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The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and with it, the end of the semester before winter break. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he wasn’t looking forward to spending the next three weeks dealing with his dad, at least he didn’t have to deal with seven teachers and a dean breathing down his neck every day, hounding him about his grades for the thousandth time.
Daryl knew he wasn’t doing too hot. He’d already gotten held back in his junior year once, and now that he was finally a senior, he didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn’t stupid, he just wasn’t very interested. Anytime he tried to study, his mind would wander to other things, and the times he was able to concentrate, he would usually be interrupted by his father.
They’d gotten their final report cards for the term early that week, and it wasn’t promising. His highest grades were in P.E. and shop; he was pulling Bs in both. He had a C in algebra and C- in history, which was okay too. But his D+ in chemistry and his D- in English were a problem. He told himself that it would be fine. He still technically passed all this classes this semester, even if in English he'd squeaked through by less than one point. He had a whole half of a year to turn things around, after all, and he just needed to pass, and he’d get the fuck out of this shithole town.
Daryl had wanted to move to Atlanta from Conyers for years now. The city was only thirty miles away, but it may as well have been on the moon for the likes of him. He’d never even been there to visit. The worst part was, since he'd repeated a grade, he was almost 19 now, and still stuck at home. He worked on cars for old man Horvath on weekends and the occasional evening, and he’d been saving money for a long time. He'd had to hide it at first, of course, his dad would take it and spend it on booze and blow and probably beat the shit out of Daryl for keeping it from him. When he turned 18, he was finally old enough to have his own bank account that couldn’t be accessed by Will. Daryl knew he couldn’t leave town until he graduated. He was determined to stick it out, though he had considered getting an apartment to live in his senior year. However, he’d finally decided that it wasn’t worth spending his savings he’d been working so hard on. Will was an abusive, alcoholic fuck, and he treated Daryl worse now that Merle was no longer around to pound on, but Daryl had handled it for this long. One more year wouldn’t kill him (at least he hoped not).
Daryl gathered his things and walked out into the hallway, heading in the direction of his locker. Most of the shit in it was gonna get thrown away, but he had a miniature working engine he'd made for shop in there too. He'd never admit it out loud, but Daryl was pretty damn proud of it and wanted to keep it. He'd just have to keep it away from Will.
He got to his locker, but before he could even begin dialing the combination, a stern voice spoke up behind him.
"Mr. Dixon."
Daryl tried not to flinch and failed. He'd recognize Mr. Grimes' voice anywhere. The school counselor had taken a special interest in Daryl since he'd started working there the year before. Why was a complete mystery to him. Grimes simply said he saw "potential" in him. Daryl actually liked him quite a bit. He was smart and funny. He was also very kind, but he didn't take any shit from his students, least of all Daryl.
Daryl braced himself and turned around.
"Can I help you?"
Grimes gave him a look. "You can help yourself."
"I dunno what you're talking about," Daryl began to turn away again, but Grimes' hand on his arm stopped him.
"I need you to come to my office Daryl. We need to talk."
Daryl rolled his eyes and shrugged the hand off. "Hell no, semester's over. Ain't nothing to talk about until January."
Grimes' smile was humorless. "That's where you're wrong. Come with me."
***
The trek to Grimes' office felt much longer than it actually was. Daryl felt nervous; the counselor had a way of intimidating students, and Daryl was no exception. He was pretty sure he knew what this was about, and he grew preemptively defensive. By the time they reached the guidance office, Daryl was vibrating out of his skin and ready to throw his backpack across the room.
"Have a seat."
And oh, Jesus Christ, Grimes had taken out his file. In spite of his reputation, Daryl wasn't much of a troublemaker, but the file was still thicker than normal since every asshole with something to prove always tried to pick a fight with him. It was definitely the Dixon name, Merle's shitty legacy passed onto him.
Daryl threw himself carelessly into his chair and looked as bored as possible. Grimes' one raised brow showed he wasn't buying it, but he didn't comment on the attitude. Instead, he opened the file and removed the top sheet, letting it flutter to the desk.
Unsurprisingly, it was his final report card for the semester.
"Daryl, you mind telling me what this is?" And the stern look had returned.
"Looks like a piece of paper to me,” Daryl said petulantly.
Grimes sighed. “This is going to be a lot easier if you could drop the sarcasm, kid. It’s your report card. And let me be the first to congratulate you on pulling average or above in most of your classes. You’ve certainly improved from last year. But your grades in English and Chem aren’t going to cut it, I’m afraid.”
"I ain’t failing neither of them.”
“No. No, not yet, but a ‘D’ is far to close to a failing grade. One poor paper or bombed test would put you there, and I think that’s a risk you don’t want to take. Am I right?”
Daryl shrugged. “Yeah, man, but what do you want me to do? It ain’t like I don’t try, but I’ve never been good at studying and writing papers. And I don’t like reading.”
“I realize that, Daryl, but those reasons, while valid, aren’t going to net you a passing grade. And I know how much you want to be the first Dixon to earn a high school diploma.”
Daryl blushed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Grimes smiled at him fondly. “You’re a good kid, Daryl, and I know that you’ve been applying yourself. I think you just need a little extra help is all. Trust me, I want you to make it out of here as much as you want to.”
Daryl grew suspicious. “Extra help. What, like special ed?”
“No, Daryl. You don’t have a learning disability. You’ve got a lack of interest and a lack of good study skills. I’m assigning you a tutor.”
Daryl sputtered in protest. “No fuckin’ way.”
“Language, please. And yes fuckin’ way.”
“Rick,” Daryl pleaded, ignoring Grimes’ look of resigned exasperation at the use of his first name, “No one at this school likes me. No one. You're never gonna find someone even willing to tutor me, much less someone who will actually be able to help.”
Daryl’s heart dropped a little at Grimes’ smug answering grin. “Wrong again, Daryl. I already have. He volunteered willingly. And he likes everyone, at least everyone who deserves it. Trust me.”
His heart sank further. There was no way he was getting out of this, was there? Now he was going to have to spend the rest of his senior year hanging out with some nerd looking for extra credit toward his college applications. He didn’t want to be anyone’s project. He accepted Grimes’ fatherly concern, because he liked him and missed getting that from home, but he didn’t need another student trying to make him something he wasn’t. He said as much to Grimes.
“That’s not what’s happening, Daryl. You’re not anyone’s pet project. You’re a smart kid who just needs a little extra help is all. And Paul is a straight-A student- “
“Stop.” Daryl tamped down a wave of panic. There were at least 6 Pauls in his class, so what were the odds? “Paul?”
“Yeah, Paul Rovia, I’m sure you know him. He’s got a 4.3 GPA, and he jumped at the chance to help when I was talking to him.”
Daryl was angry now; later he could deal with the rising alarm knowing Paul fucking Rovia would be tutoring him. “Why the hell were you talking to him about me in the first place? I don’t even know the guy!” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
Grimes gave a long-suffering sigh, used to dealing with Daryl’s frequent outbursts by now. “Because, Daryl, I do know the guy. Paul is an incredibly smart and caring individual. He’s the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back.” He paused and fixed Daryl with a knowing look. “You’re that kind of guy too, you know. Only you haven’t had much opportunity in your life to show it yet.”
Daryl looked at his feet, feeling suddenly shy.
“Look, I knew you needed help, and I thought you and Paul might hit it off; possibly could even become friends someday if your attitude doesn’t scare him away first,” he chuckled. “It’s happening, Daryl, whether you like it or not. But, lucky for you, it’s not happening until after break is over.”
Daryl couldn’t keep the relief off his face. He’d been worried he was going to spend his entire time off school hitting the books.
“Next semester will be a fresh start.” Grimes handed Daryl a card with Paul’s number written on it. “Get ahold of him sometime during break and set something up for January." Daryl took the card gingerly, as though it were a bomb set to go off at any moment. Hell, it may as well be, he thought. Grimes clapped Daryl on the back and smiled. “Get the hell outta here, kid. Enjoy your vacation.”
Yeah, right.
***
Here’s the thing: Daryl didn’t know Paul. He knew of him, of course; his class size was around 300, but the town wasn’t very big, and everyone grew up together. Paul was one of the only people who didn’t grow up there, and the moment he arrived in Conyers the year before, he’d stuck out like a sore thumb. He was all floppy hair and liberal politics and way too mature for his age. He’d clearly been through some things; you could sense that just looking at him, although he never seemed to drop the jovial snark in public. Daryl had learned from the frequent curious whispers surrounding him that Paul had grown up in a group home after losing his parents at age 11. He was emancipated from the system at 17 and wanted a fresh start. Daryl had no idea how the hell Paul had ended up in a small town in the deep south, or why he’d want to be there, but there he was.
And did he ever make an immediate impression. Paul wasn’t at the school for more than two weeks before he spearheaded a campaign to start a Gay Straight Alliance club, which he dubbed the Rainbow Club. Principal Monroe was clearly hesitant at first, because while mostly fair and diplomatic, she also understood the reality of where they lived. She brushed the boy off a few times, but he remained tenacious and soon enough, flyers went up around the school inviting any and all people to become part of the club that he was now President of.
A few people signed up right away. Eric Raleigh, Aaron Callahan, and Tara Chambler jumped at the chance. They'd likely been waiting for something that acknowledged their existence for quite some time. Rosita Espinosa hesitantly joined as well. Daryl wasn't sure why she was so secretive about her obvious relationship with Tara, at least on school grounds. Everyone knew about it. Glenn Rhee, Maggie Greene, and Sasha Williams rounded out the founding group. Daryl watched from afar as they all, particularly Paul, were targeted by bullies.
It wasn't as though Daryl didn't care, but he couldn't afford getting involved at that point. He didn't want to end up kicked out of school. At that time, he was already repeating his junior year, and a fight could result in his expulsion. So, he'd stayed out of it, but he noticed.
He noticed the bullies go after Paul, sometimes verbally, sometimes physically, but the boy remained completely undaunted by any form of threat or intimidation. He'd shown he was trained in some form of martial arts the couple of times that homophobic jerkwads actually tried to kick his ass. Daryl remembered a particularly incredible example when Paul was surrounded by four goons in the courtyard after lunch. He'd neutralized them far too easily, not even breaking a sweat, leaving the rest of the school who witnessed it in complete shock. That was the last time that anyone bullied Paul, at least to his face.
Daryl was one of the witnesses to that final confrontation. He became...obsessed was too strong of a word. But he certainly felt intrigued by this guy. He didn't realize people like Paul actually existed in the world. After the foiled attack, no one messed with any of Paul’s group anymore, and Paul himself suddenly became the most popular kid in school, a beacon for every youth to look up to. He excelled in his classes, he kicked ass on the debate team, he set up awareness events for the Rainbow Club, and he won the freaking talent show with his stripped down rendition of "Man in the Box". And Daryl observed it all from afar, trying to ignore the way his heart would pound and his palms would sweat every time Paul smiled at someone or ran his hand through his hair. The talent show was probably the worst. It was mandatory that all students attended, so Daryl naturally sat in the furthest, darkest corner with his arms crossed and his grumpy face firmly in place. When Paul was announced as the final performer, Daryl's first thought was "Are you fucking kidding me?" quickly followed by "Oh my god, he's beautiful" which devolved into silent fanning and a tear or two as Paul's voice soared over the crowd and everyone broke into hysterical cheering. After that, Daryl could no longer deny that he had a crush. A big, fat, heart-eyed boner for a tiny ninja who just happened to be the big man on campus. Bottom line was that everyone loved Paul, and he was friendly to everyone in return, though it seemed like the only people he was really friends with were the other members of the alliance. But he could truly have whomever he wanted as a friend or boyfriend, and Daryl knew he wasn’t good enough to hope for either one.
Daryl did consider joining the club for about two seconds before he remembered that he would be literally murdered by his dad if he did. He didn't know if he was gay for sure, but he had never been into girls, and he now had a massive crush on a boy, albeit a totally oblivious one. A few months before, Daryl had gotten detention for mouthing off to his asshole Chem teacher Mr. Simon, and he'd left school while the Rainbow Club was having their meeting. He remembered walking by the open classroom where they sat, seeing everyone laugh and talk, and feeling an intense longing to be among them. They were all so happy and had somewhere to belong, which was something that Daryl had never had. He'd only just noticed that Paul wasn't among the group when he heard a voice behind him.
"Want to join us?"
Daryl's stomach dropped because he knew that voice, had been dreaming of it for almost a year, and he tried not to look as terrified as he felt as he turned around and faced Paul. The other boy's wide, turquoise eyes quickly looked him up and down and he grinned widely. Daryl felt himself flush from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and his gaze dropped powerlessly to his feet.
"You're welcome to come in if you'd like. We don't bite. Well...most of us, anyway. I can't promise anything about Jerry yet. He's new." He laughed, and his voice was pleasant; warm.
Daryl risked a glance upward. Paul was looking at him steadily, his face open and soft. He couldn't bring himself to speak. It was as though his vocal chords had been crushed into nothingness. Instead, he briskly shook his head and twitched a smile, so he didn't seem like some sort of weirdo spy.
Something like disappointment passed over Paul's face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "That's all right. Door's always open. Maybe another time, then?" Daryl realized he was expected to answer, but again, no voice. He shrugged and smiled again. Awkwardly. So very awkwardly. It was the most embarrassing moment of his life, but Paul seemed to take it in stride, beaming in response and patting Daryl's arm as he stepped around him and walked to the doorway of the classroom.
"See ya, Daryl."
Daryl walked away, his arm feeling like it was on fire from where Paul had touched him. He was so shocked by the touch, vowing to never wash that spot of his body ever again, that it took a full five minutes to register the fact that Paul had called him by name.
He knew Daryl's name.
Daryl had gotten home that day and sequestered himself in his room, in crisis over it for the rest of the day. That was the only interaction they'd ever had, but it was enough to make Daryl feel out of breath any time he thought of it. The whole walk home after his talk with Grimes, it was on his mind. He arrived to an empty trailer and tossed his backpack on a kitchen chair, thanking whatever higher power there might be that Will was out somewhere. That was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. Daryl went to his room and collapsed in a heap on his bed, suddenly exhausted. One 30-second conversation with Paul had nearly done him in. How the hell could he be expected to spend extended one-on-one time with the guy? Daryl realized he was doomed to waste his entire winter break on fretting over the inevitable.
***
Daryl spent most of the following two weeks fixing cars and in the woods near his place. Hunting and tracking always made him feel more level-headed the same way that fixing things did. Plus, it was a great distraction from…other thoughts. Pretty good, anyway. Okay, if Daryl were honest with himself, it wasn’t working nearly as well as it usually did. He’d instead taken to wracking his brain to come up with a way out of his situation. He knew any plea to Rick Grimes would fall on deaf ears. The man was adamant that this was going to happen. In fact, on Christmas Day, Grimes had sent him a text saying “Merry Christmas! Yes, you’re still getting a tutor.” Fucking asshole was a mind reader. Daryl wasn’t sure what Paul’s aim was here, but it felt too weird trying to ask him directly if they could forget this whole learning together thing. Clearly, he volunteered for a reason.
What reason was that, though? Daryl guessed it was Paul just being the do-gooder he was. No delinquent left behind and all that. But sometimes, a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the one that sparked little flames in his heart and he tried his best to quiet, would pipe up. It kept reminding Daryl that Paul knew his name. The rational side of him would argue back that Paul probably knew everyone’s name, family history, and favorite foods because he was the sort of guy who would. All the while, Daryl could physically feel the card with Paul’s number on it burning a hole in his wallet, but he couldn’t get up the nerve to call or text. They could always arrange something when they got back to school, he decided, as that tiny voice would yell “call him, you coward!”.
It was a long couple of weeks.
***
Three days before school resumed, Daryl’s phone let out a ping while he was in the middle of an oil change. He ignored it for the time being, not wanting to get his phone all disgusting with his greasy hands. About ten minutes later, it went off again. Daryl was just finishing up, so he told Dale he was taking a break and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit.
Ping, it went a third time. ‘Hold your damn horses, Merle,’ Daryl thought as he scrubbed his hands and face. His brother always got text happy when he was drunk or high. A few seconds later while Daryl was drying his hands: Ping.
Daryl dug his phone out of his pocket, ready to fire of an angry text telling Merle to fuck off and text someone who cared, when he saw Paul’s number as the sender of the messages. He hadn’t programmed it into his phone yet, but he’d had it memorized since an hour after Rick gave it to him and had taken it out of his wallet so often since, the corners were already starting to wear. Daryl’s heart sank further into his stomach as he read the series of texts.
Hey Daryl! It’s Paul.
Paul Rovia. From school.
I was hoping we could make a plan for tutoring since we start up school again in a few days.
Anyway, text me whenever you get a moment. Ttys.
Fuck. FUCK! What was Daryl supposed to do now? He couldn’t very well ignore the guy, could he? Maybe he could pretend Paul had the wrong number or that he didn’t speak English. He dismissed the idea immediately and told himself to stop being ridiculous. All he had to do was type out a simple response, but it felt too weird to do so in a shop bathroom, so he begged Dale to let him take the rest of the day off, faking a sudden illness. The old man clearly didn’t buy it, but he shrugged and waved Daryl off anyway.
Daryl practically sprinted home. Will’s car was there, so Daryl snuck in his bedroom window to avoid him. He pulled his phone out and stared at the messages again. With shaking fingers, he typed out a response.
Just got home from work. Hey.
Little bubbles indicating Paul was typing popped up immediately.
I figured. You work for Dale Horvath, right?
Daryl felt wholly unsurprised that Paul knew that. It fit his personality completely. He wouldn’t be shocked if Paul knew his hourly wage too.
Yeah. Oil changes and tire rotations mostly. Sometimes mechanic work too.
Cool. When Mr. Grimes said you were struggling with your grades, I wanted to help. When you wanna hook up?
Daryl felt the blush burn his cheeks. He knew Paul wasn’t trying to be flirtatious, but he couldn’t help it if he thought about how soft the boy’s lips might be at the words “hook up”. He wondered how to respond. Should they meet up at school? Seniors didn’t have a study hall, so it would be hard to meet up during school hours. But he also didn’t want to come across like he was asking Paul on a date or something. He opted for a neutral approach.
Maybe we can meet up at the end of the day on Monday and figure it out from there?
The response was instantaneous. Holy shit, Paul typed fast.
Sounds great! I’ll meet you in the library at 2.
Okay. See you then.
See ya Daryl. ;)
That was that, then. He had three days to prepare for his ultimate death at the hands of one Paul Rovia.
As it turned out, Daryl didn’t have three days. It wasn’t an hour later that his phone pinged.
You like Chinese food?
What? He was texting again? Was Paul actually trying to be his friend now?
I guess.
I was thinking of going to get some. If you wanna come along.
Daryl felt himself begin to hyperventilate. He wanted to meet up? Now?! If they did, Daryl knew he’d have to actually speak and not be able to think about everything he was going to say the way he was doing in these text conversations. Daryl processed the reality of the situation. Paul was offering something more than tutoring. He seemed to be looking for some sort of friendship or companionship. Daryl wasn’t sure why Paul would need or want that from him. He was loved by everybody and had a large group of friends in his club. While Daryl was busy thinking, his phone pinged again.
Should I take that silence as a no?
Jesus, didn’t this guy have anything better to do than constantly text him?
Wait a damn minute, I can’t type as fast as you.
The bubbles appeared again and a moment later:
Waiting with baited breath.
Daryl already knew this was a lost cause. If Paul was this determined to be friends, who was Daryl to argue? He rationalized that they’d be spending the next few months together, after all. They may as well get to know each other beyond the tutor-tutee roles and try to enjoy their time together. Or, at the very least, make it less painful. ‘This is just so he stops bugging me,’ Daryl told himself as he typed his response to Paul.
Where at?
***
Twenty minutes later, Daryl arrived at Great Dragon and looked around nervously. He wasn’t sure whether to bring his books. Paul didn’t say, and Daryl didn’t want to show up unprepared if this was meant to be their first study session. However, he also didn’t want to lug an entire backpack full of crap to a sit-down restaurant. He settled for rolling up a notebook and tucking it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
Paul was already there. He sat in a corner booth. He had no books stacked around him, but he did have his laptop and was furiously typing on it. His brow was furrowed in concentration and the tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth. His hair was flopping into his eyes, like always. Why did he have to be so…cute? It would be so much easier if Daryl could just dislike him. But it wasn’t possible. He would rather be tortured with toothpicks under his fingernails than use the term “adorable” to describe Paul. But…well, he was. Daryl felt self-conscious suddenly; his too-long hair more lank and greasy than Paul’s soft, shiny locks. He also probably should’ve put more consideration into what he wore, too. At least his jeans didn’t have any holes, but they weren’t exactly nice looking.
Before Daryl could regret his choices for too long, Paul glanced up and locked eyes with him. His face broke into a grin and he waved before gesturing Daryl over. Well, this was it. Daryl couldn't put this off any longer. He walked over and slid into the booth, choking out a "hey" and giving a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
"Hi," Paul said brightly. "Scoot in, check this out." He turned his laptop toward Daryl. Some unfamiliar person was speaking about his day on YouTube. Daryl moved closer, choosing to ignore the way Paul pressed himself against him. He didn't know who this YouTube guy was, but he was pretty funny, Daryl had to admit. They sat and watched, and Daryl even chuckled once or twice. He still didn't know what Paul was aiming for. Who spends their first real moments with anyone acting like they're old friends?
Once the video ended, Daryl felt a physical weight of awkwardness come over him. What now? Apparently, there was no reason to wonder or worry. The second the video ended, Paul started chatting about The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which was the novel they were about to begin in English. He described the basic plot and Daryl felt himself interested, in spite of his best intentions. He found he was actually excited to read the book, but then he didn't know how to feel. Was Paul just fucking with his mind? It felt at least a little manipulative. Even if Paul had wanted to hang out with him outside of school, he had now segued into all business.
"I'm not much of a reader," Daryl admitted. "It's hard for me to focus enough. Like I'll get to the end of a page and not remember any of it."
Paul nodded. "Have you thought about audiobooks? Sometimes it's easier to concentrate on someone else reading to you."
Daryl considered this. It made a lot of sense. Actually, he remembered when he was young he had always loved story time in school. "That's not a bad idea. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before."
Paul shrugged. "Apparently neither have any of your teachers. And I've always been good at thinking outside of the box." He winked, and Daryl felt his face heat. He dropped his eyes to his lap as Paul spoke again. "In fact, instead of getting the audiobook, why don't I just read it to you? That way, we both get our reading in and we can discuss chapters and stuff."
The thought of Paul reading an entire novel to him had a base appeal Daryl didn't want to think about too much. The boy's voice was just so warm and soft. He nodded in agreement and Paul grinned again. "Obviously, we don't need to start today, but see? That's one thing taken care of. What's the other class you're having trouble with? Mr. Grimes mentioned there were two."
Daryl cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Chemistry."
Paul's eyes lit up. "Well, see, that's easy. It's all about cause and effect. Combination and reaction." His gaze grew playful. "So before, when I winked at you, and you blushed? Cause and effect."
Oh my God.
Paul went on as though he didn't just rock Daryl's world. "Only in chemistry, you're working with much smaller entities. But the basic premise is the same. Hey! You should come to the next Rainbow meeting. It's Monday right after school. I kind of forgot when we were making plans before. Then we can study after. If that works for you, I mean."
Daryl felt like he was following the thoughts of a too-excited puppy. Paul was kind of all over the place. It really shouldn't be so attractive.
"Yeah, okay, as long as no one would mind me being there."
"The club is for everyone, Daryl. But I'm in charge, and I say you're coming with, and everyone is going to like you." Paul tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, which stuck out in an elvish manner. As though he wasn't already cute enough. Daryl was so fucked, wasn't he? He managed to nod again, and Paul laughed.
"Man, you're really chatty. I feel like I can't get a word in edgewise," he teased.
"Never been one for much small talk."
Paul's eyes were thoughtful and probing. "Maybe you just haven't had someone to talk to."
That hit a little too close to home for Daryl's taste. Was Paul a mind reader on top of everything else? Christ, man. The thing was, Daryl didn't feel uncomfortable or defensive like he'd expect himself to. Instead, he found himself wanting to open up to Paul. The boy was so kind, so earnest. Unguarded. At least on the surface. So, Daryl opted for the truth.
"You're probably right. My mom's dead, my dad's an alcoholic prick, my big brother is a lot older and was never around much growing up. Also, I don't have any friends. So...yeah."
Paul looked a little flustered. He was probably embarrassed that he asked or something, Daryl thought, but then he spoke up.
"Until I came here last year, it was similar for me. Only I had a lot of people around. See, my parents were addicts. They died in a car accident when I was a kid. They were under the influence and hit a bridge embankment." Paul paused for a moment, looking sad. "When I found out, I was more relieved they didn't take anyone else with them than anything else. I didn't have any next of kin, so I went to a group home. People were always coming and going from there, so it was hard to make connections. There came a point that I just stopped trying. When I turned 17, I petitioned a judge for emancipation. And...here I am." Paul let out a breath and chuckled. "That was a lot, I know."
Daryl thought of something. "Why are you here? I just mean...why here? Why Conyers?"
Paul's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I'll tell you sometime, if you play your cards right." He gave another little wink, and Daryl definitely had to get the hell out of there because Paul could read him like a book and was playing him like a damn fiddle, and Daryl didn't know what to do. The guy was definitely gay, he knew that. He was also definitely flirting. Daryl didn't know why though. He couldn't tell if Paul was joking or serious. Paul probably didn't know about Daryl's long-term crush, so he likely didn't realize how very much Daryl was affected by his playful teasing.
"I'd better go. I gotta make supper for my dad, or he'll be pissed."
Daryl didn't miss the way Paul's face fell, but he brightened again immediately. "Wow, Dixon, I bare my soul to you, and you just bail? Harsh." He held up a hand before Daryl could sputter out a protest. "Kidding. Meet me at my locker after school on Monday. We'll go from there."
Daryl nodded and thanked Paul before practically sprinting home and cooking up some Hamburger Helper. So, Paul seemed to assume that Daryl knew where his locker was. How much did Paul know about Daryl? Did he watch him the way Daryl watched Paul?
Time to spend another night in crisis over a stupidly cute boy. He realized he hadn't even eaten. Man, he was a mess.
***
Monday came and with it, the start of the spring semester. The day went by quickly and Daryl found himself actually paying attention in class. He knew Paul was going to tutor him and for whatever reason, he didn't want to disappoint. He wanted to do his part. As instructed, he walked to Paul's locker when his last class dismissed. The boy met him with a wide smile.
"I knew you knew where it was."
God dammit.
Paul led him to Mr. Gregory's classroom where he was greeted with a loud chorus of cheering and whooping by the members of the Rainbow Club. They were very welcoming, and Daryl wasn't completely sure if he should be happy about it. There was something primal in him that had craved this kind of validation and friendship from others for so long, he felt a bit like a sponge soaking up the attention. That, in turn, made him feel a little embarrassed. He hated being vulnerable.
Most of the members were paired off: Glenn and Maggie, Aaron and Eric, and Tara and Rosita. Sasha's boyfriend Bob wasn't "a club guy" as Paul put it. No one knew about Jerry for some reason. He had jovially joined the club a while back, but his personal life was a mystery. He'd greeted Daryl with an overenthusiastic bear hug upon his introduction. Daryl saw Paul holding back laughter and sent him a subtle middle finger in response.
Daryl hadn't known what to expect from this club; did everyone just talk about their experiences being gay or straight or bisexual? But no. It seemed like everyone talked about their lives in general beyond their respective sexualities. They also planned events for the community and school. It seemed like the latest thing they had going on was a bake sale to raise money for the Trevor Project (Daryl vowed to look up what that was later, too embarrassed to ask). They also wanted the posters for the upcoming Sweetheart Dance on Valentine's Day to be all-inclusive. The posters that had been designed apparently was a stock white girl and boy. The club wanted more posters used with both racial and sexual orientation diversity.
Paul rolled his eyes over his constant butting of heads with Principal Monroe. "It's so frustrating," he sighed as Maggie patted his arm in understanding. "I know she means well, but she's too afraid to take any risks that might upset her position. I feel like even the most simple things have to be fought for."
"Why don't you just design your own posters and put them up?" Daryl asked. "I see clubs do it all the time. Don't seem like they ever need permission to me."
Paul looked at Daryl curiously. "That's actually not a bad idea..."
Sasha piped up. "I'm pretty good with photoshop and stuff. I could figure out some cool designs if I had pictures to use."
"Why don't we take our own?" Maggie said suddenly. "We can pose in all different couplings amongst ourselves. We could even rope a couple other people in who aren't in the group. Like Bob or Nabila."
Daryl didn't miss Jerry's blush.
Glenn spoke up softly. "Wouldn't we need permission from the principal though?"
Paul shrugged. "Maybe technically, but I've never known anyone else to get explicit permission to put up posters for stuff. I mean, right before break the Photography Club put stuff up for their winter expo. As far as I know, they didn't ask anyone if they could. It's not like we are violating school rules. And the expo was sanctioned by the school itself. Same as the dance."
They made plans to meet in a few weeks and take photographs. Glenn was friends with Nicholas in AV Club and was sure he could finagle a nice camera for the shoot. Tara and Eric were in the drama crowd and promised to find something appropriate to wear, though, as Tara warned, "it might be a little 80s." Rosita assured her that the 80s styles were coming back and not to worry. They said their goodbyes with a plan in motion and Daryl felt as though he'd lived three complete lives during the past hour.
"Is it always so...hectic?" He asked Paul as they walked to the library after the meeting concluded.
The other boy laughed. "Sometimes, yeah. They all mean well. But they all have their own personalities and sometimes it can be a little overwhelming, I know."
Daryl smiled shyly. "I liked them. Don't tell them I said that though," he warned. Paul smiled back and bumped shoulders with Daryl.
"Your secret is safe with me."
***
They reached the library and emptied their backpacks onto a table. Ms. Peletier gave them one of her famous "I-could-kill-you-in-your-sleep-you-know" looks before continuing to shelve books.
Paul immediately pulled out his copy of Perks and told Daryl to settle in. "Okay, so there are only four chapters in this book, if we don't count the epilogue." Daryl balked. "Yeah, I know, it's weird but I checked to make sure beforehand. So let's try to do one full chapter today and review."
Paul spent the following hour reading, and Daryl felt more engaged with Charlie, Patrick, and Sam's story than he thought possible. Honestly, he was pretty sure he could excel in any class if Paul played a part. It wasn't even the boy's voice or manner necessarily. Daryl simply found himself more interested because Paul himself was interested. After he finished reading, they went over talking points together, and Daryl found he could actually answer questions and they were able to discuss the book more deeply because he actually understood what was going on in the plot. He could tell Paul was pleased by it; the boy kept smiling and looking at Daryl. After they finished their discussion, Paul said he was proud of how well Daryl did.
Daryl rolled his eyes a little. "I'm not your kid, you know."
Paul's eyes shone. "I know, but for right now, you're my pupil. And you're doing really well."
If only Daryl could control his goddam skin with every sweet thing that Paul said. He was in a semi-permanent blushing state around the guy. He said "thanks" shyly and the moved on to the new unit of chemistry. Paul explained that he had made a deal with Mr. Simon to let him use the Chem lab during off hours. Daryl was shocked.
"That guy fucking hates me. He's such a dick."
Paul looked sly. "Yeah, but I'm good at getting what I want."
That didn't surprise Daryl in the slightest. Paul had him wrapped around his little finger already and he hardly had to do anything. They spent the following hour on their new unit. Daryl didn't totally understand it, and was a little difficult to concentrate instead of getting lost in Paul's eyes, but he felt he had enough of a grasp to pass a test. He told Paul as much. The boy smiled.
"The best thing is to be interested enough to actually learn," Paul said as he turned off a Bunsen burner. "But if you just aren't into a subject, memorization is a pretty close second. Simon always goes over everything he's gonna put on the test the first couple of days, and I'm an excellent note taker."
Paul’s phone buzzed in this pocket. “Lookie here, it’s 5 o’clock already. See? Studying isn’t so bad- what’s wrong?” Paul looked alarmed at Daryl’s white face.
“I need to get home before my dad shows up. He’ll kick my ass if I don’t have supper ready. And I mean that for real.”
A cold sort of anger came over Paul’s face at that. “Your dad sounds like a real asshole. I hope to never come across him in a dark alley.”
Daryl chuckled and felt his stomach flip, oddly pleased at the thought of Paul standing up for him. “I have no doubts you would win in hand-to-hand combat, but Will ain’t the kind to fight fair. He’d probably shoot or stab you.”
Paul sniffed. “I’m pretty quick on my feet.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You been watching me, Daryl?” Paul wagged his brows and grinned.
God, if only he knew how much. Maybe he did know. Daryl hadn't had to spend very long with Paul to decide that the boy was a bit hard to read. For someone who seemed to show his every emotion on his face, Daryl had a feeling that there was a lot more going on inside he didn't show. The bit of opening up Paul had done already showed Daryl that there were hidden depths that he'd only scratched the surface of. He hoped he would get the opportunity to go past those top couple of layers, even if it just meant that he and Paul were friends. And he still couldn't decide if the flirty behavior was serious or not.
They said their goodbyes and planned to meet up the following afternoon. Paul had the gall to assign Daryl homework answering a couple of questions about Perks and their current unit in Chem. He promised if Daryl did well he'd get a reward; Daryl tried not to let his mind wander too much on possibilities.
***
Over the next few weeks, anytime Daryl wasn't in class, at home, or at Dale's shop, he was with Paul. The boy actually came to the shop some afternoons to hang out. Dale quickly put him to work sorting tools, but otherwise said nothing about the company.
Every time Daryl successfully completed his homework, Paul would reward him. First, it was a small heart-shaped sucker. Then chocolate lips, candy hearts, a Hershey's kiss. Daryl didn't fail to notice the pattern, but the one time he asked about it, Paul shrugged and said it was Valentine's Day soon and all the themed candy was readily available.
It was also over the following weeks that Daryl felt himself falling more and more for this perfect boy. Paul was so funny and quick-witted. He was never bothered by Daryl's tendency to be quiet, at once happy to chatter away, and later to let things lapse into a comfortable silence. Paul talked more about his life as well, about how he was bullied at the group home for being small and gay, and how he'd taken it upon himself to learn self-defense. He spoke about how he felt a responsibility to help others as well. He talked about his plans after high school and how he wasn't sure if he'd go to college right away or take a year off and travel.
"You should come with me," he'd said that day, tapping a pencil on the desk and looking deeply at Daryl.
"Was planning to go to Atlanta." God, why did his eyes have to take up his whole face like that?
"Atlanta will still be there when you get back. You're 19, live a little."
"Not yet, still got till tomorrow."
"Shit, your birthday is tomorrow? Why didn't you say anything?" Paul admonished.
"I don't really celebrate it. Plus, kinda figured you already knew. You seem to know everything about me."
Paul blushed, actually blushed, and looked away. It was moments like this that made Daryl wonder. Was he the only person who was having these feelings? He'd been noticing it more and more since they'd started spending time together, but he had no damn experience with this kind of shit. He'd thought about asking one of the members of the Rainbow club, but they were still only getting to know him whereas Paul was their collective best friend. And what if Paul didn't return Daryl's feelings? He hated the thought of the entire group knowing how gone he was on this boy.
Paul promised to bring something for Daryl, and sure enough, the following day he brought a single red velvet cupcake. But he didn't give it to Daryl directly, because that would be the normal thing to do. Instead, Daryl opened his locker first thing to grab his books and atop the shelf sat the perfectly frosted little cake, an unlit candle on top of it and everything. Daryl was too touched by the gesture to wonder too hard about how the hell Paul had pulled it off. Instead, he tore a sheet of paper out of his notebook, scribbled "Thank you" and shoved it into the slots of Paul's own locker as he walked past it on the way to his first class.
For the first time in ages, Daryl felt confident in a way he hadn't before. A few days before, they'd had their first unit test in chemistry as well as an essay they had to write on the themes of Perks, and Daryl had managed Bs on both, which had completely astounded him. He'd gotten a proud pat on the back from Grimes along with a boomed "Congratulations!" Paul, however, had simply shrugged and said that it was no surprise to him because Daryl knew the material. At that moment, the urge to hug or kiss or touch Paul in some way was almost unbearable. Something would have to give soon, because Daryl was pretty damn sure he was in love.
***
The answer came at the next Rainbow meeting (somehow along the way, Daryl had become a member of the club, though no one seem to know his orientation and no one asked, either). Tara had brought formal wear from the theater supplies and Glenn had a camera. Nabila and Bob had joined for the project. Daryl and Paul skipped studying that day and instead spent the afternoon taking photos in different spots on campus. They posed in all different couplings and combinations. Daryl was convinced that Paul could hear his heart pound as they sat on a bench together, holding hands while Paul smiled softly at him. After the click of the camera, Daryl had looked up and found every other person of the group staring at him and Paul with damn heart eyes. He was getting a little tired of feeling like he was one step behind, but he shook the feeling off once again.
Glenn promised to get the pictures developed that night and Sasha was getting posters made the following day. It was only a couple of weeks until the Sweetheart Dance and they wanted to get them up around the school. Everyone chatted excitedly, but Daryl excused himself before the group broke because it was getting late. As he walked toward the corner in front of the school, Paul's voice popped up behind him.
"Hey, Daryl-wait up!"
He stopped and turned around, noting that while out of breath, Paul looked uncharacteristically nervous, as though he wanted to say something but didn't know the best way to go about it.
Paul looked at his shuffling feet, took a deep breath, and blurted out, "Wannagotothedancewithme?"
Daryl scratched inside of his ear, certain he didn't hear right.
"What?"
"Look, I mean, I know dances probably aren't your thing, but everyone is going to go and I thought maybe we could too. You know...together?" Paul's face was red as a tomato and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes locked in one place. He also kept tucking his hair behind one ear, which Daryl had noticed he tended to do when he felt unsure about something.
Was this for real? Was Paul actually asking him out? Or was this like a big group thing and he was simply inviting him along? Daryl decided not to test fate by asking. Instead, he nodded and said "Yeah, sure, I'll go."
Relief broke out on Paul's face and he pulled Daryl into a hug. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Hug back, stupid. Even you can manage that. Daryl did manage it, and it was the most intimate he'd ever been with anyone, not counting the nights his Mama was alive and would kiss his forehead before he went to sleep. He didn't want to let go, but he managed that too. He went home and made grilled cheese sandwiches for his dad while wondering what the hell he was going to wear and if this was what dating was like.
***
The following two weeks passed uneventfully. The posters were a hit. The one of him and Paul smacked Daryl like a tire iron. They were looking at each other like there was no one else in the world. They were looking at each other like they were in love. Glenn had pulled him aside and gave him a copy of the photo, telling him it was his favorite. Daryl held it like a precious treasure and promised himself to keep it somewhere that Will would never find it. He'd bury it in a safe box somewhere if he had to. Turns out, while the pictures taken had them in formal wear, the Sweetheart Dance was largely informal. At least half the people didn't even dress up. This was largely a relief for Daryl, and he decided to wear his nicest pair of jeans and a black button down shirt.
He continued to do well in school, and part of him was terrified that Paul would suddenly decide his work there was done and Daryl would be alone once again, but it never happened. Even when they stopped studying most of the time they were together, because Daryl was starting to manage that on his own, they still hung out every day.
What are we? Are we dating? Do you even like me? These were the thoughts that plagued Daryl day in and day out. By the time the night of the dance rolled around, he felt a hair trigger away from screaming that he was head over heels in love with Paul.
It was Friday, and also Valentine's Day, and Daryl wondered if he should get something for Paul. The boy had been giving him cute love-themed gifts for weeks now, but Daryl still wasn't sure if this was a date or not and he was afraid to put himself out there in case he was wrong. He finally caved a little and texted Maggie.
Are me and Paul dating?
Lol, dating? You're practically married.
Well. That was interesting. He typed out another message.
It's just that he asked me to the dance but I thought it might be a group thing. Should I get him a gift? I don't wanna make a fool out of myself.
Daryl Dixon, Paul has been making a fool out of himself for you for over a month now. And a lot longer than that if you ask me.
What do you mean?
You'll have to ask him that. But yeah. Get him a gift and please get your shit together. All of us are tired of watching you dance around this thing.
So. That answered if Paul liked him at least.
***
Daryl was shit at gift buying. He opted for a chocolate rose. Flowers and candy were the typical thing, right? He had to meet Paul in front of the school in a half hour. He arrived twenty minutes early and spent the entire time sitting on the stone bench and debating on simply eating the rose himself to erase any evidence of him actually buying it. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. Maggie pretty much flat out said Paul was into him. But he was 19, had never had a relationship, and until a month and a half ago hadn't even really had friends. He was in love with the most popular boy in school who just so happened to have become his best friend. This gift was his first step toward saying all this out loud to Paul.
Speak of the devil: "Hi!"
Paul strode up to Daryl, confident and beautiful. He wore a turquoise shirt that almost perfectly matched his eyes and the tightest grey jeans Daryl had ever seen on a human. He was actually struck speechless just like the first time they'd met face to face. He shoved the rose awkwardly into Paul's hands before it melted all over the place in Daryl's crushing grip.
Paul smiled shyly. "I knew you had a romantic side in you."
"Um, I didn't know if it would be welcome before. Not until I talked to Maggie."
Paul's face blanched a little. "What did she tell you?"
Daryl's hands were shaking as he handed over his phone. Paul took it into his own trembling fingers and read over the messages.
"What does that mean? A lot longer than a month?"
A guilty smile stole over Paul's face. "Just that I've had a crush on you pretty much ever since I got to this school. I practically begged Mr. Grimes to let me tutor you."
Wait. What?! "Wait. What?!" Daryl's voice followed his thoughts.
"Yeah. I know. Pretty pathetic. Especially since I didn't even know if you liked guys."
"I do," Daryl blurted. "I mean. I like one guy. Maybe...maybe even love him."
Paul's lips were on his before Daryl could react. The kiss was soft and chaste, simple presses of their mouths together while other students entering the school catcalled behind them. Daryl felt completely dazed when they parted.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Daryl."
Daryl kissed him in response, no longer caring if they actually went to the dance.
"How'd you end up in Conyers?" It seemed important to know, now. How had Paul ended up there and become so important to him?
Paul smiled. "A map and a dart."
"You're shitting me."
"Not at all. I wanted a new start and left it up to chance. Or maybe fate. Now I like to think of it as Cupid's arrow," He laughed at his own cheesy joke, then kissed Daryl's cheek and pulled him toward the school doors.