The Walking Dead: You're Beautiful - A Tara and Rosita Fanfiction

Chapter 8: Regrets

The next day

It's the afternoon. By the looks of it, I'd say it's about 2 PM or so. I'm uptight. I still haven't seen any sign of Rosita. I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't feel devastated right now. It's this odd mixture of regretting virtually every bit of last night, but also longing for more. Damn it, I love her so much.

Every sweet (albeit foggy) memory of her soft lips dancing gracefully over my own is currently waltzing through my mind. Thing is, I can still feel how it felt. Her confidence rocked me, waking up every sense inside of my body. Despite being so damn drunk, the alcohol made everything much more intense. Everything was heightened in those incredible moments.

She was the one who took command. She did! Not me! My only fault was that I didn't stop her. I didn't know how, and I certainly didn't want to...but how the hell was I supposed to know? A non-consenting woman isn't going to throw me around or undress me the way she did. Shit, now I am all stirred up all over again, wanting nothing more than to have her pin me against the bed and paint a masterpiece with her lips against the canvas of my face. What I wouldn't do to marry her and have her by my side for the rest of my life...however long tha may be.

I stretch my back, releasing a sporadic burst of satisfying pops and cracks. As I walk down the street by her house, I hang my head in a sort of saddened shame, with my hands in my pockets as I trudge along. I believe I've thoroughly ruined the chance of me ever living inside it with her. She won't trust me for quite some time. Damn it, I've screwed everything up.

Hesitantly, I stop to look over to see if she's home: I can't tell. As I stand there, I see the doorknob turning slowly to open. She doesn't see me as she leaves. I offer an unconfident and awkward wave in her direction. She looks up, her face shifting into one of pure discomfort. From the looks of it, she isn't angry (believe me, you can't miss that fiery temper of hers). I suppose that's a relief. On the other hand, she doesn't say a word to me, continuing on her way, making a distinct effort to avoid eye contact with me. I notice she's got a military green backpack hitched onto her.

I'm torn: do I follow her and risk making things worse? Or do I leave her be to sort it out on her own? God, I wish I knew what to do! I don't know where she's going, but she's not in the emotional state to go out there. Shit! My mouth takes over before my brain can think it all through.

"Rosita!" I call out. "Wait up!"

She doesn't even acknowledge it. I chase after her.

"Rosita, please." I stand in front of her, trying to stop her. "I'm sorry!"

"Not now, Tara. Out of my way."

She pushes through and meets up with Eugene, who is standing around the corner. He, too, is equipped with a backpack. I am only left to speculate where they're going. I make brief eye contact with him and he offers a reassuring nod and a wink I can only describe as cumbersome. I won't stop them - I've already fucked everything up enough (though if anything goes wrong, I won't let myself hear the end of it).

I walk away, looking behind me only occasionally. I hear Eugene yammering on about something; Rosita is certainly not going to be in the mood for that. Once I'm a fair distance away, I glance over one final time. Spencer is trying to stop whatever they are trying. I have to agree with his actions. However, knowing she's with Eugene makes me a bit more comfortable. Seeing as he is in on the situation, he'll be able to navigate the ins and outs of everything, since Rosita won't let me near her.

It's time to take care of something very I should have taken care of a while ago. I continue along my way, walking hastily to get to my destination. Then, before I know it, there I am. Before me is Denise's grave, dug only a few weeks ago. I kneel down, feeling tears well up in my eyes all over again.

"I'm sorry, Denise," I whisper to her resting place. "For everything, not just what happened with Rosita. You were right. I should have stayed home - with you. Maybe...maybe shit'd be different, I don't know. Maybe you'd still be here, or maybe that'd be me where you are, where I belong. Damn it! I wish I could tell you how much I loved you, one more time. Shit, I'm so fucked up."

I bury my face into my hands.

"You were so good to me. I'm so sorry, Denise. I am so sorry."

I see someone approaching me out of the corner of my eye. It's Scott. He looks rattled as he comes closer.

"Tara," he says frantically. "Just got word from Kent...he was outside the walls, lookin' for supplies...saw some trucks belongin' to the Saviors, headed our way."