Lana Del Rey is officially the artists for this story, her songs just fits everything.

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to your finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine
Walking through the city streets
Is it by mistake or design?
I feel so alone on a Friday night
Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you're mine?
It's like I told you, honey

Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

Chapter 26 - Mine

You stand at your locker, enveloped by the familiar buzz of conversation and the aroma of freshly sharpened pencils, struggling to come to terms with the fact that summer is over. It feels like a mere blink of an eye, and now, with the first week of senior year of high school in full swing, reality is starting to sink in. This year is crucial, as it will determine how you might shape your future, and you can't help feeling anxious.

But that isn't the only reason this year is different. You have a boyfriend now, or so you think. Lately, there has been endless hand-holding and gentle kisses at the end of the day, and you feel like you have won the jackpot. You have never trusted or given yourself to anyone like this before, and every waking moment is spent thinking about him, or being with him. Daryl seems genuinely open with you, and you can see it in his face that he isn't holding back. You hope this is a sign that he wants to take your relationship one step further, even though nothing has been explicitly stated.

Your gaze drifts to the new class schedule taped inside your locker, and you scan it quickly, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension as you take in the challenging courses you have enrolled in. AP chemistry, advanced calculus, and AP biology are all part of your schedule this year, and you know you will have to work harder than ever before to keep up.

Lost in thought, you grab your syllabus for the next class absentmindedly and slam your locker shut. As you turn to leave, you collide with someone. You look up to see your history teacher, Mr. Robertson, smiling down at you. "Ah, Miss Hart, sorry about that," he says. "I didn't mean to startle you."

You smile back, but inwardly you dreadfully let out a sigh. "It's okay, Mr. Robertson," you reply. "I was just lost in thought." For whatever reason, every time he sees you, Mr. Robertson seems to love to chat your ears off, and you have been late to classes numerous times because of him.

"It's the first week of senior year," Mr. Robertson muses wistfully. "I remember it well. So many hopes and dreams for the future." You hum in agreement, scanning the hallway for an excuse to escape.

"Speaking of the future," he continues, pulling out his wallet. "Have I shown you pictures of my grandkids yet?" You fight the urge to scream in frustration. Yes, you have seen them many, many times before. As he has mentioned in the past, Mr. Robertson should be retired by now, but he is unable to do so because his son is in jail for tax evasion, and his daughter-in-law is no longer in the picture, leaving him and his wife to care for their two grandchildren. Despite the added responsibilities, he seems content, and the kids give him a reason to wake up every morning.

He proudly flips through his wallet, showing you pictures of his two little boys. "This is Ethan, and this is Caleb," he says, beaming with pride. "They're my entire world."

You smile at Mr. Robertson, admiring the photos of the adorable boys that you've seen grow up in all the age progression pictures. "They're adorable," you remark for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Ethan just turned three," he replies, flipping to another photo of the youngest boy. "They grow up so quickly, you know?" You nod in agreement, shuffling your feet as the bell goes off, signaling the start of the school day.

"Look at the time," you say, taking a step back. "I can't be late on the first week." Without waiting for him to respond, you wave goodbye to Mr. Robertson and dash off to your next class.

As you hurry toward your class, you catch sight of Daryl at his locker. You are surprised to see him since he had mentioned dropping out this year, but you feel pleased that he is making an effort to attend.

Part of you wants to stop by and say hello, but you know that doing so would attract attention and possibly spark rumors, given the differences in your social statuses on the school grounds. You also remember how much Daryl dislikes crowds and unwanted attention.

So, you zoom past him without stopping, but you can't resist giving him a playful wink and an air kiss. You chuckle as you catch his bashful expression before continuing on your way to class.

The warmth of the sun envelops you both as a gentle breeze tousles your hair. Amidst the distant sounds of laughter and chatter from other students, Daryl lies with a lit cigarette between his fingers, sprawled across, head on your lap. It was easy to locate him now that you know his go-to spot, so here you are sitting on the bleachers, the empty athletic field open before you. The turkey sandwiches you brought along were devoured in no time, and a bag of chips lies on Daryl's stomach, which both of you reach for intermittently.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife," you read aloud from Pride and Prejudice, a book you're assigned in your English literature class.

Your fingers delicately run through Daryl's hair, your thoughts lost in the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Daryl listens intently, exhaling a cloud of smoke every now and then. His closed eyes and parted lips give the impression of peacefulness, and you feel content in the moment. The pages of the book turn effortlessly as you become fully immersed in the story, and you sense Daryl's gaze on you, observing your every movement. He's always seems fascinated by the way you lose yourself in a book, forgetting everything else around you. His fingers brush against your knee, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

As you flip to the next page, Daryl's low and husky voice breaks the silence. "He seems like an asshole." You glance down at him, noticing his tousled hair and lazy grin.

"Well, he seems like somebody I know," you say in a playfully retort, flicking his forehead. "Mr. Darcy."

Daryl scoffs, taking another pull from his cigarette. "Me? Ain't no way," he declares.

You laugh at his response. "Handsome, stubborn, but with a heart of gold," you count on your fingers with each description. Daryl gives you a skeptical look.

"If anything, you're like Elizabeth Bennet," He say, "smarty pants, bookworm, and talks out of her ass a lot," he teases, and you smack him in the chest, causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

"Oh, you must mean beautiful, independent, and not afraid to speak her mind," you retort, closing your book and slipping it into your backpack beside your feet.

Daryl lets out a chuckle. "Sure thin'," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

You shake your head, playfully scowling at him. "That's it, no more reading for you," you say, gazing into his half-opened eyes. In response, he reaches out to caress your cheek, and the simple gesture fills you with emotion.

"Nah, I like listenin' t' you read," Daryl says, looking up at you. "Yer voice is warm and peaceful."

Surprised by his comment, you raise an eyebrow. "Keep talking sweet to me like that, and maybe I'll read you the entire book," you laugh teasingly. His fingers continue to stroke your hair, and you close your eyes, savoring the intimate moment.

When he lightly pulls on the back of your neck, you fall into him, pressing your lips to his. His neck strains up to return the kiss, and his tongue flicking past your lips ignites a spark of electricity in your entire being. You wrap your arms around him, deepening the connection. Lost to the world but only for him, it feels as though you're in a different biosphere, far removed from the chaos of the schoolyard.

The bell rings, and you pull back, smiling as you feel a deep connection to him, a sense of closeness and vulnerability as you look down into these blue of his eyes. "Take me on a ride later?" you ask as you both get up, and he watches you throw your backpack over your shoulder. He nods and pulls you by the strips of your backpack to press his lips to yours one more time.

With a laugh, you pull away from the kiss and realize just how much you've been craving this kind of intimacy. Daryl is someone you can be yourself with truly, someone who understands you on a level that no one else does. Despite your differences, you're drawn to him in a way that you can't explain.

"Turn left here," Daryl instructs and you glance over at him. Your plans for a ride are foiled before they even begin when Daryl's motorcycle chain breaks down in the school parking lot. Apparently, this is a common occurrence, and Daryl explains that the chain needs to be replaced rather than repaired. You offer to drive him to the local auto store to get a new chain, and after finding the right one to fit his bike, it was already dark outside.

It doesn't take much convincing to get him to leave his bike at the school parking lot to be fixed the next day, and you offer to drive him home. "Right here is fine," he says as you pull over in the middle of the street, surrounded by nothing but trees.

"But there's nothing here," you reply, still looking around.

"It's just a tad bit further down the road, but it ain't too far of a walk," he hesitates, with an expression you can't decipher. "It's nothin' but dirt road from here."

"It's no problem, I'll drive," you reassure him, but he cuts you off.

"I'm good here," he smiles and reaches over to pinch your cheeks. You smack his hand away with a laugh, aware that this is a tactic to distract you from your thoughts.

As he opens the car door to leave, you call out to him, "Hey, did you forget something?" He looks back at you, displaying that same strange expression.

He scans the area as if looking for something, his body unusually tense. "You're such big ol' baby," he says as he leans in to kiss you. You hold onto his shirt with both hands, keeping him close, and smile as he tries to pull away. Your lips chase after him with a laugh, as he pulls away and shuts the door. With a quick wave, you watch him disappear into the darkness.

As you spin the car around, a knot forms in your stomach. You navigate the streets robotically, unable to shake the feeling that Daryl is keeping something from you. Just this morning, you had felt like you were on top of the world - the boy you love seemed to genuinely care for you, and your relationship had crossed some kind of barrier. But now, as you sit at the red light, staring blankly at the steering wheel, your instinct is telling you something is off. Why wouldn't he want you to drop him at his doorstep, if it's only a stone's throw away? He had promised to be more transparent with you. So, what is he hiding?

You bite your lip as the light turns green, and you jerk the car, making a sudden U-turn, listening to the nagging voice in the back of your mind, urging you to investigate further. You drive back to where you had dropped him off earlier, feeling unsure if this is the right decision. As you navigate the dark streets, you arrive at the spot where Daryl had requested to be dropped off. Just like he indicated, a dirt road appears a little further down, with the trees parting, and you see illuminating lights up ahead.

As you drive farther, you take in the bleak scene before you, a wave of apprehension washing over you. The rows of decrepit trailers, evenly spaced apart, seem to emit an aura of hopelessness and destitution that hangs heavy in the air. You can't help but wonder if this is something Daryl was trying to shield you from, perhaps out of a sense of shame. Yet, you can't help but hope that's not the case, as based on what he's shared with you, you had already put together he may be living in impoverished conditions.

Slowly navigating your way through the narrow roads, your eyes scan the area for any signs of Daryl's whereabouts. As you drive past the various trailers, your attention is drawn to a familiar motorcycle parked outside one of the homes. The shiny block body and chrome handles confirm it's Merle's bike, which you remember riding to the beach with Daryl. The pile of motorcycle parts and scattered metal around the yard confirms you've found the right place.

After parking your car, you step out, feeling the soft earth sink beneath your feet. The air is thick with the smell of gasoline and oil, and you can hear laughter and chatter in the distance. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself for what's to come.

Approaching the trailer with determination, you peer through the window facing towards your car, wondering if you should knock. However, as you make out Daryl's silhouette in the shadows of the dimly lit interior, you lose all your bravado. You let out a sigh, questioning your motives for even being there. Why not just ask him tomorrow? You beat yourself up for not being more direct.

Feeling defeated, you step back and collide with what feels like a wall. When you turn, your eyes go wide as you look up at a large man dressed in leather with a tattooed face. He towers over you, his breath reeking of alcohol as he leers at you. "Howdy there," he says with a smirk, "Well, ain't you just the cutest little blossom I ever did see! You're just the kind of sweet thing that catches my eye."

Your scream could wake the dead, and in that split second, your instincts take over as you knee him in the groin. He cusses and falls to the ground, writhing in pain. However, your scream has attracted more attention, and soon, more similarly imposing men appear. You press your back to the trailer, watching them check on their fallen friend, laughing at his pain.

"Who da fuck are you?" one of the men asks as he grabs you and drags you forward. You struggle to free your arm from his grip, but it's no use as he leads you towards the back. You hope that Daryl has heard you and will come to your rescue. As you turn the corner behind the trailer, you're met with a group of men in leather jackets sitting around a fire pit on mismatched seats.

"Yo, Merle, looks like you got yourself a visitor," the man hollers, "and she nailed ol' Big Bob right where it hurts, smack dab in the family jewels!" He laughs.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here. Ain't you a pretty little thang?" Its only then you finally come face to face with a name you know so well - the name you heard in school and from his brother. "And who might you be sweet cheeks?" the man who you assume is Merle, asks. He is tall, muscular, and physically imposing, wearing a leather vest, sleeveless shirt, and a red bandana around his head, giving him a biker-like appearance. On his upper arm, you can see a Confederate flag tattoo sticking out. As you look around, you realize this must be the biker gang Daryl briefly mentioned to you.

"I'm Alice Hart, and I'm here to see Daryl," You announce to the man standing in front of you, before taking a step back as he looms too close for comfort. His gaze travels up and down your form, taking in your pink sundress and white wedges. "Daryl," he repeats incredulously, "and what's it ya want with my brother?" His eyes carry the same disdainful look that Daryl had given you the first time you were face to face with him in biology class, as if you were some sort of entitled brat.

Just as you brace yourself for a confrontation, Daryl's voice echoes from somewhere behind the man. "What the hell is all that ruckus?"

Refusing to be intimidated by the older Dixon, you meet his steely gaze with a blank expression, emulating the same stoic demeanor your father often displays. After a tense moment, you tentatively step aside to reveal yourself to Daryl.

When Daryl lays eyes on you, his expression morphs into one of shock. "What the fuck," he exclaims, bolting toward you.

"Merle, she with me, man, back off," Daryl demands, attempting to push past his brother and reach for your hand.

But Merle steps forward, effectively blocking your path, and challenges you. "Nah, let her answer the question, I reckon we oughta hear what she's gotta say," he taunts, his cocky smirk infuriating you.

Something about his voice and demeanor ignites a fiery anger within you, and you pull your hand away from Daryl's grasp, striding boldly into Merle's personal space. You refuse to be bullied by him, and you realize that he's nothing like his younger brother.

"I'm his girlfriend, so that's between me and him," you retort, glaring at Merle as if he's sour milk. "And none of your business," you add, feeling uncertain as to why you even said that. After all, Daryl had never officially defined your relationship status.

"Girlfriend!" Merle hollers, and you can hear the amusement in the other men's snickers. You're too scared to look at Daryl, but from the corner of your eye, you can see that he's frozen in place.

"You gotchu yourself a girlfriend, huh?" the elder Dixon heckles, slinging his arm over Daryl's shoulder. "Yep, she's a real southern belle, a debutante kinda bitch, too," he adds with a teasing grin, and Daryl shoves him off.

But Merle's laughter only grows louder, and his attention turns back to you. He scrutinizes you from head to toe once more, making you feel like a piece of merchandise on display. "I never woulda thought you had it in ya, Darlina," he says, slowly circling around you. "Ahh so, this is whatcha like," he adds, reaching out to touch your hair from behind. He then circles back around to face you, smirking. "I ain't expect ya to go for a piece of ass like this."

You refuse to let Merle's words and actions get to you, at least until he grabs your chin to force your head up. With a swift movement, you slap his hand away and hiss, "Do not touch me."

"Come on, man," Daryl interjects, trying to defuse the situation.

"Oh, spicy, ain't ya?" Merle just laughs, shoving his younger brother aside as he looms over you. You stand your ground, giving him an unflinching, nonchalant look. He seems to find your boldness amusing, even as he breathes his alcoholic breath on you.

"Back the hell off my face," you growl, scowling at Merle. Your voice is firm as you continue, "And do not touch me without permission."

Merle doesn't budge, only a sly smirk on his face as he speaks, "I don't know what my brother's been feedin' ya, little girl, but you're trespassin' on my land." His eyes gleam with a wicked intent, "And round here, I do what I damn well please."

"I dare you then," you retort fearlessly, despite his imposing stature. At that moment, it's like everything your father had taught you kicked in and you refuse to be intimidated. "Go ahead," you challenge him, leaning in closer. Speaking just loud enough for him to hear, you add, "But know that you're looking at the DA's only child. Lay a finger on me and you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars, serving as someone's prison bitch." You whisper the words, not wanting to put him on the spot in front of his friends. "And I promise you, my father will make sure you bend over," you finish, leaning back with a slow smirk on your lips. Merle's eyes widen and he scans you up and down, as if just remembering something.

Recognition finally dawns on Merle's face, and you realize that Daryl may have mentioned you to him. In fact, you recall Daryl telling you about how he couldn't wait to tell his brother that the DA's daughter was helping him with his assignments during your library days.

Merle's reaction is immediate. He roughly grabs you by the arms and his other hand clasps onto the back of Daryl's neck. "Y'all have fun now. Put some ice on Bob's nuts!" he shouts out to his friends as he pulls you both in the direction you came from.

Once out of sight, Merle tosses you to the side, but slams Daryl against the front of the trailer home. "You brought the DA's daughter here, knowin' full well what kinda business we're in?!" he spits angrily into Daryl's face, referring to his drug selling business. "What in the blue blazes were you thinkin'?!"

Daryl snaps back defensively, "I ain't brought her here, she followed me." He says trying to reassure the skeptical Merle, "but she's cool." You step forward to back up Daryl's words, but Merle isn't convinced.

"She's cool," he laughs, though his expression reveals that he isn't amused. "I'm on probation, and I'm s'posed to take yer' word for it," he says, before throwing a punch that lands in Daryl's gut, causing him to double over in pain.

"Hey!" you exclaim, shoving your elbow into Merle with all your might. "Don't fucking touch him." You position yourself in front of Daryl, hoping that Merle won't swing on you too.

"Listen here, girly," Merle says, waving his finger and shooing you away. "I let the disrespect slide earlier 'cause you got some real balls, but I don't take kindly to threats. How 'bout you step aside and let us handle our business like men, brother to brother?"

"I don't care what you do here, you have my word on that," you tell him firmly. "But, he's mine, so his business is my business."

Merle pulls his head back to look at you in surprise before erupting in laughter. "Yours?" he hollers, holding his stomach. "Just what kind of dick you've spittin' to her to get her all riled up like this, little brother?"

"It ain't like that," Daryl interjects from behind you, having regained his composure after the blow. Just then, someone calls out Merle's name, and the older Dixon turns his attention away from you.

"Get her outta here," he dismisses you both with a hiss, motioning for you to leave. Daryl takes hold of your arms and leads you towards the car parked not too far away. "Her's, that's some funny shit I've heard all year," you can hear Merle muttering to himself like he finds the situation hilarious as he walks away.

As you walk in silence, Daryl suddenly shoves his hand into your dress pocket and pulls out your car keys. "What the hell are you doin' here?" he hisses at you.

You bite your bottom lip, feeling ashamed. "I don't know," you whisper. "I just felt like you were hiding something from me."

Daryl looks at you incredulously. "So what, you don't trust me or somethin'?" he questions. "I wasn't hidin' from you. I was just tryin' to keep you away from that mess." he gestures towards where you had just been.

You reach out to grasp his hand, holding it to your chest as you step closer to him. "I'm sorry, I really am," you plead with him. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's all good," he reassures you, "let's just get ya home." He opens the door to the car, and you hesitate for a moment, uncertain if he's still angry with you. But you nod and step into the vehicle.

As soon as the door closes, you roll down the window and look up at Daryl. "You're not mad, are you?" you ask, searching his eyes.

"Nah, just get home safe," he says, leaning in to give you a kiss on the forehead before stepping back.

You let out a sigh, knowing he might say that now, but you're not out of the woods. With a disheartened wave, you start the car and drive off, hoping to get home before your parents start worrying.

You're just on the verge of drifting off to sleep when you're jolted awake by the sound of tapping on your window. You lift your head to confirm that it's not just your imagination, and sure enough, you hear it again. Excitedly, you hop out of bed, knowing exactly who could be on the other side of the window.

Peering out into the darkness through your curtains, you spot Daryl as expected. You open your curtains and push the window up. "Hi," you whisper with a smile.

Daryl waves back at you, his face troubled. "Come on up," you tell him, motioning to the shed. As usual, it doesn't take him long to set up the ladder and climb through the opening.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him, giving him a once-over to make sure he's okay. He looks fine, and you hope his brother didn't lay a hand on him again. There's a moment of silence as he looks around your room, as if he's transported to another world every time he steps inside.

"What ya said earlier, about us," he begins to question, "you mean that?"

You look at him with a probing expression. "Which part?" you ask, unsure of what he's referring to. He simply waves his hand, gesturing for you to understand. As you study his face, you notice his ears turning red, and finally the realization hits you.

"Oh, that," you say, stepping closer with a warm smile. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck. "Am I not your girl?" you ask, laughing, understanding that he's here to confirm your earlier declaration about you being his girlfriend.

He looks at you intently, his gaze roaming over your face, and he grabs the silk of your pajama to pull you closer. You laugh, but it's cut short when he tilts your head to the side and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. His lips are warm and soft, and you part your lips slightly to let his tongue slip between them. You hum contentedly as your fingers tighten, and he deepens the kiss. You find yourself unable to resist, feeling the heat of his body deep in your soul.

"It's a school night," you remind him, your lips planting soft kisses on his neck. "Why don't you stay with me tonight?" you suggest, stepping back. He looks at you, then at the bed, and nods in agreement.

Happily, you climb back into bed, watching him settle on the other side. As you lay on his chest, content in his embrace, you realize that you might be totally forgiven for the buffoonery you pulled earlier. You allow yourself to relax, feeling the warmth of his breath on your neck, and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.