𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[38]: falling

The sun peeked through the trees that hovered over Daryl. The mud and sand beneath him soaked through his shirt, sticking to his skin. His legs felt heavy as they sunk into the ground, and his neck became sore as it was laying on a rock.

He felt a few bugs crawl across the skin on the back of his hand, as he felt paralyzed. What little vision he had was clouded with darkness.

But the sound of footsteps pulled him back into consciousness. The sun that once blinded his sore eyes was now being blocked by a tall figure that stood over him.

The initial instinct to get up and attack whatever was there wouldn't carry out as his muscles wouldn't respond. He couldn't reach for anything to defend himself, and that tight feeling in his abdomen that signalled danger pulsated.

"Why don't you pull that arrow out, dummy?" he knew that voice. His eyes were playing tricks as a familiar voice came into his eye line. "You could bind your wound better."

He knew exactly who it was, and despite his entire self-telling him it was just an illusion, he smiled of sorts. Even if Merle wasn't really there, a sense of tension released from his shoulders.

"Merle." Daryl rasped, closing his eyes for a moment to calm down from the initial sense of danger.

His head throbbed where blood had started seeping from, but he didn't really care at that moment.

Merle grinned back at him, the edge of his leather vest catching the light. He laughed for a second before analysing Daryl. "What's going on here? You taking a siesta or something?"

"Shitty day, bro," he muttered back.

"Like me to get you a pillow?" Merle mused a smug look on his face as he looked at his out-of-it brother. "Maybe rub your feet?"

"Screw you." The fact that Daryl knew he wasn't really there played on his mind. Questions knocked themselves back and forth through his head as his fuzzy mind tried to take it all in. Even if Merle wasn't there, he wasn't going to let him talk to him like that.

Merle only laughed again response. "You're the one screwed from the looks of it. All them years spent trying to make a man of you, this is what I get?"

If Daryl could move... or if his muscles would do what he told them to, Daryl would get up and shout at his brother. Try to argue back. But every bit of energy was being used to stay awake.

"Look at you," the elder scowled. "Lying in the dirt like a used rubber. You're gonna die out here little brother."

Daryl nearly fell back into darkness until his brother asked him a question.

"And for what?"

"A girl," Daryl replied. He blinked a few times, some dry sand getting into his eyes mixed with the brightness that would peek beside Merle's head and nearly blind him. "They lost a little girl."

"So you got a thing for little girl's now?"

Disgust coursed through Daryl's veins. "Shut up." He tried to put more energy into it, but it only came out slightly louder than a whisper.

"'Cause I noticed you ain't out looking for old merle no more."

"Tried like hell to find you, bro." Daryl flashbacked to when he found his brother's hand and how desperate it made him feel.

"Like hell you did," Merle accused, furrowing his brows. "You split, man. Lit out first chance you got."

Daryl never enjoyed how much Merle made fun of him or how much he accused him of things he never did. Other people's comments would fly over his head, they wouldn't matter, they were just words.