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Your alarm goes off at 7am, just like it’s supposed to.
You get out of bed, just like you’re supposed to.
You get ready for school, just like you’re supposed to.
The postman delivers the mail an hour early, just like he’s-
“Oh, fuck!”
Rick has never been late for school. Never. Not even when he was still following Shane around like a lost puppy, pretending to enjoy doing things like swearing and spitting in public.
It’s been a long time since those days, but obviously the universe has some sick sense of humour, because it’s picked the day of possibly the biggest test of Rick’s life to have his alarm go off an hour late.
Foregoing breakfast, Rick stuffs everything he thinks he’ll need into his bag and bolts out the door, only just remembering to lock it behind him.
He’s definitely missed the bus, and it’s a good mile and a half to school from Rick’s house.
And Rick has less than ten minutes to get there.
Rick has never been the fittest kid. He’s grown up wanting to be a cop, so he’s not exactly lazy, but he’s no Olympic athlete.
Be that as it may, he runs faster and pushes himself harder than he ever has before.
He can feel his heart trying to break through his ribcage, and his breathing is so deep he’s not sure if he’s taking anything in or just passing right through it. He can already feel sweat pooling between his shoulder blades, made worse by his backpack pressing against his shirt, and his lips taste of salt when he sticks his tongue out to wet them. His legs have already passed the point of aching, and he’s practically moving on autopilot. All he can hear is his feet slapping against the pavement, his books jumping around in his bag, the wind rushing past his ears.
Rick has never run this fast in his life.
He rounds the last corner, spots the gates of the school on the horizon, and for a moment, he feels like he’s going to make it.
He pushes himself, impossibly, harder, and he’s barely taken a single step onto the road before something comes careening into him, sending him flying onto his side and onto the asphalt.
What the hell was that? he thinks, and promptly passes out.
Rick comes to with someone’s hand on his face, and the first thing he thinks is –
“What time is it?”
There’s a pause, and then – “I think it’s almost nine?”
Rick nods, even though his head is swimming, and starts to get to his feet.
“Hey, hey! Don’t move!” someone says, too close, and Rick looks up to focus on the person in front of him.
He recognises Daryl Dixon immediately. His dad has warned him about their family enough times that Rick has learned to avoid them, as much as possible.
Rick shoves him off, pushing his way to his feet, and adjusts his bag so it’s sitting properly. “I have to get to school,” he says, and pushes past him.
“No,” Daryl says, and stalks forward to block Rick’s path. “You’ve gotta get to a hospital.”
Rick glares, and reaches up to his temple when he feels something on his face. When he pulls his fingers back, they’re coated red.
“See?” Daryl says. “You’re bleedin’.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Rick says, and winces at how loud it sounds to his own ears. “I’ve got a test at nine o’clock!”
Daryl’s eyebrows furrow, and his shoulders seem to drop. “You’re more worried ‘bout a test than the fact you’re bleedin’ from ya head?”
“Yes,” Rick says, without hesitation.
Daryl considers it for a moment, then nods. “Alright,” he says. “But you’re goin’ to the hospital straight after.”
Rick, confused, stares at the other boy. “Does that mean I can go?” he asks.
“Y’ain’t gon’ make it there on time by runnin’,” he says, and Rick watches as he walks towards an overturned motorcycle that he hadn’t noticed. “I’ll give you a lift.”
Rick stares, watching Daryl right his bike and climb on.
“Well?” Daryl asks, when Rick doesn’t move. “You comin’ or not? I’m late, too, y’know.”
Rick nods, and climbs onto the bike behind him.
All things considered, Rick thinks he does pretty well in the test. He understood all of the questions, even if a couple of the words started shaking and moving when he stared at them too long, and he’s fairly sure his writing was mostly legible.
He hands his paper to Mr Greene, smiling weakly, and attempts to lean casually against his teacher’s desk.
“Could I… go to the nurse’s office, Mr Greene? I’m not feeling too well.”
Giving him a once over, probably noticing how dishevelled he is, Mr Greene nods, handing him a pass.
Rick nods his thanks and leaves the room, his backpack slung over his shoulders.
He makes his way slowly – very slowly – to the office, stopping a few times to let his stomach settle, and he’s just made it to the adjacent hallway when a voice echoes down to him.
“Hope you passed that test, Grimes,” the voice says, and Rick looks up to see Daryl at the top of the staircase in front of him, leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand.
“You can’t smoke in here,” Rick tells him, and starts to make his way towards him. It’s slow-going – he has to use the railing for support – and he hears Daryl chuckle as he watches.
“I ain’t smokin’ it,” he says, and tucks the cigarette behind his ear as if to prove it. “Just wanted to see how many teachers were too scared t’ tell me off.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rick mutters, sparing him a glance. His right leg has started to ache something awful, and his vision is getting blurry. “How many so far?”
“Only three,” he admits. “But it ain’t even second period.”
Almost on cue, the hallway comes to life with the shrill sound of bells.
Rick barely stops himself from screaming, clutching at his head and falling against the wall. There’s a bell just above their heads, and it’s the loudest thing Rick has ever heard.
The next thing he knows, there is a body tucked against his and two warm hands are covering his own over his ears. It’s all Rick can do not to start crying on the spot.
They get bumped a few times as other students make their way past them, a few grumble about them blocking the way, but after a few minutes, the hall is empty and silent again, as if no one was ever there.
“Grimes,” someone says. “Hey. Rick. Look at me.”
Rick squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will away the throbbing in his head, and turns his gaze upwards.
“We gotta get you to a hospital,” Daryl says, and with barely any warning, he loops an arm around Rick’s waist, pulling Rick’s arm over his shoulders, and practically carries him to the office.
The woman in the office goes into such a panic that she starts crying, staring at Rick slowly losing consciousness against Daryl’s side, so while she disappears into the back rooms to find the principal, Daryl sets Rick down on one of the chairs and calls an ambulance himself.
It pulls up within ten minutes, the paramedics rushing into the room with a stretcher as if Rick’s already dead.
As it is, he’s barely conscious, only keeping his eyes open because Daryl keeps nudging him with his foot whenever they close.
The paramedics listen carefully as Daryl explains what happened – the panicked woman gasps when she hears that Daryl still brought him to school – and they chastise him, but he isn’t their priority.
They load Rick onto the stretcher, careful not to move him too much, and ask the woman to call Rick’s parents.
“Daryl,” Rick manages, turning his head just slightly to see the other boy leaning, almost uncomfortably, against the wall.
He looks up at Rick’s voice, his arms loosening where he has them crossed, and he pushes off the wall to stand up.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
The last thing Rick sees before they wheel him out is Daryl, leaning back against the wall, with a small smile on his face.
Once Rick has been scanned and x-rayed and prodded and poked for a few hours, the doctors let his parents in to see him.
His mother is crying, clutching her own hands against her chest and looking like she doesn’t know whether to hug him or collapse.
“Hi,” Rick says, around a tightness in his throat.
“Oh, baby,” his mother cries, and she leaps forward to pull him into her arms. She presses what feels like a hundred kisses to his face, and only pulls back when Rick’s father touches her shoulder and tells her “that’s enough, dear.”
When Rick meets his father’s gaze, he’s frowning.
“You alright, son?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” Rick replies.
“Nothing broken?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
Rick smiles, watching his father, and his father, after a moment, smiles back. Then, without warning, he’s pulled into another hug.
“You had us worried sick,” his father tells him, his voice ghosting over Rick’s shoulder. “Don’t ever do anything like this again.”
Rick nods into his father’s chest and cries.
Later, when his father has gone back to the station and his mother has fallen asleep, curled up in the chair beside his bed, Rick jumps in surprise when he hears a knock at the door.
“You’ve got a visitor,” the nurse says. “Are you up for it?”
Rick nods, wondering who it is, and is more than surprised when Daryl Dixon steps into view.
“You’ve only got a few minutes, honey,” the nurse reminds Rick. “Then your mother’ll have to take herself and your brother home.”
She leaves before Rick has a chance to reply, and he turns to Daryl, confused.
“Brother?” he asks.
Daryl shrugs. “They wouldn’t let me in, ‘less I was family.”
Rick feels his heart do something funny, at that, and hears a corresponding blip on the monitor. The only other person he’d ever think of doing something like that to see him was Shane, and they hadn’t spoken for years. But then –
“Listen,” he says, and the monitor starts beeping faster with his nerves. “If you think I’m gonna press charges, don’t worry. It was my fault, I should’ve-”
“Hey,” Daryl says, interrupting, a wary eye on the monitor to Rick’s left. He steps further into the room, holding his hands up. “That ain’t why ‘m here.”
“Then what are you-?”
“I just came t’ make sure you’re alright. It’s been a rough day.”
Rick scoffs, feeling himself relax. The monitor starts to slow down, and Daryl starts to relax with it. “Little bit, yeah.”
“So… you’re all good, then?”
Rick stares at the other boy, nodding. “You know I’ll be back at school tomorrow. You could have just waited ‘til then to ask.”
Daryl flushes, just barely, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he says. “Well…”
He fades off, leaving the room silent apart from the beeping of Rick’s monitor and his mother’s quiet snores.
“So-” Rick starts, at the same time Daryl says “I should-”
They both stop, pressing their lips together comically as they wait for the other to speak.
Rick doesn’t, so Daryl gestures towards the door with his thumb. “I should head off, ‘fore the nurse figures out who I am. M’brother’s been here enough times, they oughta recognise me on sight.”
Rick makes a face, curious, but nods. “Thanks for… everythin’, I guess.”
Daryl shrugs, taking a few steps backwards. “Ain’t nothin’ to it,” he says, and the barest hint of a smile pulls at his lips. “Just watch where you’re runnin’ from now on.”
Rick smiles back, and watches him disappear through the door, a strange idea forming in his head.
“Hey, Daryl!” he yells, before he can think better of it. After a few seconds, Daryl’s head pops into view through the doorframe.
“Yeah?” he asks.
Rick starts to lose his nerve, but Daryl steps patiently into the room, hands tucked into his pockets. “Y’alright, Rick?”
“Yeah,” Rick says quickly. “Just…”
“Just…?”
“Any chance you could give me a ride next week? I’ve got a chemistry test on Thursday,” he says. After a moment, he adds, quietly, “I’ll, uh, buy you a movie ticket, to pay you back?”
Daryl squints for a moment, staring at Rick, and they both listen as the monitor slowly starts to beep faster.
“Alright,” Daryl says suddenly, when the beeping gets impossibly loud in Rick’s ears. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Grimes.”
Rick practically feels his heart stop, but he smiles. “I’ll try not to sleep in,” he jokes.
Daryl laughs quietly as he leaves.
The next day, at school, Daryl drops a brown paper bag onto the lunch table, over Rick’s shoulder, and walks away without a word.
Rick’s friends whisper among themselves, and he knows that a million and one rumours are going to be spread before next period even starts.
He waits until he’s alone to even look at the package, throwing his friends off by saying Daryl owed him for not pressing charges – even though it hurts to even think it – and when he makes it to his locker, he can’t help the smile that breaks across his face.
Inside the bag is an alarm clock in the shape of a motorcycle.
Maybe the universe isn't so bad, after all.