The weight of my walls
Summary: After years of surviving together, from the ashes of the farm to the safety of the Commonwealth, Daryl Dixon still hasn't learned how to use his words. But after fourteen days of agonizing silence, the walls he built over a lifetime of fear are finally forced to come down.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Genre: established relationship, slow burn (mild), emotional hurt/comfort.
Word count: 2.5
A/N: This oneshot is an indirect continuation of A Fine Line and Worlds Like Grenades. These stories are part of a project I have in mind, which shows a timeline of Daryl and the Reader's relationship. Even though there is a chronological timeline, I won't be posting them in order; I'm just writing the parts that catch my attention the most right now. I will soon update my masterlist with the official name of this project/series and organize everything in the right order. Hope you enjoy it!
The silence inside the apartment is uncomfortable. The white walls, the old furniture, the intact windows; everything seems way too fake. An illusion of what life out there really is, of what he saw, what he lived through. A big lie, just like it was in the beginning in Alexandria.
Sitting on the chair near the window, Daryl sighs. His hands move the piece of flannel in a trance-like motion over the aluminum track of his crossbow. He has already checked the string tension and the alignment of the bolts twice this afternoon alone, but he refuses to stop and put the weapon down. He needs the cold weight of the metal on his fingers. He needs any mechanical distraction that keeps his thoughts from running to the road outside.
Carol took RJ and Dog to get supplies, and Judith is at the community school. Soon she will arrive, slamming the door and throwing her backpack on the table. But until the kids and the dog come back, he has to deal with the suffocating silence of the apartment for a little longer. From one moment to the next, his eyes shift focus from the crossbow in his hands to the open window right ahead, as if searching for someone. The sun is starting to drop, painting the sky and the houses in orange. An involuntary smile tugs at his lips, and he thinks that she is probably standing in some corner out there looking up at the sky, just like she always does at this hour.
He draws a heavy breath, feeling a tightness in his chest. Fourteen days. Fourteen days staring at this damn window and hearing the ghost of your voice echoing in his head. Still fresh in his memory, as if it were today, seeing you walk out of the house and cross the community gates on a mission that, to him, is completely unnecessary.
"What are we, Daryl?"
The question had been left floating in the air. He didn't know how to answer right then. That old habit of freezing in moments like that, made you head out to the road without a word from him. In his head, he wonders why you even asked that. It's obvious to him that you guys are together, ever since all that shit in Alexandria... isn’t it?
Every passing hour, his mind sabotages his sanity, reminding him that the world out there doesn't forgive hesitation. He almost lost you in the farm fire, almost watched you die in the prison's quarantine block... and now, he has let you walk away out of pure cowardice to say what he feels —out of fear of seeing everything fall apart all over again...
The sudden sound of running in the building's hallway cuts through his train of thought. Daryl tenses his shoulders, but relaxes a second later upon hearing Dog's muffled, happy bark outside. The front door opens with a familiar thud. Judith comes in first, her cheeks flushed with her backpack slung over one shoulder, almost bumping into Carol, who comes right behind her balancing a cardboard box with extra supplies, while RJ tries to hold onto the dog's leash. The apartment, which felt like a tomb just moments ago, is instantly swallowed by voices, heavy footsteps, and the sound of Dog's nails clicking against the floor.
"Hey, Daryl!" Judith exclaims, tossing her backpack onto the dining table with her usual carelessness, exactly as he predicted. She looks at the crossbow in his hand and then at his grim expression. "Is Y/N back yet?"
"Not yet, little girl." He gets up, leaving the crossbow and the flannel on the table. He takes the box from Carol's hands and sets it by the sink.
Daryl feels Carol's eyes on him, but they don't say anything. Carol notices the tension and how much he misses you.
"Dinner will be ready soon. RJ, go wash your hands. Judith, help your brother, sweetheart." She smiles at the kids.
Daryl forces himself to participate in the routine. He eats dinner with them on autopilot, answers Judith’s questions about trackin' in the woods, and even shares a piece of jerky with Dog under the table. But his mind keeps drifting back to you.
The hours in the Commonwealth seem to move differently, dragged out and suffocating. Soon, the night falls completely, bringing a quiet chill inside the apartment. Carol says goodnight and heads to her own quarters, and Daryl helps put the kids to bed. He covers RJ, leaves a gentle kiss on the top of Judith’s head, and closes their bedroom door with the utmost care, leaving just a crack of light spilling into the hallway.
The apartment goes back to being a desert.
Without turning on a single lamp so he won't wake the little ones, Daryl goes to take a shower. Something he does more often now because of you; you complain too much when he tries to go to sleep without taking a shower, saying he is going to get dirt all over the clean sheets. As the hot water hits his shoulders, he counts the days on the wet tiles of the wall.
Maybe she’ll get here tomorrow morning, or sometime in the afternoon...
He shuts off the valve, sighing heavily, and puts on some comfortable pants and a dark shirt. Leaving the shower, Daryl walks silently down the hallway and enters your bedroom. The space feels too big and too cold without you here. Dog is already lying at the foot of the bed on his mat. Daryl sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the light, neatly made sheets in the dim light. He rubs a hand over his face, exhausted.
It is already past one in the morning when Dog snaps his head up with a start, his pointed ears pricking up in the dark room. The dog lets out a low, barely noticeable growl and quickly gets to his feet. Daryl freezes on the edge of the bed, his heart giving a violent thud against his ribs. The metallic click of the key turning in the living room lock sounds like thunder in the silence of the night. His fingers press into the sheet tightly. Six seconds pass, the key turns again, and he stands up.
"You still awake, boy... I'm home," Daryl hears your tired but still radiant voice from the hallway.
Daryl stops right at the beginning of the hallway. His blue eyes scan your silhouette from head to toe. Dog circles the two of you, barking happily, and Daryl mutters for him to quiet down. The dog obeys, trotting over to lay down on a cushion in the living room. Daryl leans against the doorframe, watching you, as a massive wave of relief washes over his body.
"You took your damn time" he whispers. His voice comes out rough.
You drop your backpack on the floor with a dull thud and step closer to him, resting your head against Daryl's chest.
"The truck broke down on the way back and we had to walk for miles..." You breathe in his scent. "You smell like soap."
Daryl wraps his arms around you. He buries the tip of his nose in your hair, pulling you tighter into the hug.
"You complain too much 'bout the sheets," he mutters into your hair. "And it's stupid comin' back at night. Shoulda waited till dawn." He lets you go.
"I wanted to get back home right away." You look up at him.
"Still. It was a damn unnecessary risk."
He doesn't want to fight, but he is a mix of emotions ever since you stepped foot outside to go on this mission. He doesn't know if he is pissed off because you doubt your relationship, pissed off because you got back late at night, or because he hadn't been clearer with you before.
"I'm gonna take a shower. "
You brush past him, visibly annoyed, shutting the bathroom door. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, Daryl curses under his breath. Damn it, Dixon. Walking back into the bedroom, he stops in front of the window. The sound of the pipes rattling echoes through the apartment at times. Fourteen days without seeing you, thinking the worst; and the first thing he does when you get back is pick a fight. But what is eating him alive inside is that question. The pipes stop rattling. The shower is over. He bites his right thumb, nervous.
Daryl hears your footsteps entering the room, hears the sound of the drawer.
"Why'd ya ask that?" He doesn't turn around.
" What?"
"Before ya left. Before crossin' that damn gate." Daryl finally turns to face you. "What are we, Daryl? ". Why'd ya ask that again?" He steps closer, noticing your tense posture.
"Because you never say anything, Daryl. You used to vanish before sunrise back in Alexandria, you build walls every single time I try to get too close... I needed to know where I stood before heading out to the road... especially now that we're taking care of Rick's kids."
"Ain't it obvious?"
His voice wavers in a tense whisper so he won't wake the kids in the next room. He holds your face with both hands, his calloused fingers trembling slightly against your soft skin.
"To me, it's always been obvious that we're together. Since all that shit in Alexandria... since always. I ain't good with these fuckin' words, ya know that. I didn't stay quiet to be mean. It was... fear. Just damn fear."
You furrow your brow, touching his wrists.
"Fear of what, Daryl? Of us?"
"Fear of ev'rything falling apart again!" The confession finally comes out in a painful breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second.
"Look back. Think about it... Every time we try to take a step forward, every time I let us get too close, the world comes around and kicks me right in the teeth. Back at the farm, when things were finally gonna happen between us, that fuckin' fire happened. At the prison, when I thought we had a real shot at settling down, the flu and the Governor came along. And Alexandria... Negan showed up and turned ev'rything into hell."
He opens his eyes, and the vulnerability there is almost raw.
"You said you loved me, Daryl" you interrupt him, your voice cracking slightly, remembering that night. "You said it... and then you went right back to acting like normal. Like nothing changed. We live together, Daryl, but we’re stuck in this agonizing limbo, and I'm left drowning in doubt, never knowing what we actually are."
"Because I thought if I stayed quiet, if I pretended it wasn’t a big deal, the universe wouldn't notice ya!" his voice breaks, taking an involuntary step closer. "I thought I’d keep ya safe if I didn't say anything else. This place... this whole Commonwealth thing, it looks pretty, but all I see is another target. I'm terrified it’s gonna fall just like the prison, just like Alexandria, just like everywhere else."
His gaze locks onto yours, the intensity there silencing anything you might have wanted to say. Daryl can see the shock in your eyes, but he can't stop now. The words are pouring out like a broken dam, and he needs to get it all out.
"In every damn place, the world finds a way to take away what I wanna protect the most. But I spent fourteen days starin' at that damn window thinkin' my cowardice made ya leave without knowin'... " He presses his forehead against yours, breath coming hard. "I don't wanna live like this anymore. I wanna change this. I want ya, fuck everything else. If the world's gonna fall apart again, it's gonna fall apart with us together."
You blink, feeling your eyes well up with tears at all that vulnerability he spent years hiding beneath his leather vest. Your hands move up to his shoulders, pulling him even closer, erasing any remaining distance.
"We always find a way, Daryl" you whisper, your voice steady, keeping your forehead pressed against his. "We survived the farm, the prison, and Negan. Together. If anything happens again, we're gonna fight, because that's what we do. I'm not going anywhere."
Daryl chuckles softly at your words, his shoulders finally relaxing under your hands. If it were the old him, he would've called you an idiot, a stupid dreamer, but the him of now sees things differently and has learned to live with your comfort-exuding personality. You slide your fingers up his neck, gently caressing his skin.
"I'm sorry... " you murmur sincerely, looking into his blue eyes. "Sorry for making you so tense, and for leaving like that before the trip. I just wanted some certainty."
"You got it now, " Daryl responds, his voice lower and raspy, his eyes dropping to your mouth. "Don't ya ever doubt it again, ya hear me?"
You nod with a half-smile, and he doesn't wait any longer. Daryl seals your lips in an urgent kiss, yet one filled with a deep tenderness. There is no longer the rush of despair, only the pure relief of having you right there; clean, safe, and in his arms.
His calloused hands slide down your neck, caressing your soft skin as the kiss deepens, slow and warm. Daryl carefully guides you toward the mattress, laying you down on the light sheets he protected so much from the dirt of his patrol clothes.
As he climbs onto the mattress over you, propping his weight on his elbows so he won't crush you, the rustle of the fabric and your heavy breathing are the only sounds left in the room.
For him, that moment holds a weight unlike anything they have ever experienced. In the forest, or in the dark corners of Alexandria, they were always surrounded by a fog of urgency, as if they only had seconds before the world tore them apart again. He always touched you with a hidden haste, wanting to etch your presence into him before any disaster struck.
But here? Here, the silence of the apartment is safe. He feels at peace. He is in no hurry. He watches the way your breathing changes under his touch, how your skin prickles when he leaves a trail of slow, almost reverent kisses along the curve of your neck.
When he lightly pulls your hair, just enough for your body to arch against his, Daryl sees the way your eyes close in complete surrender. That disarms him. He is no longer just the hunter, the protector, or the quiet man; in that bedroom, he is entirely yours.
The scent of soap and the physical contact make the rest of the world fade away completely outside. Inside, in the dim light of the Commonwealth apartment, you are finally home. And this time, he's not gonna run when the sun rises, because he doesn't need anymore.
