There was so much anger, so much guilt. He knew he couldn't drink it away and he sure as hell couldn't sleep it off either. He just constantly paced, flashbacks invading his mind all at once.
Daryl's fear
The hatchet
The blood
The crunch...and the scream. That god awful scream.
You caused all that.
Paul flipped the table.
His life won't be the same
The chairs were next, flying across the room and hitting the walls.
He took a few breaths and stood there, stairing off into space.
He looked down at his hands. He forgot he was covered in blood the whole time. Paul let out a shuddered breath and slowly made his way to the bathroom. He pushed open the bearly closed door and walked towards the sink. Leaning on it with his blood stained hands, he lifted his head up to see his fucked up reflection stairing back numbly. His hair was slightly frizzy and out of place on one side, his eyes were red from the constant silent crying. Small strands of hair were stuck to one side of his cheek from the tears...and spots of blood that managed to flick in his direction from the hatchet flying back and coming down, then flying back once again.
Bile roze up in his throte, his head swung down as he vomited into the sink, body trembling as everything heaved out of his system, which wasn't much at all. Paul didn't eat anything today besides some breakfast late that morning. It was funny, one minute the two men were in good spirits, besides Gregory being an ass, the next, they were talking on their long drive, Daryl comfoting him about the previous situation then all of a sudden... everything took a turn so huge that none of the good things from today mattered. Not one bit.
Paul desperately tried to numb those thoughts, tried to convince himself that he should be greatful they're both still alive but he wasn't. He imagined Daryl would rather be dead than to be helpless with no leg, he imagined Daryl would no longer want to look at Paul, let alone talk to him again. He couldn't blame him though. He'd be extremely surprised if their friendship remained the same. That was hard to imagine.
He let out a small pained wimper and turned on the cold tap, he roughly rubbed his hands as red water swirled into the drain, he then rubbed up his arms panickly as he tried to wash the horrid reminder off his skin. He swore if he had sandpaper, he'd use it till he bled. He then cupped his now clean hands under the running water, splashing it onto his face rubbing it just as desperately. Paul didn't bother fixing his hair, he just went to the towel rack to dry himself off then looked to change into a clean shirt. His old one ended up in the trash. He didn't give a shit if it was his favorite.
--------------------
Two hours passed and Paul could no longer stand being alone with his own thoughts. He needed company but a part of him was scared of it. He didn't think he'd be comfortable sitting in the same room as Tara, Enid or Aaron and Eric. He certainly couldn't stand the thought of going to his best friend, all it took was the memory of Maggie's glares and the thought of seeing that same look again which made him choose to stay clear. The rest seemed to be sided with him but that didn't exactly mean they wanted him around right now, right? They were probably trying to calm down in their own ways. The struggle was, he couldn't stay here either. The eery silence in the trailer was too much. He was supposed to be hearing Daryl's voice right now, or at least his quiet snores from the bedroom.
Fuck it.
If he couldn't be with friends right now or by himself, then he was gonna go to DR. Carson. He figured he now had enough mental strength to be in there, especially now that he'd probably be the only one by this time of night. Hopefully.
He left his trailer feeling the cold crisp air, it was dark and quiet. He jogged to Carson's trailer whilst looking at his surroundings. No one was in sight. After he walked up the steps, he stopped at the door, his fist hesitantly lifted up to it, contemplating on whether this was a wise idea. His chest ached with anxiety once again. Before he could make a second decision, the door creeked open suddenly, startling the small man. He stepped back quickly and to his surprise, Dwight stood in the doorway. Dwight was the first to react. He greeted with a nod stepped to the side without a word, allowing Paul to come in. Paul figured the doctor did all he could and was now asleep in the other room.
"He's been given antibiotics and fluids." Dwight said while pointing to the IV as the other man sat besides the bed where the hunter lay, he was breathing normally but looked lifeless. "It should keep him going for now. There's also strong pain killers that have been prepared for when he wakes." Paul barely nodded in response and glanced over to the bedside table, where a small bottle and full syringe were placed.
"If he wakes." He replied quietly, turning his attention back on the unconscious man. Dwight sucked in a sharp breath.
"Even if he doesn't, at least he was brought back here." Paul perked his head up and glared over at the saviour. Dwight sighed and stepped closer. "Look, i know I'm the last person you'd want to be having this conversation with, but there's-"
"No." Paul interrupted. "I... I'm actually relieved it's you here." He confessed, eyes on Daryl again. "I just need you to stop talking." The older man nodded and took a step back.
Paul wanted to touch the hunter, he wanted to feel warmth, to confirm any sign of life besides his breathing. The man was still pale which disturbed him but not like he remembered. He no longer looked feverish at least. Just... drained.
"I'm sorry Daryl." He whispered. "So fucking sorry." Paul sounded helpless and he found it pathetic that he said what he said. No amount of sorrys could make Paul feel deserving of forgiveness.
A moment later, Dwight cleared his throat. Paul noticed but didn't turn his head.
"It is not my place to tell you this but i will anyway." The words brought Paul's attention, turning towards the rugged man with concern in his eyes and brows furrowed, waiting to hear more. "He seizured pretty bad not long after you left.." Paul tensed. Eyes still frozen anxiously on the saviour. "That's usually a bad sign especially if it continues, so Paul, don't get your hopes up man." The young man's breath shuddered. He knew Dwight was right. Just because Daryl was in a safe place and treated with medical supplies, Paul shouldn't let that lift his spirits. He needed to consider the other possibility.
"I'm choosing to expect the worst, Jesus, you should too." Dwight finished. Paul nodded, clenching his jaw and rubbing his eyes with trembling hands, refusing to allow tears to fall. He exhaled from his nose and looked to the floor. After a while, he spoke up.
"Why?"
"Why what?" Dwight responded a long moment later.
"Why were you at the pharmacy?"
"I just was. Had to find medical supplies for the sanctuary since ya'll had us split everything in fours."
"Bit of a coincidence don't you think? we had the same idea to go so far, to arrive at the exact location at almost the same time." Dwight smirked and shook his head.
"Daryl mentioned it just over a week ago. The only coincidence was the timing." Paul nodded. "I get why youd ask. Could've been following you."
"Even if you were, I'm thankful." Paul said. "Even though things won't be the same. Da-"
"-I'll get crutches. They'll do untill someone finds a prosthetic leg. At least he wouldn't be too disabled"
"Thought we were assuming the worst..." paul said quietly to himself. Dwight heard and shrugged in response.
"Its not wrong to make plans, you know, just in case." He said. "Even if we have our doubts."
There was a long pause.
"Why would you help Daryl anyway? He usually hopes to see your corpse one day."
Dwight silently chuckled, even though there wasn't much humor behind it.
"After all the bullshit, i owe him. Big time. Not just for robbing him or shooting denise, but in that cell... i tortured the guy mentally every day, desperately trying to side him with Negan. It was either that or he'd be dead. I guess he'd rather rot than to betray his group. That takes strength."
"I know. I heard all about it and yeah, he's strong. he'd loose all his limbs if that meant keeping the group safe. His family."
--------------------
An hour passed and Paul was feeling tired. He had his hand placed on Daryl's, the warmth from his skin calming the scout.
Dwight cleared his throat and grabbed his stuff.
"You seem like you're fine watching over him, i should rest since I have to return home soon."
"You...you can rest in my trailer." Paul hesitantly offered. "The doors open, you'll know which one."
The saviour nodded a 'thank you' and left. Once the door shut, Paul gripped the hunter's hand tighter, scooting closer. He rested his forehead on the man's shoulder and sobbed quietly, tears already spilling onto the thin sheet.
Soon enough, he drifted off to sleep. Arms tucked under his head on the side of the bed, right next to the man he secretly loved. He wasn't leaving his side anytime soon.
-----------------------
Stay tuned ya'll, your hearts will not stay broken, i promise
Edit: thank you ghost reader for informing me this chapter is shite. That's the point. Not all fics are happy all the way through or accurate to the show/characters .
Ps. I give a big thanks to all my loyal readers who leave votes etc. and have patience. I promise you the next chapter will be lovely 😃