if i believe you | negan

chapter xi.

I STEPPED out of the shower, wiping down the mirror and looking at myself. My eyes had bags under them, due to the restless sleep I had gotten after Negan drunkenly confessed his feelings. I also noticed my hair had gotten shockingly longer, and I felt it was time for a change.

I opened the mirror and found a pair of old, metal scissors. I grabbed them and starting cutting my hair, letting the dead ends drop to my feet. When I was finished, I checked myself out, crediting the good work and loving the new length.

I put on a pair of black jeans and an army green shirt after rewrapping my arm, both starting to tighten around my body as my stomach and hips grew wider with every passing day. I started feeling uncomfortable in the clothing I had and decided to talk to Negan about going for a run for more clothes.

I took the shirt off and put a hoodie on, feeling a little more comfortable. I left my room, leaving my shoes behind as they had also started feeling more uncomfortable every day. I headed to Negan's room, hoping I wouldn't run into any of his other wives.

I knocked on the door, hearing his raspy voice groan asking who it was.

"It's y/n, can I come in?" I asked, looking down at the floor. I didn't hear anything from him and was startled when he opened the door. His eyes were swollen and he rubbed his head as he walked back into his room.

I stepped in, quietly shutting the door and I followed him into the living room, sitting down on the couch. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he laid down on the couch.

"Rough night, huh?" I asked, but he only groaned in response. I headed to his bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing some painkillers he seemed to have scavenged before filling him a glass of water. I walked back to the living room and handed them to him, waiting until he took them to talk.

"Um, I wanted to ask if we could go for a run. I don't feel comfortable in my clothes anymore and I was wondering if we could try and find some maternity clothes." I told him, rubbing my stomach and I noticed him watching my hands.

"Maybe in a little, darling. I'm not feeling too well at the moment." He said, closing his eyes and laying his head against the back of the couch. I didn't know if I should mention him coming into my room, but I wanted to know if he meant it.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" I asked him, replaying our brawl in the hallway through my head.

"I don't want to remember anything from last night, sweetheart. That's why I drank a whole bottle of tequila." He said, chuckling and then groaning due to his headache.

"So you don't remember coming into my room last night?" I asked, hoping he would because I wanted him to explain and maybe assure me that that's how he really feels. He shook his head.

"I went into your room last night?" He asked, his tone filled with worry as he sat up on the couch. He put his head into his hands, almost as if he were trying to remember the events of last night after all the drinking.

"Yeah, you said some things too. Is it true, Negan?" I questioned, watching his facial expressions. He got off the couch, roaming around his room and now I didn't know what his facial expressions looked like so I couldn't read him. "Do you care about me?"

He stopped moving and faced the far wall. I had hoped that he would remember what he said and finally confess, but as himself and not under the intoxication of alcohol. I watched his shoulder straighten and his body went stiff.