The Lucky One//twd

054. Secret Confessions

The front door clicked shut behind Rick, and for the first time in days, the church was quiet again.

I watched through the cracked stained-glass window as the group headed down the road—Rick, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Sasha, and even Tyreese. Daryl had insisted they needed more food, medicine, and maybe even ammo if they were lucky. Gabriel stayed behind in the sanctuary, locked in prayer or fear, I couldn't tell the difference.

That left me and Blake alone in the side room we'd been calling ours. Just the two of us, and Judith asleep in the other room with Gabriel "supervising." Blake had made her a little bed of coats and torn-up pew cushions. We had a few hours, at least.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to focus on the map Glenn had left, but my mind kept drifting—Beth, the prison, Shane. My own hands, the ones that had pulled a trigger to save Blake, and the ones that had failed to stop everything else.

"You're thinkin' too loud," Blake said from behind me, voice warm and rough like gravel wrapped in honey. "I can hear it from here."

I smirked without looking back. "That obvious?"

"Always is with you." I heard him set something down on the table. "Want me to shut up?"

"No," I said, turning to face him. "I want you to sit with me."

He dropped to the floor beside me without hesitation, his leg brushing mine. That one small touch lit a fuse somewhere deep in my chest. We sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind slip through the cracks in the church's foundation. Then I felt his eyes on me.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Blake shrugged. "Just thinking about how you haven't looked at me like that since... since ever, maybe."

I tilted my head. "Like what?"

"Like I'm the only damn thing keeping you from drifting away."

I didn't answer. I just reached for him.

The kiss was soft at first—like the ones before—but this time, there was something heavier beneath it. Need. Trust. The kind of affection that doesn't burn hot and vanish—it smolders and stays.

My hands slid into his hair, his arms wrapped around my waist, and soon we were tangled together on the floor. I kissed him again, deeper this time. His lips tasted like salt and something sweeter I couldn't name. I couldn't get close enough—I didn't want space, not with him.

"Wait," I murmured, breathless, pressing my forehead to his. "We don't have to rush anything—"

"I'm not rushing," he said, voice hoarse. "But if you don't want to—"

"I want to," I whispered. "I just want it to be right. And... safe."

Blake leaned back just enough to look me in the eyes. "I found some supplies the other day. Condoms. Figured we might need them sometime."

I blinked at him, surprised. "You were planning this?"

"No," he said, smiling just barely. "I was hoping."

Something in my chest melted. I pulled him close again and kissed him hard, all teeth and urgency, pressing my body into his. He lifted me gently, setting me down on the old cot in the corner. I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and for a moment it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us.

His fingers traced the hem of my shirt, but didn't push. Everything about him was gentle, patient—asking, not taking.

"You're sure?" he asked one last time.

"I've never been more sure," I said.

We kissed again, and everything else faded—the war outside, the fear, the guilt, the endless death. All of it slipped away under the weight of his hands, the warmth of his skin, the way his eyes never left mine.

There was no fire or fury in it. Just care. Just us.

We moved together quietly, reverently, like we were trying to remember how it felt to be human again. And when it was over, we stayed curled together under the threadbare blanket, our foreheads pressed together, breathing in sync.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but it felt like forever.

And for once, forever didn't seem so far away.