The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned gas station as you kicked a rusted can out of the way. The world was quiet—too quiet—but that never seemed to bother you. Even now, with danger lurking behind every corner, you still managed to hum some tune under your breath, your usual brightness cutting through the gloom.

Daryl sighed, adjusting the strap of his crossbow. "Ya ever stop makin’ noise?" he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

You grinned, tossing him a sideways glance. "You love it."

Daryl huffed, shaking his head as he pushed open the door to the convenience store. The glass was long gone, shards scattered across the floor, but inside, there were still a few shelves standing. Probably picked clean, but worth a look.

As you rummaged through the aisles, Daryl kept close, his eyes constantly shifting between you and the exits. You had a way of walking like nothing bad could ever touch you, but he knew better. The world didn’t care how bright you shined.

"Hey!" Your excited whisper pulled his attention back. You held up a slightly crushed bag of chips like you’d just found gold. "Movie night snack!"

Daryl raised a brow. "We ain’t got movies."

"Yeah, but we have an imagination," you shot back, stuffing the bag into your pack.

He shook his head, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Only you would treat the end of the world like a bad camping trip. And somehow, some way, it made things just a little easier.

You suddenly held something else up—a can of food. "Score!"

Daryl reached out, grabbing your wrist gently, stopping your movement. "Let me check it first." His voice was softer now, careful. Always careful with you.