"Why do you care?"
"Because you let me. No one's let me care for them before...but you did."
"I've never allowed anyone to care for me before you showed up."
"Well..."
"I suppose we're in similar predicaments."
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A Carl Grimes/Walking Dead F...
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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ
I've been sitting on the roof, awake, pillow clutched in my hands for a while now, waiting for the boy in the Sheriffs Hat to wake up.
Despite the sun already being high in the sky, Carl has not even stirred in his sleep as he continues to snore loudly.
Growing impatient at the boys ever sleeping state, I crouch down next to him and begin blowing a stream of air from my mouth, the pillow still clutched in my hand. I watch as his hair flicks lightly in the moving air and his hand instinctively moves to scratch at his head. When he finally begins moving, I start to speak. "Good mornin' Grimes."
"Let me sleep." He mutters and plants his face into the concrete of the roof.
"Nope," I stand up with the pillow raised above my head. "You stole the blanket all of last night and slapped my hand when I tried to get it back." The brunette rolls over and stares at me, eyes squinted from the harsh sun beating down on his face. "So this is payback." Quickly and with as much force as possible, I slam the pillow down upon the boys head to which he simply cover his face with his hands.
"It's not my fault, I was cold!" He defends and makes an effort to stand while still protecting himself from my beatings.
"Don't care." I deadpan back, hitting his roughly one more time before dropping the pillow to the ground. Carl takes a seat on the roof and I join him.
He sighs. "It's too early for this shit."
"It's almost noon."
"Shut up."
We laugh and smile, make jokes at one another and just generally enjoy each other company.
"You're annoying," He pushes on my shoulders and I laugh.
"You snore when you sleep." The boy rolls his eyes and palms his face with his hands.
"Yeah? Well you-"
BANG!
An explosion-like sound erupts from the front of the prison and my heart sinks. Without wasting a second, Carl and I scramble across the roof and stop at the very end, finding the top of a watch tower reduced to rubble and seething with a raging fire. The two of us crouch so just our eyes are able to peak over the roof. We simultaneously scan the area around the prison in search of the source of the explosion.
"There," Carl exclaims and I follow his extended finger to where he's pointing. There I find a horrifying sight. A group of people, maybe thirty, stand outside the fence of the prison. Each and every last one of them are armed with heavy machine guns and aggressive artillery. Surrounding them are trucks and cars and...
