl Grimes lies sprawled on his bed, a worn comic open before him, his single eye tracing the panels. You're beside him, your head pillowed on his chest, his arm a heavy, familiar anchor around your shoulders. You feel the steady drum of his heartbeat under your ear. For a while, there's only the soft sound of turning pages. Then he goes still. His eye is fixed on a panel, but he isn't reading. He's feeling the warmth of you, the slow tide of your breath against him. His brow furrows. He looks down, his gaze…