Ruin Me So You Can Save Yourself (Daryl Dixon X Male OC)

5. Warm Night, Cold Morning

Samuel Grimes

I wake up and I'm cold because Daryl isn't there to keep the temperature up. I look around not seeing Daryl anywhere close so I get out of the car looking around again, maybe he went off to take a piss. Or maybe he sobered up and left.

"You can't run from yourself forever." I say but I know he won't hear me. I sigh getting back into the car. I check the time. "Shit."

I'm late to work, again, twice in past week, not good, not good at all. I drive straight to work running into the cafe, I see Rad raise his eyes at me and then raise one eyebrow silently looking me up and down. He smirked. I ignore him and walk to join him behind the counter.

"Someone had fun last night? You know, I can't even blame you for being late." Rad said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What? No. I don't know whatcha on 'bout." I shake my head dismissively

"Tell me what, pretty boy, did you even look in the mirror this morning?" Rad teased, there was only few customers ans they were already in their tables so he was pretty much free.

I stop for a moment. Do I look bad? I usually make my hair and put on something nice, especially when I work on weekends, I didn't do that today, because I was in rush and I forgot, and no I did not look in the mirror. I walk to the stuff bathroom and stare in the mirror. I'm a mess. My clothes are chewed up and my hair looks like a bird build a nest in it.

"And you're still hard." Rad said, my head snaps towards him standing in the doorway looking all smug. I look down at the bludge in my pants and cover it with my hand.

"Shut up." I grumble and turn to the mirror again. "And stop looking at my junk. Damn pervert." Yeah, Daryl sleeping on top of me definitely didn't help with my morning wood. I was in so much rush I didn't even notice it, how can I not notice that I'm hard? That's nearly damn impossible. But my head is a mess recently.

"I'm pervert? I'm not the one showing up to work after hot night, and still hard too." Rad said smirking still. "Who is he? Or she. I don't judge." I couldn't help but laugh at guy's inversed allyness and shake my head.

"Just leave it." Can't tell Rad that I'm with a guy nearly twice my age who was on ecstasy, wanting to cuddle and play with my hair but. Not sure he'd even believe me if I did.

"Oh, come on. I'm curious. Are they hot?"

"He's okay." I mumble. Not true, he's absolutely gorgeous in all the wrong ways possible. I'm ready and more then willing to kiss every inch of his stupid, dirty, tanned, scarred skin. I shake the thought off and turn on water wetting my hand and running it through my hair in an attempt to theme it.

"Give me more than that, man. My life is boring and lonely lately, I need some drama." Rad said grinning as he walked over leaning against the sink beside me. His life is boring? He shows up with new hickey's almost every week, dozens of customers flirt with him, he's an artist living in his own apartment and doing whatever he wants with his life, his parents love him, he's product of love. I'm just doing whatever my parents want me to do because I need to accomplish stuff for them to look my way, I hooked up with someone just enough times to count on my fingers and last more or less proper relationship I was in was when I was in summer camp back when I was in high school. And who's life is boring here.

"Shouldn't you be serving customers?" I ask trying to get him off my back.

"Whatever." Rad gives up putting his hands up in the air. "Though, I could help you take care of that." Rad pointed at my crotch and I cover it with my hand again.

"No. Get out." I say pointing at the door as my cheeks flush with blush immediately as i cover my crotch with my hands. Rad raised his arms up again and turned on his heels, turning off and walking away. I sigh. It's going to be a long day.

Soon enough this stuff became a habit. Daryl called more often, high or drunk, always one of the two or both. I'd go, pick him up and bring him home or come over when his brother was out, or we'd sleep in my car. He really liked my hair, especially when he's on ecstasy, he loved playing with it, touching me, just caressing my body like it was an art piece. When he was on weed he was relaxed and more open, joking around and smiling more than usual, and when he was on Oxy or Benzos he just laid with me, rested his head on my lap or just rolled up in a ball and stared somewhere blankly. It was scary sometimes, his heart beating slowed down and his gaze was blank, like a corpse, almost. I always kept my hand on his chest making sure he'd still breathing. On Xanax he was total opposite, his breathing quick as well as his heart rate, he got panic attacks, woke up in the middle of night unaware of his surroundings, and gets nightmares. Most drugs I could understand, they made him feel good, but Xanax I couldn't understand, it seems all bad.

I treated his wounds after fights with his dad and brother or just bar fights. And holy cow that man fought a lot. One bruise barely fades away and there's a new one in its place. It's like walking on thin ice with Daryl, he was easy to piss off almost always, but he was as easy to please, always hot and cold.

Some small part of sanity in my head told me it was just crazy to be around someone like him. An old redneck junkie, he doesn't even have a job except being part of his brother's motorcycle gang and selling the same drugs he's taking. He disappears for two weeks sometimes for hunting with his dad and then appears on my horizon again. He barely takes my calls and doesn't stay in the morning, always running away.

He did start to open up a little with time, especially when on Ecstasy, he's telling some stuff without even realizing he's sharing something personal, and then never mentions it again. Probably regretting saying anything or he simply doesn't remember he did.

Like this one time when we were laying in his bed, shirts off, his back turned to me as I tried to put him to sleep. My hand slid around his back, gently tracing his scars with tips of my fingers.

"I already know they're ugly, so stop." Daryl grumbled shifting his shoulders, his shoulder blades moving under the thick skin.

"I don't think they are." I whisper and kiss his shoulder when one of the scars starts. I see Daryl shiver a little from the kiss, probably because my mustache started growing out and grazed his skin. I didn't even shave as often as I used to, too tired for that after all the night shifts of babying Daryl.

"Liar. They're disturbing." Daryl mumbled turning his face into the pillow.

"Do I look disturbed to you?" I whispered and trail kisses up his shoulder to his neck, sucking behind his ear a little. Daryl shivers again.

"Screw you." Daryl grumbled and I run my fingers through his hair.

"How did you get them anyway?" I ask softly.

"A little bit of rough love from me daddy." Daryl mumbled and my heart sank. I already suspected that it was from childhood abuse but hearing it from his mouth was like someone hit me in the chest. "I don't know why ya stickin' 'round freak like me. Fucked up, idiot hillbilly. Damn ridiculous." He laughs bitterly.

"'Cause I like you." I whisper propping myself up on one elbow and looking down at Daryl in the dim light of late evening.

"Well ya shouldn't." Daryl's voice turned gruff and hoarse. He turned towards me looking into my eyes. "I don't like you. I ain't gay. I told ya." I swallow down a lump of emotions in my throat and drop my head back down onto the pillow.

"Just go to sleep." I mumble pressing my face to the back of Daryl's shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist. Technically I knew he said that, I knew that, I just never believed it, I still don't, he's definitely gay just doesn't want to admit it to himself, let alone someone else. That's why he's always high around me, to forget, to allow himself to feel for a little while, to have an excuse for his actions. But I hoped he'll get over it, for now he's so deep in that closet he found his own Narnia to keep him away from reality.

There was several other occasions when he reminded me of that, saying he doesn't like me but his actions were saying otherwise. He liked having me around. He talked to me, he hugged me, he caressed me, he let me kiss him. It meant something, at least for me.

Slowly my pace of internations with Daryl was starting to exhaust me. Night-time meetings were taking all the energy. Me being late to work and classes started getting more frequent. Slowly my grades went down, exhaustion after spending nights on Daryl was leaving me to sleep in class and at the daytime. I did less homework and more Daryl. Stupid, bad decisions, he makes me do, but I craved him more than I ever craved anything or anyone else.