𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥《 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯 》

s i x// S A F E A N D S O U N D

The next day had barely arrived and it was already a mess.
Smith was shook awake by arguing. The peaceful sleep she had longed for days and days disturbed. 
She felt like a fool for admitting she had slept better knowing Daryl was there, that he was back, safe and sound. It was hard to deny the fact that she had barely closed her eyes for more than five, quick minutes after knowing he was gone.
It felt horrible, an invading, terrifying feeling. How could he just leave? The thoughts began creeping her mind. How she would never see him again. How she never got a chance to show him the real her. How she knew she could help him and now would never be able to. She just wanted him back. 
Late that night, she talked to herself, as if he was right there. "I'd trade anything to have you here. I'd trade everything we've accomplished just to have you here again. They need you here." "I'd rather have you hate me, despise me than never seeing your face again. I'd trade my life to have you back home. Back where you belong. Just... come back... be here."
She wanted to keep her distance from him, something she told herself to do ever since the fall, to stay away from him but it was like, somehow, he always managed to stand in her way. Not in a bad way, though. 
Even then, after he left the group behind, after he chose his brother over the group, over her, there she was. Troubled and conflicted. She wanted to stay away from him at all costs but at the same time couldn't get him out of her mind.

But, the sun shone again. It waited for no one. Time was unstoppable, it seemed to fly like a jet.
Smith sat up straight on the mattress, surprised by the sudden yelling.
Placing her bare feet on the concrete flooring and immediatly slipping her feet on the dark brown boots, Nova seemed to fly, just like time, down the stairs, in search for the nucleus of the problem.
It was the person she less wished to face. Daryl Dixon... and his brother.
The older brother wore his usual smirk while having that egocentric look painting his face as he side-eyed his younger brother.
Daryl, on the other hand, looked stressed. That was until he looked behind, sensing a presence. His blue eyes soften once his deep, infinite orbits met hers. His chest, that rose up and down rapidly just seconds before, fully relaxed as the diaphragm dilated, letting the oxygen exit his body softly.
And, as Smith was about to ask if there was a problem, Hershel Greene came behind the men, asking the same question she never had the chance to ask.
"Is everything okay with you boys?"
"Everything's fine." Daryl answered, his head lowered. 
Even in clear rage, the squirrels' man was able to do the unthinkable of just months ago. He took a deep breath and answered the elder man in a calm tone, the tone he normally used around the prison.
He wouldn't take his anger out on Hershel, he knew better than that. And, even though he thought no one would recognise that little victory, barely recognising it himself, Nova Smith obviously did.
She smiled within, secretly proud of him. He had come a long way and, sadly, didn't even recognise it either. 

It had almost passed a full year after the fall, back in late June. 11 months had gone by and Daryl Dixon had come a long, long way. 
Just being away from his brother made him shine a light he never knew he even possessed. 
Daryl had only ever had his brother, Merle as the role model. The only one to look up to. 
He knew he wasn't good, deep down. Daryl didn't know who he was as a person, as he never liked answering nor thinking too deeply about profound questions, but he knew enough to know he was not like his brother. 
But... what could he do? After a lifetime with the only family he had left, he couldn't simply shake him off like he was dust. Shitty or not, Merle Dixon was his brother. 
He loved him, of course. Even though he never said it, even though he never showed it. His relatives were never ones to share feelings. In fact, he had never said something like 'I love you'  out loud and had never heard anyone say it to him before. He didn't expect to, and told himself he didn't want to hear it, that he didn't need such an insignificant thing.
He stopped expecting it at around just six years of age. After getting beaten up for a third time. Not a slap, not just a heavy palm. He had been left crying on the ground for a third time at just six years old.
As he grew up, he starting getting the feeling that it wasn't normal. When he got invited over to a classmate's house, he was struck by how they behaved. So calmly, so peacefully, wearing smiles and throwing laughs around, not like in his home. Where instead of wearing smiles, they wore frowns and instead of throwing laughs, they threw stuff around... at the walls, at the ground, at each other...
His family wasn't normal. It wasn't even a family, just a bunch of strangers who got stuck together because of unprotected intercourse. Just like most families out there, expect, his had a lot of trauma and Innumerous and unhealthy habits, that, instead of getting solved, were passed onto the generations ahead.
Innocent, ingenue, lovelorn children got burned by the fire of their parents' past, becoming like them. And that's how cycles work. How they get endless, infinite and unstoppable.
Some were over with. They had no chance. No fixing.
Some others just searched for that fix.
In Daryl's case, he was one of the few that searched for the fix, the one who swore never to be like the people in his home. He did it unconsciously, but he searched for it nonetheless. 
He searched for something more, deep inside. He had been forced to shut down his own feelings and perfectly normal, valid emotions ever since a little child. So, putting on this force, this rough, 'don't mess with him' kind of man was nothing new new to him, but Daryl Dixon found that armour, that shield getting torn down, falling down to pieces more and more every day. And, the good thing was, he didn't mind it at all. Not one bit.