୨୧ carl grimes x f!reader. in which carl is afraid to show himself in front of reader.
note. might’ve went a little overboard 😬 but hey, i had fun writing it. hope u love reading it <3 mentions of insecurities! & not fully proof-read!
When Carl lost his eye during the invasion at Alexandria, he had to adjust to everything. He felt ashamed, ugly whenever someone stared at him a little too long.
He grew out his hair, stopped looking in mirrors, and before he left his home, he always had a new bandage wrapped around, his hat hung low. All in attempt to hide his eye—his difference, from everyone.
Everyone except you.
You knew him before. The sweet boy who was innocent and unscarred. At first, he hid from you too. He thought you’d see the new him and run and hide. Think he was a monster.
He turned away from you at every corner. Avoided you even when you came to his room after he was able to go home after the accident. Carl was just released from medical, and the moment you heard, you rushed to his house.
Yet, he kept his back to you and refused to take a glance at you. No matter how bad he wanted to.
No matter how bad he wanted to look at you— into your colored eyes and melt into them like he always had before.
He wished he could forget the way he told you to leave, how you quietly begged for him to let you in. How you turned and ran out of his house.
Carl pushed you away, thinking it was for the better.
But you were stubborn and never took no for an answer.
One night, you knocked on the front door. You were over the hiding. You felt like you were losing your best friend.
Even in Alexandria where there were neighbors and people every turn you took, you felt alone.
Carl was the only one who understood you.
You stumbled back when Michonne answered the door. You hadn’t expected it. “Y/N?” Michonne raised her brows, lightly furrowed in concern and curiosity. Wondering what you were doing here, especially at this hour. It must’ve been at least 8PM.
You opened your mouth to speak before closing it to swallow deeply. “Uhm, is Carl here?” You muttered out.
A knowing smile rose to Michonne’s lips. She should’ve known.
She nods, “Yeah. He’s upstairs in his room.” She opens the door wider, “Come on in.”
A relieved smile takes over you once you step inside, wishing her a small thank you.
Quickly but as quietly as you could, you make your way up the stairs and go down the hall to meet his bedroom.
The door was closed but a small light shined underneath the door, signaling he was still awake.
You stood in front of his bedroom door, hesitant. Should you knock? Just walk in? Shout out it’s you? But what if he just bids you off. . again.
Finally, after standing there like a stuck idiot, you push away the thoughts, raise your fist and knock. You don’t speak yet, just listen.
Then, you hear his voice, “What?” Sounded like a teenager, annoyed by his parent checking in on him. It almost makes you laugh.
You raise your fist to knock again, your voice coming out small a second later, “It’s me. . . Y/N.”
As if he couldn’t tell instantly from the moment you spoke. The same voice he’s missed since the last time you tried to talk to him.
It goes quiet. More quiet, if that was possible.
“Go away, Y/N.” He displayed his voice angry but inside the room, it sent his heart two steps back at the thought of you being on the other side of the door.
His words hurt you, making your chest ache. But you couldn’t leave now.
You wouldn’t.
“You can’t keep shutting me out, Carl.” You said, more confident than before. “Can I come in?”
A quick, “No!”
You let out a soft groan in frustration. You reached for the door handle, “I’m coming in!” As you open the door, you hear shuffling near the bed. You make your way into the familiar bedroom.
Your eyes scanned the posters on the wall, the stack of comics on the floor and the sight of it all made your heart skip a beat. Because the room was him.
All the things he loved and made him himself.
Then, your eyes led to his bed. There he was.
Like before— he sat at the edge of the bed, back towards you, shutting you out. It made you sigh.
He didn’t move. Stared down in his lap, sitting on the bed. His hat was off, discarded to the other side of the room.
His hair was brushed, and you could see the white bandage peeking out between his hair that wrapped around his head.
“You have to face me eventually.” You whispered, still stood near the entrance of his room.
No response.
You sucked in an inhale and stepped forward, “Please, look at me.” You pleaded, your voice wavering.
It killed him. The sound of your voice. As if your heart was breaking like his.
You dared to step closer, sitting on the opposite side of the mattress. He felt the dip and even though you weren’t touching him, you being so close nearly sent him crazy.
You were so close. Yet, he was too afraid to turn and see you, touch you, or even speak.
“Carl. . .” You whispered. “I can’t stand this. Being apart. It’s been weeks, Carl. Look at me, please.” It’s been weeks since the breech at Alexandria, since Ron shot him, since you cried on his bed side when he was unconscious.
It felt like longer since he started to shut you out. Since the day Rick invited you over to cheer up his spirits and Carl ignored you and told you to leave.
You wanted your best friend back.
You wanted him back.
“You’ll think I’m ugly.” His voice came out cracked, raw. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice— a sound you’ve missed even if it was different.
You shake your head, forgetting he can’t see you, “I won’t.” You didn’t hesitate, “You were always handsome to me.”
If it was any other time, he would’ve blushed. Instead, he let out a scoff. He didn’t think anything about him was handsome. Not anymore.
Your gaze drifted in your lap, your hand sliding from the mattress to your lap. An idea struck your mind.
A soft smile rose to your lips before you gripped the white sheet that scrunched up at the foot of the bed. In one swift movement, you threw it both of your heads.
Carl’s eye widened, off guard by your movements. “It’s okay. Don’t you remember when we used to do this?”
As kids, back at the first camp in Atlanta, you were all alone and his mother, Lori, took you in. You slept in their tent, shared rations, and were treated as if one of her own.
This also meant endless sleepovers for you and your new friend, Carl Grimes.
At night, while his mother slept, you’d climb onto Carl’s clot and he’d pull the blanket over your heads, hold the bright flashlight between you and tell scary stories back and forth.
And when you got too scared, he’d hold your hand and remind you that it wasn’t real, that he’d protect you. No matter what.
A soft smile rises to Carl’s lips as he recalled the memory.
“I’ll close my eyes.” You said, “Just look at me.”
“Want to feel your gaze on me again.”
Before he could agree, you fluttered your eyes closed. At first, you didn’t hear anything. Not a movement or a sound from him.
But you waited patiently for him.
Then, he shifted under the sheet and faced you. You felt it. His familiar gaze.
His eye softened upon seeing your face. Eyes closed, lips in a slight frown, strands of hair brushing your long eyelashes.
He couldn’t help but gently push back your hair, his thumb brushing against your skin. Long enough to make your skin shiver. Long enough to make your lips curve up a little.
“You’re here.” You whispered.
He smiled soft and vulnerable, “Yeah.” He breathed out.
Minutes passed under the sheet, not a lot of words between each other but the soft touches. He shifted closer, your knees brushing, and his hand inches away from yours.
The only sounds that was heard was the steady breathing from the two of you.
“I want you to see me.” He whispered, breaking the silence. Your breath hitched but you didn’t open your eyes yet.
You nodded slowly.
“Keep your eyes closed.” He instructed quietly. You did.
Carl slowly unwrapped the bandage around his head. You could hear his breathing becoming more shaky as he did.
He was afraid. He didn’t want to lose you but if he didn’t show you, he was afraid he’d lose you anyway.
Once he removed the bandage, the wrapping landed in his lap as he exposed his empty eye socket to your closed eyes.
Carl let out another shaky exhale before he spoke, “Okay. Open your eyes.”
You took a second before your eyes fluttered open. Firstly, your eyes blurred, blinking trying to get used to the lighting before it zoned onto him. Your best friend. The warm light shined through the sheet, creating a glow around him.
He watched as your eyes scanned over his face, his features, his new feature. Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Then, he watched a smile take over your mouth.
It confused him at first.
Then he realized, you weren’t making fun of him. You didn’t think he was ugly or monstrous.
You were looking at him.
Not his missing eye— the real him.
You held a sort of adoration as you looked at him. Like you stumbled across a beautiful painting in a museum and couldn’t tear your eyes away.
As he realized that, his own tears grew in his eye.
Slowly, your hand lifted and your thumb caressed his cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.” A soft laugh bubbled out between his cries.
You thought he was beautiful. Even now you did. You never treated him differently— not something to be fixed or taken care of. If anything, you saw more. More than he ever did about himself.
The next thing you knew, you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing his when you glanced up at him asking silently for permission. He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing.
You took the incitative, leaned in fully and pressed your lips against his.
It was innocent, soft and spoke all the words you couldn’t. Breaking all barriers past friendship, but neither of you cared. Because right now, in this moment, it was just you and him, under the blanket and in your own world.
