𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚. (𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏)

{39} Nostalgia

"you're all I've got now"

•••

It was all so strange. The vibe. The atmosphere. Even the hallways felt different. Brooklyn suspected it to be only because of Negan's absence. It was true- the sanctuary was nothing without him.

Michonne followed closely behind the girl as they wandered presumably towards her old room. Brooklyn had refused to say a word, to her, it was morally wrong. She knew that as soon as Negan would be told about her so called 'death'- he'd be a broken man. So for her to willingly jump in to the arms of the Alexandrians like she was technically doing, Brooklyn considered the situation as going against her own morals.

Once outside the room, Brooklyn abruptly stopped and began to roll the tips of her fingers gently against the lavish handle of the door. It was a sentimental value more than anything else. With little force, she pushed both double doors open, happy that they were already unlocked. "This is it," she mumbled, beckoning Michonne inside, "mine and Negan's humble abode."

The room was just the same as her and Negan had left it before they departed almost two days ago. The bed sheets were ruffled, the silk curtains drawn with a small gap allowing a slither of daylight to stream through and Brooklyn's guitar and lyric book were displayed perfectly on the mahogany table. Their closet was untouched, all clothes and jackets and pants and boots acquainted for.

All was fine- well not really. Brooklyn still wanted to cry, she still wanted to see Negan and she still wanted to leap in to his arms so that she could tell him everything was going to be alright, even though she didn't know whether or not that was the truth.

Feeling slightly out of place, Michonne stood unsurely in the doorway, the dim light outcasting the sleek outline of her figure. "Take as long as you want," she said just above a whisper.

Brooklyn was to occupied to listen to whatever Michonne had told her. Instead, she was to busy rummaging through the closet, searching for something in particular. "Ah hah!" Brooklyn forced a small smile and bent down to grab what she'd been looking for. There, the straps clutched inbetween her fingers, was the same shabby little rucksack that the girl had acquired since the beginning of the apocalypse. It was the same ripped and stained, baby blue bag that had kept her lyric book safe and sound throughout her travelling days.

She thought she'd never have to use it again, but due to the crazy situation, Brooklyn decided to take it back to Alexandria with her- just in case she never got a chance to come back to the sanctuary later on in the future. The girl settled the nostalgic rucksack down beside her feet and unhooked one of Negan's white shirts from a hanger in the closet. It was soft and snuggly, and his sweet, intoxicating aroma was woven amongst the fabric. Without a second thought, she shoved it in to her bag, along with one of his black hoodies and some of her own clothes before sluggishly moving over to the table.

Of course Brooklyn wasn't going to abandon her lyric book and guitar. No, they held to many memories that would always stay close to her heart. So, she carefully placed her book, along with her plectrum inside the bag and swung it on to her right shoulder. Then with her other hand, she clasped the neck of her acoustic guitar and swivelled around to face Michonne.

"I think- I think I'm ready?" It was more of a question for herself, rather than for the Alexandrian woman.

When Michonne was about to reply, however, Brooklyn squealed, "wait- !" And scurried in to the bathroom. She appeared a few moments later with all of Negan's shower gel- just another thing to remember him by.

"That it?" Michonne raised an eyebrow and watched patiently as the younger girl nodded and trotted towards her. "Let's go then."

Brooklyn shook her head and tugged on the strap of her rucksack, "actually, can we make one more stop?" She tilted her head and crossed her fingers, "please?"