࣪ ִֶָ☾. oc x merle one-shot (01/?) ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
short one-shot set in Alexandria, with Merle alive and… not exactly redeemed, but changed. He and Kiyara have had time to grow used to each other, though the scars still show.
The sun in Alexandria felt artificial sometimes—too clean, too suburban. Kiyara sat on the front step of the porch, one leg bent, the other stretched out, her boot tapping a quiet rhythm into the wood. The fishnets on her legs were torn again, and the dried blood on one of her twin ninjatōs still hadn't been scrubbed off.
Behind her, the screen door creaked open.
“Y’know,” Merle’s voice drawled as he stepped out, “some folk might say sittin’ on a porch in silence means you’re waitin’ on somethin’. Or someone.”
Kiyara didn’t look back at him. “Yeah? Some folk talk too much.”
Merle snorted. He dropped beside her without asking, one leg swinging off the edge. His prosthetic clunked softly against the wood. He pulled a toothpick from his pocket, popped it between his teeth. Silence passed like a joint neither of them wanted to share.
Finally, he grunted, “Saw what you did today. With the Walker in the garage.”
Her tone was light. “Which part? The stab, the trip, or the sarcasm before the kill?”
“The part where you dragged that scared-ass kid behind you like it was just another Tuesday. Coulda bolted. Didn’t.”
She glanced sideways. “Don’t give me a medal, Dixon. I didn’t do it for hero points.”
He looked at her. Actually looked.
“I know,” he said, quieter than usual. “You did it ‘cause you give a damn, even when you hate it.”
That earned him a sharp exhale that wasn't quite a scoff. Her expression cracked—barely—but there it was. A faint curl at the corner of her lips.
“You been psychoanalyzing me, Merle? Cute.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Figured I’d try, since you always do it to me. Fair’s fair.”
They fell into quiet again. This time it felt less like avoidance, more like understanding. The kind you don’t name out loud because it might disappear if you do.
She tilted her head slightly, watching the sky burn gold-orange.
“You ever think about... what you’d be like if all this never happened?” she asked. “If the world didn’t go to shit?”
Merle’s jaw flexed. The toothpick twitched.
“I’d probably be dead in a ditch. Or locked up somewhere. This world—it ain’t great. But it’s the only one where people stopped pretendin’. It made me ugly, yeah... but at least it ain’t a lie.”
Kiyara nodded slowly. “That’s a depressing way of saying ‘zombie apocalypse gave me purpose.’”
He chuckled. “Ain’t wrong, though.”
Then he bumped her shoulder with his. Just a nudge. Barely there. She let it happen.
“You're not so different from me, y’know,” he said. “Just got prettier words and tighter swings.”
She gave him a dry look. “You’re like me. But alternatively.”
That made him bark a laugh. Real and unfiltered.
Maybe tomorrow, they’d argue about food or weapons. Maybe she’d roll her eyes when he called her “ninja Barbie.” But right now—just for now—they sat on that porch like two pieces of rusted metal that hadn’t bent enough to break.
rose dividers by @saradika-graphics, the bigger ones by @Cheruvic
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