Meet Me Under Our Willow (A Daryl Dixon Pre-Apocalypse Love Story)

Chapter 13 - I Run To You

I don't know why I'm crying. I seem to be crying a lot over this selfish bastard lately. He doesn't deserve me. Not even close. I'm so sick of wasting my time and energy on someone who doesn't want anything to do with me.

On another note, Noah has parent/teacher conferences, so as his guardian I decided to go. To my surprise, Noah is doing extremely well and hasn't gotten into any trouble. None of his teachers have any problems with them, all they had to say about him was that he was shy. He really performs well in mathematics, and his teacher praised him highly and recommended he be placed in an accelerated class.

On our way home, I decide to speak first, "I'm so proud of you, Noah. Really, I am."

"Thanks."

After a few more minutes of silence, he speaks again, "I just like that school is all."

"Why?" I ask, glancing over at him. He stays quiet. I think of possibilities, and my mind lands on an obvious one.

"Is it because of a girl?" I pry.

This time when I glance over at him, his cheeks have reddened. Bingo.

He avoids the topic, "Are you still screwing that redneck guy?"

I gasp at his foul language, "Hey, watch your mouth. And I was never screwing him, he's a jackass."

He chuckles, "Now who's saying bad words?"

I laugh with him. I love that he's actually being talkative and opening up to me. When we pull into the driveway, I tell him I'll make his favorite meal for dinner, spaghetti. As I begin preparing for dinner, I call my parents to tell them the good news. My mom puts it on speaker phone so my dad can engage in the conversation as well.

"That is so wonderful!" my mother gushes, "Oh, I'm so glad he's doing well. How are you? How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm doing okay." I said, stirring the noodles, "I love my job and all the kids in my class. And the teacher that has a classroom next to mine was, uh, he was very welcoming."

"Oh, really?" Mom hinted.

"We're just friends, Mom." I hint.

"You better be." I hear Dad mutter in the background. I smirk.

"How's that boy, Daryl, doing?" Dad asked.

My hand freezes, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, that's okay, sweetie. Anyways, we'll let you go. We love you guys!" Mom said.

"We love you, too. Bye." I said, hanging up.

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After the spaghetti was ready, Noah and I are chatting and eating on the screened in porch. Headlights shine across the outside of the house and a truck pulls in the driveway. I stand up and tell Noah to stay here. I walk over to the driveway slowly, and the truck shuts off. I recognize the truck and anger spikes.

Daryl opens the drivers door and he slowly gets out.

"You are not welcome here." I spit, "Leave. Now."

Something isn't right. He doesn't immediately respond with a smart ass comment. He looks up at me, his face extremely pale. My anger turns into confusion as I watch him hunch over and slowly make his way around the front of the truck.

"Help me." he wheezes, then collapses onto the gravel.

"Daryl!" I yell, running over to his quivering body. Blood seeps through the back of his shirt, and I gasp in shock, remembering when we were young kids.

"Noah! I need some help!"

He appears from around the corner, and stops short when he sees Daryl on the ground. He regains composure and rushes over to us.

"We need to carry him inside. I need to treat his wounds." I instruct.

Daryl groans in protest as we lift him up and carry him into the house. I guide us to my bedroom and set him on the bed. I tell Noah to get me a wet wash cloth and the first aid kit. Daryl lets out a whimper.

"Don't worry, Dare, I'll take care of you. I promise." I whisper, peeling his shirt off.