Daryl walked up the steps of the house, his heavy boots against the wood emitting a loud thud with every step.
And with each stride, a brown imprint went to soil the surface of the terrace, white, clean and inexplicably well kept for the way the world now turned.
Daryl was sure it would take him years to get used to all that Alexandria's pristine white, if he ever succeeded and if this place ever lasted.
He hated that place, so out of reality, and at the same time he hated hoping that this idyll wasn't just an illusion.
Judith, Carl, Maggie and Glenn, Carol ...
All of them deserved to live in such a place, behind solid walls to protect them.
And Y / N ...
Knowing that she was finally sheltered and safe also heartened him.
He would endure all that white even to the end of his life if it was necessary.
He opened the door of the house, his gaze down on his boots as he pressed one foot over the other to take them off, being careful not to soil the floor.
Y / N had yelled at him that morning, when, before going out to hunt, he had crossed the entire corridor of the house and the living room to reach the door, heedless of the footprints of dirt and encrusted blood he had left on the floor and on the white carpets.
He sighed, closing his eyes, and raising his head, psychologically preparing himself for the punch in the eye that the pale walls of that house were causing him.
Couldn't they be grey like the ones in prison?
He would have been satisfied even with a light grey.
But no.
Walls, curtains, carpets ... white, white, only white.
He opened his eyes.
...
Definitely too much white.
More than he remembered.
More than what he had seen that morning on his way out.
More than he expected to see.
A punch in the eye that he believed would be even stronger but instead turned out to be extremely sweet.
So much that he stared at that cascade of white fabric dominated by a lock of wavy hair.
Y / N, in front of the mirror at the entrance, was wearing what looked definitely a wedding dress: long, the slightly puffy skirt and wide lace sleeves flowed down her arms, leaving her shoulders uncovered.
She turned her head towards him, smiling a little embarrassed.
At that moment she seemed as small and delicate to Daryl as he never would have thought Y / N could be, used to seeing her fight, armed with sharp knives and a pistol.
Her slightly disheveled hair framed her face and ended over her shoulders, exhausting her already slender figure.
-Hey, you came back earlier.-
Daryl just nodded, not looking away.
-I was looking for something nice for Deanna's party tonight. I found a chest up in the attic with this dress in it. And ... I thought I could have try it. I know it's stupid but I think my mother would have liked to see me in a white dress at least once, even only for a joke ...-
Daryl didn't know what to answer, as her eyes frowned for a moment, surrounded by a slight blush that stood out against her pale skin.
He just nodded again.
- I've never been a wedding person, you know? I have never once thought or dreamed of trying a wedding dress. And now here I am, with a dress from a few decades ago. I waited for the apocalypse to happen .- she laughed nervously as she lightly rubbed her right eye.
-You've always been stubborn.- He tried to lift her up, smiling just as he still didn't dare look away from her.
This time it was her who nodded. She once again ran her hand over her eyes, taking away any trace of tears from her face.
Then she turned completely to Daryl.
White, white and more white.
- Can you help me with the zipper? -
She took a few steps towards him and the man found himself backing off quickly, bumping his back against the door.
Y / N looked at him in surprise.
- What's up? -
Yeah, why had he pulled back?
He stood a few seconds without answering then he gave voice to the first vaguely valid reason that came to mind.
- I'd get you dirty. -
She looked at him even more perplexed.
- Since when do you worry about some blood and dirt? -
- You said that you can see more dirt on white. -
- Nobody will wear this dress anymore, anyway. -
- You sure? –
-Mmh-mh- then she turned around, giving him her back and lifting her hair, uncovering the zipper of the dress.
-I'm definitely not going to use it for tonight's party.- She giggled.
Daryl didn't answer right away and, paying more attention than he ever wanted to admit, he pulled the zipper down without touching the white fabric.
- Do you really want to go to that stupid party? -
- Actually no, but it was organized for us. It wouldn't be polite not to show up. Why do you ask me that, anyway? –
- We could stay here, no hassle ...-
Daryl tried to find the right words.
-And you could wear it for a bit longer .-
The man heard her giggle.
-Are you trying tell me you like how I look?- She asked, without turning around, imagining how Daryl could feel embarrassed at that moment.
In fact, the archer felt a strong heat rising up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.
He just shrugged, grunting.
Y / N laughed again, spinning quickly in a small whirlwind of white lace, to leave him a light kiss on the lips and then turn around, walking up the stairs.
Daryl stood still for a few seconds against the door.
The shadow of the light, pale cloth still into his eyes.
He found himself thinking that maybe the white wasn't too bad.
All thanks to a fucking vintage wedding dress.