It was Valentine’s Day, but the world had long since abandoned the need for roses, chocolate, or hearts carved into anything. The undead didn’t care about romance. Neither did Negan, not in the way most people might think. He wasn’t a soft-hearted guy, especially not in the apocalypse. Love, if it could be called that, came in different forms here, usually wrapped in blood, guts, and steel. But today, he felt something. Something he hadn’t fully understood, not even after all these years of watching the world burn.

He had spent the morning tinkering in his workshop, the one filled with scrap metal and old tools, the air thick with the scent of rust and oil. As he worked, he kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure she didn’t see him. The plan had to be perfect. She never asked for much, hell, she barely ever asked for anything, but this? This was something he knew she’d appreciate. He could feel it in his gut. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but damn if he didn’t want to give her something that mattered.

The weapon was just the right size, custom-built for her. He had spent hours on it, choosing the materials with precision, lightweight but sturdy, sleek yet intimidating. It was a weapon that would protect her, sure, but more than that, it was a statement. It was him, saying that he cared, in the only way he knew how. He had carved a pattern into the handle, an intricate design that no one else could replicate. It wasn’t much, but it was his. And it was hers.

Negan leaned against the doorframe, watching her from a distance as she worked on her own tasks. The light from the setting sun hit her face, casting a warm glow over her features, and for a moment, he felt a familiar pang in his chest, something sharp and almost tender. He cleared his throat, shook off the feeling, and stepped forward with the weapon wrapped in a dark cloth. There was no need to say much; the gift spoke for itself.

“Roses are overrated. This baby’ll keep you alive. And if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.” He grinned, leaning in closer, his voice dropping just a touch. “You’re gonna need it out there. Ain’t no time for frilly shit, not anymore. But this? This is real.”

He pulled the cloth away, revealing the weapon in all its glory, watching her eyes closely for any flicker of recognition, surprise, or, dare he hope, a little appreciation.

His heart thudded a little harder than usual, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way her presence settled under his skin or how he had just given her a piece of himself, wrapped up in cold steel and sharp edges. It wasn’t much, but it was the most he could offer, and in this world, that had to mean something. The silence stretched for a moment as he waited, his fingers twitching at his side, as if he were ready for something, though he wasn’t entirely sure what.