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Daryl had thought he was alone. Rosita had retired to bed ages ago, leaving him on guard at the wall alone. It had been a busy few days. Countless walkers, too many fights, emotions running high. It had been stressful.
He wasn't very good with emotions, truthfully. He would rather react in anger than cry over something. It was easier to be mad and to yell, than to be upset and cry. Although he'd never been one to shy away from showing emotions, crying was a lot of effort and there wasn't many people he would willingly be vulnerable infront of.
Daryl leans against the wall, lost in thought, smoking a cigarette. Eugene had tried to convince him to quit smoking earlier, because it was 'bad for his lungs'. Daryl had promptly told him to piss off and to mind his damn business. It was the apocalypse, anyway. The end of the world. They were all going to die, most probably sooner rather than later.
Why not self-destruct even more than he already was? This could be his last day alive. Why not punish hinself even more than he already did? He removes the cigarette from inbetween his lips, staring at his hand for a moment. He doesn't seem to notice Carol climbing the ladder as he presses the cigarette into his skin.
When he does notice her coming to stand next to him, he is stunned for a moment before very quickly stubbing out his cigarette and wiping his hand free of the cigarette ash, wincing slightly at the sight of the burn on his hand. he throws the cigarette butt over the wall, shifting to hide his hand under his sleeve.
They both stand in silence for a moment, and Daryl know's that she saw. She must've. Damn it.
"Couldn't sleep?" Daryl asks eventually. The silence was uncomfortable, and he couldn't think of anything better to ask.
"Couldn't find a better way to express your emotions?" Carol asks in reply, and Daryl bristles. He doesnt look at her, lighting another cigarette.
"How i deal with my emotions is nun' of your damn business." He says, looking out over the wall. More silence. God, he hates the silence. He'd already tried to make conversation, and he deemed it would be awkward if he tried again. So they stood in silence for a moment, before eventually, Carol spoke.
"You shouldn't do that, you know. Not good for you. It'll leave scars." She says, and Daryl finally meets her eyes, self-conciously hiding his hand further in his sleeve.
"Scars don't matter to me. Got enough of 'em already." Daryl replies, taking another drag of his cigarette. He pulls the packet out of his pocket, offering her one. She accepts, lighting it with her own lighter.
"Still. Hurting yourself won't do any good." She tries to reason with him, but he just shrugs. He'd burned himself with cigarettes more often than she probably thought, and he knew he shouldn't be doing it, but it offered atleast some relief. It was hard to explain.
And it wasn't like he was going to stop anytime soon, anyway.
"Don' tell Rick." He muttered, stubbing out his cigarette on the metal, fighting the urge to use his thumb.
"Why not?"
"He'll try reason with me. I don' wanna be reasoned with." Daryl replies simply, watching a bird land in a tree to his left. Rick had caught him once, and had taken away his cigarettes, scolding him as if he was a little kid. He wasn't a little kid, and hasn't been for a very long time.
He was always being caught when he was doing it. It was frustrating. He'd have to stop because there was someone watching him, even when all he wanted to do was press cigarette after cigarette against his hands. It seemed to lull him into a catatonic-like state when he did it, like it calmed his thoughts. He was used to the pain, that didnt bother him. What did bother him was people interrupting his alone time.
"You see where we're coming from though, yeah? You shouldn't hurt yourself. We're not the villains for worrying about you." Carol's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes. He'd had this talk far too many times for his liking. Daryl watches Carol hold her hand out, clearly wanting his cigarettes.
"What, you tryna take 'em off me like I'm a little kid?" He asks incredulously, not making any move to give them to her. "What's the use in taking away my cigs? I'd still have the lighter."
"It's not the cigarettes I want." Carol replies, and Daryl, sensing she wasnt going to leave him alone until he gave her his lighter, fished it out of his pocket reluctantly and handed it to her.
Daryl knew he could find another one within a day, so he wasn't that bothered. He watched Carol put it into her coat pocket, and he huffs.
"Why do you care? I'll have another one in a day, maybe a few hours." He says, catching her eye.
"I know. I just don't want you hurting yourself, and if I can prevent you from doing that for even a little while then I will. What do you even get out of it? Why do you do it?" Carol asks, looking earnestly into his eyes.
"Dunno. Relief, i guess." Daryl says, looking away uncomfortably. "Its weird." He adds, swallowing. She shifts closer, and Daryl can feel her elbow against his. She's so close that he can feel the warmth radiating from her. He fights to not lean into it.
"I used to do it. Hurt myself, I mean. I didn't use cigarettes, but I used my pocket knife. Back when I was a teen. Never did me any good. I know It's not doing you any good." She says with a sigh, and Daryl pauses for a moment, thinking over her words. He hadnt known that about her.
He doesn't say that It's his way of letting out the things he couldnt verbalise. Didn't tell her he didn't feel safe enough to cry anywhere, not even when alone. Didn't say anything along those lines. Far too vulnerable of things to say aloud.
"Better than moping about feelin' sorry for myself." He says. Atleast he can do something with the pain. Could worsen it, or relieve it. He can't relieve sadness. He can calm his anger, but he can't seem to stop the tears when they start.
"Or instead of burning yourself with cigarettes, you could cry like a normal person." She says, gently reaching forward to pull down his sleeve so that she could see the mark. There's a scar below the fresh burn, clearly from repeated burns. She pulls the sleeve back over it, looking out over the wall.
Daryl doesn't know what to say to that. He fidgets with his sleeves for a moment, trying to decide what to tell her and what to keep from her.
"Burning's easier." He settles on, not making eye contact with Carol. Carol doesnt speak for a moment, trying to come up with a response. Or maybe she was hoping he'd open up more. That wasn't going to happen.
"Easier than crying? How?" She eventually asks, looking over at Daryl.
"Dunno. 's just easier."
"When's the last time you cried?" She suddenly asks. Daryl doesn't want to answer, but he supposes it won't do any harm.
"Probably when Merle died." He says with a dismissive shrug. He does miss Merle, as much as he hates to admit it.
"Why not since then?" Daryl could tell she was trying to make it seem less like an interrogation. He sighs, reaching into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. He reaches into her coat for his lighter, lighting his cigarette before putting it back in her coat.
"Not needed to." It was a total lie, but he couldn't think of a reason that wasn't uncomfortably personal. He takes a drag of the cigarette, noticing Carol shift closer so that their arms were pressed together and so were their hips, lightly. He doesn't question it. It was just how they were. Close, proximity-wise and friend-wise.
"Liar." Is all Carol says. She knows him too well for that. "Is it because you don't like being vulnerable? Or is it because you don't want anyone seeing?"
Daryl pauses. He can't bring himself to respond, and suddenly finds himself wrapped in Carol's arms. He freezes momentarily, before slowly hugging her back. He has to swallow hard to shove down the stinging in his eyes.
"Damn it." He mutters, before tentatively resting his chin on her shoulder. Daryl can feel her hand rubbing circles on his back, and it makes him shiver.
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Neither of them speak for the next half an hour in which they hug. Carol keeps a watchful eye over Daryl and over the wall, and she doesn't mention it if she's noticed the tears that rolled down his cheeks. She just keeps steadily rubbing his back, and he buries himself into her.