Work Text:
Flowey’s roots coiled around themselves just under the surface, disturbing the bricks that surrounded him. He glared adamantly at Toriel's house, having watched Clover decide to stay with her for the thousandth time.
Well, to be more accurate, it was probably the 48th or 49th time, but they had been at it for so long that it felt as though they had done it tens of hundreds of times. Through hundreds of thousands of attempts. After millions upon millions of resets.
To be frank, Flowey didn't get it. What was the appeal? Staying with that stubborn old woman to live a boring life--suffocated, loved, and cuddled until your head exploded! That was hardly an interesting life by any means.
Yet Clover chose it every single time, without fail. Unless Flowey did something to intensely influence that kid's decisions, he'd sit himself down on Toriel's floor, listening to her read for hours. He'd help clean up the ruins. He'd spend his downtime exploring, with Toriel never too far away. He’d play with the neighboring monsters, and live out his short, meaningless life within these dull, dusty walls.
Flowey sneered. What an idiot!
However, he didn't bother to reset right away, and he didn't particularly feel like pursuing one of his various tactics to coax Clover out of his overly comfortable state. Instead, he sat in Toriel's front garden underneath the blackened tree, whose leaves were nearly depleted. He stared up at the old home, feeling oddly weary.
The resets with Clover were, frankly, very few--especially compared to the sheer number that Flowey did on his own time. Yet dealing with this kid made him feel almost exhausted. Were all humans like this? He was glad he wasn’t around for the rest of them…
Clover was too soft for his own good; skilled to be certain, but too young and inexperienced to tackle the entirety of the Underground on his own. Especially when facing monsters with whom he couldn't decide whether or not they deserved judgment and justice.
So Flowey couldn't help but wonder: what exactly did Clover see in this dull, stagnant, boring life that he wanted to stay with Toriel so badly? Perhaps if he stuck around and watched for a while, played along with this dumb little existence, he’d finally understand, and he could better guide Clover through the Underground.
He hadn't done this in so long. In fact, he couldn't remember how many resets ago he had last pulled this trick.
But he put on his old face, the one that belonged to Asriel. He wore a distressed expression, and his petals wilted at his command.
He cried out pathetically in his old voice, “H-hello…? Is… Is anyone there? P-please…!” His whimper carried across the dull purple brick, “Hello?!”
The door opened, and Flowey only perked slightly. He saw Clover had answered the door, with his hat removed, but still in his strange Wild East costume--or rather, Wild West. He didn't care to keep the differentiation in mind.
The child stared at him with wide eyes, a look of concern washing over his features. He turned into the house, and called for Toriel, saying that there was a monster asking for help. She appeared in the door almost instantly, but she didn't immediately fly to Flowey’s aid, instead taking on a stern expression as they locked eyes. Flowey continued to look as pathetic as possible, forcing a few tears to leak out of the corners of his eyes.
A strange expression replaced that stern glare, which soon faded, taken over by a look of worry. Adjusting her shawl on her shoulders, she rushed into the courtyard and down the stairs.
“Mom?” Flowey called immediately, wriggling in place, “Mom! Mom!! Is that you?!” he whimpered again, “Please! Help!!”
Toriel froze, her face stricken as if she had seen a ghost. If she had any color beneath that fur, it would have drained away.
Flowey perked up further, dragging all of his acting chops back into action, “Mom, it's me! Asriel!” A strained gasp could be heard from her as he continued, “P-please, Mom--help! I-I don't know what's going on…!”
Finally, something clicked, and Toriel ran to his side, falling onto her knees and wrapping him carefully into her embrace. She showered him with love, affection, concern, confusion, and questions, all of which he had experienced a multitude of times before, and reset over time and time again. It had been a while since he had last practiced his monologue with Toriel, but as always, he pulled it off flawlessly.
“Why are you a flower, my child?!”
“I-I don't know! I just woke up this way! I wanted to find you, and somehow wound up here!”
“My dear, dear Asriel, it has been so long…!”
“How long? Where have I been…?”
“I do not know my child… But what matters is that you are here now…”
She would caress his cheek, give him a gentle kiss on the forehead, and fuss about how he's rooted in place, giving him time to “figure out” that he could move from place to place underground, all without upsetting the earth beneath him. It played out about the same every single time, and even if it had been a while, he could still recall her next move from memory…
… But this time, there was Clover. He was watching on from a short distance, staring at the pair with an eye that almost glinted with jealousy. Flowey shot him a glance, and with that, he was quickly getting the picture.
Regardless of any jealousy that he held, Clover approached carefully with a smile, and Toriel wasted no time introducing her son to the new child she had adopted into her life.
“I did not think this would happen today,” Toriel admitted, inviting Clover over with an outstretched arm and drawing him to her side, “However, it appears as though my little family is coming together once again…” tears in her eyes, she pulled both Flowey and Clover into her chest, her finely trimmed claws on the backs of their heads.
After he was freed from the hug, Flowey decided to throw a wrench into the works, “Mom,” He asked, “Where's Dad?”
Toriel stiffened, sucking in her cheeks. She couldn't look the flower in the eye briefly, “Your father is… Elsewhere,” she explained stiffly, “It will be just me for now.” She threw a smile at Flowey, “Asriel, I do hope you understand…”
“Not really…” Flowey lied, still feigning his innocence.
Before Flowey could continue, Toriel stood, nearly knocking over Clover with the sudden movement, “L-let us head inside, for now. I am currently baking a pie,” her paws were already moving towards the front door, “After which, we can read, and perhaps you two can play, and get to know each other.” With that, she vanished into the house.
Typical Toriel.
Clover hung back, offering Flowey a smile, “So… Your name’s Asriel?” Flowey could tell, by his body language, Clover was desperately trying to resist the urge to hold out his hand for a handshake, “It's nice t’ meet’cha! I'm Clover!”
“Nice to meet you, too! Howdy!”
Clover couldn't help but laugh, “Wow, y’ got a southern accent like me! But, y’ talk so proper!”
Flowey grinned, “Well, I got the accent from my dad, I guess--but my mom was always pretty strict about it! ‘Ain’t is not a word, dear. Please say it properly!’ And stuff like that!”
Clover’s expression became perplexed, but the conversation was cut short.
“Come along inside, children!” Toriel called, “The pie is nearly ready.”
Clover started to run for the door, an excited grin planted on his face, “C’mon, Asriel!” he called, waving an arm in the air, “Th’ pie smells so good--I can't wait!”
Flowey hung back a little, feeling empty as usual. The exchange made something stir within him, but… It was the same as always: meaningless.
But deep down, there was something that made him hope that with Clover around, there’d be a change. That’d he’d feel something more than usual. That a human could somehow make the difference.
He doubted that.
Pushing the feeling deep down, Flowey made his way inside, taking root in the middle of the living room. The house was the same as always, extremely tidy, with the smell of home cooking deeply embedded into every floorboard. Warm, monochrome, and simple. Just how Toriel liked it.
While they waited. Clover perused the collection of books that Toriel had on the shelf beside her chair. Flowey, meanwhile, got caught up in drinking in the surroundings. It had been ages since he last bothered with Toriel, and ages since he had last seen the interior of the old house. He would feel things now and again--a trickle of warmth at the base of his stem, or something tingling in the back of his head--but these were usually fleeting and passing. This time was much the same.
He couldn't help but sigh.
“So, what do y’ like t’ do for fun?” Clover suddenly asked, causing the flower to jump.
“Oh,” Flowey blinked, actually having to think about it.
What was it that kids normally did?
What did he do for fun in the past? He thought about running around New Home with Chara, collecting flowers, and doing other stuff. Usually getting into trouble with his adopted sibling… Playing games, reading in silence…
He spent so long as a flower, it felt like he completely forgot what normal people considered “fun” nowadays. Flowey’s current idea of fun would make others appalled.
“I like things like hide and seek, and tag! I used to play pretend a lot too. But, uh… What do you like to do?”
“I love playin’ pretend, too! ‘N all sorts o’ games!”
Flowey put on a sly grin, “Great! I bet you love pretending to be a cowboy!”
Clover laughed, “I am a cowboy! I put my hat in th’ room Toriel gave me, but it’d be heaps more obvious if I was still wearin’ it!”
Toriel entered the room with the pie held in a pair of oven mitts. She gave the two a smile.
“Have you got any other cool cowboy accessories?” Flowey asked in a knowing way.
“Oh yeah!” Clover hummed, “I got this cool toy gun!” He pulled it out of the holster on his left hip and spun it around. It was bright and flashy, and clearly made out of plastic.
Toriel gasped loudly, the sound making Clover jump. A guilty look washed across his face almost immediately, and the goat rushed over to pull the toy out of his hands.
“Children should not have weapons like this!” she cried.
Clover swallowed dryly, huddling himself. His face turned down, while his eyes gazed up at Toriel, wrought with guilt.
“S-sorry, Ms. Toriel…” he muttered into his kerchief.
Toriel realized what she had done, and lowered herself to the boy's level, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Oh, now… I am not angry with you, my child... I am certain that you brought this simply to protect yourself. But do not worry; you will not need this anymore. I will keep you safe.”
Clover nodded, his brow knitted, and lower lip bitten.
Flowey almost wanted to laugh--but deep at his roots, he felt a little bit guilty. Clover wasn’t very much fun to get into trouble, it seemed. The kid almost looked like he was going to cry! And not because he got his toy taken away!
Standing tall, Toriel shuffled back into the kitchen, “Allow me to get plates, and then we can eat. Alright?”
When she was just out of ear shot, Flowey whispered to Clover, “Sorry, bud! It looks like I got you into trouble for that one…”
Hugging himself a little tighter, Clover shook his head, putting on a weak smile, “Naw, I should’a known better... I really won't need it no more anyway. I don't think monsters are all that bad…!” his smile grew, a little more genuine this time.
However, Flowey couldn't help but frown, having to hide a twitch in his brow with a tilt of his head. This kid really was predictable… Unfortunately, with a little bit of kindness, Clover was as docile as a puppy.
Toriel soon returned with the plates, setting them out for the three of them. She debated placing a plate on the floor for Flowey, but he demonstrated how he could stretch his stem and roots out to reach the table, and use a pair of vines like hands. Toriel was impressed with his ingenuity, completely ignoring the fact that these things came with an immense amount of experience.
Clover was the first to dig in after some words of thanks--Flowey thought saying grace was so pointless, now--and Toriel couldn’t help but laugh at the child’s gusto. It didn’t take long for the pie to vanish, and for Clover to hesitantly ask for seconds. He squinted his eyes shut while waiting for Toriel’s response, as if expecting a harsh rejection. But that harshness never came, as Toriel went to fetch him a second slice with a smile.
Flowey dug in as well, but much slower. The pie was delicious as always, filling him up with warmth that ebbed down his nearly endless roots. It was nice, comforting, and nostalgic, but the feeling continued to be as hollow as ever. It didn’t mean anything anymore. It was just a nice feeling, and nothing more.
It was just as pointless as a flower eating.
As he lowered his fork to the table, Toriel couldn't help but take notice of his melancholic face.
Once again, a paw caressed his cheek, and she gave him a warm, gentle smile, “Do not worry, Asriel. All will be fine, and we will figure out how to cope, I promise.”
He merely smiled at her in reply.
When dinner finished, Clover was the first to collect the plates and carry them into the kitchen. Just as he grabbed a stool to reach the sink, Toriel rushed in and gently pulled him away.
“No, no, my child!” she reprimanded with a laugh in her voice, “You do not have to do the dishes; that is my job. It would be much more fun to go read a book with Asriel, would it not?”
Clover seemed to hesitate once again, his eyes wide and almost full of wonder as he stared up at the goat. He eventually smiled and nodded, running into the living room to grab a book that had caught his attention.
Lying on the ground beside Flowey, he started to read a fictional book about a snail who went on an adventure. Flowey had heard this one hundred times.
… Still, he listened to the child read it aloud, smirking whenever Clover struggled with a word, or put on a strange voice for a character. That thick southern accent of his sure gave it a new flavor.
Toriel settled down in her chair, watching and listening with a smile in her eyes, and her paws folded over her lap. After a few chapters, the boy grew tired, yawning and rubbing his eyes with his little hands. It didn’t take long for his words to slur, and for sentences to merge together.
Getting out of her chair, Toriel suggested that the two go to bed, as it was getting late. Clover obliged without any argument, and Flowey followed along silently.
Toriel led them into their room to wish them a good night, fretting over the fact that she didn't have a bed for Flowey. But he explained with some exasperation that he didn't need one; he couldn't even lie on it if he wanted. She wasn't exactly satisfied with this explanation, but she wished them good night regardless, turned off the lights, and closed the door.
They lay in silence in the dark for a while until Clover groggily broke the silence.
“Let's play hide ‘n seek tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
Flowey didn't need to sleep. He didn't need to eat either, but he still did now and again. So he lay awake on the rug, staring at the ceiling that was littered with glow in the dark stars. They didn't glow as strongly as he remembered, perhaps from them being so old. Still, he found some enjoyment out of their shapes, and recalled pointing to the exact location he wanted them as Asgore stuck them on. He would jokingly place one in the wrong spot, and little Asriel would laugh, give him a nudge, and correct him. They made and named their own little constellations, and Toriel would hum pleasantly as Asriel explained them to her…
… Ugh.
Eventually Flowey heard Toriel turn in for the night. With free reign to the house, he started to wander around the halls out of morbid curiosity. He tried to find where Toriel hid Clover's toy gun. He checked the cupboards in the kitchen, Chariel, and the various dresser drawers that littered the house. He couldn't find it until he finally decided to check Toriel's room.
When he confirmed that she was sound asleep, he found it locked away in the desk beside her bed. He contemplated stealing it, to see how Toriel would react to it missing… But he eventually decided to leave it in its place, thinking about how Clover nearly had a meltdown upon Toriel catching him with it.
It was almost as if he didn’t want to get Clover in trouble--but did he really care? Face scrunching up, he shook his head and locked the drawer back up. Whatever, he could try this again in another reset, if he ever bothered.
He eventually returned to his room and lay awake on the carpet, simply thinking about things; planning any possible actions and future resets. He wondered how he could get Clover to decide not to stay with Toriel without getting rid of her entirely…
Despite Flowey cutting that line of thought short--somehow unable to imagine a full timeline without Toriel present at the end of all things--he decided he had to prevent the kid from encountering Toriel at all. But how?
The morning came, and they had a simple cereal breakfast. Clover and Flowey played hide and seek around Toriel's house, hiding amongst the leaves, behind the tree, and anywhere in the house that Clover could safely fit. The lad complained the faster that Flowey found him, convinced that he was somehow cheating. Flowey merely smiled brightly every time, laughing the more exasperated Clover got.
Eventually getting bored of the game, they hunted down snails later that afternoon, and Clover picked some flowers. They read into the evening hours, and had a nice snail dinner that Clover was apprehensive of at first. They continued to read the snail adventure book until Clover could read no more.
Flowey actually fell asleep that night, if only for a few hours.
The next day, Toriel decided to take them to some of the few remaining shops around the Ruins, quickly realizing that she needed more food to feed Clover and Flowey. She kept a tight grip on Clover's hand as they walked from shop to shop, and it was tempting to call her out on this, saying that she was too coddling--but Clover didn't seem to mind. Flowey merely rolled his eyes, glad that he lacked any hands for her to hold. Clover was pretty tired after all that, and he turned in early after supper. Flowey was annoyed being left alone, but he stayed up and read one of the old books he loved as a child.
It didn’t have the same impact as it did back then.
He eventually turned in when Toriel told him it was getting late. He didn’t care to argue, and settled himself back on the rug in his shared bedroom. He lay there for a while, mind wandering, until he realized something: he had never actually asked Clover why he came to Mt. Ebott.
What a strange omission, across so many resets.
Flowey tilted his head ever so slightly, his petals folding gently against the carpet. He stared at the bed across the room and eventually called out, “Clover, you still awake?”
It was quiet at first, for long enough that it made him think that Clover had indeed fallen asleep. So he laid back down once again, staring distantly at the ceiling. However, he heard Clover slowly roll over in bed.
“What's up, Asriel?”
“Can I ask you a question? I've been wondering something.”
“Sure,” the boy yawned, shuffling around in bed.
“What made you come to Mt. Ebott?” Flowey asked, lifting his head. Although there was no way Clover could see it in the dark, he wore an expression that read as curious, but concerned.
He could hear the boy grunt as he groggily rubbed his face, “Can y’ keep a secret?” he asked. When Flowey responded in the positive, Clover gave a little sigh.
“I don't think Toriel would much like to hear this…” he sighed again and rolled over onto his back, folding his arms behind his head. He, too, stared at the stars plastered to the ceiling, “When I heard ‘bout th’ humans that came here over th’ years, ‘n how they went missin’...” he paused, “I wanted t’ know what happened t’ ‘em. I mean, as the legend goes, ‘anyone who goes to Mt. Ebott never returns.’ I was itchin’ t’ find out why.”
Flowey blinked. He knew that many humans had passed through the Underground before his time as a flower. Perhaps they would have been able to live out their lives here--or maybe they could have left--if it weren't for the fact that Asgore demanded that they all be killed upon entering the Underground… Or if humans hadn’t trapped monsters here in the first place.
“How many?” Flowey asked innocently.
“‘Bout five. As far as I know, anyhow. Th’ last one was about a year, year n’ a half, before I came here. Dunno how long ago th’ others were. Some of ‘em were well, well before I was born.”
Flowey frowned, learning he had just barely missed encountering another human.
There was a bit of silence, but eventually Flowey broke it, “Do you think they died?” He tried to hide the sinister intent behind his question. He also had to resist the urge to expose everything to Clover here and now, while wearing the creepiest expression he could manage. Could have made for a good laugh. Oh well.
“That's what I'm here t’ find out,” Clover muttered. He rolled back over, facing Flowey once again, propping his head up with one arm, “Maybe they jus’ died from the fall. Or maybe they made new lives here--it’d’ve been long enough for th’ first kid to be a senior or whatever, but…” his fingertips fiddled with the edge of his blanket, his eyes utterly distant, “B-but if they were killed by the monsters down here… Well…” his head fell back onto the pillow with a thump, “I brought a gun for a reason. Thought maybe I could provide justice for th’ lives lost.”
“Golly! Would you really kill someone?” Flowey asked, feigning shock.
Clover shook his head, “I’m not thinkin’ I could do that now, even if the humans were killed…” he rubbed his eye again, yawning, “I read th’ history books in Toriel's room. I know ‘bout how humans forced the monsters Underground… ‘N all for what? ‘Cause a monster could… I dunno, maybe absorb our souls?” he sniffled a little, proving the topic was quite heavy for him, “Don’t sound like justice t’ me…”
“Pretty harsh ‘judgment,’ if you ask me…” Flowey added.
“Yeah…”
There was a long pause.
“Don’t you want to go home?” Flowey asked, his voice quieter than before.
“... Nah. I’ve… I’ve uh… Moved on.”
Sounds like his home life was just as bad as Flowey assumed. He wanted to press further, but Clover’s vague answer said it all. He didn’t need to push it--not now.
Flowey lifted his head further, “Do they teach humans about the history of monsters in school on the surface?”
Lifting his head a little, Clover frowned. His expression fell further, and he rolled over to put his back towards Flowey. The boy let out a heavy, heavy sigh, and eventually replied, “No, they don't.”
That was the end of that conversation, and neither of them spoke about it again.
He was somewhat satisfied with that response; he at least knew full well why Clover was here, now. He settled back down, and let his mind wander again, until he was unconscious.
Flowey slept through most of the night, but woke up early to wander around the ruins. He contemplated killing some of the Froggits bounding around in the leaves, but somehow, it didn't feel right this time. Perhaps it was best to not be covered in dust during this run.
Clover convinced Flowey to play cowboy in the afternoon. He had to admit, it was pretty fun, using his vines as a mock gun, and acting like the big bad bandit in town--having stolen all the horses (represented by shoes), and holding the sheriff’s best friend hostage (a teddy bear). But the entire time, it was tempting to kill Clover as Toriel watched on in horror, firing a real bullet from a vine, straight through the boy’s heart. He’d laugh and laugh as Toriel wailed, stealing the boy’s soul as he avoided an onslaught of flames… His roots soaking up the blood as it seeped slowly into the soil.
But like his feelings of nostalgia, that feeling passed as quickly as it came. The almighty sheriff took down the evil bandit, and they finished the snail adventure book after dinner.
Flowey slept quite soundly that night.
The next morning, Clover was the first to wake up, and he gave Flowey a gentle pat on the cheek.
“Wake up, Azzy! Toriel said we could--”
Flowey woke up with a start, “What did you call me?!” he snipped a little harder than he anticipated.
Clover was taken aback, his eyes wide, “Sorry… D’ya hate bein’ called that?”
Flowey himself had wide eyes. After years, so many resets, and losing himself within the void, he hadn't expected to be called by his old nickname, much less by another human. His insides twisted, and he felt utterly conflicted.
It almost felt good to be called that.
But it also felt wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.
“Sorry, I guess not.”
Clover smiled meekly, folding his hands together, “Well, I'll try to remember, then.”
“... What did Toriel say we could do?”
“R-right! She said that we could explore th’ ruins together, as long as we stayed safe!”
Flowey resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that she would still be just at the edge of each room, “Sounds fun!” he chirped.
After breakfast, the two boys set out on their little adventure. Clover ran from room to room, with Flowey in close pursuit behind him. They looked in every crack, explored every cranny, and squeezed into every hole they could find. They even went deeper into Home, the remnants of the old city that monsters once filled.
Flowey was right; Toriel was always just out of sight, but he could sense and hear her. She was within reach, should something happen--if Clover were to tumble into something too deep for him, or if Flowey were to suggest something a little more mischievous. All the same, Clover had a blast running around every inch that was available, greeting various monsters, and rolling around in piles of leaves.
Flowey almost felt the same. He missed that sense of wonder, of being able to play around without a care in the world. Not worrying about the end of the day, or the future of monsters, or some intricate plan he’d been weaving for goodness knows how long… It was nice to let go of all that, at least for a few hours. Yet he found himself falling behind Clover.
None of this mattered; it still felt hollow.
I didn't feel the same as before. When his name really was Asriel. When both of his parents lived together. When he was still innocent. When Chara still laughed, genuinely, before the light left their eyes…
It never did, and he knew it never would. He lacked the soul for it to feel absolutely right.
However, he was conflicted. There was a warmth inside of him that he hadn't felt in so long--a warmth that he certainly never felt as a flower. It was enough to put a genuine smile on his face, to make him give Clover a proper response, instead of dry sarcasm, or forced saccharine.
Clover was nice to hang around. It was like Flowey’s time with Chara.
… But nicer.
Calmer, without worrying about getting into trouble all the time, or without worrying about looking good as part of the Royal Family. It was just having fun as a normal kid.
… Was he even still a kid at this point? Maybe.
He let himself feel this way for a little bit longer. He knew that the feeling would vanish before too long, but a few more days wouldn't hurt.
And yet, those days turn into weeks. Those weeks somehow morphed into months. If Toriel didn’t keep a mental note on what day it was, all that time would have utterly merged together. With each passing day, Flowey told himself that today would be the reset, that he’d finally try to take Clover’s soul, that he’d finally move on… But…
He allowed himself to fall into the rhythm of a boring life, doing mostly the same things every day. Toriel started her “teacher” schtick, and Clover ate it up. Flowey only ever half-listened, providing answers to questions that he should never have known, impressing Toriel, who once again, was ignoring the obvious.
Clover learned how to sew. He learned how to cook. He helped clean, keep order in the Ruins, and made friends with every single monster he could.
The human was ambitious and adventurous, but the Ruins were small, and didn't provide very much to do. He loved reading, but Toriel only had so many books, and Flowey had already read them so many times himself.
By the looks of it, Clover would take years to want something more. Flowey… Didn’t have the patience for that.
Rolling through the leaves, inventing new games, and planting new flowers only went so far--Flowey was finally starting to get bored.
… He indeed allowed himself to enjoy that monotony.
But it wasn't what he wanted.
As he lay on the rug one night, staring up at those same stars he stared at every night, he knew that there was more. He had a bigger plan to break out of this blasted mortal form that he was cursed with--to stop being a flower, to stop being empty, and to have all the power that he ever wanted.
… But it was fun pretending to be “nice” and “normal” for at least a little while. All he had done in resets before was act cruel. It was about time he mixed things up again.
He looked over at Clover, who was content and asleep, breathing slowly underneath the colorful quilted blanket he had made with Toriel. Flowey then glanced at the blanket that the pair made for him, which was much smaller, but just about perfect for his flower form. He looked back up to the stars and heaved a sigh.
It was almost tempting to leave things like this, and let Clover have his rest. To have a worry-free childhood locked up in these Ruins.
There was a similarity between the two of them; that at some point, their childhoods had been robbed of them. It was glaringly obvious, even on the first day that Flowey stayed here, with how Clover insisted on doing chores that he didn't have to do, being surprised when he wasn't required to fix something, or do a grueling task that needed to be done. There was clearly something broken there. It was no wonder why he was so keen on staying with Toriel. Each. And every. Time.
She let him be a child.
She gave him all the love in the world.
She let him have fun.
Flowey closed his eyes.
He had to keep them locked on the prize.
Just one soul away.
He lifted himself off the carpet, extending his stem and roots to tower over Clover. Vines unfurled from the floorboards and surrounded the child, snaking around his bed. They lightly disturbed the covers, and shuffled the sheets ever so slightly. Clover stirred gently, a tiny grunt escaping him. But he did not wake.
It would have been so easy to kill him here and now.
Vines and thorns crept closer and closer to the sleeping boy, but they stopped mere centimeters away. Clover hadn't noticed. He was probably dreaming about sunny days on the surface. About riding a horse around fields of growing corn. About eating pie with Toriel… Or about playing games with “Asriel.”
Flowey withdrew his vines.
Not this time.
“Sweet dreams, bud.”
> FILE 1 LOADED