𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 || ᵈᵃʳʸˡ ᵈⁱˣᵒⁿ

viii

|[part eight]|
-҉

WHEN DARYL MADE A VOW to stay by your side until your arm fully mended, the prognosis hinted at three months of convalescence. Yet, as three months waned into nine, Daryl's presence became a constant in your life, his departure postponed time and again. Each instance you broached the subject, querying why he lingered when you felt yourself to be healed, he'd insist, with a stubborn shake of his head, that leaving you to solitude while you were "not fully healed" didn't sit right with him. Despite your protests to the contrary, he was adamant, reassuring you that his absence wouldn't spell disaster for his community—they could manage without him for "a couple more weeks." Those weeks swiftly doubled, and with each passing day, the bond between you deepened, the thought of parting growing ever more distant for both of you.

Your cohabitation was surprisingly harmonious, punctuated by disagreements that were numerous yet fleeting, their resolutions found in small acts of kindness and understanding. He would return from his excursions with canned pudding or an assortment of candies, knowing well your penchant for sweets. In turn, you would replace the canned peaches he abhorred with his preferred stew or attend to his knives, ensuring they were always in prime condition.

An unexpected delight came one morning, as the dawn cast a serene glow over the town, the tranquility of the scene a stark contrast to the chaos that once pervaded your days. For the first time in what felt like eternity, the air was filled with the melodies of birdsong rather than the ominous sounds of the undead. Winter had relinquished its grip swiftly, making way for the burgeoning warmth of summer—a change you welcomed with open arms. The colder months had seen you both sequestered in a house, huddled amidst a trove of supplies pilfered from a funeral home—a secret Daryl was yet to discover. Those days were spent in the warmth of each other's company, learning card games, engaging in spirited rounds of Scrabble and Uno, and indulging in endless conversations.

The man who had first appeared to you as nothing more than a taciturn survivor had slowly unveiled himself to be a person of unexpected warmth and humor. He had become a steadfast guardian against the cold, not just of the winter past but of the isolation and despair that had once threatened to engulf you. In the last two months, he had taken it upon himself to prepare almost every meal, his actions speaking volumes of the silent, profound bond that had formed between you. This unexpected life with Daryl, born of circumstance and nurtured through shared experiences, had blossomed into a sanctuary of peace and companionship, a far cry from the solitude and survival that once defined your existence.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the remnants of dawn's chill as you made your way back from an early supply run. Opting to venture out alone had given you a rare sense of solitude in the otherwise constant company of survival. Your backpack was light, filled with the day's modest findings, but it was the additional, carefully chosen gift for Daryl that added a metaphorical weight to your steps—a weight born of anticipation and a playful competitiveness that had blossomed between the two of you.

As you neared the agreed-upon rendezvous point, a figure caught your eye, busily engaging with the trunk of a car. It was Daryl, his focus entirely consumed by the task at hand, oblivious to your approach. A surge of excitement washed over you, the thrill of the impending surprise causing your heart to quicken. The object of your impending prank felt suddenly heavier, a tangible representation of the joy you found in these small, shared moments amidst the apocalypse.

With stealth honed by necessity, you lightened your footsteps, moving with a predator's grace as you closed the distance between you and him. The rusted trash can you ducked behind offered a momentary shield, concealing your presence just meters away from your unsuspecting target. Patience, a skill equally vital for both hunting and moments like this, kept you in place until Daryl's attention was once again consumed by his task.