He’s sinking into a pit of self-loathing, marinating in his own gloom, and even as Negan lists his own faults and crimes, somehow Neal tells himself that’s different. That’s who Negan was before, it’s who he doesn’t have to be now or even when they leave this place, if they can choose where they go.

But if Neal went back to his own New York, he’d be going to a New York where the most important person in his life will hand him off to a stranger for his own good.

This is pathetic, the tiny, still-sober voice in the back of his head snaps. Pull it together and stop feeling sorry for yourself.

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning against Negan, still hanging onto his undershirt.

“They will eventually,” he says, calmer than the words deserve, probably. “Decide. They always do.”