just survive somehow

@hilltopswidow asked: “And what about it?”

His boots thudded on the steps of the porch as he climbed up them, his dad held the door open for him and he scuttled in side, his dark hair falling into his face. He had been told time and time again that he should get a hair cut, but part of him like it-- it was different, it suited him. But, he was looking like Daryl more and more each day.

The water was amazing against his face and the water droplets fell onto the front of his button up shirt. He let out a sigh of relief as he stole a glance of himself in the mirror. It was the first time he had really looked--- he was still young, but his baby fat had disappeared, and it was the first time he noticed some of his dad’s sharp features. His sharp blue eyes stared back at him and he shifted a bit uncomfortably--

He shook away his thoughts and headed upstairs. He changed out of his sweaty clothes and settled on a dark gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans that hand a worn hole in one of the kneecaps.

A smell wafted up to his room and he took a moment to take in a deep inhale. It didn’t matter how old he was, Carl would always enjoy the smell of his mother’s cooking. And in an instant he traveled to another world in his mind. To a memory he held onto before the world fell. He had been chasing their dog, his  mom cooking away, the sounds of pots and pans scraping, his father is on the front porch enjoying a glass of ice tea-- and they’re happy.

‘Carl!’ His mother would always call--

And it seemed like every other week, someone had jumped ship to be at the Hilltop-- and Carl was itching to get there himself. He loved Michonne, and he loved Judith-- they were his family; but, he was ready to live his life, to expand his experiences. It was parallel to wanting to move out for college. He’d still see his family, but... he would be elsewhere. Somewhere he felt he better belonged. 

And without common technology-- the nights were lonely when he couldn’t talk to Sophia.

“But, I can try.” He chuckled. He could get lost in her eyes, spend all day counting and recounting her freckles-- and he would always, always melt in her embrace. When she pulled away slightly, he reached up to scratch at his chin-- he had actually been able to grow some stubble-- but, it was itchy on his still young face. 

“I understand wanting to take precautions, but-- we’re all friends, all on the same team-- I can’t believe there hasn’t been some kind of an agreement-- this isn’t..” What dad would have wanted-- but, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

angsty sentence starters. @thesheriffswife​ asked: ’ Why can’t you just tell me the truth? ’ (from lori)

Carl had been avoiding her-- and it wasn’t fair, he knew it wasn’t- but, he couldn’t face it; couldn’t admit to her that he was scared, and angry, and hurt. But, Lori is his mother, someone who had always been there for him-- someone who had always been in his corner--

Someone who would sing to him when he was scared.

And now she’s confronting him, and he’s cornered- out of excuses, out of lies. A low, steady breath leaves him and he mustered the courage to look at his mother- with the only eye he has left.

“I’ve... been having nightmares.” And rather than wanting to talk to Lori about it, he had been sneaking outside of the walls with Enid-- to get away from it all.

Sophia had saved any shred of childhood he had left-- and his adulthood was looking bright and promising. Because of her.

His lips had been captured by hers and his eye fell closed, his head tilted-- and he was surrounded by the scent of her; this was his favorite place to be- in her arms, the palms of his hands on the familiarity of the small of her back. “If anyone can talk some sense into her, it’s you. Maybe you can convince my mom to let me move to Hilltop while you’re at it.” He mused, it was a nice thought, but, it was never going to happen-- not until something seriously changed.