"You a vampire, or what?!"
Paul turned when he heard the creak of his bedroom's door but he barely had a second to react because Daryl entered the room like a whirlwind. The archer stopped in the middle of the room, pointing to the red mark on his neck, though his apparent anger didn't stop the scout from laughing.
"And he laughs…"
"I'm sorry, I let myself get carried away in the moment."
"Ya know the shit I'm gonna have to put up with for this?"
"You can always say that you ran into a door or something," Paul said, laughing.
Daryl snorted, stepping forward ready to approach the desk where Paul sat at that moment but his eyes fell on the impeccably made bed. The scout sighed, bowing his head, aware of what was to come next.
"Either you're a neat freak—somethin' that wouldn't surprise me livin' in this house, or you haven't slept at all… hope it's the first thing."
Paul dropped his shoulders as the only answer.
"Fuckin' hell, Paul…"
"I know, Daryl, damn it! Do you think I wouldn't sleep if I could? But I can't, my brain doesn't stop working and I can't rest. I close my eyes but I can't stop thinking about the war, about Hilltop, Alexandria, The Kingdom—and how we're going to organize, how we're going to act, how—"
"Okay, okay, stop," the archer interrupted, approaching and sitting in front of him. "Paul, shit, you have to understand that this ain't jus' your thing, we're in this together—so stop puttin' all that damn pressure on yourself."
"I wish I could…"
"Of course you can, let us help you—let me help you."
Paul looked at the archer, "unless you let another truck hit me in the head, I don't think you can do much about it."
"I could get you some Whiskey, too."
They both laughed.
"I think you enjoyed hearing me whine more than you should've."
"Ain't gonna lie…"
Paul thought for a few seconds, then took some air, "I can't promise anything but I'll try, okay?—now, let's forget about me… what about you, did you sleep well?" He asked not bothering to hide the wide, satisfied smile that appeared on his lips.
Daryl looked down, blushing profusely, though he laughed, shaking his head from side to side.
"Cocky asshole…"
Paul laughed loudly, shrugging his shoulders, "what can I do, I'm good at it—the massage thing, I mean."
"Sure—well, jus' so you know, it wasn't bad, but I could've slept better."
The scout made a sound with his mouth and cocked an eyebrow, "How dare you lie to my face?"
"Jus' sayin' for your own good—maybe you need to practice a bit more."
"You wish…"
The two men laughed but Daryl's expression turned serious immediately. The archer lowered his head, fixing his eyes on his hands, fingers intertwined nervously, while his cheeks turned a deep red.
"Seriously, I—I—yesterday—uhm…"
Paul smiled, moving his chair a few inches closer to him, and then took his restless hands in his.
"It's okay, you don't have to say anything but, and just so you know, I also enjoyed it."
Daryl couldn't help but blush even more. Paul cupped his face with his hands and leaned forward to give him a kiss but the bell's high-pitched toll bounced off the walls of the room like a long roll of thunder, before their lips could even brush.
"Can't we jus' have a normal day for once?" the archer grunted.
Paul stood up in alarm, Daryl followed him and the two ran out of the room hurrying toward the house's main terrace. From there they could see the colony already paralyzed, awaiting with concern the next warning of the bell. Behind the walls and the big trucks, they saw the cloud of dust left by the car that approached Hilltop disturbing their longing for tranquility.
Kal was speaking to whoever was their visitor, and when the brief conversation ended, the guard hit the bell again, just once.
Paul breathed a sigh of relief even if he couldn't shake off all the tension. Both, he and Daryl returned to the house and then went outside approaching the gates. Maggie was already at the foot of the stairs leading to the watch point, while Rick, Michonne, Tara and Aaron waited not far from there.
When they arrived, Kal was coming down.
"I just hit the bell once," he said visibly irritated, "but I could've been mistaken—it's Gregory."
"Why are they here?" Gregory asked, pointing out the audience he clearly considered excessive, and not very welcome.
After letting him back into the community he had vilely abandoned and in a car that wasn't the same one he he'd taken in the first place, they went to the house and locked themselves in his old office. Paul was not the only one accompanying him; there were also Maggie, Daryl, Rick and Michonne, whose presence doubtlessly irritated the gray-haired man.
"They're our guests," the scout replied.
"The last time you brought them in as guests, they emptied our pantry and since then we've had nothing but trouble. And anyway, that doesn't explain why are they here, in this office, when this matter should only concern the members of this community which, if I'm not mistaken, would only include yourself and me."
"What's going on with the saviors affects us all, Gregory. They've come to help this community to rise again, while you turned your back on us."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," the man snapped, "but it doesn't surprise me, you're so obsessed with them that you can't seem to see what's happening right under your nose, let alone accept that this situation is, to a great extent, your fault, too."
Paul took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It wasn't that Gregory's words affected him; he knew that the man just wanted to drive him up the wall. It was mostly a diversion from his own irresponsibility, but still, he couldn't look past the fact that, though the accusations came from that faint-hearted fucker, there was a certain truth in them.
"You need to start to understand that we're not the enemy," Rick said, his voice low.
"From my point of view, you're not friends either," Gregory replied defiantly.
"Why don't y'all leave me alone with him, huh?" Daryl spat, "won't take me long to make him talk."
"Daryl…" Maggie warned.
"What? He betrays his people first, then leaves like a fuckin' coward when things get ugly, and now he accuses others of bein' the cause of all this mess. He's a fuckin' liar—where didja go? Huh?!" the archer exclaimed, taking a step forward.
Paul stopped him before he could move any closer.
"See!" Gregory said, "and you expect me to trust them? They're like savages! I'm not saying anything until they leave this office."
The silence was made in the room. All eyes fell on the scout, expectant. It was obvious that Rick and his people wouldn't hesitate to get up from their seats and leave the office if he asked them.
Paul took a deep breath, "They aren't going anywhere," he replied calmly.
Gregory made a disgusted sound and stood up, "Okay, there's nothing more to talk about, then. If you'll excuse me, I am going to my room, I'm pretty tired."
"Your room isn't your room anymore," Paul said before the man could leave the office.
"What?"
"Claire and her family are staying there now. She's going to have her baby in a couple of months—they need a quiet, comfortable place."
Gregory let out a sarcastic laugh, "What is this? What are you trying to tell me? Are you going to throw me out? Is that it?"
"No, of course not, Gregory, we're not like that, Hilltop's never been like that—we'll assign you a new room, it's just that it may not be as large and bright as the one you occupied before."
The gray-haired man stepped forward, facing the scout. Paul saw out of the corner of his eye that Daryl moved beside him, but he shot the archer a glance to warn him against doing anything stupid.
"Are you the one in charge of the community now?" The man asked hoarsely.
"No, I just try to help, as I've always done."
"Who's in charge then?"
"We haven't decided yet."
"Are you telling me that this boat is drifting and none's at the helm?"
"I didn't say that. The community's working perfectly, we just haven't had time to iron out the details."
"And what the hell are you waiting for? They need a boss."
"No, they don't need a boss, what they need is someone they can trust and rely on—and frankly I don't think you're that person."
Gregory threw his head back, grimacing in disgust.
"Have you asked them or did you draw that conclusion by yourself?"
Paul shrugged in response.
"That's what I thought, the good old Jesus, always so willing to help and showing his best face, while he goes around working his tricks in the shadows. You always wanted to get me out of the way but I'm not going to give up so easily, I don't care if you have all these bodyguards here with you, let's go out and ask those people, let Hilltop decide who they want running this colony."
Paul looked to Rick, Maggie, and Michonne, who were silent, but the firm expression in their faces showed that they would come out in his favor whatever he said. Then he set his eyes on Daryl, who seemed to be ready to tear into Gregory's throat at any moment.
"Okay," the scout said, "that's fair, let Hilltop decide; we'll hold a council this afternoon."
"Perfect," the gray-haired man replied, "now, if it's not too much ask, I'd like to know where my new room is."
By mid-afternoon, the murmur amongst the neighbors was all that could be heard in Barrington House's library. After announcing the council, everyone had gathered there to discuss the future of the colony. Paul had exposed the problem of maintaining the current situation for much longer. They needed to establish an administration to optimize the workflow of the colony and they had to do it as soon as possible.
"We're going to have to vote, it has to be a consensual decision," the scout said.
In the back of the room, away from the crowd, were the members of Alexandria, patiently watching what was happening there.
"How are we going to vote if there are no candidates? We can't vote for each other, that's crazy!" someone commented.
"I know, that's why—"
"I present myself as a candidate," Gregory interrupted, rising from his chair and walking to where Paul was standing in front of all of them. "I know a lot has happened lately, and even if you don't believe it, running a colony like this, is not easy. There are people out there who wouldn't hesitate a second to cut my head off—you know that but still, I owe you, and so I volunteer myself once again for this position."
Paul rolled his eyes and sighed, irritated, in that moment he just wanted to raise his voice, and tell Gregory to fuck off but even before he could say anything again, Brianna rose from her seat in the middle of the room.
"Are we allowed to make suggestions?" the woman asked.
"That's what we're here for," Paul replied.
"Okay," she said, straightening her back, as if she wanted everyone to hear her clearly, "I think that during these past months we've seen who has gone out of their way for this community's welfare and who hasn't. Jesus has always been here for us all and has always come to our defense even in the most critical and complicated situations—but not only that, in recent weeks we've seen another person's tremendous generosity, someone who has been devoted to this colony from the very moment she was able to put a foot out of bed. Someone who has collaborated, helped and suggested things with the sole purpose of seeing Hilltop thrive and grow, without expecting anything in return—that person is Maggie. I propose her as a candidate."
There was a rumble in the room as soon as Brianna sat down again. Then Amelia rose from her chair.
"I also vote for Maggie."
"Me too," Harlan said.
"I also vote for Maggie," Alex added, sat at the end of the room, near the door.
"Yes, I also think she would be a good candidate," Earl said.
And so, a few more voices rose in favor of Brianna's proposal.
Startled, Paul looked up at Maggie. Her expression faltered between amazement and shock.
"All right, let's hear what she has to say," the scout said, waving his hand toward her.
Maggie moved with reluctance, all eyes on her. Paul gave her a warm, reassuring smile, and held out a hand when she was close enough. She took it gratefully.
"You decide," he said in a whisper, "but don't feel forced, okay?"
"Whatever I decide… are you going to be by my side?"
"Always."
Maggie smiled nervously and then turned to look at all the people waiting for an answer. It was obvious that the woman felt that everything was happening too fast but it was almost impossible to ignore the expressions on their faces, all reflections of hope and optimism.
"Okay," she said after a moment, "yes, I'll do it. I'll present myself as a candidate."
The crowd exploded into an enthusiastic roar, while Gregory shook his head from side to side in disbelief.
After the library emptied, they devoted much of what was left of the afternoon and evening to prepare all they needed for the voting that was going to take place the next day. They made a list of all the inhabitants of the community who were over eighteen, and prepared the same number of blank papers in which they would only have to write down the name of the candidate of their choice, and put it into a box.
The following day went by normally, the reconstruction work continued despite the voting process, and while some people were devoted to their tasks, others took their breaks to deposit their ballots in the cardboard box that was well-guarded in the library.
"Are you nervous?" Paul asked Maggie as he went to the kitchen to see if the meal was going to be ready in time.
"I would be lying if I said no. Actually, there's a part of me that doesn't want to be elected, but then I imagine Gregory in charge of this place again…"
"I've seen him talking to some people. I guess he's trying to win their sympathy again, along with some votes, but I'm positive."
With the fall of the sun and with all the ballots in, the time came to count the votes. The library was crowded and expectant, while Tammy—who had been randomly chosen for the task—took out the papers, reading the content aloud.
Maggie was not in the room; she had decided to wait until the final result was known. Paul, however, was inside, by one of the windows, arms folded to keep his hands from his mouth. He was nervous and restless; the votes were closer than he would have expected. In fact, there were two occasions when Gregory had managed to get ahead of Maggie, the second with a six-point lead. Luckily that changed quickly and Maggie got ahead again by a great margin.
"Can you jus' calm down?"
Paul winced at the sound of Daryl's voice, he hadn't felt or saw him approach. He had spent most of his time outside, alongside Maggie and the rest.
"I know it's impossible for Gregory to win with this difference, but I'm still nervous."
Neither of them looked away from Tammy as she pulled out the papers from the cardboard box.
"There's only one left," she announced after awhile. The flame-haired woman pulled out the paper and read it aloud, "Maggie!"
The room erupted into a shout of joy, and Paul let out the air he had held in his lungs. Daryl put an arm around him and pulled him close to give him a reassuring kiss on the head. Paul looked at him, surprised by the gesture—the archer seemed to have forgotten that practically the whole community was there, though he doubted anyone had noticed; all seemed too busy celebrating Maggie's victory.
Paul and Daryl went outside to join the rest, while Maggie was congratulated by men and women, until Gregory approached her.
"Congratulations, Natalie, I guess I have no choice but to accept my defeat."
"It's Hilltop's decision."
"Yeah, I guess—anyway, I wish you well; you'll learn for yourself that running a community is not an easy task."
Maggie didn't answer and Gregory fixed his disdainful eyes on Paul.
"I hope you're happy, your campaign has worked."
"What campaign?"
"Washing their brains to set them against me."
Paul shook his head, "they don't need anyone to brainwash them, Gregory—they're not blind."
After the endless wave of congratulations, they all gathered in The Exiles of Barrington House's trailer, set a couple of tables in between the kitchen and the hall, and crowded together to dine.
"Okay, okay…" Rick said, raising his glass in the air when they were about to finish the dinner, "I want to make a toast to someone very special, today—Maggie. I've never seen anyone, to whom life has thrown so many obstacles, rise again with the strength to stand up and fight back. With Michonne's permission…" he said jokingly bending over to lay his lips on the woman's cheek, "you are one of the strongest women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I hope you know that, you may have lost a part of your family but you have also won another. I think I can speak for all when I say that the miles between Hilltop and Alexandria are not enough to keep us apart, and that we'll always be with you. For Maggie!"
"For Maggie!" All responded.
"Come on, you're going to make me cry!" the woman said, pretending to wipe her cheeks, but the truth was that her eyes were full of tears. Then she lifted her glass in the air, just as Rick had done, "I also want to take the opportunity to toast to someone special tonight. Someone who might not have been part of this particular family for very long, but who has shaken in our lives like an earthquake, and I think I can say, without any fear of making a mistake, that he has managed to win over everyone's heart." Maggie said gesturing toward Paul and all set their eyes on him.
The scout smiled shyly, though grateful for Maggie's words.
"Welcome to the family!" Tara exclaimed.
"Welcome!"
Paul looked at Daryl who was sitting in front of him, smiling. The scout couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the warmth offered by these people who, as Maggie had said, had only known him for a few weeks, and yet had opened their arms to him as if welcoming an old friend.
"C'mon! Don't be shy, say something!" Tara urged.
Paul laughed followed by the rest, and then cleared his throat.
"Okay… after this damn world took away from me the last person I had left in my life, I thought that maybe being alone was the best way to survive. The truth is that this hermit-like mentality helped me to get to where I am today—or at least it did, until one day I was amazed to see two fuckers robbing me of a truck full of supplies, which I'd hidden in a sorghum—"
"Wait…" Rick interrupted, "was it yours?"
Paul just waved his hands in the air, like that was only a trifling detail of the story.
"Now I understand everything…" Rick said.
"I jus' thought he was a damn persistent prick," Daryl joked.
Paul laughed, "well, I am actually but obviously things changed radically from that moment and I suddenly realized that maybe being alone was not the best way; we really need to unite and fight together for a better world. I never imagined being surrounded by something similar to a family ever again, but I'm glad to be part of this one."
The group responded enthusiastically to his words.
"That was very nice, but be honest," Tara burst out then, "it makes you happy to be closer to some than others… What did you say that thing on your neck was, Daryl?"
The archer quickly put a hand to his neck, covering the red mark, but the table burst into laughter. The two men blushed intensely even though they laughed with the rest.
"Wait…" Rick said, "Am I missing something? What are you talking about?"
The laughter became even louder.
"I'll explain you later…" Michonne said chuckling.
Paul sat on the desk in his room when he heard a knock on the door, "hello…" he said as soon as Daryl entered.
"I'm sure that armchair has a dent to match your butt."
"Maybe that's why I'm so comfortable."
Daryl walked over and sat down in the other chair by the desk, "What's wrong?"
Paul frowned, "Why do you ask?"
"Because Maggie has jus' won and yet you don't look too happy 'bout it—you worried about somethin'?"
The scout caught some air, "wow, archer, you're more insightful than I thought."
"Maybe you're jus' easy to read…"
Paul smiled slightly, but his face instantly became serious, "I just didn't expect Gregory to get so many votes."
"Yeah, me neither…"
"He has more support than I thought and I know him, I know he won't accept defeat so easily, and I worry that he might plan something against Maggie."
Daryl shook his head, implying that he understood what he was saying, "we ain't gonna to let him, Maggie has our backs."
"I know… I know." The scout rubbed his forehead and took another big breath. "Anyway, did you come just to ask me this? I thought you were going to bed?"
"Yeah, but Tara must not be very sleepy and started cleanin' the mess from dinner. She ain't exactly bein' quiet about it."
"Wouldn't it be much more considerate of you to help?"
"I tried, but she kicked me out—so… I thought that… maybe I could spend the night here…" he said as he scratched the back of his neck, then set his eyes on the scout's. "Rub that stupid smile off yer face, it's jus' to sleep."
Paul laughed, "I didn't say anything," he defended himself.
"Bein' honest, I wanna make sure you actually sleep a bit—I swear, if I've gotta spend all night in this chair on watch, I will."
The scout shook his head from side to side, laughing, "okay, you can stay, just to sleep, but I'm not going to let you spend all night sitting in that chair." Paul studied the archer's outfit, which was what he usually wore: his jeans, boots, shirt and vest. "Let me take a look and see if I have some clothes for you here."
"S'okay, I'm fine."
"Don't be an idiot, you're not going to sleep in that," Paul said, standing up and walking toward the closet, "unless you prefer to sleep without anything on—to each their own…"
"Yeah… you wish…"
"I remind you that I've already seen you naked, Dixon."
Daryl's cheeks burned like fire.
"Don't blush, man," Paul added with a smile, "you got nothing down there that you should be ashamed of."
Daryl chuckled modestly as Paul reached for something in the closet. He didn't have too many clothes, in fact much of what he had in there had been gifted by some of his neighbors. Most were garments that were too big for him and that he only used when he locked himself in the room to try to disconnect from the rest of the world.
"Here," he said, handing him a pair of black sweatpants and a brown sweater, "I suppose this will suit you."
Daryl picked up the clothes and stared at them for a moment. Then with care, he put them over the desk, and started to untie his boots. Paul could feel his nervousness just by observing the parsimony with which he moved his hands.
"I can wait outside if you want," the scout said gently.
The archer seemed to hesitate for a second, "Nah."
"Okay…"
After untying the boots, Daryl took them off and got up with his back to Paul, then he began to unbuckle the belt of his pants—again the discretion in his movements was more than evident. The scout turned around and sat on the bed, forcing his eyes on the door as he waited for Daryl to finish undressing himself and to put on the clothes he'd been given. He could notice his movements out of the corner of his eye, and he felt his heart racing inside his chest.
The scout sighed and closed his eyes trying to tell his body that they were just going to sleep.
"Where didja get these?" The archer asked suddenly.
Paul turned to look at him and he laughed when he saw him dressed like that—in mundane clothes that were too boring and much too big for him.
"You should see yourself… you look ridiculous," the scout said with a smile.
"Have you looked yourself in the mirror?" The archer said pointing the gray pants he usually wore and the black sweatshirt that was at least two sizes larger than he needed.
"I suppose the generosity of these people is directly proportional to the size of the clothes they give me."
Daryl went to the bed and Paul got up, but again they both stayed quiet and not quite sure of what to do.
"Uhm… do you have any preferences?" Paul said, pointing both sides of the bed.
"Nah, you?"
"Well I… I do prefer to sleep near the door, if you don't mind—It's just a habit, you know? Just in case something happens and I have to run out."
"Okay."
"Okay…"
Paul pushed aside the sheets and blankets, and got into the bed, Daryl did the same seconds later and the two sat for a while without saying anything.
"Are you comfortable?" Paul asked then.
"Yeah…"
Paul laughed, "you're so rigid that you look like a trunk, I remind you that this was your idea."
"I know jus'… turn off the light."
"Okay."
The scout turned off the lamp in the dresser next to the bed, and they laid down with their backs to each other. It was a rather large bed, but still it was impossible not to feel the presence of the other.
Paul sighed slightly and closed his eyes, though he was quite sure that sleep would be practically impossible. All the things that had happened there in just twenty-four hours, what was to come, the man lying next to him… The scout remembered what had happened two days ago, in the trailer, alone together in the archer's tiny bed. Paul felt an intense tingling in his stomach, though it was not just because of the physical aspect of what had happened—of course he had enjoyed that, every kiss, every touch… but the thing that had satisfied him the most was to see Daryl finally letting himself be carried away, leaving aside those fears and doubts that make him so uneasy.
"Sleep," Daryl said, breaking the silence of the room.
"How am I supposed to sleep if you keep talking?"
"I know you're awake."
"I don't have the power to fall asleep in two seconds, man."
The archer said nothing else and Paul couldn't help but smile, and suddenly he remembered all those times that Ben had had to drag his sleepy ass out of bed—things had changed so much since then, that he was sure he had stopped being that man a long time ago. It had been a long time since he'd pictured himself being capable of loving someone like he had done in the past, or sharing the same bed with another person—he hadn't even spent a whole night with Alex. There was always something to do; there was always an excuse to be made.
Paul took a deep breath again, and forced himself to clear his mind, at least for a moment. If he was lucky enough all that accumulated fatigue in his body would have an effect on him.
However, the hours passed, two or three, he wasn't sure—he had managed to fall asleep for half an hour or so but that was it. Now he was lying on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. From time to time he glanced at Daryl, who had changed his position and was now lying on his stomach, head buried in the pillow. Paul smiled; at least one of them had surrender to sleep.
The scout rubbed his eyes and rose from the bed carefully, trying not to wake the archer. Then he pulled the chair from his desk to the window and sat there for a long time. Thinking without thinking and observing without observing, as he looked into the night's darkness, that treacherous blackness that made them believe that that tranquility was real.
It must have been around half past three in the morning when Daryl began to move uneasily in bed, waving his arm, like he was looking for someone—probably him—and grunted when he obviously didn't find what he was looking for. The archer rubbed his face and leaned on his elbows, scanning the room with his sleepy eyes, then turned on the lamp on the small table by his side of the the bed, and his gaze finally met the scout's.
"The fuck are you doin' there?" He asked hoarsely.
Paul shrugged, "I couldn't sleep, and I move a lot when I can't—didn't want to wake you up."
The archer cursed under his breath, rubbed his face again and sat on the bed.
"I should go," he whispered then.
"It's not your fault, Daryl, it's something that's here," he said, placing a finger on his temple, "and I can't do anything about it it."
The two went silent then, while Daryl scratched his forehead as if he was trying to think of something.
"C'mere," he said after a while, patting the free space by his side and leaning his back on the head of the bed.
Paul stared at him, "let's make things clear here, I wasn't serious about getting me unconscious," he joked, rising from his chair.
"Wasn't thinkin' 'bout that, but now that you mention it…"
The scout got into the bed again and settled down next to the archer.
"Well, what's your plan?"
"Talk," Daryl replied.
"Talk?"
"Yeah, maybe if we talk 'bout stupid things, you might get bored and fall asleep."
"Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
Daryl was silent for a moment, but his cheeks turned a faint crimson color even before the words came out of his mouth.
"How was your first time?" he asked.
Paul's eyes widened, not sure he'd heard the archer clearly, then sat up to face him.
"Is that your concept of a boring conversation?"
The archer shrugged and looked down in embarrassment, "I'm jus' curios—well, maybe you haven't ever—I mean, if you ever—"
"I know what you mean…"
Paul smiled at the archer's distress, and lay down again.
"Okay… god, let's see, my first time bottoming was, if I remember correctly, when I was fifteen and… it was the worst experience of my entire life. I told you that I've never hidden to anyone who I am, I've never been ashamed of it, and at that time I also was very confident, I really thought that I could get whatever I wanted—"
"You mean you're not now?" The archer joked.
"Shut up," they both laughed, but the scout's tone suddenly became serious. "I became obsessed with this guy, three years older than me, and who happened to have a girlfriend—but I didn't mind, I flirted with him whenever I saw him, and far from telling me to stop, he played along. One day I was walking home and he passed by with his car; he stopped and offered to take me. Of course, I said yes, and I think he hadn't even started the car when I laid my hand on his thigh. He didn't tell me to pull it off, and only two blocks away, he turned and we ended up on the outskirts, behind an abandoned building, making out like crazy. I don't even know how we ended up in the back seat, half naked but all of a sudden he was already putting on a condom—seriously, the fucker acted like he had been sexually deprived for years—and I got scared, I told him to calm down, to slow down, that it was my first time, that I hadn't done that before—but he wasn't listening, he turned me around and fucked me like a fucking animal."
Paul took a deep breath, "then when he finished, he told me to get out of the car, and he left me there."
"What…?" Daryl asked in surprise.
"It hurt so much—I don't think I could sit down for a week… but that wasn't the worst part. One day he came up to me and threatened me, saying that he would burn my house down with my family inside, if I dared to tell something about it," Paul chuckled sarcastically. "Like I was eager to tell that shitty story to anyone—I guess the asshole was aware that he wasn't going to frighten me with that threat, so one day he sent out a bunch of his friends to wait for me after school. They cornered me, took me to a secluded area and beat me up until I passed out."
Paul noticed Daryl shifting uneasily to his side.
"I don't remember much of what happened to be honest, when I woke up I was already in the hospital. My mother was talking to the doctor, and he was telling her that there was a chance that I would lose my left eye. Fortunately, I didn't, but as a reminder of that day I had a scar on my upper lip. I know it's silly, especially comparing it to what you had to suffer but, for a long time I wasn't able to look at myself in the mirror… seeing that scar only reminded me over and over again how stupid I was. So over the years I let my beard grow out, and the scar was hidden."
The scout sighed, "after that I didn't let a single man get near my ass," he said, making it sound like a joke, but there was resentment in his words, "until I met Ben, with him everything was so easy—there were no rules, we just did what we wanted, we…"
Again the memory of Ben made him feel a pressure on his chest. Paul leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. Then he felt Daryl's hand on his back, caressing softly.
"If that son of a bitch crosses my path some day, I'll cut off his cock and feed it to the pigs."
The words made the scout laugh, "What makes you think I wouldn't do that myself?"
Daryl just smiled.
"You know, what?" Paul said, "you were right, this story has managed to exhaust me."
Paul leaned back, letting Daryl put an arm around him.
"Let's sleep, then," the archer said.
"Yeah… let's sleep."
Paul lifted his chin slightly to meet Daryl's lips in a quick goodnight kiss, but after that came another kiss and then another…
"Thought we were gonna sleep," the archer said in a hoarse whisper.
"Mhmm…"
But Paul didn't stop kissing him, and the archer responded by pulling him closer. Their tongues brushing; demanding more with each caress.
After a few endless minutes, their mouths parted briefly—Paul left room for Daryl to lie down on the bed, and their lips met again. The scout interlaced his legs with the archer's and placed himself on top of him partially. The kisses becoming deeper and more urgent.
Daryl's hands moved along Paul's back, over his clothes, while the scout lifted the archer's brown sweater slightly, tracing the line of hair down his abdomen with his fingertips. Their breaths quickened, becoming heavy and short, as the gasps in their throats filled the room.
They were so engrossed with each other that neither of them heard the timid knocking on the door, nor did they notice the moment it opened.
"Oh, fuck…"
Surprised by the intrusion, Paul broke away from Daryl just in time to see Alex leave the room and close the door behind him.
"What the fu—?"
"Shit…"
The scout jumped out of the bed, and went out into the hall quickly, hoping to catch up with the nurse before he could reach the stairs but stopped short when he realized that Alex not only had not run away, but was there, in the hallway, planted like a statue, his skin pale looking like he'd just seen a ghost, and his eyes fixed on one of the paintings on the opposite wall.
"Alex…"
"Don't say anything…" he urged, "just go in there and tell him to dress if he needs to—we have to talk and we have to talk now."