Norman Reedus Imagines

Fragment (1) (Daryl)

"Has he been like this all day?" Beth asked, leaning over and whispering into my ear. Nodding slowly, she backed up and peeked around the cell door to see him on his cot with his head in his hands. "Poor Daryl."

All of a sudden his head snapped up and he looked directly at us. We tried to scatter so he wouldn't see, but it was too late. With a quick burst of adrenaline he was out the door, hastily walking past Beth and I. He didn't look back, and he didn't make any comments. His whole attitude changed, and not necessarily for the better.

Resting my head on the wall behind me, I looked up and studied the concrete ceiling, seeing every flaw and dent in its' surface.

"I think you should talk to him." She said, speaking up.

"Why me? He's not really the type to open up about his feelings."

"Because you know him more than anybody else here. You're practically the only one he does talk to." My eyes left her and zeroed in on the doors Daryl stormed through seconds ago.

I took a deep breath and slowly nodded. "Fine, okay. I'll do it." She cracked a smile and touched the edge of my wrist, wishing me good luck.

Every voice in my head was telling me it was a bad idea, almost as if I was defusing a bomb. Yet everything else told me to go. So with one act of impulse I pushed through the doors and found myself in the middle of the hallways, putting me as the mouse in a maze setting.

Following my gut, I turned down random hallways, scanning the walls and their markings along with stains that would help me get back to the cell block.

Just before I barreled down another, the loud sound of metal hitting concrete brought me to an immediate stop. Walking slowly towards the corner, the sound continued to bounce off the walls. I quietly looked around the wall to see Daryl frequently stabbing his knife into the floor. He looked lost in thought, probably thinking about everything that just went on not even a day ago.

Just then the blows to the ground got harder and harder, the tip of the blade surely becoming rough and chipped. Delivering one last powerful swing, he drove the knife backwards against the wall behind him and stood up, walking in my direction.

Before I could make any sudden movements, he caught sight of me and jumped a little. His reflexes instantly reaching for his knife which wasn't there.

"What do you want from me? Huh? Quit bein so damn nosey!" He shouted, avoiding every chance he got at making even the slightest form of eye contact. My eyes tried to pry back the outer shell that kept everyone out, but he refused to let me in.

"I'm worried about you, we all are."

"Well aren't y'all sweet." His words laced with venom as he carefully said each word so he knew I would hear it. Just as he turned to walk away I found myself speaking words I didn't know I had to say.

"I know what happened, with Merle." He stopped but kept his back turned. "It sucks losing people, everyone has. I know you two were close-"

"We weren't."

"Yes, you were. You can deny it all you want, call him names, curse him out, but Daryl that's not gonna bring him back." His entire body was still, it was even difficult to tell when he would let out a breath. "You gotta let yourself feel it."

"Ain't got nothin to feel." He said and turned back around to face me. Standing a couple feet away, I decided to close the space a little by gradually taking steps to him.

"Don't keep hinding it. You don't have to act like some tough guy who can't feel anything." Eventually I reached the other side and was met face to face with Daryl. His bright blue eyes longed to have that release, the sense of letting go. "I know you Daryl Dixon, whether you believe it or not." He finally made eye contact and didn't move once he locked eyes with me. "You don't know when it'll happen, but it will." I said, leaning in and wrapping my arms around him. "And when it does I'll be here for you, just like you were there for me."

Suddenly I felt his hands grip the back of my shirt lightly but tight enough to hold the fabric. He blinked back the tears as his eyes got watery. Stifling back the small sobs he let out but quickly choked them back, he took several deep breaths until his emotions got the better of him.

Backing up, he hit the wall and slid down the cool concrete barrier until he sat on the floor with his head in his hands. His fingers gripping his hair as the tears started to flow. Scooting to the side, I sat next to him and watched him finally start to feel. His body slightly convulsed due to the extremities of the damage that he had been holding in all these years.

Placing hands on him to help calm him down, he took deep breaths until he could control himself once again. His hands were shaking, the fear and grief starting setting in. In an instant my hands reached to his and held them for the remainder of time we sat against the wall.

I knew he wouldn't break down in front of anyone, kind of surprising he did in front of me. For all his life he's had to put up a brave front and push everything to the side. He was finally letting go.

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Just something to post

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