the room feels colder than it should. carl lies on his bed, the night pressing down heavily on alexandria. his shirt clings to his skin, damp from tossing and turning, but he doesn’t move to fix it. the walkie-talkie sits on his nightstand, its silence more deafening than any static ever could be.

you left weeks ago, packing your things and heading to hilltop without so much as a proper goodbye. you had argued—about what, carl can’t even remember anymore. all he knows is the emptiness your absence left behind. he tried to reach you, calling into the walkie every night, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. but you never answered.

now, the walkie sits untouched. he doesn’t bother anymore, convinced that whatever you had is gone.

tonight feels no different. carl stares at the ceiling, his thoughts circling back to you, as they always do. but then, out of nowhere, the walkie crackles to life.

he jolts upright, his heart pounding as the static clears, replaced by your voice.

“i think about you every day,” you say softly, your voice uncertain but steady. “i hope and i wish that you’re doing okay.”

carl’s breath hitches. he grabs the walkie but doesn’t press the button, afraid to interrupt, afraid this moment isn’t real.

“i want us to go back to the old days. because… i miss you.”

his fingers tighten around the device, his thumb trembling over the button. for a moment, he can’t find the words. the weight of everything he’s wanted to say feels impossible to carry.

“i miss you too,” he finally whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… come back.”

he sits there, waiting for your reply, his heart caught between hope and fear. the static hums softly in his hand, the only sound in the stillness of the night.