Sage ➸ Carl Grimes

18 ➸ breathe

{Warning Sign by Coldplay}

[ I don't know how to stress this enough, so please, read this:

I'm trying to develop myself as a person and as a writer. But I can't do that without feedback.

How am I supposed to know how to fix my mistakes if nobody will tell me them?

Sage

I stirred awake, my eyes flickering as I pried through the slumber. The first thing I glanced at once my vision was cleared was the open, bedroom window. The horizon was consumed of red and pink lines, each morphing into lovely colors as the sun rose up.

I quickly remember this was the time I needed to get up. My eyes were heavily weighing down on me, but I made a commitment to make the Bishop's a warming breakfast: to open up to them.

You might be staying here, I realized. This farm may just be you and Carl's very last stop. This could be your home, and hidden behind the barrier of the apocalypse; the kind Bishop's could be your family.

I muttered inaudible words below my tired breath, finding the courage and strength within me to get up. I went to turn my body around and sit up by the edge of the bed, but a protective arm pinned me down into the sheets.

Carl's arm was looped and secured around my back. It was draping loosely, but not once throughout the night had he let go of me. Carl's eyes were fluttered shut, his lip drawn out sleepily. His hair tickled his nose, and I couldn't help but admire the pink, rawness his lips displayed. He softly snored near my ear. His shirtless body softly molded into mine, though it was sweet. Carl held me like he had no claim of my body, but he had every right to protect it from harm.

[A/N: How I'd kill to wake up next to that every morning.]

We aren't together, nor apart, I told myself. Carl and I are two survivors, both savaged into the dead. He doesn't need to call me His to treat me like it. Carl hates labels, because once its real: the damage can be done immensely.

I slowly wriggled out of his sleepy embrace, managing to sit myself upright on the edge of the bed. My sandy hair collected in knots on my shoulders, and I rubbed my eyelids.

I titled my head, glancing back at a sleeping Carl Grimes.

His legs tangled together, while his arms held my absent body. I could hear his lovely, slow breaths as he slept soundly: comforted within the mattresses sulking embrace.

I found myself smiling gently, biting down on my lip to prevent it.

I used my hand to push the hair off his forehead, tangling the brown strands at my fingertips. His eyelids were shut, which kept me from seeing the color of blue. Blue reminded me of the sky, blue reminded me of lovely, running water. But above all: blue reminded me of Carl Grimes' endearing eyes, and how seeping into them brought me sanity.

Breathe, I reminded myself. Breathe the fresh air within the atmosphere and remember that without Carl Grimes, you would not at all.

My heart fluttered as I admired a sleeping Carl. I wished to crawl back into his accepting arms and not ever have to worry, but I couldn't. Even if I loved him with all my dainty heart.

I emerged from the bed, dragging my feet against the wooden floorboards. I held no desire to be up this early: ever since I ran away from the Hospital, I had spent countless nights restlessly. I slept with one eye open, if at all. I lived with a cloak of fear on my shoulders, and inside this Farm had risen it.