Chapter 50 - Just Another Manic Monday (The Bangles)

1.4K 69 12
                                    

NATE

It's confession time, folks!

You guys have to fess up and lay yourselves bare. Ummmm, metaphorically speaking....natch.

Just one question. Because I really need to know if this is normal....

Or maybe, it's just me?

Have you ever swum up reluctantly from the safe cocoon of sleep? Peel open your eyes to see the ceiling glowing in the dawn light. And the very first thought to run through your head is....

Nup! That's it....I'm done. Today? I really can't be fucked!

Please, please....please  admit it!

Because right now? I'm feeling like the world's most grumpiest, selfish and laziest cow.

And I just need to know. If everyone has had at least one day like this since the world went to hell in a handcart.

Fib if you have to, dagnabit!

*

Today will be the first day in over a month, when I won't be covered in bodily fluids that aren't my own....or Dixons  😊

When the stench of burnt and rotting flesh won't be filling my nostrils.

That I won't get blister upon blister from digging up gardens and grass for the new veggie patches.

Or new bruises from having the crap beaten out of me by Jorge or splinters from cutting overhanging branches from the fence line or covered in pond sludge....or....or....

So, I reckon I can be forgiven for foolishly dreaming of a day full of nothing but selfish sloth? To stay cuddled up in Daryl. Until he wakes and heads off with Rick on a 'Bro road-trip'.

And then, maybe? I'll just stay here for the rest of the day. Only get up to feed the Mutt, stuff my face, drink and have a pee.

Nup....screw that!  I simply wanna sleep the day through. Won't even feel embarrassed if I wet the damned bed.

Is it too much to ask for? A day off, play hooky and do absolutely nothing whatsoever.

Nup....nup....that's not quite right. I'm Nate, the planner and I need to have a to-do list. Got one down pat in my head, where I can tick off as I go :

a) Fuck!  ✔️

b) This!  ✔️

c) Shit!  ✔️

Yup, folks. Yours truly is just one bright little ray of pure shitshine today. And for the life of me? I honestly don't know why.

I turned in Daryl's arms until my nose snuggled up against his throat. Softly kiss the little spot where his vein pulses visibly under the skin. Before closing my eyes again.

He made a tiny, croony noise in his sleep and rolled over. Taking my hand in his then pulling it up to his chest. Clasping it tightly in his fist when he felt my next kiss on his shoulder blade.

Nup, it's bloody useless. I can't get back to sleep, have got myself way too grumped up now.

Maybe I need to do what Dixon does? And ponder the meaning of life until I come up with the answer.

As to why I'm feeling like I have one mutha of a hangover....without the pleasure of the cause  🥴

*

Home Is Your Heartbeat ('Home Is' Book Two - Daryl Dixon)Where stories live. Discover now