DARYL DIXON
comfort at it's finest
Ever since Atlanta, Daryl and I had never spoken. We had never conversed about the weather, the weapons we used, or even gossiped about the group itself. He just seemed to isolate himself from the very beginning. Merle didn't help that, either, his loud mouth ended up getting Daryl into more trouble than him.
Though after Merle had died, or at least we knew he really did die at the hands of The Governor, Daryl had changed. Of course, he was still the quiet introvert he always seemed to be, but he had grown closer to us. As if we were some twisted family.
But it never felt like that with me.
Daryl never quiet seemed to talk to me. Never have I ever taken offence to his actions, though I can't exactly say I welcomed his behaviour either. It just felt abnormal, every time we spoke it felt completely and totally odd.
Today is one of these days; the days where he seems extremely quiet.
Outside the walls of Alexandria, Daryl, Rosita, Glenn, Michonne and I search for the man known as Dwight. The man whom also killed our doctor, Denise, who I classed as a dear friend by now. Her death seemed to hit Daryl the hardest. Even though he never told us, it was blatantly obvious to see just how much guilt he held and still holds on his shoulders.
"Daryl, I think we should slow–" Glenn begins, in hopes of calming a flustered Daryl down.
Though Daryl only spins around, greeting Glenn with a venomous glare. His body language stiffens, his nostrils flaring as he strides over to Glenn in long steps, pointing his finger at Glenn's face.
"That man is still out there," He begins, backing Glenn up to a tree. "He's probably lurking in these woods as we speak. The longer we wait, the more people will die." Daryl growls.
I step forward, in between Glenn and Daryl as I gently push Daryl backwards. He grunts as he lowers his arms, though his fists still remain balled up.
"The more we turn on each other, the easier it is for them. We're with you, Daryl, but you have to work with us." I advise him with my arms crossed.
Rosita and Michonne nod in approval, before Daryl marches off. Within a second, I lunge from my door to catch up to him. Michonne calls over to me though, informing me that they'll be heading back.
"Daryl," I call after him, though I don't get a response. "Please, Daryl!" I exclaim, clasping my hand around his forearm as I yank him to a stop.
He spins around like before, his face harder than stone. Through his anger, he pins me to a tree, his arms holding me by my upper torso. My choice of remaining calm and neutral seems to benefit me as I hold my hands up in defence.
"I'm on your side, Dixon, not that Delight's. Let me go, please." My voice remains just above a whisper, in holes to calm him down.
Daryl complies after a few moments of calculating the scene in front of him. He turns his back to me, his shoulders lifting up and down as he takes deep breathes to calm himself down.
"It's my fault," He suddenly cries out, whipping back around. "If I had just taken him out before, Denise would be alive!" He exclaims.
Without sparing a single second, I slip my arms around his waist, pulling his body into mine. For a moment, he stands stiffly, the feeling seeming to be alien to him. After a few moments, he breaks down, pulling me into his body tighter as he cries.
"It's my fault..." He sobs, his words pouring from his mouth in a shaky voice.
At this, I pull back, almost glaring up into his eyes. "Denise's death is not your fault." I snap, my eyes narrowing at him.
He seemed almost taken back at my outburst, his head now hanging in shame. I press my fingers just underneath is chin, lifting his head up. The pads of my fingers gently wipe away his tears, my eyes flickering up to his baby blue orbs that remain watery.
"I know we haven't been close, not anything like you and Rick are, but I care about you." I inform him, a small smile pulling at my lips.
My hands cup his cheeks, pulling his head down to my level. I place a chaste kiss to his forehead, allowing my lips to linger on his skin for a moment longer than needed.
"Thank you," He whispers in a small voice.
I let out a slight chuckle, raising my brows at his words slightly.
"Woah, a thank you from Daryl Dixon himself? Rick is going to be crazy jealous when I tell him this." I giggle, poking his toned chest as he actually lets out a little laugh.
Turning to him in surprise I allow a grin to spread over my face.
"And a laugh? This must be my lucky day!" I exclaim.