Finding Myself, Finding You *Daryl Dixon X OC*

Chapter Twenty-Nine

*TW—brief mention of suicide

The nights were starting to get chilly, so Daryl grabbed my blanket off my bed and brought it downstairs. He cozied back up to me and draped it across our laps, snaking his arm back around me. He held me close while I drank my tea, making sure I was warm both inside and out. He tilted my head gently in his direction and planted another kiss on the side of my face, his facial hair lightly scratching my cheek. Ever since I gave Daryl permission to be more touchy, but particularly within the last few days, he'd been showering my head and face with kisses. It was like he couldn't stop himself, like he couldn't keep himself off of me. Dare I say my little Georgia peach was a bit...clingy in private. And I was eating that shit up.

What the hell did I ever do to deserve this man?

"Sorry 'bout that again," Daryl apologized, "really was just a slip-up."

"I know, it's ok." I took another sip of my tea, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. "I just don't think I can go by Lydia again. Which honestly feels shitty."

I thought I'd gotten all of my feelings out, but they continued to spill out of me against my will like word vomit. "I've had to grieve myself in a way. Grieve who I was before it happened. I miss her." Daryl caught a tear as it ran down my cheek and wiped it away.

"Fuck, sorry," I sighed, wiping tears off my other cheek with my sleeve, "I thought I was done crying."

"Can cry as much as ya need," Daryl reassured.

I set the now half-empty mug on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I swallowed all of this shit for a year. I thought if I ignored it, started going by my last name, didn't think or talk about it, I could pretend like it never happened. I could move on, I could feel normal."

I squeezed my eyes shut to try to prevent more tears from escaping and covered my face with my hands in shame. "I just wanna feel normal again. I can't sleep, I can't shower without having a panic attack, I can't even look at myself. What the hell am I supposed to do?" I sobbed into my hands, some of my tears slipping around my hands and trickling into my ears. I did my best to stifle the sounds of my sobs as, frankly, I'd grown tired of hearing myself cry.

"Vec? Can ya look at me?" he asked. I rubbed my eyes with my fists and turned my head to him, resting it on the back of the couch. Despite rubbing my eyes, they quickly filled with tears again, clouding my visual of the beautiful man in front of me. He held my face with his hand, stroking my cheek and jawline with his thumb as he talked.

"Just 'cause that happened don't mean ya ain't normal. Nothin' ya did to deserve it, and it ain't your fault. I'll tell ya that as much as ya need to hear it." He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, catching a tear as he did. "I know ya been strugglin' a lot lately, but ya got this. And I'm here to help. Ain't saying I got all the answers, but I ain't gonna let ya try to figure it out all by yaself."

I ask again, what the hell did I ever do to deserve this man?

"I'd say you're gonna make me cry, but I already am," I said. I locked my eyes with his. Though my vision was still cloudy, I knew he was doing that thing with his eyes again, looking deep into mine, past all the tears and the trauma and the bullshit. No human had ever made me feel so seen, safe, and cared for. "You're incredible, Daryl. I don't know what else to say."

"For someone who talks a lot, surprisin' to see ya speechless," he teased, pulling a tiny smile from me.

I did have words. But those words were I love you, and to me, this wasn't the most appropriate context to say them for the first time. I was saving them for the right occasion.