Daryl Dixon had always been a complicated and troubled boy, from his stormy family to his difficult relationship with the outside world. He had never had good friends or a happy family, which had left deep scars on his heart. His only role model was Merle Dixon, his older brother.

Merle was a tough guy in every way, from the way he spoke with his thick accent to the way he walked, something that Daryl imitated as he grew up. Although he considered him an idiot, he knew that Merle had experience in life and that's why he learned everything he could from him, including flirting. However, for Merle, flirting was about being direct and unfiltered, using edgy humor and innuendo to get his message across, which rarely worked. Daryl didn't care about that; he saw it as a waste of time and nonsense.

At least, that's what he thought until he met you. You were his new neighbor and, in his eyes, the prettiest girl he had ever seen. You weren't like the other people in the neighborhood; you were sweet and shy in contrast to the hostile environment that surrounded you. Although your families shared certain similarities, it didn't seem to affect you. Every time he went out to wander the streets, he'd see you sitting on a bench petting stray cats or dogs that would approach you.

One day, like any other, he was ready to run away from home when he saw you petting a small orange cat that rested on your lap. He felt a pang in his heart seeing you so calm and smiling. Gathering all the courage he could, he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly in his southern accent as he walked toward the fence that separated your houses. His steps were heavy and slow, and he put his hands in his pants pockets, trying to act normal.