I do not own The Walking Dead or the song Anthem of the Angels by Breaking Benjamin. I simply used the song to add to the feels.

I recommend listening to said song while reading this chapter, but that's just me :) (All you have to do is copy and paste the above song and singer into YouTube, top vid should suffice)

You're all gonna hate me :)

Enjoy!

It had been nearly a week.

Carl sucked in a breath, doubling over to cough repeatedly into a handkerchief.

Nearly a week since Patrick died because of some virus, taking out several others with him. Nearly a week since he was ripped from the world abruptly, never to be seen or heard again.

His death hadn't really hit Carl yet, not until he had stood over the fresh mound of dirt that served as Patrick's grave. He had placed Patrick's glasses on the wooden cross he had made him. Then it had hit him, like a ton of bricks.

Patrick was gone. Never again would Carl be able to hold him, kiss him, or confide in him. Patrick had brought a certain lightness and happiness to the Prison, with his polite and happy-go-lucky attitude. Now the light was gone. Carl could never again shuffle to his cell and brighten slightly at the sight of him curled under the covers.

Patrick was gone.

In an instant Carl had crumbled, falling to his knees. He shook, and he didn't even realize he was crying until he saw the tears slide down his face and onto the dirt below. And once he started he couldn't stop. He buried his face into his hands and cried, and cried, and cried. Until his throat was raw from his screams.

"I keep holding onto you
but I can't bring you back to life
sing the anthem of the angels
and say the last goodbye."

He laid back down on his bed in an effort to alleviate his labored breaths to no avail.

It had been two days since Carl started coughing, and was moved from the quarantine zone to the sick ward.

And it had been nearly a day since Daryl and some others went out to retrieve medicine for them all.

Carl's cell was tucked in the back of the first floor. Most of the time he preferred to be alone, left to his thoughts but sometimes he talked to the others, like Sasha, Lizzie and Glenn.

How he had contracted the sickness, he didn't know. Had it been simply from being with Patrick? Because of their shared moments? Touches? Kisses?

And how had Patrick gotten it? Because of their livestock? He didn't have the slightest clue.

He let out a shaky sigh, and instantly cursed himself for doing so, as it started another coughing fit.

It wasn't fair.

Patrick hadn't shown a single symptom of anything that morning, not when Carl had slipped out of bed and kissed his forehead before he headed out after his father. And suddenly he was gone, later that night.

Carl tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat but couldn't, his mouth dry like sandpaper. He reached over for the tea Hershel had been passing out and sipped.

Part of him wished Patrick was still in here with him.

But this was something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. He was glad, in a way, that Patrick seemed to slip away quickly, and wasn't suffering like the rest of them.

Part of him wished it was him who was with Patrick.

"Days go on forever
but I have not left your side
we can chase the dark together
if you go, then so will I."

"Hey Carl." He looked towards the bars of his cell, surprised to see his dad standing there, a bandana tied around his mouth as a precaution. He must have had fought tooth and nail to get in to see him, as Hershel was adamant on keeping healthy people as far away from them as possible. Other than himself.

"Dad." He choked out, clearing his throat. He sat up slowly as to not get dizzy and slumped against the wall.

"You shouldn't be in here."

His father looked pained, and he grasped at the bars as if he wanted nothing more than to tear them from their hinges just to get to him. He probably did.

Carl could only imagine what his own appearance looked like. Dirty, his hair and clothes sticking to his skin due to the constant sweating.

"I don't care."

"You should, for Judith." Rick sighed and looked down, distressed.

"How is she?"

"She's fine; Beth's been takin' good care of her." Carl nodded, relieved.

"Any word on Daryl and the others?" Carl asked, reaching for his tea once more. Rick seemed to frown for a minute, but wiped the look from his face quickly.

"They should be here in a few hours, tops." He assured him.

Though Carl had little hope, as several bad things could always happen. Always did happen. Their car could've broken down, Walkers could've gotten them. There was also the possibility that they would get back but the medicine wouldn't work, thus it all being for nothing as the people would still die.

"Dad." He muttered suddenly, tilting his head to stare at him. He needed to tell him something, before it was too late.

"Yeah?" Rick leaned forwards more, eyebrows nit in concern and concentration.

"When I die-"

"Don't."

His father stopped him before he got the words out, shaking his head fiercely.

"Don't."

Carl had little hope left. He could see Hershel and Sasha and sometimes Glenn roll out people on gurneys. It was just to kill them without the rest of them panicking. It was only a matter of time before the others and he would be taken out in the same fashion.

"There is nothing left of you
I can see it in your eyes
sing the anthem of the angels
and say the last goodbye."

He coughed into his hand, his throat burning and stinging in protest, and he wasn't nearly as alarmed as he should be at the sight of blood in his spit.

"Dad. Please let me finish." His dad let out a shaky sigh and nodded.

"If I die-" He amended. Rick still looked grief stricken at the mere thought but he didn't protest that time.

"Bury me next to Patrick."

GAH. All these feels! I'm so crap at writing emotional angsty scenes like this; I hope you didn't throw up because of its horrible-ness. Also it was probably really OOC. Sorry bout that.

Also you may have noticed I change the title, simply because I had just thought of the most random one when I first published this story and I kinda hated it. I think this one is better, in my opinion anyways.

Also, so sorry about any and all feels I triggered within you during this drabble, I will totally make it up to you next chapter, I promise!