Carl Grimes Imagines ➹ Smut&Fluff

Mad World (Fluff... or whatever)

This chapter isn't really fluff... but it definitely isn't smut... it's kinda just fucked up and idk. I like it. Cause I'm fucked up I guess.

Carl sits on the kitchen floor in tears as you wipe your silent tears from your cheeks. Carl howls and sobs ear-splittingly. You watch him from the living room couch in pity. You cradle yourself while trying to connect with Carl emotionally. You stand up and sit near Carl, but keep your distance respectfully. He reaches out for you with red puffy eyes and attempts to pull you to him. You scoot closer to him as he still sobs. Your arms wrap gently around him, he buries his head into your chest, and his cries muffle.

A guttural scream vomits out of his mouth. His anger, sadness, and hatred escape from screams, tears, and breaking things. He gets up and throws plates, cups, bowls, and utensils on the ground creating clattering and smashing noises oozing into your ears. He punches the cabinets and kicks the counters, enraged by everything. He screams again, ending in a low and sad cry. You watch him in all of his glory, smashing everything you both own.

Carl balls his fists together, "I HATE YOU!" he bellows, looking up at the ceiling, slowly shaking his fist.

He falls to the ground in a fetal position, and you crawl to him. You hold him in your arms, stroking his head lightly, "Why, (Y/N)? Why did it have to be him? Out of everybody... why my dad?" he asks you rhetorically. Your eyes water up again, and you stop trying to keep your tears in. You cry with Carl, resting your forehead on his.

"This world is horrible. This world is shit. This world is turning into Hell. This world isn't even a world anymore. It's already Hell. This world is mad. It disgusts me beyond anything. I want to die. There's nothing to live for, I give up on this Hell," he confesses, completely emotionless.

You open your puffy eyes and stare in to his blank ones, "Now Carl, you better take that all back right now. At least the last two sentences. You better not want to die. If you die, I die. Plus, there's plenty of stuff to live for. What about little Judy? She's only got you left. You're her last remaining family, Carl. I hope to God you take care of that little girl, regardless of anything. Didn't you want to start a family? Have kids? Isn't that important to you? Life, regardless of dead things roaming around everywhere, is still wonderful. I'd like to live mine with you, so don't leave anytime soon," you object, stroking his hair down to his cheek.

He stares for a little while, contemplating everything. You overhear him mumbling things, but never audible. You try to make out what he says, but to no avail. Sometimes he breaks down in tears, and sometimes he screams words to himself. He beats himself down, and then cries and agrees with himself. At one point, he mumbles to himself, "Am I going crazy?"

You lay back on the couch, sleepily. You struggle to keep your eyes open, but you want to make sure Carl doesn't do anything to harm himself.

You wait until Carl falls asleep, and when he finally does, you sit next to him. You lean against the counter like him, and examine his sad sleeping face. Sad frown, tear stains running down his red cheeks, damp hair, pale complexion, slightly puckered lips, and a runny nose. His choppy and tired breathing filling the room. You grab hold of his hand and squeeze it gently, a single tear escapes your eye.

"Please don't ever leave me alone, Carl."