𝘐𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 // 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯

ʙᴀʙʏ.

Going to sleep is easy, staying asleep is hard. Even with Daryl next to me, snoring slightly, I wake up sweating and shaking like a leaf. I don't know if he hears me but he doesn't wake up either way.

The cell tower is dark, the morning barely coming in and I have to look around for a second before anything actually comes into view. He's laying next to me with his back to me, a pillow placed over his head.

 Am I that hard to look at? To be around? I let out a shaky sigh, rubbing hands over my tired face. Sitting up slowly, the rest of the room comes into view and I smile for a moment. We have our clothes folded on a chair in the corner. Though it's not much it's ours. It's something just for us.

Next to the chair, on the cement wall, there's a photo hung. It's a tiny polaroid Glenn had taken of Daryl and I just a few weeks ago. It's nothing much really, since we haven't talked for longer than two minutes in almost a month, it's simply us just looking at each other.

 I have my arm out, my green sweater dangling. A cloth is in my hands and Daryl is reaching out for it. We almost look happy, like a normal couple helping each other clean our car before going grocery shopping. Almost.

Even in the photo you can notice Daryl's slight frown, the worry in his eye and stress in his shoulders. And as he sleeps next to me, I notice the etch in his eyebrow, the permanent scowl.

Shaking my head, I lift myself off of the sleeping bag slowly.  As of right now, I've been trying to keep my mind off of the fact that I'm pregnant. It's easy when we're fighting off a whole herd of walkers or when I'm passing out. But mornings are rough. Especially when the nights are even harder.

The metal stairs are cold beneath my socks as I creep my way down them. Trying to do anything without waking Daryl up is impossible.

 By the time I make it down to the bottom and swing the door open, I'm out of breath, both hands on my knees.  Taking one final huff, I stretch my back, swinging my arms side to side. The mini farm Rick has started looks amazing this morning. The pigs are no longer with us but the horses are, they stand in their makeshift barns, their long hair swaying with every move they make.

Since I grew up in the city, I didn't experience much of a "farm life" during childhood. My horses were loud garbage trucks, my cows were the hamburgers I bought for two dollars and the pigs were the bacon my mom picked up at the store.

 So moments like this, nothing but silence and the sight of horses, makes this new world a little bit better than our last. As if right on time, the farmer himself struts out of the prison, taking long, loud strides towards the huge animals.

Rick looks just like the old Rick. His posture is still confident, walking around like he owns the place, which technically he does. It's almost as if he found the peace he didn't know he had been searching for. I think Lori sucked the good out of Rick, leaving him like a dry sponge. Rick didn't lose his shit because of the fact that Lori died, it's that he didn't know who he was without her. Would Daryl care if I died?

Shaking the lingering question to the back of my head, the anxiety bubbling in my throat is almost as powerful as Rick's strut. Even as he finally notices me, changing directions, his boots clink and his hips sway.

Rick's kind of hot.

"What are you laughing about?" Rick points to my face and my eyes go wide. I was laughing?

"What are you talking about?" My ears turn a red hot shade at the tips, my fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. Rick just shakes his head. 

"Wanna come feed the horses?"