Merle could hear it from where he was sitting on his bed, choosing to drown it out just as he always did. There was no point in jumping in now, it would only result in him becoming more damaged and upset and neither of them needed that. Instead he would do as he always did, pretend he was blind and deaf. The ten year old flinched when he heard young Daryl cry out at the lash of their father's leather belt. Merle knew it very well could have been him, getting wailed on for what felt like no reason. He wasn't even sure what Daryl had done, he was just sitting when he heard his dad starting to yell and Daryl starting to fuss. He didn't know why the boy even fussed back when he was as small as he was. Merle was bigger and didn't mind a fight but Daryl was quicker to back out and leave.
When the whipping sound of the belt stopped the five year old's crying continued. High pitched sobs came nearer as the door to the boy's bedroom opened revealing young Daryl, his face scrunched and stained from tears as he scampered onto his bed. Merle rolled his eyes when the child collapsed onto his blanket, curling into a small ball. That had always bothered Merle, whenever Daryl was upset he turned into a frickin' armadillo.
Merle continued not to speak, continued to pretend he was blind and deaf and could not see the pain on his brother's face, couldn't hear the loud cries. It was much easier to pretend that he didn't know; pretend he was the only one his parents would drunkenly wail on, not his baby brother. He could simply pretend it was only him who would be pushed to the ground, their father screaming in his face with the smell of alcohol still on his breath. He could pretend he was the only one with cuts and bruises, and that he was the only one who would ever have to be afraid.
'Course it could never be that easy. Merle was not blind and deaf and he knew he wasn't the only one to have to endure this. He could try his hardest to pretend it never happened but it was right there, curled up in a ball and sobbing. After a few moments his brother's whining and crying was becoming nearly unbearable. With all his loud gasps for air and disgusting sniffing and choking sounds the ten year old was unsure if his brother could even breathe properly. "Would you shut it?" He hissed at the child. He watched Daryl freeze up immediately. He was still a moment before beginning to tremble and continue to sound as though he couldn't breathe. Merle walked over to the younger boy's bed, standing beside his brother with his arms crossed over his chest. "Quiet cryin' is still cryin', Daryl." He said in a calm tone. In their houses calm voices were rare, Merle could hardly use it himself, knowing how frustrated he already was.
The child whimpered something, it wasn't quite audible enough for Merle to hear a full word but he knew that Daryl was trying to say something. Merle shook his head, continuing to just stand there, uncertain of what to do. He considered going back to his own bed and letting Daryl fuss all night if he wanted. "Cryin' ain't gonna make you feel any better, Darlina, stop bein' a girl." He snapped at the younger boy.
"I can't." Daryl whined, not lifting his head. Merle couldn't see the boy's face which frustrated him.
"Be a man." Merle snapped again, pushing the child's back, immediately regretting it when the child yelped loudly. "Daryl, stop it." He hissed at the child, not wanting to stand there and watch his brother cry anymore. "Toughen up." His voice came across a bit more gentle again.
Daryl sniffed, flipping himself over so he could meet Merle's eyes. The little boy's blue eyes were blood red all around and puffy. It was pitiful. Merle never looked like that, mostly because he never cried. "You ain't gonna make it anywhere if you cry like that, little brother, it ain't makin' anything easier."
"Leave me alone." Daryl huffed, little tears still streaming down his face. "You ain't making anything easier either."
"You get hurt?" Merle asked, knowing what happened. He knew it was their old man, he knew that he was down there whippin' Daryl and while Merle just sat there and pretended it wasn't happening. If Daryl didn't tell him now he could continue to pretend like that. He wondered if Daryl was the same, pretending their dad didn't hurt Merle?
"Yeah..." Daryl said in his quiet little squeaky voice.
"Well.." Merle sat on the edge of Daryl's bed, he gently put a hand on the five year old's back and moved it up and down gently, trying in some way to be the slightest bit comforting. It just wasn't who he was. "Is your back still hurtin'?"
"Yeah..." Daryl huffed, trying to eye Merle from where he was laying on the bed.
"You still feel bad?" Merle raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah..."
"Then what good is all this fussin' and cryin' gonna do you?" Merle asked him, taking his hand off of Daryl's back. "You don't feel better, so why're you doin' it?
"I don't know.." Daryl sat up. He didn't look Merle in the eyes, but wiped his face with his hand. "I can't help it!" The kid snapped defensively.
"Yeah you can." Merle snapped back. "You don't see me cryin' every time I get in a fight."
"That's different." Daryl shook his head, wiping his eyes again. "You're bigger than me."
"That's the biggest sack of shit I've ever heard, the only reason I don't throw a fit like you it cuz I don't let myself." Merle told him. "I toughened up, 'cuz that's what you need to do to survive."
Daryl nodded, no longer crying, just looking at Daryl with those big puffy blue eyes.
"So toughen up for once." Merle shoved the five year old gently, more playfully. Daryl squealed slightly as he kept himself from falling and went to shove Merle back. "No more bein' a sissy, you're my brother, not my sister."
"Okay." Daryl said with a small smile, it wasn't very often that he smiled.
"And don't you EVER cry like that again, you understand?" Merle said seriously, meeting his brother's eyes. "Don't you ever let me catch you cryin' in front of me again?"
Daryl nodded. "Ok Merle, I promise I won't cry anymore..."