❛ now daryl, daryl was gray. he always seemed to be bitter and emotionless with no other dimensions to himself; his mere presence was the only one. gray was intriguing, almost acting like an acquired taste, but it had the potential to be beautiful t...
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thirty two.
I woke to the smell of something cooking, groggily lifting my head. I sat up, peering down at the kitchen. Daryl stood in front of the stove, cooking. I smirked as I rubbed my eyes. I quietly pulled on my pants, crawling over to the ladder. When my bare feet touched the hardwood floor, I snuck up behind Daryl. I snaked my arms around his waist. He jumped slightly and turned around to look behind him. He smiled ever so slightly then turned back to his project.
I just stood there in peace resting my head on his back, feeling his body rise and fall with every breath he took. I could hear one lonely bird chirping up in a tree far away. I sighed happily, pulling away and sitting down at the small table that sat near the corner of the room. Daryl turned around with the pan in his hand, setting it down on the table and handing me a fork. He smirked as he sat down across from me. Still tired, I leaned my head up against the wall lazily while I stabbed one of the chunks in the pan, blowing on it to cool it off before putting it in my mouth. I hummed in approval after a few moments of chewing.
"What is this," I asked out of curiosity.
"Squirrel," Daryl responded simply. My chewing slowed, my head coming up off the wall. I held the meat in my mouth, afraid to swallow it. Daryl looked like he was about to burst out laughing. I closed my eyes, barely finding the courage to swallow it before standing up from the table. "Where you goin'?" I turned on the sink, sticking my mouth underneath the faucet to wash it out and gulping down water in the process. He scoffed at me. "A little meat never hurt nobody," he smirked as I turned off the water and reached for the cupboards.
"I'm sorry, I just can't eat that." I took the can of peaches into my hand and slammed the door shut, returning to the table.
"Should've remembered," Daryl ate the squirrel cubes out of the pan with his fingers. "Ye're used to fancy food."
"It wasn't fancy at all." I looked up at him, my brow bunched up in slight anger. "I barely had rights back there." Daryl shrunk back in his seat a little at my remark. "Besides, I'd rather eat this anyway. There's plenty of it." I held out my hand towards him. He grabbed his knife out of his pocket and laid it down in my palm. I took it, stabbing it into the aluminum and cutting it open. I tossed the slimy top into the sink from my seat, turning back to stab a peach with the knife. I went to put one in front of Daryl when he blocked the spot.
"I don't eat that shit," he muttered. I stared at him in confusion.
"Why not," I scoffed, pulling it back towards me and taking a bite out of it. "A little fruit never hurt nobody," I mocked him with a smirk on my face. "It'd help make this meal the most well-rounded one you've had in months."
"What are ya, my mom," Daryl retorted. "I got all I need right here." He took another piece of squirrel out of the pan and tossed it into his mouth as he watched me put the rest of the peach in mine, the tip of his knife in between my teeth. "Careful," he mumbled. I rolled my eyes.
