carl’s voice was sharp, cutting through the humid air of alexandria’s dimly lit street. the fight had already started by the time she got there—ron’s fist swinging, carl dodging, their words just as vicious as their hits. she didn’t have to ask what it was about. enid. it was always enid.

ron lunged, carl blocked. dirt scuffed beneath their feet as they grappled, shoving, swinging, neither willing to back down. and she stood there, frozen, watching carl fight. watching him put up a fight.

for her.

except—no. not for her. never for her.

her stomach twisted, breath catching in her throat. she didn’t know what she expected, what she hoped for. maybe for carl to look at her, just once, like that. to defend her name with the same fire in his voice, the same anger in his fists.

but it wasn’t her name in his mouth. it wasn’t her he was fighting for.

ouch.

she swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe, to blink, to pretend it didn’t sting. but it did. god, it did.

carl shoved ron back, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. his knuckles were scraped, his face set in something fierce, determined. for enid. for someone else.

she looked away. maybe she should leave. maybe she should’ve never come?

ron scoffed, shaking his head before turning away, muttering something under his breath as he walked off.

carl didn’t care. not about him. not about enid. not about any of it—

until he saw her.

standing on the pavement from afar - just observing.

his stomach twisted.

she looked at him like she’d just been hit too. like the fight had knocked the air from her lungs, left her just as winded, just as raw.

except—this pain wasn’t on her skin. it was in her eyes.