FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Elegy

Chapter 67

It's the start of a new day, yet Bobby feels like everything is ending. He still can't comprehend that he's going to be a father, being around Fava more than ever before. Asking her how she feels every two minutes, doing everything for her and grabbing her water and food. Fava keeps telling him that she's okay, but he doesn't obey. He's been stuck on panic mode for nearly a month.

He wants to be the best father there is; his own father never being there for him. He still remembers how he never showed up to any of his birthdays. And when he blew out them tall candels on his birthday cake every single year, he wished for one thing and one thing only: that his dad showed up for his next birthday.

He never did.

However, this day is different. He tells himself that everything will be okay, Ember, the new girl who Daryl allowed to stay yet drove away Clementine and Kenny, being supportive of the pair. All the group is.

Bobby is on his own, watching the sun rise and hearing Tamiko and Kitney Spears running and play fighting in the background. He sits on the lawn, the grass dry, the weather hot and dissolving. Nobody else is up, just the way he likes it. Newly, he sometimes feels like he's the outcast of the group, keeping to himself like back in high school. Then other times he feels like he fits in perfectly.

But none the less, he likes getting time to himself, reflecting his choices and memories and what he would of done differently in his past situations: if he hadn't of bumped into a blonde girl with a messy bun, if his parents didn't die, if Brenda and her son's never took him in, if Kendra and Daryl never stumbled to the farm, if Bobby never helped Daryl get Kendra back and if he wasn't with Daryl when they got surrounded at the church. What would of happened? Would he be dead?

"Thought I'd find ya out 'ere, Bobby pin," the rough voice says, plopping down beside him and smoking his freshly lit smoke. "This a new routine?"

Bobby sighs, not bothering to look at Daryl and keeping his stare in front at the fences.

"Yes," he simply replies, "and I'd rather not be disturbed, Mister Dixon. It's the only time where I can truly be alone."

" A lot on your mind, huh?'

"Um... Yeah, yeah," Bobby says quietly, stretching out his dark legs. "What are you planning on doing today?"

Daryl blows out his smoke purposely on Bobby's face, him spluttering and coughing in annoyance.

"Diggin' your grave."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, sir," Bobby sarcastically notes, Kitney Spears now rubbing up against his back. She's hungry.

"Lance wants us to plant more fruit an' vegetables," Daryl says after awhile, answering Bobby's past question properly.

"That's stupid," Bobby states honestly, stroking the cat's white head. "Instead, we should prepare ourselves for whatever is out there. That stalker could come back at any time."

"Ya hit your head?" Daryl asks.

"No. Why?"

"You're usin' it for once."

"If you came here to only insult and annoy me, then please go away. You do this every morning."

Daryl can tell that he's being serious, worry plastered on his face like thick foundation.

"Wanna try?" Daryl offers, holding out the burning cigarette for Bobby to take it. "Might calm your nerves a bit."

Bobby's face curls up in disgust, just looking at the cigarette. He takes it anyway, snatching it from Daryl's fingers and taking a huge drag. The smoke enters his body, immediately coughing it out and almost vomiting.