She'd broken his heart. And maybe he tore her's out with the things he said to her, but now she's gone. He looks around his bedroom and thinks he can still see the small imprint her figure made in his slightly disheveled bedsheets. Why did that last fight have to be so brutal, and feel so final? He angrily takes another gulp of his bear, one big enough to almost kick his throat out. He's hurt, borderline depressed and thinks, it doesn't matter what happens to me now, I could drink myself to death and she still wouldn't come back to me.

He wants to hate her but the good memories are to plentiful and their all he has now. They'd met on a blind date, arranged by well meaning friends. That first date was awkward, he was clumsy in ways he initiated conversation and she was closed off, but they found a like mindedness in each other. Their second date was much better, he joked and she laughed. She claimed she found half his jokes even funnier because they didn't land. A kick to his pride but he didn't care. The way she lit up that night, it was like everything around them went pitch black, but her smile was that light at the end of the tunnel.

A few dates turned to months of intimacy that she deemed casual but the way she spooned him at night spoke the truth. He's still angry but even he can chuckle at the fact that for an entire year, every night she was the big spoon and he the little. He remembers the way she'd nuzzle her nose into his back, and how he only knew when she'd fallen asleep when her fingers, that were tightly laced in between his, became slightly undone.

He throws himself in bed and suddenly she's over him, in nothing but one of his tank tops and small lace panties he can feel as his hands move over her ass and up the small of her back. His eyes close and he can feel those lips, overwhelming plump and devouring his kiss so much that he grabs her face for some control. The kiss is flooded with passion and a longing for her to never leave him again. Hands as smooth as silk, colored in rich dark brown against his pale skin, grips the hard flesh of his biceps. His own hands move to intertwine with the coarseness of her dreads while she's tilting her head, her slick tongue massaging against his.

Her bottom lip is pinned between his bite, the flesh only slipping from his teeth as her mouth forms a wide smile. He leans his forehead against hers as they share common breath. There's a gentle graze against his cheek with the back of her hand that forces his eyes to fall shut, he just wants to feel her, any touch she gives him he'll take. Fingers intertwine with his exposed chest hair, followed by her kisses trailing up his neck and along his jawline.

"You miss me don't you?" Her voice echoes in his head.

"I did but now you're here..."

"I'm not here Abraham...I'm gone remember."

"No you're not" he angrily protests. "Michonne you've got to be real, you've got to be here."

There's nothing but silence from her, he opens his eyes and as she's looking down at him with a sadness that cuts him down. There was water lining her bottom eyelids, willing themselves not to fall from her inconsolable gaze.

"I want you to come back." He whispers as he swears he can still feel her but he can't anymore, his hands are gripping the air above him and the fantasy is gone. He sits up, he looks around and realizes that he's alone, realizes that its true. She was gone.

A/N: This was just a little scenario I had in my head that I took a moment to write. What would their combined name be, AbeChonne? Its short and sad, but I hope y'all enjoyed it.