Warnings: mature sexual content
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. I don't get any money for this.
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He's calm - just like the forest around us. His movements are precisely accurate. He doesn't make a single sound while searching for his pray. I'm a nuisance, but god knows why he still allows me to come with him. His face is filthy, so is his body, soaked with sweat, blood and gore, but I don't care - I kind of like this view, a silent statement to the circumstances we're forced to live with.
In this world nothing matters anymore. Not who you are, not what you do, eventually we all will die for sure.
There is the deer! The shot is immediately and clear.
I'm just about to run over, want to help carrying it. But he turns around and points the crossbow directly into my face. "Down." I'm startled, I' dont even understand, but my body is faster than my brain - always obliging, him.
The walker, only inches behind me, falls down pierced with an arrow in his forehead, just inches besides me - and there, he saved my life, again.
There is only this burning desire - to be even remotely equal, at least allowing myself to compete silently with him. I try my best to make myself useful, I'm the one running to the city, every week - searching for supplies. And since I'm perfectly aware that I never will be as good in hunting as Daryl, I learn how to fix cars, maybe even daring to hope that he will once notice.
Meanwhile he goes into the forest, while no one cares where he remains, when he disappears or if he comes back. No one but I.
Still, I will remain a no one for him, he has a brother and besides himself, that's the only one worth caring about. But I? I don't have anyone, no family, no friends, even this group treats me like an empty space, although what will they do without me meanwhile?
His knife digs into the flesh of the dead rabbit, the blood drops to the ground beside the fireplace with each strong stroke. The light is dancing on his face, hides the bruises, the mud, the tiredness. Then his eyes shoot towards me, pierce trough my soul with this silent anger of his. He's angry about everything, about his destiny, about this world, or his role and place in it, just like his brother he is indeed angry - just never allowing himself to show it, to let it out, ever ...
I shift, feeling uncomfortably catched with my staring. Trying to come up with some excuse and failing I just decide to go back in to my tent, even if I don't actually want to leave.
What I do not expect, is him following me.
I put myself from the provisory bed of mine, startled, somewhat even scared. What does he intent to do? We never talk much witch each other, so this can only mean a very bad thing. He stops in the entrance the moment I move. He stares right at me, his look is unpredictable, unreadable. Maybe he just tries to read trough me before beating the shit out of me.
I'm about to open my mouth, to say something I don't even know what about... But he just suddenly leaves and somehow I find myself regretting that he didn't do anything - even if I wouldn't have liked it after all.
In this night I can not sleep. Wondering, thoughts drifting into all possible directions, into directions which shock even myself.
His body, his movements, even his face - he's in control of everything. Just the exact opposite of myself.
I'm open for the world where he is sealed off. I smile, I laugh - every time he's arround me catching attention where I only can, not even knowing if I do this only for his. But sometimes I notice even him smiling and it feels like all this strugling is all worth it.
Once I decide to take the opportunity of his rare good moods and ask him to show me how to shoot. For good two long silent minutes - which followed this stupid question, I tremble like a school girl in front of her crush. Then he just stands up and walks over in to the forest. Not sure about what to do, if this was indeed a agreement, or if he's just pissed? I clinch my hands, blaming myself for trying anything, especially something as blunt as this - suddenly he turns around - "Ya comin? Extra invitation for the Chinaman..." I'm Korean, but oh well...
We're far enough away not to let anyone of the kids, or women to scare by reminding them why we're training. They still try to escape so desperately this harsh reality. But me and him, we both live already in it - that's the true difference which catches my attention so much. That's why we're still alive. That's maybe why he decided to agree after all.
His hands are hot, while he positions my fingers on to the right spots and places of the thick, solid wood.
"Shoot" - he whispers, right beside my ear. My body reacts to his words, like always, right before I can even think.
The recoil is unexpectedly hard and throws me a bit of my unstable position as I stumble back, right into him. "Sorry." I mumble, expecting him get be mad about my clumsiness, but he just smiles.
While my heart takes its leaps, pumping my blood faster - not even sure if it's from my own nervousness, or caused by the nearness to his body, or both. I focus with my whole mind not to shake all too obviously - just loading another arrow and shooting again. Tryomg to show that I can learn fast, that I'm a man, that I might be a usefull help.
Don't know why this obsession is overgrowing this bad? I convince myself that this os only for survival, that he's a good example how to do it right. Ignoring the dreams of his mouth on my skin, of his body pressing me down, of his hands working mercilessly on my junk.
Each single day it's harder to look him in the eyes. I don't want him to know. Don't want him to discover the perverted thoughts written all over my face, like the traces on the ground of the animals he's used to follow around.
There is no one in the camp I can speak about this. I really suck about keeping secrets to myself, so I try to be alone most of the time. Alone in the city, even if it's obviously dangerous. Still it seems better than to let something slip and him ending up beating me to the ground - and this not for some racial reasong or about me beeing stupid or fucking something up.
So I'm not really enthralled as one day - they all toggle along with me. Unsurprisingly everything ending in a complete disaster. But, the worst part is that we actually end up loosing his brother - even more worse, leaving him intentionally behind. I always was better by myself and now it will be become impossible to prove that I'm worth... worth of what actually? So I am one of the few who insist to go back again, even if this will require the help of those new guys. Not just to go back into the clear danger but even to trust unknown guys, all this just to find his brother.
Somehow I feel like it's my fault, without giving the situation even a second, or thirth, or hundredth - thought. Maybe it's just me, maybe he actually blames me the most. The moment he stuffles the torn hand from his brother into my backpack, is like a silent deponent. I would puke, not from disgust as everyone might assume, but the guilt.
I expect him to leave us behind, to search for his brother. Of all things it would destroy my quest of becoming like him, the one and only occupation which gave me purpouse. Suddenly, like chill to the bones I realize how lonely I actually am. To my surprise and worst kind of relief, he doesn't.
He's a puzzle, a mystery which never gives anything away. Escpecially the moment his brother is gone, he somehow starts to change - even if it's just a small bit, I can actually feel it. Compared to the violent, loud, overconfident brother, entowering him always like a shadow, he finally seems to getting some air, just like a dog which was chained to his own limits
There is this moment, when I feel his look on me. I'm too busy to get out of my own shirt to verify it - the women want to wash all the clothes in the camp. As soon as I'm free, my naked body shivers in the wind - which is not actually cold but still manages to give one the feel of vulnerability - specially in this world of the walking corpses only waiting to get a bit.
My eyes fly to the spot where he sits, just to discover that he's busy cleaning his arrows, not at all watching me - maybe everything is just my own wishfull thinking. I always know where he is, even if I try now not to observe him so openly.
We're once again in town, but for the very first time he joins us. My chance for me to shine in my own element of usefullness - and finally, he actually speaks with me after such a long time - "What did ya do before all of this kid?"
I couldn't be prouder - knowing what this simple sentence means. Isn't this the acknowledgement I was all the time aiming for? But instead of boasting, I just smile - "Delivering Pizza, why?" There is nothing in the world, which could repay me the next look of his.
Too bad everything get's destroyed as soon as some random guys show up to grab me, right two steps behind him. The worst part is, that there is nothing I can do about it - I don't want to get killed now, not now, when he finally noticed me!
"Daryl! DARYL! HELP!"
He's desperate to shoot right trough me - there again, is the anger of his - just this time - written all over his face. Somehow I wish he would pull the trigger, just to kill those bastards off, just to see them dead. For some reason they just wont let go off me. This is the moment I realize - that I would rather die by his hand, than risking never to see him again.
He doesn't shoot. Why not? There is usually no hesitation in anything about what he does. There are no regrets - not by him.
They drag me away.
And I? I just keep screaming his name.