A/N: So this is my first attempt at a longer chaptered fic and I'm a bit nervous! It's a bit out of my comfort zone. I don't know how long it'll be, I'm still working that out. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!
This story starts off in early Spring, 1997.
Waking in the morning was nice for a couple of seconds. In his post-sleep haze, Daryl forgot all about the happenings of last night and the pain in his right thigh was nonexistent until he stupidly decided to stretch out his limbs. It shot through him and his entire body seized, foggy memories slowly seeping back into his head. Merle was always the source of chaos in his life but last night was a new low.
Daryl inspected the half-assed bandaged wrapped around his leg, noting that he had started to bleed through it. He wasn't about to take himself to the hospital last night, knowing full well he'd have to explain the entire series of events or else come up with some elaborate lie on how he was stabbed in the thigh (with something that wasn't any kind of conventional knife). The wound was small and round, thankfully not too deep, but he had no idea what the weapon had been; there were too many people and too much noise for him to have caught it or the culprit. All he could recall was a shooting pain coursing through his leg and then Merle "accidentally" stomping on his hand. That was bruised too.
He managed to shuffle to the bathroom, doing his best to not favor his good leg but dammit, the limp was inevitable. He didn't have time for this, not now. Tomorrow was the start of his new job, remodeling a staircase for some couple downtown, and he couldn't show up all battered and hobbling like a gimp.
A hot shower helped with his mood some but when he staggered out to the living room and caught sight of Merle sprawled out on the couch, all scrapes and shiners, it took a turn south. His reaction must have been obvious.
"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," the elder Dixon crowed, still managing a grin with his split lip. "Wouldja look at that, you actually look like a man. Not so pansy-assed all cut up."
Daryl didn't warrant his brother with a response, choosing to hop his way past him into the kitchen. Silence never stopped Merle, though.
"You ready to finish what we started last night?"
"What we started? You mean what you started. I bailed your stupid ass outta trouble. Should be thankin' me," Daryl finally bit back. He wasn't in the mood for his brother's taunting this morning. If it weren't so awful of him, he would wish Merle would disappear for a week or so on some bender, just so he could have some peace.
"Good to know you still haven't found your balls yet, baby brother," Merle cracked. "Now what's on the menu for breakfast?"
Being alone was one of Daryl's favorite things. He usually got a lot of time by his lonesome, working by himself most of the time, and getting the apartment to himself when Merle was out sticking his nose where he shouldn't have been. But sometimes Daryl needed even more, and that's why the library was one of his favorite places.
He knew most people wouldn't peg him as the reading type and that was fine, he liked when people were wrong about him. At least in instances like that. And he knew that it probably wasn't the first place someone would come looking for him if they were trying to hunt him down. So he really could just be alone.
With the morning paper in hand, Daryl claimed a table along the back wall. There were lots of folks there today, mostly college kids and the sort, he figured. It didn't bother him none though, as long as he was able to get lost in his own world.
He'd only just opened to the second page when his attention was captured by someone clearing their throat.
"Mind if I join ya?" a younger blonde girl inquired, her smile carrying all the way to her eyes. Looking around, he noted that all the tables were full except for the empty seat across from him. Daryl simply grunted in reply and gave a shrug, turning his focus back to the paper. "Didn't expect so many people here today but I guess everyone's crammin' for midterms."
He didn't bother with any kind of guttural noise that time, It didn't matter though because her scooting about in her chair and constant rifling through her bag was distracting enough for Daryl; he could feel his eyes drifting from the newsprint with every movement she made. It grew irritating, steadily.
He couldn't focus on reading so he settled on subtly observing her; he assumed she was a local student by her youthful face and short floral dress. She had no textbooks though, just plain cover journal that she gingerly opened and began scrawling in. His stealthy examining must have slipped though and he looked away just in time to avoid eye contact.
"Sometimes it just seems like the whole world's about to end, doesn't it?" Her voice was lighthearted, as if she was making some sort of joke. But Daryl didn't take it as such. The words resonated in his ears and he could hear the blood pumping through them.
Not being accustomed to small talk from strangers, he shot her a strange look before turning his eyes back down to the paper in his hands. He knew she was probably commenting on the giant headline, some UFO cult committing mass suicide, but he didn't know why she was bothering him. Weren't libraries supposed to be a quiet place?
The girl must have not taken the hint, ignoring her writing completely as she squinted at the newspaper in his hand. He could tell she was attempting to read the story, her lips moving to silently form words.
"You can buy a damn paper outside," he all but growled and it had the desired effect. The girl recoiled back into her chair, wide eyed and parted lips. Daryl might have thought her pretty had she not been such a pest.
"Sorry," she mumbled, pink creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She went straight back to writing, keeping her head down, nose merely inches from the paper.
With a sigh, Daryl turned back to the story he was in the middle of, only to find himself lacking the desire to continue with it. Damn people always had to kill every nice moment he found.
Exaggerating to convey his annoyance, he pushed himself up from the table and stomped down a nearby aisle, not knowing what he was looking for. His eyes scanned books spines but his brain didn't process what he was actually reading. It didn't matter anyway, he just wanted to lose himself in something, but all he kept hearing was Merle's taunting voice in his head.
'My my, so easily agitated by a little bitch, Darlina.'
The girl was still at the table when he finally found his way back; sheepishly, she peeked up at him but quickly went back to her scribbling when he scoffed at her. Taking his seat again, he realized what he had grabbed. A Danish-English dictionary.
Naturally she had noticed it too, being the intrusive headache she had been. Nothing was said, thankfully; she only bit back a smile with little success. But not wanting to give anyone else satisfaction today, Daryl flipped it open as casually as he could.
You're a fucking idiot, his brain screamed at him.
Minutes flew by and the girl was silent. Daryl managed to lose himself in the dictionary, attempting to string together insults he could hurl at Merle when the desire struck him. He was just about to look up 'donkey' and 'lover' when the blonde across from him scooted her chair back with an ear-piercing screech and wandered down one of the dozens of aisles. She left behind all her belongings and Daryl flipped to find the word 'stupid'. Who left all their things alone with some stranger in a public place? She must've thought he could care less about her crap and while that probably would have been the case, now he had grown curious.
With sudden boldness, Daryl tossed the dictionary to the side and reached for her journal, flipping it open to the page marked by her pen. He was half expecting something like MRS. JOE SMITH written over and over with little stupid hearts and rainbows, but what he found was very different. Her handwriting with neat and small, as if every word was meticulously considered.
It's easy to be someone worthwhile in the light of day, for everyone to see; but who we truly are delves deeper than that. Who are you in the dark? Who are you when nobody is around to see or judge or remember? Everyone can lie and spew off how good and true they'd be, and that's fine, if it helps them sleep better at night. But it's heartbreaking if we can't be really, truthfully honest with ourselves, even if no one is there to overhear. So I am honest and I know who I am in the dark, or at least who I can be. I do my best to be kind and brave but I know that deep down, I am undermined by guilt and helplessness. I expect myself to take care of others but so often I am at a loss. I do what I can, I try my best, but giving effort is not always enough. And that's on me.
Running his fingers over the edges of the paper, Daryl forced himself to tear his eyes from the page. It wasn't his business reading this thing but if he was tactless enough to read the girl's private most thoughts in the day than he must be awful enough to do so in the dark.
Merle once again popped into his head, all mockery and jabs.
It didn't take much twisting of his arm for Daryl to tuck the book under his arm and snake his way out of the library. Served her right, he attempted to reason with himself, because she had all but ruined his alone time.