"Know what I miss?" I asked no one in particular. "The smell of candles after you blow them out." Daryl frowned slightly.
"All the things ya ain't likely ta have again, and you choose candles?" he asked almost mockingly.
"Yep. It always made me think of my mother. She loved candles: had tons of them all over the house. She'd let me light them when I was little and Dad would follow us, blowing them each out as soon as we'd turned our back, so the whole house smelled like that smoke and we'd have to go back to relight each one." He scoffed slightly.
"Most people'd say it reminded 'em of birthdays, or some shit." I laughed softly.
"It does." I replied, "But I remember my folks, more. Mom would pretend to be so angry. I couldn't stop laughing." A warm smile tugged at my lips, trying to pretend, if only for a moment, they weren't dead. "What about you?"
"Huh?" he grunted, only briefly looking up from the bolt he was cleaning.
"What do you miss?" He blew sharply over the arrowhead before returning the cloth to it.
"Steak." He stated, almost without pause, instantly earning a choked laugh from me. He sent a glare my way. "Shut up, woman."
"C'mere." Daryl said quietly before walking away. The others pretended not to notice as I followed him uncertainly out of the main room.
"What is it?" I asked, brows furrowed.
"How 'bout ya quit askin' questions for a damn minute?" he almost snapped, yet there was a hint of embarrassment in his words. Tilting my head slightly, I bit my lips as he opened the door to one of the last rooms at the end of the hall. Without meeting my eyes, he motioned for me to go in. Looking into the nearly pitch black room, I couldn't help but pause, heart suddenly racing. But I couldn't doubt him; not Daryl. So, I tentatively stepped through the doorway. He closed it behind him, shrouding us in darkness.
"Daryl…" I could have cringed at the how nervous I sounded. Something shuffled slightly behind me just before a match burst into flame, illuminating no more than his face in the small, flickering circle of light. Without a word, he met my eyes and, taking my hand, placed the long match in my fingers before pointing back towards the door. And I gasped.
The sheen of glasses bounced the weak flame marvelously around us. Candles. My breath caught in my throat as I spun about the room, remarking on the sheer number of them. There must have been at least two dozen.
"You ganna light 'em, or not?" He reprimanded. "Only got a few matches." His voice instantly softened, as though trying to recant for the harshness. With an almost sobbed laugh, I touched the flame to the wicks, silently making my way around the room until it seemed a hundred tiny lights danced around us.
"One more." He almost whispered, holding a sage green candle up. Without looking away from those steel blue eyes, I set the final candle on fire before the match died. Watching me carefully, he let the wick burn for several seconds before sending a quick huff towards it, snuffing the barely lit flame. The instant the light faded, the instant that scent washed over me, my lips found his.
Just a scene for a TWD fanfiction I've been playing with. So far, it's really only hand written in a comp book. Grant it, it's over one hundred pages in that thing, yet I'm still a good ways from this cute thing. I just wanted to share this. Let me know if you guys are interested in more!