#twdff

The sun is shining through your bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden glow over your entire room. Daryl’s dirty blonde hair is illuminated by the light. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist as the two of you sit up on your bed. Your back is against his chest and your hands hold a history text book in your lap. Daryl’s chin is resting on your right shoulder. Sunday’s were study days for you and Daryl Dixon, but they were also cuddling days, too.

“So, the Cherokee Rose,” you started, running your finger over the line of text, “What’s the back story on our state flower?” You question Daryl, since it was his turn to answer the review questions. You hear him softly sigh, causing strands of your hair to blow forward.

“Uhh… Trail of Tears. 1838. Legend that the flower grew after the mothers of the children shed tears on the ground. The flower’s a symbol of hope, giving them courage to keep goin’ on. Givin’ ‘em strength,” Daryl answered. You felt his thumb rub small circles on your stomach.

“Good,” You replied.

“Dunno why we gotta know this stuff,” Daryl rasped. You turned your head to look at him,

“You never know. Might come in handy one day,” You smiled a little, “Besides, I know you love history. Don’t deny it, Dixon.”

He smiled a little and kissed your jaw. He nuzzles his head against yours and motions for you to continue quizzing him. After every answer he gives, Daryl places a soft kiss on your neck. He holds you tighter against him as you read aloud a passage in the text book.

You enjoy every moment you spend with Daryl. Although, you realize that you’ve never been to his house before. You knew he lived with his older brother, Merle, but… you’ve never even met Merle, either. You didn’t know the whereabouts of his parents because he never brought it up. And if he never brought it up, then you weren’t going to pry it out of him–no, you’d wait until he was ready to tell you. You just sort of realized that every time you were together, it was either at your house, on his motorcycle, or at the special field you two liked to be at. You were just curious. It didn’t hurt to ask. And your relationship was pretty deep already.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask him gently. Daryl kisses your collarbone and nods,

“Yeah.”

“How come we’ve never been to your house before?” You turn to meet his eyes. Something in his blue eyes change. He pulls away a little, a heavy feeling growing in his chest.

It was something he’s thought about for a while. Daryl wanted to bring you to his house, but with Merle being there most of the time and his style of life that he brought home, Daryl didn’t think it was safe. It was a drastic change from your own home.

“I don’t want to put ya in that type of environment,” Daryl says lowly. You completely turn around, causing Daryl to let go of his arms around you. He’s now the only one leaning on your bed frame. You’re facing him.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“I mean it ain’t anythin’ like yours. It ain’t that safe.”

“Don’t you live with your brother?”

He looks away, “exactly.”

“Daryl,” you say his name softly. Now you were concerned, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He meets your eyes and sighs. Daryl trusted you and cared about you and you were the most precious thing in his life–he couldn’t hold his secrets back from you anymore. You deserved to know. And he was comfortable enough with you to tell you.

Except, he didn’t even know where to start. How to talk about it. What to do. So, instead, he gets up from your bed and slides his shirt off. You look at him confused but when he turns around and reveals his back that is covered in scars, you gasp. You stand up next to him and place a hand on his back.

“Daryl, did he do this?”

“Merle didn’t. My dad, when I was a kid.”

“Y-your–what about your mom?”

“Died. In a fire.”

You let out a soft gasp and feel your eyes form tears. Daryl looks at you softly, his blue eyes glassy, and you bring him into an embrace. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his bare chest. He holds you tightly in return, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Daryl takes a deep breath; he felt relieved now that you knew.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl. I didn’t mean to make you tell me, I wasn’t–”

“No,” he says against your hair, “I wanted to tell ya. ‘Bout time, I guess.” Daryl runs his fingers through your soft hair and kisses your neck. You pull back and kiss his lips softly.

“You can tell me anything, Daryl. You mean a lot to me, you know that, right?” You tell him, gently running your thumb over his cheekbone. Daryl dips his head. In the beginning it was hard for him to understand this, with his own insecurities and Merle’s taunting words, but of course he believed you. You’re the only person who’s ever cared for him in a healthy, deep, loving way. Daryl was thankful for you for many, many reasons.

“Hmm hm,” he replies. “I want ya to know I feel the same, too.” Daryl wipes your tears away.