okay why do i find this way too cute
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fruit salad
you loved fruit. it was your favourite thing to eat. anywhere you went, you always had something along the lines of an apple or a punnet of blueberries as a go to snack.
corpse had discovered this about you early. sometimes when he’d kiss you, he’d taste the kiwi fruit you’d just eaten, or whatever other fruit you’d had. one night, he watched you eat a whole watermelon for dinner.
you weren’t very good at cooking but man did you make a mean fruit salad. you knew exactly what fruit combinations worked perfectly together and lately you’d fallen into the habit of making extra so you could give some to corpse.
today was no different, you were heading over to corpse’s place and you’d spent the morning making one of these spectacular fruit salads.
he’d left the front door unlocked, knowing you were heading over and so you let yourself in. it wasn’t long before you found him at his computer. he’d look up at you when you entered, puckering his lips out so you’d greet him with a kiss and he’d hmm at the fresh fruit flavour lingering on your lips.
“taste good, baby.” he’d compliment you and you’d smile and quickly kiss both his cheeks.
“this’ll taste better.” you’d respond, placing the fruit beside his keyboard with a fork so he could snack on it while he was playing.
“it might be a close second.”
his attention would go back to his game after that and you noticed he was playing something you hadn’t seen before. it was a bunch of cute looking animals all performing violent acts on the screen so instead of walking out, you linger for a little bit, standing so you could rest your head against the back of his chair while he leaned forward in concentration.
after losing a couple rounds, corpse determination to win peaked when another game started. and that he did and following his success he’d throw his head back so suddenly you wouldn’t have enough to move.
“ow!” you’d step back and your hands would fly up to the area on your face that corpse had just unintentionally head butted with the back of his head.
“shit, baby,” he’d rush to rip off his headset and scramble up from his seat. concern for you instantly replacing his glee from winning. “i’m so sorry, does it hurt?”
“yeah.” you’d answer honestly, you’ve got your eyes screwed shut and the skin is already displaying a splash of red from the impact.
“fuck, i’m sorry,” he’d repeat, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pry your hands away from your face so he could inspect it for himself. “i didn’t know- didn’t know you were there... baby, fuck, i’m so sorry.”
“it’s okay, i’ll be okay.” finally you open your eyes and there’s an obvious build up of tears, not because you’re upset but purely because of the nerves in your face.
“no, it’s like, getting your nose pierced. like, it might not hurt that bad, but you automatically get teary eyed because of how it’s all connected, you know?” you had been the one injured, but it was him who needed to be reassured.
he’d never moved his hands so cautiously, his fingertips just barely pressing against your face as his eyes so intensely scanned the reddened skin.
“a little, but i’ll be okay.”
“i’m really fucking sorry.”
“stop, it’s okay. it was just an accident.”
he’d stop playing the game then, even though you tried to tell him he didn’t have to. but he insisted and instead, he sat you up on the kitchen counter so he could press an icepack against your injury. another thing you’d tell him he didn’t have to do. but once again, he insisted. but it wasn’t all bad because after the ice bag came all of the kisses.
