ecstasy | corpse husband

chapter 33.

elliot bay, washington
day thirteen

Corpse hasn't spoken with Elowen for an entire day.

It shouldn't feel as weird to him as it does, but after seeing her every morning and every night for almost two weeks, it's almost as if that's how it's always been. He struggles to remember what it was like when he would wake up and she wasn't there. No one was. He preferred it that way once.

Now, Elowen hasn't spoken to him for an entire day, even goes as far as leaving the room when he's around, and he feels her absence acutely. He isn't a fan of the sleeping arrangements, either. Despite never being comfortable with much physical contact outside of meaningless sex, she's gotten him used to having her touching him in some way when she doses off, a habit of hers, and always having her in his line of sight. He could easily fix the issue except that she's mad at him.

At the very least, she was forced to sit beside him during dinner last night—after insisting she wasn't hungry, Anette forced her—but they still didn't talk to each other. She busied herself with having conversations with everyone but him, and if he's being completely honest with himself, watching her talk to someone else drove him a little crazy. He was jealous. He wasn't getting any of her attention, and he isn't sure he even deserves her attention but still, he wanted her to talk to him.

Which is a stupid wish because at the end of the day, she's doing him a favor.

He can't seem to get a handle on his urges around her, their last conversation in the middle of the night was a testament to that, and she's making the task far more manageable not being in the room in the first place. Out of sight, out of mind. Except, she still plagues his mind, even in the farthest fucking corner of the boat.

If she ever lets him speak to her again, he thinks he might kiss her again. She would be furious with him, which he thinks she deserves for what she pulled on him in that towel, and then ignore him some more. Maybe even cut him off entirely if she's angry enough. That's what he wants, isn't it?

No, he resolves. It's what needs to happen.

Elowen doesn't know what's good for her if she thinks Corpse is what she wants. Corpse won't forget the warning he was given in the nightmare he had in the van, and he witnessed it for himself. She loses herself in her infatuation. It overwhelms her, it becomes her. Her heart frenzies for affection, even to give without anything in return, although he knows she won't be satisfied with that for long. She needs it to feel whole. To feel worthy. To feel okay.

He can't give her what he wants, and he won't try. What's the point?

They are too different. Anything good between them will never last. He will end up hurting her, and even though he's doing that already, he thinks it would be far worse if he gave Elowen her way. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time Corpse suppressed his own inclinations. He used to do it all the time just to spite himself.

It's midday the following day when Corpse finally leaves the room. He had it all to himself since the quarrel between Flare and Monroe yesterday morning. Everyone had gone their separate ways until dinner, which was when they all decided to sleep the night on the ferry and put off docking until the day after. It was the better choice; traveling on foot at night would be too dangerous. Flare told them to be ready to leave by noon before leaving to the captain's cabin, where he must've slept the night.

The hallway is empty and dim as Corpse makes his way to the bathroom. Quiet. Everyone must be up on the deck. According to the vintage pocket watch he found in one of the drawers in his room, it was about to be noon.