97. lonely swings (teenage dirtbag au?!) // @rogueprnce, from here.
It's half an hour to midnight and Daryl still doesn't want to go home.
In Georgia's sweltering summer nights, his father tends to stumble back to their house once he's done drinking. For the rest of the school year Daryl always worried whether the old bastard was safe out there; in the summers between, though, he was always there to meet his son when night fell. Daryl knows why, of course-- between May and August, he gets to work full-time without school bogging him down-- and that reason is what makes going home so hard.
Saving up to go to some community college is a crackpot dream. Daryl knows this. He also knows that it isn't likely he'll go to college at all, and that he's stupid for even entertaining it. But he's got thousands of dollars in savings now, and if he went home his dad would demand for it and piss it all away.
His dirty shoes scuff the ground as the swing moves back and forth. The playground had been an easier stop than the shithole that was his house-- as unreasonable as being out all night is (and if Pa was up when he made it home, he was definitely grabbing the belt), it was still easier than telling his father "no". Loneliness, he finds, suits him just fine.
Which is why the sound of running footsteps startles him.
Daryl turns, fingers curling the slightest bit tighter around the chains to the swing. Tongue wetting his lips, his posture straightens some-- it isn't just anyone out this late, it's Daemon Targaryen.
He says nothing as the other boy comes closer, opting instead to duck his head like making himself small will turn him invisible. Daemon's one of the most notorious kids in school, but as school is wont to do, seeing him out in the real world like this feels almost unreal. Daryl had expected to see him next in the Fall... not that Daemon ever really looked at him, but nevertheless. Hopefully the 7-Eleven uniform makes Daryl blend in with his surroundings.
