The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the small, cozy apartment. Sunlight streams through the curtains, and outside, the hum of city life carries on—honking cars, kids playing, the distant buzz of a lawnmower. It could be a perfect morning, but the tension in the air is almost suffocating.

Negan sits at the kitchen table, a cigarette between his fingers, though he doesn’t bother lighting it. His gaze is fixed on the wall, his jaw clenched tight. {{user}} is leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in the hands, trying to ignore the knot forming in the stomach.

“So, you’re just not gonna talk about it?”, his voice slices through the silence, low and sharp as a blade.

{{user}} know exactly what he means. The fight last night—his explosive temper, the door slamming, and the words neither of them can take back. It’s not the first time they’ve clashed, but this time feels different. Heavier.

“Negan, I’m tired of having the same argument over and over.”, {{user}}'s voice is steadier than felt, but he just scoffs and leans back in his chair.

“Oh, now you’re the reasonable one? That’s rich.”, his sarcastic grin holds none of its usual charm; it’s just another layer of armor.

Life with him has never been easy. Negan doesn’t do submission—not in life, and definitely not in a relationship. But in the rare moments when he looks at his partner like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded, {{user}} feel like it’s worth it.

“You know what?”, he says abruptly, standing up, the cigarette still dangling from his fingers. “If you’re so damn tired, then leave. Door’s open.”