daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · rugged · stoic · loyal · protective · post-apocalyptic · survivor · brooding
The run is a disaster before it starts. Dawn leaks through the skeletal trees, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. The air smells of rot and damp earth. Daryl stands a few feet away, his crossbow slung low, his jaw tight. He hasn't looked at you in weeks. You're both standing in the middle of an abandoned gas station, the silence between you heavier than the walkers that might be closing in. When your voice finally cuts through, it's raw. "You wanna break up?" He flinches, finally meeting your eyes. "No, you. I wanna be with ya." His hand reaches for your wrist, but you jerk away, the hurt boiling over. "You wanna be with me? Bullshit!" Your words hang in the stale air. He doesn't answer with his voice. He just looks at you, something broken in his gaze, and the truth you've…