The Greene's family farm looked like a real life painting. The way the green fields stretched for miles and the bright sun set in the vast blue sky. The yellow sunshine fading away as pinks and deep oranges filled the space.
It was a picture so beautiful it scared you to touch, but you could. And you did. There was no paint to smudge or pencil to erase. Just warm summer air to breathe in deeply and fresh grass to run your fingertips through. A breeze to blow through your hair and sunshine to feel against your skin.
Leaning your head back against the tall oak tree, you stare out at the land seeming to roll on forever out in front of you. To the white picket fence and beyond. The rich green grass fading in the far distance into the tree lines.
Stretching your worn and tired legs out in front of you, you shut your eyes. Still feeling the warmth from the setting sun on your eyelids and face. Blackness clothes your vision for only a short second, for images of the day flash before you. Ruining any break away from it all.
Just as your eyes open, the faint sound of boots walking through the long blades of green grass captures your attention. Turning your head, you spot Daryl Dixon making his way towards you.
His hands grip his crossbow that is strapped across his back, covering up the angel wings stitched on the back of the vest he has yet to ever take off. His eyes are trained downward towards the grass he strolls through, but you know he's seen you. You know he's walking over to see you.
"Shane's lookin for ye." Is the first thing Daryl says once he approaches you. A foot away now, his shadow casting over you as he stands tall whereas you sit down in the grass.
Shaking your head, you let out a sigh as you roll your eyes. "Of course he is."
Your remark is mumbled in a low tone, and you almost want to laugh. Not because the situation is funny, but because he couldn't come find you himself. And what makes you want to laugh that much more, is the fact that he not only had someone else come get you but that that person happened to be Daryl Dixon. The one person who usually doesn't give a shit about anyone else's problems, yet here he stands coming with a message from Shane.
"So," You begin with a reluctant sigh. "What did he tell you to tell me?"
You don't look at Daryl as you ask him, instead you rest your head back against the tree and stare out at the fading light in the sky.
Daryl snorts a low noise, something a cross between a laugh and a grunt. His feet walk through the grass, and soon he's standing next to you. "Didn't tell me nothin."
That makes you look up at the redneck towering above you. He too, stares out at the fading daylight and his shirt blows a little in the soft evening breeze.
"Then why are you here? I mean, I assumed Shane would be looking for me, but I don't understand why you're here telling me if he didn't tell you anything to tell me." Your explaination rambles on slightly, your gaze falling to your hands that twist anxiously in your lap.
Your words end and not a second later, Daryl plops down in the grass silently beside you. Letting out a sigh and shrugging off his crossbow. Setting it down in the long grass, he wraps his arms around his knees that are bent.
"Cause I wanted an excuse to come see if ye were alright." His voice is low and softer as he looks downward at a blade of grass in between his fingers. But you catch every word.
Looking to your left, you study the redneck who came over to check on you. Surprising you with his reason, kindness. That's all it was. He came over to you out of the kindess of his hidden heart. And it makes your chest swell and smile softly at the blue eyed man beside you.
As you look away from Daryl, after watching him for some time in the comfortable silence, you look down at your wrist in your lap. The bruise forming in a dark shade of purple on your skin.
Your eyes trace the mark so closely, you don't notice Daryl's hand inching toward your hand until he holds your left hand in his right. His finger careful not to even graze the mark on your wrist, instead holding your fingers.
Looking over at Daryl, you find that his eyes are trained downward skimming over the bruise coloring the skin of your wrist.
"I know he didn't mean to," You say softly, unsure if you're trying to explain it to him or to yourself. "But it doesn't change how much it scared me."
Letting out a shaky sigh, that makes Daryl eyes flutter up to meet yours. "He's changed. I can see it. Everyday. In the way he acts, in the words that he says, in his eyes. This world is getting to him, I know it."
"It gets to all of us." Daryl says calmly, listening to you and still holding your hand in his own. And his touch is welcoming. Warm and tender, caring.
"I know. But seeing him today, and how he grabbed my wrist with so much anger, no matter how misdirected it was, it scared me."
Daryl nods his head, and his eyes fall back down to your wrist. But yours stay steadily focused on him. On his tan face that looks on the verge of becoming sunburned, and his hair that has grown longer since the day you met him. On his eyes that are a wonderous shade of blue and how they look at your bruised wrist with... Anger? Regret? Compassion? You can see a million things rushing through those orbs of blue, but it's impossible to pin point them all.
"Do I scare ye?" Daryl's voice is so soft and timid it almost blows away in the breeze. But as his eyes lift and looks to you nervously, you know you heard him correctly.
"No." You say it without a second thought. Without a shadow of a doubt. "You don't scare me Daryl Dixon."
Daryl nods his head slowly, as if unsure of your answer.
"Why? Do I scare you?" Your question is light, and you can feel the faint smile in your words as you rest the side of your head against the bark of the tree.
Daryl doesn't say anything for a moment, his head slowly raising to look at you again. And when his blue eyes lock with yours, he replies.
"Mhm, scare me something awful."
You want to laugh softly at his response, but as his eyes look to yours, you no longer feel the want.
For in that single moment, as his blue eyes stare into yours and his hand gently holds your wounded wrist, Daryl looks at you in a way Shane never had... And never would.
A/N: So proud and happy with this one!💙
