TENNESSEE WHISKEY -corpse husband-

ROUGH DAY (41)

SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING; mentions of self harm, suicide, and self harm scars. please be cautious. there is no action of any of these things happening to any of the characters actively but it is mentioned.

the summary of this chapter will be in the beginning of the next chapter. do not feel left out if you choose not to read it. there are no major plot points in this chapter that will affect your understanding of the story going forward.

also, please know i am not glamorizing or sexualizing the self harm scars corpse irl has mentioned before. please please please dont do that.

Corpse was having a rough day.

Weston didn't have time for bad days, but she made time for Corpse.

    Calling out again, she knew it was likely she would be fired. But she couldn't think about that, not with Corpse sobbing in the shower in her arms.

    With water running down her lips, she kept them shut, knowing speaking wouldn't do anything for this situation. He needed to let it out for awhile, and try to relax.

    She ran her hands over his back, trying to rub the knots out of his back gently. He was in pain, too much pain to be 23, but she was trying her best.

    "Baby, why don't I give you a massage on the bed.... maybe laying down will take some pressure off of your back and hips," Weston suggested, speaking quietly but loud enough for him to hear. The water was running cold. Without taking any initiative to move, Weston sighed, and turned off the water. Corpse was still latched onto her, his posture horribly from forcing his head into the crook of her neck, even though he was so tall.

    She grabbed his hands gently, peeling them away from her waist, and pushing him away from her slightly. His head stayed down, his shoulders slouched.

    "Corpse, come on, baby," Weston stepped out first, ignoring the chill of the air hitting her skin. She handed Corpse a towel and began drying herself off, leaving him alone in the bathroom.

    Pulling a t-shirt over her head, and panties up her legs, she watched Corpse carefully as he entered the room and slid on a pair of boxers.

    "I'm tired," he said, his voice sounding raspier than usual.

    "Did you take your medicine?" Weston reminded. He sighed, but walked to the kitchen to take it.

    Sighing, Weston sat on the bed, head in her hands. Today was a lot. She still hadn't figured out what Nathan was trying to do, he was constantly texting her and telling her about his kids and wife, and honestly, she wanted to block his number. But she didn't. She didn't want to give him a reason to take her to court over Killian.

    Killian hadn't mentioned Nathan to anyone since they had met him. He seriously didn't care about him, and Nathan didn't understand that.

    Corpse was having a bad day, physically and mentally. It happened, sometimes, and Weston had been lucky enough that she didn't usually need to stay home over it. Corpse would just sleep it off, take his medicine, and move on. He would talk to his friends online, find happiness in fan art and tweets that made him laugh.

    But today, he had begged her to stay home.

    She wouldn't have stayed, honestly, if he hadn't mentioned what he would end up doing if he was alone.

    At least he was being honest with her.

    He was trying to get better. He was trying to be open and honest about what he was feeling. She couldn't be mad at him for that.

    Corpse was still learning that, when you're a parent, you can't just drop everything and sleep for days. He had done it before, multiple times, but now, with Killian and Weston, it just wasn't possible. He had to stream later, and pick up Killian from school.

    But right now, his hands were shaking, his back was tense, and his throat was hurting... he just wanted to sleep.

    "I'm sorry," he said, seeing Weston on the bed, her head in her hands. He was crying again, maybe from physical pain or perhaps what his head was telling him about what she was thinking.

    She snapped her head up, going to him immediately. He was crumbling at the doorway, arms folding in on himself, trying to hide from all of this.

    "No, there's nothing to be sorry for, bub. It's okay," she reassured him, guiding him to the bed.

    She held his hands from finding their way to his face, running her own hands over his scars there. They weren't deep, and some had faded before Weston knew him, but one, from his eye down to his lip, was deep, and would end up staying. She sighed. When he said the "face shit" went deeper than fans knew, he wasn't joking. It was hard.

     "You're everything I want and more," she reminded, kissing his cheeks and finally his lips gently.

    He was still sniffling and struggling to catch his breath, but he wasn't crying. That would have to do for now.

    He laid down in the center of the bed on his stomach, his back muscles prominent.

    He relaxed when she sat on his butt, lotion in her palms. Just the weight of her being there was calming him down. Weston ran her hands over his back, spreading the lotion and gently massaging him in circles.

    With his eyes closed, he looked at peace, and Weston continued.

    After nearly an hour of massaging his back, his breath coming out in long huffs through slightly parted lips, Weston got off of him gently. She covered him with a blanket before leaving the dark room, closing the door behind her.

   

NOTE!!
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i love you all so much.