Self Inflicted

39

I believe that Abraham took Reg's body to go bury him. They took Pete's body too but I'm not so sure anyone is worried about burying him. I talked to Michonne quickly before I left and she was calmer than expected. I think she knew it was a matter of time. Rick took off with who I learned is Morgan and Maggie helped Deanna back to her house. 

I head off in the direction of our home. It could be Daryl and I's alone. Lord knows he will never go for that. I walk past the bathroom in the hallway that's closest to our room, the shower is on. No one was in the house when I came in. Truthfully, people have started to form homes on their own. I think it's just Carol, Rick, and Carl in here right now with us. But Carol and Carl sleep downstairs and Rick is still gone. So, Daryl? I slowly open the door and look around, sure enough there is a leather vest on the ground. 

Taking a deep breath, I step in the bathroom and close the door behind me. His back is to me and he's washing himself. Through the frosted door I can make out his figure and that's pretty much it. "What do ya want?" he grumbles. Of course he heard me come in. 

"For you to talk to me," I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. 

"Talk." He abruptly shuts the water off and turns around, opening the door slightly to grab a towel. He dries off some and then wraps it around his waist, stepping out into the humid atmosphere. I think my mouth actually does fall open slightly, just gawking at him. He has a tattoo across his chest on his left side. He's dripping with water and his hair is sticking to the side of his head. He looks GOOD. He's well built and well, I was already obsessed with a shirt. Let alone without. 

He turns around quickly to shut the shower door. I can make out a couple more tattoos but also scarring, running up and down his back. A lot of it. When he faces me again I try to pretend like I wasn't looking at his back.

"I missed you today," he looks shocked. Like he expected everything but that. He seemed like he was preparing for a fight. He doesn't say it back but I can see something in his eyes, longing maybe. Even without boots, he's significantly taller than me and I have to look up slightly to meet his eyes. "And I'm sorry." 

"For what?" 

"For pushing you too much. If you aren't ready for that kind of thing, I'm sorry," he looks so uncomfortable and he's chewing the inside of his mouth as always. 

"I jus'-- I haven't done that," he looks away from me and shifts his weight. My eyes widen. You mean he's never done it? There's no way that a man that looks like this hasn't. 

"What? Really?" I must've put too much emphasis on those words because he shifts and quickly pushes past me, grabbing his clothes and heading out the door. 

"Jus' forget it," he mumbles and he's so quick getting into our room but I'm right on his heel. I shut it behind us and his back is to me, shrugging on a shirt and he pulls on some underwear beneath the towel. Then quickly some pants. 

"Daryl, I don't care," he glances a side eye at me but just continues dressing. "Come on, Daryl. I don't give a shit. That means absolutely nothing if you have or haven't." 

"I said forget it," he's slightly louder this time and his tone means business. He sits on the bed to put socks on, after he gets his second on I walk in front of him and put my hands on his shoulders. 

"Is that why you've been avoiding everything with me?" He doesn't respond so I know I'm right. "Why do you think I would care?"

"You had a damn fiance. Why the hell would you want someone like me?" he's standing now in front of me, yelling. I swear it's like he doesn't know how to communicate anything without shouting. No doubt a result of those scars on his back. 

"I love you." It came out before I could stop it. I throw my hand over my mouth and Daryl looks as if he's been shot, his eyes are wide. "Well, maybe now wasn't the time but it's true." He doesn't move or say a word. 

"I didn't even know it until right now, I'm sorry." I shift uncomfortably in front of him, it feels as if my insides are on display for him to see. He can see it all and he knows how I feel. 

"No." My head shoots up and I shake my head quickly. "Ya don't. Ya can't." He tries to go around me but this time he isn't going anywhere. I put my hand on his chest and shove him backward lightly. 

"God damnit, Daryl. Just stop!" He looks confused. "Stop pretending like you feel nothing! Stop pretending like you can tell me how I feel!" I'm shouting and I don't mean to but I've had enough of him running away. "And stop running away as soon as something gets hard," the last word rolls off my tongue like a growl. 

"What do ya want me to say? That we're gon' live happily ever after? Like something is a big fairytale?" he spitting at me and bending down into my face. He points his finger at my chest and it feels like a dagger. His blue eyes are shaded by his hair but I can see what he's feeling. Fear. Pure fear. 

"Are you ever going to let yourself be happy?" it comes out as soft as a whisper but the volume means nothing, the words are thick and heavy. They weigh overtop of us and the entire room, weighing us down. "What are the scars from?" I don't think he ever knows what to expect when I talk. His demeanor shifts and he takes a visible step back, sinking. 

"Nothin'," he looks away and shakes his head. 

"Daryl, I saw them. What are they from?" I persist. 

"What do ya want to hear?" he's yelling again but I can hear the hurt in his voice. "That they're from my daddy? That he used to get drunk and hit me? That he was a mean?" He's throwing his hands around and his face is getting red. "You'll probably tell me that's why I am the way I am. Screwed up because of my daddy." He stops and neither one of us moves. I honestly kind of figured it may be something like this. The way he acts and the scars, it just makes sense. 

"I don't think you're screwed up," I'm quiet. "I think that never should have happened. But it made you the man you are. And I love you, Daryl." He's shaking his head.

"Why?" he mutters.

"I love you because you are strong. You hold me and everyone around you together. You're kind, smart, talented, and an amazing man." I walk over in front of him. "You are nothing like your father, I know that. You are not screwed up." That's when he whimpers. He drops his head onto my shoulder and lets his arms hang at his sides. I wrap my arms around him and kiss his head.

We really don't say much else when we go to bed. Daryl holds onto me for dear life, he's never held me like that before and I've never felt more at home.