[ For a long time it feels as though something is hanging there in the room with them, lingering and unfinished. Then Jesse apologizes and he knows that's it. It's done, whatever it was. Daryl's never known how to fight these fights and he's never wanted to. Never felt he deserved to. He'd let Jesse down, everything had gone wrong, and now here they are. Just like it always goes, he assumes.
He doesn't see the tear because he can't make himself look at him. He just nods, far too quickly after Jesse says his name, and swallows. The words take a little longer. They're finally pulled up from somewhere simple and vulnerable. ]
Yeah. Me too.
[ Just flat. Not bitter or angry, just empty. Like he should have known all of this was coming. Should have anticipated and avoided this conversation somehow. But it's too late to save any face. It's as honest as he can be. He's real damn sorry. Scared for Jesse, worried about the state he's in, knowing he's being asked not to care.
He doesn't run. He at least won't let himself do that. He nods again, slower this time, picks up his pack and laboriously lifts it and his poncho over his head to drape across his shoulders. He's stiff from having sat up the whole night. Dwelling on this.
Now that it's happened, he just feels tired. ]
Don't die. [ His worst fear for him. Somehow he feels guilty already. ] Whole thing really hurts.
[ And he just lets himself out, taking his time down the stairs and closing the door at the bottom quietly behind him. Hoping the kid knows enough to at least lock it after him. ]
[ It feels like his whole chest is constricting around his heart, squeezing the life out of it. A retraction is there, on the tip of his tongue. Wait. I'm sorry. Please, please don't go.
But it's too late for that. He sits there, unable to move, unable to speak, his expression crumpling into one of grief and despair. Daryl doesn't even see it. He picks up his things and plods out the door, each footstep echoing in the near-empty apartment. Then the door closes at the bottom of the stairs, the click clearly audible in the silence, and Jesse lets his head drop, a raw, ragged sob dredged up from deep in his chest escaping him. ]
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He doesn't see the tear because he can't make himself look at him. He just nods, far too quickly after Jesse says his name, and swallows. The words take a little longer. They're finally pulled up from somewhere simple and vulnerable. ]
Yeah. Me too.
[ Just flat. Not bitter or angry, just empty. Like he should have known all of this was coming. Should have anticipated and avoided this conversation somehow. But it's too late to save any face. It's as honest as he can be. He's real damn sorry. Scared for Jesse, worried about the state he's in, knowing he's being asked not to care.
He doesn't run. He at least won't let himself do that. He nods again, slower this time, picks up his pack and laboriously lifts it and his poncho over his head to drape across his shoulders. He's stiff from having sat up the whole night. Dwelling on this.
Now that it's happened, he just feels tired. ]
Don't die. [ His worst fear for him. Somehow he feels guilty already. ] Whole thing really hurts.
[ And he just lets himself out, taking his time down the stairs and closing the door at the bottom quietly behind him. Hoping the kid knows enough to at least lock it after him. ]
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But it's too late for that. He sits there, unable to move, unable to speak, his expression crumpling into one of grief and despair. Daryl doesn't even see it. He picks up his things and plods out the door, each footstep echoing in the near-empty apartment. Then the door closes at the bottom of the stairs, the click clearly audible in the silence, and Jesse lets his head drop, a raw, ragged sob dredged up from deep in his chest escaping him. ]