Work Text:
It started off as curiosity created from boredom.
Reset after reset, Flowey quickly discovered that the concept of infinite possibilities was nothing short of a lie.
People—monsters— weren’t complex creatures with structured thoughts or feelings. They were lines of dialogue, code, ones and zeros that made up the finite number of options contained in that character.
Once you unlocked that dialogue, that’s all Flowey could ever see them as. He began to memorize each set of dialogue, and each reset became more and more familiar and less and less of a surprise.
Over and over again, Flowey had given the people of the underground a happy ending, hoping that the fulfillment would eventually be enough to fill the void where his SOUL should have been.
But those happy endings were never enough. He felt nothing, over and over. They loved him, they praised him, over and over again.
And he began to despise them for it. He despised them for their predictability, and despised them for their repeating code. He had given them happiness; why couldn’t they give him happiness back?
To put it frankly, Flowey was bored. Bored of the same repeating answers that he had memorized. It was boring, and though he decided a while ago he didn’t want to die, he sure didn’t find a purpose in allowing code to repeat. There had to have been more. Something he was missing, a piece of this puzzle that his newfound power of DETERMINATION had brought him.
A thought crossed his mind after one full reset, back in that golden garden. He had been back to this spot more times he could count, he had practically memorized the position of each flower in the garden. He wondered why Asgore was so adamant on keeping those flowers alive.
What good were they doing him, anyways?
When his Father—no, Asgore— entered the room, he asked himself that same question again.
What good was this doing him? The repeating numbers… he knew he didn’t have to follow them. He knew he could break the code, but…
“D-Dad..? Is that you..?” He whimpered, as he had done 100 times before. “I-I’m scared…”
That wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was scared, but not because he was a flower and no longer a monster. No, disturbingly, he was well used to that fact by now. What he was scared of, however, was the thought ringing through his head.
What would happen if I killed him? What would happen if I killed all of them?
He wanted to shake this thought away. He wanted to pluck the idea right out of the closest thing he had to a skull. But the idea didn’t go away; and neither did his curiosity.
“A-Asriel…?” Asgore asked through a breathless whisper. “M-My son? That voice…is that really you? I—I must be hearing things…”
“I’m down here, Dad…! Help me..!”
He didn’t want to do this. He hated this. He told himself his boredom wasn’t worth to kill over…
But here, in the Garden…was Asgore’s most vulnerable moment. An opportunity Flowey could only get once every timeline.
…Did he actually care about what happened to them, anyways? Was there a point in pretending to care anymore? It was getting awfully tiring to pretend to be something that he wasn’t.
Was it so wrong for him to be selfish?
He had to know…what would happen. He could always reset if he didn’t like the outcome, right? And, besides, what other choice did he have? He was the one burdened with the power to turn back time. He was the one who was stuck being self aware! If anything, he’s the victim here, forced to relive the same boring tale over and over again. It was only a matter of time before this happened. It wasn’t his fault it had to come to this.
As Asgore kneeled on the ground and wept, wrapping his arms around the flower, Flowey silently let the man cry.
“Oh, Asriel…I’m so, so, so sorry…my poor son…I promise to never let anything happen to you ever again…”
Flowey waited for the tinge of guilt to pull at his SOUL, but… It never came. He almost laughed. It was so easy to forget that he couldn’t feel.
White bullets circled the king, dancing in the air. Asgore had no time to react, the bullets hitting his SOUL, and Flowey could have sworn he heard an audible cracking noise.
“…Hahh…”
Flowey watched with intense unmoving eyes as the King stumbled back, a hand on his chest. Dust flaked off his fur and escaped his throat with every shaky breath, his form threatening to shatter with every movement.
“What a fool I was…to think my son could ever truly return to me…” Asgore grimaced, speaking in a low, guttural voice he wasn’t sure he had ever heard from the man.
At least, not since he died, anyways.
“What a cruel…creature you are…to imitate my boy…”
…was the last thing Asgore could manage to say as his form finally collapsed into a pile of dust. His soul remained for a moment above the pile, before it cracked and split into a million shards.
The sight was disturbing, to say the least. This must have been what his parents saw before he died— the transition from Monster to dust is not a pretty one, Flowey noted, eyeing the pile of what used to be his Father. It was almost incredible, knowing that those tiny specks held up the mighty form of the most feared man in the Underground. The same tiny specks that made up every creature down there, from the tiniest Froggit to the mightiest warrior. Everything was made up of the same dust, besides him.
Still staring at the pile, Flowey felt nothing. But he sure as hell wasn’t bored. A smile crept up on his face as he realized the new window of opportunities and routes now open to him. It was liberating. He wasn’t trapped anymore. No, this… This was freedom. To be no longer bound by morality, to finally, finally see this world as it truly was.
This world was a game, and Flowey had every right to play it.
He really was an idiot for trying to convince himself otherwise.