05. bruises

Vera didn't see Daryl again until Wednesday afternoon. She had been keeping an eye out for him, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because of what Jordan had said about him, or maybe it was because, in a town where everyone seemed to fit into a box, Daryl Dixon didn't seem to belong anywhere.

Whatever the reason, she found herself pausing when she spotted him fiddling with the strings of his cross bow sitting on his front steps as she walked home from school. Vera hesitated for a moment before walking over. The last thing she wanted was to intrude on his space, but there was something about the way he was sitting there, so still and distant, that made her curious.

"Daryl?" she called, trying to keep her voice light.

He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw her. "Vera," he said, almost as if he hadn't expected to see her there.

"You haven't been at school," she said, standing a few feet away, not sure if she should get closer. She had been wondering about that since Monday, but she didn't want to seem like she was prying.

Daryl shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Had things to take care of," he muttered, returning his attention to his crossbow. His tone was offhand, but there was an edge to it, like he didn't want to talk about it.

Vera wasn't about to press him on it, but something about the way he said it made her pause. "Everything okay?" she asked, even though she had a feeling she wasn't going to get a straight answer.

"Yeah," Daryl said, his voice flat. He gripped the crossbow's string, making a minor adjustment. "Just family stuff." His words were casual, but there was a strange weight behind them. It wasn't anger or frustration—it was just a resigned kind of emptiness, making Vera think back to her grandfathers words about the other Dixons.

Vera hesitated, her eyes dropping to his hand. That's when she noticed the bruise on his forearm, dark purple and swollen, just barely visible beneath his sleeve. She didn't say anything at first. It was obvious that Daryl wasn't someone who liked being pitied, and she wasn't about to make him uncomfortable.

Instead, she looked back at him and offered a small smile. "You know," she said softly, "if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm... I'm not that bad."

Daryl didn't respond at first. He just glanced at her, eyes flicking over her face, then back to his crossbow. "I'm good, thanks," he said, his voice firm.

She nodded, not pushing further. She understood enough to know when to leave things alone. "Okay," she said, then started to turn away. But before she walked off, she looked back. "Just... don't disappear again, alright?"

Daryl didn't look up from his crossbow, but he gave a half-hearted wave as she walked away. "Yeah, I'll be here."

<><><>

Later that evening, James Wilson was out in the yard, fixing up a broken fence post when he saw Daryl out of the corner of his eye. The boy was out in his front yard, just like he always seemed to be.

"Hey, Daryl," James greeted him casually as the younger man turned to him, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Heard you met Vera." He didn't make a big deal out of it, but his tone had the slightest edge of curiosity.

Daryl stopped a few feet away, glancing at James without saying anything for a moment. He didn't look like he was in the mood to chat, but he never really did. "Yeah," he muttered, his gaze moving to the ground.

James grunted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She's got a good head on her shoulders. Not like most kids around here." His statement was simple but there was an underlying message, the town for the most part didn't treat Daryl well, kids included. Vera however seemed different, given her own past it seemed like that kind of thing didn't bother her. 

Daryl didn't respond, but his lips twitched like he might've been trying to suppress a small hopeful smile. "Guess we'll see."

<><><>

Later that night, after dinner, Vera sat in the living room, looking out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. She couldn't shake the image of Daryl from her mind—the way he had sat there by the woods, distant and detached. And the bruise. The way he had mentioned his family issues so casually, like it was just another part of his life.

She didn't know the full story, and she wasn't sure if she ever would. But whatever it was, it was clear that Daryl wasn't just some brooding loner—there was more to him, more than he was willing to let anyone see.

Vera sighed, pushing herself up from the couch. She wasn't going to pry. But if Daryl ever needed someone, she'd be there. 

<><><>