Original prompt: "Beth being secretive about something, Daryl worrying she's upset with him."
It's been a couple weeks since they moved in together into this tiny little apartment, and at first everything had been great. Beth never seemed to find that their new place was probably the size of the living room of her family home alone. She seemed to like the tiny space just because it was theirs. She took special pleasure, it seemed, in going out to the flea market with him or local tag sales, finding the perfect curtains for the bedroom or a rug to put beside their table in the main room, or a little vase to set in the window.
But for the last couple days, things had been… odd. She'd been quieter than usual. She kept slipping away downstairs to 'do laundry' or visit the old woman who lived beneath him, but she was always gone longer than he'd expect, and she was so quiet and secretive when she came back. He couldn't help thinking that she was upset, and he knew why. It was this place. She deserved better and he'd always known it. Oh, Beth would never in her life say it (maybe not even think it), because she was too good for that.
Daryl thought it all the time though. He'd thought it from the moment they'd first seen this place and he'd told her it was all they could afford together. She'd smiled and told him it was perfect, but deep down in his gut he'd wondered if he was dragging her down into the gutter with him and if some day, she might come to resent him for it. He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
It all came to a head one day when she came back from a long 'visit' downstairs. He figured she went down there to avoid him or something, or avoid their apartment anyway. So when she came back up he was waiting, head down, like a dog that deserved to be sent to the dog house in punishment or something. "Look," he muttered, keeping his eyes down on the ground. "I'm sorry, 'bout this place. I know it's too small, I know you deserve better. You don't have to lie no more, you don't have to pretend you're visitin' Mrs. Hensen. You can go out, if you wanna get away, or… or you can move back home."
It was a lot of words for him and frankly, he'd expected more of a reply than he got. But Beth didn't say anything. Instead she just took his had and tugged him after her, right out the door and down the hallway to the stairs. His questioning "Beth?" didn't get any reply the first time or the second, and soon his voice trailed off and he just followed her right down into the basement. There was a long hallway down here, with closed doors to the storage areas that each resident got.
Beth lead him right down to their's, the one with the neat "Apt. 206″ written on it in gold lettering. He hadn't been down here since the day they'd moved in and he'd stored a couple boxes inside. But what he remembered the space looking like was nothing like what he saw when she opened the door and guided him inside.
There had been a desk against the far wall, which had been bare concrete last he remembered. It wasn't, anymore. It had been replaced with a sheet of pegboard, from which all his tools now hung on nails she'd slotted into place. The rest of his tools, including his tool box, sat on the sturdy desk, and in the corner he saw his old spare automotive tool box, the one he brought home from the Auto shop when Dale got them new ones.
But the biggest thing was standing right in the center of the space. Merle's old bike, beat up and half broken from the accident that had gotten him arrested and put into jail for drunk driving.
"I've been fixing it up for the past couple days," Beth's soft voice came from behind him, catching him off guard because he'd gotten so distracted looking the room over. "Tyreese and T-Dog helped me get the bike down here, they said you were storing it at the garage but you hadn't had time to work on it. I thought… maybe you could work on it down here, sometimes." She took a step towards him, peering up at him with a hesitant smile. "I thought maybe you'd like your own space. It's so tiny in that apartment, the two of us living hip to hip. I love every minute of it, Daryl, but I know you're used to living alone. I thought maybe if you had a place to go, it might make it easier…"
Guilt churned in his belly; guilt over doubting her, guilt over thinking she was anything but this… pure, sweet, kind, and so damn loving. It was guilty (and love) that had him gruffly replying, "You make it easier. Don't mind being so close in that tight space with you."
When she smiled he was pretty damn sure she lit up the space even brighter than the light fixture overheard. Clearing his throat against the thickness of unexpected emotion, he added lowly, "Could put the radio over in the corner there, maybe?"
Beth looked up at him with a confused smile. "Why? So you'll have something to listen to, while you work?"
"Nah. So you'll have somethin' to sing along to, when you're done here with me. If you want, anyway."
He didn't even realize she was moving until she hit him harder, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. After a dazed moment, he just chuckled, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin against the top of her head.
If she liked their tiny apartment because it was theirs then well… he liked it because she was in it. She brightened up the world, and in their tiny spaces he could just soak it in as much as he wanted.