A/N: Trying a new style. A rambly oneshot of Asriel/Marisa inspired by The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies. However, it is not a songfic. Enjoy.
Goddammit.
A loud groan echoed through the cluttered bedchambers, echoing off tousled sheets, discarded clothing, broken picture frames and thrown bottles.
A yellowed stain of scotch spilled on the white carpet. A light brush of air through the opened window.
A throbbing in a man's head.
He tossed, turning onto his back, groaning again. An arm, chiseled and formed with a smattering of hair reached out, bouncing off a bed. To coldness.
Should there be coldness?
He remembered warmth… He remembered… Well not much. Through the haze of his booze-induced fog, the pain in his mind, the browning edges of his vision…
Oh, wait.
Her.
Yes, she had been here. All dark hair and golden dresses and soft lips with the heavy scent of alcohol upon them. Still delicious, thick and warm and still sitting in his churning belly like a heavy meal of regret.
But, not regret…
Because regret did not take the form of warm breasts and soft sighs. Regret was not found in deep red nail scratches down his back, or the satisfied warm that might hum in the core of him for weeks. Regret did not take the form of her.
Another groan, bouncing off of ruined furniture that bodies had slammed into. A splintered bedpost, a knocked-over chair. The man sat up, wondering if it had all been a dream.
Was she even real?
He nearly answered 'no', as she was nowhere to be found. Evidence erased.
But, as a snow leopard stretched, rolling off his shirt to show the red lipstick staining his collar like a scarlet letter, he knew.
She was oh so very real and he could still taste her on his lips. And he must find her again.