𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

66 | THE DAY AFTER

The candle flickered in the corner, its tiny flame producing an almost silent crackling sound. He never cared for such luxuries, but as he took a deep breath in through his nose, the floral scent was a welcomed contrast to his days breathing in the smells of the woods. Even the clearings filled with daisy and bluebell weeds carried an underlay of death. But he was safe from that in this room, and he committed the sweetness of that candle to memory, associating it with the woman who stood before him.

He couldn't take his eyes off the soft crease between her brows. Her eyes were squinted slightly as she focused, and the whirring lamp beside her made her face glow a dim gold, a colour like the last few minutes of a sunset. Though, he wasn't sure he could really compare the two. Daryl had never felt the need to admire the beauty of a sunset before.

The beauty of the woman he loved, however...

Well, he could be bleeding out, clinging to life, and he still wouldn't take his eyes away from that face.

Her hand was steady as she lightly dabbed the antiseptic onto a small cut on his arm. Each touch of the cold cotton pad sent a stinging stab through the wound, his muscles reacting without control, causing him to flinch.

"Sorry," Tori said softly, keeping her head down as she cleaned the blood away.

The corners of his lips twitched upward fondly. Whilst his injured arm was stretched out for her to patch up, his free hand slowly reached for her hip. His grip was light as his fingertips played with the hem of her t-shirt, lightly stroking the warm skin of her side.

He felt the goosebumps beginning to rise wherever he touched, and he knew she was biting back a smile when she scolded him, "Stop it."

"I missed you," he whispered. He shook his head when the ends of his dark and unwashed hair tickled his forehead. He was tired, it was clear in his raspy tone. The time since he'd driven out of the town had not been the easiest. Since waking up the morning he left, he hadn't slept.

"I missed you too," Tori sighed.

She gave into him slightly, her hands pausing as she looked up to meet his eyes. Their faces were close, mere inches apart, as if a magnet were pulling them together. The chaos of the past two days was softened just by looking into his eyes, finding a sense of security, a safe space nobody else could ever give her. She could have spent forever in that space. If she did, she couldn't imagine ever being scared, ever feeling pain, ever again.

One of her hands reached down for his, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, and taking his hand off her side. "Now, sit still, and let me finish this."

He bit the inside of his cheek, the ghost of a smile threatening his face. "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you," she smiled lightly as she got back to the job in hand.

As she ducked her head again, strands of her hair fell out from behind her ear. Daryl couldn't resist reaching up to play with it, gently twisting it around his fingers. His eyes followed the braid that draped over the front of her right shoulder, the ends brushing the top of her thigh. "I swear this gets longer every time I look at ya."

"I know," she chuckled, reaching for the butterfly tapes she'd set aside. "Who knows, maybe I'll decide lop it all off one day."

"Don't you dare," Daryl quickly said, raising an eyebrow as he smiled softly. "I like it."

Tori's nose scrunched as she giggled, applying the last tape to his cut. "I do too. Hasn't been cut since I was fifteen."

"Why?" he asked softly. He reached for the cleansing wipes on the side, holding Tori's hand as he cleaned the dried flecks of walker blood from her fingers and palm.