Work Text:
Dear December,
Asriel stared at the two words he'd written down almost an hour ago. He sounded desperate and utterly foolish. He ran a ragged line through it, but then decided to crumple the paper and tear a new one out of his notebook instead.
Dear Dess,
As soon as his pen lifted, he realised he'd messed up the r embarrassingly bad. Asriel groaned. He slid down his bed and sat down on the floor instead, with a new blank page in front of him.
Sup girl,
He actually had started scrapping that one before he'd even finished writing it down. He closed his eyes, stretched his arms far over his head and took a deep breath.
Dearest December,
I'm not really sure why I'm writing this. I think I'm in love with you. Actually, I do, I'm in love with you. You know you're my best friend, right?
He'd decided he would just take out the scrapped lines later, as he didn't like wasting perfectly fine paper just because his stupid brain couldn't figure out the right words to say. He'd edit it later.
Obviously you know that. You're my ride or die and I'm yours. We know this. But truthfully there's something I haven't told you.
His eyes moved up to the sole frame on his bedside drawer. It was a picture of Kris, Dess, Noelle and him performing on stage. They all looked so happy, jamming out together. Asriel looked at Dess in the picture, completely in her element, just her and her guitar and nothing else in her little universe. Their younger siblings were sitting at the piano; Kris deeply focused on their instrument, face hidden away from the crowd behind them, and Noelle sat oppositely, singing at the audience with a radiant smile, not a speck of stage fright to be detected. His gaze then slid to his own self, standing nervously behind Dess. Picture Asriel was smiling. Nothing but the two of them in his little universe.
Remember our first gig with our siblings? We hadn't even practised, and Noelle and I were two nervous wrecks. But you were so excited, and you had so much faith in us.
Noelle actually got over it as soon as Kris allowed her to sit next to them, but me… I could barely stand on my two feet in front of the whole town like that. I thought I was hiding it pretty well but, you knew. Of course you knew. You bumped your side against mine and didn't move away until my body had stopped shaking. I tried to be subtle again but, I'm sure you noticed I only stopped doing that when looking at you. As chaotic and insane as you are, you've always been my comfort, Dess.
He bit his pen for a few seconds, then laid back on the floor, pondering. He stayed like that for a little while, though soon he was rolling onto his stomach, determined to finish this letter.
Okay, I actually don't think I can put this to words like a normal person. How about another language we both speak?
Day in, day out
All is one and the same
A life as still as a quiet lake
Until the wind blows
For a wave is nothing without its push
And it feels things it had never felt before
And it can't describe that feeling
But it knows it can never return to laying still
The wind and the wave now move as one
A quiet life shall never be
For life needs motion, and motion brings life
For the wind craves to pull, and the wave shall always follow
He liked writing poetry. It was something he rarely shared, his poems were his window into his own mind. Kris had probably read some of his scribbles before, he realised, though did not mind. The bad ones were hidden away where they'd hopefully never find it, anyway.
Though looking at this one, it still felt incomplete. Or more so cowardly, he realised. Asriel tapped the pen against his puffed up cheek once, before adding;
I sometimes feel like a stagnant flower waiting to wilt away in this forsaken town.
But with your hand steady in mine, the wind can take me anywhere. With you, I bloom.
December Holiday, I am desperately in love with you.
Asriel looked at it again, as a chill ran through his spine.
I sometimes feel like a stagnant flower waiting to wilt away in this forsaken town.
But with your hand steady in mine, the wind can take me anywhere. With you, I bloom.
December Holiday, I am desperately in love with you.
… There had to be a better way to do this. There had to be a way to word this that wouldn't make him want to die before even handing the letter off. He'd finally figured out his feelings after years of confusion, but somehow was still unable to speak on it. Everything he wrote felt too dramatic for how easy being with her felt, yet it also could never actually encompass how deep these feelings ran.
Nothing was good enough, not for someone as special as December.
He turned the page over, carefully starting over. Again.
Hi Dessie,
I've been meaning to tell you something, but we both know I'm an infamous coward. Writing this letter might be the bravest thing I've done all my live. That sounds really dramatic, actu
“What are you wriiiiiiiting?” Dess asked, a little out of breath from —apparently— climbing through his window unnoticed.
“Holy cheese and crackers,” Asriel shrieked, his blood pressure rising as he pushed his pages under his bed. “D, you can't scare me like that!”
“Is it another of your pooooems? Let me see, let me see!” She sat down in front of him, anticipation burning in her eyes.
“It's nothing!”
“Come on, man. Don't be so boring!”
Asriel sighed. “It's, uh, a song I'm working on for the band. I can't share it yet or I'll curse my creative juices to dry out or something.”
Dess put her hand on his leg as her eyes lit up. “… You? Writing us a song?!”
“We don't even have to play it—it's stupid, nevermind, let's just forget all about it.”
“No, no, Azzy, I'm just surprised,” she started thumbing circles through his fur. “Positively surprised. I would love to play your song, silly.”
(Great, he thought, now he had a song to make, too.)
“What's it about?" Dess then asked, curiously eyeing the crumbled pages under the bed. Asriel pushed them further away.
“… Paper waste.”
“That's so punk rock.”
She smiled, in a way he'd realised he only ever caught in private, when it was just the two of them. It comforted him.
“You'll be the first to hear it,” he promised.
Dess' smile grew wider, “Duh! So, any chance your… creative juices need any refreshing?”
Asriel tilted his head in amused confusion, “Why would a juice get a refreshment, Dess?”
“Are you saying that just because it's a juice it doesn't deserve any refreshment itself?!”
“I'm not saying it wouldn't deserve it. I'm just questioning the logistics of—”
“There are no logistics!” Dess put her two hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Fuck’s sake, man, I just wanted to go to the diner with you.” She then got up, as if she'd already decided what his answer would be. Asriel looked at the crumpled mess under his bed. He quickly grabbed all of it and crammed it into his bedside drawer. He hadn't finished it yet, but he knew he'd find the words eventually.
“Of course, m'lady,” he smiled, knowing she hated that term, and climbed out the window with practiced ease.
“Ew, don't call me that, you dickhead.” She playfully pushed against his side, and he pushed back with a loud chuckle.
“Sooo,” Dess started, followed by another push. “I know I said I wouldn't, but last night I sneaked out to the shelter again…”
She pulled his arm, excited to reveal her newest breakthrough, and he followed with a content smile.