Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Goddamn it.

He rubs at his eye, body heavy as he pulls himself into a sitting position, cover sliding down to pool in his lap as he blows out a heavy breath.

The room is dark, black blinds pulled low to avoid as much as a stream of light into the room. The apartment is silent and he paws for his phone, the cord dropping to the floor as he yanked it out and he stares at it for a long moment before squinting down at the screen.

2 pm.

“Fuuuuck.” His throat is thick and scratchy, and he grimaces, his hand curling tight around it as he pushes off the bed and pads towards the kitchen on bare feet for a glass of water.

The kitchen is bare, as usual, but he isn’t feeling hungry anyway, and he settles for a mug of dark coffee which he cradles between his hands as he makes his way back to his bedroom and the computer waiting for him.

I promised a stream today, didn’t I?

He drops into his chair, dragging fingers through the curls of his dark hair.

There’s a pooling of dread deep in his gut, a jittery sort of anxiety already crawling up on him and he hasn’t even-

He hasn’t even turned on the fucking computer.

There’s an old bottle of water on his desk and he sorts through his medications, downing and washing them down as the screen powered on, momentarily blinding him and he turns his head away with a curse, rubbing at his eye, the other covered by the familiar eyepatch which crinkles as his fingers brushes against it.

There are programs open and waiting for him – things for his music, discord quieted and put on offline mode, various tabs open on things that had caught his interest to be browsed and his gaze lingers on the youtube tab and the barely visible syk-

Friends, he reminds himself, as he opens up his discord and flips the little offline icon into online. I have friends waiting for me.

It’s such a strange new thing and it feels frail – like he’s just a fraud waiting to be exposed once the excitement of his voice has died down and he tries to not read too much into the jokes made.

He’s used to the reaction his voice gets and he’s thankful to finally be able to pay for medications and hospital costs but he hasn’t left his apartment in days.

Scrolling through videos made from his friends from their streams, seeing the speculations about what he looks like, questions and pressure to just give a hint, to tell them if he’s hot, if he’s handsome, if he’s-

They’ll be sorely disappointed if my face ever leaks, Corpse thinks as he leans back heavily in his chair. Why are they so damn curious anyway? I just want to be left alone.

The anxiety of leaving his apartment is getting out of hand, he knows. It’s not healthy to survive on coffee alone but his voice is such a fucking tell. All he needs is for the wrong person to hear him, to take a picture and post in on the internet and-

He’d seen that poor fuck who everyone thought to be him and he knows the same thing waits for him once that day comes.

He scrubs a hand over his face and glances towards the active Among Us chat where the small pictures keeps lightening up.

With a pang of disgust at himself he realises that he’s the last one to arrive because of course he fucking is. Letting them down before he’s even-

He shoves his headphones on, turning the microphone closer, clicks it and-

He can’t help the way his mouth tips up a bit tiredly at the enthusiastic greetings.

“CORPSE!” Rae.

“I guess that means we’re all here then.” Toast.

“I’m so excited for today’s game!” Poki.

“Wait, no-one told me Corpse was joining us.” Lily.

“Hey man, glad to have you here.” Pewds.

“About time!” Jack.

“I-I’m happy you’re here, Corpse.”

He picks out Sykkuno’s voice easily through the rest, quieter, a bit shy almost but so damn genuine.

“I’m glad to be here too, Sykkuno.”

-

He’s on his third cup of coffee and jittery, trying to relax and just-

But it’s hard, knowing that everyone is watching, listening to everything he’s saying and making assumptions about him. He tries to be honest – about his issues, the anxiety and deep void that seems to exist inside of him to drag him down but he doesn’t know how much of it comes across as genuine.

He’s not looking to be a charity case, he doesn’t want pity, but he’s hyperaware of the way the chat floods with it anyway.

Words that flashes by when his ghosty avatar floats dead, tasks finished, absently trailing along Sykkuno who appears to be on some sort of mission after finding his, well, corpse in storage. He tries to ignore it – eye trailing the little leaf on top of the head of the green space jellybean following Rae’s red one.

He finds himself wishing for those cute little cat ears – remembering the Halloween picture and the way Sykkuno’s hand had pressed up over his mouth, shy and laughing a bit awkwardly despite the fact that he’d worn them-

Not for me, Corpse reminds himself as a meeting is called on the screen. But he’d wanted me to see.

It’s endearing. Sykkuno is… soft. Happy. The opposite of everything Corpse is with his dark gravelly voice and depression dragging him down, anxiety thick in his blood, years missed by illness and just crap.

“I started streaming because I wanted to make friends and-“

Corpse had started streaming because he needed the money and the only good thing he had going for him is his voice. He can barely get out of the bed most days, hadn’t finished school properly which made him just about useless for anyone looking to hire, not that he’d ever be able to hold down a normal 9 to 5 job anyway but-

Face reveal-

His voice-

I keep listening to E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE over and over and-

My favourite artist-

Face reveal-

I love his and Sykkuno’s relationship-!

Face reveal-

Aww! Look! Look! Corpse is petting him!

MAYDAY

My heart-

Corpse x Sykkuno-

His eye widens and his gaze flashes guiltily to the screen where the mouse had been slowly moving over the head of the green avatar in a slow rhythmic petting motion and he stops abruptly, heart pounding in his chest as he jerks it aside, swallowing thickly.

It’s strange how drawn he is to the other man but there’s something that just makes everything so easy with Sykkuno. When his voice gets drowned out, a second attempt caught in the flood of voices and he’s ready to just not speak ever again there’ll always come a reassuring word or answer directed to him and him only and it’s great. Honestly.

He’s so used to just stand on the side-lines, his anxiety getting the better of him more times than not, that it’s startling to feel seen and acknowledged.

Kind. That’s what Sykkuno is. They all are.

“I’m really glad to be here with you guys,” he musters up at the end of the round when they’re back at the lobby, making his best attempt at speaking up before anyone else could. “Just- really happy.”

There’s silence for a moment and he stares at the screen in his dark apartment, embarrassment curling through him.

And then-

“Aww, I’m happy too-“

“-such a sweetheart-“

“You’ll make me blush, man-“

“Those words with THAT voice-“

His finger trembles where it lingers on the button for push to talk and he curls his fingers tight.

I wish I could tell you guys everything, he thinks to himself as he sinks back into his chair, hands pressing against the headphones over his ears as he drinks in the voices of his friends like a man drowning. I want to hang-out with you guys in IRL in that house you all live in together.

He opens his eye.

I wish I was normal and not this… mess.

-

I’m starving.

Corpse stares into his fridge, bare bones, not much to offer than an old cartoon of milk and a half-eaten box of old take-out food that is at least a week old.

He scratches at his chin as he closes it shut and reaches automatically for the coffeemaker, pausing as he realises with a curl of dread that-

Yeah, he’s out of coffee.

Fuck, he thinks with feeling, leaning back against the counter and tipping his head back against the cupboard with a thunk.

He’s on nothing but an old white tee with a dark coffee stain and black jeans but he honestly doesn’t feel like changing. Really doesn’t feel like leaving his apartment at all but-

Coffee. And-

Fuck, he’d kill for some boba tea right this minute.

He looks across the kitchen to where the apartment door is just barely visible in the dim light from the single bulb dangling above him. There are thick locks on it – five different kinds because he hadn’t felt safe sitting and streaming with headphones over his ears without being at least reasonably sure he’d at least hear if someone attempted to get in.

It’s his fucking paranoia, and he knows it, but it makes him feel better so it’s fucking whatever.

His hair is oily and he should take a shower but he lifts his arm over his head to give a sniff and- it could be worse, honestly.

Guess we’re doing this then, he thinks with a resigned sort of dread as he forces himself into motion.

-

Scarf wrapped tight around his neck and all the way up over his nose, beanie pulled low to half-slant over his eyepatch and hide his curls, mask on, feet chafing in his boots because he hadn’t been able to find a clean pair of fucking socks-

I’m so glad no-one knows that I look like. If anyone asks I’m just gonna be Kakashi for today.

He’s sure he looks ridiculous, jacket zipped high despite it not being that cold outside, basket piled high with his favourite brand of coffee, only barely making space for food alongside it.

His back aches and there’s a tremble in his fingers so he knows better than to linger for long, not that he was planning on it anyhow, but all the same.

He shoves some ramen down on top of the jam and toast he’d grabbed and makes a turn, halting as he found himself staring down the long rows of wine. Red, white, all crowding together and-

His mouth waters, the craving for something to just numb everything nearly overwhelming him as his hand reaches out and-

“But what about-“

“I still can’t believe I’m stuck with all of you-“

“Rae! Stop that-“

“No, no, no, we still need wine for the party tonight-“

The voices are familiar in the worst kind of way and Corpse stands frozen, arm outstretched, eye locked on the three people that had rounded the corner, instinctively sinking deeper into his scarf, dearly wishing he could just stop existing because why out of all fucking days and all fucking hours were they here now.

Rae, Toast, and Jack-

Corpse knows that it had only been recent they had all officially come together, Jack the last to join them, some sort of project to give streamers a way to connect and live together where fans wouldn’t bother them day out and day in. Most of them had already been staying together but it had been expanded after weeks of Among Us gaming together and-

Here? Why are they here? They're not supposed to-

It had been discussed during on the screens as he floated silently around in his death, trying not to feel terribly envious and mind-numbingly horrified by the very prospect of someone even thinking about inviting him. The idea that they could be anywhere near him hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He realises he must look like an idiot with his arm outstretched and frozen in place and his fingers closes blindly around the closes bottle of red wine, knowing that he shouldn’t, too panicked to care as he shoves it into his basket and-

It’s full and there’s no space and-

I spilled wine all on my black shoes, he thinks with something hysterically horrified flooding through him as he stares at the pool of dark red spreading all around his converse, slowly lifting one up and turning around, intent on just getting the hell out of there-

“Wait, wait- there’s glass there-“ Jack’s voice makes him jerk, stilling, and he looks down, his panic making it hard to focus but finally finding the large piece of green glass beneath his thin shoes and-

He swallows, refusing to look up at the older man as he steps down beside it and-

I can’t just leave it there, Corpse thinks as he stares down at it. It wouldn’t be fair for the workers here to handle my fuck-up.  

The air reeks of the scent of wine, making him nauseous, and he wants to be home in his bed.

This is why I never leave my apartment, he thinks, self-loathing thick. Can’t even shop without causing a fucking mess-

“Hey, man, are you okay-?” A hand curls around his bicep and Corpse flinches back, eye snapping up to find Jack with his brow creased, hair pulled back in a bun, eyes so damn kind and worried and-

Don’t look at me like that, he thinks as he curls his arm tight around himself, fingers growing numb from the white-knuckled grip he had on his basket dangling in the crook of his arm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jack’s voice is softer now. “Just worried – you looked like you zoned out there for a bit.” He offers a smile. “My friends are grabbing for someone to come help with the mess so don’t worry about it- I’m sure this happens pretty often. Just be happy it wasn’t oil of something like that!”

Corpse nods a bit tensely, uncomfortably aware of the fact that the other is taller than him, because his health had fucked with his height, another one of those things that people on the internet got wrong because he wasn’t some statuesque 6’3 god.

I can’t even thank him, Corpse reaches up to tug his beanie further over his eye, making sure the eyepatch was well and truly out of sight beneath it. He’d know before I could get a single word out but-

He raises his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing down just beneath his lips, and then out, hoping, and-

“Oh!” Jack straightens up. “You’re- that’s thank you, right? Or can you – I mean, are you deaf-“ He points to his ear. “Or mute-?” He points to his throat and Corpse echoes the last one with an awkward little jerk, his muscles tense, and he shoves his hand down his jacket pocket immediately after to hide the trembles working its way through him.

Jack merely grins. “Got it. Name’s Sean. I don’t know a lot of sign-language unfortunately. Just, you know, little things here and there.”

Corpse jerks his head down in a stiff nod of acknowledgement and he knows – that only a handful actually calls him Sean. He’d wanted that permission but he hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to ask and he feels like a fraud, being offered it here, like this.

He must think me absolutely pathetic, Corpse thinks with some resignation. So much for good first impressions.

Jack leans forward towards him and Corpse stills. “You can leave if you want,” he says, gaze sympathetic. "You look pretty pale.” His mouth twitches up in humour. “You should grab something more than coffee and ramen, though. Fruit is good for you,” he winks before turning as Rae came trotting around the corner and-

Corpse turns around like the coward he is, grasping two bottles of wine as he does because-

Grape is a fruit.

And fuck, he needs it.

-

Corpse drags his covers up over his head, burrowing down, face squashed against his pillow, the world a miserable mess of his stomach twisting after too much wine on an empty stomach and-

All he can think about is Jack’s eyes, the hand that had curled around his arm, for just a moment, and how everything inside of him had wanted to have it remain there even as all his instincts had told him to fucking run.

“Stupid brain,” he groans with a raspy drag against his vocal chords. “Can’t even pretend to be normal for five fucking minutes.”

Chapter Text

Corpse knows it’s going to be one of those days when he cracks his eye open to an agonizing sort of thick pain crawling through him.

Breathing hurts and he sinks deeper into his covers, one hand worming out, trembling badly as he paws for his phone and pulls it back down under the cover with a yank of the cord which drops to the floor.

There’s a headache pounding inside his skull, heightening with the pounding of his heart, and his vision is fuzzy as he curls on himself.

-

He must have dozed off.

Too tired to move, too tired to even crawl his way to the bathroom despite knowing that he really had to fucking pee, too tired to exist. His throat is dry as a desert and his phone is buzzing in his hand, trembling fingers clamped tight around it like a vice.

His throat rasps loudly in his ears as he slowly pulls his phone up, letting the dark screen light up in the shadows of the room, thankful he habitually kept the brightness on the lowest setting as he squinted at it.

Discord lets him know he has over 99+ messages waiting for him, several missed calls, and-

Jack’s name lights up the screen, the low rumbling buzz making him stare as he breathes in and then out.

In and out.

The call stops.

And then it starts anew and Corpse grimaces as he swallows, clearing his throat with a wince before his thumb presses down and drags the bar across the screen, pausing and then letting the call connect with a low click of confirmation.

“Corpse!” There’s relief in Jack’s voice as Corpse presses the phone against his ear, staring at the bare wall, finding one of the many marks where one of his knives had hit its mark. “Hey man, we were getting worried about you.”

We?

His head is fuzzy, heavy and thick, like someone had shoved a thick cloud of cotton into it.

“Why?” he gets out, his throat rasping in a way that isn’t good.

There’s a pause and Corpse spares a moment to drag his hand across his face and then up through his messy curls as he pushes his heavy body into a sitting position. There’s thick crust at corner of his eyes and he digs his thumb beneath the eyepatch to rid of the worst of it with a drag of his nail.

“You were supposed to game with us today. Did you forget?”

Corpse stares at the wall, self-loathing flooding through him, settling thick and heavy in his chest.

His shoulders drops and he tightens his hold on the phone, ignoring the way his muscles cramps uncomfortably. “I’m sorry-“

“You sound like death warmed over,” Jack interrupts him. “I normally enjoy that sexy drawl of yours but it sounds painful. Are you okay? Is it the gerd thing?”

“Um. Yeah.” Corpse rubs tiredly at the back of his neck, closing his eye with a grimace as pain flared up in response. “What’s the time?” he squeezes out.

“It’s almost five pm.” There’s a cautious note to his voice. “We were supposed to stream at three.”

Fuck, Corpse thinks tiredly, biting back a noise of pain as he shifted, slowly getting one and then two legs off the bed, toes curling in protest as they pressed down against the cold floor.

“I was asleep. I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t worry about it!” Jack interrupts him quite firmly and Corpse quiets. “Felix jumped in so it turned out alright. I actually-“ Corpse hears the muffled sound of voices being covered up briefly. “We’re still playing and Rae just told me to let you know she misses her Impostor buddy.”

“I got three games with freaking Toast!” Rae’s voice reaches him tinnily through the speakers. “Do you have any idea of how horrible that was!?”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You are! I keep-“ There’s a stream of loud voices blending together which makes him wince, pulling the phone away from his ear. “And don’t even get me started on Sykkuno!”

“Wait- what did I do?”

“Don’t you play innocent with me, Sykkuno. I’m not falling for that! Not after you-“

Corpse realises a bit belatedly that Jack must have yanked his headphones out of the earphone jack, the familiar voices reaching him easily enough before abruptly getting cut-off.

“There’s a spot open if you want it,” Jack says as Corpse carefully maneuvers onto his feet, swaying for a moment as vertigo stole across his vision before settling, and he ignores the familiar nausea that claws up his throat.  “But if you’re not feeling well then maybe it’s better if we take a raincheck on it?”

Corpse slowly shuffles his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up with water from the tap.

“I want to play,” he musters up after taking a long swallow, one palm pressing down against the cold counter to steady himself, forehead dropping forward to press against the cupboard in front of him as he closes both eyes. “But I can’t today.”

His entire body hurts, he’s trembling, his vision is blurry, and the thought of sitting in-front of a bright screen makes his shoulders curl tight.

He doesn’t know how much Jack knows about the crappy stuff going on with his body. There had been streams out there, old Q&A’s where he’d made an attempt at talking about various things after a long absence, but-

He’d looped those until he’d felt sick to his stomach, eyes focused on the stream of words in the chat, people telling him to moan while talking about the paralysis of both his fucking arms and-

Corpse had ended up deleting them in an effort to further scrub his presence off the internet, embarrassed for reasons he had trouble rationalizing to himself but wanting it gone.

It had felt… humiliating. Yes. That was the word for it. To be reduced to nothing more than his voice for three long hours.

He’d prefer it if his new friends didn’t see that. Ever.

“Corpse?” Jack’s voice makes him jerk and he realizes he must have been zoning out, cracking his eye open to stare at the wood in front of him. “I muted myself, okay? Can you – can you do me a favour and just tell me you’re going to be alright?”

Kind.

Jack is just so, so kind.

“I just… need to sleep,” he mutters.

“Will you be able to? With the insomnia and everything?” Jack presses. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s fine.” Corpse can feel the heat crawling up his cheeks. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You’re my friend, of course I’m going to worry!” Jack protests but Corpse notices that he doesn’t raise his voice, the consideration a bit overwhelming quite suddenly as he recalls the way Jack’s eyes had looked up close. “I’m serious – if there’s anything I can do, please tell me. You sound like-“ There’s a moment of hesitation. “You sound like you’re in pain,” Jack says quietly.

“Just… a rough day,” Corpse says, clearing his aching throat with a wince. “It’ll pass.”

His bladder is making him uncomfortably reminded of the fact that he’s been neglecting himself again and he reaches up, hand clenching around a fistful of curls with a tug in an attempt to distract himself from it.

“Go back to streaming, Jack. They’re waiting for you.” His voice cracks, nausea curling in his gut and-

He’s exhausted. The pain making him want to crawl under his cover and not come out for days.

“I- fine. But you have my number so if you need me – I’m just a phone call away, okay? You’re my bud. My pal. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

The words makes him feel both hot and cold, a strange mixture of dread and something horrible warm in the way his heart squeezes tight in his chest.

“Thank you, Jack.”

-

The shower is warm, water running down his aching muscles, soothing the straining tension of his headache as he massages the back of his neck, forehead pressing against the cold tiles of the wall.

He stands there for a long moment, just breathing.

The lamp is turned off, making it next to impossible to make-out the label of the bottles around him but he reaches blindly, patting them down, takes a gamble and-

It feels… nice to be clean again. To scrub the sweaty stickiness of his cold sweat away, to get the oily feel of his hair scrubbed off to disappear down the drain.

Makes him feel more human and less like a mess.

His hands are always the worst during a flare-up and it’s a pain but he balls up his hands and uses his fists to scrub down his shoulder and chest, taking plenty of rests between it, forcing himself to be patient with himself even as frustration crawls through him.

At least you can move them, he thinks optimistically as he steps out of the shower and drags the towel around his hips, shouldering the bathroom door open and padding towards his bedroom with water dripping down his body, leaving wet prints behind him.

Underwear, a thick hoodie-

He almost regrets it when the long sleeves tangles, heavy against his wet skin, but he tugs them down before allowing himself to slowly sit down on the bed before dropping back against the covers with an exhausted breath of relief.

He should-

-

Corpse wakes up with a small start, momentarily disorientated before his eye focuses on the familiar stretch of his ceiling above him in the darkness.

He’s sprawled out uncomfortable, his back aching as he drags himself up, but he feels-

Better. Which is a relief, his chest rising and lowering without feeling like he had fire crawling through his veins and he drags a hand through his hair – the curls messy, but dry, in need of a combing, he realises as he spares a moment to untangle his fingers from it.

He finds his eyepatch on the sink in the bathroom and slides it in place before starting on his teeth.

He’d been lucky that his teeth had fared as well as they had with his gerd and he makes sure to floss, brushing as he counted down from thirty twice, and then rinsing it all out carefully with mouthwash that he gurgles before spitting, mouth parted to let the last drops out with a huff and wrinkle of his nose.

His kitchen is actually reasonably stocked for once and he makes himself a toast with some yam while the coffeemaker rumbles in the background, hauling it all back to his computer before dropping down into the chair, allowing himself to give it a spin with a small twitch of his mouth.

Work. Right.

The screen powers on as he makes his way through his toast, eye flickering down to the time and-

1 pm.

“Could be worse, honestly,” he hums as he swallows down half of his coffee before dragging his headphones up over his ears.

-

Despite the light being turned as low as it would allow him his eye is still straining from the hours in-front of it as he leans back, breathing out with a sigh.

“Thursday… that means tomorrow is-“

He opens up youtube, typing in FONKY MONKY FRIDAY, mouth twitching up.

“Gotta be prepared.” He pauses. “Did I promise a stream?” He can’t remember.

It takes him a few minutes to hunt down his phone, finally finding it in the kitchen beneath the bag of bread, the battery on a measly 22% from forgetting to charge it.

There’s messages – several from Jack, his discord reminding him that several people had been trying to reach him yesterday. Hopefully Jack had… cleared that up.

His memory is fuzzy on the details. It always is after bad flare-ups, his brain focused on… other stuff.

Had he even taken his pain meds? He can’t remember.

Crap.

He drops down on his bed, pausing in surprise as he opens the messages from Sykkuno to find at the very bottom-

Do you want to play Among Us with me tomorrow?

Followed by a hurried-

I’m making a lobby.

I’d love for you to be there.

And then-

Rae will be there too.

It had all been sent within a minute, the nervousness clear even through text and Corpse responds without thinking about it.

I’d love to play with you tomorrow.

He stares down at the message but before he can clarify three dots appear and he settles back, leg bouncing a bit nervously, a jittery sort of energy working its way through him.

Corpse! I’m so happy!

I hope you’re feeling better today :)

We missed you yesterday.

His mouth curls up, leg stilling.

I’m good.

I missed you too.

He hesitates, glancing at the screen of his computer across the room, but then dips down to dig up the cord of his charger, plugging it in and sprawling out on his stomach to make sure it could charge up properly while he responded.

So, tell me about the game yesterday. How did it go?

-

Doing better today?

The message pops up 8 pm on the dot and Corpse realises that Rae must just have wrapped her stream up only to text him nearly immediately after.

Jack said you had a rough time yesterday.

Make sure you don’t over-do it!

The… fussiness of the texts makes him rub at his cheek, feeling suddenly and inexplicably warm as he contemplates how to respond.

Valkyrae is… curious. Warm and lively. Clever – so damn clever. They’ve played together a lot now but she still surprises him, differently from the wild card games Sykkuno runs, and the sometimes trollish-games of Toast. She doesn’t allow herself to get predictable and she’s quick to put two and two together in ways that makes him marvel.

I’m good.

I heard Sykkuno is putting a stream together.

He only has to wait a moment before the reply comes rapid-speed.

I’m glad you’re feeling better :)

We’re working on his character development.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

I’m looking forward to his new arc.

He presses send.

We’ll have to boost him up tomorrow, Rae responds before-

Have you had dinner yet?

No, he admits after a moment of hesitation.

Me neither :(

Thinking of ordering something in. No-one saved anything for me.

Get something obnoxiously delicious in revenge.

Oooh. Oh! Like – how about sushi?

Or a double-combo, Corpse writes back, ransacking his mind for the memory and- Sushi AND Korean BBQ

I like the way you think.

He tugs at the strap of his eyepatch.

What are you getting?

Corpse… hadn’t been planning on getting anything at all. But-

Sushi, he types in after a long moment.

He scrolls open his contacts as his phone dings, swiping down the saved numbers and pausing at one of the sushi places he had saved, picking one randomly with a press of a thumb because a liar he’s not.

And… he’d been kinda hungry anyway, he realises.

-

Corpse has a hard-time sleeping.

It’s been that way for… years now. For as long as he can remember, if he’s honest with himself. It was as if his mind had just been wired differently from the beginning and during the years he’s tried a number of different things.

Sleep just… isn’t for him.

He flicks his knife, spinning it between his fingers, the motion familiar, repetitive, and strangely relaxing.

The eyepatch had been digging into his skin, cutting off circulation, and he’d traded it for his beanie which he’d pulled down low, squishing the curls of his hair beneath it.

He’d even gone through the motion of putting on a pair of soft old sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt, the fan spinning somewhere to the left above him, just outside his field of vision, wafting cool air upon him.

He’s… excited for the stream tomorrow.

Sykkuno, Rae, Toast, Jack… It sounded like Poki and Lily might make it as well and Rae said she’d spied Sykkuno fuzzing about whether inviting Felix would be alright or not.

Apparently he and Marzia had been out for the day, he’d been told, Rae holding up an easy conversation with him while waiting for her food to arrive.

It’s a bit weird, living together like this, but we’re two or three on each floor and there’s a communal floor for food and stuff so we see each other pretty frequently. It’s all good fun though! Poki and I are on one floor and Toast is regularly poking fun at Sykkuno for waddling to his door like a lost penguin looking for affection-

The mental picture had been adorable. He’s glad they’re…

I’m glad they’re happy.

He wants nothing else for his friends. Honestly.

His hand twists, the knife slamming into the wall beside him, digging a hole in beside another one already sticking out, and he paws blindly beside him until he finds a third one and starts up the motion again.

I wonder what that’s like, he muses. To be happy.

Chapter Text

People take me far more fucking seriously than I’ve ever taken myself.

It’s a strange sort of realisation that settles in after his blank tweet which, reasonably, should not get as much hatred as it does. Envy, he supposes, massaging at his aching left hand as he stares blankly at the toaster, waiting for the ding.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Corpse shoves a hand into it, delicately extracting the thing, letting it dangle from the tips of his fingers as his brow furrows.

It’s Toast, calling on discord, and Corpse lets it go through, curious to see if he’d try again.

There’s nothing for a good moment and he jerks with a start as the bread popped up.

He gives himself a mental eye-roll as he reached out to snag it.

There’s a heaviness to his body that is familiar, fingers twitching and trembling even as he clenches them tight around the warm cup of coffee, toast dangling from his mouth, mask shoved down around his neck as he ambles to his computer.

He’d caught a solid three hours of sleep and he’s feeling pretty good about it, humming as he dropped down in his computer chair, giving a shove of his foot to slide in front of the screen already bright and ready for him and-

A discord bubble pops up, phone buzzing, the sound of the call reaching him distantly from the headphones plugged in.

Corpse bites down on his toast, chewing as he snagged them up and shoved them down over his ears, answering after only a brief moment of hesitation after a glance at the clock which let him know it was 2 pm, three hours before they were meant to stream.

“Corpse.”

“Toast,” he answers as he reaches for his bottles of pills, dragging them closer before reaching to unscrew lid of the first one. “Whaddup?” 

“Did you just wake up?”

“Am I that predictable?” Corpse wonders, sorting out his pills and shoving the bottles back as he was done with them.

“I like to think I know you well enough to tell what that low frequency voice of yours means.” A pause. “Or I’m just a genius. Take your pick.”

Corpse’s mouth twitches. “What do you want, Toast?”

“Just checking in, to be honest.” It’s hard to read the tone of his voice- Corpse it used to the way Toast expertly manipulates his way through imposter rounds, or the way his voice tips with just an edge of humour when he’s successfully tricked them all by being an absolute troll. “You didn’t make the last stream.”

This… is not it.

“Um. Yeah. Sorry about that. I… had a bad day.”

“It’s fine,” Toast responds quickly. “I wasn’t calling to accuse you or anything. Just… to make sure you were feeling up for it today?” It comes out as a question and Corpse can hear him fiddling with something through the headphones, the clicking sounding rather like a pen. “You don’t have to push yourself. I know you have some issues and talking makes it worse so if you need to rest your voice – we’d all understand, you know?”

Corpse stares down at the rows of pills in-front of him, one trembling hand curling in the hood over his heart, his chest heavy.

I’m not weak-

The words rests on the tip of his tongue before he swallows heavily, leaning back in his chair and staring at the dark blinds he hadn’t pulled-up since moving into the apartment.

Corpse doesn’t have a problem admitting to having problems. He’s been rather frank about it – knows that his humour is often dark, often self-depreciating, sprinkled with far too much truth on low days when he wants nothing more than to make it all stop.

But he’s not…

Strangers on the internet is one thing. They don’t know him. Not really. They pick and choose what they like – making videos about his voice, about some joke he’s made, the way he interacts with his friends. Profile pictures of all sorts, some with real faces, his name being tagged absolutely everywhere as of late.

But friends…

Corpse flicks his eye down to the picture of a toast with a hat and glasses and a fucking moustache.

He likes playing with Toast but he hadn’t…

It’s different from Jack who is open with his affections, though Corpse struggles with understanding how much is just being put-on for the viewers, how much of it is real, because some of it has to be real or he’s not-

Corpse doesn’t know what he’d do if it isn’t.

Valkyrae too. They… talk more than he’d expected. Exchanging messages, clothing tips, bantering back and forth, and… Rae, she’s quick to offer reassurance whenever he was expressing anxiousness about something. Taking it seriously, her words easing something inside of him, her smile warm where he stares at her on the screen.

Sykkuno… he’d just clicked with. It’s easy to tease him, enjoying the way the older man covers his mouth to hide his smile, eyes crinkling, flushing, awkward and unsure in his interactions. It makes him want to be there for him- recognising the feelings all too well and Sykkuno didn’t have the reassurance of a dark screen to hide behind, his face there for the world to see and judge.

Corpse doesn’t understand how they do it. It takes far more bravery than he can muster up, hiding away his apartment as he is, paranoid that anyone would find out about him and reveal him to the world, the anxiety of it only increasing with the fucking surreal way his name had spread so suddenly.

Trending number one on twitter with his fucking hand. A strand of his goddamn hair.

Friends. New. Frail. Is it real? He doesn’t know. He wants it to be. He wants…

He doesn’t want it to end once he stops being the new fun thing. It’s just a matter of time before he stops being relevant and he both fears and craves it. To be forgotten, left to rot away in his apartment.

It’s not supposed to be personal.

But it… is. Somehow. Perhaps it makes him pathetic. Maybe he’s just lying to himself, trying to convince himself that these people care for him.

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know why it matters. They’ll come and go like everyone else in his life and that’s-

“Corpse?”

“I’m fine,” Corpse forces out, throat thick and aching and he clears it. “I’m down to play,” he tacks on a bit lamely. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I…” He curls his hands tight in his lap. “I appreciate it though. Thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course!” He can’t see Toast’s face but the clicking of the pen stops. “Just doing what any decent person would do.”

Not a whole lot of those out there.

Corpse scoops his pills up and tips his head back to swallow them, fumbling with the water bottle on his desk before washing them down with a wince as they scraped uncomfortably against his throat and clears it to get rid of the feeling.

“I’ll catch you later then.”

“Yeah,” Corpse agrees, flexing his trembling fingers.

-

Fucking hell, Corpse thinks with feeling, hours into the stream, scrubbing at his eye in frustration as his vision blurs, colours melting together, straining and aching.

He’s not imposter. Perhaps it’s for the better – it offers an excuse for the way his attention keeps dipping, trying to keep some sort of monologue going with his watchers, not sure if he’s managing it all that well.

Red to red, yellow to yellow, cyan to cyan-

Someone, anyone, please kill me, Corpse begs internally, catching Rae’s red spacebean approaching with a swell of hope.

But she passes him by, pausing as the light suddenly died and he just barely avoids a sigh of relief as he latches onto the distraction, following her closely in the small bubble of light offered for crewmate vision with a squint.

They make their way through the ship, pausing in admin to check if anyone had died-

Or at least Rae does. Corpse… doesn’t really remember if Jack had died the previous round or this, pausing as he realised that-

“Sykkuno is dead.” The words slip out of him just as a meeting is called.

There’s a laugh from someone, more than one, it blurs together uncomfortable in the aching of his head.

“He died last round.”

Fuck. Corpse rubs at his eye again, only further irritating it, the wetness welling up in response to the bright light of the screen.

He presses sleeve against his eye, allowing himself a small respite from it, breathing shallowly through it as he tries to focus on the voices.

Rae, suspicious of him because he’d been following her, but she wasn’t dead so-

Toast had been acting odd on the northern part of the map-

Poki challenging Pewds on his whereabouts-

He bites down on his sleeve to muffle the sound of his breathing as it grows hoarser, his eye irritated to death from his scrubbing, his nose getting stuffy in response and-

He waits for the round to finish, hardly registering getting voted out past the initial flare of relief.

I’m sorry, Corpse thinks with a thick sort of loathing as he paws blindly across his table before killing the internet.

-

“Corpse! You’re back!”

“Yeah. Internet died.” The excuse isn’t terrible – he’d been having a fair amount of trouble with it lately so he doesn’t feel too horrible about it.

He’d taken the ten minutes of respite to wash his face, fetch some eyedrops and tweet out an apology for not starting up a new stream. His hands are trembling but- Among Us isn’t physically demanding, his body is just lousy, and he’d taken some pain meds with some weak hope that they’d help.

“I’m glad you’re back, Corpse,” Sykkuno’s voice comes from amidst the chatter.

“Yeah, man!” Jack enthuses. “I was thoroughly enjoying the duality of yours and Sykkuno’s voices together here. We can’t just have you disappearing on us like that.”

“The devil and angel we all need in our lives,” Pewds’ voice comes a bit distractedly.

“Sykkuno does have an amazing voice,” Corpse agrees.

“Guys-“ Sykkuno fumbles out in protest and Corpse’s mouth twitches despite how tired he feels.

“You finished your streaming, Corpse?” Rae inquiries curiously, torn from chewing out Toast who lets out a barely noticeable breath of relief. “Chat is talking about it.”

“Mm. Internet is what it is – didn’t feel like trying again.”

His phone buzzes and he paws for it, scrolling down the private chat to find a message from Jack-

You guys wanna play a few rounds off-stream?

Oooh, for sure! Rae’s answer comes almost immediately.

That sounds fun :) Sykkuno.

Maybe order some food? I’m getting hungry. Marzia too, I’ve been threatened to let you know. 

Order in?

I vote pizza!

You always want pizza-

Corpse stops reading, a strange feeling squeezing through him, his hand tightening around the phone, forcing himself to type out an affirmation before shutting the screen off and slumping down, staring at the lobby and the small black avatar with the wolf-

Cat ears, he corrects himself, thinking back on one of the first games they’d had together.

It had been… cute. Adorable, really.

Corpse doesn’t know when his… appreciation for cat ears had blossomed up. It had just… been there one day. He’d loved the way Sykkuno looked with his during the Halloween stream, the picture the other man had sent him in private afterwards saved on his phone and computer.

He hadn’t expected Sykkuno to actually do it when he sent the message. Hand raised in a shy v, clearly embarrassed judging by the pink flush on his cheeks. But he’d still done it, because he knew Corpse would like it.

It made him feel warm whenever he opened it up to look at it.

I should put it as my phone background, Corpse muses, fingers twitching in small tap-tap-tap noises against the screen. He needs to cut his nails. Re-paint them, too. The black is nearly completely gone, only just barely clinging onto four of his nails.

“You there, Corpsey?”

“Ah.” He jerks a bit guiltily and presses down on the push-to-talk button. “I’m here.”

“We’re relocating to the communal floor so we’re going offline for a few minutes.” A pause. “You getting something to eat too?”

Corpse opens his mouth to lie, but then closes it.

“Not really hungry,” he says roughly.

“We’ve been playing for four hours!” Rae says, aghast. “How are you not starving!?”

Corpse… genuinely isn’t hungry. Or perhaps it’s just the nausea preventing him from feeling it.

It’s hard to tell sometimes when his body is always itching to get rid of food rather than keep it. His food habits are lousy and he knows it but even his strongest anti-nausea meds did little to help when he’s already feeling crappy because of his fibro.

And he is feeling crappy. His eye swollen and itching, vision blurry despite the eyedrops, better, certainly, but still far from good.

“I’ll grab some coffee,” he mutters, sinking into his hoodie. It’s warm, black, one of his favourite ones from the sheer softness of it which makes it feel less like his skin is being scraped raw where it shifts against it.

“Coffee isn’t food Corpse- Sykkuno, tell him!”

“Me-?! I- I mean, coffee is technically made of beans which is… kind of a food?”

“You tell her, Sykkuno,” Poki’s amused voice filters in.

“Stop simping and help me out here,” Rae sighs.

Sykkuno makes a wordless and embarrassed kind-of noise in protest.

“I had toast earlier.” Corpse rubs at his face. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah guys, he had toast earlier, he’s fine,” Toast drawls.  

“Don’t say it like that!” Rae squawks as laughter filters through the lobby.

“You insinuating something there?”

“Do you want me to be insinuating something?”

“Don’t answer him, Corpse!” Jack says before he can figure out a clever response. “Don’t let your innocent ears be defiled.”

“Yeah, don’t answer him Corpse!” Lily echoes. “He’s just jealous Sykkuno is simping for you instead of him.”

“Hey now-“ Toast protests.

“Ooooh, that makes so much sense, Lily!” Rae’s voice is thick teasing. “Are you missing Sykkuno’s simping Toast? Are you feeling abandoned?”

“He literally waddled up to my room before the stream to get a hug,” Toast says with self-satisfaction and there’s noise in response, aww’s and Sykkuno’s frantic don’t tell them that!  

Ouch, Corpse thinks, scratching at his wrist and then stopping as he caught himself and switching to rubbing at it as the conversation trailed off and they finally disappeared to a reassuring chorus of meet back in fifteen.

He spares a moment to toggle his push-to-talk to turn it on and off with a press of s-alt.

Once done Corpse drags his beanie down over his eye and eyepatch, his hood up over his beanie, and slumps down on his desk.

-

“Isn’t it rude to eat like this? When you’re not?” Sykkuno asks, not for the first time, and the worry is endearing but-

“I don’t care,” Corpse mumbles, having given up on trying to sound like he wasn’t half-squished against his arms half-way into the food having been delivered. Most of them were doing their best to mute off when chewing but they’re clearly all in the same area and his headphones picks up the background chatter, jokes and ribbing and squabbling over food. “Eat your food, Sykkuno.”

Poki’s laughter rings clear and sudden and his shoulders tenses before relaxing as his fingers rolled down the volume, swinging it up with a swipe of his thumb as words registered-

“- fun to get to know each other better.”

“Ooh, I like this idea. I’m especially curious about Corpse,” Rae’s voice muses through his headphones. “And Jack I guess?”

“You guess?” Jack demands in mock-offence “And what about Felix?”

“Fair enough,” Rae agrees with a laugh. “But come on – we practically grew up watching you two play! Corpse is- I don’t really know a lot about you, Corpse.”

He hums in acknowledgement at suddenly being addressed.

“I’m not that interesting.”

“That only makes you sound more interesting, Corpsey,” Jack comments in amusement. “All dark and mysterious with your ruggedly delicious voice.”

“That’s why we should do a Q&A!” There’s a rattle, the sound of food being placed aside and fingers wiped clean. “How about… we go the team around, everyone gets to ask a question, everyone answers. That way everyone can learn a bit about everyone.”

There’s a round of delighted responses making their way through his head, impossible to sort out, but he voices his agreement.

"That sounds fun," he hears Sykkuno say almost absently once most have quieted down. 

"Of course you'd-" he doesn't hear the rest of Rae's teasing as Poki clears her throat for attention.

“How about we start out easy,” Poki suggests. “When is your birthday, Corpse?”

“I feel targeted,” he says with some amusement, his voice rumbling low and straining but he resists clearing it, knowing that it wasn’t really good for his vocal cords in the long-run. “August 8^th.”

“We missed your birthday!?” Jack splutters. “We knew each other in August and you never said anything!”

“Don’t really celebrate it,” Corpse answers absently, trying to remember if he’d even done anything for his birthday. There might have been wine involved. “You didn’t miss anything.”

There’s a moment of silence before-

“Well, that’s just depressing,” Toast mutters. “You turned twenty-three, right?”

“Yeah,” Corpse agrees, resisting the urge to rub his eye against his sleeve. “You?” he asks, desperate suddenly to get the attention off him.

“November 25^th,” Toast answers smoothly. “I’m turning twenty-nine.”

“And we’re having a grand celebration,” Poki says firmly. “But you know nothing about that.”

“Nothing,” Toast agrees breezily.

“Well, I’m thirty,” Jack says and Corpse flexes his fingers a bit absently in his lap. “But I’m not the oldest.”

“Heeey, I can’t help that you’re all… younglings,” Felix protests. “Babies, the lot of you.”

“I’m one year younger than you, Felix,” Jack says dryly.

“Hah. Lame.”

Corpse shifts his shoulders, trying to understand the signals his body is giving him but it’s hard to feel anything past the uncomfortable itchiness of his skin and his eye still sending prickling pain up his skull.

He tries to make a mental note of the birthdays but his brain is just not interested in being helpful and he resolves to text Rae about it later.

“It’s funny, isn’t it,” Lily says at the end of it. “Corpse is the baby of the group but Sykkuno is like The Baby and they’re simping for each other. It’s sickeningly sweet, really.”  

“The Baby-?” Sykkuno echoes with confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Sykkuno,” Rae reassures him and from the suspicious rustle of moment and protest Corpse puzzles together that she’d ruffled Sykkuno’s hair.

The questions continues amidst the chewing, most of them innocent enough, nothing prying, except for Felix who’d gotten himself a scolding for trying to ask about his sex life and yet-

He focuses on his breathing. In and then out.

"Okay, how about this one!" Felix exclaims with sudden triumph. "Are your feet the same size?"

"Uh."

"... Are you asking for feet pics, Felix?" Poki asks, voice lilting into teasing.

"I am just waiting for the day #onlyfeet trends on twitter and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

"Can you imagine though? He could sooo make it happen."

"Guys- I don't think we should-"

Corpse’s leg is bouncing under the desk, hands twisting together in his lap, cold sweat working its way through him when they finally get to Sykkuno and-

“Oh. Um. I’ve always wanted to know. Corpse do you-“

The feeling hits him suddenly and Corpse lurches to his feet, stumbling back, headphone cord jerked out to a sudden influx of too much noise and he trips over the foot of the chair, elbow clipping the side of the desk hard and-

Pain flares through him as he hits the ground with a thud - a horrible overwhelming mess of too much from the sudden motion, from his elbow, from his fucking back, from his eye suddenly wide-open, to light and the noise-

Corpse tries to hold it back but his stomach cramps, all blood disappearing from his face, barely able to roll over before he vomited.

The acid burns, and he coughs, his throat flaring in protest, one palm wrapping around it as he wheezed out a noise of wordless pain, the second wave hitting him along with a sense of sudden vertigo as what little remained of his toast and coffee hit the wood of his floor in a brown chunky mess and-

He struggles to get up on his knees, everything hurting, hunching over, arms folding around his stomach as he gasps, his throat raw, panting open mouthed and struggled to get air into his lungs, everything hurting, the scent stinging his nose and-

His friends are there.

He can hear them, distantly, humiliation crawling through him because they can hear him, but he can’t make himself move, knowing that the smallest thing could set if off again, knowing that all he could do was fucking wait and-

“-Corpse? Please give me a sign of life, man. Anything-“

Jack’s voice slowly starts making sense past the haze of pain, the worry in his voice clear and suddenly overbearing and he feels pathetic, where he kneels hunched over, just inches away from the pool of vomit, trembling and locked in place at the mercy of his own fucked-up body.

“- does he have any friends? No, I don’t know anyone who knows Corpse in real-life. I haven’t even seen his face – that’s just a joke. He’s a private man-“

His fists are trembling, curled white-knuckled into the fabric of his hoodie in a cramp-like vice and his nose is dripping and his eye is fucking leaking and-

He forces one hand to slowly unlatch, wiping at his noise and mouth with his sleeve as he slowly forced himself to slump back with a bump of his head against his chair.

“Corpse?” It’s Rae now, her voice soft, gentle after shushing Jack. “I think I heard him move-“

“I’m-“ His voice breaks into a wheezing cough, a low ugly noise following as he desperately sucked in air, struggling to get his lungs to cooperate properly with him because they fucking suck.

“- don’t need to talk, okay-“ There’s a sense of urgency to Rae’s voice even it remains low, as if trying to make sure she didn’t spook him.

Not like I’m getting anywhere anyway, Corpse thinks bitterly, wondering if it was too much to ask for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Just breathe, Corpse.” There’s a tone to Toast’s voice that’s similar to the way he’d spoken to him that morning, only more pronounced, and he realises that- it’s worry. “It’s just- well, us four. Jack and Rae was adamant in staying. Felix herded the rest of them along. I think… you’d prefer as few people here as possible.”

On some level Corpse appreciates it.

The other part of him just wants to tip over and go to sleep. Forever, preferably.

“Is there anyone we can call?” Jack asks what feels like an eternity later.

“No,” Corpse manages to get out in a painful rasp.

“I… really don’t want you to be alone like this, man. Can you move at all?”

“Not… yet,” he grits out. “It will…” He sucks in a breath. “Pass.”

“Not to be that person,” Toast says through his speakers, “but you sounded like you were dying there for a bit.”

If he’d had energy for it, he would have laughed.

“I… wish.”

“Corpse,” Rae sounds physically pained and he grimaces – knowing that it wasn’t a pretty thing to experience his body acting up, knowing that he’d likely frightened them, and that his sorta-humour wasn’t helpful.

He’d pushed himself. He should have listened to Toast and his body when he’d already had a severe flare-up just days earlier. But he hadn’t. He’d wanted to play. To enjoy what little time there was to have with his friends before his fame faded and he with it.

“This sucks,” Jack says, quiet enough that Corpse suspects he wasn’t meant to hear it, but he’d kept the volume on high, adjusting the headphones with the little roll on the cord, and they’re consequently uncomfortably loud to the blaring headache clawing through his skull. “Hey Corpsey – what helps? Right now. What would help you?”

“Sleep,” he admits hoarsely.

“Then sleep,” Toast says simply and Corpse allows his eyes to flag shut, slumping back, out like a light between one breath and the other.

Chapter Text

Corpse wakes up with regret.

His body is uncomfortably stiff, his jaw locked uncomfortably tight, his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and it takes effort to force his fingers to relax from the stiff claws in his lap before he cracks his eye open.

It’s blissfully dark, the monitor having gone to sleep, and he stares at the blank wall in front of him, his brain working sluggishly to puzzle the pieces of last night together and-

“Jack?” The name leaves his mouth in a horrible raspy broken thing that makes him wince.

There’s a noise, something crashing to the ground and then-

“Corpse!” Rae’s voice is painfully relieved across the speaker. “Jack and Toast both had to leave but- I’m still here. How-“ She draws a breath. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he admits groggily. “What time is it?”

“Two pm,” Rae informs him promptly. “You slept for hours. We took turns staying to make sure you wouldn’t wake-up alone.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Sorry.”

“Nu-huh, nope, we’re not- you’re not allowed to feel sorry for this, Corpse! I won’t allow it!” Rae’s voice rises before she catches herself lowering it. “I mean it, Corpse. If you feel bad about it – stop it. This was clearly beyond your control so- so fuck feeling bad about it!”

The vehemence in her voice catches him off-guard, where he sits, just a step away from a dried pool of vomit.

“… Thank you, Rae. For staying with me.”

“Of course! I’m your friend. We all are. You… we’ve all been worried. I’m so glad to hear your voice again.” There’s a pause. “You sound horrible though.”

“Thanks,” he rasps a bit wryly.

“Can you move? Are there any meds you can take to help you? I know you’ve mentioned on one of your streams that you take medication – I’ve been doing research – but I couldn’t really make sense of it because I was googling you know? And this isn’t gerd – or just, not only gerd? I mean- I don’t want to pry but-“

“I have fibromyalgia,” he tells her a bit tiredly. “And probably a heap of other fucked-up stuff but they don’t really know.” It hurts to talk but he’s always tried being up-front about his issues when asked about them. “Nerve issue too. And, uh, something called thoracic outlet syndrome. If you’ve heard of it.”

“Fibro and thoracic-“ Rae mutters something too low for him to catch and he can hear her typing. “I’m writing that down,” she says as Corpse cautiously shifts his arm, and then the other, relived to find them moving, at least. “So, medication?” she prompts.

“Yes, I have medication for it,” he admits. “… I should invest in one of those toy claw things,” Corpse mutters as he side-eyes his desk, which suddenly feels far, far away.

“You can do it,” Rae’s voice comes close to the mic, encouraging and reassuring. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be right here with you.”

The words… he feels his chest swell, something unexpectedly terrible warm flooding through him as he draws a breath and shakily lets it out.

I don’t deserve you, he thinks as he painfully shifts his legs, biting back a noise of pain from the stiffness as he forces himself around and onto his knees.

It’s a slow process, and he stops frequently to just breathe, stomach churning as he claws his chair around with a rough jerk, nearly collapsing upon the seat with his head with a painful rasp.

There’s sweat beading on his back and brow, limbs trembling and shaking and he-

He hates this.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it-

“Take your time,” Rae murmurs across the speakers. “I know it hurts, Corpse. I can hear-“ A shaky breath. “I can hear how much it hurts. It sucks. Pain – sucks. But you’re stronger than the pain. I know you are. You’re almost there. Give yourself time.”

He feels his eye prickling as he presses his forehead against the leather of the seat which is cold against his forehead.

“I’m fucking pathetic.” His voice breaks and he feels small where he lies, fingers clawing into the chair.

“You’re not,” Rae denies vehemently. “You’re so, so strong, Corpse.”

“I can’t even reach my fucking desk.” His nails digs deep into the leather. “What the hell is strong about that?”

“I can’t imagine the pain you’re in right now.” Rae’s voice is quiet. “But you’re fighting and that makes you strong, Corpse. That takes- it takes an incredible amount of strength to do what you’re doing now.”

He draws a shaky breath.

“You’re not alone. You’ve got this.”

He presses down with his right palm against the chair and heaves up, his left slamming down against the side of the desk, clawing down, and a wretched sort of noise leaves him as he heaves up with everything he has, ignoring the pain that burns through his stiff limbs, ignoring the way his knees threatens to fold as he gets himself up-

He clings to Rae’s encouragement and collapses down in his chair, curling his arms tight against his chest as he trembles, hunching over and gasping through the pain, the burn horrible but slowly fading with every breath until he can handle it without feeling like he’s dying.

“-did it Corpse! You did it!”

He wipes his eye against his hoodie, glad that, at least there’s no-one around to see him like this.

“Can you reach your meds now?” Rae asks anxiously.

“Yeah,” he manages, forcing the chair forward with a press of his foot and reaching to jerkily draw them closer.

His eye lingers on the bottle placed at the far back but he ignores it, teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek as he grasps for the one he knew contained pain relief.

It takes him several tries to get it open with how badly his hands are shaking but he’s used to it and forces the frustration back until he finally manages to pry it open and lets the pills spill out on his desk. Two are his max dose, he knows, and he grabs for them, palm flattening against his mouth as he tipped his head back and dry swallowed them.

He slumps back, reaching blindly for the next bottle.

“How long does it take for them to kick-in?” Rae asks after several minutes of listening to the rattle of pills as he slowly worked his way through the bottles and he wonders-

He wonders what she must be thinking of him.

“Twenty to thirty minutes for the pain relief,” he admits hoarsely.

“Another fifteen then,” she breathes with relief and he blinks a bit wetly because it feels like a life-time even if he, rationally, knows it isn’t. “I’m so proud of you, Corpse.”

He drops his head back against the seat, eye flagging shut.

“You don’t have to stay, Rae,” he grits out. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

“I’m staying,” she tells says simply and the tone of her voice warns him from arguing with her. “Is it okay if I text the others to let them know you’re okay?”

“’s fine.”

There’s a long moment of silence where he can just hear the sound of her breathing and the tap-tap-tap of her phone as she does just that.

His brain feels foggy and thick from the pain and his memories of the evening before are hazy, his elbow pounding, back aching suspiciously in a way that could only mean he’d bruised it.

He remembers ending the stream, has a vague idea of questions asked and answered, but it feels distant, like trying to puzzle together the aftermath of a dream. Most of it will come back to him later, he knows, but it's frustrating all the same.

“Corpse?”

He hums to let her know he was listening.

“I tried to look around for any streams and stuff where you’d mentioned anything that could give me any understanding of what’s going on. And- I caught the one where you were thanking your streamers because you could finally pay off your medical bills and arrange for future visits.” There’s a pause where he cracks his eye open to glance at the dark screen. “I know you don’t… leave your apartment that often. Have you- I mean, have you done a recent hospital visit? Because… I’m gonna be honest with you, this… It doesn’t sound like you have a handle of it? And I don’t mean that as a criticism to you!” Rae hurries out. “But the thought of you having to deal with all of this alone…” She swallows. “I don’t like it, Corpse.”

“I have the money,” he admits haltingly.

There’s a moment where Rae is clearly hoping for more but-

Corpse has only left his apartment to buy food, terrified out of his fucking mind of anyone recognising him, of putting two-and-two together, paranoia locking him in place as he stared at the locks on his door, unable to find it himself to actually pry them open.

He’d had to cancel two visits he knew he needed.

“Are you…” Rae hesitates. “I know you joke about your anxiety and stuff sometimes, Corpse. But… It’s actually pretty bad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees tiredly. “It’s pretty fucking bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Rae sighs and he can hear her flop back in what he presumes to be a couch, pillow crinkling through the speakers as she hugged it tight. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Corpse says thickly. “Far more than I deserve.”

“Don’t do that,” Rae says quietly. “Friendship isn’t about deserving anything. I’m here because I care about you.”

He stares at the black screen, frozen in place, his breathing shallow and heartbeat loud in his ears.

“Corpse.” He jerks at the steely resolve in her voice. “If there’s anything I can do to help, and I do mean anything, I want you to call me. In fact- I’m gonna send you my number over discord right now, that way you can always reach me-“

“Rae-“

“Call, text, I don’t care what- and it’s stay just between the two of us! No questions asked-“

“Rachel.”

There’s a pause.

“Corpse,” she says warily.

“Thank you. You’re a good friend and I’m lucky to have you.” He considers and then- “I love you.” Because he does, in that hesitant sort of desperate way he wants to cling to even knowing that it won't last. That, once his body fails him, he won’t have this.

Friendship. Frail and uncertain, addicting and heady, often overwhelming but so, so, warm.

It’s new, like a flickering flame he’s desperately holding onto and trying to keep alive in the cradle of his trembling, useless, hands.

I want to play games with all of you forever, he thinks as he stares at the black screen. But he knows that his body won’t allow it, that it’s only a matter of time, that he’s already pushing himself too much and that his body isn’t keeping up with him, is failing when he wants it desperately to work.

A victim to his own genetics that had doctors shaking their heads because he doesn’t look sick. He’s… thinner than he perhaps should be but the muscles are all there, because he’s twenty-three and he tries, but there’s always something working against him.  

“… You can’t just spring something like that on a girl-“ Rae’s voice rises up in a pitch and his mouth twitches as he slowly sinks down against his desk, allowing himself to settle stiffly against it with a grimace as his muscles refused to relax. “I love you too,” she grumbles out. “And I'm serious, Corpse!”

“I know,” he agrees as he rubs one hand against his throat.

“Oh.” A pause. “That’s good then.”

He hums, closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing.

“Are you- I mean, you’re at your desk now, right? Because your voice is close and-” Her mouth snaps close. “You’re not trying to go to sleep at your desk, are you, Corpse?” she asks suspiciously.

“Now why would I do that?”

“… Do you want the honest answer to that? Because I can be blunt, if you want me to be, and I have a whole list of reasons as to why that’s not a good idea-“

“I hear you,” he interrupts with a huff of air. “I should get something to eat anyway.”

“Medication on an empty stomach is generally a bad idea,” Rae says distractedly, her voice momentarily muffled, and he can distantly hear her rummaging around. “What about a bath? Hot water has to be good when you’re feeling stiff, right?”

“Don’t own a bath and a shower is too much effort.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d take one sitting down on the floor in his clothes. But he always ended up regretting those times because getting out of wet clothes when he was already feeling shitty was a fucking pain.

“Well, food it is then,” Rae says strongly. “Did you get my number?”

Corpse cracks his eye open but paws for his phone and opens up discord, noticing that Rae had written in the group chat but not bothering to give it more than cursory glance as he opened up the private chat from her.

“I did,” he confirms.

“Great! Alright, so I’m gonna close this call down and then you can call me there instead. Sounds good? AwesomespeaktoyousoonCorpse-“

The call clicks off.

Corpse, chin on his arm, staring at his screen, blinks.

And then a low laugh rumbles in his chest and he pushes up, breathing in and then out as he carefully straightened out, one palm pressing hard against his desk, giving himself a shake and dragging a hand through his messy curls to get them out of his eye.

He’s still stiff, the pain coiling just beneath his skin, a constant sort of thing that never goes away, fingers trembling and missing twice as he copies the number down and saves it on his phone as-

Rae.

Not Valkyrae.

Just… Rae.

He can picture her hoovering over her phone, waiting for him to call. He’d seen some videos from their new house, had been unable to resist the curiosity that had pulled at him, and he remembers that the couch had been a big thing lowered into the middle of the communal floor, meant to fit all of them together and-

Corpse breathes out and then pads on bare feet across the cold floor to brush his teeth and rid of the lingering acidic taste.

-

“I’m a slut for cinnamon raisin bread,” Corpse says with feeling as he bites down on his plain toast.

Rae snorts only to choke on the water she’d been drinking and his mouth curls with amusement as she laughs while wiping at her chin.

“Remind me to make sure you get some once December comes around. Don’t ask how- but I’ll do it, if I so have to hit up your PO Box.”

“You’ll have to tell me or I’ll end up with week old cinnamon raisin bread and that would make me sad.”

“And we wouldn’t want that,” she agrees solemnly. “Fresh cinnamon raisin bread for Corpse. Hashtag and tweet it out and you’ll have cinnamon raisin bread for the rest of your life.”

No I won’t, the cynical part of his brain whispers.

“I’m not sure I’d survive that,” he says as he takes another bite, chewing carefully and taking a sip of water to make sure it was all mushed up before he swallowed it down.

The conversation takes a turn to general chatter and he relaxes, allowing himself to listen to Rae’s soothing cadence. There had been talk about trying out a new game called Rust and Corpse is still hesitant, isn’t sure his hands would be up for it. But maybe, he thinks, as he listens to her describe it- about just hanging out and talking and running around.

It sounds chaotic and fun and he wants to be a part of it. And-

He doesn’t want to be left behind. Among Us had been their thing, one of the few games where he felt like he wasn’t crap at it, especially Imposter rounds which he was actually fucking good at when he finally got them.

He wonders if he sounds a bit desperate on streams when he gets crewmate over and over again. Afraid that people will tire of him, about just being-

“Are you feeling better, Corpse?”

He jerks a bit guiltily, realising he’d been zoning out. “Yeah,” he tells her and- he means it. There’s some nausea but it’s doable and nothing new, he’ll get through it. And the pain meds might only do so much but-

Corpse can deal with pain on this level. A solid four and not the screaming seven or even eight.

Had done worse and survived it.

It’s easier, he thinks, to remember that it’s not all bad when Rae is there with him. That, it’s actually good and that he’s allowed this warmth and friendship that she offers so easily. Supporting him and guiding him when he was having a trouble or issue, offering reassurance when he was expressing anxiety about something.

Not just taking her time when she was already on stream but also outside it, before or after they had something new, helping him through installations and trying out mic settings when he’d been having issue.

Staying with him for hours when he just… slept because she’d been worried about him.

Her number now saved on his phone.

If there’s anything I can do to help, and I do mean anything-

Her words loop through his head, an idea shaping itself, frail with a hope that feels new and strange, trust that is unfamiliar but there all the same.

He swallows the last of his water and breathes out as he puts his glass down, glancing at the door with its many locks, an awful sort of reassurance that kept him inside and the world locked away where it had belonged for years.

Agoraphobia, an irrational and horrible fear of leaving his own goddamn home.

“Hey, Rae?”

“Corpse?”

For a long moment he hesitates, staring at the brown wood, at the brass handle, and the dull silver of the locks in the darkness of the hallway, a single lamp bulb dangling a bit sadly above his head in the kitchen.

But she’d been right in that he didn't have a handle on things, and he knows that he needs to do more if he wants to keep playing with them like this, that a hospital visit was long overdue and…

And maybe-

He closes his eye and drags a hand through the messy dark curls of his hair, clenching down tight.

I want to keep playing with you guys forever.

“Can I… Can I ask you for a favour?”