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Summary: Corpse needs a little bit of comfort
Warnings: Hurt, so much fluff tho so don't worry, will make you feel single as fuck
Pronouns: gender isn't specific
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Request post
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It was the sound of the door creaking open that managed to tear your eyes away from the novel you were reading, and that drew your attention toward the man standing in the bedroom doorway. Surprisingly, it was Corpse, who you didn't often get to see but on your trip to California, which he's been all but tethered to since you've been over.
You knew immediately something was wrong; you had never seen him look so exposed and open with his emotions before. He looked at you with such sorrow and terror in his gaze that you mentally started, but you kept your face smooth and instead gestured to him openly, inviting him to lie beside you. He shut the door softly behind him, and strode over to the shared bed across the room and sunk into its mattress as if it were something completely natural to him.
He (without protest) laid his head in your lap, not unlike a child, and you combed your fingers through his dark curls, desperately trying to soothe him as broken sobs began to rack his strong shoulders. It was not often that you found him seeking your comfort (not that you often could since you two were long distance), and although you hated to see the man that you loved in such pain, you also relished in the thought that he cared enough for you to let his walls down, to let you in, to let me be there to comfort him.
You continued to try and soothe him for what seemed like hours; you didn't mind this company. You continued to whisper reassurances to him, let him know that you are there for him. You knew better than to try and tell him that it was okay, because you knew that this was something you couldn't be certain of; nothing was ever so black and white with Corpse. He certainly would never be in his current state over some trivial occurrence. No, you knew what had happened, but you instead decided to let the quiet of the room linger, and work to quiet his cries.
Finally, he raised his head, having expelled all the tears he could muster, probably more than he had shed in a good while, and looked at you, eyes puffy and ringed in red. "Why do you stay with me? I must look so pathetic to you," he muttered. His eyes quickly flickered to the cream bedspread, as if ashamed at showing his emotions.
Reaching your hand out to cup his cheek, still damp with tears. You lifted his head so as to look into those beautiful eyes of his. "Never. You are not pathetic, babe. You are special, and kind, and brilliantly gifted, and I wouldn't change anything about you. I will always love and be here for you. Do you understand me?"
You dropped your hand in order to intertwine your fingers with his, calloused and warm, sort of like him, in a way. He was so warm and kind and gentle, just being near him brought a smile to my face. But you knew that he harbored so many scars, in every sense of the word, and built so many barriers, that few were ever able to see his true brilliance hidden away underneath them all. These past few months together had allowed you to find a way beneath all of the scar tissue that he'd built up over the years, and has allowed you to finally see him truly for who he is; you loved everything that you saw.
You motioned to the place beside you, resting your head on the pillow, and invited him to rest there beside you. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he crawled over the small expanse of bedding. You both laid there in a comforting silence for a while; the only sound that filled the room was breathing. Late afternoon light filled the room, casting long shadows across the space. You glanced over at the man next to you and murmured, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
The room suddenly became much tenser. "Not really... Not now, anyways." He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, making an audible thump on the hardwood floor before he stood.
You sighed, frustrated at how quickly he seemed to able to raise those defenses of his. You rose, and walked over to his side. "You know that talking helps, and that I'm always here to listen. Whenever you need me, just say so, deal?"
Offering a smile, which he returned gratefully. "Deal." He laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you giggled at how he had to reach a bit to do so; he was only a couple of inches taller than you. His breath was hot and smelled vaguely of alcohol, you didn't push him though about the drinking.
"You wanna go to your recording room and play a game? Just me and you, no stream, no discord, just you and me." You asked optimistically; you loved just getting to have time with Corpse, even if it was playing a game on the computer, it was just nice to be with him. Corpse's face lit up at the offer, although at the prospect of you jokingly bragging if you beat him, or chuckle at you calling the game unfair and that you would never play it again even though that was never true, Corpse couldn't be sure. Maybe a mixture of both?
He wiped away any remnants of tears from his cheeks, and happily opened the door for the both of you. You chuckled and gave him a playful curtsy in reply, before racing out the door to beat him to the recording room. He laughed wholeheartedly, and ran after you. His arms swiftly wrapping around your waist and spinning you around the room into a kiss, his troubles all but forgotten for a few happy moments.
