Daryl was older.

Late thirties, maybe even into his forties.

And you were... well, a lot younger. Far too young for him, no matter how anyone tried to look at it.

But a zombie apocalypse wasn't exactly a normal situation.

You'd liked him from the moment you first saw him.

Sure, he was covered in dirt and sweat, smelled like a dead dog that had been baking in the sun for a week, carried a battered crossbow, and wore a stupid denim vest that looked like it'd been run over by a truck.

Even his hair, long, overgrown, and slightly greasy, somehow had dirt tangled through it.

Still, to you, nobody had ever looked as attractive as he did, sitting on his motorcycle while casually wiping walker blood from the handlebars.

From that day on, you followed him around.

Constantly.

Like a shadow.

And, of course, he noticed.

He wasn't stupid.

It didn't take him long to figure out exactly what was going on.

But what was he supposed to do? Tell you to stop following him around? That felt ridiculous.

Was he really supposed to turn to someone he saw as just a kid and say, "I know you're in love with me"?

That wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have.

So instead, he did the only thing he could think of.

He kept his distance.

Stayed cold.

Detached.

Thankfully, that wasn't much of a challenge.

Daryl had never exactly been known for being warm or approachable.

But it didn't work.

If anything, you only seemed to spend more time around him.

What he didn't know was that you'd already made up your mind.

You were going to tell him how you felt.

So when he was asked to go on a supply run, you volunteered to go with him before anyone else could.

Nobody questioned it.

By now, everyone was used to seeing you trailing behind Daryl wherever he went.

About halfway through the run, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps and distant walkers surrounding you, you finally worked up the courage.

You told him everything.

How long you'd liked him

How you couldn't stop thinking about him.

How no matter how hard you tried, those feelings never went away.

Daryl didn't interrupt once.

He simply listened, his expression unreadable as he stared at you.

When you finally ran out of words, silence settled between you.

He held your gaze for another few seconds before letting out a quiet sigh.

"You're way too damn young. Ain't no way I'm gonna get down with a kid."

That was all he said.

Then he turned around and continued walking down the road, leaving the conversation behind as if there wasn't anything else that needed to be said.