It's Not Living Without You (Desus)

Chapter Twelve

Note: The song for this chapter is "Bleeding out" by Imagine Dragons. I'm going to start making song suggestions for every chapter so you can listen while you read

Jesus had watched Daryl run out of the church. He leaned against a wall, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He had already lost Maggie. He didn't want to lose anyone else.

Maggie had wanted Daryl there for Beth. Maybe he should go after to Daryl, just to make sure he was okay. He started to follow, but Rick grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"Give him some time." He said quietly.

Rick swayed slightly on his feet, looking exhausted. They had lost a lot, but they had also gained everything. They needed to focus on the positives.

You had to, in this world. Linger too long on the bad things, and you'll go insane.

Jesus looked out the church windows at the sunset. There was still beauty in the world.

"Everyone go rest." Rick said, with a sigh.

"We'll clean up this mess tomorrow."

****

Daryl sat there, staring blankly at the ground.

What kind of life was this?

He buried his head in his hands.

He had smoked cigarette after cigarette, and his hands throbbed from the burns. How long had he been sitting here, staring at nothing? Minutes? Hours? He didn't care.

Did anything really matter anymore?

Daryl didn't even raise his head when he heard the rustling of tree branches. If it was a walker, so be it.

A hand grasped his shoulder, and he waited, unmoving.

For fucks sake.

He silently begged the walker to kill him already.

Then someone cleared their throat. He glanced up, and of course, it was Jesus.

"Leave." He spat.

Jesus simply sat next to him, a pained look on his face. He held out a can of food.

"I brought you something, in case you're hungry..." he said quietly.

Daryl glared.

"I ain't hungry."

Daryl put his head in his hands again.

Jesus nudged him gently.

Daryl's head snapped up, and he raised a fist, fully intent on punching the bastard next to him.

Jesus flinched.

He held Daryl's vest out hesitantly, fully expepecting to be punched in the face.

Daryl slowly lowered his fist, and took the vest. It didn't feel like his own anymore. He could only picture it on Dwight.

He scowled.

They sat in silence.

"I'm sorry, about...Carol." Jesus murmured.

Daryl stared expressionlessly at the ground. He felt nothing.

"Daryl, please, say something." Jesus begged.

"Leave." Daryl responded.

He wasn't in the mood for this. He couldn't... he couldn't talk about it. Not now.