{Carl Grimes Imagines}

•Crying Out Loud• [C:G]

Warning: If you are triggered by anything in the description it is recommend you do not read this chapter.

Imagine
Word count: 1,116

You just knew.

The only thing you couldn't grasp was; why hadn't he told you. Three dry years have come and gone since the outbreak started. A prison was more of a safe-haven then your once childhood home.

Beside him, quietly–you sat. On the stairs of one out of the three guard towers at the prison. Both of you were directed to keep watch by Daryl earlier that afternoon. For either the usual roaming walkers or humans. As of now, the humans are more of a threat then rotting corps. The Governor was bound to turn up any day now, keeping every personal in the group; alert.

On the other hand, you could say Carl took on most of that job. While you unwilling slacked to let your mind wonder.

Then out of no where–your hands gently brush into one another. Both of you pull away, nervous and beet red.

Then he spoke. After two long hours he finally muttered a word.

In reality you didn't care what word he muttered out of the thousands there is to choose from or if he cursed and was directing it towards you. All you noticed was the pure fact that his lips were moving. After all, that was something that had always seem to mesmerize you.

He stopped.

You shook your head in embarrassment. "Wait, what?" He had to have been used to it, it was a daily thing that soon grew into a inside joke between the two of you.

Carl's lips curl into a smile as a light chuckle escaped his satin lips. "Its been difficult, trying to survive, is just a flat out bitch." Soon his lips dimmed as did the moon once the clouds dancer's passed in front  of the spotlight.

"I was gonna give up. Angry, upset–I guess. At the time I just wasn't willing to forgive anything. For taking my mom away from me."

You sharply inhale and turn to look in the opposite direction. "Carl–" You began, but was suddenly cut off when he gently grabbed your chin. Slowly turning it, so your eyes could meet.

"Let me talk." He calmly whispered.

You nod, okay. Understanding that what was about to be said held large importance to him.

"If it weren't for my dad, you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here—guess, I never really got to say thank you."

You go to reply, but choke on your own words, when you feel someone grab your hand. Your eyes dart downward to see your's and Carl's had locked. Your eyes follow up his arm, just to land on his own pair of mini oceans.

"There's something else I wanted to thank you for." He wasn't joking, this boy being all but funny. "I just haven't got a chance to tell you." This wasn't a joke to him.

Your nerves began to rattle. Maybe, just maybe today is the day.

He exhaled, "When dad brought you and the rest of them from Woodbury. I thought it was bad call. Thought we didn't need more people. Figured more meant more of a struggle."