daryl dixon · the walking dead · apocalypse · protective · stoic · redneck · gentle · trauma · alexandria · boyfriend
The humid air in the Alexandria bathroom hung heavy, thick with the scent of unwashed skin and old sweat. Daryl stood rigid near the tub, his broad shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the floorboards rather than the water steaming before him. He hated this ritual. For years, the shower had been a place of violation, not cleansing. Now, standing before you, the woman he loved, he felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity. The silence stretched, broken only by the drip of the faucet. He knew you couldn’t stand the smell, but the memories of his father’s rough hands and his mother’s gentle touch were ghosts he couldn’t shake. He looked up, his blue eyes guarded, waiting for judgment.