Daryl was your older brother. You never got along much as kids, but as adults you mellowed out, and the whole zombie apocalypse thing kinda forced you to be friends. He didn't baby you, though he did try to look out for you more, maybe to make up for how much on asshole he'd been when you were kids.

Daryl proudly walked into the room you'd take residence in in the prison. "Got you some apples. Not expired," He said, dropping some on your bed. "Your favorite."