A/N: Set on the night after the group cleaned the prison yard from walkers. S3/E1.
Heavy words are hard to take. Under pressure precious things can break and how we feel is hard to fake so let's not give the game away.
Without Words
He marched in without apologies, eyeing the water contained in a plastic receptacle across the group surrounding the bonfire. The redneck dropped the pieces of wood he gathered, along with his crossbow, and with a grunt which escaped his throat. His fingers plunged in the water provided, and splashed it in his face whilst roughly tapping on his brows and cheeks. At last he pinched his chin with his fingertips, eventually removing the excess water from his skin though droplets still remained on the edges of his uncouth blonde hair. He was a few meters away from the others, who practically enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the night summer breeze. Though weary, tired, and on the brink of dying, such a simple gathering without gallant speeches or oven-baked food is enough to make this night a paradise. He secretly misses the farm; and yet his alter ego reminded him of his frustrated crusade for Sophia, eventually marring his wish to be back in that place now infested with the undead.
Daryl swore under his breath. It had been his habit of swearing for no reason. He ran his hand across his rough hair and cracked his neck. Now and then his eyes adopted the new habit of glancing. The flames seemed attractive, but he sought for another sight without the knowledge of it being aware of his every move.
The moment his eyes passed through them, Beth consciously averted her gaze from him towards the opposite direction as if lost in space. Right now she can feel a distinct heat crawling under her skin, knowing how the redneck had begun his search of her once more. It set her young mind in turmoil on how she could be able to control the discomfort she perceives whenever she catches his eye. Yet at the back of her mind she feels the same discomfort whenever he wasn't around, and both feelings irked her.
Beth sighed in disgust and freed her knees from her own embrace, and no one notices the way she tracts his moves, or the way he tries to win her attention. She stood as her mind had begun to swell with conflicts of her own interests. Dusting her pants, she began to walk unsteady steps to isolation. The light of the bonfire began to fade from her feet as she puts distance from her 'family', to herself. She can still hear their conversations, though not vivid, but enough to keep her thinking that they were close. Her fault had been on not hearing the footsteps which followed her trail.
She looked once more at her people telling stories, and finally tucked herself behind the wall of one of the towers which kept her completely concealed from anyone, even from the few walkers lurking across the fence. Beth embraced herself, tightened her brown knitted jacket and inhaled as if she was out of breath. She could have completed a series of meditation, if not only with the cracked twig which set her concentration astray.
Daryl watched her eyes widen, and she slowly pursed her lips as she took him in sight. His face was apathetic, and she can see the sheen perspiration covering his chest which was revealed on the torn collar of his black sleeveless shirt. She thought he needed shaving, and a nice haircut with a real comb would lessen his ragged look.
He wanted to greet, wanted to say something nice at least, but suddenly his jaw had locked itself. He searched for words, and tried hard to open his mouth but instead clicked his tongue in fucked up disappointment. He chewed on his tongue before stepping closer to her, and even before he could stop himself, his fingers had already coiled on her bright hair. He let the strands go, and strode his palm slowly across her right cheek. Beth lowered her lashes as her eyes followed the trail his hand made, and she imitated him. Daryl stepped back, though, when her hand rested above his heart and he never wanted her to feel his thundering pulses. He never wanted her to know that she was one who could weaken his knees and not the damned flesh-eaters. She looked at him in amazement, and even before he could utter his first word, she immediately stopped his lips from parting.
"Don't." Beth whispered in a faint smile and slowly let him go. "I don't need to hear it."
"A'least you should know."
She swallowed and tucked her hands across her chest, eventually pulling her eyes away from his. She didn't need his words in the same husky voice which chilled and secured her at the same time. She didn't need his words to know what he illegally feels for her. They would be enough to melt the principles implanted in her, the righteous principles which her daddy taught, which the church taught, and which everyone had expected of her. He is everything she didn't want to end up with, but right then his words were enough to cancel her ideals and rob everything off her.
She stepped back, realizing the mistake of her seclusion and began to walk towards the group with a last thought she voiced.
"I already do."
Please don't say you love me coz I might not say it back. Doesn't mean my heart stops skipping when you look at me like that. There's no need to worry when you see just what we're at, just please don't say you love me coz I might not say it back.
~Please don't say you love me, Gabrielle Aplin
A/N: My first WD fic. The couple I strangely ship. I recommend you listen to the song. :)
reviews are love xx
