Yeah, this is one of those days where I'm just really excited for y'all to read this so let me know what you think!
Chapter Fifteen
For the first time since he was a child, nightmares kept Shane awake at night. They'd started the night Daryl disappeared, more than a week ago now, and continued to plague him every time he'd closed his eyes since.
Shane loathed himself for it, but he couldn't bring himself to be angry. Not even resentful, or frustrated—no, all he felt these days was fear. A kind of profound helplessness he'd never experienced before. If anything, he hated himself for stooping this low, allowing himself to let Daryl close enough that the loss of what they'd had would leave a hole in his chest.
When he dreamt, he dreamt of Daryl. His mind fabricated different scenes each night, but the result was always the same. Daryl lying dead at his feet, Daryl dying in his arms, or worse yet, being forced to watch as Daryl was killed by another right before his eyes.
Tonight was no different.
"Please, Shane," Daryl groaned, throwing his head back against the older boy's shoulder. He didn't have much stamina for teasing on a good day, and they'd been at this for over an hour now. But fuck, Shane loved it when he begged.
"Gonna have to do better than that, Daryl," Shane murmured, crooking his fingers and rubbing hard against Daryl's prostate until the boy sobbed and writhed, gasping for air. They were pressed as close together as could be, with Daryl's back to Shane's front, and the jock's hand wrapped tightly around the base of Daryl's cock. He couldn't come, even if he wanted to. Even if he needed it more than anything, couldn't take another second of this suspended bliss.
"Whatever you want," Daryl moaned, "I'll do whatever you want, Shane. Please."
Shane tightened his hand around Daryl's cock, pressed his fingers in just a little bit harder.
"You know what I want," Shane growled into his ear, and Daryl shivered violently, twisting in his arms so he could look the other boy in the eye.
"I—I n-need you, Shane," Daryl stuttered out with bright red cheeks.
"Is that all?" Shane murmured, nuzzling against his neck. He relinquished his grip on Daryl to allow the boy to face him fully. Daryl immediately went to bury his face in Shane's chest, still unable to say the words while looking the older boy in the eye.
Shane carded his fingers through Daryl's hair, and stroked gently down the side of his neck.
"S'alright, Daryl," Shane whispered soothingly, "You can tell me. I want to know. I want to hear it again."
He pressed against the arch of Daryl's shoulders, trying to mead the tension out of his body. Rather than responding the way he knew Shane wanted, Daryl snaked a hand between their bodies and jerked open Shane's jeans, promptly beginning to stroke the jock's neglected length.
"You need to hear me say it first?" Shane asked breathlessly, "Still?"
Daryl's answer came in a flick of the wrist that had his palm grazing none too gently across the head, making Shane's back bow.
"Look at me," Shane demanded. And when those baby blues darted up obediently, still uncertain after all this time, Shane smiled at him softly. "I love you."
He said it without any doubt in his voice, but also without the power that might indicate the words were forced. Shane said it, and even though Daryl believed him, he still squinted slightly, searching the other boy's face.
But Shane knew Daryl well, well enough to understand that the younger boy thrived off of actions, rather than words. So he took Daryl's cock in hand once more and began to stroke him slowly, watching his face.
"I love you," Shane said again, as he peppered kisses across Daryl's cheeks. He didn't worry much when they came away damp and salty; Shane knew that was just how Daryl processed. His body had a natural inclination to reject Shane's endearments, reject any affection at all until he was pushed over the edge. Broken down enough to acknowledge the truth of it all.
Shane's hand moved harder, faster. He knew the boy was hanging on by a thread as it was, having been made to hover just above the crest of release for so long now, and it wouldn't take much to shake him loose.
"Fuck, fuck Shane," Daryl moaned, watching Shane's eyes instead of his hands. "I'm so—fuck, I'm close, I'm—" He sucked in a shuddering breath. "Love you Shane," he whispered in a rush, "Please, please lemme…"
Shane kissed him hard, because that, that was something worth rewarding. It only took a few more rough movements of Shane hand for Daryl to erupt between them, clutching onto Shane like a lifetime and groaning into his mouth.
"That's it," Shane muttered against Daryl's cheek as he began to thrust forcefully into the younger boy's fist, "That's it. Fuck."
He came with a jolt, a shiver ripping down his spine as he watched Daryl slowly come back to himself. They stayed pressed together against the wall for some time. And Shane kissed Daryl leisurely, putting back together the pieces he'd taken apart. He righted Daryl's clothes while the boy righted his world, and things were good, peaceful even.
Until the front door slammed shut.
The look of unmasked terror in Daryl's eyes was enough to make Shane's stomach drop. And they were both moving, going for the back door, but there wasn't any time.
"You worthless piece of shit," came the voice of Will Dixon, blocking their way and ripping Daryl right out of Shane's grasp. He jumped to go after them, step between them and take those lashes himself, but two large arms grabbed him from behind, holding him back as Daryl was dragged away by his hair and thrown to the floor.
"Merle, lemme go!" Shane yelled, "Let me go. Fucking let me go! Don't do this, don't—"
"Shoulda known you'd be a faggot too," Will Dixon seethed, "A fuckin' disappointment!" He punctuated the words with a sharp kick to Daryl's ribs. Then again. And, again. "You ain't got a bit of Dixon in you, boy. No, you're weak!" thud "Not my son. Not my son." thud "And this ain't getting around, boy. I ain't havin' this whole town know I raised some degenerate cocksucker."
Shane fought and snapped against Merle's grasp, but the larger man was relentless. Another blow landed to Daryl's middle, and even though the youngest Dixon took the pain silently, a constricted sob escaped Shane's chest.
"Stop! STOP! You're gonna kill him. He's your son! Please, please…"
Will Dixon kept it up until there was a sickening crack, followed by a second, and a third, and all of Daryl's breaths were coming in wheezy and shallow.
"Just let him go," Shane begged, "Just let him go! You can do whatever you want to me, alright? You can fucking kill me! Just let him go!"
Daryl's father jerked open his belt. "You take this like a man," he growled, before throwing his son over the side of the chair.
And then that first lash came down like a guillotine, sharper than a blade, and Shane didn't want to watch. He didn't want to see how still Daryl was holding himself, or know that it was because the boy couldn't move anymore, didn't have the strength and was rapidly losing blood. He didn't want to see the tears streaming down his face, or the way his mouth was held open in a silent scream. And Shane wanted desperately, prayed to whatever god had already abandoned them, to strike him blind when Daryl's breathing began to fade in and out, then suddenly, wasn't there at all.
But Will Dixon didn't stop. He didn't stop until the pool of blood around Daryl's body had reached his feet. Until his son's face was paler than plastic and Shane's legs had given out on him entirely. Merle finally dropped his arms and let him fall to the floor as he sobbed.
Shane heard the squelch of boots against blood-drenched carpet as Daryl's father approached him.
"Just, just kill me—" Shane gasped amid heaving breaths, "Just kill me, just—"
Shane woke with a sob, with tears streaming down his face and his heart hammering against his chest. The dreams were always bad, always left him a sobbing wreck in their wake. But it was so much worse that his brain had tricked him into believing things were good. Reliving a moment he wished were real, rather than being forced endure the worst of his fears. Shane wished so badly for those first few blissful moments to have been a memory. But they were just another figment of his unconscious, tormenting him for things he'd never done, and words he'd never said or had the pleasure to hear.
He was in Daryl's bed again, had found himself there in the late hours of the evening long past the point where the rest of the Grimes household had gone to sleep. He let himself in through the back door, because he knew they wouldn't mind, and because sleeping alone in his big empty house only seemed to make things worse.
Shane tried to quiet his sobs, get a handle on his hitching breaths, but he knew it was no use.
There was a rap at the door. "Shane?"
And fuck, of course it was Rick, creeping around his own house in the dead of night.
"I'm—m'fine," Shane croaked out, but his friend was not having it. Rick cracked open the door and took in the desolate sight in front of him. He shut the door and took a step towards the bed, making his intent clear. And leave me the fuck alone was on the tip of Shane's tongue. But if there were two facts he knew better than anything, the first was that it wasn't healthy for him to be alone right now, and the second was that Rick would never leave him anyways.
"You alright, man?" Rick asked carefully, even though the answer was clear.
"J-just, just a bad dream," Shane struggled to get out, still hiccupping with every other breath.
"Yeah," Rick said quietly, sitting down on the bed, "You haven't looked like you've been sleeping lately."
Shane huffed out a laugh that was choked off by a sob.
"You know you don't gotta sneak in," Rick tried, "You're always welcome here, man. You're family."
"Yeah," Shane sighed, "I know. T-tried to sleep at my house, just, c-couldn't, and I—"
"Do you wanna tell me what it was about?" Rick asked cautiously, "I mean, ya don't have to. It's just—you haven't said much, since he left. And I know you're hurting man, you don't hide it well. Maybe it'll help to talk?"
Shane let out a low sigh. "Don't wanna talk," he said finally, getting a handle on his breathing, "Talk about it, and he's really... and I can't take that. S'bad enough as it is."
"That nightmare looked bad. You had one like it before?"
Shane nodded slightly. "Since he…" Left, fuck, he still couldn't say it out loud. Daryl left me. "They're all different, but they end the same. Daryl's dead, and I can't do anything. Can't help him. Tonight it was…it was his dad. Hurtin' him because of me. And Merle was holding me back—I had to watch—"
Shane cut himself off again, fighting to keep himself from breaking down.
"Jesus, Shane. That's horrible," Rick whispered.
"You're tellin' me," Shane mumbled, but he couldn't muster up a smile to go with the feigned lightness of his words. "It's just, I never told him how much I—and now he's—and fuck, I keep thinkin' that if I'd just said it…"
"He knew though," Rick tried to reason, "S'not like he thought it was some casual thing. You and him, Daryl knew y'all were in it for the long haul—"
"Not were," Shane cut him off, "Not was. You don't get it man. The way I feel about him, I can't stop. It's never gonna stop." And I'm not sure if I want it to.
"You've just got to give it time," Rick told him, "It fucking sucks, but time's the thing. The only thing."
"Yeah…" Shane sighed, frowning a little as Rick pulled the sheets over him and bunkered down in bed. "What are you doin'?"
"Sleepin'," Rick mumbled back, and that's all he would say, because even if Shane wouldn't acknowledge it, even if Shane refused to ask aloud, he needed Rick right now. He needed to know he wasn't alone.
"Thanks," Shane replied under his breath after several minutes had passed. And even though it wasn't the real deal, when Shane finally willed his eyes to close, the feel of Rick's warm body beside him was enough to lull Shane back to sleep.
TWDTWDTWDTWD
Rick's presence might have helped Shane fall asleep, but that moment of blind hope just before Shane had opened his eyes, the split second where he'd thought it was Daryl beside him…well, that was enough to sour the day as a whole.
He went to school in a daze. Walked from class to class, but took in nothing around him. It was only in the cafeteria, as he failed to eat the lunch in front of him, that some of the words did begin to register.
Unfortunately, it was Lori who was speaking them.
"So where's that hillbilly boyfriend of yours, Shane?"
He looked up at her silently, snapping her neck in his mind.
"Wait, don't tell me," she mocked with a snide smile, "He broke it off, didn't he? Yeah, he did. Wow, Shane. Can't even keep some piece of shit redneck interested. There must be something really wrong with you, huh Shane, if you couldn't even convince Daryl Dixon to stick around."
And Shane was both thankful and furious when he vaulted up out of his chair, more than willing to commit murder with an entire cafeteria full of witnesses, but instead collided with Rick's solid form.
"Get off of me," Shane growled as Rick held him back, "Get off of me, Rick. I'll fuckin' kill her!"
But Rick wouldn't let him go. He dragged him roughly by both arms out of the school and into the parking lot, hoping that getting Lori out of his sight would help to calm his friend down.
"Why did you do that?" Shane demanded, pacing and seething. "Why did you do that?"
"Come on, Shane. You really thought I was gonna let you hit her? In front of everyone?"
"She fuckin' deserved it."
"She did. And lemme tell you, if anyone deserves to clock her one it's me. But you know that ain't the way to handle things. I ain't gonna let you beat up a girl in broad daylight."
"You're takin' her side," Shane accused, mind on the fritz.
"No, I'm takin' yours. For fuck's sake, Shane, you've got to get a fuckin' handle on yourself. Daryl left. Alright? He fucking left you! And you need to start dealin' with it—"
"No, no…" Shane interrupted, pacing and scrubbing his hand over his head obsessively.
"You need to hear this, Shane," Rick insisted. "Daryl's gone. He left, alright? He chose that! And I'm not gonna watch you destroy your own life because you're not ready to deal with it. Daryl left you Shane. He—"
Shane cut him off with a fist, and Rick was down on the first hit, half sprawled on the pavement in shock. He pressed a hand to his face and looked up at Shane with fear and surprise in his eyes, and all Shane could do was look at his hand as if it wasn't connected to his body.
"I didn't mean to…" Shane whispered dully, to no one in particular. He finally looked Rick in the eye, but only as he began to back away. "M'sorry, Rick. I didn't mean to, I swear."
And then Shane did the only thing he could do. He ran. Ran straight to his truck and jumped in the driver's seat, peeling out of the parking lot even as Rick called his name in his wake.
TWDTWDTWDTWD
It wasn't until Shane pulled into the same lot where he'd gotten Will Dixon arrested that he realized where he was going. He walked right under the sign that said BA, into the run down establishment, and took a seat at a stool farthest from the door.
The bartender walked up to him with a dirty rag slung over one shoulder. "Well, look who it is," he said, "Hate to tell you this, but ya look like shit, kid."
Shane snorted. "Good thing you ain't the first to let me know."
The man set down a shot glass in front of him and poured in a healthy amount of whiskey. Shane cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Just don't go tellin' any of your friends," the guy ordered gruffly, and Shane chugged down the amber liquid without complaint.
"Hey, I remember you," came a low voice from Shane's left. He looked over to find none other than the sour, rough looking man he'd paid off months before to call the cops on Daryl's father. Figures that he'd be a regular, sitting at the bar all afternoon on a weekday, rather than working for a living.
"Oh yeah?" Shane replied flatly. "What do you remember?"
"Remember you shovin' them twenty dollar bills in my hand, for one," the man said with a glint in his eye. "Ya know what I heard? Heard Will Dixon's down in county now. Heard he's gonna be there for a decade at least."
"That so?" Shane muttered, tension building in his gut.
"Damn straight," the man continued. "And I was thinkin', awfully coincidental that you knew walkin' in here that night that old Will would go and start a fight with ya. Downright mystic, if ya ask me."
Shane flipped his glass over with a clatter, and stood up off his stool in a rush, finally looking the other man dead in the eye. "What of it?" he growled.
But the man wasn't one to back down. "Well, the way I see it, the cops might be interested in your little bout of clairvoyance. Information like that, it'd probably shed a whole lotta doubt on why Dixon got locked up to begin with. Dontcha think?"
Shane glowered at him. "I think it's none of their damn business, and sure as hell ain't yours."
"Yeah, and I'd say the same, if ya hadn't dragged me into this from the get go. Now boy, I ain't sayin' I can't be reasonable. You and me, all's we gotta do is work out an arrangement," the man said with a leering smile.
"You best tread real fuckin' carefully here," Shane threatened, taking another step forward.
The man's face darkened. "And why would I do that? Watcha gonna do about it, hoss?"
Shane let out a rush of breath through pursed lips. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. And he began to turn away, might have walked right out of that damn bar and headed home, if the man had managed to keep his mouth shut.
"S'what I thought," he grunted, and Shane spun around on a dime, using the momentum of his movements to hook his right fist soundly against the other man's cheek. There was a sharp thud, a globule of blood spit to the floor, before the man launched himself at him, and Shane didn't have to think twice about defending himself.
The man fought dirty, scratched at his face and kneed him in the nuts as they wrestled on the ground. But the rational part of Shane's mind had left the building, gone dormant in lieu of the possessive, prevailing, feral portion that all but screamed at him to rip this fucker limb from limb. It would have been one thing if the man had only threatened him. But the thought of Will Dixon free to go as he pleased, the thought of Daryl's face if he ran into his father out on the streets…no. Shane wouldn't let that happen. And he'd kill this motherfucker for even suggesting it.
Shane didn't let up. He hardly felt the blows, or heard the shouts from around him. And it was only when two armed officers dragged him away that Shane finally let his body go slack, chest heaving as he tried to get the rush of adrenaline under control.
"Shane?! Shane, what the hell happened?"
The jock winced, partly because the feeling in his body was returning and partly because of-fucking-course Sheriff Grimes was the first on the scene. The man came to crouch next to him, where he was sitting against the side of the building, guarded by men in uniform. He ushered them away.
"Shane, what—"
"I started it," Shane rasped, "You can take me in, I…he said some shit, 'bout the Dixons…and I lost it. It was my fault, Mr. Grimes. Mine."
The Sheriff let out a long sigh. "Ain't you supposed to be in school, son?"
Shane looked at him strangely. "I was. But Lori…said some stuff. 'Bout Daryl. Rick tried to help, but I, I fuckin' hit him." Shane looked up at Rick's father sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered, "But I left, and nothin' else was helping, so I thought maybe a drink…fuck, I just wanted a goddamn drink."
He buried his face in his hands again, leaning against his knees and trying to drown out the world.
"Alright," the Sheriff said slowly, "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go talk to my officers. We're going to work something out with the owner of this…place. And then you and I are going to go home. Now wait here."
Shane closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sun, hoping dully that the Earth might finally burn up and take him with it.
After a lengthy discussion, Sheriff Grimes returned and hauled him up by one arm, throwing him into the back of his cruiser and escorting him home. They drove in silence, entered the house in silence and sat down at the kitchen table together without exchanging a word.
Rick's father got up and went over to the fridge. He plucked two beers out of the bottom bin, popped them both open, and handed one to Shane. The boy took it hesitantly, expecting to be scolded a moment after. But when the Sheriff simply sat beside him, drinking his beer and staring out into the yard, Shane followed his lead.
"It's time we have a talk," the eldest Grimes began, and Shane's eyes dropped to his lap. "You and Daryl, you two were…together. Yes?"
"Mmhmm," Shane grunted, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.
"Right. Now, you've got to understand, the only reason I didn't bring this up sooner was because you and Daryl didn't seem to want anyone to know. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. But considering how that went, it might be time to push the matter. So let's put it all on the table. Just what were you and Daryl to each other?"
Shane cocked an eyebrow at him. "Together, like you said."
"Yes, but together can mean a lot of things. It could mean that things between the two of you were just…physical, so to speak. Though it doesn't seem like that was the case…?"
"I cared about him," Shane confirmed, "I care about him. Fuck, I lo—" Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. "But I never told him. Maybe he knew, at least part of it, but I never said what I shoulda said." Shane took a lengthy draw from his bottle. "And now I'm going fuckin' insane, because I know Merle won't take care of him. All I did, all I've done since things started with Daryl was try to protect him. And that makes me sound like a pussy, but it's true. I had to—from his dad…and himself. And now he's god knows where with that asshole, and I can't fucking take not knowing if he's okay. Merle's the one who left him to begin with! Left him alone with his sick fuck of a father. But he thought we were gonna make him choose. I could see it, ya know? See it in his eyes the second Merle came back. But he never talked to me about it, he just left."
Shane took a deep, shuddering breath, and finally looked up for the Sheriff's reaction. He was surprised to find the man had a slight smile on his face.
"It sounds like what you really need to do is tell all this to Daryl."
"Probably. But he left his phone here, and I ain't exactly psychic."
"But that doesn't mean you can't talk at him, per se. I think you should call him. Say everything you wished you'd said, and even if Daryl never gets to hear it, at least you tried, right? At least you finally said it out loud." Shane nodded thoughtfully, figuring anything, at this point, was worth a try.
"I want you to do that. And Shane, I need you to stop beating yourself up over this. You didn't do anything wrong, son, and there's no reason for you to feel guilty for neglecting to say words that maybe you weren't ready for him to hear anyways. But most of all, you've got to start talking to the people who care about you. When you feel everything building up, when it starts to become too much, you need to seek out me or Rick. The last thing you want is for Daryl to find out you ended up in juvie because of him. If he does come back, and I'm still hoping he will, then he's going to need you Shane."
"Alright," Shane acquiesced, "I'll try. Talkin ain't exactly my forte, but, s'not like beatin' people up's been helping much either."
"You're damn right it hasn't," Sheriff Grimes replied sternly, "You need to stop with this hotheaded bullshit. That may be part of who you are, but it's not all of who you are. You understand?"
"Yessir," Shane murmured.
The Sheriff pulled him into a quick, constricting hug, then let the boy wander over to what was still Daryl's room. Shane pulled out his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.