#past toastkkuno

[nutteu]

mama, we all go to hell [Chapter II]

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[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III]

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When he came back to the apartment several days later, Sykkuno was sprinting to the lift, arms waving around and eyes hilariously round as he sped up. Corpse reigned in his chuckle, pressing the button and waiting until Sykkuno was safely inside the lift, if a little bit winded.

“T-thank you, Corpse,” he gasped out, bent down on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. “Whew, I can’t believe I’m so old already. I feel like I’m dying just from that.���

“Good to know, grandpa,” Corpse teased, pressing the number for their floor. He observed the other man as he checked his phone, smiling at something and typing out a quick reply. He was wearing a black suit— a suit , one that was obviously tailored to his measurements, and Corpse had to look away for a moment when the telltale of a flush crept to his cheeks. It was ridiculous; Sykkuno couldn’t even see his face, for fuck’s sake. Still, it was something akin to a wonder to see the man out of his sweatshirts and hoodies. Even in the few times he got to see Sykkuno off to work, he always wore something comfortable and casual. Not- not this cardiac arrest inducing outfit. Or maybe it was just Corpse and his stupid lizard brain.

He most likely just got back from his work, Corpse deduced, what with a heavy looking bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was slightly disheveled from running, but there was an unmistakable shine of pomade and—the shape of something distinct. Helmet? He didn’t know that Sykkuno rode a bike. He just assumed he went to work with public transport or a car. He also didn’t know whether the image of Sykkuno—in his perfectly tailored suit, riding his bike on the street—would be good for his health. It simultaneously extended his lifespan by twenty years and made his lungs constrict with a precariously concealed scream.

“You uh- you look different,” he said before he could stop it.

Sykkuno looked up from his phone, eyes strangely sharp and cautious. The look was gone in a heartbeat, replaced with an awkward smile. “Um, yeah. Mr. La—uh, my boss, he told me that he was in no mood to see my Hawaiian shirt and neon shoes today. So he bought me this.”

Corpse’s eyes widened at that. What the fuck? What kind of company was Sykkuno working in that just threw in a suit for their employee on a whim? Because, sweet Bingus, sign him the fuck up. The Cartel didn’t exactly have a dress code, but everyone wore a suit and Corpse understood that the image of regality was important to differentiate them from street gangs. The closer he got to the higher ranks, the more Lily bugged him to buy ‘a nice suit’. He did, because he needed to keep up appearances too when he tagged along on important meetings. But, holy fuck, were they expensive.

“For real?” he said, awed and slightly envious. It wasn’t about the suit; his encounter with Toast several days earlier was still fresh in his mind. He wondered if the jealousy he saw in the man’s eyes was the same drive that urged him to complicate Corpse’s life at times. “Man, your boss must really like you.”

The other man shrugged, stepping out of the lift when they arrived on their floor. “He’s certainly affectionate to us. He’s kinda weird like that. He gets so pissed when I don’t say ‘I love you’ back to him. It’s really funny.”

Hearing that, Corpse nearly choked on thin air, freezing on his track. Thankfully, Sykkuno didn’t seem to notice as he keyed in his card and the passcode. He hurriedly walked over, stepping inside and nervously said, “You guys seem close.”

“Huh?” Sykkuno replied, blinking in confusion as he tried to pull his shoes off. He seemed to have difficulty doing so, probably because he wasn’t used to this kind of shoes. They were new, too. His boss dressed him up from head to toe and Corpse was torn between feeling thankful and despairing from what Sykkuno said. “Well, we’ve worked together for some time now. I’d like to think that we’re close. He’s a nice guy and he takes care of me, too.”

Corpse didn’t say anything to that until they both got to the living room. He didn’t even know what to say. Of course, it shouldn’t even be something weird—that Sykkuno was well-liked by other people. Corpse had experienced the full blast of his charm every single day, and look at him now: a mushy, awkward oaf who regularly got a heart attack in the face of Sykkuno’s bright smile. But to hear it directly from him, to this extent especially, still made his stomach churn with something that he recognized as jealousy. Good god, he really was a pathetically hormonal teenager in puberty.

What made it worse was that, even if Corpse had come to terms with his own feelings, it still made him feel unsure about how to proceed. Sykkuno had been nothing but kind and welcoming in his attempt to be closer to the man, in his bumbling affection. But it didn’t make it less difficult to gauge Sykkuno's thoughts and feelings about it; whether he thought that Corpse just wanted to make friends, or if he noticed his embarrassing crush.

Sykkuno had never explicitly said anything about the way Corpse obviously spoiled him, his compliments, or the clothes exchange, or numerous little things that just screamed that he very much would like to hold Sykkuno’s hand and tell him to shut his pretty little mouth because it kept distracting Corpse and making him thinking about stupid things. Like kissing Sykkuno, for example.

It confused him, and he felt kinda guilty for harboring this feeling. What if Sykkuno was just trying to be nice and wanted to be his friend only? It didn’t matter that Sykkuno reciprocated his little touches and terrible attempts at flirting, even initiating the touches on his own at times. Because most of the time, Corpse felt like Sykkuno didn’t even realize that he was being flirted with, or that Corpse’s touches held a little bit more intention than his. As long as he didn’t  say something about this outright, Corpse would always be unsure and worrying.

It wasn’t like he was ashamed of liking Sykkuno. On the contrary, liking Sykkuno made Corpse happier and more content than he had ever felt in a long time. He just didn’t want to impose his feelings on him. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or pressured. This was Corpse’s feelings, and no one was responsible for it but himself. Unfortunately, he knew that Sykkuno would be the type who couldn’t reject him without feeling guilty and awkward. Above everything, he enjoyed the man’s company regardless of crushes or not. Spending time with Sykkuno and coming home to him curled up on the couch with his laptop and cups of coffee was more than enough. Even if his feelings ended up nowhere, he still would like to keep this friendship close to his heart.

He stared at Sykkuno as the man deposited his bag carefully on the table, and flopped onto the sofa with a groan. He still had his moments of shyness and stutters, but he was opening up and more relaxed around Corpse. It was nice, seeing him unguarded and trusting enough to be able to do that. Corpse decided to go back to his room first, a change of clothes would be nice. His guns were starting to dig into his sides and leg.

When he came to the living room again, comfortable and tired but still wanting to see Sykkuno, the man turned to look at him and gave a sleepy smile. His eyes were half-lidded, suit rumpled from snuggling the plushies. In just a few more months, their apartment would be completely invaded by the plushies. He didn’t really mind, as long as Sykkuno was happy about it.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “You should go back to your room and rest.”

“Mm,” Sykkuno replied noncommittally. “Later. How are you? Didn’t see you yesterday.”

He shrugged. He did his job just fine, got into a heated debate with Emma about the perfect size of holes in fishnets, and got more traumatized by Brodin’s brazen remarks. Just another day in the Comfy Cartel headquarters. “I’m good. A little bit tired.”

“Same,” the other man nodded. Then, as if flipping a switch, all traces of his sleepiness were gone, replaced with a stare that seemed to pin Corpse down on his place. “Something’s on your mind. What’s wrong?”

What could Corpse answer to that? Oh, nothing, just spiraling into thoughts about you and your boss. Also about my boss. Who’s probably going to assassinate me in cold blood, nothing much. How about you? Yeah. Right.

After that incident, Toast acted like nothing happened. He was back to his professional, if a bit brutal, work ethics. He bantered and joked around with Corpse still, and taunted him to join their strip poker game. But there was something reserved about him. He was a cold, calculating man in nature, but it felt as if he had put up his maximum fort in front of Corpse now. His eyes were colder, even more unreadable than usual. The others might have noticed it, too. Because Scarra clapped him on the shoulder, and steered him to the bar where Brodin was mixing drinks. He was almost afraid to know what he was mixing, but thankfully he was only served a glass of whiskey.

The liquid burned pleasantly in his throat. He licked the stray droplet from his lips, feeling the scar that was long since healed but still felt tender to this day. They didn’t talk about Toast, but it did make him breathe a little bit easier. He didn’t know why. Maybe because it was Scarra. The man was as mad as the rest of them, but he had moments that told Corpse of his genuine care towards his Family. Or at least, the inner circle. It gave him a warm feeling that he was considered as one.

They talked about nothing and everything, jobs and plans mostly. Toast was mentioned here and there, but never about his personal life or recent behavior. It was all and well, until Scarra dropped a bomb that Corpse would have never seen from fucking kilometers away.

“How’s Sykkuno doing? You getting along with him?” the Don asked, and Corpse spluttered on his drink.

The whiskey now burned unpleasantly, along with a feeling that came up to the forefront of his mind. The same feeling that he was out of the loop in something that he was supposed to know. Brodin handed him a glass of water and he coughed up a discernible thank you. Scarra looked at him as if he was in a dilemma between laughing and disgusted. Corpse did just spray his whiskey all over the bar.

“You- you know Sykkuno?” he asked, after he was no longer on the verge of choking to death. He seemed to do that a lot these days. A lot of things surprised him and left him puzzled lately. No one gave him clear answers, and he was slowly going insane from his curiosity.

For a moment Scarra seemed like he didn’t register his question. Then, he frowned, looking miffed. “Of course I do,” the Don said incredulously, and Corpse suddenly felt like he was being stupid for asking, though he felt like the question was sensible enough. “Why wouldn’t I know about Sykkuno?”

“Uh—“ Corpse croaked out, feeling that sense again—the one where he felt like he was missing a piece of puzzle from the board. “What.”

“What?” Scarra asked back, looking as confused as Corpse felt right now.

“I think you broke him,” Brodin interjected, calm and collected as the two men looked at each other like the other had suddenly grown three heads. “Here, have some more drinks and talk about Toast’s future plan of disposing Corpse instead.”

“ What? ” Corpse asked, eyes wide and feeling like he needed to escape to New Zealand right about now. Away from these crazy people. He could even buy a farm like he planned to, and invite Sykkuno to live there with him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” It- it was a joke, right? … Right ?

But Brodin and Scarra were already talking about the good old days when assassinations were easier than ever. Just aim and bang, bang! No cameras to record their crime, and eyewitnesses were too afraid to even say anything. They knew that witness protection meant shit when the influence of the mobs reached out even to the government.

“Toast likes to do it the traditional way,” Scarra said, almost fondly. “All the grand symbolism and slow torture. He and Michael got along like fire in that regard.”

Both men laughed at that while Corpse discreetly hoped that he wouldn’t be strapped to an electric chair while Michael’s robot dog peed beer on him. In the end, though, Brodin looked at him and said, “It’s a joke. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“Which one?” he asked again, stressed out already from close contact with the Don and Consigliere. No wonder these people got along so well. He was absolutely right from the beginning. They were all batshit insane. “The assassination, or the torture method?”

Brodin shrugged, went back to his drink. “Bet.”

Corpse left the bar feeling more traumatized than he ever felt in his life that night. Emma, who just got back from a mission, took a look at him and said, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he said, still in a daze, “you too.” His early retirement plan was looking to be more and more appealing now.

Sykkuno was still waiting patiently as he snapped out of the memory. He sighed, sitting on the other end of the couch as the other straightened himself up slowly. “I don’t really know, honestly. But I think my boss hates me,” he said in the end.

“Oh,” Sykkuno said softly. “I’m sorry about that. But you’re very kind and hardworking, Corpse. You work like, 24/7. So I think your boss is just a jerk. Or maybe they had a bad day, who knows?”

Oh, he certainly had a bad day, alright. Corpse was the main factor of it. But he couldn’t help the little smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he said. “My boss will definitely kill me if he heard it though.”

The older man laughed, then it died down to a gentle curve of his lips. It really didn’t matter how many times Corpse had thought of it, but sometimes he wondered if God really did have a favorite. Sykkuno might not be the most beautiful person on earth, objectively, but there was a certain charm to his beauty that drew Corpse in so effortlessly. It was almost scary.

“I think you need rest more than me,” he said then.

Corpse shook his head. “Yeah, I think so. I, uh, I- I don’t want to be alone yet, though.”

It almost felt like a secret, saying that. But it was out in the open already, and he thought that it was another thing that drew him in about Sykkuno. He felt safe in his vulnerability. He could entrust this side of him and he wouldn’t be judged about it. He had Emma, and Lily—in a way. But Corpse didn’t really have anyone else that was close enough to care about his physical and mental wellbeing. As much as he tried to take care of Sykkuno, he was also taken care of in a lot of ways.

“Okay,” the man said, then moved back to the corner so he could be more comfortable. He usually took up the whole couch, but he also liked to make himself into a small ball in the corner. It was endearing, though sometimes irritating because Corpse had to sit on the floor most of the time. But then, he straightened his legs instead of curling them as he often did. He patted his thigh, looking both gentle and slightly nervous. “Come here.”

Corpse understood his hesitancy, in a way. They touched a lot these days. A pat on the hand, brief hugs, a point of warm contact when they sat side by side. But it was something new, something that made flutters of giddiness and confusion reside in his stomach. He slowly moved over to put his head on Sykkuno’s lap; carefully, carefully, so he wouldn’t spook him.

Sykkuno smiled at him when he finally leaned his full weight on him. His face looked kinda weird from this angle, and Corpse noticed with a curiosity that he had a scar underneath his chin. It was mostly covered by makeup, but he could see the slightly raised skin from this close. He wondered if that was the reason why he studiously put on his makeup. He wondered if for the same reason, Sykkuno kept wearing long sleeved clothing; a way of hiding more scars on his body.

“Alright?” the man asked, and Corpse nodded. There were fingers, then, on his hair; slipping through his curls and combing gently. “Can I ask you something, Corpse?”

“Yeah?” he replied, a bit distracted because Sykkuno’s thighs were soft and his suit looked even more immaculate up close. He had a slender waist, he noticed. He had discarded his suit jacket on the arm of the couch, but he still got the vest on. It shaped up his form nicely. Corpse was starting to think that maybe this was a bad idea, after all.

“What do you actually do? Your job, I mean,” Sykkuno continued. “Do you… work with Lily?”

If Sykkuno listened carefully, he could hear Corpse’s thundering heartbeat. What should he say? That he was someone who was paid to kill people for the Family? That he threw people from a building and put another in a barrel filled with cement, dumping them in the river? He couldn’t imagine a good reaction to that. Sykkuno had never indicated that he had any insight of Corpse’s job, and though they talked a lot with each other, it was as if there was an unspoken rule to never ask about their personal life outside of the four walls of this apartment.

Should he—tell the truth? He had basically lied by omission all this time, though he gave Sykkuno his actual name. There was a chance that Sykkuno would accept his honesty, given that he knew about what his cousin did. But there was also a possibility that Sykkuno wouldn’t want to live with him anymore. What if he didn’t want to be involved at all with the world Corpse was in? What if he thought that Corpse wasn’t a good person to befriend? What if—what if he was afraid of Corpse? Because as much as Sykkuno was an oddball to begin with, he wasn’t a killer.

“Corpse?” he faintly heard Sykkuno called. His face was scrunched up in worry. From his position, it was actually kinda funny. Corpse would joke about it if he weren’t so anxious.

“I—no,” he finally decided. He didn’t want to lose this just yet. “No, I’m- I work as a personal bodyguard.” Partially true, because he used to be hired for that, too.

“Oh,” Sykkuno said. Corpse must have been more nervous than he thought, because the man sounded a little—disappointed. Did he expect Corpse to say that he was involved with the Cartel? He couldn’t think of any reason why he would want to hear that answer instead. “Okay,” he said, and continued running his fingers through Corpse’s hair. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah,” he said in a small voice. He didn’t have any problem with lying. It was basically a requirement, to hide his identity, his personal thoughts, his motive and drives, to be able to survive in the underworld. But it still didn’t make the twisting in his gut any less vicious.

“It’s okay, Corpse,” the other man continued, as if he was reassuring. Corpse didn’t know what and who he was trying to reassure. “Rest now, yeah?”

It took him a long time to calm down enough to try to sleep. Halfway through, he nearly told Sykkuno that it was alright, he could sleep in his room, no need to accompany him. But Sykkuno was warm, and he didn’t say anything about Corpse’s stuttered response, and didn’t stop caressing Corpse either. He was comfortable, despite his turmoil. And he was exhausted; from work, from everything that happened in the headquarters. It was really easy to let sleep claim him once he was willing to push all of his thoughts aside and focus on the rhythmic beat of Sykkuno’s heart, his soft hum as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally frowning and chuckling low.

In his sleep, he dreamt of a farm and Sykkuno’s smile on a sunny morning. It was a pleasant dream, though he didn’t understand why the man kept disappearing at times, and asking Corpse where had he gone off to when he was the one who went away. When Corpse asked him the same thing, all he said was, “It’s okay, Corpse. I’m not going anywhere.”

He woke up feeling strangely happy and saddened at the same time. Was it because he wanted so badly for Sykkuno to accept everything that he was? Was Sykkuno really that important to him for that kind of thought? They had only lived together for a little less than a year now. It was terrifying to think how fast Sykkuno had wormed his way into Corpse’s life and heart. It was even more terrifying to know that he didn’t mind it in the slightest, that he wanted him to stay.

To find someone he could trust enough to be this vulnerable with was hard, to have someone who inspired a feeling of safety and happiness within him was even harder. But the hardest of them all, the driving point of Sykkuno’s existence in his life, was to have someone to come home to.

The man himself was fast asleep now; head lolled to the side, one hand lying near Corpse’s head, the other on his stomach. Slowly, he lifted his hand to trace a finger on the back of Sykkuno’s palm, feeling the bump of veins and the joints of his fingers. What would it feel like, to hold his hand, and have him return the grasp?

He let out a soft sigh, carefully removing Sykkuno’s hand so he could get up. The man mumbled a little in his sleep when Corpse manhandled his body so he could lay more comfortably on the couch, pillowing his head with a plushy. He didn’t dare enter Sykkuno’s room without his permission, even if it would be better for him to sleep properly on the bed.

He might as well order something for them to eat. As he ordered them some food, Corpse couldn’t help the slightly hysteric chuckle that came out of his mouth. His life was one massive romantic comedy show with a dash of horror right now. For some reason, Sykkuno’s appearance in his life brought a brand new experience of comfort and desires that Corpse wasn’t very used to, as well as numerous complications that—despite not involving him directly, or at all—also came to the surface in tandem. It was as if he was a catalyst of some sort for these events to happen.

He wondered why exactly Lily put him here, and why Sykkuno didn’t have his own place. Judging by his belongings, it was apparent that money wasn’t the problem. Was it safety? It made a lot more sense if it was. But then again, Lily said it herself, that Sykkuno would be protected whether or not he was involved with the Cartel. He could have several guards stationed with him if that was the main concern.

He felt very much like an actor who had to act without knowing the script at all, forced to follow the rhythm of the play while everyone else played their part right. What part was he supposed to play anyway? He didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that he wanted to be a part of Sykkuno’s life. Someone close, someone he trusted. Someone—someone who didn’t lie to him at every turn.

“You’re frowning again,” Sykkuno said, startling Corpse and nearly making him drop his phone. “What are you thinking about this time?”

He reached out his hand, sluggish and still shrouded by the last remnant of sleep. When he was still sleepy like this, Sykkuno had little to no inhibition at all. Of thoughts and touches, of looks and smiles that Corpse sometimes felt like it was something private, something he shouldn’t be allowed to see. But he went anyway, because Sykkuno reached out, and he would be damned if he didn’t follow.

When he got closer, he felt the fingers clumsily trying to smooth out the frown on his face. It was endearing, as much as it made Corpse want to stand on a podium and proclaim his devotion to Sykkuno. Maybe it was too early, but then again, it wasn’t everyday that he had a pretty guy smiling at him like he was something precious. Corpse would like to think that, regardless of his feelings, he was a good enough friend for Sykkuno to look at him like that.

“You,” he decided to say, nervous and brave at the same time. This was possibly reckless, but Sykkuno had this effect on him. Making him feel daring, and reassured that he wouldn’t be alone in the wild ride, even when he fell, even when he shattered.

“What about me?”

“You look good, in your suit.” As expected, Sykkuno just curved another smile; pleased, no trace of shyness as he urged Corpse to come even closer. He knelt next to the couch, and unconsciously held his breath when Sykkuno scooted forward, his arms instinctively accommodating to support his head when he leaned it on Corpse.

“Thank you, Corpse,” the man said. “I think you look pretty rad, too.”

He smiled at the word. He had taught him that. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

Sykkuno hummed, eyes heavy and so, so warm against Corpse. “No, but I don’t need to know to say that. You still look pretty cool. All mysterious and brooding.”

That got a laugh out of Corpse. He shook his head, sitting down so Sykkuno could lean his head on his shoulder instead. His heartbeat was thrumming loudly against his ribcage, but it was drowned by the feeling of contentment, of a quiet afternoon when they both didn’t have to be away for work, when there was nothing but soft breaths and softer touches. It was as if the world was diminished to this moment only; a personal bubble that allowed Corpse to feel his affection without the heavy burden of his thoughts and guilt.

“Brooding, huh? That’s actually fitting. I do look pretty scary.” he told the man, trusting him with that personal piece about himself. At least, he could be honest in this.

Sykkuno looked up. His lashes were short and straight, but the fold of his eyelids framed his eyes in a delicate way. He had dark eyes, darker still at rare times when they sharpened and focused. It was a whole new dimension of his persona, when he did that. Like he did right now.

“Really?” he asked, not really looking bothered by the admission. “Will you let me see someday?”

It was a subtle nudge, but one that Corpse recognized nonetheless. Sykkuno had this way of putting someone on the spot, or requesting things without actually saying it; framing his request without pressure, and taking advantage of someone’s emotional response as the propeller instead. It was the way he formed his words, his inflection and his expression, and it was all too easy to agree to whatever he wanted. But Corpse did want to.

“Yeah,” he said, afraid and sure. “Someday.”

“Thank you, Corpse,” Sykkuno said, patting his hand that was perched near the man’s hips. “It means a lot to me, to be trusted like that.”

There was also this look of approval on Sykkuno’s face when you did something he wanted, replied to his questions with the right answer, or responded in the way he intended it to be. It was a very good tactic in manipulation, and Corpse wondered what it would be like if Sykkuno joined the Cartel. He would fit in very well there. Toast would like him a lot. It was a really, really good thing that Sykkuno seemed to never use that to force Corpse to do something he was uncomfortable with. Sure, at times he was called out and put on the spot—just like when Sykkuno asked him about his two-month long scrutiny back then. But it was always done in a gentle, encouraging manner; always something that Corpse had originally intended to do, but was too scared or unsure to actually do it.

He was struck with a sudden epiphany of how alike Toast and Sykkuno were, now that he thought about it. A complete opposite that undeniably walked the same trajectory in the way they figured people out, and played them in the smoothest possible way to get what they wanted. Toast’s way was admittedly more vicious, ominous. But it was understandable given his situation. Sykkuno, on the other hand, did it in a much more pleasant method, and Corpse thought that it made it even more dangerous in the end. Because people wouldn’t feel forced, wouldn’t feel like they were trapped. They just wanted to please this pretty, pretty man with his soft smiles.

It reminded him of Lily, too, and the viciousness of the Cartel. She might be the only Capo who had a clear stance on killing. But she was still a part of the Family, and she was terrifyingly competent at her job. Her softness and harmless appearance should clash horribly with everything that the Cartel did and stood for, but she enhanced it instead. She was the perfect representation of how calm water was the most dangerous of them all, for she wasn’t a Capo for no reason. Physical violence might not be her weapon of choice, but she was the one who kept the Family’s reputation afloat, and in turn, allowed the cycle of violence to continue. He wondered if Sykkuno would be the same way if he were to be put in the same environment.

Neither Sykkuno nor her had ever delved into deeper explanation about their familial ties, and Corpse didn’t want to push either. He didn’t want to open that particular can of worms in fear of exposing his own identity. It burdened him, at times—remembering that he was essentially lying to Sykkuno about a big part of himself. But everything Corpse had shown him, his words and his reactions, were his genuine feelings about Sykkuno. Nothing was fabricated about them, even if sometimes he felt like they were even more dangerous than revealing his actual job to the man.

But despite the lack of information and show of familial bond, Corpse could see it. Traces of Lily in Sykkuno’s flowing tone and awkward phrases, shadows of Sykkuno in Lily’s quiet chaos. The man wasn’t exactly as unhinged as the higher-ups of the Cartel, but there were moments when Corpse felt the difference of his demeanor so closely.

On a sticky Saturday afternoon, there were sirens from below their apartment. Corpse watched in increasing curiosity as Sykkuno—sweet, kind, stammering Sykkuno—merely gazed down from the balcony at the shenanigans on the street. It was an accident; even from afar, Corpse could tell that someone had died, judging from loud wails and calls of medics.

There was a certain sense of cold detachment in Sykkuno’s face as he tended to his plants. His fingers, long and graceful, patted each leaf and petal with such gentleness that was at odd end with his expression. If he noticed that Corpse was staring, he didn’t say anything. When the screams became louder, he finally tore his gaze away from the man next to him and looked down to see what happened.

Fire had spread around the car; there was a woman, bloody and disheveled, being held back by the police and medics. Her husband was still in the car, she screamed, most likely trapped by the badly bent metals. The loud siren of the firetruck rang in his ears in tandem with the woman’s heartbroken cries. Corpse had long since desensitized himself from this kind of thing, and he tended to keep his sympathy to people who actually mattered in his life. Then again, it was part of the requirement of doing what he did and he had been doing this for a long time.

Sykkuno, on the other hand, was a civilian who, despite supposedly having ties to a notorious mafia family, was not supposed to be this blasé in the face of this kind of tragedy. And yet, he didn’t so much as twitch as he gathered his gardening tools and arranged them neatly in a basket. It made Corpse feel… unnerved. There was something niggling on the back of his mind, Lily’s cryptic statements going around in circles like an echo of a bad dream.

“That was brutal,” he said, because the silence between them was starting to feel suffocating, even if there was so much noise on the street.

Sykkuno glanced at him, then shrugged. “He was most probably already dead anyways. What’s he gonna do, die more?”

It runs in the family, so beware.

The air was hot, even hotter still from the smoke and fire down there. But Corpse felt like there was a sudden gust of chilling wind on his back. He held back a shiver, heartbeat steadily climbing in its rhythm. It was almost ridiculous for him to feel this way. The accident had nothing to do with them, and they weren’t obligated to feel any sympathy for the husband and wife. It was completely normal if Sykkuno didn’t want to suddenly burst out in tears from the tragic turn of events. Maybe he was someone like Corpse, with his reserved empathy; maybe he simply didn’t want to be bothered by this kind of thing. But he had to admit that it was hard to reconcile the Sykkuno he had come to know and care for, with this Sykkuno who was so cold and practical.

But, was it really?

Was it really that hard to see the way Sykkuno changed his whole demeanor when he was focused—cold and untouchable? Was it really hard to notice the ease he had shown when he was talking about his hypothetical, questionably morally dubious inquiries? Was it really, truly hard to remember when Sykkuno leaned close enough for Corpse to feel the warmth of his breath, as he calmly said the damnedest thing so easily?

“Burn them, Corpse. It’ll be fun to watch,” he remembered, a smile sitting pretty on his lips like something so decidedly sadistic didn’t just come out of his mouth.

It was only a video game, and he was admittedly more distracted by the way Sykkuno was practically perching his head on Corpse’s shoulder to actually do what he had suggested. But he vividly recalled the way his heartbeat stuttered, turning his head to properly look at Sykkuno. The man was looking at nothing in particular, still leaning so close, still looking so unfairly pretty in his ominous serenity.

He wondered for a moment, if this were a real situation, and the characters were real, breathing people—would Sykkuno be this calm? Would he step close to Corpse and whisper so gently in his ears, guiding his hand with deceptively delicate fingers to pour gasoline all over the poor sods, smiling in approval as Corpse set them on fire?

But there was something about him. Something that Corpse noticed the moment Sykkuno knocked on the apartment door with a disarming smile and down-casted eyes. He had a way with his words—turning his stutters and awkward usage of terms he was unfamiliar with into something so endearing; melodic voice wrapping so smoothly around the syllables, drawing people in so effortlessly into listening to what he was saying. No matter how ridiculous, how dangerous.

One thing that Corpse noticed about Sykkuno after his three months long, embarrassingly obvious scrutiny, was his charm.

It was something that flowed subtly, almost invisible around the man. It enveloped him like a fog, spreading its tendrils when Sykkuno opened his damned mouth and asked very, very politely for someone to do the unthinkable—in both the good and bad sense. It was the way he put his attention to someone, making them feel like they were the center of his universe with his kindness and care. And then, what was left to do but to follow him the way Icarus followed the ray of the sun to his demise?

Even when he plunged to the ocean, he fell with a sense of satisfaction and happiness of finally being close enough to something that he had always adored. Sykkuno made him feel the same way. Like moths to the flame; like the unforgiving current of stormy seas—absolute, inevitable. This man was dangerous in his quiet, gentle chaos. And yet, Corpse couldn’t find it in himself to stop and save his soul.

He should have been aware of the danger in that kind of feeling. But Corpse had always been unapologetic in his loyalty. There were few people he would have devoted himself to, and he latched himself to those he found worthy of his trust. He just- he didn’t know if Sykkuno would be willing to accept the magnitude of his feelings. Especially knowing that he might not be a part of the underworld.

And yet these instances, the proof of Sykkuno’s charm that transcended the warmth and flowery kindness, down to the fleeting moments of cold apathy and apparent sadism—it created a doubt within him. If Sykkuno seemed so unbothered with this kind of behavior, then… would it be possible that Corpse could tell him who he was after all?

But if he was wrong, if this was only a part of Sykkuno’s quirk and trolling nature instead of an actual behavior that reflected his own moral standing, then not only Corpse risked losing him and their friendship, Lily would definitely cut his head off and put it on a spear. She probably would put it on display at their headquarters as a memento. Michael most definitely would appreciate it.

“Sykkuno?” he called, finding that his hand had unconsciously strayed to Sykkuno’s waist to prevent him from falling off the couch. The man didn’t say anything about it however, he might be too sleepy to care.

Sykkuno only hummed in response, though he did look up when Corpse tried to catch his eyes. He gulped, heaving a deep breath and trying to push through his locked tongue. It was—it was harder than he thought, to say this. “If- if one day, you found me doing something that you think is wrong… if I turned out to be different than what you expected, what would you do?”

There was that look again, the one that made Corpse’s instincts flare to life. For someone who could be shy of eye contact at times, Sykkuno’s stare could be overwhelming when he directed it at him. He endured it, waiting for his answer.

Then, there was a hand covering his on Sykkuno’s waist. “I never expected anything from you but your own happiness and wellbeing, Corpse. If the way you achieve those is by doing something I don’t like, then who am I to judge? It’s not like everyone likes what I do, either. So it’s okay, Corpse. I’m not going anywhere.”

He was suddenly hit by a strong sense of déjà vu. He thought that supernatural shit was cool and all, but he didn’t particularly care about them. Hard to, when the blood on his hands, the ring of the gunshots, were all far too real than something metaphysical. But Sykkuno said the exact same thing from his dream, and he didn’t know how he should feel about that.

His answer, however, calmed his chaotic thoughts and worries. He didn’t know whether Sykkuno would pull through with his statement, but it was enough at this moment. He nodded, fingers squeezing the slender waist momentarily before he let go. He wasn’t reprimanded for that, either.

“Okay, yeah- okay,” he said, smiling a little from how relieved he was. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” Sykkuno asked, pushing a little but still letting Corpse make the decision nonetheless.

“No,” he said, “not right now.”

“Cool,” the man replied easily, then his face brightened a little as mirth came back to his eyes. “But can we eat now, though? I’m hungry.”

Corpse chuckled. “I already ordered some food. It should be here in twenty minutes or so.”

“Have I ever told you you’re awesome?” Sykkuno said, grinning and leaning his head closer to Corpse.

He was pretty sure that the man could pretty much hear his quick-paced heartbeat with how close they were right now, but Corpse didn’t let go. “Sometimes. But not today, no.”

“Well, there you are, then,” came the reply, along with a laugh and sense of comfort and familiarity that made Corpse feel weak in the knees.

He still had his worries; about his feelings, about the mystery and confusion surrounding Sykkuno, about Toast and Yuno, about what he wanted to do with his desires. But right now, holding Sykkuno in his arms, tired and comfortable, he was alright.

Right here, in his apartment, on the couch that had been monopolized by Sykkuno—at ease, at home.

-

If there was something that Corpse couldn’t get used to, and probably could never get used to—it was the way Sykkuno just bloomed into intimacy ever since the hoodie incident. They were neither too close nor too indifferent of each other previously, even if Corpse was pretty sure anyone could see the way he was tripping over himself in his haste to please this soft, morally questionable, infinitely confusing man. But as if they had crossed an invisible line that dictated the limit of their closeness, Sykkuno didn’t even bother with baby steps as he just propelled through with full throttle of his touches and remarks that always made Corpse choke on thin air.

Over the course of the months they had lived together, Corpse had compiled up what he had known about Sykkuno. He knew that the man never woke up before one in the afternoon; he liked his coffee bitter, though he liked sweet drinks; he liked tending to his plants, playing video games with overly loud remarks in-between, writing analysis reports, and standing awkwardly in the middle of their apartment when he forgot what he initially wanted to do. He took up the whole space on the couch, unabashedly put his plushies everywhere in the living room once Corpse told him he didn’t mind them, had a questionable fashion sense, and actually quite liked it when he got his nails painted.

He could be so dramatic, too. Corpse had seen this too many times when they played video games together. Sykkuno had a terrifying range of consoles at his disposal, and he brought almost everything to the living room after he roped Corpse into playing Mario Karts together—he was terrible at it, but he laughed the hardest at every misfortune that befell his character. On nights that they happened to be in the house together, they would play whatever Sykkuno wanted and Corpse would follow.

“It’s okay, Corpse,” he said, sounding miserable and resigned. He hung his head low, leaning against his army of plushies for support. “You can take it, you deserve it. Go on and continue your journey to the temple. I’ll just… stay here and wait until death reclaims me. I hope you’ll find a better place to be, somewhere kinder than hell.”

“Sykkuno…” he called out, voice hoarse from disbelief and holding in his laughter. “It’s just a fucking item. We can farm again for another drop, oh my god.”

And Emma said that he was a dramatic son of a bitch. She should have seen the way Sykkuno’s eyes just took that faraway look, lips downturned and trembling ever so slightly as he heaved out a deep breath. He crawled closer to clutch Corpse’s arm, effectively short-circuiting his mind and rationality. “Just know that I will always think about you when they drag me down, Corpse. Go, this is your destiny.”

He tried to regulate his breathing, ridiculously distracted by the warmth of Sykkuno’s fingers and the little frown that made his face just seem so—so. He couldn’t even find the right word to express how much he wanted to throw the console away and take him in his arms. He knew that this was just Sykkuno joking around, but he was a weak, weak man and Sykkuno was far too pretty this close. How could anyone ever deny him anything? He would travel down to hell himself just to chase the whisper of Sykkuno’s laughter if it meant he could be by his side. Maybe it would be safer for anyone, Corpse included, if the man was to cover his face all the time. He wasn’t sure if one man alone was allowed to have this much power over anyone else.

“I won’t,” he said, aware of the way Sykkuno was looking at him so closely, almost intimate in his undivided attention. He realized with a detached sense of alarm, that what he was about to say was more than simply playing along. “We all go to hell anyway. So instead of waiting for my turn, I’ll go with you.”

He half expected Sykkuno to laugh, to act even more dramatically. But he just continued to look at Corpse, fingers still clasped around his arm. The music coming out of the speakers sounded so faint in his ears, drowned by his thundering heartbeat. Both of their characters were already swarmed by the monsters, groans of pain interjecting in-between his careful breaths. He didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to look away even for a second.

It was as if he was waiting for—for something . He didn’t know what. But the moment Sykkuno’s lips slowly curled into a smile, his grip tightening for a second before retreating altogether, Corpse finally let out a shaky exhale. He felt like he just passed the hardest test without studying, without even knowing what he should prepare for, or what the test was about. It was nerve-wracking, but he couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction and pride when Sykkuno took back his console and sat just a little bit closer to him than before.

“Oh,” the man said, face dumbfounded as he looked at the screen. “We- we died, Corpse.”

And then he laughed, hard and genuine behind his palm. Corpse laughed along with him, didn’t feel even the slightest bit of irritation as their characters dropped all their hard-earned belongings—including the item that had started this whole debacle. Maybe that was what Sykkuno was trying to do: distract him enough so they both died and had to restart from the last save point. He gotta admit that it was working splendidly with his stupidly infatuated lizard brain.

“If you were to have another name, what would it be?” Sykkuno asked another time, lounging on the couch with his laptop open.

Corpse came over with a cup of coffee that he put on the table. He made coffee for him every morning, now. Or, whenever they happened to be in the house at the same time. Between Sykkuno’s erratic schedule, and Corpse’s irregular missions, they found themselves spending time in the oddest hour. This wasn’t even a morning coffee, though technically, it was . It was almost three in the morning after all. He didn’t question Sykkuno’s sleeping time, since his was basically as disastrous. It would be a wonder if either of them would live to their late thirties—aside from the obvious risks of his job.

“Move over,” he said, nudging Sykkuno’s legs aside. The man shot him a grateful look as he sipped on his coffee. “You’re welcome,” he added smugly. He was pretty proud of himself. After all, Sykkuno rarely ever critiqued his coffee anymore. After numerous trials and the man’s fond smile behind his too thick, too watery, too sweet, too tasteless coffee, Corpse was finally able to make one that got Sykkuno patting his hand softly in approval. Lily would probably look at him with a mix of disgust and a shit-eating grin that screamed, ‘ I told you so ’. Emma would just call him a dog and laugh at his face for ten minutes straight.

Even if he did feel like a dog, just a little bit. It was really hard to not be pleased with himself when he could provide what Sykkuno wanted. The man’s bright smile, soft thank you s, and the way he had taken to touch Corpse when he did something for him was something heady and intoxicating. A pat on his hand, a caress on his arm, a warm hand grasping his for a moment, a centimeter of distance erased when he tried to get closer to where Corpse was.

Sykkuno hummed around the rim of his cup, looking at Corpse with a raised eyebrow. Oh, right. “Hmm… I don’t know. Randall, probably. Sounds pretty fitting, no?”

The other man chuckled a little. “That sounds like someone who works in an automobile shop,” he said, going along with the obvious teasing.

“That is an awfully specific description,” he replied, feigning suspicion. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“Or something,” Sykkuno nodded, and put his feet on Corpse’s lap as if it was something he had done a hundred times before. He didn’t say anything about it, but it was far too casual to pass up as something natural, and Sykkuno refused to look away from his laptop afterwards. His feet were strained, not quite settling down yet. As if he was afraid that Corpse would push him away.

Corpse kinda wanted to scream and perform a backflip at the same time. Here was the most gorgeous man on earth, in his humble opinion, and he was slowly making Corpse lose his mind with his kitten-lick touches that caught him off-guard every single time . He knew that this was Sykkuno’s way of allowing him into his life, to know him; that this was his way of reciprocation of Corpse’s efforts. And though he was overjoyed by it, it also turned him a dumb oaf who suddenly didn’t know how to use his words—didn’t know what to think of anything aside from Sykkuno’s calloused hands and his stupid chicken laughter. He didn’t think that blurting out, wow, you’re so cute, wanna buy a farm and adopt a bald cat together? would be helping his case either.

So as a dumb oaf with a lizard brain, and admittedly mushy heart, he slowly grasped Sykkuno’s ankle in his hand and said, “Wouldn’t mind having a customer like you everyday, though. You don’t even have to buy anything, just come and sit and ask for some coffee.”

The laughter that followed was muffled and hidden behind the cup of coffee, but it warmed his heart nonetheless. “You’re a terrible employee,” Sykkuno accused, though he was slowly relaxing and leaning more of his legs’ weight onto Corpse’s lap.

“My boss said the same thing,” he agreed, remembering Lily and Toast complaining about Corpse when he bugged them about Bingus, and relentlessly using internet lingos to piss them off. Thinking about Toast, however, brought back a certain memory of his cold stare that day. It had been weeks , and still it haunted his mind like a particularly pesky nightmare. So, he quickly shook off that thought and asked back, “What’s yours, then?”

Unlike him, Sykkuno readily answered the question. “Yuno,” he said, and put down his coffee back on the table.

The soft clink of glass meeting wood seemed to be magnified a thousand times as Corpse froze in his seat. He remembered what Lily said that day, how he thought that it was a bad omen. It would be funny if it weren’t so ominous; one coincidence after another. He swallowed down the flurry of thoughts that bombarded his brain, opting to act as if he weren’t particularly bothered by that answer.

“Why that one?” he asked, heart accelerating as he tried to sit still and not jostle Sykkuno’s feet off his lap.

The man shrugged. “Well, you take off the Sykk and you got Yuno! Pretty neat, huh?”

Sykk. Yuno Sykk. The man who was important enough to be let free to roam around Los Santos; a man who was valued enough that he indirectly got the city out of the grasp of one of the most notorious mafia families. A man who Corpse admired, and Toast held dear. A man, who might possibly be closer than he possibly thought to his life. But—was he really—?

“What’s wrong?” Sykkuno called out, frowning a little. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh,” he fumbled. Should he ask? Was it wise to ask? Lily had warned him about Yuno, and Toast had single-handedly made Corpse feel more threatened than he ever felt in a long time because he accidentally got a glimpse of the man in his private time. Would it really be worthy to voice out his curiosity? If he were wrong about this, it might prompt Sykkuno to ask questions about how he knew about that particular name. But then again—why would he choose that particular name?

“Nothing,” he continued carefully. “It just—sounds familiar.”

“Oh,” Sykkuno replied, eyes unreadable. “Well, there are thousands of Yunos out there, I suppose.”

Right. There were a lot of people with that name. Corpse could remember at least ten anime characters with that name on the top of his head. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe the incident with Yuno and Toast affected him more than he thought, that he started to see everything in a tunneled vision.

He nodded, thankful that he was wearing a mask so Sykkuno didn’t see the full extent of his crisis. The man went back to his coffee and laptop after that, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He really needed to get a grip on this. Not only that he kept suspecting about Sykkuno’s possible involvement in the Cartel, he also kept connecting the dots that weren’t even there in the first place. So what if Sykkuno’s apparent lack of moral grip was fitting as a part of the underworld? There were plenty of people with the same point of view and they weren’t necessarily criminals.

His relief didn’t last long, however. Because Sykkuno put down his coffee again, and asked, “You said it sounds- sounds familiar. Where did you hear about that name?”

Fucking hell . At this point, Corpse might as well lie in the grave he had dug by himself. Because instead of spouting nonsense about fictional characters, what came out of his mouth was: “It’s the name of a- a criminal in Los Santos. I- I heard of him a few times. Being a bodyguard and all.”

He didn’t even know if a bodyguard was supposed to know something so specific like that. There was no way to take back what he said, however. So he just fidgeted quietly in his seat, waiting and gauging for Sykkuno’s reaction.

What he got, however, made him torn between feeling guilty and confused. Because Sykkuno looked—crestfallen. His eyes were down-casted, a bitter smile pulling at his lips.

“A criminal, huh?” he said softly, then went silent.

Did he say something wrong? He didn’t think that what he said could even be considered wrong. He was just relaying information, after all, despite leaving the details. He didn’t understand why Sykkuno would look so downtrodden. Maybe- maybe because he knew that Corpse was lying? Because he knew that in no way you would be familiar with a lawfully wrong person—from another city nonetheless, even if it was quite close—unless you were familiar with the same world they were in. Could it be that Sykkuno knew he was lying when he said he didn’t work with Lily?

He didn’t know. He felt like there were a lot of things that he didn’t know and was confused about nowadays. He was sick of feeling like this. He wanted a definite answer so he could understand. He wanted to stop being so afraid of asking and saying about what he thought, what he kept inside his head. He wanted to know what to do .

“Sykkuno?” he asked cautiously. “Are you- is everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” he replied, quick and near emotionless. “Don’t worry about it, Corpse.”

He did worry about it. But he kept his mouth shut; didn’t want to push Sykkuno further away, didn’t want to overcomplicate his thoughts anymore.

For the first time in a while, they shared the space in a tense silence instead of a companionable one. It was more painful than he thought, after being so used to the easy camaraderie between them; to Sykkuno’s playful banter and comforting smile.

Sykkuno finished his coffee after some time, and pulled his legs away from Corpse. He let it happen, with a sense of loss that shouldn’t be that acute. He took his laptop with him and stood up. “I’m kinda tired. I’m gonna nap for a bit.”

Even if they lived in the same place, Sykkuno had this endearing habit of saying ‘bye-bye, Corpse’ when each of them retreated into their rooms or went outside. This time, however, he just left without saying anything but his curt parting words. Corpse watched his back as he slipped into his room, hands fisted so tightly he could feel the nails cutting into his skin. He didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like making Sykkuno sad, even if he didn’t know the reason.

But there was nothing he could do but wait until Sykkuno came out of his reverie. If he pushed, the man might retreat into himself even more. He gritted his teeth and went to his own room. When in doubt, annoy Emma.

“If it’s about your mount Everest-sized crush on Sykkuno, I swear to god—“

“I fucked up,” he cut her off, voice devoid of emotion and still so, so miserable. He heard her falling silent, knowing that Corpse was evidently in emotional distress. Man, she really was a good gremlin, huh. “I- I don’t know what I said wrong. But he just—clammed up and left. I don’t know how to make this better, Em.”

“How about you tell me from the beginning?” Emma said, gently. Corpse hated being coddled; it just went against his instinct after so long surviving by himself. But he did need this care right now, and Emma was a friend who understood him more than anyone else.

“He- he’s been asking me these questions,” he started. He sounded like he was trembling, and he noticed with a detached sort of surprise that his hands were indeed shaking. “Asking about whether or not I work with Lily, asking about names I’m not supposed to know if I’m just a mere bodyguard. He- we- we were talking about nothing, about fake names, holy fuck. How did it go so wrong ?”

He vaguely heard Emma saying something in an uncharacteristically soft voice, trying to soothe him. So he pushed forward. She deserved that for putting up with him, even though she didn’t need to. “He said he can name himself Yuno, take some damn alphabets out of his name—take the fucking Sykk, and have Yuno instead.”

“Oh, fuck,” Emma said, with feelings. She didn’t know about what happened between Yuno, Toast, and him, but she did know about his fanboying phase with Yuno. Inevitably, she would understand that the name struck a chord inside him.

“Yeah,” he chuckled bitterly. “Fuck. I blurted out that it sounds familiar. He asked where I heard that name from. I could have said something about Yuno Gasai—he watches anime, for fuck’s sake. Things wouldn’t be so bad if my stupid mouth didn’t say anything about Yuno Sykk.”

He stopped for a moment, and she waited patiently. He needed to take a few big gulps of air, trying futilely to stop the fear and panic inside his chest. Sykkuno had just opened up to him, and he already fucked shits up. “I think he knew I was lying to him, Em. Why else would I specifically talk about Yuno Sykk, if I’m not in the same circle of work? He sounded so dejected when I said criminal. He- he probably guessed correctly that I’m one too. Of course he would react that way—what normal person would want to have a criminal associate, let alone a friend? He’s Lily’s cousin, Don Scarra knew about him, and he’s not even in the Cartel. For what other reason except that he doesn’t want to be involved with the likes of us?”

“Corpse,” Emma interjected. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. This is the path you’ve chosen since a long time ago, even before Sykkuno. I know you must be thinking about all the worst possible things right now, but that’s why I’m here. To filter those shits out. So listen carefully, okay?”

“Okay,” he said weakly. Emma was right. He was spiraling into all his biggest fears, and it prevented him from thinking straight.

“I don’t know about Lily personally, but I think for someone in her position, it’s too much work and risky to take care of a family who rejects this kind of world, don’t you think? She wouldn’t be putting him there with you if that were the case. But if he really is upset because of what you do, then he’s an ignorant, privileged asshole,” she said, the bitching tone seeping into her words with an intensity that made Corpse let out a genuine laugh.

“Few of us are born into this kind of world, Corpse,” she continued. “We both know that neither you nor I are one of those. This isn’t our first choice in life, but we took this path anyway because we wanted to live. Because we’re good at this, and it was, in a way, detrimental to our survival back then. So don’t—don’t sell yourself too short, okay? You’re a bad bitch.”

He smiled a little. People wouldn’t expect Emma to be so good at consoling people at first glance. But she had helped him multiple times through his emotional crises. He really would kill the president for this person, he thought fondly—

“As in you’re bad and you’re a bitch,” Emma added.

—and then maybe kill her afterward too.

“Bitch,” Corpse muttered under his breath.

“I’m a prettier bitch than you, at least,” she laughed. Then, softer, “But you won’t be this down bad for him if he’s really a jerk, you know? I think it’s more of the lying part than the criminal part, Corpse. Talk to him about it, instead of brooding and angsting around your apartment. It’ll be okay; he seems like a good bloke, if a little mental. He endured you , after all.”

“Hey!” he protested, indignant. “I’ll have you know that I’m a good company, very mature and caring. You’re lucky that I grace you with my presence.”

“Ew,” Emma quipped, and he could see her disgusted face from miles away. Emma was one of the few people he knew that expressed everything she said wholeheartedly; emotive whenever her resting bitch face wasn’t there. It was starkly different from Sykkuno’s seemingly impeccable control of his expressions. “ I’ll have you know that you have the emotional maturity of a sunfish.”

“What the fuck,” he said, laughter bubbling up in his throat, something genuine that eased his worries a little. “You fucking dead jellyfish.”

They threw one insult after another for the rest of the call, and Corpse allowed himself to forget his troubles for a moment. He was just—he was glad that he had someone to fall back to, in time when he doubted himself like this.

“You’re still gonna overthink about this, aren’t you?” Emma said in the end, a little bit sad, fully understanding.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said helplessly.

“Take your time, bud,” she told him, “you’re allowed to take care of yourself too, you know? I get it that you like him a lot, but you’ve been so wrapped up in Sykkuno that you forgot that there are things outside of—whatever it is that you have with him. You can’t go around letting this drag you down. You’re gonna get killed. Don’t let this distract you, but don’t forget about it.”

“That’s surprisingly good advice, coming from you,” he said, not without a hefty amount of affection coloring his voice.

“I wasted my breath on you,” she said, then clicked off the phone call.

He lay back on his bed, stared at his ceiling and mulled over what she said. She was right, and she voiced out what he had thought. It still wouldn’t be easy, however. He wasn’t good at communicating his feelings, or communicating, period. He was good with his punches and guns, and he was good at falling on his knees for a pretty boy with a secretly dangerous glint in his eyes. But this would take him some time to actually have the courage to apply it in practicality.

His stomach was still taut with a big ball of anxiety, but he could breathe easier now. It was okay to take his time, take care of his emotional and physical wellbeing. Emma had been on point when she said that Sykkuno had consumed his life without him realizing it. Granted, he had allowed it to happen, and he thought that he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon in prioritizing Sykkuno over a lot of matters. But it was also important to prioritize himself, too.

Sykkuno said that he didn’t expect anything from Corpse, that he wouldn’t go anywhere. Corpse just hoped that it would be enough when shit went to hell and he was left with nothing but lies and affection that had resided so deeply inside his lungs, the beat of his heart.

He desperately wished, with everything he could muster, that by the time Corpse sorted his issues out, Sykkuno would still be there to welcome him home.

-

For the next few days, it was incredibly tense in the apartment. The tension was so palpable in the air that Corpse felt like he could be cut in half if he wasn’t careful enough. Funnily enough, he thought that the possibility was all too real. Because Sykkuno- he- he was just different .

Even when he first started living here, in all his shyness and reserved glory, it was all too easy to be comfortable around him. Now, he was as reserved as he used to be, with none of his kind smiles and playful banter. He went back to making his own coffee, waking up earlier than Corpse and only spared him an acknowledging nod when he stepped into the kitchen. It hurt in ways he didn’t think would be possible.

All the little things that he was so used to—simple greetings, making Sykkuno his coffee to start the day, small talks about whatever stupid thing that crossed their minds, the soft smiles and warm glances—they were no longer there, and Corpse felt like he had lost his footings. His legs weren’t broken yet, but he stumbled more than he expected.

Back when he was just a grunt, or even when he was only starting as an enforcer, Corpse used to spend his free time in the headquarters. Jobs could go in suddenly, and there was always a need for foot soldiers to take care of some heavy-lifting business. He didn’t have anything to do in his apartment other than perfecting his workspace and fiddling with his music sometimes. Sykkuno’s arrival brought a lot of changes in his life, not only emotional wise, but also filling his stagnant days with excitement and tidbits of happiness that piled up and covered every corner of the previously quiet apartment.

He knew that what happened that day hurt Sykkuno, in some way. He didn’t know exactly why, but it was evident in the way he absolutely refused to even look at Corpse. They didn’t talk, he didn’t offer Corpse to play some games, and he left for work with only a short, “I’m going.”

“What’s up with you?” Michael, of all people, asked. “You got constipation or something?”

“Uh,” he was weirded out that the boy- man- mad scientist sought him out personally. They had talked before, but mostly in business or when Michael was playing around with the other Capos. “Nothing, I’m fine and dandy.”

“No way,” the Capo said, a frown on his youthful face. “I barely see you around here anymore except when you have a job. And now you’re just waddling around here like a lost dog or something. Oh— oooh .”

There was a shine in his eyes, one that spelled nothing but trouble. Before he could guess what misfortune that was going to befell him, Michael screamed on the top of his lungs, looking more excited than what was appropriate.

“Lily! Lily, your dog got into a fight with Sykkuno!” the man shouted, running to where Lily had just appeared on the lounge with Poki in tow.

She took a brief look at him, a perfect eyebrow raised as she continued walking. “No, I don’t want to know about your lover’s quarrel.”

“It’s not—it’s not a lover’s quarrel!” he denied, flushing despite it.

“True,” she continued. “You’re not his boyfriend yet. It certainly is a quarrel, though. But I haven’t heard anything from Sykkuno, so congratulations. You’re not gonna die—for now.”

He sighed miserably, wanting very much to just curl up and die. He admirably ignored the ‘boyfriend’ part. “I thought you don’t like killing people,” he muttered sullenly.

Lily let out a laugh, looking at him as if Corpse was a very, very confused child. In a way, he was. He was confused as fuck. “Me? You thought I’m going to kill you? Oh, Corpse,” she cooed sweetly, but it sounded terribly ominous in his ears. “Sykkuno is more than capable of doing that himself, if he wanted to.”

“It’s a shame that he doesn’t,” Michael grumbled, looking miffed all of the sudden. He probably would enjoy that. Why was everyone so happy about the thought of Corpse getting killed anyway? Was it a new trend or something?

It was only a joke, he knew. But when he came back to the apartment—and didn’t it just cut his heart when he realized that he couldn’t say he was coming home —he started to wonder if Lily’s premonition would come true. In the span of a few days that he spent in the headquarters, Sykkuno had reverted further and further into himself. It had been more than a week since they last properly talked, or even looked at each other.

His eyes, usually so gentle and full of mirth, were hard and cold. He was tense all the time, and he spent his time either in his room, or with his phone. He called a lot of people, and Corpse was becoming more and more nervous when Sykkuno started to snap out things to whoever it was on the other end of the line. He had never seen the man like this. Even when he was stressed out from his work, he usually just looked tense and focused. But he always had time to talk to Corpse or spare him some smiles and greetings, asking him about his day and other little things. There was none of those right now.

He had tried to approach him, too. Some offer for lunch or coffee, or to watch whatever lame movie on the TV. But all he got was a shake of Sykkuno’s head, most of the time he didn’t even look at Corpse before he refused the offer. He no longer brought his laptop and did his work in the living room, and he noticed that the army of plushies was getting more and more sad looking as the days passed without Sykkuno there to cuddle them to death. Corpse commiserated along with them in their loneliness.

Because he was lonely. He had never really thought about it before, because he had nothing to put as a comparison previously. He was so focused on work and thinking about whatever stupid things he fancied at the moment in his spare time so he wouldn’t go insane. But now, even with Sykkuno just a room away from him, he felt incredibly lonely. Like he was living by himself all over again. The apartment felt strangely cold. Even the plants Sykkuno had put on their balcony seemed to be wilting in tandem with his feelings. He attended to them now. Sykkuno sparsely came out of his room, much less to interact with Corpse or his plants.

The peak of it all was when Corpse found enough courage to knock on Sykkuno’s door and peered inside. “Hey, uh, Sykkuno. Do you want to grab some tacos to- eat…” he trailed off, the man was saying something so rapidly to someone on the phone, his free hand resting on the keyboard and sometimes typing something away.

“What do you mean—“ he started, then stopped himself when someone cut him off, their voice tinny and intelligible. “I didn’t hear about that—wait. Ray, wait .”

He wasn’t quite snapping, but it was something close. When he turned to look at Corpse, he couldn’t help the shiver that broke all over his skin; the alarm in his head blaring so loudly that his ears were ringing from the shock. He unconsciously reached for a gun that wasn’t there on his back, and even that small movement garnered Sykkuno’s attention. His eyes were sharp, searching, dangerous. Corpse felt the beginning of sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

He had met dangerous people in his line of work, a lot of them. He knew about fear; it would be stupid not to otherwise. Someone without a fear was bound to be found dead in an empty alleyway. He had learned how to mold his fear into an instinct that had served him well all these years, kept him out of precarious situations. But there were only a few instances when he felt like he was feeling right now.

A feeling that he was about to be devoured, that he was nothing but a mere prey in the face of a wild beast. There was a silent threat that wafted off of Sykkuno like an encompassing poisonous gas. Corpse’s heart was beating so hard that his chest hurt. Neither of them said anything for a while, the tinny voice from the phone was the only noise he could hear.

Then, very slowly, Sykkuno opened his mouth. For some reason, Corpse’s heart seized up at that, he felt like the beast was about to lunge forward and maul him, tearing him apart into pieces. This was fear—and more than the fear for his survival, it was also a fear of not knowing who this man in front of him was. It was Sykkuno’s face, Sykkuno’s eyes, voice, and lips. But Corpse felt like the loop that he had been out of for the longest of time finally threw him away to the outer orbit. All the moments when he experienced the twist of Sykkuno’s sinister thoughts and questionable morals flashed through his mind. He had known about that for a while now. But he didn’t know to what extent it would reach.

“Don’t,” Sykkuno said, low and slow. His voice was spine-chilling soft, and Corpse knew that this was a threat. “Ever come into my room without my permission. Do you understand?”

He felt himself nodding stiffly, heart still beating a mile a minute. Sykkuno is more than capable of doing that himself, if he wanted to . Did he want to, now? Even without moving a muscle, even when Corpse knew he could put up a fight in the worst case scenario, the possibility of Sykkuno killing him felt very, very real now.

“Good,” Sykkuno nodded, just the smallest dip of his chin. “Close the door behind you when you leave. Please.”

Despite his words, Corpse knew an order when he saw one. He retreated, breathless from a danger that he wasn’t sure had passed. Sykkuno didn’t wait around to see whether he followed his order. He immediately went back to his phone call, looking increasingly irritated by the second.

Just before Corpse closed the door, he heard him saying, “I can’t . You know I can’t right now, Ray. No—no, don’t you ‘ baby ’ me. I have to prepare for our big project. You—“ then as if the switch was flipped off, Sykkuno’s voice went soft. He sounded so helpless, almost to the point of getting teary. It made Corpse ache with his inability to help him. How could he, when Sykkuno had pushed him away with such decisiveness?

“You know this is important for me, Ray. I don’t- I don’t want to disappoint you again, any of you.”

He decided it was high time he stopped eavesdropping the conversation. Sykkuno had been so closed off these days that it was such a shock to hear him be that vulnerable. And it hurt, a lot, to hear him being that frail and open to someone else, someone who called him baby . Someone he didn’t want to disappoint.

Jealousy was a green-eyed monster who laughed at him so cruelly, whispering in his ears about how he was losing Sykkuno. It felt like his time with the man was borrowed, limited. And now, the hourglass was broken and he tried futilely to grasp the sand that was slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to lose him this fast—didn’t want to lose him, ever.

That realization wrung a gasp out of him, something painful that prompted a self-deprecating laugh to follow. So what if he didn’t know about Sykkuno completely? He himself hid a lot of things from him. So what if Sykkuno had a terrifying, sinister nature and complete disregard of someone’s life? Corpse had killed more people than he cared to remember, and he felt comfortable in the Cartel, with people who might be worse than the both of them combined. So what if he was descending too fast to the ground, not even bracing for the impact? Sykkuno had given him a taste of company that went beyond everything he could ever hope for, and for that alone, Corpse was willing to acknowledge that he was still so helplessly, unquestionably falling for this man.

It was funny how something akin to a near death experience worked as a catalyst to understand his feelings. Maybe he was just so used to the danger and adrenaline of surviving that it needed him to be in the same situation for his mind to focus on the issue and actually thought of something to resolve his plight. Not everything was resolved, of course. But it cemented his resolution to come clean, to tell Sykkuno about who he was and how he was feeling.

He didn’t want to be in this cold war anymore. If his identity and his lies were the root of the problem, then he was willing to risk it. Anything, anything to have Sykkuno by his side once more.

Now wasn’t the right time, however. Going by the conversation, it was clear that the man was stressed out because of his work. He felt the prickle of jealousy surfacing at the memory of Sykkuno’s soft admission to Ray . Whoever that person is, they were obviously someone important to him. A colleague from work? Another one of his quirky bosses who was charmed by him?

He shook his head, feeling stupid when he realized he looked very much like a dog trying to shake water off his ears. Maybe that was what he was trying to do; to shake those unnecessary thoughts from his head. Michael did say he was a dog, and he couldn’t help but see the irony in his metaphor.

Maybe—after Sykkuno was done with his big project, Corpse could take him out. As in, outside. A café, a restaurant, arcade, movies, anywhere. They spent their time in the apartment all this time. Corpse had never even seen Sykkuno out when he went to work. He was either still sleepy, wasn’t in the apartment, or simply didn’t think that he needed to. He had only found out Sykkuno rode a bike on that day in the lift.

And yet, despite his resolution and plans, things were getting much, much worse from there. Sykkuno nearly didn’t go out of his room anymore. Corpse sometimes heard his frustrated grunt, the clack of the keyboard almost deafening from how often they were heard. He had been on his computer all the time, without rest. He himself didn’t have any job to do, and Lily told him that his mission to Los Santos was cancelled. He was to prepare for another big mission several months from now, and small tasks here and there. He suspected that it had something to do with Toast. But it really didn’t matter, now that he had more time to approach Sykkuno without going away for a long time in-between.

He didn’t try to push as much, opting to just be there and help Sykkuno if he ever needed it. He periodically reminded him to come out and eat, each time always getting a variation of ‘later, okay, not in the mood’ from inside the room. But he bought food for the man anyway. Sometimes the food was eaten, sometimes it just sat there in the fridge until Corpse had to throw it away. He was worried, but he trusted that Sykkuno could handle himself and wouldn’t do stupid things like exhaust his physique before his big day.

But it seemed that he had overestimated his confidence in Sykkuno’s ability to take care of his well being. It was nearly two days; the sound of keyboard, frustrated snaps, and intelligible mutters continued without stopping. Sykkuno only came out once to eat, brought a whole jug of coffee, and several bottles of water. And then he disappeared into his room again.

By the third day with the same cycle, Corpse was already worried sick. When Sykkuno came out again—to make more coffee, instead of eating—he had had enough. He caught Sykkuno’s wrist when he was about to pour the coffee beans into the grinder, startling the man and making the beans clatter all over the kitchen counter. He took the pouch of beans from the man’s hand and settled it somewhere without looking.

“Corpse,” he said, upset and looking haggard. His hair was a mess, dark circles underneath his eyes, the smell of sweat and coffee clinging to his rumpled shirt. It was unfair how he still managed to look decently attractive despite his appearance, but still. This wasn’t okay. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

He tried to pull his hand away, but Corpse had always been stronger between them, despite him being shorter. Sykkuno had a kind of hidden strength that came out at the most unexpected time. But Corpse was built for this. He had been using his body as a weapon for as long as he remembered. So he held on, grip tightening so Sykkuno didn’t have any choice but to let it happen unless he wanted to sprain his wrist.

“I know you’re still pissed off at me,” he started, and Sykkuno’s lips tightened into a thin line at that. “And I know you’re busy. But this has to stop, Sykkuno. You’re not taking care of yourself; you look like shit, you barely eat, or even rest. You’re going to collapse if you keep this up. So please, just this once, listen to me, okay? Eat something, and stop- for fuck’s sake, stop putting more caffeine into your body if you don’t want your heart to explode.”

Sykkuno didn’t say anything, but he gritted his teeth through it all. His eyes were furious, as if he wanted to shout at Corpse that he was aware , but whatever he got to say wasn’t more important than what the man was currently preparing for right now. But frankly, Corpse didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t know what project he was working on, and it wasn’t his business. All he cared about was Sykkuno and his health, his happiness. He was evidently not happy, and he was well on his way to be sick if Corpse let this continue.

He half-expected Sykkuno to snap at him, or maybe to acquiesce to his request. But the lines of his face were hard, and he looked at Corpse without a speck of empathy in them. He felt his heart fall even before Sykkuno opened his mouth and said, “Is that all? Are you done?”

He heaved a deep breath. No matter how besotted, how worried, how weak he was to Sykkuno, he still had his own temper. The cruel jealousy that he thought he had quelled slithered around his ribcage, telling him to snap back. All he got for his trouble was a cold shoulder and hurtful remarks. But Sykkuno was willing to soften his temper, show his fragility to someone else. He wanted to hurl insults, pushing him further to answer his questions and demands. Make Sykkuno know that if he wanted to play with fire, Corpse would let him burn. He was willing to put up with Sykkuno, but it didn’t mean that he would let himself be stepped all over.

His hand gripped Sykkuno’s wrist harder, a satisfaction coursing through him when he saw the wince that the man tried to cover. There would be splatters of bruises there come the morning. Good , he thought viciously, so Sykkuno could remember. He would regret this later, a voice niggled on the back of his mind. But right now, nothing mattered to him but the coldness in the man’s eyes, the threat that Corpse expressed with his whole body.

“No, I’m not done. You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” he growled out, pulling the hand in his grip forcibly until Sykkuno stumbled forward. “Prancing around like you’re the only one allowed to be mad. What are you, a fucking princess? You need me to cater to you like a good little dog while you dump all of your frustration on me?”

Sykkuno looked away for a moment, shoulders trembling from barely concealed anger. His other hand was in a tight fist, poised as if he was ready to punch Corpse. But he didn’t say anything, and Corpse barreled through.

“I’m worried; did you know that? Ever thought that maybe I care ?” he said scathingly. “You’re one step away from collapsing, because of what? Because you didn’t want to disappoint Ray ? Well, you know what? You’re gonna disappoint whoever that is, because by the time you need to be there, you’re gonna be strapped to a hospital bed from your own stupidity. Is that what you want? If it is, then go on. Work yourself to death for your little project , and watch how you’re going to disappoint—“

“That’s enough, Corpse,” Sykkuno cut in. He stepped closer on his own, almost nose to nose. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, or my friends, or what I do. So shut your mouth.”

It was quite a shock to hear Sykkuno cursed for the first time in almost a year. But it was the shock from his words that made Corpse almost forget about holding back the magnitude of his temper. Those words cut him so deeply, pulling his fears out of his gut, and nearly blinding him with despair and heartbreak. Sykkuno was right, he didn’t know and he wasn’t one of those people.

“That’s the fucking problem!” he roared out. “I don’t know , and you won’t tell me! I might not be an important person in your life, but by God , Sykkuno— you are to me. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m just a guy you’re forced to live with; you’ve never thought of me as a friend, have you? You’re nothing but a selfish prick, a fucking liar!”

“ Enough! ”

The jug on the coffee machine shattered loudly when Sykkuno’s hand bashed through it, unrestrained in his rage. His face was flushed, body shaking from his ire and—sorrow. Oh , Corpse thought with a sudden start, his mind clearing in an instant. I fucked up, again . This time, when Sykkuno tugged on his wrist, he let it go.

The man wasted no time in pushing Corpse away, the force and the shock were enough to send him stumbling a few steps back. “You’re one to talk, huh, Corpse?” Sykkuno said, and it was sad to hear his melodic voice being twisted into something so ugly. “You’ve never told me anything, either. You said you wanted to know me, so I tried to tell you, Jesus fuck did I try . But you? Each time I asked, you ran away, you deflected. I respect your privacy, Corpse. I never snooped around trying to find out about you, even from Lily. I want to hear it from your own mouth, because you’re my friend . You—“

He cut himself off, heaving deep, trembling breaths. And then, to Corpse’s horror, his voice broke into something so vulnerable, so dejected. “You can’t accept me,” he said, soft, stepping back as if he was trying to curl into himself. “You won’t even see me anymore if you knew what I did. I wanted to stay, Corpse. I wanted to be here because you make me happy, and you’ve become someone important to me. But how can I do this anymore, when you’ve rejected me and who I am?”

“Sykkuno,” he called out, trying to get closer. But all Sykkuno did was backing up, away from his reach. “I never said that. Please , I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’ve never—“

“You did,” Sykkuno said, hard and certain. “You told me yourself. Call me a liar if you want, but I’ve always tried to tell you who I am. But don’t—“ he gasped, as if he was trying to hold in the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Corpse could feel his own eyes warming, too. This was all too confusing, and they both hurt each other so much in such a short time. “Don’t lie,” Sykkuno continued, voice small and fragile, “please, don’t lie to me anymore. You don’t need to take back what you said just to please me. If that’s what you think, then I’m going to accept that. But I can’t—“

Sykkuno didn’t continue, pressing the heels of his palm to rub his eyes instead. Corpse felt a sharp pang of guilt when he saw the reddened mark of his fingers on his wrist, the blood that he just now noticed running from Sykkuno’s hand to his arm from his wound. How did it go so wrong? Why did he let his anger get the best of him? How could he fix this?

He stood there in despair, wanting to get closer but knowing it would just drive the man away. His hands were clenching and unclenching, unsure what to do. With a last heaved breath, Sykkuno turned on his heels and left the kitchen. His steps were slow, as if he was walking with lead strapped to his legs. But Corpse couldn’t move, didn’t follow. He didn’t think it’d do them any good if he were to push the issue any further now.

The pieces of broken glass from the coffee jug were scattered on the counter, a reflection of what had shattered between them. There were specks of Sykkuno’s blood clinging on some pieces, and Corpse’s face crumpled as he realized just how bad the fight went. He regretted everything that he said, and thought he didn’t understand what Sykkuno talked about, he knew that part of it was his own mistake. Oh god, oh god, what did he do?

This was something important to Sykkuno, and he just went and mocked him, belittling his work and the people who were important to him. Was he really that immature, to the point of bringing a complete stranger into an argument that initially had nothing to do with them? Sykkuno wasn’t his ; wasn’t his lover, and now he was probably no longer considered to be his friend either.

Was it really worth it? To have a short-lived satisfaction of snapping back and seeing Sykkuno miserable when Corpse did the same thing to him? Was this the way he took care of Sykkuno, the way he wanted to express his feelings? As much as he was hurt, it hurt him even more that he had inflicted the same pain to Sykkuno—whether the one he knew about, or the one that he didn’t understand.

He bit back a sob, feeling vulnerable and so, so lonely. It had been a long time since he last cried, and Corpse remembered now how unpleasant, how painful it was to have a reason to cry. He left the kitchen and the state of mess it was in. He wasn’t in the right mind to tidy it up, and it wasn’t like Sykkuno was going to come out of his room either to say something about it. He probably wouldn’t step out of there as long as Corpse was in the apartment.

For hours, he just lay there in his bed; ignoring Emma’s texts about some memes she found, and Lily’s inquiries about his newest mission. He can worry about that tomorrow, he hoped. If he was needed in the headquarters, the Capo would call without preamble. All he wanted was just to sleep and not think about anything. But he couldn’t. His mind traitorously replaying their fight over and over again, the cruel green-eyed jealousy shrieking its laughter in his ears.

At some point, he realized that he was crying. The warmth of the liquid registering only when a sob was wrenched straight from his gut. He was tired, and he missed Sykkuno so much that he ached all over with the force of it. There was a selfish thought in his head that told him how easy it was back then, before Sykkuno entered his life. But the bigger part of it just kept reminding Corpse, over and over again, how empty his life would be if he were to lose the older man.

He could live his life without Sykkuno. He had done it for years, and he could do it for years to come. Despite his current emotional state, he wasn’t some weak minded teenager who could only whine and cry about things that didn’t go right in his life. But the wound it would leave in his heart would take years to heal, and the scar would always be present to remind him that he had let another good thing slip through his fingers, when he had all the chance in the world to grasp it, when Sykkuno was willing to stay.

He wondered what the man was doing right now. Wondered if he still wanted to be a part of Corpse’s life, whether he still wanted Corpse in his. He probably went back to his work right away. But he looked so exhausted, Corpse hoped he got some rest or something. Maybe—maybe he was packing his things so he could leave first thing in the morning.

When he had calmed down enough, he tried to listen. The apartment was silent, no keyboard clacking or Sykkuno’s frustrated noises. There was barely any sound aside from his own shallow breathing. Maybe the other man really had fallen asleep.

But then, he heard the sound of a door opening, and soft footsteps that went faint. He didn’t hear anything anymore, but Sykkuno didn’t go back to his room after some time, and didn’t go out either. Corpse bit his lip. He didn’t- he wasn’t in the best state of mind to talk about their fight right now. He might even say the wrong thing and trip another landmine, start another quarrel. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. He just—he wanted to see Sykkuno.

So he stepped out of his room, nervous and sick of feeling sad. Sykkuno was in the kitchen, back turned to him. He didn’t seem to have heard Corpse, his hands were moving on the counter. Oh—the broken jug. He was picking the pieces and putting them into a plastic bag, movement slow and stilted. Corpse watched him for a moment. Now that he had seen Sykkuno, he didn’t know what to do anymore. Should he approach him? He wasn’t sure if the man was ready to see him, or if he’d get a punch to the nose.

But then—his breath got caught in his throat when Sykkuno stopped moving, heaving a few loud breaths, before his shoulders trembled all over. There were soft sobs that travelled to Corpse’s ears, even when Sykkuno tried to stifle them. Corpse’s chest ached, he couldn’t stop himself when he walked with soft footsteps to where Sykkuno was. The man who had been so vicious, so dangerous in his wrath, now looked fragile and small. Corpse couldn’t stand the sight of it, the sobs that wracked through his frame.

Sykkuno stiffened when he finally noticed Corpse’s presence, the hand that gently touched his arm. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t turn to face him. At the very least, he didn’t push him away. So Corpse carefully put his arms around Sykkuno, resting his head on the nape of his neck. He didn’t know if this would be enough to tell him that Corpse was here, and he wanted to stay by his side.

It wasn’t until Sykkuno hesitantly lifted his hands away from the shattered glass, and grasped Corpse’s arms. He shuddered, and the tears seemed to start anew. Corpse stood there, pressing closer and holding Sykkuno through it. His own tears slid down his cheeks, seeped into the man’s shirt. In the silence of their cries, he realized that love was a double-edged sword; that as much as it brought happiness to someone, it was also the very same thing that could cut their heart deeper than anything ever could.

He loved him, Corpse thought, and was strangely at peace with the realization.

He couldn’t say that to Sykkuno right now, the extent of his feelings. But he could try to show him how much he cared, how he didn’t want to lose him. Carefully, he pulled back his arms, only to be stopped by Sykkuno’s grip. His shoulders were curling into himself and Corpse thought that he had been so focused on himself that he forgot that Sykkuno could be afraid, too.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, the endearment slipping through his mouth before he could reign it in. They both were exhausted, physically and mentally. He’d allow himself this slip. Besides, Sykkuno didn’t say anything about it either. He wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth.

It took some time for Sykkuno to let go. Once he did, Corpse took a hold of his arms, and gently turned him around to face him properly. He looked bad, really bad. The signs of exhaustion from earlier were even worse now that he had been crying. His usually impeccable makeup now messed up from his tears; Corpse noted in silence at the little scars on the bridge of his nose, his left cheekbone, his lips. They were faded and still partially covered by makeup that probably hadn’t been cleaned since yesterday, but they were no longer as concealed. The worst part, however, were his eyes; they were red-rimmed, and so despairingly broken that Corpse couldn’t help the glide of tears from his own. Love didn’t just hurt him, his love hurt them both. He could still amend this, he told himself.

Before he could say anything, however, Sykkuno beat him to it. “I’m sorry, Corpse,” he croaked out, voice hoarse and laden with tears. “You’re right, I’m such an asshole. I was so awful to you. You don’t- you don’t deserve that. I’ve been so selfish, I only thought about myself and let out my anger on you. I’m so, so sorry.”

He kept repeating that, stuttering in-between his sobs. Corpse couldn’t stand seeing him like this. He drew Sykkuno in, holding on tight in the embrace. Sykkuno’s arms came up to wrap around his middle, the strength spoke of how desperate and shaken he was feeling right now.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, feeling Sykkuno’s grip tightened further. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just—I was jealous and insecure,” no lies. No more lies. “I’m worried about you, a lot, and I’m not really good at expressing what I’m thinking, I ended up just hurting you. I was hurt from your behavior and words, and I lashed out by ridiculing the things that are important to you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. You mean a lot to me, and I’m too immature in handling my fear about losing you.”

He felt the man shake his head. “I did the same thing, too. I was a hycrite- hypopo—I don’t know the word,” Sykkuno said so miserably that it startled a hoarse laugh out of Corpse.

“Hypocrite?” he suggested gently.

“Yeah,” Sykkuno nodded. “I called you a liar. But I realized that I wasn’t very clear in expressing myself. That I didn’t tell you everything, either. That I’m a liar for doing that. It made me feel so bad, that I just accused you of something that you probably don’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Corpse. You must have been really hurt and confused. I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay,” he said, not wanting to see Sykkuno blaming himself anymore. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“Don’t- don’t leave,” the man continued, small and hesitant. “I still want to stay here with you. I still wanna be your friend. I know that I’m wrong, but—I’ll try to make it up to you. Just, please—let me stay?”

Oh my fucking god , Corpse sighed. How was it that every single time he thought he couldn’t fall any further, Sykkuno did something to prove him otherwise. With heart hammering in his chest, he slowly took the mask off of his face and put it on the counter. He didn’t know if this was wise, and there were certainly still a lot of things that he couldn’t tell Sykkuno just yet. But baby steps, he reminded himself. No more lies.

“Baby, Sykkuno, look at me,” he said, pulling back slightly to see the man better. He heard the hitch of breath when Sykkuno realized what was happening. He still felt slightly self-conscious about his face, the scar that cut through his cheek to his mouth. Another one near his ear, on his jugular. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it was him . “I don’t want you to go either. Fuck, I’ve been losing my mind for the past week thinking that you’d bolt out because I pissed you off so bad. That’s- that’s part of the reason why I was so on edge. So—“ he took a deep breath, and tried his best to convey his feelings, now that he was bare, open to be seen in his entirety. “Please, stay.”

Sykkuno didn’t respond immediately, his eyes going from one point to another on his face; cataloguing each new feature he had been presented with. Corpse knew it was a lot to take in, so he let Sykkuno take it at his own pace. He tried to stay still, despite his anxiety when, with trembling fingers, the man reached out to touch his scar. His calloused hand was gentle, curious. He slowly caressed the biggest scar, making Corpse shiver from the touch to the tender flesh. The fingers moved to his cheekbones, the sides of his face, his jaw.

“I did tell you I look scary,” he tried to joke, to calm his own nervous heartbeat.

But Sykkuno didn’t laugh. Instead, to Corpse’s absolute wonder, he looked awed. “You’re—you’re beautiful , Corpse.”

It took the breath out of his lungs. He knew that a lot of people were intimidated by his face, on rare times when he opened his mask. The high-rankers of the Comfy Cartel were just so used to weird shits in their line of work that they didn’t bat an eyelash, only a sliver of surprise here and there. Emma didn’t care about what he thought of his face, she kept telling that he looked pretty enough to be a porn star, if he ever wanted a change of career. She was a good friend, despite her uncanny ability to piss him off.

But to hear it from Sykkuno, with such honest reverence that he could feel from his touch, was something else altogether. He had been so worried, so nervous about revealing himself. And yet, here they were. Sykkuno wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t scared, wasn’t going anywhere. Because he wanted to stay with Corpse.

“Thank you,” Sykkuno then said. “It must be scary, to show me this part of yourself. I- I feel so ashamed that you’re courageous enough to share such an important thing with me, and I haven’t even told you about things that I was meant to tell.”

He cupped the sides of Sykkuno’s face, leaning in to gently place a kiss on his forehead. “Me, too. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I’m just scared of how you’ll react to it.”

The older man laughed a little. “I think you just read my mind. I’ll tell you, but this isn’t the time, yet. I know it sounds, um, clee- shay , but I will tell you. Soon, I think. I just have to wrap up some things first. My… my last project, I failed so badly. I disappointed the whole team. They told me that they were okay with it. They were so nice to me about it, but I feel so bad. It takes a lot of funds and effort for that project, so that’s why I kept practicing and trying so I don’t fail them and myself for the second time. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“Shit,” he said, eyes widening now that he heard the complete story. Or a part of it, anyway. Sykkuno said it himself that he couldn’t tell everything just yet. “Shit, I’m sorry for saying bad things about it. I get it, I do. But this time, let me take care of you along the way, yeah?”

“Yeah,” smiled the other. “Thank you, Corpse. You’ve been so good to me. Uh, is this the appropriate time for the ‘giving you my first unborn child’ mee-mee ? Because I would, if I ever get interested in having one. That’s how nice you are.”

He laughed and relaxed into their embrace, feeling the sense of familiarity and easy companionship returning to the apartment, the scant inches between them. He was suddenly all too aware of how close they were, just how fucking pretty Sykkuno was. He held himself back, however. They had just made up; he didn’t want to complicate shits by springing this so suddenly to Sykkuno. Even the embrace and the simple forehead kiss felt daring enough.

He took Sykkuno’s injured hand, noticing that the blood had dried but the wound was still gaping and tender. “Let’s clean this up first, and then we’ll take care of this mess,” he said, gesturing to the counter.

“And then tacos after?” Sykkuno asked, and Corpse grinned at him—so, so glad he could show him that now. It was almost midnight, but he’d fucking find a taco restaurant even if he had to scour the whole city and the next.

“And then tacos after,” he nodded, guiding Sykkuno to the bathroom to clean his wound. He made quick work of it, taking the first aid kit after they were done. He was used to this; he couldn’t exactly wait around for some medical attention when he was in the middle of a job after all. He cleaned the wound again with saline, and put on some betadine on it, before dressing it up with bandages.

All the while, Sykkuno was watching him with rapt attention. Corpse was aware of it, but he chose to stay silent about it. Maybe he was getting used to the sight of Corpse without his mask. Still, he should have known that Sykkuno’s mouth had a habit of spouting off things that gave him a heart attack.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked, brows scrunching a little as he pinned Corpse on the spot with his eyes. How could he say no to that face? That damned face was going to be the death of him one day, he was sure. “We don’t even have to sleep in your room if you don’t want me to see it, or if you’re uncomfortable sleeping in my room. We can just, like, cuddle on the couch for a while?”

“Uh, no, no, your room is fine,” he replied, trying his best not to appear too disoriented by the request. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of Sykkuno in his bed. His stupid lizard brain would start to conjure inappropriate images about the guy and he didn’t want to scare him off with his off-timing hormones. Besides, it would do him good; Sykkuno’s cold warning to him about entering his room earlier that day wasn’t something that he could forget anytime soon. And if anything, at least he wouldn’t be so nervous about being in Sykkuno’s room now that he was invited. He knew that the sense of danger that Sykkuno had ingrained in that threat was the main source of restlessness on the back of his mind.

Sykkuno beamed at him. Wow, what a fucking sight. Corpse now fully believed that the sun came out of his ass. No other explanation. How else did he look so radiant, so—so damn stunning? No one rocked the exhausted-and-sleep-deprived look better than Sykkuno right now, if he said so himself. And he did say so. Everyone else who said otherwise could shove it.

They cleaned the counter, with Sykkuno looking dejectedly toward his coffee machine and Corpse making a mental note to buy him a new one as soon as possible. At least he wouldn’t be chugging more coffee now. His body needed that reprieve. After they were done, he took out his jacket and wallet, mask hanging from his hand.

“You can change your clothes and rest while I buy the tacos, alright?” he told the man, who perked up at his words.

“Oh, you can take my car,” he said.

That took Corpse aback. “Wait—you drive a car?”

“Yes?” Sykkuno replied, eyes wide and confused. “Why?”

“No, just- I thought you rode a bike or something,” he said, then continued to explain when Sykkuno still looked so perplexed. “That day we met on the lift? You, uh, you got helmet hair. So I thought…”

“Oh!” the other laughed, as if remembering an inside joke. “Yeah, I wear a helmet inside the car.”

“What?” he said, now he was confused. He knew that Sykkuno wasn’t exactly up to the sanity standard, but little things like this still managed to surprise him.

Sykkuno didn’t seem bothered. He just shrugged and walked back to his room, signaling Corpse to follow him. “It’s a habit. I didn’t have eyebrows, you see? So I just put on makeup and wear a helmet. I got them fixed some time ago, but it’s been going on for more than a year. It’s hard to shake it off by now.”

They entered the room and Sykkuno rubbed his neck sheepishly at the state it was in. Corpse didn’t really mind. As he expected, the bed was made, untouched. Sykkuno really didn’t rest, or he just fell asleep on his chair, most probably. There were various things on display, mostly figurines and game hardcopies. But the man had three laptops on another table, along with scatters of USB nearby. There were arrays of plushies as well, though it wasn’t as bad as the living room right now. Sitting on top of his drawer was a helmet, and another one near his computer desk. He imagined Sykkuno wearing them and got hit with flutters of feelings as well as a dash of inappropriate thoughts. Man, he gotta get a grip.

The computer desk was littered with empty cups of coffee and water bottles. And—cigarettes. Huh. He didn’t even know Sykkuno smoked. The man never smelled of tobacco at all. But maybe it was because Corpse mostly found him when either of them were off work, or just waking up in the morning. The rest of the time, Sykkuno could simply wash up and put on some of his colog- nay so the smell would disperse from his body. His window was opened, the reason why the smell of smoke wasn’t the first thing that Corpse noticed.

“I, uh, I’ll clean them up later,” the man said, smiling awkwardly. There was a key dangling from his fingers. “But here! Just push on the button and you’ll know which one it is. It’s black, the number is in the car title.”

He accepted the key, checking the car title in the slip of the holder, and felt his eyes widened when he read the information. “Wait, hold up—I- hold up,” he stuttered, still in disbelief. “You got a Sultan? A fucking MKIII?! Holy shit. I’m too scared to drive it now. What if I scratch it? My paycheck won't be enough for that.”

Sykkuno laughed at his nonsense, already pulling out some clothes from his closet. With a fond smile, Corpse noticed that the hoodie was one of his. No wonder he hadn’t been able to find that one in a while. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “You can borrow my helmet if you’re worried you’re gonna crash or something, though hopefully you won’t. Car crash sucks when you’re the one in the car.”

Seemed that once they were back to their usual flow, and determined to be more open about themselves, Corpse was in for a barrage of one surprise after another. “You’ve been in a car crash ? Sykkuno, what the fuck. What kind of life are you leading, man?”

“A fun one,” the man replied easily, genuinely. Corpse doubted that a car crash would be considered fun, but then again, this man thought that burning video game characters was fun too. He’d take his words for it.

He shook his head repeatedly; maybe Sykkuno’s life wasn’t that far from the usual danger Corpse had in his daily life, after all. If he was this blasé about being in an accident, or seeing someone dying right in front of his eyes. Maybe… things could turn out for the better—more than he expected, anyway.

“Whatever you say, baby,” he said, then froze. It was one thing to let it slip when they both were emotionally vulnerable. But it was another thing altogether to call Sykkuno with that endearment so casually. He shot nervous glances at Sykkuno. “Uh, I mean—sorry, I wasn’t—“

“It’s okay,” Sykkuno said. “I’m used to it. People keep calling me that, and they’re all good people who have helped me a lot. I, um, I’ve come to like it, actually. It just means that people care about me. And- and I’m glad that you- care. About me.”

Corpse ignored the tendrils of jealousy at the fact that Sykkuno was so used to being called that to the point of liking it. Beggars can’t be choosers, he reminded himself. He was lucky enough that he was allowed to call Sykkuno that. Which meant that he could do it again, in their daily life. It was the more important thing, after all. Jealousy could eat his shit.

“Okay,” he said, smiling a little, and feeling warmth bloom in his chest when Sykkuno watched him so intently. He’d have to get used to that—being watched so closely because the man wasn’t used to seeing Corpse’s blatant emotion on his whole face. “I’m gonna be back soon.”

“Be careful!” Sykkuno called as he walked out.

It took him nearly forty minutes to find a taco place that was still open. While he waited for his orders, he texted Sykkuno to assure him that he hadn’t crashed his car yet. They didn’t text often, despite having each other’s numbers. He guessed that both of them were too busy to text when they were working, and Sykkuno’s work seemed to be as time consuming as his. He found that Sykkuno used a lot of emoticons in his texts. Fucking adorable, what the fuck. The man was almost thirty, for fuck’s sake. He had no business being this cute. Corpse would have to sue. He’d call Ludwig—that man was, surprisingly, a lawyer. He’d bring a good case to the court.

He’s too distracting, Your Honor, it’s illegal to have a face that attractive , he imagined in his head, and then laughing to himself when he realized how ridiculous it was. There were a few customers who were also waiting for their orders, and thankfully they were too focused on themselves to notice this weird man laughing by himself.

Sykkuno was lounging on the couch when he came back. He looked nervous, shooting furtive glances toward Corpse as he locked the door. When he stepped closer, he realized why: Sykkuno’s face had been wiped clean from makeup, his scars now in clear view. He didn’t want to make Sykkuno uncomfortable, didn’t want him to think that just because Corpse showed him his face, he had to return the favor.

But this might be something that Sykkuno had wanted to show him even before this night. So Corpse could know him better, all of him. He didn’t know how to say that he was genuinely grateful for this display of trust, so he opted to show him instead.

He put the bag of tacos on the table, pulled down his mask so Sykkuno didn’t have to guess about his reaction. He sat next to the man, giving him a smile that was hesitantly returned. He reached out to touch the scar on Sykkuno’s cheek, mind nearly short-circuiting when he leaned into Corpse’s hand. He swiped his thumb on the ridges where the scar was raised amongst smooth expanses of skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly.

Sykkuno nodded, pressing his cheek to Corpse’s palm once more before straightening up. “Let’s eat so we can sleep soon. I’m dead tired.”

He refrained himself from pointing out that of course Sykkuno was tired; he hadn’t had a proper rest for almost three days, maybe even before that. So he sat next to him and ate the tacos, talking about nothing and everything and smiling the whole time because he missed this. Missed being so close to Sykkuno, hearing his soothing voice and chicken laughter. Missed sitting next to him and looking at the soft slant of his eyes as they talked.

The apartment was no longer as cold as before, with their chatters filling up the spaces in-between. Corpse cleaned the wrappers and empty paper cups as Sykkuno went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “I’ll be in my room after you’re done,” Sykkuno said when he was done, and even something so casually said like that still made Corpse’s gut twisting in a way that wasn’t exactly unpleasant. He was gonna die from all the heart attacks and flutters of feelings that Sykkuno caused before he could even put his early retirement plan into action.

“Hi,” he said after he had brushed his teeth and changed his pants into something more comfortable. He bit back a scream when he saw Sykkuno under his blanket, looking unbearably soft and warm. His eyes were drooping, and he reached out for Corpse the way that he always did when he was addled with sleep. He closed the door behind him, clasping Sykkuno’s hand and nervously got into the bed.

“Get under the blanket, I don’t want it getting stuck if you sleep on top of it,” Sykkuno mumbled, half-whining.

Oh, no, Corpse thought as he slipped under the blanket while his rib cage was in riot from how hard his heart was beating. He didn’t acknowledge it; this was a normal occurrence whenever he was around Sykkuno. One would have thought that his body was used to it by now. But fuck no. This was it, he thought, miserable and so, so happy beyond belief. This was his best moment in life—he had peaked . Nothing could be better than this, he could die peacefully now. Goodbye, world. Sykkuno would inherit all his hoodies and sweaters, and his beloved, meticulous whiteboard that used to adorn this room would go to Emma. Just to piss her off from beyond the living realm.

As soon as he was there, Sykkuno scooted closer and sighing happily when he laid his head on Corpse’s shoulder. He could feel his feet pressing against Sykkuno’s ankle from their height difference. Slowly, carefully, because he might break his poor, overworked heart if he moved too fast, he slipped his hand underneath Sykkuno’s neck to wrap his arm around him. Instead of commenting about it, the man simply pressed even closer. There was no doubt that he could hear how loud Corpse’s heartbeat was.

“Good night, Corpse,” he heard the man mumble into his shirt.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Sykkuno’s head, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “Good night, Sykkuno.”

It was nearly the morning, actually, but Corpse couldn’t give a shit about time right now. With Sykkuno in his arms, the blanket covering them both from cold, the apologies that settled comfortably in his stomach, and the return of their usual banter and touches—Corpse closed his eyes, and slept peacefully for the first time in a long, long week. At ease, holding the man whom he could still come home to.

-

[nutteu]

mama, we all go to hell [Chapter I]

-

[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III]

Sykkuno came knocking at his door with a disarming smile and too many baggage, worming his way into Corpse’s mind in a spiraling confusion of quiet affection and gentle madness. In a life where the scent of blood clung to him like the second skin, Sykkuno offered him a respite in early mornings filled with coffee and sleepy smiles. It was terrifyingly easy to fell in love with this man—even when the world fell apart, Corpse would follow him into the thunderstorm; holding onto his hand as if the madness and danger were solemn promises they carved into their hearts.

[Corpse/Sykkuno; Comfy Cartel + GTA-esque Sykkuno au; published 2021-07-15; total word count: 63,805]

-

It was a race against time the moment Sykkuno stepped into the apartment, shy smiles and too many boxes with questionable contents following behind him.

Lily had called him earlier this week, saying that his cousin-or-something-something was going to live with Corpse in the apartment they had given him. Corpse stayed silent the entire time and tried to convey his thoughts and disappointment through the static line. The apartment wasn’t exactly small, but he just didn’t want to say that he had turned the spare bedroom into his workspace and now he was too lazy to tidy it up. Where the fuck would he hang his movie-esque whiteboard with all the pictures and clippings of his targets, huh, Lily? Emma had taken one look at his so-called workspace and rolled her eyes so hard he feared it wouldn’t come back to the front.

“This is why Toast is disappointed in you,” Emma said, and gave him stacks of documents. It irritated her to no end that he wouldn’t just accept the files in digital form. He reasoned that it was harder to delete digital tracks, she hit his shin with terrifying precision with her thick-soled boots and shot him the most unimpressed look she could muster. “You fucking dramatic son of a bitch.”

Corpse sighed miserably; no one appreciated his dramatics. Although, to be fair he was also a hypocritical asshole in that regard. Emma had no qualm whatsoever in pointing out that a ‘workspace’ containing all the proofs of his job was just the same as creating a huge-ass track. Seeing now that he had to wipe clean his workspace to make room for Lily’s bullshit cousin, he could see the point. Still, his argument stood—why couldn’t anyone just let him be a dramatic son of a bitch with a cheesy, movie-esque workspace? Exactly.

“What kind of menace is he,” he said flatly to the phone.

“He’s a sweet kid, I promise,” Lily said, which didn’t answer his question and wasn’t much of an explanation. And then he heard Toast shouting at her to come back to the table and she hurriedly said goodbye, claiming that she still got important business .

“Important business, my ass,” he grumbled under his breath. He knew they were playing mahjong.

And so, he spent the entire week moping, taking out his target of the week, and cleaning his workspace with misery in every step. In his defense, his workspace looked awesome—menacing, mysterious, and dangerous. It was perfect for his job; Emma was just a jealous gremlin because all her work was contained in a fucking electronic box.

He also made sure to let Lily know how displeased he was about sharing his space with some cousin she had. He didn’t even know if putting two criminals together in one small space was the wisest decision. He took careful time each day leading to the arrival of the cousin to curse out the brat in every language he knew. He practiced the bitchiest glare he could muster since he didn’t want to show his face to the guy. Maybe whip out a gun or two.

When the doorbell rang a week later, Corpse was ready with multiple threats and a concealed gun ready at his disposal. Until he actually opened the door and met the cousin, that was.

“H-hello,” an absolutely gorgeous man at the front door said, an awkward smile and melodious voice destroying Corpse’s previous plan in less than a heartbeat. “Uh, is this—Lily told me I can stay here for a while?”

Corpse was well aware that he was staring blatantly, but it was harder than he thought to snap out of the trance. He quickly took in what he could get from the man, out of habit. Slightly taller than him, lean with wiry muscles, had a painfully guarded body language, couldn’t look Corpse straight in the eye, looked like a fucking fae with his fluffy tufts of hair and soft brown eyes. He would call Lily and shout at her for four hours straight because why the fuck would she put an innocent little lamb with him? Was this some sort of torture, a secret revenge? Was this because he kept her up that one night to talk about their lord and savior, Bingus?

But then again, this was Lily’s cousin. There must have been something about him that was not quite right in the head. Insanity ran in the family, he heard. But aside from several piercing holes on his ears, and the strange stillness he had about him, he couldn’t sense or see anything dangerous. His instincts didn’t flare up the way it usually did in the presence of another predator. This man’s presence was overwhelmingly underwhelming. Even Lily put him on edge with how well she carried the front of the unassuming, harmless girl the first time they met. This man might be doing the same, but either he was an absolute pro at it that he was undetected or Corpse was reading too much into this because he really didn’t radiate any threat whatsoever.

Lily did say that his cousin was a sweet kid, and oh, how it was true. He sighed and stepped back a little to let the man in. Maybe Toast suggested this because he seemed to absolutely hate Corpse’s gut for some reason. An exquisite torture of some sort. He had to keep his job away from this guy, and no doubt behave in the best possible way because Lily would deck him if he didn’t. Hard to be resentful when the guy gave him the sweetest little smile in the history of smiles, though.

“That’s your room,” he said, pointing to his previous workspace. He reigned in a flare of irritation and amusement when the guy’s eyes widened at his voice. They were so round in surprise. Absolutely adorable, 10/10 would put it on the same level with Bingus. Maybe a little bit lower since he was obviously biased.

“Thank you,” the man said, and quickly deposited his suitcase and backpack inside the room.

Corpse peered outside and raised his eyebrows. That was a lot of boxes. “You want some help?” he said, tilting his head to the direction of the boxes, and watched in amusement as the guy’s eyes widened again before a flush and shy smile replaced the awe.

“If you don’t mind,” he said with a little shrug. Oh god, he seemed like a gentle, kind pushover who talked to his plants in the morning. Oh god, Lily would flay Corpse alive if she saw even one strand of hair out of place on this guy.

He tried to banish the miserable thoughts by taking the nearest boxes and stacked two of them on his arms. They were heavier than he thought. What did this guy bring anyway? Bombs? Guns? Collection of plushies? He didn’t seem like an extravagant guy. He dressed in muted, calm color and simple design. He braced his shoulders each time they talked, and he seemed to withdraw into himself whenever he moved. Like he desperately tried to stay as a wallflower so people wouldn’t even notice him in the room. He was doing a terrible job at it, with Corpse at least. The cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his smile were distracting enough as they were. Emma would die laughing if she ever found out he was smitten at the first sight with this sweet boy. No, she definitely would. She would heave in breaths between her laughter with difficulty, and eventually she’d suffocate herself from the lack of oxygen. People had died from laughter before, he read it somewhere on Wikipedia before. He would bury her in the place she hated the most just to be petty.

He didn’t say anything to the guy though, afraid he’d scare him away with his train of thoughts. As soon as all the boxes were safely deposited inside the spare bedroom—his ex-workspace—they both stood around awkwardly, not looking at each other’s eyes. Eventually, the guy couldn’t take it and opened his mouth a few times, closing it again, opened it again, and choked out a, “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”

His voice cracked in the middle of it and Corpse unsuccessfully stifled his surprised chuckle. He wasn’t usually this juvenile in his humor, but today was full of surprises at it seemed. The guy looked away, embarrassed, so Corpse straightened himself and pretended that he was an upstanding citizen with a good moral compass. Unfortunately, his upstanding moral standing decided that being an asshole was the way to go. “What’s yours?” he asked back, complete with a raised eyebrow and amusement that he couldn’t conceal in his eyes.

The guy frowned a little, but it was quickly smoothened out in less than a second. If Corpse wasn’t so trained, he probably wouldn’t notice it. He had impressive control of his face muscles, it seemed. “Uh, Sykkuno.”

That was a codename. He knew something must be up with this guy. “Cool name,” he said, because he didn’t judge. He willingly called himself Corpse, after all.

The guy rubbed the back of his neck, mulling over something for a second. “I don’t use my real name anymore,” he said then, and there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice.

Corpse backed the fuck off from the dangerous territory. Lily was a dangerous woman when she wanted to be. Prying into Sykkuno’s personal life was a step closer to Corpse’s head hung on the gallows. He nodded, because he understood the sentiment. “Hey, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything if you’re not comfortable with it. I don’t use my real name either.”

Sykkuno peered at him from beneath his fringe. He assessed Corpse for a moment, before nodding, a small smile already back on his lips. “What’s yours then?”

He considered lying. Sykkuno didn’t look, and feel, like someone who worked in the same vein that Corpse and Lily did. But there was always a possibility that he had heard of him. Although to find out about his name, Sykkuno had to be pretty engaged with the higher ladder in the underground scene—which was an unlikely possibility at this moment. Besides, the whole Cartel called him Corpse and this was Lily’s cousin; she probably told him already.

No, it was a lie. It was just hard to not immediately answer with the truth in the face of Sykkuno’s seeking eyes. He felt like he might be weighed down by the guilt if Sykkuno found out he was lying since the get go and gave him a disappointed face. Which was ridiculous since Corpse protected himself from prying eyes either by lying or killing.

He sighed. He read too much into this. “I’m Corpse,” he said, because Sykkuno probably would think that he was some sort of edgelord instead of an enforcer who did dirty jobs for the Cartel.

Sykkuno blinked several times, disbelief in his face as Corpse as expected. He didn’t say anything about it however. A sweet kid, indeed. “Okay,” he said instead, and extended his hand with a pretty smile that reminded Corpse of a sunny morning without work. “It’s nice to meet you, Corpse.”

He took the hand a tad slower, surprised at finding the calluses on Sykkuno’s palm and how firm his grip was. The handshake was warm and brief. Corpse nodded at him, “Likewise, Sykkuno.”

Sykkuno gave him one last smile and loosened the grip to pull his hand back. Corpse still felt the rough palm against his own, the feel of slender fingers between his. They went back to standing awkwardly in the room, and Corpse thought he wasn’t capable of being this painfully awkward anymore around strangers. Generally, he just stood there and looked murderous.

“Do you, uh,” he started, already thinking that it was a foolish idea. “Do you want some help with unpacking too?”

Sykkuno looked surprised, a little bit pleased, but he shook his head nonetheless. “It’s okay, I can do it. Thank you for offering, though, Corpse.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head several times in slow motion as he started to back up towards the door. He looked very much like he was trying to run away from embarrassment. Of course Sykkuno would like to unpack things himself. They met for all of ten minutes, and these were his private belongings. He wouldn’t want a stranger like Corpse to sift through them. “Yeah, uh. I’ll be—I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

“Okay, Corpse,” Sykkuno said, a gentle smile on his face that washed over Corpse’s embarrassment for being so bold. He seemed genuine enough in his reassurance that he didn’t feel too bad about it.

He nodded one last time, hovered a few seconds longer, before giving Sykkuno an awkward smile that he then realized the guy couldn’t see anyway, and very calmly walked out of the room. The door closed behind him softly, a click of lock, and Corpse heaved out a deep sigh. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and started texting away to Lily.

You won, I apologize for constantly rambling about Bingus to you. Please, take him back.

Lily replied a few seconds later. She was probably waiting for his text. He could hear her ringing laughter from miles away. The sadist only replied to him with a smiley face. He went to his room and flopped on his bed face first. Not only that he had to put up with his awesome workspace being removed, he now also had to live with someone who could make him all flustered and awkward like he hadn’t been for years . If he got out of this alive, he would make sure to worship the very ground Lily walked on. If he didn’t—well, Sykkuno’s gentle smile was more than enough to make up for it, at the very least.

-

Sykkuno, as he expected, was painfully, painfully polite and endlessly kind and Corpse was about to scream on the top of his lungs or just jump out of the kitchen window. He tried his best to make small talks with Corpse, although he stuttered and stumbled between his words. He didn’t pry when Corpse didn’t elaborate on some answers, and was terrifyingly good at reading the atmosphere and Corpse’s body language that he went back to entertaining the possibility that Sykkuno was sent by Lily just for the sole purpose of torturing him. Corpse was horrified to find out that he responded so quickly to Sykkuno the way he never did to other people.

Was it the pretty eyes? Was it the cheekbones, he wondered? Or was it just the fact that Corpse was a pathetic guy whose social circle consisted exclusively of assholes and crackheads with too much power on their hands. So to have someone on the extreme end of the spectrum was messing pretty hard with his head. Not to mention how fucking pretty and adorable Sykkuno was—bundled up in his sweaters and waddling around the apartment when he wasn’t holed up in his room. He seemed to be more comfortable in clothes that covered him entirely, because that one time Corpse came home and saw Sykkuno with a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time, he squeaked and nearly fell from his chair. He figured that Sykkuno was self-conscious about his body, and averted his eyes, greeted him quickly and went into his room with his heart pounding harder than when he was breaking people’s necks an hour ago.

And so, because of that, Corpse now started to knock on the front door, of his own apartment for fuck’s sake. He prayed to whichever god that still listened that Emma would never, ever find out about this, or Corpse would be haunted by her gremlin laughter for the rest of his life. Emma would raze him to the ground and Corpse could do nothing but accept it because he was weak to cute boys with soft brown eyes and pretty smiles, it seemed. Oh, how the turns have tabled.

Sykkuno worked as a programmer, it turned out. He got this whole setup that one time Corpse peeked into his room when he asked if Sykkuno wanted some tacos. He wanted to stall just so he could see the entirety of the room, since the man never let him in after the first time. But then Sykkuno grinned so adorably and nodded with such enthusiasm that every thought that wasn’t providing as much tacos as possible for him flew out of his mind just like that one businesswoman that he threw out of her fancy apartment window on the twentieth floor. Both his sanity and the businesswoman commiserated in their gruesome, horrible death.

When he wasn’t working on his computer, or his laptop on the rare time he brought his work to the living room, he played games. Corpse heard him talking alone in his room, occasionally laughing, and screaming at whatever was on his screen. He wanted to be annoyed, because Sykkuno tended to be noisy when he was playing games, most probably since he was wearing earphones and didn’t know how loud he was. But he just couldn’t . He was endeared by the laughter, by the surprised and panicked shouts, and the way Sykkuno pronounced people’s names and some things wrong. He pronounced cologne as colog-nay and fuck if that wasn’t the most weirdly adorable shit Corpse had ever heard in his life.

He went out sometimes. On some days he didn’t go home, and Corpse would sigh and definitely didn’t mope around the apartment because Sykkuno wasn’t there to talk about whatever mundane things he had in mind that day. Or just him watching the television studiously while Corpse tried very hard not to stare. Sykkuno had this almost blank stare when he was focused on something and it painted a different picture than he usually looked like. He looked older, firmer, someone who was on the same caliber as Lily. He wasn’t as guarded, legs sprawling and arm loosely draped on his thigh. He looked more at ease and Corpse wondered if this was how he looked in the privacy of his own room.

In all honesty, Corpse would always put the possibility that Sykkuno wasn’t who he said he was on the back of his mind. Hard not to be constantly vigilant with his kind of work, even if he was more relaxed around Sykkuno than he thought he would be. Even he didn’t loosen his guards around Emma as quickly as he did with this man—but to be fair, that was because they started trading insults from the moment they met and Corpse found out that Emma was as capable to be an enforcer as she was a specialist.

And yet, despite the suspicion, nothing Sykkuno did seemed to be less than genuine. He smiled with his whole body, covered his mouth whenever he laughed, talked to Corpse with a voice so soft and full of consideration. He didn’t understand what Corpse was talking about most of the time, because apparently Sykkuno might be a tech-wiz but he was also an old man who didn’t catch up with the trend. It was always hilarious to hear him saying things he didn’t quite understand out loud just to accommodate Corpse’s lingo. He laughed himself sick that time Sykkuno said, “Oh, it’s uh- pog , as the youngsters say nowadays.”

Sykkuno was only five years older than him, almost in his thirties but he wasn’t that old yet. But he spoke like a ninety-five-year-old or something with the way he tested new words on his tongue and stiffly tried to use them on every opportunity he could the first two weeks he learned about them. Corpse was, once again, endeared. He tried to teach him every single ridiculous thing he found on the internet, and patiently trained him into the psychedelic world of gen z humor. So far, he didn’t succeed quite as much, but Sykkuno’s confused laughter was more than enough for him. Besides, he got to discover that Sykkuno actually had a pretty dark sense of humor even if he apologized profusely right after he made the joke. It was both alarming and hilarious. He might unearth the gremlin deep inside Sykkuno’s fragile bones one day. Corpse just hoped that Emma didn’t meet this pretty man and whisked him away on the journey of the Gremlin’s Great Destiny.

They hadn’t even lived together for longer than three months and Corpse can pretty much conclude that he was fucked. He tried to bribe Lily into moving either him or Sykkuno out of the apartment, but she just raised her delicate eyebrows at him.

“You don’t mean that,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” Corpse replied instantly, nodding and looking miserable all the same. He wanted Sykkuno to stay there forever, but then again he was going to lose his mind if he had to deal with anymore gentle smiles in the morning and lovingly prepared frozen food that Sykkuno called breakfast.

Lily stared at him for a moment before she started laughing hysterically, right in front of his salad. No, he was literally eating salad and he was pretty sure some of her spit got into it. He wisely pushed the bowl of salad away and sighed, rubbing the bunny mask he usually wore at work. He had never revealed his face to Sykkuno this far, and the man seemed to understand his reluctance to do so. He respected Corpse’s boundaries the way that Corpse accommodated Sykkuno’s own privacy. He was just— so nice . Corpse was going to sob into his spit-flavored salad in the next thirty seconds if Lily didn’t stop laughing at his woes.

“Oh, Corpse,” Lily crooned in her sweet voice. “Oh, you’re down so bad,” she said, and faltered into her laughter once again.

Corpse would personally lead a riot against her one of these days. He could, but after careful consideration of Sykkuno’s feelings, good payment, secure job place, comfortable accommodation, and Michael Reeves, he decided to withhold the plan for the unforeseeable future. Instead, he flopped his head onto the wooden table; the ear of his mask flopping sadly with him.

“I can’t stand him,” he said, and meant it in the best way possible. Or, the worst possible ways for his heart since he was suffering .

“He’s too much for your cold, rotten heart?” Lily teased.

“He’s gonna run screaming and call me a creep if he found out I was thoroughly charmed since the start,” he said, injecting as much sadness into his voice as possible. “Or that I want to hold his hand while we watch movies, or serenade his terrible clothing style.”

“You’re right, that’s kinda creepy considering you’ve lived with him only for a short amount of time this far,” the Capo said, not unkindly. “But he won’t run away. Not immediately, at least. Take it slow, he’ll only bolt away if you rush it.”

Corpse lifted his head to stare at her lovely face. “You say that as if he’ll like me back. I don’t even know if he’s into guys.”

Lily smiled then. Something gentle, something Corpse couldn’t quite figure out. “Do you?”

“Do I what? To which question are you referring to?”

“Both,” she shrugged.

He thought about it. It really was quite rushed of him to claim that he liked Sykkuno. He was charmed, yes. But what if that was only temporary infatuation because Sykkuno was a breath of fresh air to his bloody nighttime activities? He did like him enough as a housemate and someone to talk to.

In the end, he just settled with, “Maybe, and not really. Never thought about it until Sykkuno, I guess.”

And he didn’t lie, either. There was just something about Sykkuno’s personality and mannerism that drove him mad with urges to hug or hold his hand. He was just a ball of sunshine in Corpse’s deliberately edgy life, and he wanted to pet Sykkuno’s hair until he fell asleep on his lap. He didn’t really think about liking someone since he never got the time. Between building a cult of Bingus Follower, working on his music, and killing people left and right, he didn’t quite have the opportunity to consider anything more romantic than finding the most appealing person in the club and taking them to a hotel for a quick fuck.

“Besides,” he continued, “it’ll be bad if he’s involved with me anyways.”

Lily leaned back on her chair, tilting her head side to side as if she was considering something. “He’s my cousin. He’ll be guaranteed safety even if he’s involved.”

Yeah, that was one thing he wanted to know too. “He’s not in the Cartel?”

“Mm, not quite,” she said noncommittally. That wasn’t a fucking answer and she was deflecting. Corpse was right in keeping his possibilities open about Sykkuno. “But he doesn’t know about your identity here. Even if you’re stupid enough to introduce yourself with your codename.”

Lily had lectured him long and thoroughly about it, just to give him shits than actual reprimand. Because he knew that if Sykkuno didn’t know about him, then it was pretty safe to do it as long as he didn’t give him the full alias. There were a lot of people who called themselves weird names, Sykkuno himself included. He also had a sinking feeling that Sykkuno saw him more as a rebellious teenager than an actual adult, and it made Corpse’s name excusable in his eyes. Hard to argue when they contrasted so starkly in their behavior. At least when they were in the house. He had no idea how Sykkuno was around his own friends, at his workplace.

“You’re so vindictive,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“It runs in the family,” Lily said, then smiled ominously. “So beware.”

He sat straighter at that. “What,” he said. “What does that mean?”

Lily stood up and grinned like a witch at him. “Go choke some people for me, Corpse,” she said instead, and left him a stack of folders on the table.

He stared at her retreating back, feeling a creeping sense of horror on his spine. “What the fuck does that mean?!” he said out loud to no one, just the tiniest bit hysterical. Oh god, oh fuck, he was about to be found dead in his own bed by Sykkuno’s pretty, calloused fingers.

Which was how he found himself putting Sykkuno under intense scrutiny for the next two months, searching for any sign of gremlin-like quality. He noticed then that once he got past the shyness, Sykkuno spoke fluent sarcasm and beautifully concealed insults. It went hand in hand with his aforementioned taste in humor, and Corpse was just equally excited as he was horrified to see Sykkuno saying the most damning shit at the weirdest time, with a completely straight face, that he then soothed over with apologies and nervous smiles. He must have been really good at poker, with his wildly jumping emotions.

For the most part, Sykkuno endured Corpse watching him like a hawk. He just sat there with a polite, confused expression on his face when they happened to be in the same room, and Corpse tried his best to bore holes into the side of Sykkuno’s head. Maybe if he stared long enough, he’d find out what mysteries he hid beneath his fluffy tufts.

Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Because all he could garner was that Sykkuno looked even prettier up close. He wore thin makeup, and he was ridiculously good at shaping his eyebrows. He didn’t ask why Sykkuno wore makeup all the time inside the house, even so early in the morning. Corpse put on eyeliner and painted his nails because he liked the way they looked on him. He assumed Sykkuno’s reasoning would be along the same vein. If it wasn’t, then it was still not his motherfucking business. Just because Corpse wanted to know more about him, didn’t mean that he’d overstep his boundaries without consent.

He got Sykkuno to play card games with him, and learned that he was simultaneously amazing and shitty at it. He trolled around and didn’t focus on the actual game, but he managed to wipe the floor with Corpse’s ass anyway. Sometimes he did the strangest shits that could jeopardize his victory, and claimed that it was all part of his ‘genius strategy’. When it did work, though, he looked just as surprised as Corpse was—every single time.

“Jesus!” he laughed, covering his mouth as his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook. “It works! It actually works! I’m a genius, Corpse!”

And Corpse would be trapped in the trance of watching Sykkuno again, smiling automatically as the man rode out the last bouts of his laughter. He definitely didn’t want to play betting poker with him, though. This man was far too lucky and wildly unpredictable. Maybe this was what lay underneath his shy, gentle persona. Someone who was insane enough to live with the fact that his cousin was part of the most feared mafia family in town, who agreed to live with a stranger that may or may not be a killer, who doubled so confidently when the cards he was dealt with were horribly bad—and still won. Maybe it wasn’t something so sinister as opposed to a bone-deep, easy going mindset that made him open to even the weirdest things imaginable.

Corpse was definitely reading too much into this. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was someone who could be a polite, gentle fae and the wildest jester at the same time, and that it doesn’t necessarily have to be traced back to the Cartel. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was terribly easy to like, and that was alright. There was no need for a concrete reason why he felt that way, he should just learn to feel it.

He once screamed at Emma when they had a mission together, when they were chased by the enforcement of their target and Corpse took her hand to jump through the tenth floor.

“You’re fucking crazy!” Emma screeched, hysterical and angry. “We’re gonna die, you absolute, first rate idiot!”

Corpse barricaded the door behind them, and they skidded to a halt near the window. “Shut the fuck up! We won’t. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean ‘ I’m not sure ’?!” she shouted, gun at the ready while a violent ruckus was heard behind them. Despite her complaint, she still allowed Corpse to pull her onto the ledge.

It was dark down there, and Emma was gripping his arm with sharp nails. “On three,” he said, and jumped immediately no later than the word ‘one’ could leave her lips.

“We’re gonna die!” she repeated, unbelievably ugly when the wind messed up her impeccable hair. “This is the fucking tenth floor!”

“I’m living dangerously!” he shouted back, and laughed freely when Emma’s eyes bulged out in a nasty glare.

“I’ll fucking kill you if we survive! Corpse, you stupid jerk!” she shrieked, clutching at him so tight as they freefall through the dark of the night.

They, of course, survived. There was a pool down below, Corpse remembered that. He just didn’t know if the trajectory would plunge them into the water, or straight to the side of the pool and splat themselves into a pulp. Emma gave him a black eye when he told her that afterwards.

Despite his claim that night with Emma, however, developing feelings for Sykkuno felt even more dangerous than any mission he had ever done, more dangerous than gambling away his life on a freefall. But maybe exactly because of that, he found himself not doing anything to stop the velocity of the fall once it started. He couldn’t see anything down there, how long he was going to fall, if he was going to land safely or shattered into pieces, but he was willing to take the gamble once again.

At the end of the two-month long scrutiny, Sykkuno finally smiled at him and asked, “What are you doing, Corpse?”

He didn’t quite know how to answer that. Not because he didn’t understand what he was referring to, but because Sykkuno looked unbelievably soft in the harsh kitchen light and he couldn’t be expected to have the full capacity of his common sense up and running in front of that . His brain just decided that it was going to permanently turn into a pathetic pile of mush in Sykkuno’s presence. He nearly said, “Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” complete with totally suave expression, and the suggestive eyebrow lift. But it was fucking creepy now that he thought about that.

So, he settled with honesty instead. “Trying to get to know you,” he said, sounding ridiculous now that it was already out in the open air. Who the fuck tried to get to know someone by staring at them like they were about to plan some murder? Not Corpse, absolutely.

Sykkuno didn’t laugh however, he just nodded and passed over the plate of grilled cheese to Corpse. “Alright,” he said, placating and frustratingly agreeable. “Next time you can actually ask, you know?”

“Oh,” Corpse breathed out. He didn’t know what he expected beforehand. Maybe some screaming and fear and Sykkuno’s express request to get the fuck outta the apartment. But not an easy acceptance that made his stomach tie up in knots, and something dangerous flutter in the crib of his chest. He was going to go find Emma and tell her to stab his eyes or something. “Oh- yeah, yeah. I- okay? I mean, thank you.”

The man chuckled and nodded. He sat in front of Corpse, talking about finally sending his plants to the apartment. And Corpse felt ridiculously pleased that his initial assessment that Sykkuno would be the type to have plants, talk to them lovingly each morning, and treat them like an extension of his life, was right. He wondered if that would make him even more smitten to this unbelievable man, or just straight up make Corpse google how to be a plant, with pictures and detailed instruction—no hack, no roots.

He hesitated for a moment, testing words inside his mind, before he finally managed to say, “So… what’s your favorite bird?”

Sykkuno blinked a few times, before he laughed. The laughter was warm, kinda sounded like a chicken, but it was pleasant to hear nonetheless. He thought that Lily was right—but of course she was. Sykkuno wasn’t going to run away, and Corpse could still do this. He could take it slow, he could allow himself to be as dramatically whipped to this guy as possible, because that was just his life right now. It wasn’t a bad life, though.

-

Despite his religious belief in frozen and fast food, Sykkuno was meticulously selective when it came to his coffee. He had this fancy brewer that he treated with such care that Corpse sometimes glared at it in Sykkuno’s absence, a whole selection of coffee beans, along with annoyingly good cream and sugar to boot. The man was the type of cliché that could not operate properly in the morning without his second cup of coffee. Corpse actually didn’t know how he lived as long as he did considering his diet and caffeine intake. He would flit about in the kitchen several times a day to make coffee, and then take the whole jug to his room on most nights. Sykkuno was living even more dangerously than Corpse was. He didn’t know whether he should be in awe or fear for the man’s health.

Corpse had never eaten in front of him, but Sykkuno never seemed to be bothered that he was the only one eating even if they both were at the table. He still made Corpse his share of food and made him coffee that admittedly tasted like the embodiment of heaven. It was really fortunate that Sykkuno was never present when Corpse drank his coffee, because he would just witness Corpse nearly sobbing from the absolute wonder of it. On some occasions, he would admit to crooning and whispering compliments to his cup of coffee.

There was something soothing about watching Sykkuno preparing his coffee, only half-awake and still warm from sleep. His lips would be in this perpetual pout as he grumbled under his breath about something too low to be heard. His long fingers were moving with precision and familiarity around the kitchen; selecting whichever bean struck him fancy that morning, pouring it into the grinder, rotating the handle with practiced ease. He poured in the exact amount of ground coffee and water for four cups of coffee—one for Corpse and three for him—and flopped to the table as he waited for the brewer to finish.

“Do you think it’s illegal to chase a police car and accuse them of robbing a bank as the ultimate Uno reverse card?” he asked one morning, hiding his yawn in the crook of his arm.

Corpse absolutely didn’t want to know if that was a genuinely hypothetical question, something from his games, or just his own experience. None of the options would give any illusion of sanity to Sykkuno’s inquiry, however. That was another thing that Corpse learned to accept; that as much as Corpse said weird shit out loud, Sykkuno would say even weirder shit when he least expected it. There was one time he just came home, only to be immediately welcomed by Sykkuno shouting ‘ She’s a kid! Beat her up! ’ from inside his room.

“I think it’s an absolutely pog move,” he replied, and smiled from behind his mask when Sykkuno’s eyes lit up as he recognized the word. “But maybe bring a megaphone so you don’t have to scream constantly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sykkuno said warmly, “thanks, Corpse.”

They had lived together for more than six months then. His infatuation was persistent and Corpse had woken Emma up at two in the morning on her day off to hyperventilate about his feelings.

“Oh god ,” he sobbed, and he could hear Emma rustling on the other side, imagining her immediately snapping to attention and ready for an abrupt emergency situation. He had to admit, this wasn’t the emergency she was probably thinking about, but this was an emergency alright. He should have called 911 along, in case he didn’t make it through the memory of Sykkuno’s absolutely, devastatingly adorable laugh that he forgot to cover one time.

“Corpse?” she asked, fear and worry starting to climb into her voice. “Corpse, what happened?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, mourning his peaceful life and last shred of sanity that went down the drain this evening. Sykkuno was hurriedly leaving for an emergency meeting, and he took one of Corpse’s hoodies from the stack of clean clothes on the hamper. He just realized when he finished putting it on, and noticed that it was bigger than his usual size. Corpse just stood there, a deer in headlights as his head was blaring sirens, while Sykkuno apologized profusely. When he was about to take it off, however, Corpse’s stupid lizard brain decided to kick in and he blurted out, “Don’t. It looks good on you.”

Despite his earlier statement of being almost late, Sykkuno sure took his sweet time standing there, face dusted with pretty blush and gaping a little. Corpse swallowed with difficulty, screaming terror inside his head. Oh fuck, was he too bold? Was that too creepy? Sykkuno used his mug sometimes so this shouldn’t be that different right? Right?

He was about to kneel on Sykkuno’s feet and ask for forgiveness, and to please not tell Lily about this because she’d give him shit about it non-stop. Maybe he’d move to the countryside and be a farmer, name himself Crops and chase kids off his lawn, wallowing in his embarrassment and regret over his chronic crush and how it made him even more impulsively creepy. There was no helping him anymore, he was doomed.

“I can’t—Emma, I can’t,” he said, voice rough and full of emotions. Gods, he hoped Sykkuno’s pillow would always be cold on both sides. The man deserved it for being an angel.

Because instead of looking at Corpse with absolute disgust, he just smiled so, so prettily and said, “Thanks, Corpse. I’ll see you later, okay? Bye-bye!” and was gone before Corpse could snap out of the impromptu coma Sykkuno had sent him into. He was left staring at the pile of fresh laundry, despairingly whipped and about to find a list of Sykkuno’s enemies because Corpse was committed now.

“He—“ he sighed, then got choked up in his feelings. “He’s too much, Emma. I can’t. What the fuck do I do now? He’s killing me.”

“What?!” There was more rustling, and he heard the clack of her boots. She must be putting them on. What a nice little gremlin. “ Where are you? Are you hurt? Did they intrude your house?”

“Oh, he can intrude my room just fine, alright,” he said, because he’d allow it. Sykkuno can intrude his bed just fine if he wants to. “I’m wounded, Emma. I don’t think I can recover. I’m dying.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. He could see suspicion starting to form in Emma’s head. “Corpse, what the fuck are you on about? Are you dying or not? Who the fuck are you talking about? If you keep talking nonsense, I will go there and shoot your head open.”

“Why are you so violent?” he whined. “Sykkuno is never violent with me. Except for the part where he’s killing me. With his smiles, his laughter—oh god, Emma, he looks fucking cute when he laughs, he sounds like he’s about to lose it everytime, too. I can’t stand this anymore, I’m in agony .”

“What,” she said, flatly. Then, she grunted and Corpse could almost hear the gears clicking into place. “You disgusting liar, you disgraceful cockroach —is this about your housemate ?! Oh my fucking god. And here I am, about to care for your annoying ass.”

“Hey! I’m a delight, according to Sykkuno,” he protested. “And I don’t lie!” he said, feigning hurt. “I can’t do this anymore. Fuck, Emma, he looked perfect in my clothes, I’m five seconds away from crying.”

“God, save me from dramatic bitches and their crushes,” she growled. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, feeling confident. And then less confident because Emma was an absolute menace when she was pissed off. Maybe he shouldn’t aggravate her so much. “Seriously, I don’t know what the fuck I should do. Lily said to take it slow, so I did. But he’s not getting any hints.”

“Is it Sykkuno who’s not getting any hints, or is it you who can’t give proper hints because you’re a constipated asshole when it comes to romance?” she guessed correctly, not giving him even a sliver of mercy.

“Fuck you,” he said, because Emma was always right. “It’s not like I’ve ever dated anyone.”

“Exactly,” she sighed. “You’re shit at this. He’s probably wondering why you’re staring at him like a creep and constipating whenever you try to flirt with him.”

Sykkuno was indeed a sweet kid, just like what Lily said. But he was also dense as fuck. And he did have to admit that he wasn’t doing a good job at flirting with him. All he did was swoon over Sykkuno, stare at him like he hung the moon, ask him about his day, give him stuttered compliments whenever Sykkuno’s insecurities slipped into the conversation, and give him whatever he wanted even if he only mentioned it once. Now that he thought about it, what with his brooding demeanor and rough voice and sharp eyes, it probably didn’t come across the way he wanted it to be. Easy to misunderstand his intention when Corpse looked exactly every part of a killer, and Sykkuno was too kind and shy to even comprehend that someone was trying to woo him.

He sighed, and Emma sighed with him. “I’m fucked.”

“Well, if that’s your preference,” Emma replied easily. “I can’t believe I fucking woke up for this. I was so ready to defend your life, bitch.”

“I don’t wanna live anymore,” he said, sighing again for the thousandth time that night. “I just wanna shrivel up and be Sykkuno’s coffee brewer. Or his plants. Whichever. He loves them so much, I think he’s gonna go feral if someone touches them. I don’t think I mind seeing him like that. It’ll be absolutely glorious, except that he’s also gonna be distressed and I don’t want that.”

There was a light thump as Emma was likely lying back to her bed, regretting her life choices that led her into befriending Corpse. “You’re pathetic,” she told him gently. “Buy him some plants or coffee beans. Take him out for lunch or dinner. Actually compliment him properly instead of screaming about how cute he is inside your head. Don’t die before you can profess your undying love, and if you call me in the middle of the night for this fucking bullshit again, I’ll start a manhunt for your soul.”

He listened and believed every single one of her threats, mostly because she was capable of carrying them out. “Wow, I will kill the president for you.”

“I can do that myself, but thanks,” he could hear the smile in her voice now. “I still think your ‘workspace’ is shit.”

“Fuck you. Heartless bitch.”

But he took her suggestion to heart. When Sykkuno was back, looking tired and satisfied, a glint in his eyes that for some reason made Corpse’s instinct flare to life, he greeted him and asked if he wanted something for breakfast. Corpse couldn’t cook for shit. Sykkuno was only slightly better at it. But there was the wonder of takeout and online delivery.

“Mm,” the man sighed, comfortably snuggling into the couch with one of his plushies. That was another thing Corpse got right. Sykkuno had plushies, a whole barrage of them. He didn’t see it himself, but Sykkuno showed him pictures of his collection, and some of them had migrated into the living room as well. “Maybe some waffles. A lot of whipped cream, strawberries? We can order from the coffee shop nearby. Uh, some coffee?”

“You mean three cups of coffee?” he teased, but whipped out his phone to order some waffles anyway. He stopped then. “Do you wanna order some coffee or do you wanna make some?”

Sykkuno flopped—there was no other word to describe it, he just slowly, lazily flopped onto his stomach like a boneless seal—and smiled softly at him. Like he was deciding something, and it pleased him a lot. It sent a pleasant jolt to Corpse’s chest. “I was thinking, maybe you can make the coffee?”

Corpse suddenly had an out-of-the-body experience right there and then. He thought back to what he said last night. How Sykkuno probably wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his coffee brewer and plants, and here he was, allowing Corpse to do just that. Was it too soon to pick the rings?

“Oh,” he breathed out. “Okay- okay. Which- which one would you like today?”

They moved to the kitchen, and it was kind of weird to be the one standing over the brewer while Sykkuno sleepily watched him. He was still wearing Corpse’s hoodie, and it wasn’t making the situation any better. He wanted to scream and bite his fist, but he just set to work after making sure he got their address right on the delivery app. He remembered Sykkuno’s movement, and even if his were a lot stiffer and stilted than Sykkuno’s, the man didn’t say anything.

He gave Sykkuno the coffee in his mug, feeling daring and bold. He was committed to this now. No take backs, no cold feet. He waited with nervous anticipation as Sykkuno sipped his hot coffee like it was a cold juice in the middle of a sunny day, wondered how the hell he hadn’t burned his tongue yet, and let out a relieved sigh when the man smiled.

“Too much water,” he said then, and Corpse’s face fell. It must have shown in his eyes, because Sykkuno laughed and reached over to pat his back. “You can practice more.”

Corpse took a second longer to realize what that meant. “You- you’ll let me do it? It might take me a while to get it right, the way you like it.”

Sykkuno shrugged, downing half of his mug with ease. “We have time. Also, I’ll wash your hoodie real quick, okay? Thanks again for lending me this, Corpse.”

He gulped, thought about it, breathed in and out, and thought about it again. In the end, he said, “You can keep it.”

That stopped Sykkuno. He blinked several times, soft eyes suddenly sharp in the early morning light, and Corpse saw the similarity between Lily and Sykkuno. They both had this searching look that made people apprehensive and nervous, as if they could reach into your mind the gentlest way possible, and leave a devastating wreck behind. He stood still, feeling very much like he was glimpsing into the world of another hunter and wondered not for the first time what Lily really meant when she said that Sykkuno wasn’t quite a part of Comfy Cartel. It wasn’t an exact confirmation.

Finally, Sykkuno nodded, a sweet smile already in place and Corpse felt like it was safe to move again. “Okay then. Thank you, Corpse.”

Feeling brave, and maybe exhilarated because he had seen something different than the sweet, gentle Sykkuno, Corpse said, “You can wear any of my clothes, anytime. Or take any of them.”

The man nodded again, and grinned. “Maybe not the underwear, though.”

“Oh- oh, yeah,” he stuttered, horrified to find out that he was about to blush like a teenager. Was it bad that he liked the image of Sykkuno in his clothes, without the underwear, very much? Oh god, he was a teenager. A hormonal teenager. What the fuck. He felt so inappropriate and dirty. Sykkuno just looked so pure and soft, he shouldn’t sully it with his lizard brain.

“What are you thinking?” Sykkuno asked, snapping him out of his daydream.

“The waffles are gonna be fucking soggy when it’s here,” he blurted out.

It startled a laughter out of Sykkuno, spilling some coffee on his chin and on the table, as if that was the last thing he expected from Corpse. It prompted a smile of his own, hidden as it was. Maybe one of these days, he could be comfortable enough to show his face. But right now, he’d just enjoy his morning with Sykkuno and his second cup of coffee, wearing his hoodie, waiting for their inevitably soggy waffles.

It was a peaceful day while the clock was ticking without his knowledge.

-

Corpse had joined the Cartel for nearly a year. He worked alone previously, as a paid grunt. The more he became known throughout the underworld, the more people hired him for specialized works. His work wasn’t refined and meticulous, not in the way Emma’s was, but he was efficient and brutal. It did the job splendidly and he didn’t hear his client complaining. Well, some of them did, but they couldn’t exactly complain anymore if they were dead, could they now?

Lily invited him, and Corpse still remembered the first time they met vividly. There this young woman was, sitting primly with her round glasses and pretty smile. She was small in stature, she put on the appearance of some aspiring new designer with her choice of clothes and hair. She spoke with a voice so soft and kind, and Corpse had never felt so suffocated than when her kind eyes suddenly turned sharp and dangerous as she handed him the card to get into their HQ.

He had heard about the Cartel, of course. It was impossible not to when it was basically the mafia family that had conquered the city in such a quick, brutal grapple of power. They had control over other cities too, and he had heard rumors that one-third of the continent was under their influence. Some said they were originally not from here, that they just came because the next heir to the throne was an ambitious, highly intelligent, and ruthless bastard and he wanted to expand their turf to encompass the whole continent.

Some of the names in the family he recognized from beforehand. Poki was one of the most known intelligence gatherers in the city; if you wanted to know any dirt on anyone, she was the one to go to—with an inappropriately high price, of course. Emma worked with her for a long time, and sometimes Corpse could see the imprint Poki left on one of the few she had under her tutelage. 

Ludwig was a locksmith that claimed that he could ‘unlock any door; no proof left, no suspicion’ and he lived up to that claim. He was a humorous man with the most outrageous words just hiding beneath his tongue. He sometimes worked alongside Poki, because he could unlock people’s secrets as good as he unlocked a vault in a highly guarded casino. Corpse met him sometimes on casinos, and took their meeting as a sign to get his job done as soon as possible because even if Ludwig wasn’t breaking into any vault, he was bound to create some ruckus and while it sometimes served as great distraction, he was also drunk most of the time and would loudly call Corpse for some drink when he noticed—and Ludwig, no matter how inebriated he was, always noticed.

There were a lot of names he had heard of, but had never met personally. Rumors spread around, and most of the time, the rumors were deliberately spread for a certain agenda. He had heard of the atrocity and ambitions of these groups, and from his brief interaction with Lily, and how their reputation had preceded even Corpse’s wildest dream, he had expected something of the highest caliber for the new lords of the underworld.

At first, he did get exactly just what he expected. Toast took one look at him, and Corpse already felt like he was being taken apart from the inside. It was only years of experience that made him stand his ground and calm his breathing lest they smelled fear in him, and he’d be torn to pieces then. They told him they had heard of him, too; that they could use his expertise in the Cartel. They offered him more than anyone had ever done. Under the mounting pressure and intimidation that filled every corner of the room, and essentially everything that he could have possibly hope for in his line of work—security, good payment, organized job, crazy powerful people that could make his life exhilarating—he took Toast’s carefully offered hand, and bore the mark of the Cartel a few months later.

Comfy Cartel was everything he had ever heard of, and even more dangerous, even more splendidly chaotic—in the best and worst possible way. They were highly organized and brutally efficient, with top notch individuals on the high rank, and Don Scarra and Toast as the heads of the family. He quickly caught on that the heir he had heard so much of was the very same man that had greeted him the first time he went to their HQ. He could see how the cartel could expand so much in so little time.

Toast was, simply put, terrifying . He was easily one of the most dangerous people Corpse had ever met, and he had met quite a lot. It wasn’t in the physical sense, though he was fantastic with guns, but it was the way he thought, the way he analyzed and planned everything down to the last detail. He could predict where and when to strike, knew how to read people like an open book, knew how to taunt and to pressure them, and he was almost always right in his decision and prediction. He understood how people operated, and that was one of the scariest things that someone could have in their repertoire. He was the puppeteer with a lot of strings across the continent.

Toast was one of the Capos, and he didn’t really interact with him a lot. Corpse was an enforcer after all, he was pretty low on the ladder. He had his own handler, but for some reason, he kept answering to Lily. Maybe it was because she was the one who found him; he never asked, it wasn’t a wise thing to do. So, he did his job, came back to the HQ for some reports with the stench of blood still on his nose, and fingers not quite clean from red yet. They paid him good, gave him a place to stay after they deemed he was worthy of it, and even if there were people who still tried to fuck with him, rumors of his involvement with the Cartel more or less did its job.

People had always been afraid of him, mostly left him alone at bars or casinos. But there were always idiots who came to make trouble, thinking he was an easy pick because he didn’t have any affiliation. He didn’t exactly need the protection of the name, but he could admit that it wasn’t a bad thing. Less idiots approached him nowadays, and Corpse briefly thought that having Comfy Cartel on his back was akin to having a very effective bug repellant. Some still slipped through, however, but Corpse was more than capable of squishing mere bugs under his boots.

He had participated in a few gang fights in his early days. The longer he was there, the more Lily assigned him to highly dangerous missions, and on some occasions, even brought him to a meeting that he knew would inevitably end in a showdown. Lily wasn’t involved in any of them, and Corpse rarely saw any of the higher ranks fight, but he had seen enough. They were people who could survive even on their own, had made a name for themselves before they were chosen into the Cartel, and they could very well kill someone when they had to.

“If his left eye twitches, kill the woman next to him,” Toast told him in one of the meetings. “If he says ‘as if’ more than three times, kill everyone in the room. He got a certain habit and pattern to his speech that alludes to what he’s planning. If he did the second, immediately call for Michael.”

It turned out that Toast already had several spies in the gang’s ranks and had them planted some bombs inside. It was a very loud way of asserting his dominance, and to create even bigger paranoia amongst the gangs in the city. Plant the bomb, plant the seed of doubt; they would be headless chickens trying to find the moles in their ranks, and while it didn’t show much externally, it was enough to weaken them at several points.

“When you know precisely where to strike, you’ll just have to sit back and enjoy the terror in their eyes,” Toast said, smiling calmly as he crossed his legs and waited for the other party to show up.

As the negotiation went on, Corpse was almost pissed that Toast was right. There went the left eye twitch, and the woman was bleeding on the table even before she could pull the safety off the gun. The man was screaming and threatening Toast of violating the agreement of no weapon. But his guards fell to the ground, along with several thumps from outside. Everyone he brought was dead now.

Toast inspected his nails. He had very nice nails. “Did I, now?” he said, and lifted the woman’s corpse slightly to show the gun still on her hold. “Or... did you?”

They got him to sign some documents, and Corpse followed Toast out after they were done. The man, however, was detained by some guys. He looked back to the guy; were they going to kill him? Wasn’t that a bad move now?

“Not yet,” Toast said, as if reading his thoughts. “Our medical team will give him some… ah, parting gifts.”

It meant that they’d plant a chip and an explosive in him; constant surveillance as well as a quick precaution. Not to mention a good way to shake the gang if he were to be detonated right in the middle of his own people. Corpse had heard that it was Michael Reeves’ idea, the strange Capo whose division consisted only of him and a robot dog. He was the genius behind the quick territory expansion, as well as their technology. He was also batshit insane and made the most dangerous, highly unstable inventions that may or may not explode in their own gang members’ faces. He didn’t seem to particularly care about whose side was the victim, as long as someone got to explode from his tech. His inventions also gave a whole new definition to torture, and honestly, Corpse was just kinda happy that he got more variations to work with now.

So, yes, Comfy Cartel lived up to every single one of the rumors and his expectations. Except, for one, horribly humongous catch: they were all fucking crazy.

It wasn’t even the kind of crazy that made people tremble in fear—although they did that too. It was just the fact that these people were so well-respected and feared, very good at doing their jobs, and they were a bunch of monsters who were capable of taking the continent by storm. But on the other hand, they were just—just a whole bunch of fucking idiots . Highly trained criminals, too, but still. Fucking idiots, all of them.

Toast once showed up to a negotiation wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, when the other gang was outraged, he just flapped his hand and went, “It’s not like I don’t know you’re planning to sabotage us. I just wanna say hi before I go on my sweet vacation. Adios bitchachos.” And then he told the enforcers to kill everyone on sight.

Or, the other time Lily played the piano, and Corpse listened attentively while he nursed his wine. Most of the other higher-ups were there; apparently Corpse was allowed to be there because Lily liked him enough. It started out beautiful and melodious, before Lily just went to town with the notes and startled Corpse out of his trance. In less than three seconds, she had started spouting shit like ‘fucking morons who can’t do their jobs right’ and ‘I want to crack their skulls opeeeen’, and everyone was listening without even batting an eyelash. Michael was jamming to it. When Lily started screaming ‘fuck this shit I’m done !’ with her whole chest, Toast wipe an imaginary tear and lifted his glass in solidarity. Corpse could never see her piano performance the same way ever again.

Most of his traumatic experience came from Michael Reeves, as expected. That man looked like a twelve-year-old child, and seemed to be as unhinged as one. Aside from the previous horrors told about him, Corpse could never forget the day he walked in on Michael considering his robot dog with such intensity, it scared him. And rightfully so, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was: “I’ll upgrade this shit so it can pee beer.” Corpse was always wary about any beer offered to him by any of the Capos after the upgrade was done.

Another thing Michael liked to do aside from upgrading his robot dog into an abomination was tazing Lily with every tool imaginable—a lightsaber, a spoon, an intricate tazing chair that looked like a torture chair, by her own piano, everything . The more he climbed up the ladder, the more the higher ranks favored him, the more he witnessed Lily’s shrill screaming whenever Michael ambushed him with whatever taser invention he got his hands on. It would be followed by Lily’s utterly tired, full of disappointed ‘ Michael… ’ while she sighed like she got a particularly wild dog biting her leg for the thirtieth time this month.

The higher ranks were also a fan of avoiding their responsibilities of going into meetings and negotiations with people they didn’t like, and instead set a mahjong table and played beer pong with outrageous bets on the table. Brodin had fantastically inappropriate suggestions for punishments and bet ideas beneath his calm, collected exterior. Corpse later found out that Scarra downed vodka like it was mere water, and he was fucking scary when he was drunk and angry. “Somebody’s going to be abused tonight,” Toast sighed, and flipped open his mahjong tiles. It sounded so wrong and ominous that Corpse slowly inched out of the room and went back home to repaint his nails.

If he thought that most of their antics were kept in the safety of their HQ, he was dead wrong. The first time Corpse saw Michael actually went along on a mission, he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe he just wanted to see if his inventions were working right; a field observation, so to speak. He should have known it was something fishy when Lily was there too, along with Toast and Poki. He finally found out why Michael was there when all the Capos just went to the balcony of the meeting place, and he fucking pulled out a bazooka out of nowhere and started firing fireworks out of it.

Corpse avoided what must be a very nasty left hook and had to get a grip on himself. If he didn’t focus, he was going to get himself killed tonight with a firework in the background. It was fucking hard to do just that when these—these crazy bastards were out there, whistling and shouting like a bunch of high schoolers on a field trip. Yeah, fine, the fireworks were the shit and Corpse had to admit he did stop and stare for a second because they looked so dope, but still . Lily was leaning against Michael when a firework shot and the shape of their family’s insignia was seen. “This is so romantic,” Lily said, while Corpse shot someone’s head open.

Toast, the very same man with terrible reputations and the apparent heir to the seat of Don of Comfy Cartel, just grinned and said, “We need some beer and mahjong.”

“We should bring some next time,” Poki replied, and Corpse wanted to tear his hair out because why the fuck would there be a next time?!

It didn’t just stop there, of course it didn’t. Corpse had come to expect the path with the least sanity when it came to these people. As soon as they were out of the building, cars ready for their getaway, Michael pulled out a detonator from his pocket, the unholiest grin on his youthful face. Before Corpse could even prepare himself, he hit the button with such happiness that it was hard to comprehend that he just blew a whole fucking building, and nearly killed them all if they weren’t far enough from the site. As it was, they just stood back and watched as even more fireworks shot out of the explosion.

He was the picture of unabashed glee and insanity when he turned back to them and spoke with such conviction: “I’m a genius .”

Corpse needed time to recover from that one. Not because of the explosion, since they were all at a safe distance from the exploding building, but because of the realization that hit him like a fuckton of angry bulls, unavoidable and could no longer be dismissed—these people were a bunch of crackheads parading around as criminals.

“ Oh my god ,” Corpse choked out in the privacy of his apartment, free from the insanity that awaited him in the HQ. He couldn’t believe that he, along with the whole fucking continent, was tricked into believing that the Comfy Cartel was this organization to be feared, while the very same people were dancing around in pa’u and doing a horrible imitation of hula dance right under their nose. He was never going to be the same after this. He needed some therapy, a fifty-year vacation, and a fucking refund of his respect because these morons deserved none of it. They had lied to him several times about being busy, and then had the gall to wave at him when he caught them playing strip poker .

He needed to lie down and rethink his life choices. Maybe he should just resign and start a new life, get himself a new alias, actually focus on making music, be a streamer or something. He heard it was the rave these days. He was sure the internet would eat up his edgy, dark aesthetic. Or maybe just turn 180 and get into some paranormal shits, exorcise people for fun or something. Or just sign up with fucking NASA and explore space, maybe meet some aliens on the way. He didn’t know, all these ideas sounded insane and yet they made sense to him now. Maybe the insanity had rubbed off on him. Oh god .

Maybe the cosmic realization broke his brain or something, because try as he might, Corpse still ended up being roped into their crazy antics. As a result, he was less formal with them, and started doing weird shit without fear of his head being cut off in an instant. It took less than a month for Emma and Lily to start calling him an edgelord, and Corpse had no reservation in introducing Bingus to anyone that he had tricked into listening. The crazy really was contagious.

“Stop with the bullshit,” Emma deadpanned. “You’re already bonker in the head to start with. You just hide it better. These people had no inhibition in their DNA.”

Which wasn’t wrong, every part of it. The Comfy Cartel was still the most feared mafia family, and Corpse knew they could make his life a living hell with a flick of their hand. But then again, he also knew that Michael made a pool of fucking disgusting slime that they threw at each other, and there was always going to be a grenade inside one of the secret Santa gifts. The fact that he got so used to it was both horrifying and hilarious. Emma was right. The crazy recognized each other, after all. Maybe that was the actual reason Lily hired him. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case.

The knowledge that they were essentially a bunch of twelve-year-olds still didn’t make them any less dangerous, however. It didn’t soften the fact that they were also individuals who had done numerous atrocities, and Corpse was a part of them. Somehow, it made something like pride and loyalty bloom in his chest. These people were crazy fucks, but they treated people who were loyal to them right, and they still had the time to be exciting and hilarious at the same time. Granted, most of the time their humor involved someone else dying or something exploding, but Corpse hadn’t had this kind of fun in years .

He was more or less welcomed to mingle with the high rankers, he still did his job with excellent efficiency and precision, and he was allowed to see things that he knew people in his rank wouldn’t be allowed to see without having their own eyes gouged out with a spoon. Most probably by their own hands while Michael watched, and Lily watched Michael with a Disappointed™ sigh.

Today, however, he might have witnessed something that he wasn’t allowed to yet. Or ever, if Toast had any say in it.

Toast had always been easygoing, with sarcastic quips and inappropriate humor ready under the sharp eyes and insane reflexes. But he was also very unforgiving and every single inch a heartless bastard that had won them miles and miles of territories. Corpse didn’t know why, and when exactly it started, but he noticed that sometimes Toast looked at him with something undecipherable. Something that raised the hair on the back of his neck, and switched his fight-or-flight instinct to life. He wouldn’t say anything, and Corpse wouldn’t move, staying still until Toast blinked and carried on as if nothing happened.

More than once, Corpse had thought that maybe he did something that pissed Toast off. But if that was the case, then he would be long dead already. Still, it made him even more aware that Toast sometimes did something just to make his life more difficult, intentionally. Like telling Michael to give Corpse hot pink guns that in no way would be concealed from enemies’ eyes; or sending Corpse to babysitting missions where he had to sit and listen for hours and hours to young, spoiled heirs and their associates complaining about their miserable life; or, on a more sinister tone, deliberately sending Corpse into difficult missions with people that Toast knew didn’t get along well with him. He was pretty sure that in some of those instances, Toast was entertaining the possibility of Corpse not coming back alive.

He didn’t ask. Because as much as he was familiar with these people now, how much their antics exasperated him, how lenient they were with his own antics, these weren’t his friends and these were still the monsters who could eat him alive. It was never a wise decision to ask something that had no concrete proof, especially to a higher rank.

Tonight, he got a glimpse of confirmation that while it wasn’t hatred that Toast had for Corpse, there was definitely something that he was pissed off about and Corpse was involved unknowingly.

The meeting room was generally used by the Capos, but since Corpse had more or less wormed his way into the ranks unintentionally, he was there several times. There was a lounge just outside of it, and Lily was walking ahead of him, steering left to a table and a stack of documents on it. The door to the meeting room was half ajar, and inside, Toast was sitting where Scarra usually sat. There was someone else with him, sitting at the table with his back to Corpse. Mussed black hair, teal shirt that he rolled up to the elbow; there was a helmet on the table.

He was talking animatedly to Toast, arms flailing around to likely emphasize his points; he was too far to properly hear what the man was saying. But something about it was faintly familiar to Corpse. He didn’t really delve into it, far too distracted that Toast let someone sit at the meeting table like it was something normal. Maybe it was normal for the two of them, because as much as they did crazy shit, they had always been appropriate in the meeting room; like it was a sacred place where they put their responsibilities and loyalty to the family on display. It was a place where none of their mundane insanity came out. And yet here the man was, sitting in front of Toast, on the very same table they had gathered on twice every month, the set of his broad shoulders relaxed and looking very much like he was at home. Like he was someone who could get away with anything, and would still be adored by the king. By Toast.

“Corpse?” Lily called out, loudly, bringing him back to attention. She looked annoyed, as if she had been calling his name several times beforehand, snapping her fingers in front of him.

Corpse, Toast, and the mysterious man heard her voice now. The man tried to turn his head to see the commotion, and Toast’s hand quickly prevented him from doing that. He stood up, said something to the man that he nodded to, face gentle and indulging. His face hardened as he walked to the door, however; eyes sharp and looking like he was about to shoot Corpse right there with the way his gaze burned .

Toast didn’t murder him, but Corpse realized that it was a close thing. He closed the door behind him instead. Corpse swallowed, realization coming clear and blinding inside his head. Toast didn’t hate him, not exactly. But he was pissed off at Corpse. There was- there was envy in his eyes, on the lines of his face. He was… jealous of Corpse? Why? He couldn’t even begin to comprehend that thought. So he turned to Lily, face helpless and confused.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked, voice rough and unsteady. The intensity of Toast’s stare left him more than a little bit shaken.

Lily sighed. “Right. I forgot he’s coming here today. Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention to that. That’s Yuno.”

Corpse’s brain came to a halt. “Yuno? As in, the Yuno Sykk?” he asked, eyebrows climbing higher and higher the more he thought about it. There was no way …

Lily sighed again, deeper this time, as if she had expected that reaction. “Yes, that Yuno Sykk.”

It took him a moment to realize that his mouth was gaping open, face unguarded in his shock and admiration. Lily rolled her eyes heavenwards and muttered something he couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in his ears. That was Yuno Sykk? The infamous criminal who had been going on a rampage on Los Santos these past two years? The very same man who took the city by his chaotic hands in a storm that they couldn’t help but getting lost in? The man who rose up through the ranks of criminals in that city out of nowhere with his impossible heists and absolutely crazy stunts on the streets? That Yuno Sykk ? 

“Holy shit…” Corpse exhaled shakily, giddy and terrified all in the same breath. He felt like his legs were going to collapse from under him, all the memories of hearing the news and reading the details of the man’s quirkily confusing crimes made his head spin. That man had a long, long list of crimes just in the span of two years, and there were rumors going around that he had even more history before that. Apparently, he remembered with a hysterical laugh, Yuno decided on a fucking whim that he’d start robbing banks. Just like that, like it was something one decided so lightly over a bowl of cereal, like it was that easy , so why wouldn’t he?

Except that his heists were notoriously difficult in technicalities. There were people and gangs who had tried to pull the same feats and they didn’t finish it as smoothly as Yuno and his chosen affiliates did. One of Corpse’s acquaintances in Los Santos swore up and down that the man did it in record time, with terrifying ease—like it was natural, like he—a nobody that no one knew a day before—was built for it and could do nothing better than this. He was the new guy in town that somehow became one of the best, if not the best, hackers amongst all the big names. From mouth to mouth reports, the man was crazy enough to make people fear him, but also strangely nice and soft-spoken and kept repeating that he did all of those because it was fun , because he wanted to buy food , because it turned out to be not as scary as he thought. It was mind boggling; the way he spoke of the heists as if they were nothing more than a fun hang-out with friends. With a lot more danger and nigh impossible stunts involved.

“Oh no,” Lily moaned out, walking to the couch on the lounge without waiting for Corpse. “He’s one of those .”

“What,” Corpse said, snapped out of his admittedly fanboy daydream and hurriedly followed her. “What do you mean by one of those ? You said that as if it’s some kind of disease,” he sniffled, plastering his most offended face because Lily shot him a disgusted look as soon as he sat in front of her.

“Let me guess, you’re one of his, ugh , fans? Admirers? Crazy stalkers who followed every single one of his crime reports like he’s the second coming of Jesus? Yeah. Those ,” she clarified, enunciating the last word like it was a personal offense to her. Maybe it was. Judging from her reaction, she looked like she had multiple unwanted experiences with Yuno’s… enthusiasts.

Corpse felt a pang of guilt and smiled awkwardly behind his mask, lowering his eyes and accepting her accusations. Mainly because it was true. Though, he deserved some break, alright? Yuno Sykk was a well-known figure in the underworld; he sat on the throne so suddenly that everyone was startled by it. Some begrudgingly admitted their respect, some straight up despised him, and a lot of people were just in a daze of some sort. Corpse included.

He briefly wondered which one of those categories Toast was in. Yuno and he seemed… close. If the sight he just witnessed was any indication. For a moment, all thoughts of Yuno were moved aside in favor of reanalyzing Toast’s behavior. This didn’t explain anything about the way Toast sometimes regarded him, but if anything, he seemed painfully protective of the man to the point of considering a cold-blooded murder just because Corpse happened to catch a glimpse of them.

It befuddled him, and didn’t help him understand Toast, or any of this at all. Corpse knew that obsessing over it would just lead to his lifeless body on the bottom of the river. He kinda couldn’t help it. He had a habit of obsessing over things that made him itch with a bone deep feeling of restlessness. Sykkuno was the prime example of this. Though restlessness was not the only feeling that Sykkuno incited in him.

Happiness, nervousness, something soft that made Corpse want to sit quietly in their kitchen listening to him talk about that one leaf on his plant. Something fragile and dangerous that had taken a root inside of his veins; something that he wasn’t willing to let go the more he spent time perfecting Sykkuno’s precious morning coffee, laughing about stupid shows, being allowed to look into Sykkuno’s eyes as he gave Corpse a smile that felt like a secret, a caress so gentle to his heart.

“Well,” he started, shrugging in a way that he hoped came off as nonchalant. Judging from the narrowing of Lily’s eyes, he didn’t quite succeed in doing so. “He’s uh… something.”

She looked like she was about to chew Corpse’s ears off, but then she just sighed and flipped open one of the folders. “Yeah. He is alright.”

The talk went straight to business from there, and Corpse tried his best to memorize the layout of the place Lily wanted him to stake out for an operation the next month. Three months from now, there was a mission waiting for him in Los Santos. He had done some jobs there, and they weren’t particularly interesting or Important with a capital ‘I’ or anything. But he couldn’t deny that his heart skipped a beat when his mind went back to Yuno Sykk and the way he was inappropriately relaxed in the presence of one of the most influential figures in the underworld. He had never thought of approaching the man in his missions, because why would he? A job would require his undivided focus until it was done, and besides, they were on a completely different lane. Their preferred specialty in crimes had never necessitated them crossing their paths with each other.  But the thought of a possibility that they might meet in Los Santos still made something twist in his gut.

“Corpse?” Lily called when they were about to part ways. She looked less severe than she was a moment ago when she explained each assignment in detail. But there was a look in her eyes, one that shaped her face into one of hesitancy and resignation. He couldn’t understand why she would look like that.

“Yeah?” he replied warily.

“It’s better if you hear this from me,” Lily started, and Corpse stood up straighter in apprehension. “Yuno isn’t tied to the Family the way I, or you, or Toast is. He works exclusively under Toast and him only. I don’t think I need to warn you about the risk of talking about this with Toast. You might already know that Yuno has his own affiliates in Los Santos, but his affiliation with the Comfy Cartel is only known by no more than a handful of people.”

He nodded, understanding where this conversation was going. Moments like this reminded him that the Cartel was still a mafia family with a frightening reputation, one that took over the cities with iron fists and no mercy. This was a family built by highly skilled individuals who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone or even an entire gang to establish their power. Corpse, more than anyone, had witnessed and understood completely how dangerous it was to invite the ire of any of them. Specifically, Toast—no, especially Toast.

Don Scarra had his own reputation, and by rights people should fear the man who led these people as the head of the family. But everyone knew that Toast was the biggest force of the Cartel, and was well on his way to be the next in line. He wasn’t the strongest, wasn’t the most powerful, wasn’t the top of the food chain. But people feared him because they knew he could control all the players on the board and they wouldn’t even know whether they did something out of their own volition, or because Toast willed it to be. The uncertainty, the paranoia, the extreme pressure and sense of disorientation he managed to instill in every single person he met were the reasons why Toast would always, always have the upper hand in any situation he landed himself in. It was scary to think that someone could know and understand you so well to the point of pulling your strings like you were a mere puppet. The lack of freedom and sense of control would make anyone boneless with dread.

“I like you, Corpse,” Lily continued, smiling a little and patting his arm lightly. “I trust that you will be loyal to this Family. This is why I’m telling you all of this. Yuno is Toast’s black knight; unpredictable, vicious, insane enough to pull any mission Toast gave to him. We didn’t expand to Los Santos because that city is Toast’s gift to him—his playground, where he can do anything he wants, on his own terms.”

In his own terms , Corpse repeated in his mind. Yuno was a man that Toast valued enough to not control, to let him do as he pleased without any of his strings restricting his freedom. Coming from someone like Toast, it was something so enviable, something that no one was allowed to have. Not even the Cartel was an exclusion from Toast’s clever masterminding, maybe even more so because they were his Family.

Corpse had his own fair share of experience in the underworld, and he had made a name for himself here. He wasn’t a man who would tremble in fear in the face of imminent danger or death. But even he understood enough that the consequences of being on Toast’s bad side would be a worse fate than death. It made his breath stutter and his head numb from calculating numerous horrid instances that the man could inflict on him if he ever wished so.

“I need you to keep this information from everyone. Everyone , Corpse. Even people from our Family. Whether they already knew or not, you still don’t talk about this to them. No one can know the ties between Yuno Sykk and Comfy Cartel, or more specifically, the relationship between Yuno and Toast. Do you understand?” Lily said, stepping closer with determination in her eyes. And that, that was another thing Corpse couldn’t understand the reason why. There was something he missed, a piece of information that made Lily act like this, one that he was most probably not allowed to know.

“I understand,” he said solemnly.

Lily nodded, looking relieved for something that Corpse knew wasn’t his concession. He hesitated a bit, mulling over in his head whether he should say it or not. Saying it might land him in trouble and doubt of his understanding of his position as someone in the lower rank. But if he didn’t… it’d eat him alive at night.

“But…” he said, voice small and confused. “If- if I may ask, why- why me? Why bother telling me all this if this is so important?”

The Capo regarded him for a moment, then she smiled gently. “Aside from not wanting you to ask around about this and risk getting in serious trouble, I do admit I have my own selfish reason.”

“And… that is?”

“You’ll see for yourself, Corpse,” she said, already turning away from him. “If you’re unlucky enough, that is. Or maybe it’s the other way around, who knows?””

Despite the way she said it lightly, and the small friendly wave she threw his way before she disappeared around the corner, her last sentence made Corpse shiver in apprehension. It sounded like a bad omen, a storm on the horizon that he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape from.

He glanced at the closed door of the meeting room. He didn’t know whether Toast and Yuno Sykk were still in there. The meeting room had another hidden exit, after all. Toast was the one who told him about it, but Corpse knew that he was told not because the man trusted him, but because it was a test and a threat. There were only a handful of people who knew about the exit, and if anything happened, they would know who could possibly be the perpetrator amongst the small pool of the secret keepers.

He heaved out a deep breath, dizzy from the onslaught of information and revelations. He couldn’t let them get to him, or he’d be off his game and risk getting himself killed because he was distracted. He didn’t know how exactly he should act around Toast now, since he didn’t know how the man would act either. Toast’s gaze was still at the forefront of his mind, and he turned away from the lounge with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation that fluttered restlessly in his lungs.

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