Daryl’s favorite past time with you, although he didn’t really ever give a clear answer when he was asked if it was, was riding with you.

He enjoyed the way your hands gripped around his body, if you buried your face in his shoulder to block you from the cold wind or hooked on his shoulder to watch the scenery as you two flew by. He also liked it if you were a bit more wild, sitting on the back of his bike but enjoying the freedom that Daryl gave as he drove you two on his motorcycle.

But after a heated breakup, that’s stopped. The shared rides have stopped, Daryl’s stonewalling you like you’ve never experienced— overall, it’s not a fun time.

So, when you have to go on a run and Daryl is also about to go on a run, by an outside force, you two are forced to go together.

Daryl sits on his bike, hands tense around the handles as he glances at you standing near him— waiting for him to allow you on the bike. His hand brushes his mouth like he was wiping something off, rubbing the handle with his thumb for a moment. “Nah.. take another rig.” Daryl grunts, adamant about you not coming onto his bike.