"𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞„

forty eight, somebody else

They would just stop off here and be back on their way, and so he decided to try and push this all away for now. He wouldn't have to see Jane, or Judith, or even Michonne and they did not have to know he was here. Just one harmless night. They all lived elsewhere, also. There would be no crossover, or atleast, not one that he would be expecting. It was just hard, when everything reminded him of them, or even his dad.

Still, he decided to brave it. Just for tonight.

"No one gon' see ya if you hide in the crowd," Daryl added, trying his hardest to pry the cap of a beer off.

"What's the point?" Carl replies, as he strings some twine around another arrow. They'd run out of ammo long ago.

"Reconnect with people, ion know. Maggies gone, so who you really gotta worry bout meetin?"

"No one, I guess."

He passed by the old infirmary - now new housing for residents - and shivered a little. He didn't like going in there, after everything. Jane didn't like it either, she never went in. Or maybe she had, since then. There was no way to know.

Sometimes he still forgot that he had let her go; he'd make a mental note to tell her something, or he'd clutch the strung penny round his neck and truly believe that when he opened his eyes she'd be there staring back at him. He could still tell anyone that'd care to know her exact eye colour, where the freckles sat on her face, the pressure of her kiss.

Three years of remembrance and he'd never been granted the solitude of forgetting.

"You gonna go in or what?" Some guy asks, reaching for the door handle.

"Oh-uhm, yeah. Thanks." He awkwardly fumbles over his words, but this man seems to know a little sympathy as he shares a smile with Carl.

"I haven't seen ya round here before, are you new?"

Carl hesitates. "You could say that. I'm just passing through."

"Well, you're welcome to hang with me and my guys." He says, pushing the double doors open. They're immediately engulfed in music and warmth, and the scene of so many people together hits him hard. He hadn't seen anything like this in years and years. Jane would've loved this. He thinks to himself, and then curses silently as he's trying to remind himself not to think about her: agony is all that follows her name now.

People in the middle of the floor dance with their arms around one another. Some kiss, some just embrace joyfully. Apparently, he's unknowingly glaring at them, as the guy beside him decides to bring attention to it.

"Hey, you alright? You know any of em?"

"No, no I don't. Just confused for a sec. Sorry."

"No need for sorrys, man, we're here to have fun! These are the guys, mike, John, and Sean."

"Carl." He replies, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Nice to meet you, kid. What are you, like 20?" Mikey asks. He has a long, greying beard, a little reminiscent of his fathers. The others look younger, but not by much.

"21." He replies, and they all raise their eyebrows.

"Damn, you're just a boy. How old were you when all this shit happened?" Sean asks.

Again, he didn't quite know what to say to this. Eleven was the age he was when the world had went through it. But he could think of so many other ages when 'shit happened'.

"Eleven."

They all huff in unison, trying to display their pity towards Carl in a sensible way, but they're all a bit drunk already. Suddenly, a mic sound screeches over the audience and Carl claps his hands up to cover his ears. Everyone else stays stationary, as they've been to enough of these things to expect it.