Negan x Reader x Simon: "What He Did."

"Change."

Author's note:
Hello!!! Another chapter of Walking Dead goodness for you; this is the longest chapter I have ever written and I love this story. Let me know what you think will happen next!!!
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Word count: 3,305
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"Change."
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The wind blew gently against my skin; I was sat on the porch of a house which I had come across when out on a supply run. The porch was dilapidated, the wooden planks it was formed from were rotten and crawling with bugs. From where I was sat I had a clear view into the forest and the same wind which brushed against my cheeks also played harmoniously with the leaves of the trees in the forest, they danced playfully with one another and the beaming midday sun made the hues of the leaves compliment each other flawlessly. The scene was calming. My ears pricked up at the rustling melody of the leaves, it was a joyous tune.

I stood up from the rocking chair in which I was sat and cautiously head off the porch, being careful not to misplace my step and crash down through the decayed woodwork. I had already looted the inside of the house, finding only a few shotgun shells and a dirty meat cleaver which I thought smart not to take with me, so I sat on the porch to rest for a moment before continuing my voyage into the woods. I strolled through the garden first, the house was surrounded by a once blue picket fence. Now however, the fence bore a light wood undertone and the blue paint was in the process of peeling off. As I strolled through the garden, battling the grass which slithered slyly around my ankles, I noticed a khaki duffel bag in the far right corner of the garden; it was shrouded in overgrown foliage by what seemed like a rose bush, the flowers had wilted and the petals were brown and crisp.

I sauntered over to the bag cautiously as I tried to make as little noise possible to not alert walkers in the nearby area. Once opened, I rummaged through the bag hoping to find something worthy enough to take home and benefit my community - some ammo, food, anything. At the bottom of the bag I felt something hard, I grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a picture frame with a photo of a woman and a child. The woman was young, judging by her youthful smile I could have guessed she was in her twenties. She had a heart shaped face with a cute button nose positioned perfectly in the centre, her teeth white and her lips were the most wonderful shade of pink; she had gorgeous olive skin which had been sprinkled delicately with an abundance of light brown freckles which went hand in hand with her warm hazel eyes.

In her arms was a child, a small little girl who was probably no older than eighteen months. She clung onto the woman, innocently staring into the camera with the very same eyes the woman had but more open and alert. The child had minimal hair, the colour differed from the woman who had dark brown hair which had a slight wave about it; the child on the other hand had a small layer of hair with a red tinge which curled cutely at the front.

It was a beautiful picture.

I gently placed the photo back into the bag feeling somewhat emotional for these people that I didn't even know. It struck me that the bag was filled with men's clothing, I recalled a collection of cargo shorts, buttoned up polo shirts and a selection of briefs. There was no man in the photo however which lead me to believe that maybe the photo was a picture of his wife and daughter, I couldn't possibly know but wherever they were I wished them to be safe somehow. I zipped up the bag and flung it over my shoulder, there were men back home who could use these clothes.

I head out of the garden and through the matching blue picket gate and started my journey through the woods, eager to get home before the sun was down. As I walked I held my hand up to my chest, twisting the wedding ring which was on my left hand; the light caught the hue of the metal much like it did with the leaves and I admired its beautiful golden glow. It was a lovely ring and I cherished it dearly. On the inside of the golden band was a date which read '04.16.07', which was the date Simon and I were married - he never used to wear his wedding ring however, out of fear he would lose it. Instead he kept it in a small red box lined with velvet, which was the box he had used to propose to me with, that he kept in our bedside table. In honesty I never used to wear mine much either, I was never much for symbolism - we knew we were husband and wife regardless of whether we wore a ring or not.