I didn't want him to leave.

After our post-hookup pizza dinner, Daryl and I sat on the couch and relaxed a bit. We still hadn't spoken about what had happened earlier, not that he seemed incredibly eager to do so, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. It had all happened so quickly. One minute I'd been a tragic, bawling mess on my apartment floor, and the next we were together in bed, panting as we tried to catch our breath. It had been so...carnal. I had never felt more desired in my life. The way his eyes fell over every part of me, the way his rough fingers had gripped onto me, everything was different from what I had been accustomed to. I never thought I could let loose like that. Maybe it was a bit of Daryl's careless influence.

Leaning back so I was resting against the plush armrest, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at Daryl. Even while he was just sitting on the sofa with his arm draped over the top, there was this guarded look to him. His eyes were practically being swallowed by dark, black bags, and I could also see a few more wrinkles than I did before. He had a few different tattoos that caught my attention and I made a mental note to ask him about them later. Without his shirt on, I could see the scars my fingers had brushed over earlier. They hadn't felt as bad as they appeared in the light of my living room. My heart ached for him without even knowing why. I wanted to ask him about them, but I opted against it, waiting for a better time when we knew each other a bit better.

Then it hit me. I barely knew that man. While we'd been spending a lot of time together over the past few days, I still didn't know much about him apart from what he'd told me after breakfast that first day he'd come over. He hadn't told me much about his family, or his friends, or even himself for that matter. All I knew was that he liked Johnny Cash. As I stared at him, I tried to figure out the enigma that was Daryl Dixon. My mind raced from thought to thought, from where he could have been from to what he wanted from life. I wondered what his favorite food was, what he did in his free time apart from hunting, fishing, and tinkering with the bike. I wondered if he thought of me when I wasn't around like I had begun to do about him. He must have noticed me staring because he spoke up soon after.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he asked, his tone quiet and reserved. He shifted uncomfortably in attempts of covering his scars with the back cushions on the couch. I mentally cursed myself for staring, knowing I'd have to explain myself sooner or later.

"What's your favorite color?" I asked, trying to show him that I had the purest of intentions. I could visibly see him relax again, his chest deflating and his eyes began to shine again. I had never had to work so hard at learning about people, usually because the people I surrounded myself with were open books like me. Daryl, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He had this mysterious aura surrounding him that I couldn't help but want to get passed. I wanted to know everything and anything about him, I wanted to connect with him more than I already had.

He smiled for a moment and turned his head to face me. "Green" he replied slyly, winking as he spoke. I hung my head in embarrassment as I thought about the panties that were still on my bedroom floor, my cheeks turning the brightest shade of crimson. Noting my bashfulness, he continued. "Ya know, there's a certain shade I like too..."

Before he could finish his thought, I took a nearby pillow and chucked it at him, only for him to catch it before it hit him. We laughed together before he threw the pillow back at me, which I didn't catch, and I clutched it to my body.

"Why'dja ask?" he implored, his eyes riddled with genuine confusion. It was as if no one had ever thought to ask him before.

"I just wanna learn about you" I explained. "I wanna get to know you. Is that so bad?" I smiled warmly at him until I noticed he wasn't smiling back. He turned his head so he was facing the ceiling again and sighed.

" 'm not really all that interestin' " he said softly as he continued to avoid my gaze. "Haven' done much in my time except drink, fix cars, hunt, and deal with my dumbass brother."

Sitting up, I moved closer to Daryl and sat right beside him, my palm resting on his thigh. "I'm sure that's not true" I said warmly as my thumb glided over his jeans. With as much time as we'd spent together, I couldn't understand why he felt this way about himself. When I was around him, he made me feel safe and invincible, like I could handle anything. When we'd went out with me friends, he'd stood by me and took care of me even though he had no obligation to. The more I saw of Daryl Dixon, the more good I found in him.

Daryl finally turned and looked at me, pain filling his eyes again. "Yeah? How the hell do you know?" he asked, his harsh tone catching me off guard. I pulled my hand back before I heard him speak again. "Ya said it yourself, you're just gettin' to know me. How do'ya know that I'm not just some nobody redneck asshole, with an even bigger asshole for a brother?"

I shifted and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head against his chest. I could feel his heart beating against his chest and I could hear his breathing become harsher at my touch. He didn't embrace me in return, but I didn't expect him to. If I knew one thing about Daryl, it was that he had his secrets. Taking a deep breath, I breathed him in instead of air, the now familiar scents of Daryl seeping into me. "I don't think you're just some nobody, redneck asshole" I said quietly as I tested the waters. "Wanna know what I think?" I took his prolonged silence as my answer.

"You put up this front so nobody can get close to you, but for some reason, you're slowly letting me in. You come over here when you see my door open to make sure I'm okay. You took care of me when I was drunk and you didn't take advantage of me like I'm sure your brother would have done. After Jimmy hit me and I threw him out, you held me while I cried and told me that everything would be okay. Does that sound like some nobody, redneck asshole to you?"

Before I could move, Daryl was rising from my couch. There was a fire in his eyes, and he clenched his fists at his side. His breathing was rough and labored like he was in pain. All I could do was sit there with my hands in my lap as I watched him, unsettled by his demeanor especially following the incident with Jimmy earlier that day. "You don' know anything, girl" he spat through gritted teeth. "You think I'm some knight in shinin' armor?" His hands gestured at he books on my walls. "You think I'm some hero from one of your books? People aren't like that, Beth. No one, especially me."

Daryl turned on his heels and stalked to my bedroom, grabbing his boots from beside my bed. He didn't even put them on before he huffed past me and out the door, slamming it upon his exit. I heard him barrel into his own apartment and I could hear the sounds of his boots hitting the wall like he'd thrown them. I ran to my door and pulled it open so I could walk across the hall. As I stood in front of his door, my hand ready to knock, the familiar sounds of Johnny Cash's resonating voice flooded from behind it.

"I will let you down. I will make you hurt..."