Archive of Our Own

But standing here now, you saw that the profile and voice were nothing like the young man in front of you. He looked to be about your age, or at the very least in his twenties. Okay, now you still wanted to meet his parents to see who he got his genes from. But that’s a bit weird, isn’t it? You shook the thought away, and politely said hello back and that it was nice to finally meet him. “You too. Come on in.”

“Wow, this is really nice!” you exclaimed, and Corpse gave you a look that said he noticed how surprised you’d sounded. “I’m sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly, “You didn’t really have a lot of good pictures online and it seemed kind of sketchy. I was mostly wondering if I was going to end up dead. But this is great!” It was really great, even if it was ‘manly’.

By ‘manly’, – though there was no intention of making this sexist, this was just the best way you could describe it – you meant that it was all a bit empty. The walls were all white, except for one grey one on the side of the kitchen, the furniture was simplistic and dark without any carpet to cover the pale laminate flooring. No pictures, no paintings, no accessories. “How long have you lived here for?”

He shrugged, “Like, three years.”

Oh.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea? I’d offer soda but I don’t really have any.”

“Tea’s good,” you replied. Tea was always a gamble, because you had to wait for it to cool down to be able to drink it and only when drank you could leave. Those are the rules of tea. However, for some reason your gut told you it was fine, and you felt utmost comfortable around this stranger.

He turned on the kettle, and got a mug out of his kitchen cabinet. Dang, even his tableware was bland. You were gonna have to fix that. Your mismatching array of mugs deserved a special place in a mismatched kitchen. “Do you travel a lot?”

He furrowed his brows and turned back to look at you. “No, why?”

“I don’t want to be rude,” you admitted.

“I don’t care, you can tell me.”

“You don’t really seem to have a lot of… personal things in your apartment.”

He huffed, “Oh, yeah. I’m not really good at decorating. I was hoping to find someone who was.”

“Well, good thing you found me, then.”

He smiled.

 You sat on one side of the corner sofa, and he diagonally across from you on the other side. He had music softly playing on his tv, seemingly a playlist for lo-fi hip-hop. You asked each other a few basic questions; where you were from, what your hobbies were, if you had any pets and if so, if you could bring them with you. It wasn’t until the question of occupation came up that he tensed. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assured, but you weren’t convinced.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you some basic things about the apartment, I just reminded myself.”

“Oh, okay.”

He walked you to the window, showed you were the trash would be picked up and where you could store your bike if you had one. He walked you down to the parking lot and showed you his space, telling you to feel free to park there because he didn’t own a car anyway. He talked to you about the rent, about which neighbours to avoid and how to use the buzzer.

“So, since you’re telling me all of this, I’m presuming we’re going to be roommates?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, isn’t that why you came over?”

“Yes, but usually this feels more like a job interview. You’ve barely asked me anything; not even my references, or qualities and flaws. What if I’m a massive slob?”

He chuckled, “I think you were pretty straightforward already when we’d texted. You seemed like the most honest candidate, and I had a good feeling about you. Besides, I don’t think you could be a bigger slob than me.”

“I think it’s very tidied, actually.”

“That’s because I cleaned before you got here. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“So this is more like a reverse job interview?”

“I guess so,” he laughed, “There’s just one more important thing I need to tell you.”

“All right.”

“Don’t go into that room.” He nodded towards the door to his left, next to the TV. “There’s some work stuff in there that I can’t talk about.”

“Woah. You FBI or something? Or are you going to have to kill me for asking questions?”

He chuckled awkwardly. He did seem genuinely nervous talking about it, but tried shaking it off by playing along. “Nah, you’re fine. It’s just… personal.”

“Is it your play room?”

Corpse suddenly felt himself starting to sweat. “What?”

“Like your X-Box and stuff?”

“I… Uh-“

You let out a laugh, and he felt the tension ooze off his shoulders. “I’m only joking! You don’t know that scene from Fifty Shades?”

“Uh, no. I’ve never seen that movie.”

“Good on you. But I promise I won’t go into your room. As long as you don’t go into mine. Because I will call the police.”

He chuckled, “You’re gonna call the police on your roommate?”

“Hey, I met you online and you just happen to be a guy who wears black clothes, has an incredibly deep voice and tells me I can’t go into a super secretive room. You could be a murderer for all I know.”

“And you’re okay with that as long as I don’t go into your room?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. Everyone has their hobbies.” You both smiled, and already felt at ease knowing you shared at least a similar sense of humour. You’d dealt with roommates before who you just couldn’t click with, and this guy already had a chemistry with you after the first half hour you’d met.

“Anyway, uh, do you want me to show you around?”

You nodded happily. It’s what you came here for, after all.

He showed you his room and except for some clothes strewn across his unmade bed and a few plates and glasses left on the floor, it was tidy enough. Your room was about the same size as his, with a view of the street and the park below. “Didn’t you want this room?” you asked, “It has a much nicer view.” “No, it’s fine. I usually keep the curtains closed.” You left a question linger in the air because you didn’t want to ask it, but he already answered it or you. “I have really bad insomnia, so I just tend to crash whenever I can. You won’t hear from me at night, though, and if you do, just let me know.” “Likewise.”

It seemed you two got along really well already, very respectful of each other’s boundaries and schedules. Apparently, his work was an array of odd hours which he mostly spent in the room you weren’t allowed to enter. This was fine with you, even if you were a bit curious.

Well, a bit curious was an understatement.

You’d done a very good job of keeping your nose in your own business for the first two weeks. But after that, you couldn’t help but sneakily glance at him from the corner of your eye whenever he entered the room you were not allowed to enter. He’d spend hours in there, sometimes an entire day, only emerging from it to take a bathroom break or to get food. From the room that you were not allowed to enter came no noise, which you found strange, to say the least. You tried not to be too obvious about it whenever he opened the door, but did just happen to be lying directly across from it on the couch while reading a book. Or while you were watching tv. Or while eating. Sometimes, ‘napping’.

Of course, he noticed. But never mentioned it.

One day, you found yourself dying of boredom while he’d volunteered to do the groceries if you did the dishes. And of course, you were done earlier than he got back. So, you sat down on the couch, on your usual spot. Across the door to the room you were not allowed to enter. But underneath the door to the room you were not allowed to enter, you saw a sliver of light. Did he accidentally leave them on? Perhaps, you thought to yourself, perhaps it was a good idea to turn the lights off. After all, you also paid for the electricity bill, and if it saved you some money you would definitely turn those lights off in the room you were not allowed to enter. The room you were not allowed to enter always remained unlocked, after all, so who was to say you ever entered anyway?

You rolled the sleeve of your hoodie down over your hand and placed it on the doorknob. Hey, who were you to know if he actually was an FBI-agent? He’d find out. Was this really such a good idea? Oh, well, your hand suddenly spasmed. There was nothing you could do, the door was open.

“The fuck?”

It was an office. That’s all it was. Or a gaming room? He had two monitors and a very nice computer, so you concluded it was for gaming. The walls were covered with grey foam padding, the culprit of the soundproof room. He had a microphone screwed to his desk with a headset hanging on top of it. Why would he be so secretive about this?

You turned around. On the walls were finally the things you’d been looking for when you’d first entered the apartment. Paintings! Or, drawings and paintings. As well as letters. You couldn’t help yourself.

People thanking him for sharing stories, for getting them out of depression and making their lives so much better. People talking about his voice, primarily, and then some more about how they loved him and his YouTube channel. Wait a minute, his YouTube channel?!

He wouldn’t mind, you thought as you took a seat at his desk. He wasn’t an FBI-agent anyway (hopefully), so you decided it was okay to use his computer for a moment.

YouTube

Corpse Husband

3.62 million subscribers

“What are you doing?”

You jumped almost a foot in the air, and flipped around to see the man himself standing in the doorway, still holding the grocery bag.

“I… Uh… I was just…”

You both knew you didn’t have a proper way to get out of this. The damage was already done. So maybe you could try anyway?

“You, uh… You left the light on in the room. I wanted to turn it off to save the energy.”

“Ah, I see.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, until you cleared your throat, turned his computer to sleep mode and switched of the lights as you walked out. He didn’t say anything either as he started unpacking the groceries. He didn’t say anything during the entire time he cooked and you were setting the table.

He only spoke up when your plates were both empty. Well, mostly empty, because you were too nervous to finish yours.

“So, you wanna talk about what happened just there?” he asked.

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I specifically asked you to not go in that room,” he said, his voice gradually raising in agitation, “That’s all I asked of you when you moved in here. I could’ve been an asshole and put you up with chores and have you pay more rent but I didn’t. I asked one thing of you.”

“I’m really sorry.” You wanted to shrink down into the floor, you felt so embarrassed. You never meant to upset him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Know who I was beforehand. Is that why you replied to my ad?”

“No, of course not! I’d never heard of you before. That’s why I was looking it up when you… when you walked in.”

He tried to determine if you were lying or not, and seemingly got his answer from the look on your face. He got up to move the dishes to the sink. You tiptoed after him.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?” you decided to ask.

“I’m a faceless Youtuber. No one knows who I am or what I look like. It was already risky for me to get a roommate, but you seemed oblivious so I thought it was fine.”

“I was oblivious,” you told him truthfully, “And you don’t need to worry. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

He turned around, resting his hands on the counter and leaning back against it. “I’m just supposed to trust you on your word?”

“I think that’s all you’ve got right now.”

His gaze didn’t waver from yours, but he was far away in his thoughts.

“I promise you, Corpse. No one will ever hear it from me. You can kick me out if you want to.”

Then, he finally shook his head. “No, you can stay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. As long as you do the groceries from now on. I fucking hate shopping.”

You snorted and watched a smile appear on his face, the tension in the room immediately dissipating. You playfully hit his arm. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

“Come here.”

He engulfed you in a warm hug, which you happily returned, and all was right in the world again.