Unbreakable threads

Chapter one hundred and fourteen: Daryl confesses everything.

For once, Alyssa was speechless. The sharp sarcasm, the quick comebacks, the dark humor she always wielded as her armor—all of it was gone. Daryl's words had knocked the wind out of her, leaving her in a state of complete shock. The horn blared in the distance, the walkers shifted and groaned behind them, but she barely registered any of it.

Her fingers gripped the back of his vest a little tighter as the silence stretched between them, the weight of what he'd said pressing down on her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she found her voice. It was quieter than usual, hesitant and laced with confusion.

"What is it that you feel?" she asked, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

Daryl tensed at her question, his back stiffening as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His knuckles were white on the handlebars, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to answer. But he couldn't leave it hanging—not after he'd already let the dam break.

"I don't know how to explain it," he muttered gruffly, his voice low but tinged with frustration, mostly at himself. "I don't... I ain't ever felt like this before."

Alyssa's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she tried to process his words. "Daryl..." she started, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say next.

He cut her off, his voice rising slightly, though it was still thick with emotion. "It's like... you're the only person that's ever understood me. Ever made me feel like I'm worth somethin'. And I know it ain't right, Alyssa. I know it. But I can't stop it. I tried, and it don't go away."

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and Alyssa felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn't know what to do with this—didn't know how to respond to the man who had been her protector, her closest friend, someone she had leaned on for years.

Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, tangled with the chaos of the moment, but she managed to say something, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Daryl shook his head, his grip on the handlebars tightening as he let out a humorless laugh. "What was I supposed to say, huh? 'Hey, Alyssa, I know you see me like a friend or a brother, but I've gone and messed it all up'? "

The vulnerability in his voice was like nothing Alyssa had ever heard from him before, and it shook her to her core. She didn't have an answer, didn't have any clarity to offer—not now, not with the world quite literally falling apart around them.

This wasn't just some confession. This was Daryl—the man who had been her protector, her anchor, even a father figure at one point. She remembered the time back at the prison when she had accidentally called him "Dad." It had been awkward, but neither of them had made a big deal of it. Their bond had always been unique, unspoken but unbreakable. And now? Now she didn't know what to do with the weight of what he had just revealed.

She swallowed hard, her voice shaking slightly when she finally managed to speak. "I thought you didn't... couldn't... feel shit like that?"

Her words came out blunt, but that was all she could manage. It wasn't sarcasm, and it wasn't a jab—it was pure confusion. Daryl had always been the one who avoided emotions, who didn't talk about anything remotely personal. And now, here he was, laying it all out there, right in the middle of one of the most chaotic moments they'd ever faced.

Daryl tensed at her words, his back stiffening under her grip. His jaw worked as he tried to find the right words, his voice low and strained when he finally answered. "I didn't think I could either," he admitted, his tone almost bitter. "Didn't think I was built for it. But then... you..."

Alyssa swallowed hard, her voice shaking slightly as she cut him off : "Daryl, I'm gay—"

Daryl immediately bristled, his back stiffening beneath her grip. He knew what she was. She'd told him first, back at the prison, when she was still trying to figure herself out. He had been the one she confided in, the one she trusted to hold that part of her. And she knew he knew it, so the reminder felt like a jab, whether she meant it to be or not.