The whole soulmate thing sucked. Royally fucking sucked. Like, take the suckiest thing to ever suck EVER and multiply it by a billion black holes and a trillion vacuums on high and it would be one tenth of one percentile of how much the soulmate thing sucked.

Everyone romanticized it to hell and back. Said it was the most amazing thing to ever happen to anyone and you were the luckiest person in the world if you found yours. But it wasn't. It was just pain and frustration and knowing that no matter what you wanted, no matter how much you wanted to go out and be your own person and build your own life, there was always someone sitting there waiting for you to find them and 'complete' you.

It was that damn ache in your chest because at some point you walked past them on the street and you don't know when or where but your soul called out to them and connected and now you laid awake alone at nightwanting. Just fuckingwanting. Everything else you'd ever wanted, all your other life goals, your dreams, your desires, suddenly and irrevocably eclipsed by the guttural need to have and possess and being unable to. It was despair and desperation and the lack of energy to keep going for anything else. It was dropping out of college and getting a dead end pizza delivery job because the world didn't fucking matter anymore if you didn't have the time to spend searching and searching. But you never find and you run yourself ragged doing a half-assed job and drive yourself up the wall because now you have bills you don't care about but you have to pay so you don't die of starvation or exposure before you find that one brief glimpse of the sun coming out from behind the clouds that never go away anymore.

When the world ends it barely effects you because your world ended years ago. You keep going on because that's all you've been doing and you know how to do it well. You make friends and smile and laugh and get pissed at the racist asshole and his mouthy younger brother who isn't quite as racist but still calls you shit names even when he doesn't call anyone else them. You make runs into the city and you start to let the people of the camp into your heart in a way you haven't been able to for a long time and it makes you wonder if your soulmate finally found their death and you've been let off the hook.

The moment that thought enters your mind you break down. Because wouldn't that just be perfect? The soulmate thing destroyed your life from loneliness, stripped away all your other reasons to live, made you a pathetic shadow of yourself. And it didn't even have the decency to let you know what the person who unknowingly tore you down looked like before it let you go.

No one else understands. They stare at you as you collapse in the middle of the camp and go from laughing at a joke to sobbing like you'd just had your heart ripped out. And you have. It's not the first time, but it hurts all the same. It's a burning pain as you suck air into lungs that can't hold onto it long enough to do any good. Someone's voice says to breathe and you want to argue that you are, but you can't because all you're trying to do now is breathe. You're surrounded by voices and hands and it's suffocating at the same that it's drowning you.

You're about to pass out, you can feel it, you can see the black creeping into your vision, dizzy and blurred, when a shout cuts through the dull thrum that's been filling your ears. It's loud and clear like crystal glasses played with water. Somehow the voice clears the space around you and you can finally come up for air as they push you onto your ass and push your head forward and down so you're doubled over but somehow more relaxed. Your breathing evens out as the voice holds you, hands on your back, rubbing while their words come in a soft murmur in your ears like a picture perfect brook bubbling up over time-worn and smoothed stones. They bark at the others, you can hear them threatening and berating and promising violence on the masses if they don't leave you the hell alone. And it's the most wonderful thing you think you've ever heard.

You laugh again. Not because it's funny or you're happy, though both are true. You laugh because the irony hits you so hard when you finally recognize who's there defending you from your friends. It's that damn racist redneck who targets you and only you with slurs and half the time treats you like you're the dumbest shit in the world. And you can no longer find it in yourself to disagree with that because you are. He was right there. For weeks he'd been there. Right in front of you, pulling your proverbial pigtails and doing everything he knew how to get your attention short of walking up to you and throwing you on the ground in front of everyone.

You can see it all so clearly now that he's there, touching you, holding you, pulling you to his chest and rocking you while you laugh so hard you're crying again. The others hover at edge of your senses but as far as you care they might as well not be there. He's the only one that matters and it fucking sucks so much. It always sucked and it still sucks and it always will suck.

All those friends you were starting to make will always be secondary to the asshole pointing his gun at his brother and yelling that he'll shoot if he gets anywhere near them. Your own life will always be secondary to the bastard you're clinging to who's simultaneously the stupidest, most emotionally constipated jerk you've ever met and the center of your universe. And you hate it and you hate yourself but you love him and you don't even care anymore what anyone else is doing or saying because the sun finally came out and everything makes sense again.

The rest of the world melts away and you feel so alive, so full of energy like you haven't been since the day you dropped out of school. The threats he's making to his brother who still won't back off are cut short by your lips on his and you feel the gun drop from his fingers, his arm going limp for a moment before he's on his back and you're on top of him and his hands are digging into your skin, clawing at you to draw you closer. His brother finally shut ups and there is silence filled only by the moans the both of you make as the universe narrows to just the two of you and don't really know what you're doing anymore except that you need to keep doing it.

It's like being shocked awake with a bucket of ice water when you're dragged off him. You scream as though someone just ripped your leg off with their bare hands. He screams, too, and all you can see is a half dozen hands holding him back while another half dozen keep you from darting right back into his arms. You've never before felt the urge to murder someone but in that moment you know you could, you know you want to, you know you would if you had the strength to shake yourself out of the grip of whoever holds you. And it sucks. Because you aren't that kind of person, but now you are and somewhere in the back of your mind you still care but that little kernel of morality is crumbling away.

Your mouth is covered to muffle the screams that won't stop coming. He's gagged, too. You're both held down, hands yanked harshly behind you to be tied so you can't strike out and tear into the skin of those who no longer matter. The two of you are held there, ten feet from each other, eyes locked and wanting.

Merle is yelling again, but now he's yelling at everyone else. Your mind is starting to clear. The want is still there, still raw, but it no longer fogs your thoughts. At least until you realize that out of all the people talking and yelling now, Merle is the one making the most sense. He's ordering the others to let the two of you go. And you want to nod your head and scream at them to listen to Merle. Listen to the asshole. Let you go so you can touch and hold and kiss and learn every inch of Daryl's body until you both pass out from exhaustion and more.

Shane is shouting back and T-Dog is holding Daryl and staring at you. He's scared and it looks like he wants to agree with Merle and you realize you and Daryl were about to tear each others clothes off right then and there and that makes you suddenly so very sick. It was just Daryl on your mind and you hate it. Because walkers could have come in during that moment and you wouldn't have noticed until they were ripping into the two of you and you aren't even sure you would have cared until their teeth tore Daryl apart.

He's looking at you with tired eyes and you know he's thinking the same thing. He's so ashamed of himself and he hates himself and you hate yourself for making him hate himself. He's finally got his own head clear enough to look around, to stop struggling. He becomes dead weight in T-Dog's arms and Shane finally agrees with Merle.

He nods his head, gestures at Daryl, says something along the lines of 'just waiting 'til he got back to himself' before telling T and Andrea to untie you both. You didn't even realize it was Andrea holding you. Dale was on the other side, it was his hand on your shoulder. He'd been apologizing softly into your ear the whole time and you hadn't even heard him.

It wasn't right. The soulmate thing wasn't right. It was terrible and it destroyed you and you knew that once you finally had Daryl alone and to yourself you'd be praising it like everyone else had before the world ended. You'd be so happy and you'd be making fun of yourself for all the wasted time and you wouldn't even care anymore how miserable it had made you.

Your bonds are cut and the gag taken out and you don't move. You just sit there, weak, tired, knowing that as soon as you stand up you won't be you anymore. Knowing you can't stop it. And he stares at you with that same look in his eyes.

And when he comes to you and pulls you up into his arms and leads you off to the RV so the noise you'll make is as muffled as possible, all he can do is apologize for being weak. For forcing this on you because he can't fight it, he can't stay there waiting. He can't and he thinks he's taking that choice you never really had from you.

You deny his apology, because of course you do. How can you not when he's everything and it hurts you to see him hurting. It hurts you to know he thinks so little of himself when you know you're just as weak. That if he hadn't stood when he did, you would have.

The apologies don't stop until one of you is inside the other and it really doesn't matter which one it is because you're already inside each other in ways that the physical could never match. But you need it anyway. You need him and he needs you and you don't know how long it takes before you're both too tired to move.

He is yours and you are his and the world has never felt more full of possibilities and hope than it does as you fall asleep in his arms, crying because the soulmate thing didn't suck at all even though it totally did.