THE DAYS CRAWLED BY the three of them like spiders on bark, weaving and spinning in and out swiftly and silently. It had felt as if no time had passed since Rick's disappearance, yet - it also felt like it had been decades.
Carl grew more distant as the time veered on, less happy. They say time heals all wounds, but Carl's was cutting deeper and deeper each minute they spent sheltered under those trees. The cigarette in his mouth crackled and fizzed on it's own edge as he swivelled it between two fingers, staring ahead like he had nothing complex to think about.
"Told you to stop stealing those things off Daryl, he's gonna go mad," she said, announcing herself into the night. He didn't flinch as she spoke - not even trying to acknowledge her presence. He's sitting by the fire, the flame emitting warm light to his soft features. He looks confused, like he's thinking hard about something, yet Jane can't shake her total admiration for him. Everything about him, his faults, his new quiet nature - Because in the light, he seeps with charm and glows with beauty.
Daryl is still asleep, in his tent. And in the dead of night, Carl was awake - something not so unusual anymore. It's not the nightmares that wake him like it had been months ago, instead it's almost insomnia - he can't get his eyes to shut or his mind to stop working.
"It's cold." She says, lifting her arms over her chest, attempting to keep the little body heat she had in. It's been nine months.
She sits herself down beside him, their shoulders brushing together gently as she scoots closer to the boy. Her voice is sleepy, drawn out and spacey.
"Did I wake you again?" He asks, so quiet it's almost hidden by the occasional whistle of wind. He exhaled all the smoke from his mouth, holding the cigarette down by his knees.
She looks to the floor. He did.
"You can talk to me," she tells him, in a hushed, calming manner all whilst perching her chin on his shoulder as innocently as possible. He turns his face toward hers, their noses almost touching. She can feel his warm breath on her lips, and it feels so familiar - even though they hadn't been this close in two days. He presses his mouth to hers effortlessly, immediately putting her at ease.
It's just a small peck, but retrospectively, it means so much more than that. They break apart, faces still pointed close together - her eyes flitting up and down between his lips and his pretty hands, now laced with her own.
"I'm with you, whatever you do," she whispers, before going in for another peck.
He nods, swallowing hard as the tension in his hands tighten. He can't stop thinking of the image of her: asleep, tucked into the bed that was meant to be hers, the lamp still burning bright beside her - illuminating her face in all it's glory. It's every time he looks at her that a voice seems to ring back: she's not meant to be here, and it's all your fault.
"Here, look, if we sit on the floor, we're closer to the fire. It's warm." He told her, directing her down to the floor with a gentle hand. He took off his jacket, swinging it round her shoulders as her head falls to rest lightly on his.
"Listen," she says after a minute of soft silence, "I know we haven't talked in awhile. And that's okay, but if there's anything you wanna say....." she hesitates, continuing on, "well...I keep thinking about what it was like, when you were hurt. How alone I was. I don't want you to feel like that. Because maybe I can help - a little, atleast. I think about that week every day and every night, and maybe neither of us are doing so good, but we have each other. We didn't, back then."
She clears her throat, places her head carefully back to his shoulder and waits for him to say nothing. Instead, he exhales sharply and starts to speak.
YOU ARE READING
"𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞„
Fanfiction"Remember the first time you kissed me? It was on the cheek, outside of Hershel's quarantine zone. I remember feeling conflicted, because, I couldn't enjoy it. You were about to step into danger, and could've died. That's the first time I felt it, a...
