Chapter Text
It was stupid as hell. You knew it was stupid as hell. But that had never really stopped you before.
The food crate was right in front of you. The only thing in your path was a few dozen walkers, but you could see the chocolate pudding label from where you were standing, and you wanted it so fucking badly.
You and Negan had spent many a night in your shared living room with a can of chocolate pudding between you. He would always bitch and moan about how fast you ate, claiming he couldn’t keep up, but you knew he purposefully ate slower and took smaller spoonfuls so you could have the majority of the can. That was just the kind of thing Dads did, you guessed - and if Negan had become one thing to you in the five years you’d been at the camp, it was a Dad.
The run had been pretty successful so far. Negan was carrying a backpack full of various non-perishable goodies for camp when you guys got back, and you’d even managed to find a pack of cigarettes (that Negan had quickly snatched off you with a vague comment about saving your young, untouched lungs). But the pudding was right there.
So you tried to get to it.
You heard Negan shout in panic behind you, but it was too late. You shot a crossbow bolt into the first walker’s eye, and it went down quickly and easily. You darted at the next one, nimble and experienced, and it went down just as easily. You continued this trend for the next few walkers-
Until one that you hadn’t seen crawling towards you caught you by the ankle, and you fell face-first onto the concrete, four walkers surrounding you. Oh fuck.
Your crossbow lay just out of reach, and you had to twist to reach the daggers stuffed in your jeans. Seconds went by like minutes. You watched in slow motion as a walker fell on top of you, its gnashing teeth inches away from your face.
You screamed, but as quick as the thing fell onto you, a knife sliced through its skull and it fell limp. You heard grunts of exertion as Negan slaughtered the others, taking them down in a blind fury that you had only seen him in a few times before.
When it was all over, you were both covered in blood, and Negan was glaring at you with a look that felt a lot like a dagger to the heart. He was angry, and he was angry with you. The thought made you feel shaky and sick. Tins still clutched in your shaking hands, you opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he shut you up with a single hand, lifting it into the air before pointing at the car the two of you had borrowed for your run.
“Get in,” he growled, his voice low. “We’re going back. Right now.”
“But-”
“Don’t, kid. Get in.”
The ride back was utterly silent, and you tried not to look at how Negan’s fists were clenching and unclenching until they were white against the steering wheel. You’d fucked up badly. A lump caught in your throat as the gates of your settlement came into view. Negan was staring dead ahead.
Something sharp ached in your chest as you realised this was it. He’d put up with you for five long years, put up with your quirks and routines and every little thing that made everyone else in your life run for the hills. But this time you’d done it. You’d crossed the line, and he would kick you out, and you’d have to face the world alone again. You didn’t know if you could.
He cut the engine and got out, and like a lost puppy, you followed - back to the home you’d shared for nearly four years. You quietly shut the door behind you, hoping you could sneak up to your room before he had a chance to throw you out.
No such luck.
“What the fuck was that?” Negan murmured, his voice so quiet you missed what he said.
“Pardon?”
“I said, what the fuck was that!” He yelled, pivoting to face you with fury in his eyes. “What the fuck were you thinking, risking your life like that? And for what? An extra food ration?”
You felt tears welling in your eyes as you rubbed your thumbs against the cool metal of the cans still in your hands. “I didn’t-”
“Didn’t what? Didn’t think? Didn’t care? That much is pretty obvious by the way you threw yourself into a pile of walkers for shits and giggles! Do you even understand what could’ve happened? If I hadn’t stepped in?” His face was bright red, his clothes still splattered with walker blood, and you cowered with every step he took towards you.
“You could’ve died. Left all the people back here relying on you, day in and day out, ‘cause you decided your little side quest was more important than any of them.”
His words cut like daggers. Is that really what he thought of you? That you cared more about stupid rations and treats than the people you’d sworn to protect when you joined this community? More the people who had taken you in, kept you fed and warm, loved you like their own?
“Listen, I know-”
“Nah, you don’t know shit, kid. You could have died. Is that what this is? You got a fucking death wish, huh? Or do you just live in some imaginary world where everything is safe and nothing can hurt you? ‘Cause those are the only reasons I can think of to explain why you would decide to attempt fucking suicide over a couple of fucking tin cans!”
He was yelling so loudly you felt the walls closing in on you. You had to get out, get away, before he saw you cry. He had every right to be angry, but you couldn’t handle seeing it firsthand.
“Well?” He demanded, staring into your eyes despite the almost-foot height difference. “You wanna start talking, or are we just gonna stand here?”
That did it. Despite your best efforts, a single sob slipped past your lips, burning your throat on its way up and out. You bit down on your lip, hard, and pressed the cans to his chest.
“I’m sorry, Negan. They’re your favourite.”
With that, you wrapped you arms around your aching torso, and you sprinted upstairs into your room, locking the door behind you and finally letting the tears swallow you whole.