Merle dixon Picking Up The Pieces

To say you'd had a shitty day was the understatement of the year. Trailing around broken homes and taking whatever you could for an unredeemable area never had sat well with you in all your time surviving. You'd lost your best friend, [b/f/name], to a huge swarm of biters, and it was really weighing down on your wary shoulders. All day you had remained hard-faced, though you wanted nothing more than to sit down and cry – tough as you were, that was oddly appealing to you.To give up, even if only for the night.

But unfortunately for you, people needed you, and today was no different. You'd been on a round with Merle and some of the group hand-picked by the Governor to bring back supplies and had actually done pretty well. Each of your bags were practically full, some even spilling over with produce and useful items. Food, weaponry, drink, all of you had hit the jackpot today.

Yet you still felt so empty. No time for celebration, only to get to your small apartment room and sob like you'd wanted to do all day. As soon as you were dismissed, you practically ran away to get to your house, only for--

“Oi! [f/name]!” You bit your lip, freezing in place. Identifying the voice wasn't a problem – only such an obnoxious person could have such a tone – but it was the desire to deal with him. It was always dwindling due to his sexist remarks, but you toughed it out because you had better things to do than glorify the sleazy comments that passed the other's loud mouth. However, today was different; today had been painful, and you weren't sure how much of Merle you could take. It wasn't even that you disliked him either – you held an odd attraction to his rogue-like ways.

But not now.

“Where y'runnin' off to in such a hurry, huh?”

“Home,” you answered almost robotically, inwardly cursing as you realised the word had not been as brave as you'd have liked it to sound. It wobbled, teetered on your bottom lip as if you were unsure. Tch. You were many things, but never unsure, that much was practically unheard of when it came to your personality.

“You sure about that?” Merle scoffed, weapon-arm swaying dangerously by his side, the other stuffed  laxly in his pockets.

“Very sure.” Without so much as a second thought, you carried on forwards, beginning to make your way back; to your dismay, the other was following you. Damn it, if he expected in like last time, you'd personally kill him. Once had been enough to have to deal with such arrogance, as if you'd owed him or some crap like that. As if.

“Hey, c'mon now, don't gi'me the cold shoulder!” As if on cue, you slammed the door to the block of apartments in his face, trying your best to gain some distance between you and him – but of course he pursued you. As he always seemed to, chasing your tail in an oddly temperamental way. Sometimes he'd be clingy in a way that would drive you mad; not like some dog, more like he grew possessive for no reason at all. And other times, he treated you like shit. As if you were just another woman and that he didn't even know you. Didn't even want to.

Just as you reached your door and flung it open, a blade (which you quickly discovered was actually Merle's arm) was jammed between you and the door closing, keeping it ajar as Merle leaned against the outside of your door-frame, eyebrows tilted upwards. God, it was getting so hard not to lose it now... and this man adding to your frustrations wasn't helping at all, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of tears.

“No need to be a li'l bi--”

“Merle!” you interrupted before you could stop yourself and he paused mid-sentence, even flinching slightly when your voice broke. Your face was beginning to contort into an expression of pain, loss and desperation – and the other man was at a loss for words because of it. Merle was in no way a soft man. Even before the outbreak, he had been as hard as a rock, most difficult to get through to, his brother even suffering that blunt treatment. He wasn't ashamed of being a bully nor did he really try to stop himself... but he did have a pang of sympathy for you as you stood there, unsure of what you were even doing.