Negan comes into your room and sees you crying. You’re curled up on your side in a fetal position and the pillow has long sense been doused with salty tears.
He doesn’t say anything. He knows you hate those tears. He hates them to—but for a different reason. He can’t stand to see the sight of you in pain.
He crawls into the bed and wraps his arms around you while your body shudders from exhaustion. Brushing your hair, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and holds you as you continue to cry.
“I’m here, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”
