The hallway creaked with an eerie silence, as the entire prison was asleep except for you and the person you were heading to see. Your footsteps against the cold floor seemed louder in the dead of night, and the prison walls seemed colder in the dark. But wrapping your thin sweater closer around your body, you continue on down to the furthest cell.
You knew he was reluctant to take up a cell, as he slept most every night out on the perch but once winter came he decided to move into one. The cell furthest from everyone as he still enjoyed his privacy and space away from the rest of the group.
Reaching the cell you were aiming for, you push the thin sheet covering the doorway back slowly. The glow of a lantern floods the room, and you know he isn't asleep. Stepping into the small cell, you let the sheet fall back and cover the doorway again.
Daryl Dixon stands with his back to you, those angel wings stitched to the back of his vest staring right at you. His hands fiddle with something, arrows you assume as he sets something down on the small dresser next to the bed.
The cell is silent. Even more so than the eerie hallways were. His cell is silent, not a word and not a noise to be heard. Yet the silence is deafening. As if the looming quiet is screaming at the top of it's lungs. Words felt not heard.
His tall broad body, that is cast in a shadow from the warm dim glow of the lantern, turns. His eyes looking up and meeting yours, his eyebrows raising just an inch as he is taken aback for a mere second, before waiting to know why you are here in his cell this late.
The blue that glimmers in the low light, looks to you with expectation and patience. Quietly waiting for you to say what it is that you came here to say to him.
"I care about you." You speak into the thick silence that fills the cell. And your voice feels small, timid and overshadowed even in the confined space. But you say the words as strong as you can, not taking your eyes off the man in front of you that you came here to see.
"I care about you Daryl, and what happened to your brother is something that I wouldn't wish upon anyone." His eyes drop and he shifts uncomfortably from the topic of his brother.
"But I get it. I understand and I can empathize with you because I get it. I know what it's like to lose someone, we all do. I sympathize with your pain Daryl, because I care about you. And I'm not going to stop caring about you, no matter how hard you try and push me away."
Daryl's eyes refuse to meet yours, directing his gaze down at the floor and around at the walls. Anywhere and everywhere but your eyes.
"Get out." His voice is low, quiet but steady. And from the slight tone in his voice, you know that all he wants to do is avoid you and this conversation. But you can't.
Days had passed since Daryl came back with the news that Merle was dead, and ever since then he had been more distant than usual. From you, from everyone. You knew he was hurting, even if he would never admit it to you or anyone else. And all you wanted was for him to know that he didn't have to go through this loss alone.
"And I know that you care about me too," Your voice falls to a light whisper that suddenly feels loud in the small space. And instead of doing what he asked, leaving him alone, you take a step closer to him. "And it isn't too late for us."
There had been progress. Days when you saw that Daryl was beginning to trust you and let you in. Times when Daryl's walls had begun to come down. But after the death of his brother, it seemed any and all progress was stalled and forgotten.
"Get out." Daryl repeats, his gaze still not meeting yours even as you are inches away from him now. His voice is stern and grumbles lowly, but it feels as though meaning does not touch his words. Like he wants to feel angry and annoyed with your presence and that all he wants is for you to leave him alone. But he for some reason feels like he... Isn't and doesn't.
"Admit it," You plead, taking another small step towards him. And by now, you had expected him to step away but to your surprise he hasn't moved away from you at all. "I know you care about me too, I know you do."
Daryl's eyes slowly float up to meet yours, hesitation evident in his beautiful blues.
"I care about you Daryl Dixon."
"I care about you." You repeat, and you know that the only way to get something out of him is to keep poking and pushing. You know because you've done it once, and you're determined to get past those walls again.
"I care about you. I care about you." Your voice raises with each repetition and you don't care that others might hear you soon. The only person you care about hearing you is the person standing in front of you.
"I care about you!" You yell this time. "I care about--"
And suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. Hot and heavy and aching with pain and need. His hands craddle your face, his calloused fingers gliding over your soft tanned skin.
Daryl kisses you with every word he can't say and he kisses you with every emotion he can't express. He holds you close to him as though you are a lifeline and in some ways, maybe just maybe you are.
He doesn't have to say the words back, in fact he doesn't have to say anything at all. With Daryl, you've learned that his silence and the expressions in his eyes are louder than any words he could possibly say. And right here, right now... You know he cares about you too.
A/N: I love this one, hope you all do too! 😊
