It was his fault, he knew. Deep down everything was.
But that didn't make it any easier for Daryl. No matter how much he told himself that it was better this way and that the other deserved better than a broken man. That after Daryl made his choice the only thing he had left was to suck it up and move on. He simply… couldn't, really. He loved him. He loved Paul—no, not Paul. Not anymore. Jesus.
Daryl had lost the right to call the man by his name long ago, when he broke his heart.
The name that used to be spoken in hushed whispers at night, in the middle of pleasure and utter worship. The name he was so hesitant to first use, so familiarized with Jesus even though after awhile it felt too impersonal and wrong given the intimacy of their relationship. The name that had quickly become his favorite word to say.
It now felt bitter in his tongue.
No, Daryl didn't have the right anymore. He was just Jesus to him now, the nickname that once Daryl teased him so much for, or Rovia; that is if Daryl speaks to him at all besides the usual grunts. And the worst is he couldn't even complain really.
Jesus wasn't the one to ruin everything, as much as Daryl's traitor mind would like to say so.
The man hadn't done anything other than be honest about how he felt, a thing Daryl himself had been too much of a coward to do. He had just tried to name what was happening between them for months.
As they had laid in bed together once more, breathless, the world drowned out as simple background noise like it tended to happen when they're with each other only to have their little bubble shattered from the inside as Jesus spoken up; his voice a mere whisper but it was loud enough to Daryl's ears. He hadn't noticed how his words affected him at first, Daryl could still remember the feeling of Jesus' smile on his chest moving as he spoke, but soon enough worry filled his words as Daryl's silence grew.
He hadn't expected Daryl to snap at him so badly, of course he hadn't. Paul—Jesus trusted him.
Though they had been secretive, the nights they had spent together, enjoying each other's presence and making love, hadn't been few. They had even said the word love out loud several times by then.
Well, Jesus had at least, spoken it like a mantra, but Daryl had said it in his own way too. With actions and grunts. By holding the man's cheeks while he looked into his eyes, by kissing his neck just right as Jesus utters the words he meant to say, by calling him an idiot.
Christ, and how he loved him.
That didn't stop him from freaking out at the mere mention of going official and public with their relationship, even more at the thought that their friends probably suspected it already.
Daryl remembers Jesus' face at the words he spit at him, angry and lost, going as far as flinching when the other attempted to touch Daryl to calm him down. The confusion, the hurt… the betrayal as Daryl shouted and repeated words once spoken at him by his father and brother; words that were scarred in his soul by their ignorance, embedded into him with the help of a belt and fists.
Words he had sworn to himself he had left behind in his past.
The man had left with no more words necessary, tears in his eyes that to this day Daryl wasn't sure if they were from the heartbreak or the fury. All they had build together destroyed with simple words, shattered into so many little pieces that all Daryl had left to do was to stare at the broken shards—at all the memories, the possible what-ifs—and regret. No chance of going back, of rebuilding their little world.
Maybe one day they'd go back to being friends, go past pretending to not ignore each other and acting like nothing ever happened between them. Maybe one day Daryl would grow a spine and apologize. But it'd be too late then.
It had already been too late from the moment Daryl opened his mouth.
Their friends, both at Alexandria and Hilltop, still don't understand the change of airs between them. They don't know do they, that Daryl ruined his only chance at having something normal, something that he'd never be able to have otherwise even before the world went mad, maybe even especially so. They don't know he ruined everything between them. Daryl refuses to say a word whenever asked about it, even to Rick and Carol, and he knows Jesus must do the same. He wouldn't betray Daryl's trust like that.
Even if Daryl had betrayed his.
Or maybe they do know. Maybe the group always knew, deep down, and the pity looks they send his way aren't baseless. Maybe Daryl had always been more obvious than he thought, maybe they knew exactly how it was all his fault just like with a lot of shit that had happened to them, to the people they all loved. And now he had let someone down in a different way but done it all the same. Hurt them all the same.
Unreliable. Monster. Trash. Worthless. Beyond help.
A freak.
Too broken to accept the only good thing that came in his way and too much of a pussy to do anything about it. Nothing but a coward, a tainted shadow of his family's prejudices and the cruelty of the world. A good for nothing piece of shit.
And now watching Jesus with someone else, happy and in love, not being anyone's dirty secret nor having to deal with someone with as much baggage as the dirty redneck, Daryl is assured that every time the man had told him he was a good man were nothing but empty words. Good men don't wish to take away the small happiness the person they love found, they don't have rushes of anger as they watch them together nor do they flinch at their laughter. Good men wouldn't break their loved one's heart in the first place.
No, he had been wrong, Daryl wasn't a good man and he didn't deserve Jesus' love and acceptance.
Good thing he no longer had it, then.