Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Cancer

"The hardest part of this is leaving you."

It had been a number of months since the moonshine. To tell you the truth, I didn't have the time to keep track. Dad was a lost cause for the hospital and they didn't want the bills to stack up for me, so he was bed-ridden at home. The same home he'd nurtured myself in when I was sick as a child, the same home he'd taught me how to cook in, the same home he'd taught me everything really. He and Daryl were all I had, and now my dad was dying slowly and Daryl...well, I don't know. We had never fully let each other go, but neither one of us had made an effort to clear up our moonshine dispute.

Did I still think about the younger Dixon? Of course, just when I had the time. It was usually always during the occasional sleepless nights where I'd sit in my bay window staring longingly out at the woods like I was in some damn movie. A couple of times I briefly noticed Daryl around the outskirts of the backyard, but he'd retreated quickly and resumed whatever he was doing. I always assumed he was hunting.

But now, right now, I sat in the living room half-paying attention to whatever was going on in the news while sketching an ungodly amount of eyes. That was my forte. You know the saying: eyes are the gateway to the soul? Yeah, that's why. That was why I decided to be an art major; I always enjoyed deeper meaning in my artwork.

"And now for breaking news; a new virus has begun spreading throughout the country. Scientists say they aren't sure what the cause of the virus is but are working incredibly hard to find a cure."

My attention left the notepad in my lap and shifted full-force to the news story on the TV. "Scientists say it's like a brain-eating cancer that takes control of the brain. Once infected, the subject's only thoughts and actions are to eat any animal nearby, and even other humans. The name 'zombie virus' has been floating around. The catch, however, is that it only affects those who die."

Those who die? So really a zombie virus? A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I was grateful for that, who knows where they might have gone. Turning off the TV, I stood and walked to the front door, expecting another doctor to check up on Dad since he was too weak to move at this point.

When I opened the door...shocked would be a good word. On our front porch stood Daryl Dixon, his dark blue jeans a bit dirty, a brown flannel with the sleeves cut off hugging his chest, his sandy blond hair a bit ruffled up, and his deep blue eyes staring into my hazel ones. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights, I sure as hell felt like one. He stared at me with his usual stone-cold expression. What do I do? What do I say? Should I do or say anything?

Without thinking I threw myself at the younger Dixon. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, nuzzling my face into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. It took him a minute, but he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist doing the same. I stood on my tip-toes, my feet barely touching the ground as we swayed lightly.

"Hey, Dixon," I said into his neck as a small sniffle escaped me. 

"Hey, B." 

We stayed there for a couple of minutes before his grip on me loosened and I was lowered back on my own two feet. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, keeping my gaze on our feet. 

"Belle." The sound of Daryl's gruff voice caused me to lift my gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. 

I nodded. "Moonshine," we both said in unison. 

"I know." 

"Always told ya I wasn't a good drunk," he said with a small smirk looking down. A chuckled brushed past my lips as I smiled. This is what I missed.