↳ it's who we are now...
oc x carl grimes
season 4-7
TW: Mentions of death, gory depictions, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, language, smoking, violence, depression, and other mature topics.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of The Walk...
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I wake up the next morning when the sun starts shining through the barn slats. My face is right next to Carl's, close enough to see each freckle on his cheeks. I feel his warm breaths skim my cheeks as he continues to sleep, brushing my skin with the sheet softness. After sleeping next to him for nearly a month now, I notice how much more peaceful he seems when he's asleep. It makes it seem like nothing ever happened to any of us - that he's still untouched and innocent from any wrongs. Even though he's one of the more optimistic individuals of our group left, it doesn't top the way his gentle eyelids flutter as he dreams.
I sit up, backing away slowly so I don't wake Carl. I'd feel horrible if I did. Not too many other people are up yet. I notice Maggie and Sasha missing from the group, but with everyone else still soundly sleeping, I assume they went for a walk or to search for some food or water that's been left behind as a result of the storm last night.
Daryl isn't far off to my left, so I naturally gravitate towards him. His back is pressed against the wall, his nearly knees hugged to his chest as he fiddles with a piece of dried up straw in his hands. I seat myself beside him, nestling into the hay myself, looking into his solemn eyes. I wait for him to say something to me.
He doesn't.
"You saved us last night," I whisper lightly, deciding my words of affirmation should come first. If he wouldn't have seen the walkers, we could all be dead right now. Even if someone else would've miraculously caught them a second later, it would've absolutely caused some sort of trouble. "We all did it together," he sighs humbly.
I shake my head. "It was you. If you wouldn't have caught it first, we might've all been killed."
"Why aren't ya sleeping?" he shoots back, trying to change the subject. He jabs the piece of straw in his hands in the direction I came from.
"I'm not tired enough to sleep. Well, I'm always tired, but I don't know if I can any longer. I'm already up." One thing I noted when I awoke was the soreness and tension within my arms and calves, all of which surely arose after last night's endeavors. "Dreams are shitty, you know." Even though, looking back now, I don't remember any of my dreams from last night, the thoughts still creep into my brain far too often for them not to be a concern.
"Don't say that."
"What?" I smirk.
He almost repeats the word he was referring to before thinking better of it. "You know what I'm talkin' 'bout." I laugh a little, the giggle bubbling in my chest.
"If it fits, I'm gonna use it. It'd be a waste if I didn't, wouldn't it?"
"Fine," Daryl shoots back. "Are ya feeling better today? Ya hit your head hard the other day."
