Chapter Text
Her heart began to pound when she pulled up to the curb of the house which was bigger than she expected it to be. All the parties she’d ever been to had occurred in far houses down the ways from her families or crappy shot gun houses on the other side of town. This house looked like neither, with a clean driveway and a well kept lawn in the front that was scattered with red solo cups. The bass from the music playing inside the house could be felt through her body before she even got out of the car.
Slamming the door behind her, she started up the long driveway, noticing a passed out boy on the front lawn and smiling to herself. Once inside the house, immediately she felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she saw a stream of familiar faces in the crowded living room and made her way to the kitchen to get herself a drink. Grabbing a red solo cup and a can of BudLight, she heard her name being called from behind her. Turning around, she saw her best friend coming towards her with outstretched arms.
“Tara,” she gushed, pulling the brown haired girl into a large hug, glad to see someone worth having a conversation with.
“Did you just get here?"
“Only walked in about five minutes ago,” Maggie responded, pouring the beer into her cup. "Where's everyone?"
“A group of us drove here together. Rosita, Glenn, ya know the gang. I would've had you come with but I didn't know you were coming."
"Neither did I. It was a last minute decision. Said "what the hell" and jumped in my car," Maggie said, whilst taking a sip of her drink, having to get familiar to the rancid taste.
"Come on, everyone's gonna be stoked to see you." Tara said taking Maggie's arm and guiding her away from the kitchen and into the backyard which was even more crowded than the inside of the house. There were people jumping in the pool and others crowding around a bing pong table that was being used for numerous rounds of Beer Pong.
"Forewarning, your boy is really fucking drunk," Tara told Maggie, making her laugh at the thought of what she might see.
"Not my boy," Maggie shot back which led to Tara rolling her eyes and mumbling an "yeah sure." Arriving to the group, they notice that one of the boys is gyrating to the bass of the music which results in non-stop laughter from everyone else.
“What the fuck is he doing,” Tara asked Rosita through loud laughter, throwing an arm over her shoulders.
“Interpretive dance. He’s been doing this since you left.”
“God he’s shit-faced. His hangover tomorrow is going to be insane." When Rosita notices Maggie, her eyes light up with joy.
"Hey, you made it," Rosita said, slipping from under Tara's arm and embracing Maggie in a hug.
"Must've missed the pre-game," Maggie said, nodding her head towards the dancing boy.
"Nah, he's just a lightweight," interrupted one of the other boys who was sipping a Budweiser. He had dark brown hair that reached the end of his ears and a dirty sleeveless shirt.
"What about you, Dixon," she started. "Which beer are you on right now, you're fifth."
"Fourth. And I wouldn't be talking miss "takes one shot and she's gone," he said stumbling his words.
"Sorry, I couldn't understand you through all the mumbling that just came out of your mouth," she joked, making him glare his eyes at her.
"Here come's the lovely couple," Tara shouted at the two figures making their way out of the darkness, starting to clap as they walked forward.
"Thank you, thank you," the girl said, pretending to curtsy. "Wait, Maggie." She springed forward, wrapping her arms around the girls shoulders and holding her tight, limiting her air supply.
"Michonne, I love you but I can't breathe," she whispered, making the arms unwind from around her immediately.
"I'm sorry," her friend sighed, laughing out an airy laugh. "It's just good to see you. Plus I've had a couple of drinks so I'm really pumped that you came."
Laughing, Maggie assured her that it was okay and that it was good to see her. "Hey Rick," she said, giving a small head nod to the boy standing behind Michonne. He nodded back, giving her a slight smile.
"Guys', I'm not feeling to well," the dancing boy said, coming to a halt and sliding down to the ground.
"That's what you get for dancing like a lunatic for fifteen minutes straight," Maggie stated, leaning down and lifting his head up, so she can see his face which was all too familiar to her by now. His brown eyes stared back into hers as a big smile began to spread across his face once he realized who he was looking back at.
"Maggie," he sighed, leaning his head against her hand. "You saved me."
"Not exactly, Glenn." Looking to her friends, she suggested they should get him home which lead to him pleading for them not to.
"My mom is gonna kill me, I can't go home."
"Then where are you supposed to go," she said, smiling at his pouting faces.
"Can I spend the night at one of your guy's place," he asked, slightly falling asleep with his head against the wall.
"Any other night you would be able to but my parents aren't gonna be fans of waking up to un-flushed vomit in their toilet. Again," Tara stated.
"I promise I won't throw up," Glenn whined.
"That's what you said the last time buddy," she responded, rubbing his head. The rest of the group gave reasons as to why they couldn't house him for the night, Rick's being Michonne already was going to be his guest for the night and Daryl flat out said no.
"For your sake and mine," he mumbled, finishing his can of beer and throwing it on the floor.
"Fine, you can stay at mine but I'm going to need you to at least try to sober up before we go. I'm not in the mood for getting yelled at tonight," Maggie said to Glenn. "Can you stand?" He nodded his head, pushing himself off the floor and standing against the wall. Almost right after he gained his balance, he hunched over and threw up the contents of his stomach on the pavement. Wincing, Maggie placed her hand on his back, rubbing it in comfort.
"At least I won't have to worry about you throwing up in my car," she said and in response he retched again.
Grabbing a can of beer from the kitchen, he heads toward the front door, silently leaving the party. Walking down the street, away from the house that was alien to his normal shack sized home, he opens the stolen can of beer and takes a long sip from it. Pulling it away, a light headed sensation starts to form in his head and decides that he's far away from the house to take a seat on the curb. Fishing for his pack of cigarettes, he pulls it out of his front pocket and places one between his lips. Lighting it, his head snaps backwards as he hears rustling coming from behind but ignores the sounds realizing it's probably an animal roaming through the shrubbery.
After hearing it a couple more times, he get's annoyed, shouting back at the bushes in response.
"If anyone's back there you're asking to get your ass kicked." He took a drag from his cigarette before hearing it again which made him stand up from his spot on the curb and walk right to the source of the noise. Pulling the green bushes back, all he see's is a possum's glowing eyes staring at him.
"Get outta here," he says, kicking the area around the animal trying to scare it away, but it wouldn't move at all. "Go on!"
"You alright, man," a voice from behind him asks, startling the boy and making him turn fiercely. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"What do you want," he asks angrily, staring down at the long haired boy in front of him who seemed to come out of nowhere. He didn't hear his footsteps or any sign of a warning that he would be behind him.
"Just making sure you're good, I mean you are talking to shrubbery."
"Heard somethin'."
"Huh, because it's so unlikely to hear animals roaming through the bushes in the backwoods of Georgia," he joked, smiling at the other boy but dropping it when he realized he didn't find it funny. "Anyway, I was just walking home from the party back there. You're coming from there also I assume."
He made a noise in response to the boys question.
"I'm Paul, by the way," the boy said, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. "But my friends gave me the nickname Jesus."
The boy opposite of him scoffed. "Seriously?"
"It's the hair," Jesus said, gesturing to his long locks. "It's not everyday you see a boy willingly keep his hair long in such a humid place."
"Ain't got no beard."
"Yet," he smirked, making the other boy laugh slightly.
"Daryl."
"Ah, I see."
"See what," Daryl asked defensively, somewhat offended by Jesus' comment.
"Nothing," he said, putting his hands up. "Just a pleasure finally meeting the man behind the stories."
"Ain't go no stories."
"That's a surprise, because I've heard plenty of them." Standing in silence, Jesus starts walking away, before turning back to Daryl. "You comin'?"