One Last Whisper [c.g]

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

His body leant against the frame of the cell door, Carl Grimes stood tall, hunching over Ron.
Ron glanced upwards at the boy who he'd befriended since the apocalypse. Though one of the most morbid things he had figured from their relationship was that they had bonded over the impact of mourning. They were both linked with the same pain and heart ache. Except no matter the reason the two had come together, Ron was grateful. Without Carl, he wasn't exactly sure what he would've done. It hurt him to think about what he would have done- I mean, the single bullet in his gun may have spoken for itself.

Suicidal thoughts rung over all of the morbidly good thoughts. Meaning everyday, Ron had to stop thinking about death, he had to stop thinking about ending it all because he knew that with just enough convincing time- he'd be by the 'suicide tree' suiciding himself. Ron knew that he could always talk to Carl if needed support but to be honest, the kid had demons himself.

Ron would never forget the faithful day that crumbled his life. Well, their were two days. The first day that turned his so called normal life into a tornado would have been the day the apocalypse started. It was like an airborne virus really- spreading faster and faster over the globe. A young man waking up to be someone he wasn't. The young man felt the desire to devour his wife and soon - his wife woke up feeling the same. So thats how it worked, a bite and you were like those nuts that surrounded every inch of earth. A monster.

The second day that ruined Ron's life was when the girl he had grown so fondly of, the one that made him forget his loss- had passed away. Of course, that was a small while ago. Except Ron could never stop thinking about her. Sissy was her name, and she died in bravery.

The details on how she died wasn't ever clear. All that he had been told was this:
when she was given the choice to save herself or save her best friend, she saved her friend.

That was all Ron needed to forgive her death. But forgiving was very very different from accepting.

And no- Ron had not accepted it.

Everyday that passed, felt like years and every minute, well it felt like hours. Ron promised himself he'd get on with his life, that he'd grow up. Except when getting on with his life meant meeting by the same tree everyday, feeding and nurturing the same weeds everyday, Ron had plenty of time to think. Maybe, just maybe, one of the things about silence, was that the demons pursued to make life never have a silent moment. Every second Ron spent laughing with his friend Carl, was a second he had to pay for, in anxiety and pain.

And Y/n, his best friend in the apocalypse, he had lost her too. During an attack she had gotten shot. Even though Carl had lived and she hadn't, every day Carl lived in remorse. Begging that the world could have taken him instead. Because a life without her wasn't a life worth living.

Sometimes Ron wonders if Carl thought that Y/n had been selfish to take the bullet instead of him. If Carl had died that day, she would have lived. Except because she died that day, he had lived. Left to live a life of ongoing pain. Every time someone mentioned her name, all Carl could do was wince. He hoped he could maybe get over her but he very soon came to reality. This was his breaking point. Carl Grime's weak tolerance system had broken. Here Carl Grimes had given the world his all, and all that he had received was death.

The saddest thing about it, was that all the good memories seemed to do, was remind him of the bad. Ron liked to think about Sissy, the first day he met her, the first day he kissed her which to add, was an accident he had wished his life to take place- and he even sometimes thought about their fights. Pathetic little things like who got the last spoonful of that disgusting condensed milk.
"No you have it, because if you don't and I do, I'll spend the rest of the night worrying about you and how that spoonful could have made you a little square inch less hungrier"

Suicidal was he? That's what Carl always thought. Carl had promised himself that Ron was all he had of Y/n. He was uncovered memories of Y/n that Carl had never lived. He nurtured every joy that Ron had been able to talk about. Except in the prison you could. Best friends was what they were. Bound by the same pain, by the same tears.

In exchange for their humanity, they traded each others shoulders.

If you carry on,
I'll give you a shoulder to lean on.