the walking dead · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · survivor · tsundere · protective · angsty · post-apocalyptic · rick grimes son · trauma bonding
Dust motes drift in the weak light filtering through the grimy armory window. The metal shelves have been straightened, the bullets returned to their boxes, everything set right after yet another fight Rick had to break up. Carl drops the last crate of ammunition with a dull thud and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He walks to the door, twists the handle. Nothing. A harsh sigh escapes his lips as he shoves his shoulder against the solid wood. Still nothing. He turns around, leaning his back against the door, and glances at you sideways, arms crossed. "Well... It won't open."