•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
'sometimes I'm terrified of my own heart, of it's constant hunger for whatever it wants. the way it stops and starts.' -edgar allen poe
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⤐
"You must be Zeppelin!"
The voice behind her caught her off guard, and she scrunched her nose at the sudden noise interrupting the quiet chirp of the morning birds. She turned to find an average built man with reddish brown hair and incredibly straight, white teeth holding a large hand out to shake hers.
She didn't return the gesture, simply looking at the hand as she adjusted the rifle on her shoulder. "Just Zepp," her tone warm but careful, she quickly appraised the man before her. He didn't seem to be a threat as far as she could tell, and she quirked a brow at his almost aggressive niceness. He was tall with wide shoulders, and his stubble peppered a strong jawline. She knew he was conventionally attractive, but had no interest.
"I'm Spencer Monroe," the man beamed, pushing through the awkwardness as he dropped the hand back to his side. "You guys heading out?" He dipped his chin towards the car idling near the gate. The early morning sunrise filtered down through the trees, bouncing in rays off the trunk where Daryl was slinging gallons of water.
"Yep," she replied, taking a step back towards the car. Monroe, she thought. Another one of Deanna's sons. Well, hopefully this one knows when to shut up.
"Got everything you need? I can get you some more ammo, supplies, whatever."
Apparently not.
He was clearly lingering, hoping to keep the conversation going, but she couldn't decipher the purpose. He took a step forward as she took another one back, and he breathed out a small laugh.
"Well, you three be careful out there and uh, let me know if I can help in any way." He bowed his head slightly, twisting on his heels and strolling away. He seemed nice enough, mentioned helping, but there was something off that she couldn't pinpoint.
She watched him walk away until he disappeared around the corner. As she broke her gaze from the street, she saw the woman Rick was with at the party stomping away from her house in a hurry. A tall, balding man ran out after her, screaming something incoherent. Her heart twisted, her vision blurring until she saw her mother and stepfather, screaming at each other in the street when she was a child.
The sound of the trunk slamming shut yanked her from her thoughts, and Daryl wiped his hands on the bandana in his pocket as he stalked up behind her.
"Sup with that guy," he grunted, his brows furrowing in the direction Spencer took off in.
Zepp shook her head slightly, shifting her weight and accidentally brushing her arm against his own. "Nothin'," she sighed. She was wildly aware of how close they were, of how the early morning mist settling on her skin did nothing to satiate the fire coursing through her veins. His proximity to her scrambled her brain, making words next to impossible to form.
