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When December Holiday disappeared, the initial assumption was simple: she crashed on the Dreemurrs’ couch. It had been a regular occurrence anyway, to see her anywhere but her family home. Carol knew who to call, Toriel learned how to soften the consequences for the runaway girl she generously accepted as a guest.
This time however, the Dreemurrs came up clueless.
Toriel was concerned most of all, or maybe the clumsiest at stifling her worry. Like during all the incidents before, it was her to pick up Carol’s ringing during the early morning.
She forgot car keys and to pack lunch for the kids, so she had to hurriedly put together sandwiches while explaining how she’s such a silly old lady, forgetting such silly things. Asgore calmed her, of course, over the phone with gentle reassurances while he'd already sent people on patrols around town. Her response was snappy, asserting that she was so calm, thank you very much! Nonetheless, they ended the call on I love you toos.
News carried from door to door like a cavern’s echo. It was part of Hometown’s charm, how everyone lived huddled close. The youth, Asriel among them, found it rather claustrophobic – he fought crippling boredom fists bare – though that was only a trivial restraint to get through by rummaging the forests.
Him and Dess would run through the trees often, freedom carried in the wind tugging at their clothes. Until a car honked at them from the asphalt street, that is.
He couldn't concentrate at school. Trying turned out fruitless, as his mind relentlessly drifted from what was written on the board, somehow more distracted than when Dess threw crumpled notes with crude drawings or proposals to skip class onto his desk. His eyes flickered to the clock, then the window, where stubby trees caramelized before shedding leaves.
Others carefully picked their words when conversing, walking on eggshells like one wrong step would cause his otherwise calm demeanor to crack. Pizzapants casted concerned half-glances his way; though that occurred since earlier he'd awkwardly asked Asriel “where's your chick at?” and was graced with the most deadpan, disappointed expression the other could muster.
All Asriel had understood from their behavior was: they were expecting him to be worried sick.
He mulled over their last conversation, how fidgety she seemed. He couldn't catch her eye, she couldn't seem to look at one place for too long. As if, once he went over it enough times, the answer to where she had vanished would've appeared before him. A bitter heaviness settled in his gut; not enough to call it a feeling of “something terrible has happened”, but too unnerving for comfort nonetheless.
Going to such an extent; she'd never done that before.
Mr. Boom noticed the lack of Dess in her usual seat and the lack of Asriel's attention during class. He let him off subtly. And if Asriel bolted out the door the moment the bell rang, knowing that if he lingered the teacher would ask him to stay back for a little talk, then he… just really needed to use the bathroom.
Each break time, Toriel strolled by, circling the halls as if her one goal wasn't to check whether her son hasn't disappeared, too. Her doting increased tenfold. She stress-baked butterscotch pie and had banana bread cooling off on the counter when Asriel came home. The entire house was stenched in the smell of sugar and butter. It would've been soothing if his appetite wasn't dire.
At the dining table, she served him some of the pie. He kneaded the slice for so long, hunching over the plate and staring down at it with almost an accusation, it could've returned to its primitive dough form.
“You still haven't finished, dear?” Toriel called over, putting gloves away as she took brownies out of the oven. “Kris had not come out of your room since last night; that awful fever just does not seem to cease. You should bring them a slice, hm?”
He nodded, muttering: “‘Course, mom. I will.”
Her brow creased. The rushed assuredness in her stride stuttered to a halt. Remarkably, Asriel sensed the slight, considering tilt of her head. She sighed softly, taking a seat across from her son.
“Go on, Azzy. I can see the cogs turning in your head.”
“She'll be back soon,” Asriel retaliated, taking a forkful of pie mush into his mouth.
“Of that I am certain,” Toriel agreed easily. Her palms rested in her lap. “Perhaps she's visiting a friend out of town, aiming to give Carol a scare. They fought the night she left, or so I heard. I've always told you that girl has a temper, she takes after her mother… Anyway, you’ll wake up tomorrow morning and it will all be back to normal, honey.”
Asriel swallowed with effort. She was straining herself to mold into what he needed to hear–he concluded, from the way her kind smile didn't quite reach her eyes–and that was entirely too much.
“No need to trouble yourself, yes?”
His gaze stubbornly fixed on the plate. He searched for an emotion, a word to call this lethargy other than–nothing. A terrible detachment. A scattered brain.
“Though, it is alright if you are worried for her,” Toriel put a paw atop Asriel's own, “we all are.”
His bottom lip quivered.
“Oh.” Toriel stood, chair scraping against floor, embracing him in a bone crushing hug.
–
Asriel had gone upstairs, after watching TV for a while. The moving screen only made him restless, leg bouncing and focus elsewhere. Of course they weren't mentioning a missing girl from Hometown; it hadn't even been a full day.
The curtains of their room were closed shut, and the beams of light that managed to peek through spilled down the floor in bright orange pillars.
He put the slice of butterscotch on Kris’ nightstand. They were tucked in neatly, a damp cloth placed on their forehead. Asriel managed something like a greeting. They peered at him through half-closed eyelids, expression blank.
“Want me to cool that for you?”
“Nuh,” they mumbled, blinking dazily.
The room was stuffy, air heavy with disease and the remains of an autumn heat. Asriel went to crack open the window.
The previous evening they’d been nearly unresponsive. Wearing Dess’ bomber jacket, Kris stumbled home with a limp to their gait, mud on carefully ironed trousers and a burning forehead. All words came raspy, like they just came back from screaming at a concert.
He sat on the edge of his bed, all energy draining, shoulders dropping. Kris took one long inhale through the mouth after another.
“No one’s got the slightest idea,” Asriel started, uncertain of where it was leading. “It’s like she evaporated. Elly wasn’t at school; apparently Carol wouldn’t let her out of the house. Have you two texted?”
Kris hummed.
“That’s a relief,” Asriel laid down on top of the covers. It was uncomfortable, his denim pants digging into all the awkward places.
The tall columns of light slithered down the doorframe. Any minute now she'd be escorted in a police car on the way home, he reasoned, averting his gaze to the ceiling.
He rested his paws right below his chest, fingers intertwining. “I just… hope she’s safe, you know? Crime rate is absurdly low in Hometown, but you can’t be too cautious, I guess.”
Kris wasn’t answering, but Asriel didn't await a reply. They’ve seldom been the talkative sort, and in their current state, well, it’d be cruel to anticipate a response. Though he was deeply aware how religiously his little sibling looked up to Dess. Realistically, no way they'd admit it, but Kris’ eyes sparkled whenever she did something reckless. They'd begun putting up posters on their side of the room and dying their hair a fiery red. Asriel knew, because he was similarly captivated by the force of nature Dess was.
So, they must've been going through an unimaginable turmoil other than the fever, and Asriel ached for them, really. Perhaps knowing others were concerned, too, would help.
Even if a small, selfish part of him just wished to talk to someone who understood. A mother's comforting embrace brought merely a temporary calm. He marched on, letting the thoughts he kept locked away tumble out.
“It’s so stupid. I worry anyway.” His voice dipped to a low whisper. “I mean, what if something seriously bad happened, something there’s no coming back from? I'm probably exaggerating, and she's fine, she must be, but… She’s been so irresponsible lately I… I don’t know if I’d ever forgive myself. If only she picked up the phone, but…”
Kris’ breath was coming laboured. Sickness had them sweating through pajamas. Asriel felt a tinge of guilt at keeping them up with his rambling.
He turned on his side to face them. Their frail frame laid in the bed across, shaking. Something Asriel would usually mistake for a peal of laughter. Instead of a giggle, they wetly rasped:
“I'm sorry.”
Asriel's own mattress seemed entirely unfit for his body then, overcome with a scorching heatwave. His limbs were too long and thoughts too big for his head. Kris didn't need him to be worried. The others did – they needed the image of a polite boy so miserable they could go on with their lives knowing somebody else cried rivers, but Kris just needed their brother.
The room itself shrunk; the glowing stars on the ceiling might've as well fallen and crushed his lungs.
He'd never heard them make that sort of noise before or after, and a deep-rooted credence of wrongness settled at the back of his mind.
–
During the first week of her disappearance, Asriel was seen walking the streets hanging up missing person posters.
He looked ragged, yesterday's sweater with a stain next to the collar draped over his long figure. It caught up to him. The impending reality of her absence.
Running out of sensible ideas had him putting printed copies of Dess’ photo with contact info under on power poles and lamps on the outskirts of town. Perhaps a car would drive by, and maybe they'd seen a girl, just like this grinning one with dyed hair and piercings.
Clouds drifted through the sky above, making the gloomy day a gray and mundane one. The season turned to its colder side, and Asriel wished he'd brought a jacket for this escapade. Leaves, like roasted onion, similarly golden-brown and sizzling, crunched underfoot as he made his way to a lit up street lamp. He involuntarily wondered: was Dess cold, too? Wherever she was, did the autumn chill reach her?
If it had been him who mysteriously disappeared without a trace, Dess would not rest until she found him. Hours spent sleeping felt like valuable, wasted time, but he was utterly useless when tired. Such a frustrating compromise.
“Oh, little Azzy…? I haven't seen you in so long… You've grown so much, you're twice my height now.”
He turned to see a scrawny looking person, with a thick shawl too big for their body and an elegant top hat. They looked at Asriel with a surface level pity–a glimmer of realization.
“Yeah,” he choked out, stifling his surprise with a laugh. “Good to see you, how've you been?”
He did not remember their name, admittedly. Not even a letter, not a flash of memory, besides the one time Asriel (face smeared in poorly made doodles) chased Kris (marker in hand) down the hall, the babysitter trailing behind. He mostly recalled being furious at Kris for using a permanent one.
“I’m alright, I'm alright… You were a good kid… Always listening to whatever I asked… Kris not so much, hm…? Remember how they'd pull at my ears!” They spoke, accenting their vowels with squeaks Asriel initially mistook for voice cracks.
Coincidentally, they forgot to mention Kris only ever did that when the babysitter shot a scolding glance at Elly. They never meant anything malicious, Asriel was sure, but Noelle was a sensitive kid. It didn't take much for tears to start spilling – he’d always feel a needle of relatability sting. Kris took on the responsibility of bringing a smile back to her face whenever it slipped.
“Sad, that we reconvene now… I never would've guessed little December to run away from home like this.”
The paper crumpled; his fists clenched. Within his chest a warm, ugly feeling bubbled.
“Mh–m.”
“She was quite the troublemaker… Maybe I could've foreseen it…? Don't let little Kris get any ideas, Azzy, remember how they'd follow her everywhere, like a puppy?”
“I do.”
They smiled, as if they had any right to lecture him and then laugh.
“Huh.” He breathed, head tilting slightly. “Yes. What a shame.”
Wind rushed by, the top hat tipped dangerously.
He continued, “Unfortunately, I'm quite busy. Still got to hang these by the road to Ebott.”
“Ah.” Their gaze flickered to Asriel's firm grip, then to the piece of paper wildly whipping on the lamp pole.
He softly gasped, handing them around half of the papers. Euphoric, how their face dropped when seeing the picture up close.
“That’s my bad, there you go. Didn't realize you wished to help out.”
“No– I mean… I…”
“Thanks so much. See you around,” he cheerfully quipped over his shoulder. He'd already walked off in swift, long strides.
–
Winter turned to spring, and with it progressively more sunny, dreadful months passed since the disappearance of December Holiday. Once the oak forests around Hometown bloomed with flush green leaves, birdsong and chatter filled the streets.
Asriel hated it. He despised how the world kept on turning without Dess in it.
Peers began asking if he'd like to tag along for hangouts. Loneliness had eaten away at the spark he previously possessed. It started to dim along with the hope of her coming back. But Asriel would oblige more often than not; drinking beer and acting like it didn't make bile rise in his throat, skipping stones at the lake while imagining the ripples to be her ice-skates sliding along the frozen surface.
He became tired of these people. Tired of these places.
Everywhere reeked of her. So much so, it became unbearable to be outside. Asriel would've preferred sulking in his bedroom, hiding under the covers or laying still on the couch and waiting for any news. He couldn't, though. He couldn't, because that would've been a testament to his helplessness. A sign, to whatever wicked force that took her, that it had won. It stole Dess from him – he wouldn't let it steal the golden boy of Hometown, too.
So he attended class, keeping up the illusion, being the best mage there was at making impressions last.
Asriel made a mistake, though, when he took his sweet time leaving Mr. Gerson’s class. It was May, the warm weather made him drowsy and slow.
“Asriel,” Mr. Boom spoke, as students swarmed out the door.
There it was. Asriel stilled. He could've acted like he didn't hear Gerson, the loud conversations of overjoyed teenagers a comfortable excuse. But that wasn't polite.
He pointed to himself, a question written in his knotted brows.
Gerson laughed a hearty, full cackle. “Yes, you, young man. Let's have a chat, shall we?”
Hanging his bag over his shoulder, Asriel dragged his feet up to the teacher's desk. Besides a particularly ancient looking computer, Mr. Boom had hastily stacked pre-graded papers, a bowl of candy anyone was free to take one from, and an uneaten apple, almost looking polished with how the skin glistened.
“Well, I let myself take a look at yer grades, can't say a bad word ‘bout those. B’sides a hiccup in late September, you've been doin’ an extraordinary job, son.”
“Thank you,” he choked out. A twist in his gut told him this wasn't why Gerson held him back. “Mr. Boom, it means a lot coming from you.”
The old man sighed, leaning forward in his chair. His gaze narrowed as he stared Asriel down, seemingly trying to read him like a book just from the way he stood. Asriel held back the instinct to shrink, make himself look small.
“C’mon now, let us be on the same level.” He nodded to the direction of the classroom's desks. “Get yourself a seat.”
Asriel grabbed a chair by its sides, dragging it forward, so when he sat the lower half of Gerson was obscured from view.
“Hrm, yer probably expectin’ me to say somethin’ sappy, aren’cha?” he foretold, shaking his head. He let it simmer for a moment before he said, “If she loves ya, she'll come back.”
Goosebumps scuttled beneath his fur.
“Ah, c’mon. Nobody’s too grown to still believe in what seems ridiculous.”
Eyelashes fluttering, Asriel gaped at Gerson like the old man lost his mind for good.
“I don't–”
“‘Scuse me, young man.”
He stretched in his seat, an armchair that seemed immensely snug compared to the chairs the students occupied, face twisting in discomfort.
“My back ain't what it used to be. I liked taking long walks, waitin’ for ideas to come along, the Aristotelian way. That is, when the cane wasn't a necessity.” His tone was light, weaved with so much causality, as if the limitations were merely something to get adjusted to. “These days I tend to spend lots o’ time with my son, and as he's usually at the church, so am I.
“Few weeks before she went, she'd turn up to the church doors; they’re always open for any wandering souls, y’see. But, the strange thing is, she wouldn't pray, nor confess,” Gerson's wrinkled face split with a wide grin. Heat returned to Asriel's cheeks. “But those doe eyes stared at the stained glass windows unblinking, I’m telling you.
“Once I asked her, “Little missy, what's bringing you ‘round ‘ere, what’re ya lookin’ for?” and what she said was simple:
“«Answers,» she told me.”
Mr. Boom’s healthy eye glinted as he trailed off.
Stories, fairytales – those were things Gerson had become known for, and what Asriel grew up with. Reading about heroes miraculously arriving exactly where they're needed at the exact right time, martyrs bringing hope and freedom to nations, tragic tales of romance intertwined with loss, turned heartbreak. He'd imagine himself in the role of the protagonist from those make-believe worlds, wishing for something equally exciting, just as world-shaking to happen. For his life to write like a story.
When it did, it was a Greek-esque tragedy.
Asriel leaned back, silence filling the space between them.
“Mr. Boom, why–” he sputtered, before clearing his throat. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I appreciate you telling me this, but… Why are you telling me this?”
“‘Cause I know by finding those answers she left ya in the dark. You look it, young man, the way you’re living day by day, bit by bit, but yer heart's not in it, is it?”
Gerson knew, so Asriel stayed quiet, expression barely moving by a muscle.
“I don't have a simple answer for you, promise ya: wish I did. Though, that's the true thrill of a journey; not the end goal, but the road to achievin’ it. You're gonna keep movin’ forward with the current of life, whether ya like it or not.
“Now, it is you who decides. Will ya trail after hers, or make yer own path?”
All at once, it was too big for him to carry. No more baggage, no more – just let him be. Angel, just let him be.
Slowly, he nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Boom.”
The teacher chuckled.
“You're dismissed.”
Asriel made it a show of nonchalance, putting the chair back and heading out the classroom door. Once he was out, he dashed ahead.
Turn. Push. Deep breath. Air. Fresh, stinging air.
–
Walking downtown went in a mechanical, memorized manner. Despite not attending mass in the last few weeks – his dad began sleeping on the couch, if he'd come home at all. Though it all simply ended with Toriel's dismissal, no explosive argument. His legs led him right to those tall doors. The air was stale, still in a way that carried a distinct smell of something he'd forgotten as a child.
Asriel liked the stories Alvin would tell during sermons, back when his height barely reached the door's handle and the church seemed gigantic. Though the religious text and unrelated anecdotes merged incomprehensibly. It didn't occur to him like a possible reality, where an Angel guarded its worshippers and so they'd pray for blessings, or where three heroes lived among the townsfolk.
The second grand door took a little more effort to nudge open. Rows of benches stood empty, and radiance shone through the stained glass, painting the room in a mosaic of tangerine and teal.
“You know what?” Dess, no older than ten, had whispered, cupping the side of her face with her palm so it wouldn't carry. Before mass began, she’d escaped her mother's grasp and plopped down next to him with a delighted smirk. “I kinda… I think you could be a hero like that.”
“What?”
“Be quiet!” She’d hissed. “But yeah, you’ve that goody two shoes shtick going on. And… it’d be cool, no? Wielding big swords, beating up bad guys, just like in Dragon Blazers, Azzy, think about it…”
Asriel had hesitated, peeking over at his mom. She was looking ahead, focused on the sermon with a light smile ghosting her face and a hand in Asgore's.
He’d mumbled, “Only if you were a hero, too.”
Asriel swept a finger over the table where fruit juice would stand. A streak of clean where the dust clung to his index instead.
He'd help Kris and Dess smuggle cups while Noelle kept watch; it'd been one of the scariest moments of his life. Now it simply made a giggle slip past his lips. He continued stepping further down the aisle. Such quiet; it should’ve been peaceful.
Occupying a spot on the front bench, he had a great view of the resplendent windows. Broken pieces of colored glass, mended together again, made somewhat of a coherent image. The cracks adorned with gold, glistening veins. It was beautiful, as much as It instilled a sense of fear, like being caught watching something he wasn't supposed to see during a lifetime.
The Angel's depiction varied depending on who got asked to describe its glory. Toriel Dreemurr would explain to little Azzy and little Krissy how It's not comprehensible, and wasn't ever meant to be. They’ve been all under the Angel’s wings, was what she assured them of. Kris Dreemurr would've shrugged, though a ghost of horror haunted the way they pursed their lips, as if scared to blurt out something blasphemous–or a horrid truth. Gerson Boom made stories and a name for himself thanks to the Angel, and Noelle Holiday sang in the choir about Its mercy, the sweetest melody.
December Holiday found something, the Angel gave her something, an answer, maybe more questions – and she followed It or, if she didn't, It took her away by force.
Among them, Asriel Dreemurr couldn't bring himself to find peace in the figure of wide, euphoric eyes and lips of flesh and dull teeth. Maybe she laid there, under the wooden panels, rotting with a cry of find me on her tongue. It urged him to dig, to split the floor open using just his claws, devastate the Angel's home the way his own came crumbling.
No, on the contrary, he knew It peered down at him. The heaviness, a needle pierced through his soul to keep it in place as it got dissected. On the day she disappeared, he felt It, something far more sinister growing along the seed of grief.
“Dess…?” he uttered, a soft pleading. Then louder, “Dess?”
His head pounded. He wanted, needed to run. Legs rigid. Wouldn't budge. Breath coming short, rugged, uneven huffs. And he was the worst friend, the most vile person on earth right there, in that church – anger, white and blinding. At the damned Angel, at his doting mother, at Dess.
She left, she left him. All alone. After years spent side by side–he thought: so much wasted time–and that brought him over the cliff's edge.
“Dess…” Breathy, desperate, ripped through his throat.
Because it wasn't. It wasn't wasted, he treasured it so, and yet. Something fundamental, perhaps the stardust he’d been born from, made him care. Messily, with clumsy hands and all the wrong words. And yet. And yet, though she was dearest to him, he invested so much time in the us of them; Asriel despised knowing none of it truly mattered anymore.
Choking on the syllable, “Dess.”
He called, he called out her name–but nobody came. Even his love, such a fragile tiny fraction he had, wasn't enough.
Bzz, bzz. Bzz, bzz. Bzz–
He fished out the vibrating phone from his back pocket, picking up with shaky fingers.
“Asriel, honey? You're late for dinner…”
–
At home, behind closed doors and under blankets Asriel let himself feel it. Feel the lack of her. How, since he remembered, his world morphed to fit a Dess-shaped figure at the center. Without her it remained hollow, memories never precise enough to replicate being in the moment. He ruminated, plummeting deep into the incorporeal empty space she left.
There were nights spent in solitude where Asriel would lay on those stiff couch cushions, pillow on his chest a makeshift weight – though it did not bring the same warmth as his passed out best friend. Mumbling incoherently, slapping him awake when he'd snore. Which was often.
When they'd lay like this, either on that exact couch or just… wherever, really – Kris might've been a puppy following after, but Asriel would follow beside, jogging to catch up if necessary. He ran a hand up and down his arm. Slow, calming motions. His fur, unusually unkept, caught in his claws. Hers was so soft and smooth, Asriel had never touched anything like it before. He feared he never would again.
He couldn't sleep. The only rest he got was when he ultimately passed out at the messy desk, late in the night, with an opened search tab.
Rather, he'd imagine what she looked like, with her short messy hair he thought very hard about running his fingers through (he never did, the regret was suffocating), and eyes sparkling with irresponsible ideas. Her voice went raspy when whispered, high (as the playground swings they used to go) when she doubled over with laughter. Asriel committed each detail to memory, like learning the map of a night sky. He'd known every constellation, each star – a freckle or a mole.
His dad stopped coming home at dawn and lightly scolding Asriel for staying up; sometimes Asriel’d replied with some weak excuse. Most nights he'd laid in solitude, listening to the tick… tick… ticking clock.
Grieving for someone while there had not been held a funeral somehow crushed him more than if he went to visit her at the cemetery. Hung on a string in an in-between state, a fish on a hook: out of water he'd perish painfully, slowly… and deep down there something waited to swallow him whole. He wasn't sure which way to go was better.
Asriel couldn't let himself break down completely, though. He was needed. As a son, a brother, a friend. After an initial cave in during the winter – it's been a year, a year – he picked himself up piece by piece. Losing the hangouts to schoolbooks became utilized when it started to mean getting out of Hometown. Attending contests he'd win by sheer spite, putting up trophies above his bed which were nothing but shiny evidence for devastating ennui. With the goal of college at the end of the road, he'd put up with all the newfound boredom.
He remained angry. The gross, pent up rage threatened to burst. Stuck in a hopeless loop of getting upset whenever others noticed how distressed he felt, it had him wanting to break things, rip his fur out, all while screaming about how they shouldn't be worrying about him while she was still gone.
On really bad days, Asriel would call her number.
It was primitive foolishness – he knew – because her location had been turned off and it went to voicemail anyway. A guilty, egotistical closure he'd been craving.
Just like each time before, curled up Asriel let his head rest on the back of the couch, phone pressed to ear. The ringing came high-pitched, piercing through the silent night.
Then came rustling. Something like drops of tap water from the kitchen sink – except it sounded from the phone speaker.
“Dess?” he muttered; he found himself saying her name aloud a lot as of recently.
“–honest? I could look at our stars forever,” Noelle said on the other end. Though her voice was squeakier, slurry like when she’d just started wearing braces.
“What?” He sat up, going to pinch himself.
The tapping of hooves on damp ground stopped.
“Well, don't get too caught up in it now, Elly. We gotta head home soon.”
It couldn't be.
“Hey–”
“Hello?”
“Elly, is that you?”
A soft gasp on the other end.
“You know my name…?”
His brows knitted together. “How…? But Dess’ phone hasn't…”
“Been found” sizzled out on his tongue. Noelle kept on excitedly chattering on.
“–someone in there? Huh, you must be a very small person. Oh my gosh, are you an elf? Or a fairy?”
“Noelle, what's going on?”
“Dess, look, this flower’s talking back!”
“What?” That voice again. “Elly, you silly goofer, they're echo flowers. They echo what was said to them.”
Her. It was her.
His eyes welled, threatening to spill. He pointedly stared at a dead point ahead, world blurring and expression static while his thoughts raced.
“Nooooo, see! Hello, mister? Say something please?”
“Howdy,” he croaked out.
“Woah,” the sarcasm in her voice was palpable. His stomach flipped. “Crazy. Can it do sentences?”
“I–” He cleared his throat. Softly, “What are you talking about? Dess…”
Noelle squealed. “I told you! I told you!”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “Har, har. Very funny. Now, who's pulling a prank?”
“No, I– Oh, goodness. Dess, it's… it's me.” He jumped to his feet. The carpet flattened where he stomped in circles.
It was her. It was Dess, his Dess… The building desperation – building, building under his skin, ready to erupt, like the dust coursing through his veins wasn't really dust but volcano ash – it manifested in torrential tears.
“Eh? Not a voice I recognize, that's certain.” Hooves tapping. She got audibly closer. “Elly, you?”
“Nope.”
He braced himself before speaking. “Asriel? Your best friend? Azzy?”
Crackling.
The quiet brought him back to the present. His pacing ceased.
Dess. Dess, talking. Being snarky. To him. Not just voicemail. Actual living, breathing December. His cheeks were wet with salt.
She didn't recognize him.
How could she not?
Was she safe, where was she – all the questions he'd been asking himself, spiraling, a tornado sweeping him up and thrashing around.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Yeah, a’right, this has to be a joke. Let's just…”
“No, no, Dess– uh, crap.” His hand trembled, grip tightening. Something, come on, something for her to know–
“Can I get a tea from Gerson’s?”
“Urgh, gramps gonna start telling war stories again.” Her tone dropped to a low octave of resignation as it became distant. “If you make it quick so the old man doesn't bore us to death, then sure.”
“You still have your light on when you go to sleep.”
“Wh–”
“You wouldn't let me turn it off at sleepovers. You said… you told me you saw things, in the dark. And you were scared. And, and you made me swear to never tell this to anyone, cause you always tried to, like – such a dumb thing, by the way – keep up this reputation of a fearless–”
“Stop.”
Asriel's knees failed him. He plummeted, back hitting the couch. He white-knuckled the blanket to pull it over himself.
“I don't… know you. This is– it's freaking me out.”
Fog creeped up at the corners of his vision.
“Um, Dess?”
She clicked her tongue. “Elly, just go home. Tell mom I wanted to search the garbage dump for more posters.”
Noelle hesitated.
“She'll be upset. She'll take your guitar again.”
“When isn't she at least cranky?” Ruffling hair, a surprised noise from the younger fawn. “Go.”
Asriel let his eyelids fall closed. Chest rising and falling in turns, burning oxygen in his lungs the only thing that seemed tangible.
“What are you.” Dry. Accusatory.
He blinked.
“I–” He halted. “I'm not sure. You're– you shouldn't be…”
How very odd. That voice, it wasn't his Dess.
That meant she was a stranger. A stranger–using her voice, perhaps? He'd heard stories like that before.
“You said your name was Asriel. Like the Dreemurr?”
“Yeah.”
“There's no way you're named after the late prince, dude. That's like, unspoken kind of illegal.”
She was speaking in riddles – which, not any sort of revelation – but with something so earnest behind it. Despite it being utter gibberish.
“I am Asriel Dreemurr.”
A second of genuine consideration from her.
“Nah, you're pulling my leg, c’mon.”
“I'm serious,” he practically cried, “and confused. Dess, where are you? We've been– We've been looking–”
“You’re seriously weird. Waterfall, duh.”
Asriel was at a loss for whatever waterfall she might've been talking about. Not a precise location, playing it safe perhaps, or a code?
“Okay.” He nodded, though she couldn't see him. “Okay, describe it to me?”
“Describe– blue, annoyingly moist. I don't understand what you're getting at.”
“I've never been.”
“...Right.”
The number could've been wiped, belonging to someone different entirely – but then, that seemed more nonsensical than anything. It was the same voice from old song demos he'd listen to that came from the speaker.
It could've been a dream, certainly felt like it. There was some part of him, though, some childish part of him that yearned to have one more ride on their bikes to the lake, or to whisper silly dreams to each other under blankets and wish on the luminescent stars on his bedroom ceiling for them all to come true. That childish part nagged at him to indulge. After all, Dess was right there, whispering into his ear once more.
He ran a hand down his face. Attempting to sober up. Too much wishful thinking.
“Sorry,” he blurted. “I'm… really out of it. I must’ve, um, called the wrong number.”
A sigh. “Honest, if I wasn't into weird stuff you'd have lost me there. Buuuut, you're not the first flower I've spoken to. So, what's with you?”
What was with him?
“You reminded me of my best friend.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, yeah, it's dumb. I'll just – sorry again – uh, so I'm gonna hang up.”
“Wait.”
His fingers twitched around the phone.
“Go on. Tell me about them.”
Asriel stopped in his tracks. Scratching that scab couldn't end well, but… He hadn't led a conversation where it wasn't a cautious dance of tiptoeing around the subject in a long, long while. In this weirdness, he noticed a chance for normalcy.
He tried for a light tone, but it deflated as the words left his mouth. “She's different. Different from people's expectations. She always wanted to escape them, though, so I guess… she got exactly that. Different from other people. I fear… I don't think I could find a best friend like her in anyone else.”
“Sounds like a great person.”
It took him so off guard. He snickered.
“What?” And when he kept giggling, with more force: “What?”
“It's funny; she thought she wasn't. Well, admitted would be a better word.” His hand went numb from holding it up for so long. “One time, we were telling each other secrets. That was her confession. She wasn't a good person.”
Not-his Dess responded with a noise of acknowledgment. Hiding something; that's what Dess’ tell was. Going quiet.
“It's what made her incredible. She knew, and she still chose kindness. The town might've thought she wasn't a good example for the mayor’s daughter, far from it actually. But she was more than that. She was like, my exception. I told her… that time, my secret… hm.”
“What was it?”
“I'm not a good person either,” he'd said then, and now. “I can't feel how other monsters feel. They're so emotional; I don't feel anything so deeply… as deeply as they feel everything.”
Her breath wavered. Asriel waited. He’d become excellent at waiting.
“I… I don't really…”
“Yeah,” he smiled bitterly, knowingly. “She didn't either.”
She hummed half-heartedly. No worthless pity.
“She was my exception. I really cared for her.”
“So… what happened?"
“I don't know. She's gone.”
“Gone. How precise–”
“I don't know, okay? I don't know. Nobody does. She just… That day is a blur. It was all so quick, and…
“And I feel–guilty,” he guessed. The closest word to explain it. “What if I didn't notice the signs, or worse, ignored them? The last thing I sent her was a meme. A stupid meme of a frog on a bicycle. I didn't get to say goodbye, I didn't get to say…”
Asriel trailed off. He was losing the words, all sense hazy with the constant hum in his ears.
“Enough about little old me. Tell me something. About yourself.”
“You seem to know me already. Pointless much?”
“Tell me a secret.”
“The hell? I don't know you.”
“I told you mine.”
For all that he couldn't see of her, he let his memories fill in the gaps. He looked back on it, her short hair in braids and his feet off the ground. Red swings, a cloudless sky. Scorching hot summer.
“I guess. I’m worried about my dad. He got pretty sick recently. I try to put on a brave face for Elly. Um, my sister.” She kicked a pebble; it landed in a puddle with a plop. “That's why I bring her ‘round here. It doesn't smell like medicine, just petrichor.”
Whether it was his brain slowing down from sleep deprivation or the pure bliss of hearing her voice didn't matter. He'd relaxed completely. If they were to speak like they've never spoken before, Asriel could dance to that tune.
“I get that. My sibling falls ill really easily; human immune systems are way weaker than monster’s.”
“Are you actually– What? Are you, like,” her voice grew closer, docile touch on petals making the speaker buzz, “actually him, a trapped voice box or something…? If not, you've got some hardcore guts, man.”
“Ah, so you do recognize me?”
“Hardly,” she spat.
He shrugged. “Then, nice to meet you.”
“Ha, alright. What's next, gonna tell me your favorite color?”
“Yellow. I heard it's supposed to make you think happy things, and my dad grows – uh, used to grow – a patch in the garden.”
“...That's silly.”
“What's yours?”
“Well, um. Yellow's way too bright, personally. Red and green make me want to rip my eyeballs out, so… black.”
Asriel scoffed. “As in funeral black? That's… kinda miserable.”
“Clearly, you don't get it,” she retorted. “The ceiling here is glistening black all over. When I look up, that's the kind of color I like most. Endless. Something to get lost in. Another reason why I come here with Elly, probably the prettiest place in all of Underground.
“And she really loves the stars,” Dess concluded.
“Stars,” he parroted. Standing up, he walked to the window, blanket trailing behind like a cape.
“Yeah, think she got it from me. Whatever is out there, it's… I want to see it. The real thing.”
“I’m going to college to study stars.”
“Ambitious.”
“Astronomy’s neat.” The clouds parted, revealing a dark, limitless void filled with shining dots.
“Great. You're a nerd.” She yawned unceremoniously. “Though your roots reach pretty deep. Gonna be a challenge to get there.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Don't underestimate me.”
“I wouldn't dare. Just, you know, giving you a reality check.”
He hummed, leniently agreeing.
“What will you do after? After you see the real thing?”
“Probably… find another quote-unquote real thing to chase. Make a band, finally play my music on stage. Tour the surface.”
“I'd love to hear you play.”
He'd sat there, on her bed, while she occupied the floor and strummed her guitar. Now there was no music.
Just quiet. Too quiet; the dripping stopped.
“Dess?”
Pulling the phone away from his ear, the moonlit screen reflected his sunken eyes. He pressed at the button with newfound strength, frowning when it wouldn't unlock. Stupid old thing.
It blinded him, momentarily coming back to life.
He called.
“Heya,” she paused. “Ha! Gotcha. You reached Dess’ voicemail. Leave a message after this sick riff.”
The guitar strings got shredded in a thunderous melody until it abruptly cut off–beep.
Pitch black silence.
Asriel's arm went limp. The sky stared back at him, North Star twinkling.
He needed to lay down; he was starting to hear things.