Corpse Husband Oneshots

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TRIGGER WARNINGS: Depression, anxiety, self-harm, self-hatred, mention of suicide.
AN: I hope y'all like this, vote and comment plz!
~corpse pov~
I am unbelievably frustrated with everything. From the second I woke up this morning and found my vision blurry, probably caused by my fibromyalgia, I've been pissed. It immediately made me feel worthless and depressed so I know I'm not getting out of bed today, much less working on stuff for my channel.

My phone chirps and I know it's Sykkuno. He's pretty much the only person that texts me and he usually asks if I'm okay if I stay in bed too long. I don't bother to check the message though because I know trying to use my blurry vision will just make me more upset.

I squeeze my eyes closed and clench my jaw as frustration courses through my veins. My eyes fill with tears and I don't stop them from leaking out. My whole body shakes from sobs and I have no hope of stopping them.

It seems like every time I start getting my shit together and plan a day for recording or reading stories or editing, something sets me back. I wake up depressed, I have to go somewhere and I end up having panic attacks all day, I'm too sore to leave the bed, or I can't fucking see. It's fucking bullshit! Not only does my brain betray me and try to destroy my productivity but my body does too! If I'm not careful about putting out new content then I'll miss my little bit of the spotlight without having really done shit with it. Everyone will forget about me, I'll go back to being poor and sick, and Sykkuno will leave me. I might as well off myself if that happens.

I didn't even realize that I was dragging my fingernails up my thigh until I get out of my head for a moment and feel the burning pain. I lift my hand out from under the covers and see blood smeared on the ends of my fingertips. Maybe I can't see great, but I can see that much. Fucking great. Just what I needed.

There's a knock at my door which I've actually been expecting. With all of my health problems, mental and physical, Thomas doesn't leave me alone for too long if I don't reply to his texts.

"Corpse? You okay?" He asks through the door.

I clear my throat and wipe the tears off my face with the backs of my hands. There's no hope of hiding my breakdown, I'm still hiccuping and my pale skin gets really red when I cry.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," I choke out, trying to sound normal.

"Are you sure? Can I come in?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

He cracks open the door and his expression softens as soon as he sees me. I must look so goddamn pitiful laying in my bed, crying over my failing health and career.

"What's wrong?" He inquires, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"M-my vision is blurry this morning."

"Oh, that's from fibromyalgia, right?"

I nod, forcing myself to sit up. I'm sure my curly hair is absolutely gross and wild, but I can't bring myself to care very much.

"I was gonna record a couple of stories today but I can't see well enough to use the recording program or to read the stories," I explain.

"Well, that sucks, but maybe it's just a sign that you were supposed to rest today?"

I let out a harsh laugh and look down at my lap, playing with my fingers.

"If I rest every fucking day then I won't have a job anymore," I snap.

He just nods and stands up.

"I'm sorry," I sigh.

"It's o- is that blood?" He says, cutting himself off abruptly.

I glance at my hand and see the crimson liquid still drying on my fingers.

"I kinda scratched myself," I admit with a cringe.

"I'll get the first aid kit," he says quietly, disappearing into the hallway.

I push down the covers and expose the wounds on my thigh. I was just sleeping in boxers and Sykkuno has seen me like this a million times, so I don't feel embarrassed or exposed or anything.

He comes back in a couple of minutes later and silently sits on my bed, pursing his lips when he sees the scrapes trailing over my skin.

"Please say something," I whisper.

He sighs, taking an alcohol wipe out of the little package and wiping it over the scratches. I flinch and suck in a sharp breath at the pain.

"Sorry," He apologizes. "I just- I know that you're going through a lot, I know that there's a lot of pressure on you and that you have these health problems, but I don't understand why you don't let me help you."

"I do," I say quickly. "You're helping me right now."

"After you mauled your own leg. If you let me know sooner that you were upset maybe we could have avoided this," he says.

He takes some ointment and gently smears it over the wounds before getting out a giant bandage.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to make you feel worse, I just want you to promise to try harder. You don't have to text me or even explain what's going on, you could just yell for me and I'll be there for you."

He is making me feel worse and painfully guilty, but it's not his fault. He makes a good point.

"I promise, I'll try harder," I say earnestly as he finishes smoothing the bandage on me.

"Thank you, you're all set, wanna eat breakfast with me?"

I'm not hungry but I can't crush his spirit and I know I probably should eat.

"Sure, can I have french toast?"

"Yeah."

I get up and make myself presentable, brushing my teeth and throwing on clothes before joining Thomas in the kitchen.

"How are your eyes?" He chirps as I sit at the breakfast bar.

"They're not bad until I try to focus on something."

"Hopefully they'll be better soon."

I nod.

"In the meantime, you could always make other stuff. People love you no matter what you're talking about," he suggests as he pours himself a glass of juice.

"You mean I could just make an onlyfans account and start making porn?"

He chokes on his drink and I crack up.

"No! That's not what I meant!" He sputters.

"But I don't need good eyesight for that," I point out.

"You are not making porn. Here, take this food and stop talking," he says, pushing a plate toward me and blushing like crazy.

I chuckle and begin shoveling eggs into my mouth.

After a while, Sykkuno sits down too.

"Do you think I could just make a horror podcast or like, a series of videos?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" He mumbles around a bite of bread.

"Like, since I can't read stories or questions or anything, what if I talked about horror movies, books, theories, stories, and you know, all that stuff?"

"Well it would be a solid theme, are you sure you know enough about it for an entire series?"

I snort.

"Um yeah, I could talk about horror shit all day every day."

"It sounds like you've got a plan then."

"And um... would you help me with setting up the audio software?"

He grins at me.

"I would love to."

1230 words :)