It was the same routine every morning. Wake, Eat, Wash & Hunt. She’d
grown so accustom to it. She relied on her routine to get her through the
day. Once she’d finished showering, she wrapped the towel around her
rather battered & bruised torso & moved to the bedroom where her clothes
lay. She wasn’t used to the fact that they smelt fresh, that she even smelt
fresh. Andrea had been so sure that she’d never experience normality ever
again – especially not like this.
It was the first knock that caused her to jump. It had startled her, although
she should have half expected it. She didn’t need to guess who would be
calling for her at this time. Two more knocks & then she hears that familiar
voice, sharp & southern. Daryl. She’s climbing into her clothes in no time
before fleeing down the stairs & to the front door. It’s wide open before he
can even knock or call her name again.
❝ Hey – I was just getting changed. Come in a sec. ❞
She kicks the door open with her foot to allow him access into her home
before turning & heading into the living room.
He’d call it different, this -- the nature of their relationship, how comfortable he’d been in her presence -- but the truth was, over time, this had become normal. And though it was anything but the actual definition of it... in this world, normal had become something else entirely. They’d made it something else and for now, nobody would see him disagreeing with that. To have people by your side these days was something to cherish, but to have people by your side that were there from the very beginning? That was everything. That was Andrea. Strong & brave & everything he never used to be. Everything he’d learnt to be. Much like her, he’d wager.
Daryl never thought he’d have the chance to learn how to be kind -- but a lot had changed since then. And when he’d entered her home, his stride had been casual, hand pushing the door closed softly and turning back to watch her retreating frame. It was fondness, then, that pulled the corners of his mouth upwards -- the kind of warmth that swam through his ribcage and made his shoulders feel restless but in a good way. At least that was how he’d learnt to describe it. Following suit, his hands came to rest in his pockets -- after all, he’d lost track of what to do with them now that dirt didn’t reside under his fingernails.
“ Hey, y’ever get sick o’me showin’ up so early, y’know y’can tell me, right? Ain’t like I’m gonna be mad or nothin’. ” Weight shifting from one foot to the other, he’d found refuge in the frame of the living room door, head tilted, watching her with a concern often mistaken for hesitance. “ Probably best I did, though. Got a lot o’shit some o’these people want. Mostly medical mumbo-jumbo. Ain’t no one else I’d rather bring, y’know? ”
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