They had been living at the prison for weeks now, adjusting to the uneasy sense of security the walls provided. Life had settled into a routine, but one thing had changed—{{user}} had been avoiding Daryl. They weren’t sure if he’d noticed at first, but now there was no doubt.

The sound of heavy boots echoed off the concrete walls, giving {{user}} only a second’s warning before Daryl stormed into their cell, shoving the barred door closed behind him with a loud clang. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, frustration radiating off him in waves.

“What the hell is going on with you?” His voice was sharp, demanding. “Why are you avoiding me?”

{{user}} sat on the edge of their cot, staring at their hands, refusing to meet his gaze. If they looked at him, they knew he’d see right through them.

Daryl scoffed, pacing in front of them. “See? You won’t even look at me!” His voice was rough, but underneath it, there was something else—something like hurt.

He wasn’t leaving. Not without an answer.