“Negan please, let’s take a taxi. You’re tired.” You plead, exhausted from the long flight. But Negan shakes his head in a ‘no’ as he takes your suitcases. You’re back from your honeymoon and he’s slightly pissed off after your flight was late. With a sigh you follow him to the parking slot where he quietly cusses about the bill. You told him from the beginning to leave the car at home, but he didn’t want to listen. His car is his everything, next to you, and he was of the opinion that it’s more safe here than on the street in front of your house.
Eyes full of regret and grieve meet yours as you wake up. “Baby?” A croaking voice from crying which sounds familiar, but you aren’t sure. Something’s feeling strange, next to your headache, as you try to sit up with a small groan. “Careful. Y-you shouldn’t. I’ll get the doctor.”
Now that your vision isn’t completely blurred anymore you notice the uncomfortable bright light on the ceiling and the white bed linen you know from TV shows.
Why are you here?
After the man left the room you sit up again and try to get out of the bed. But it remains with the attempt. A cry in panic leaves your throat as you can’t move your legs and you throw the bedcover on the floor. Another cry leaves your mouth as you want to move your toes, but nothing. “No, no, no.” You mumble and scratch over the skin of your thighs. But again nothing. Confused and scared you roll from the bed, trying to get on your feet. You whine painfully as you fall on the floor in the same moment as the door opens. The man who called you baby lifts you up, his voice near to your ear, but you can’t understand the words he’s saying. “Mrs. (Y/L/N)..” Blue eyes staring down at you as he starts explaining what happened. The man sitting on the edge of your bed, holding your hand.
Car accident, temporary memory loss, paraplegic. Probably forever.
The words rushing through your brain, even when you’ve troubles to understand them. “I’ll leave you alone.” “Thanks doc.” You look to the man who has an old patch over his left eyebrow and several scratches which are almost healed in his face and on the hand. “I-I should introduce myself.. Fuck.” His voice dies and he rubs over his face, eyes filled with tears. “I’m Negan and I’m your husband.” “Oh.” You nod understanding and look over his face, the messy black hair, brown eyes and down to his lips, but there’s nothing you remember. “It was my fault.” Negan admits quietly and you frown. “But I’ll make it up to you, baby. Every day, I promise you.”
He keeps the promise. Every day he visits you, accompanies you to the physical therapy and other medical examinations. Also he gets never tired of telling you stories about the two of you and brings the few photos he has to the hospital.
7 month and you’re already married.
“I knew it from the beginning that you’re the right one.” Negan smiles and you chuckle quietly, knowing what comes next. It’s his favorite story. “The way you yelled at me, I thought you’d spit fucking fire every second.” He laughs now, holding and kissing your hand like in an old habit. “You played hard to get for three ass long weeks before you said yes.” “But you didn’t give up.” “Never. I’d have waited three years for a woman like you.” Shyly you look at him, noticing the change. The dark eye bags are faded, the beard and scratches gone and the hair slicked back. Negan’s a good looking man and you can’t hide the blush which creeps over your cheeks. Embarrassed you look down at his hands, the golden ring as suddenly a picture appears in front of your eyes. His hands how they’re holding yours, him on his knees. “Negan.” You choke out and he instantly panics, framing your face. “I remember something.” A cry in relief is the response. “What? What do you remember?” “You were wearing a black shirt. I-I think it’s the day where you asked me to marry you.” “Yes, yes..”
Fragments, little pieces of your memories coming back in the next days. It makes it easier for you and also for Negan as you can leave the hospital. Even when it’s just a few days before you’ve to go to rehab. The house is surprisingly clean. Not that you thought that Negan is a messy, but after spending so much time with you in the hospital… “I had help.” Negan admits as he carries you around. You chuckle quietly and caresses the smooth skin of his cheek, cheeks flushing as you reach the bedroom. “Fuck, I think I never saw you blushing. I like that.” “Shut up.” Softly you kiss his cheek now and he closes his eyes a moment in enjoyment. “You want to rest first?” “No, I want to see the video first.”
It’s hard for both of you. For Negan, because you don’t remember the time with him. Especially now where you watch your wedding video. And for you, because of what you’ve lost. Your legs, parts of your memories and maybe one day Negan when you can’t remember and he looses his patience. “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out, baby.” Negan mumbles and pulls you in his embrace.
of my cats secretly
judges me because
i don’t make my bed.
not just the way he looks
at me, either. it’s
not the way he squints
his eyes at me while
he lies on the sheepskin-rug-covered kitty
the foot of my bed.
actually make my bed he
on and positions
himself front and
in front of the very last throw pillow, equidistant
between the two
sides of the bed.
black and white. my
bed linens are black
and white with
a few red accent
then he looks at me.
looks at me like he’s saying, see? see how nice this is, and see how fucking boss i
look lying here, in the middle
like this? seriously, this is an
instagram moment. well fuck
you, you little jerk.