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"Are you sure you're gonna be alright, Chara?" Asriel asked, looking away from the plants he was watering and at his sibling. As he turned, the water pooled on the stone tiles of the path between the hedges and soaked his bare feet. Startled, he yelped and jumped back, wiping his feet on the grass, caking them with dirt and mud in the process. He balled his hands into fists and shook them at the ground, muttering minced oaths.
A blond mane peeked through a bush. Asgore's body shook with laughter. "You have to wash your feet with a hose before we go inside," he said, shaking his head.
Chara set aside their crutches and crouched, slowly and deliberately, near one of the hedges. The healing from the fall had gone well and their leg was much better now. It felt good to walk around without much help.
"Fret not." They dismissed Asriel's idea with a flick of their wrist. "I will be fine."
Asriel nodded, and started pulling out weeds, Chara helping him. The repetition was soothing. He had his watering can beside him, fitted for his smaller hands. Asgore's watering can was the size of their own head, which was mildly impressive. Chara eyed it from afar warily.
The three of them worked to the tune of roots being pulled out and the clipping of leaves for a time.
"Ah..." Asgore seemed defeated.
"Father?" They were still not used to regarding the Dreemurrs as their parents: not that they didn't see them as such, but they had some difficulty accepting that anyone would ever want them as their child.They knew themselves best; they were a problem child, meant to be hidden from the world as to not bring shame to their family. Naturally aggressive and impulsive, they got themselves into trouble time and time again.
Chest aching, they instinctively averted their gaze and bit the inside of their cheek. Chara did not want to be a nuisance to the Dreemurrs... or to any monster, truly: any one of them, no matter how small, had done so much more for them than all the other humans in their life on the surface. The least they could do was not be a burden.
That... that anger, that urged them to hit things, to hurt themselves, to be as ugly and as vile as they felt so the world would make sense at last, reared its head. Their body shook, for a moment. A deep breath, and the smell of mud, the aroma of flowers... flowers and the lingering notes of butterscotch pie, that managed to ground them back to the now.
"One of the flower beds has wilted." Asgore's voice was truly sad, as if he'd lost a friend. "Can you come here, Chara?"
"Certainly, father." They carefully moved over to his side. He cut the dead parts away with gardening scissors. Chara was confused. Wasn't the entire flower bed wilted? Wouldn't it be better to pull it all away from the root and trash it? Why had they been called over if not to help him? Asgore lovingly pruned the plant, revealing the green, lively leaves underneath the brown, dried out stalks and flowers. Chara blinked, and their father smiled at them.
"Sometimes... things are not exactly what they seem." He said, gathering the dead plant parts. "Sometimes, when something... or someone..." He laughed a bit to himself. "...appears hopeless, all they need is a little love, care, and understanding."
After he was done gathering them, he parted two stalks to reveal a small golden flower. Chara's eyes welled up with tears, but they refused to show weakness, even now.
"Sometimes, all it takes for a flower to bloom is just that."
He turned to Chara and hugged them tight. Chara felt... so, so guilty, for being loved at last. For being hurt. For being a child. For being Chara. When they pulled away, there were small wet spots on his sleeve. Asgore didn't bring them up.
He just smiled, patient and understanding. "I love you, Chara."