It wasn’t often that you and Carl got to hang out alone like regular teenagers. There was no such thing as “normal” anymore—not in a world that had ended and kept on spinning anyway. Between endless supply runs, walker patrols, and the fragile tensions within the camp, any fleeting moment of peace felt like stolen treasure. Still, you both carved out little pockets of freedom when you could. And tonight, against all odds, you managed to sneak away again.

Slipping past the guards wasn’t easy. The new rotation had brought in more eyes, stricter watch points, and an overall uneasiness that blanketed the community like a damp cloth. But you and Carl had figured it out. You always did. The shadows between the training yard and the outer fence gave just enough cover. One distracting toss of a rock in the opposite direction—and then a sprint to the tree line. It worked like a charm.

The clearing you found wasn’t far, but it felt like another world. The camp’s noise faded into nothing, replaced by the soft orchestra of chirping crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the whispering rustle of leaves overhead. The wind picked up gently, tugging at your clothes and hair, as if urging you both to lie down and forget the world behind.

You lay side by side in the cool grass, staring up at the sky scattered with stars. For once, the heavens weren’t shrouded by storm clouds or smoke. They glittered like they had in the old world, quiet and beautiful and so far away it made your chest ache.

“This doesn’t even feel real,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, like speaking too loud might break the spell.

Carl chuckled under his breath. “I know. It's like… if I forget for a second, I can pretend we’re just two normal kids. Out past curfew. Doing dumb stuff.”

“You say that like this isn’t genius,” you replied with a grin, turning your head slightly to look at him.

He was already looking at you, his expression soft, shadows from the moonlight casting across his face. The brim of his sheriff’s hat tilted just enough that you could see the strands of hair falling across his forehead. His eyes—the same piercing blue ones that had seen too much—held something gentler tonight. Something safer.

A sudden streak of light tore across the sky, bright and swift.

“A shooting star,” you breathed out, eyes wide. The moment passed quickly, but it had been real.

There was a quiet pause between you as both of you stared at the sky where it had vanished.

“…What’d you wish for?” Carl asked softly, voice so low it felt like it melted into the breeze. He turned his head to look at you, and even in the dim light, you could see how he watched you like you were the star that had just flown by.

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to say something stupid and easy—like wishing for more snacks or music or a proper mattress. But the other part, the part of you that had been surviving just like him, wanted to say something real.

“I wished things didn’t have to be so hard all the time,” you admitted, your voice just above a whisper. “I wished we didn’t have to fight so hard just to have a night like this.”

Carl nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

He was quiet for a beat, eyes returning to the stars above. “I wished you wouldn’t get hurt.”

The words hit you like a rock to the chest. Not because they were dramatic, or some grand confession, but because they were so simple. So honest. Carl didn’t look at you when he said it—his gaze stayed on the stars, but you knew he meant every word.

“I know it’s stupid,” he added quickly. “Wishing doesn’t do anything anymore. It’s just… I don’t know. You matter to me.”

“It’s not stupid,” you said. “And you matter to me too, Carl.”

Silence followed again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with things you didn’t need to say, because in this quiet clearing, you could just be. No responsibilities. No danger—at least for now. Just two teenagers lying in the grass, trying to remember what life was like when the world wasn’t ending.