the cool night air brushes against your skin as you sit on the roof of one of the houses in alexandria. the stars are scattered across the dark sky, their light faint but steady. carl sits beside you, his knees drawn up, one hand resting on the brim of his sheriff’s hat as he gazes out at the quiet streets below.

“used to think the stars would be brighter,” he says after a long silence, his voice low. “like, without all the city lights. but… they’re still just dots in the sky. kinda disappointing, right?”

you glance at him, noticing the way his fingers fidget with the edge of his hat. he doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, but his voice softens as he continues.

“sometimes, i miss when things were simple. when all i cared about was whether or not my dad would let me stay up late to read comic books. now it’s just…” he trails off, his jaw tightening. “now it’s just surviving. and sometimes i wonder if that’s even worth it.”

you don’t say anything at first, just let him speak. it’s rare for carl to open up like this, and you can tell it’s not easy for him.

“i mean, what’s the point, right?” he finally looks at you, his blue eye searching yours for something—reassurance, understanding, maybe just someone who gets it. “everything we build gets torn down. everyone we care about… gone.”

there’s a weight in his words, a heaviness that hangs in the air between you. but then his lips twitch into a faint, bittersweet smile. “but i guess… i guess we keep going because of people. because even when it’s hard, there’s still someone worth fighting for.”

his gaze lingers on you for a moment before he looks away, his hand dropping from his hat. “sorry,” he mutters. “didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

you shake your head, your voice soft but firm. “don’t apologize. you needed to say it.”

he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “thanks. for listening, i mean. not a lot of people do that anymore.”