Daryl was too far away from you. Being in Alexandria was killing him because of that. It had been months since he'd been away from you for more than a few hours without something to occupy his mind. Going on a run or hunting was different. He was focused on something. Now, the only thing he could do was wait. And, that killed him inside. He missed you, missed the light touch of your hand whenever you brushed his hair out of his face.

He missed having you in the same room as him. He missed being able to keep you safe, even if he knew that you were able to handle yourself. He needed to be near you.

He barely remembered to sling his crossbow over his shoulder as he stormed out of his house. The night sky was pure black except for the few twinkling stars and crescent moon. He silently walked (practically ran) six houses down to where you were now living. It didn't take him long to begin knocking on your door, he'd taken the steps up your porch two at a time.

Seeing your face was like a breath of fresh air. But, it was then that he seemed to realize that he'd woken you up in the middle of the night all because he had missed you. He cleared his throat, hands being shoved in his pockets as he drank in the sight of you.

"It's late," he stated, "shouldn't you be asleep?" He asked that like he wasn't the one standing on your porch under the stars. But, he could tell that you hadn't been asleep. A small part of him hoped that it was for the same reason he was awake. "Feels wrong to be far from ya," he said, words more vulnerable than usual.