I wrote this trash the other day I hope you feel as much pain as I felt thinking about some stupid shoelaces enjoy this
Beth noticed long ago that her shoelaces were starting to fray and Daryl's were even worse off than hers. Stomping through muddy backwoods of Georgia seemed to have taken a toll on the strings that kept their boots tight on their feet. She knew it wasn't technically a priority, it wasn't really something essential to their survival at all, but it would be nice to find some new ones. So she kept an eye out for some.
The day she found some in a small, semi-stocked convenience store, she was ecstatic. After she was sure it was safe enough, and Daryl was back at her side, she knelt down and started to untie her boots.
"What're you doin' now, girl?" Daryl grunted, and Beth smiled a little at the hint of exasperation in his voice. She knew he didn't understand half the things she did: why she talked so much, hoped, sang, watched the stars at night, watched him at night, though neither of them ever mention that. He tried to understand, and he asked some times. She wasn't sure he'd get this either, except maybe he would.
"Our shoelaces are worn. They won't hold out too much longer." Beth said as she slipped the last of the old dirt-caked thread from her boots. She glanced up at Daryl whose expression had varied from its usual indifferent, emotionless mask. He looked understanding, almost. While he kept in mind the larger necessities for survival such as food and shelter, she was thinking about the bits of string that held their shoes on their feet. "You should change yours too."
He sat down and followed her example, unraveling the shoelaces from his boots, trying to ignore the grin she was giving him and the way it lit up her face. She grabbed the new black and white laces from beside her and threaded them into her boots, switching from a black strand to one of the white ones, before handing one of each to Daryl. He stared at her, arching an eyebrow questioning, prompting in his silent way for her to explain.
"I like them this way." Beth told him, her smile smaller now. "It's kind of stylish, I think."
"You think we'll get on the cover of Apocalypse Weekly or somethin'?" He asked and she giggled pulling an honest to God laugh from him.
"Maybe we will, Mr. Dixon." Beth teased, standing up and stuffing her old laces into her bag for later use. She marvelled for a moment at the way his lips tugged up in the smallest trace of a smile at the action until he stood and shouldered his bag again.
"Let's go." He told her and she followed him out of the store with a smile, resolving to do whatever she could to see that smile on his face again.