❝ People died. Every day without fail. And they stayed dead. But now . . ? ❞
The Apocalypse was a clear reminder that karma comes big. One day civilization was going to get punished for the wrong they committed. But the virus didn't choose between t...
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Here they lay, no need to watch their backs, in front of the very same fire they would've had to snuff out if they were anywhere else. Free to converse without it being a whispered warning.
Lucas's voice is nothing but a mere murmur, subconsciously watching his volume. It's something that's stuck with him since before. Before the group swept him off his feet and somehow made him stay.
And he wishes to never be alone like that again, no matter how much he despised everyday conversation - though, that was a thing in the past too, wasn't it?
There had been a part of him reserved for his mother, the only person that understood him. But she had passed, and his loathing for the world had nowhere to go. The pitying glances had him snarling a warning. He hated the lies, the fake conversations people twisted into mockery behind his back. Then came the fighting. He was in high school, of course people rubbed him the wrong way. Throwing a few fists until his knuckles throbbed was one of the few ways he could let all that shit out. Then he met Kaine and Nicolá.
The difference now, in the apocalypse, is vast. For one, they no longer care about how they're perceived by others, and Lucas finds it a lot easier when people are real.
It isn't until Beth and Maggie start singing that night, most of them sitting around the fire eating the mushrooms they'd managed to gather, that Lucas relaxes against the bags he has placed under his head.
He groans, quietly, throwing an arm over his eyes - because god is his body hurting now that he's listening to it.
Lucas could sleep like this. Lack of rest has him struggling to keep his eyes open already. Beth and Maggie's voices are like a lullaby to his ears.
Something hits his knee, and he jerks upwards, immediately on alert. Daryl just cocks an eyebrow down at him from where he's standing with Carol.
Lucas stifles a yawn. "You alright?" He whispers.
Daryl shows his empty bowl as an answer, and tips his chin at him, "Thanks."
Lucas nods. With Daryl on first watch, Carol thought it good to deliver his dinner - noticing it, he'd tipped the rest of his own into the bowl and ignored Lori's pointed look.
"Are you okay?" Carol asks, brows furrowed in that familiar way of worry.
If you told eight-months-ago Lucas that he and Carol would get pretty close, he'd tell you to go fuck yourself. During the time of Sophia's disappearance, Carol needed people to blame, and he and Rick were prime targets. Of course, when she overheard how hard they were working to find her little girl, she realized there was no fault to put on anyone.
She really only started to coddle him after he revealed his age.
"Just sore," Lucas says, lidded eyes striving to remain open.
