❝tragic backstories and using the word "dude" romantically, that pretty much summed up carl grimes and elle coleman❞
[carl grimes x oc]
[seasons 3-11]
[not completed]
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❖
It was quiet in the cell block. Too quiet for anyone to enjoy it. The baby had fallen asleep, Rick was roaming the tombs, and Maggie and Daryl had left in search for formula, the one thing Elle hadn't had when she met them. She didn't even protest when they told her to stay put, she had had enough for one day.
And Carl needed her.
It took her a while to find him. She hadn't been looking too hard, more of a casual sweep over the cell block. But when she found him she was glad she did because he looked awful.
She didn't say anything as she sauntered into the cell he had holed himself up in. She held her arms across her chest and cast her eyes downward, her hair hanging in her face.
Guilt plagued her. Maybe letting Carl make sure Lori didn't turn was a mistake. Maybe instead of it bringing him closure it just brought him more pain. She hated herself for breaking Lori's promise. She had asked one thing of her and she couldn't even do that.
Eventually she forced herself to look at him. His eyes were focused on the wall in front of him but he acknowledged her presence by knocking their boots together.
"The day we met I told you my dad died," Elle broke the tense silence. "We were in the backseat of a cab. I was four years old. We were on the way to a father daughter dance. The light turned green. I can picture it clearly. Some asshole decided to run the red light. My dad noticed it before it happened. The guy would've ran straight into me. I should be dead. But my dad threw himself on top of me, took the full force of the hit."
Carl was looking at her now, and Elle held eye contact. It was hard. All she wanted was to look away. But she was telling this story for Carl. And the pain he had built inside him seemed to be flooding out.
"I'm the reason my dad is dead. It's not- it's not the same. I know that. But someone told me once that having someone to talk to that went through something similar is the best way to let it out. And in my experience that's been true. I'll listen, talk, give you advice, console you, whatever the hell you need. Just know that I'm here, okay?"
That was all she had to say. What would happen next would depend on Carl. Depend if he was ready to talk yet, or ready to face everyone down in the congregation area.
Elle stood up from her spot on the bottom bunk and headed for the exit.
"Elle," Carl called out with a hoarse voice from crying. "I didn't know."
"How could you?" she said, not facing him. "I didn't tell you that story to gain sympathy. Come find me when you're ready to talk."
Two kids, barely teenagers, bonding over parents that had died on their behalf. It was awful when you really thought about it. But that was the world, and it wasn't even due to the apocalypse.
