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Meeting Corpse in person was the best thing to happen to Sykkuno. He couldn’t help but brag; he felt like he was privy to the world’s greatest gift. And he did get an actual gift! A hand-delivered original— what with it being the first of the merchandise— and the best smelling one.
Okay, that was a little embarrassing to admit. But everyone knows how special it is to have clothing that smells like their favorite person, right? Corpse is a dear friend and his cologne is very nice, okay? It’s like having Corpse over at his house still, hanging out, laughing at his jokes, beating him at UNO (the physical card version!) which was fun so Sykkuno likes to have the reminder, likes to think his home isn’t as quiet as it is.
So no one can blame Sykkuno when he occasionally takes a sudden, deep inhale while wearing the gifted merch, especially when the lobby is missing a certain musically talented youtuber, and if his chat notices the way he burrows further into it while streaming, well, he doesn’t check so hopefully they don’t.
He tells Leslie about it. When she’s late, he teases, “More time to sit in my new hoodie, y’know?” And he does love to just sit in it. It’s a little big... Corpse sized. It’s comfy. Except the only problem is, the more he wears it the less it smells like his best friend. That’s... not a bad thing. The hoodie belongs to Sykkuno now, it’s his, it should smell like him! Except... okay, Sykkuno really likes Corpse’s cologne. Like, really. Maybe he should ask Corpse what it is— no, that’s too— Would that be weird? It’d be weird... right?
But if he decides to sleep in it one night while thinking about the possibility of a next time with Corpse, the idea of never losing this soothing scent because it’s source is laying right beside him... well, that’s no one’s business.
———
And call it karma, maybe, for being so greedy but the next day is... not great. From one thing to another with nothing going his way, the little things pile up too high and topples his good mood out the window. Then it happens.
He’s gone and spilled his drink on Corpse’s sweatshirt while streaming. He scrambles out of his chair, tripping over the many cords of his setup, his earbuds uncomfortably ripped out, to rush it to the washing machine. When he pulls it out of the dryer later, still nice and warm, and throws it on, wrapping himself in it like a fresh burrito, he can’t help himself. He grabs the collar, buries his face in it and breathes deep—
—the smell of his laundry detergent.
Well... it’s disappointing... to say the least.
In this moment he would like nothing more than to have his friend with him, having a good time, instead of... this.
He returns to his stream, sweatshirt baggy around his sagging shoulders, and strains a smile. “Look guys, Corpse’s sweatshirt is saved!” He is actually happy about that though, this is still a special gift and he would have been devastated if his carelessness had ruined it. Chat’s always pretty fast but he sees the majority sending simple yays and messages of relief that he internally shares.
“No stain,” he reassures them, and himself, by grabbing the front to stretch it flat, showing off the design of Corpse’s stain-free online persona. Some people ask him what his secret is to stain removing or comment on the cool design. “—and it’s so warm from the dryer!” He hugs himself to emphasize the coziness. Chat turns envious.
“It doesn’t smell like him anymore though—“ And chat starts flying by so fast he doesn’t bother trying to read any of it for risk of a headache. “U-uhm... it smells like my laundry detergent now. Cause it’s clean!” Chat does not deter from their lightning-fast spam... They’re so easily excitable.
When he puts in his earbuds, deciding to address chat when they calm down again, he can hear his friends mid conversation and Corpse’s voice is a pleasant hum amongst the chatter. It makes the smile on Sykkuno’s face feel easier to bear, at least he can still have this for a couple of hours. He announces his presence with a “Hey everyone! What are we talking about?” and Corpse’s voice immediately addresses him. “Sykkuno, chat’s snitching on you.”
Oh no.
“Wh-what? What are they saying?” Chat! How could you? He glances in their direction but they’re still too busy tripping over each other’s messages to comment on the tragedy that is the now Corpseless smelling sweatshirt.
“That you spilled your gamer juice all over my specially hand-delivered merch. Sykkuno.” He chastises. Rae echoes with a dramatic gasp and her own, “Sykkuno!” as if Sykkuno didn’t feel bad enough. Everyone else sounds like they just died and became ghosts to haunt Sykkuno for his unforgivable crime against comfy merchandise with their unanimous “Ooh,” and Jack singsongs a drawn-out “Sykkunie’s in trouble!”
Sykkuno is mortified that they all know now, but Corpse is teasing, he knows his friend’s voice well enough by now to understand that. Logically, he knows. Emotionally, he’s overwhelmed, but he still manages to crack out a “I-I know... my poor energy drink, wasted—“
Everyone laughs. Good, that makes him feel better, easing the anxiety that inevitably builds in him in these situations. Corpse’s laugh crackles through the call, almost drowned out by the constant loudness of their friend group. He smiles, genuinely this time. He knows the sweatshirt is damage free so now he can break the good news to them too, and they can’t be disappointed in him anymore!
Brooke’s voice drifts from the background asking if Sykkuno’s equipment is okay and he assures her it is, saved by Corpse’s sweatshirt. Dream quips, “Corpse merch: better than Bounty!”
Then Corpse asks, “Do I need to hand-deliver you a new one? I’ll do it.”
Oh Jesus.
He can’t hold back the surprised “Eh?” that slips out of him. Another clip chat can add to their never ending collection of “Sykkuno’s Adorable “Eh” Compilation” videos, or whatever they’re calling them these days. You’re welcome, chat, though you don’t deserve it.
Rae immediately protests, “HE GETS IT HAND-DELIVERED TWICE AND I HAVEN’T GOTTEN IT EVEN ONCE—“
“No, no, that’s okay,” he hurries out. He’d hate to drag Corpse all the way out to his place a second time just cause he can’t take care of the gift he’s been given. “I-I saved it! It’s not stained or anything! I’d never ruin something so special, Corpse, especially from someone as special as you,” and Rae’s shrill yelling dims, only to be replaced by a crescendoing, “awe!” added in volume by Tina. Someone gags. He ignores them.
“The only problem is it doesn’t smell like—“ he almost chokes himself (like he hates himself, ha, get it? Never mind) with how fast he cuts off the rest of that sentence.
Leslie’s no fool, but he will argue, in this moment, that she is rather rude when she says, sounding smug, “ooh, doesn’t smell like what, Sykkuno?” She knows. Of course she knows, cause he told her. Bragged about it, to her!
Shoot. “...L-like, uh, uhh—“
“Or should I say, WHO?” Curse his bragging rights.
“—my energy drink—“ It was strawberry. How awesome would that be?
“A certain someone’s COLOGNE?” She interrupts, hysterically. Everyone’s still, apparently, vengeful ghosts out to get him as their “oohing,” starts up again from beyond the after life. They would make one noisy graveyard. They’re silly. He feels silly. His stomach, evidently hyped from what little caffeine he was able to have, starts doing somersaults.
“...it was a good energy drink.” No one listens to him. It’s important they know how good this drink was, instead of... whatever is happening. He’s a bit dizzy.
Corpse chimes in, sounding serious and meek, “Oh, did it smell when I gave it to you? You should have told me, I could have washed it again.”
That’s the opposite of what Sykkuno would have wanted. “Uh, no, it’s fine— I mean it did smell like you—“
Distantly he hears Jack’s “Can I get my merch hand-delivered Corpse? Y’know, for reasons...”
“—b-but it doesn’t anymore, since I just washed it, y’know, because of... uh,” He trails off. He wishes he had his energy drink still, he’s going to need it if this continues. It was really good. Unlike this conversation.
“That’s good.” Is all Corpse has to say about that. Good.
“No it isn’t!” Hush, Leslie! Corpse just laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh one does when they’re uncomfortable, Sykkuno would know cause he laughs like that a lot. Oh no.
Luckily, they move on from their unfortunate choice of conversation; Toast chiming in with a fun fact, something about how one’s sense of smell is more closely related to memory somehow, to spare Sykkuno of this situation any longer, and it starts a domino effect of memory lane trips.
Eventually they start their chosen game of the evening. Sykkuno’s troubles of the day ease away as they play further into the night but the distinct lack of the warm spice to lull his constant nervous energy makes itself known every time he happens to breathe deep enough to catch a whiff of the cheap lavender that’s replaced it.
———
Sykkuno receives a text in the morning. Well, he received it not long after he finally crashed into bed, which was, technically, in the morning. He has a bad habit of checking his phone first thing after waking up, eyes still bleary and crusty from sleep. He tries to rub both those things from one while using the other to read the words on his screen.
“So, how did my new merch work as a mop? Think it’d sell better if I market it as “big brain solution for all your gamer needs?”
Haha, Corpse is so funny. Sykkuno cringes at the reminder of last nights embarrassing fumble, though. Recorded for all the world to see. Recorded for Corpse to see, even though he already knows, he just heard about it from traitorous chat, but if he watched Sykkuno single clumsy-handedly soiling his gift... Not thinking about that.
“So well! Of course whatever you do would work great, Corpse. I’d buy it!”
To mop his tears whenever he screws up like that again.
“but I don’t yhink you could get it to sell better... seeing as it’s already sold out!”
Then he adds, in a panic, because he does feel bad for almost ruining the high-in-demand merchandise he received for free, with benefits! “I’m very sorry I almost ruined the one you gave me. It won’t happen again!”
To his surprise he gets an almost immediate reply. Corpse really needs to sleep more.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But think about how much faster it would have sold out. Speed run edition.
And it’s okay Sy, accidents happen. Sorry I called you out on it last night, I was just teasing, it’s just a sweatshirt.”
“It’s not just any sweatshirt Corpse, it’s your sweatshirt... er, merchandise, but you gifted this one to me so that makes it special, like I said. It reminds me of you!”
He receives a simple, “Aw, thanks Sykkuno :)”
That smiley face is his heart’s savior. He finds his own face mirroring it. Then Corpse keeps typing, “Hey, what kind of energy drink was it you had? You made it sound good and I think I need one this morning. Last night was fun but I feel like a... corpse.”
Just hilarious.
“The best kind. Somtimes, I can still hear its fizzle...”
Its fizzling all over his sweatshirt. He shoves himself down into said sweatshirt that he’s still wearing, hiding his face from no one but the deep voice of the texts he reads in the privacy of his own head. The weak lavender is not soothing him, as people often claim it should.
“Lol. I can bring you a pack, since you don’t need a new sweatshirt, I can at least offer you a drink. We can chill.
...as much as one chills on the caffeine of drinkable energy.”
Oh Jesus, it’s too early for this. Is it early? He glances at the time in the corner of his too bright screen. 11:30am... It’s early.
“Really? You want to come over again? Today?”
“It doesn’t have to be today if you’re busy.
But if course I want to come over again, I still need to meet BIMBUS!!!
And I think I owe you that drink since my merch decided to drink yours for you. Ha.”
Corpse the comedian.
“I’m not busy! You can meet Bimbus!”
Said dog decides to join him in that moment for morning cuddles. Praise Bimbus for coming in his time of need, his anxiety has decided to go to Six Flags and is riding the roller coaster drop from his heart to the pit of his stomach and loops back.
“Great :)
I’ll be there then. Lunch?”
“You don’t have to! You brought food last time, I’ll order us something!”
They hash out specifics. Doordash brings the food. Corpse brings the energy drinks. And best of all, over the smell of greasy takeout and sweet caffeine, is a subtle sharpness in the air that Sykkuno associates solely with his best friend.
Sykkuno is holding an overly excited bundle of dog as best as he can while Bimbus wiggles an escape attempt, allowing Corpse a moment of peace to safely put the, definitely unhealthy, “meal” down on Sykkuno’s table.
Once his arms are free he immediately crowds Sykkuno’s space to coo at, and pet, Bimbus, sending white fur to possessively attach itself to his black clothes. His clothes don’t have any text on them except, now, an all capital “BIMBUS WAS HERE,” spelt crudely by shedded fur. Sykkuno feels silly again. And his knees go weak as he’s all but assaulted by Corpse’s cologne; it’s sharp scent making his head feel fuzzy. It’s so nice. Praise Bimbus.
He does just that, in a silent thank you to his dog for being so gosh darn cute that Corpse drove hours to come see him again (to see Bimbus) and in an effort to distract himself. He starts rubbing one of his hands over Bimbus’s side while still holding the wiggling dog to the best of his ability, but Corpse is still petting Bimbus too, (Bimbus is the happiest dog in the world right now, his wiggles increase tenfold), and their fingers brush. Sykkuno almost drops Bimbus. Almost. He does not. He would never. He does not need two terrible acts of clumsiness in a row, especially in front of Corpse, both times.
Corpse gives him a wide eyed look and Sykkuno mumbles out a, “he scratched me.” He, gently, sets Bimbus on the ground. Happily oblivious of his near death experience, the dog wiggles the few steps needed to Corpse, because he’s still so close, and greedily demands more attention, which Corpse obliges accompanied by one of his famous giggles. Sykkuno smiles. He always smiles when Corpse laughs.
Corpse looks up at him, half his face is still covered by the mask he wears but Sykkuno can see the giddiness in his eyes. Corpse asks, teasing, “are you smiling?” to which Sykkuno impulsively replies, “of course, cause you’re here,” and it’s the truth.
Corpse ducks his head and laughs some more, Sykkuno giggles along with him, embarrassed at his own honesty. After some more pets Corpse stands and fruitlessly attempts to brush off his newly acquired, decorative dog hair to no avail. The Bimbus badge of approval is stark against the black clothes and it is unfortunate in the most adorable way. Corpse mumbles, “worth it.”
Sykkuno offers a sticky roller, which removes the worst of it, but it’s still quite awful. Sykkuno offers him The Sweatshirt so he can wear something mostly dog fur free (limited time only) thanks to the emergency wash it received the other day, but Corpse denies him. He tried.
They end up on the couch with the intention of playing video games, cause what else, but wind up with the console on, menu music their background noise as they’re distracted by funny videos and memes on their phones. Inevitably, they’re two Alice’s lost to the same rabbit hole.
After who knows how many dog videos and seeing if Bimbus will accomplish any of the tricks they’ve learned about (he doesn’t, but they are so proud of how fast he can wag the nub of his so-called tail, royally dubbed the fastest tail wagger in the wild west by Crops himself), and finally playing two different games, it is much later than it has any right to be. Ignoring the fact they both slept half the day.
Sykkuno realizes they’re practically shoulder to shoulder and he is nearly choking on the sharp scent of cologne. In the best way. Y’know, like the song— okay, okay. It’s not actually that strong, but having that smell so close is making his head spin. It’s layered under dog smell (which is unfortunate cause that means Bimbus needs a bath), overly sweet strawberry caffeine, and greasy food, which does something to Sykkuno. It’s like the smell of all his favorite things has been mixed together in a friend shaped bottle.
He stares at Corpse who’s eyes keep drooping. He looks out the nearest window where the sun bleeds through and paints everything orange and thinks about the hours Corpse still needs to drive home. He thinks about Corpse driving home, driving away. He has a terrible idea.
“Do you... uhm...” it really is a terrible idea.
Corpse pauses the latest video, Jack’s most recent upload, and rests the entirety of his sleepy gaze entirely upon Sykkuno. Shoot. He thinks about not having that gaze on him at all and blunders on,
“I just figured, you have a long drive... You can stay the night. If you want to!” Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
“Oh. That’s nice of you, Sykkuno,” Corpse says, sounding hesitant, “but, ah-,” Oh no, “I didn’t brind any spare clothes or anything.” Oh, right. Well, shoot.
That should be the end of it but the terrible ideas just keep coming, “You can wear the sweatshirt you gave me, since it’s your size anyway!” Terrible ideas all around. “I might have sweatpants that’ll fit...” great, a full matching outfit. Sykkuno feels like he’s wearing his own literal version as the back of his neck dampens from nerves and he wipes his palms on the front of his jeans.
Corpse blinks at him. All slow, like his eyes are resistant to re-opening. The not-real-morse-code spelling out T. I. R. E. D. Corpse really needs to sleep better.
“Oh. I-I guess so, if you’re sure you’re not bothered?”
“Yeah, of course! Not. I mean, I’m not— I’m not bothered!” The idea of Corpse leaving, taking the wonderful smell of his cologne away with him, of going to sleep and waking up alone, in a quiet house, with only his dirty laundry and pile of dishes in the sink to accompany him... that bothers him. Sykkunko’s throat itches.
“I’d hate to intrude, I didn’t plan on staying so late.” With this statement Corpse’s eyes glance away from Sykkuno to check the time. He visibly cringes at the numbers.
“You’re not. Intruding, I mean! You can stay as long as you like!”
Corpse takes a moment to consider this, then relents. “Okay. Thank you, Sykkuno. I like spending time with you, so... that sounds nice.”
Corpse resumes the funny videos. Sykkuno resumes breathing. He is instantly lulled back into the easy lightheadedness of contentment with that settled and the comforting scent of his friend beside him, assuring him the remaining presence of another person, a person that trusts him and wants to stay with him.
Briefly, he wonders what it is about Corpse’s cologne that makes him act this way, that makes him want Corpse to stay so badly. Those thoughts are easily drowned out by their culprit when Corpse leans in closer to see his phone screen better, the weight of his arm coming to rest on the back of the couch behind Sykkuno, practically wrapping him in a bubble of spice and everything nice, and in that moment it just doesn’t matter. What matters is this moment and the fact that come to tomorrow it will just be a memory he’ll need to cherish as they return to being mere voices miles apart.
———
Corpse ends up staying the night and wearing The Sweatshirt. Sykkuno is silently cheering. He can’t remember the last time he’s had a sleep over with a friend, or the last time a friend was over at all— besides his first meet-up with Corpse.
Not yet done hanging out, despite the late hour, they’ve moved to Sykkuno’s bed, which he offered to Corpse but Corpse insisted he not hog it because it’s Sykkuno’s bed and he’s a guest, which is the entire point, but now, somehow, they’re both lounging on it.
It is more comfortable than the couch. He decides he’ll wait until Corpse falls asleep before moving to the living room, so Corpse won’t argue with him again. Cause that will definitely work out and not backfire at all. Both too overcome with sleepiness, they can’t even indulge their shared bad habit of staring at their screens before bed, instead just chatting about nothing in particular. It’s nice.
But the smell of CorpseCorpseCorpse drowns his senses, invades his thoughts, until he is thoroughly overwhelmed. He can feel the rumble of Corpse’s voice telling him a story from where he’s slumped against Sykkuno. He’s warm, so definitely not an actual corpse, not to mention he certainly doesn’t smell like an actual corpse— n-not that he knows what that smells like. He feels silly, again.
Before he knows what he’s doing he blurts out, “you smell good!” Jesus. Jesus, he shouldn’t have said that. This is going to be so awkward. But it’s a compliment and the truth. And he enjoys complimenting his friends truthfully. Except in this moment. Maybe Corpse is too tired to process his words—
“Wh-what?” Oh no.
“Uh, I said... you smell, uhm, good.” He’s sticking with it, cause he’s an idiot.
Corpse’s eyes crinkle around the edges and he says, warmly, “Oh, you mean my cologne? Thank you.” No, thank you. “This shit was actually expensive, so I’m glad it’s worth it,” he hesitates, “I didn’t overdo it, did I? I’m always paranoid I do.” In the safety of his head Sykkuno begs him, please overdo it next time.
“No, yeah, totally worth it. You didn’t. Overdo it.” Jesus.
“Are you sure? I’d hate to stink up your sweatshirt with it again.” He plucks at the sleeves, like he wants to take it off.
“It’s fine.”
Corpse stares at him. Sykkuno does not stare back.
“It really smelled like me? Before?”
“Uhh... yeah.” Wait, we’re really talking about this?!
“So... you liked it? Cause you just said...”
Jesus, we’re really talking about this!
“Uhm, y-yeah.” The extent of Sykunno’s vocabulary, apparently. Sorry any and all English classes of his past, you tried your best.
Corpse scoots impossibly closer. Sykunno’s vocabulary has, actually, been eaten by an imaginary Bimbus, who has never once, actually, eaten his homework, but there’s a first for everything.
“Y’know, you look good in my sweatshirt,” Sykkuno did not know. He didn’t know anything anymore in that moment as his brain decides to leave the room upon hearing those unbelievable words.
“I’m glad you like it. And I hope you don’t mind me saying, but, uh, in a way it’s like... showing off that you’re my friend, because I’m proud I’m someone worthy enough to be friends with someone as great as you.” Oh. So they ARE friends. He knew that, of course, but the outright, confirmation that it’s mutual turns his insides into butterflies.
With that oh-so-simple-and-definitely-not-a-big-deal-declaration stated, Corpse makes a show of burrowing further into the sweatshirt, pressing himself practically flush against Sykkuno’s side and promptly passes out. Looks like Sykkuno isn’t taking the couch after all, not that he wants to now! He’d hate to leave his friend’s side.
So they fall asleep like that. The comforting smell of Corpse settled over him like a blanket, easing him to sleep. With his best friend beside him, Sykkuno knows that, even after he’s gone tomorrow, he will still have a part of him near, lingering, reminding him of this moment, of those kind words to keep him company and to wrap around himself when the physical distance between them becomes too much.