❝tragic backstories and using the word "dude" romantically, that pretty much summed up carl grimes and elle coleman❞
[carl grimes x oc]
[seasons 3-11]
[not completed]
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❖
Not a single person missed the bright smiles and linked hands of Elle and Carl when they met back up with the group. Elle held a walkman in her other hand while Carl held a small music box. Nobody noticed though, they were too busy sending smirks to the two teenagers.
At least there was something they could all smile about.
But those smiles were soon gone when Rick told them they had to continue walking. It was becoming redundant. Walk to find food and water, find no food and water, repeat.
It was hard enough on Elle's body and mind, she couldn't imagine having to complete the journey on stubby seven-year-old legs. That was why she had offered her back to carry Tommy while he took extra time to recover.
When Abraham approached her side she didn't even notice. She was too focused on her legs and lungs which were both about to give out.
"Want me to take over?" the older redhead asked, not oblivious to the pained look on Elle's face.
"Nope. I'm good," she stubbornly held out. The look on her face changed from exhausted to determined, but they both knew it was a facade.
Abraham shook his head before stepping in front of Elle so she had no choice but to stop. She should've known he'd be just as stubborn. All gingers were.
"Give me the boy, Little Red," Abraham said.
There was no choice here. Abraham would not let Elle continue with Tommy weighing her down. That thought process didn't halt her though. She tried as many times as there were stars in the sky to get around him. They had taken so long that the entire group had passed them and there was as much space between them and the group as there was between them and the walkers approaching their tail end.
"Hey!" Rosita yelled back to them, walking backward so she could look their way. "Move your asses unless you want to be walker food!"
"You heard the woman," Abraham looked down at Elle, with no evident concern for the approaching walkers, only using Rosita's words to help his case.
Elle on the other hand was concerned by the walkers. Not for her sake, but for Tommy's. That was why she waved the white flag.
"Be careful," she instructed as she transferred a sleeping Tommy onto Abraham's back. "And don't talk loud, he needs to sleep."
"You're twelve," Abraham ignored all of her directions. "You need to at least be thirty before you think about making pancakes."
"I'm fourteen," she corrected as they started moving again. "And when did we start talking about pancakes?"
"He means having sex," Rosita interpreted, having slowed her pace so she could fall in step with them. "With the outcome of a baby, therefore becoming a mom, which is how you're acting right now. He makes everything confusing, I know."
