You could hear the crickets chirping through the thin farm house walls, and the sound of their nighttime music echoed in the small room. It broke through the silence that floated over the old oak floorboards and crawled into every crevice.
The silence was unsettling. You were used to the noise of the nocturnal wildlife and the snores of those around you as you usually slept in close quarters now. The old bedroom didn't have any of that. It had a thick and bouncy mattress with a handstitched colorful quilt. It had an oil lamp burning on the dresser, illuminating the pale pink painted walls. The room was too soft for you now, it seemed to be too out of place in the world now.
The smooth floorboards were cool against the bare padding of your feet, as you slid your legs out from beneath the sheets, and the chill ran a slight shiver up your spine. Spreading goosebumps against your sunburned skin, and causing you to shake for a moment despite the humidity in the air.
Your feet timidly tiptoed across the room, opening the door slowly as not to wake those who were sleeping in the room right outside. And slipping out, you passed those spread out on the couches and in sleeping bags they had brought in. Even out here, with the low snores and whispers of sleep that you had missed, the silence was unsettling.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, your eyes glance out the screen door for a split second and catch sight of someone standing on the wide white painted porch. You didn't even have to see his face to identify who it was. His vest gave him away.
That deep black leather vest, that looked sweltering in the summer heat, was identifiable anywhere from the angel wings that adorned the fabric. You could spot it across the field as he walked behind the barn or when he zoomed away in his motorcycle, and still as he disappeared from sight, those angel wings let you know who it was.
The screen door lets out a faint squeak as you push it open, and you cringe as it bangs softly shut behind you. Catching the attention of the man with the angel wings, who stands leaning against the porch railing. His head whips around at the sudden noise, and his blue eyes dart to you. For a moment, you can see the rigidness that overtakes his muscles. The defense already coursing through him. But as his eyes scan over your thin and pajama clad body, they soften.
The air is thick with heat and humidity, even at this hour of night, as though a storm is rolling in. But there's a faint breeze that blows through, and rustles through your thin cotton shirt that falls to cover the shorts you wear. And although its warm out, you suddenly feel very underdressed underneath Daryl Dixon's heavy gaze.
"Hey." You whisper breathlessly, the only word escaping you to break through the uncomfortable silence.
Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to another as you walk slowly towards him, and he mirrors the same words in a low murmur. Your bare feet patter against the wood as you reach the railing, stretching your arms that had been wrapped tightly around yourself, out across the smoothly painted wooden rail.
"Can't sleep?" You ask, as you release a little breath through your noise. Only to breathe in a new breath, this one full of fresh air. And you feel as it shoots through your lungs with a clearness that radiates through your body.
Daryl shakes his head with a small grunt. "You neither?"
You shake your head just as he did, but you don't look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes focused on the vast farm land seeming to roll out forever in the darkness.
"Its too quiet in there," You explain simply. "feels too much like everything used to be. Except it isn't."
Daryl hums softly, as if to acknowledge your words in some small way. Telling you he heard you and listened to what you had to say.
