▇▇▇ [ written for, @strivival ] : FOR A FEW SECONDS, NICK GRIMES COULDN'T HEAR ANYTHING. HE COULDN'T HEAR HIS HEART BEAT, HE COUDN'T HEAR CARL'S. they'd fallen out of sync, the two of them, with one bullet & a wash of anger that belonged to the perpetrator as the cause. for a few seconds, nick grimes just stood there— like a man possessed, staring at his cousin's face as if it were the last time he'd ever see it. after that? it was a mad scramble. they all moved at once, rick picking up carl, and nick & michonne fighting to follow after and clear the way. they no longer cared about being silent, about moving within the dead cloaked as one of their own. they cared only about the boy in his uncle's arms. and ever since then? they had not stopped. they were vigilant, and nick had never left his cousin's side; not even to wash the blood from his hair.
there is a heavy weight on his chest, only released by way of sigh ; arms folded on the edge of carl's bed, he hangs his head low over them, forehead pressed against the scars & freckles laid waste there. his mind is at war, racing and waiting for carl to wake, only thinking the worst as time stretches from minutes into hours. what will they do if he doesn't wake? what will they do if he does? the heavier the sigh, the heavier the weight he attempts to release. brother, the mind thinks, instead of cousin. wake up.