the sun was beginning to set over alexandria, casting a warm golden glow across the quiet streets. you sat on the porch steps, legs stretched out as you absentmindedly scrolled through your thoughts, enjoying the peaceful air. the sound of hesitant footsteps caught your attention, and you glanced up to see carl approaching. he looked… tense.

his sheriff’s hat sat slightly crooked on his head, and his fingers fidgeted with the brim as if debating whether to take it off or pull it lower to hide his face. his blue eye flicked to you and then away, his jaw clenching like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“hey,” he finally muttered, voice softer than usual. it almost surprised you. carl wasn’t normally this quiet around you.

you offered a small smile, tilting your head. “hey. you okay?”

he hesitated, his fingers tightening around the brim of his hat. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. i just… uh, i wanted to tell you something.”

he shifted awkwardly, rocking back on his heels. his free hand scrubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous habit you’d seen a few times before.

“okay, so, um…” he inhaled slowly, puffing out his chest like it might give him more confidence. “are you a campfire? because you’re hot and i… burn.”

he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, groaning under his breath.

“god, that sounded better in my head.”

your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then a laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

he let out a frustrated huff, pulling his hat lower over his face in a weak attempt to hide. “okay, look, i heard it somewhere and thought it—ugh, that was terrible.”

you leaned back on your hands, still chuckling. “you really practiced that one, didn’t you?”

his face turned an even deeper shade of red. “no! well—yes. but it didn’t sound that bad in my head, i swear.”

you tilted your head, watching him struggle. it was rare to see carl, the boy who fought walkers and carried a gun, reduced to a stammering, flustered mess over something as simple as a pickup line.