Chapter Text
Asriel sighed softly into the flowers that surrounded him, scattering little bits of pollen here and there. Frisk had long since left, finally reuniting with the others to join the monsters on their mass exodus to the surface. It was difficult convincing them to leave--they really had it in their head that they could save everyone… But Asriel knew: he was well beyond that.
Still, there was a large part of him that wanted to join them, but he knew better. There was no way that Asriel would survive out there, much less make it to where the barrier once stood in New Home.
Too much associated trauma. Not enough time before he became Flowey again. No guarantee that he wouldn’t go right back to his old ways.
So he remained in the patch of golden flowers where Frisk fell. The one he had so meticulously kept over the years after they had taken root. He paid no mind to the flecks of gold that were accumulating on his snout, turning his gaze upwards to the skylight from which so many humans have fallen. He wondered if all of them had fallen from that exact spot or if it was just the small handful of Chara, Clover, and Frisk. He supposed it didn’t matter anymore. He then wondered if that particular hole should be covered, to prevent any more falls… Besides Flowey, who would surely kill them on sight, there would be no monsters in the mountain to tend to them after they fell…
There wasn’t much reason to think about that too much, he supposed…
He paced around the patch, waiting anxiously for the inevitable.
He wiggled his fingers, and then his toes. They were stiffer than a few minutes ago.
He folded his hands together, worrying his paws and wringing them furiously. He would miss the prick of his claws, and the feeling of fur beneath his pads.
He'd make various gestures with his fingers, his jaw tightening as it became more and more difficult to move them independently.
Tears welled in his eyes.
He tried to keep moving, but eventually he couldn't even lift his feet off the ground. His toes dug into the soil as if they were roots. His body felt like he was being compressed, arms growing stiff as they smushed themselves against his sides. It felt like the very air was pushing him closer and closer to the ground, until his hands met the earth. His fingers too dug into the soil, and he screwed his eyes shut, tears streaming from them.
After a few moments, he was once again a flower.
Just… A flower.
His head hung low, and shockingly, he found it difficult to lift it.
Either from grief or from exhaustion, he couldn't tell.
But knowing the empty state of his body, it was likely the latter.
And yet, despite his assumption of having no soul, he continued to weep.
Tears wouldn't stop falling from his eyes, flowing down his dusty cheeks, and watering the very soil that he was rooted in. His voice quivered as he wailed. He tried to stop, but the tears kept flowing like a torrential downfall that he could only ever experience within Waterfall. His voice was weak and pathetic as he whimpered and fought back wails.
He could hold his head up no longer, and it fell pathetically into the dirt, muffling his sobbing.
What was wrong with him? Normally, he'd just be able to move on like nothing happened.
But this time was different.
Maybe it was the residual energy from the souls…? But if that were the case, he’d still be Asriel, wouldn’t he? He shook his head, burying it further into the dirt. This wasn’t fair. He hurt so much!
He wailed into the soil for some time, thinking about how he wished he wasn't a flower anymore, how he wished he had a soul so he could join Frisk in the others on the surface, and how he so desperately wished he could just be a child again.
He thought about the time he spent with Clover, and how quaint that was. How much he’d give just to be able to experience that again, with proper love and compassion, instead of that empty void that filled his “chest.”
He pressed his face further into the ground when he thought about the past atrocities he had committed, and the atrocities that he would likely commit going forward. He didn't want that. He didn't want to do that anymore, but he knew himself well, and knew that in no time at all, he'd lose all the empathy that he'd gained in those few sweet moments when he was filled to the brim with souls--filled with love, hope, and compassion.
He didn't want that to be gone!
He wanted to love again, for real!
His sobbing came to an abrupt stop when he heard footsteps approaching. He dreaded the thought of someone seeing him like this… Although if it were Frisk, who likely heard him crying and returned out of pity, he figured he could at least tolerate it.
But those footsteps weren't Frisk’s.
He recognized the sound of those boots.
They were Clover’s.
Flowey froze, his face still planted in the dirt--not by choice, but because he still couldn't lift his head. It was so heavy.
Clover was alive? That was wonderful, that was great, that made him so happy, that--
… How did that make any sense?
There were so many wishes that he’d made when he was Asriel, and held the power of a god. He wished for the Barrier to be broken. He wished for everyone to have a happy ending. He wished for the human souls to have a second chance.
… He’d wished that he could have a soul again.
Regardless, it seemed as though he held more power than he initially thought. The human souls did come back to life. Maybe that's why he felt so exhausted…? Surely, that must have been it. Reanimation did take an awful lot of power.
But still he felt an immense amount of joy, more so than he thought he could have. It startled him a little, just how strong that emotion felt. He did feel in extremes, but this was abnormal.
He could hear Clover searching the flower patch, unable to find his so-called best friend. He stepped around the perimeter, careful to not let his boots crush any sprouts or leaves. After a moment or two, he gingerly stepped into the flowers, ever mindful of his boots as they gently weaved between stems.
Flowey wanted to dip away, to burrow until Clover left. But he also wanted to call for the boy’s attention, get that company that he didn’t want to admit that he craved.
But could he really let Clover see him like this?
And did he even deserve to see Clover again after what he had done to the kid?
No… No! Of course not!
Flowey’s indecision left him paralyzed, and the boy got closer and closer. Soon he stood directly beside Flowey. He could hear the boy kneel beside him.
“Howdy.”
A gentle hand was placed on the back of Flowey’s stem, and he jolted. He still couldn't lift his head. Why did it feel like a ton of bricks…? But maybe this was for the better. He could pretend he was dead, that he was just another golden flower, who’s stem had wilted, or was broken.
“It's me, Flowey--it's Clover!”
As much as Flowey wanted to respond… He remained still and silent. The less life-like he appeared, the more likely it was for Clover to leave, and take his search elsewhere.
However, much to Flowey’s horror, Clover removed his hand from the stem, and scooped both hands around Flowey's face, lifting him off of the dirt. His face and petals were covered in mud, and tears still leaked from his eyes, which were still screwed shut. He couldn't bear to look Clover in the face.
However, as the boy positioned his hands just so on his face, cupping his cheeks in his palms, Flowey found himself leaning into the touch. He brushed his face further into Clover’s palms, covering one eye with his thumb. He whimpered.
“Y’ okay?” Clover asked, genuine worry cracking his voice.
It must have occurred to Clover that he had never seen Flowey cry before. One thumb brushed away tears and dirt. It was oddly soothing. Like when he was a child, and Toriel comforted him after scraping his knee.
The flower shook his head. Although he wanted to pull away, he simply couldn't muster the strength. His head was so heavy, and being propped up by Clover felt strangely nice.
Why did this kid care so much?
He couldn't get attached. He couldn’t sit on this feeling. He knew it was fleeting. It’d fade in time. Clover would get hurt if he let this go too far…
Yet…
His eyes managed to flutter open, and he stared Clover in the eye, those golden orbs wet with concern. The corners were puffy, and his nose was red. It was clear that he had been crying elsewhere--likely from the reunion with the friends he'd made two years ago--and those tears threatened to make themselves known once again. He was so happy, and Flowey couldn’t comprehend why.
The boy smiled, tilting his head to one side, his thumb rubbing Flowey's cheek again, “It’ll be alrigh’, bud…! I don’t got any sore feelin’s!”
“Y-you should! Why are you--”
But that was when Flowey noticed that there was a brown stain at the corner of Clover's mouth. Flowey’s brow furrowed, and he blinked a few times.
“Clover,” he muttered, “What's on your cheek?”
The boy blinked as well, then, using his shoulder, rubbed the stain away on his jacket. He chuckled in an embarrassed way, a smile cracking his lips.
“Had some feisty sliders ‘fore comin’ here,” he couldn’t help but laugh, “They were mighty tasty!”
That was enough to break Flowey out of his state, at least briefly. Soon a smile cracked his lips as well, and a genuine laugh escaped him, low and weak as it was.
“Gosh, you are so strange. You couldn't even wipe your mouth--you can't take care of yourself!” he managed between laughs.
Clover’s smile grew, and his laughter matched the Flower’s. However, the second that Flowey’s laughter pulled his face away from Clover's hands, his head immediately crashed back into the ground, and he grunted.
“Ugh… What is wrong with me…?” he moaned into the earth.
Cover’s hands immediately rushed to his aid once again, scooping him up, this time into his arms. Flowey couldn't help but lean his full weight into Clover's shoulders, heaving a sigh that was almost as heavy as his head felt. He could hear the boy’s heartbeat. A low, soothing drumming against the side of his head. He felt every breath that Clover took. Slow, light, and oddly at ease. Clover’s body was so warm.
Flowey forgot what life was like, he had spent so much time as a flower. Was it bad, or even strange that he wanted to lay in this moment for a while longer, surrounded by silence? To just appreciate the fact that another living being was here with him? To know that, even if his life was over, the rest of the world could go on unfettered?
He had also forgotten what peace was like, and how to enjoy it, rather than groan at how “boring” it was.
“Maybe y’ need some medical attention…” Clover paused, “Or maybe… Botanical attention? I dunno, d’ya want me t’ carry ya?” he asked innocently.
“No--no, you wouldn't be able to.” Flowey huffed. Already, he could feel his roots digging deeper, deeper, deeper into the earth, tightening around debris and rock, swirling this way and that, and making their coils so deeply embedded that he wouldn't be able to be uprooted without the power of machinery.
Clover didn't seem to be convinced however, as he rose to his feet, still holding tight onto Flowey. He gave the flower a light tug, but found that even after a harder pull, he couldn't be removed. The boy adjusted his grip.
“Work with me, bud,” he whispered into Flowey’s petals.
Flowey shook his head. “It won't work. My roots are massively bigger than you could ever imagine.” he chuckled defeatedly, “You’d need an army of Clovers to even get me a foot out of the ground. You’re wasting your time, anyway…”
“How else’m I supposed t’ bring ya t’ my friends?”
“I can still burrow, you kn--no,” Flowey made a sour face, wiggling in Clover’s arms, “I’m not going. I can’t, I--”
“But I'd love for everyone to meet’cha! Yer my best friend, after all!”
Absolute guilt struck Flowey like a lightning bolt, and he stiffened. Face half-buried into Clover’s chest, his eyes widened, and his lips pursed. He so desperately wanted to pull out of Clover's arms, but he was at the mercy of the human.
“I don't think your friends would be highly interested in meeting me--”
“It's only fair!”
Clover cut him off again, and Flowey shot him a glare. Yet, he didn't have the energy to twist his face into something horrifying. Not as if he could, anyway, with his face so smushed into Clover’s body.
“Clover, it'd be better for you to just forget me, okay? I’m not your friend. I never was. You have no idea how much I’ve hurt you.”
It was partially a lie. Out of anyone he’d ever met as a flower, Clover was one he felt he had gotten the closest to. Moreso than Frisk, whom he’d only spent a limited amount of time with. But the rest was true. Flowey couldn’t count the amount of times that he had killed the human, either out of frustration, boredom, or because he thought it’d be worth a good laugh. Clover almost seemed to acknowledge this fact, his face looking horrified for a beat before he put on a weary smile.
The boy’s grip was loosening slightly on Flowey’s head, but the flower didn't slip out of his arms.
“I don't think I could forget ya...”
Flowey grimaced; he knew this was going to be difficult. It was just as hard with Frisk, but at least with Clover it was understandable why it was going to be nigh impossible.
“Listen, just--” Flowey sighed, and his eyes drifted away before they returned to Clover's face. Tears were starting to trickle out of the boy's eyes again, clearly devastated. Flowey wilted at the sight. It was as if he was a bleeding heart, again.
“... Alright, alright. Fine. Just give me a day or two, okay? Come visit me again. We'll see how I feel.”
Clover hesitated, but with a weak smile, he eventually agreed, “Alrigh’. But… Can I stay with ya for a li’l while longer?”
Flowey didn't have it in him to tell him no.
Gently setting Flowey back into the dirt, Clover made sure his face was upwards, turned towards the skylight above them. He then sat down beside Flowey, crossing his legs, and propping himself up with his arms. It was quiet for a while. The occasional bird song echoing down the tunnel broke the silence, as did the odd deep breath or sigh from Clover.
The boy turned his sights towards the flowers, his hands scooping them up now and again to pull them to his face for a smell. He looked them over, studying their appearance, and appreciating their beauty. His fingers were so gentle, and he didn’t dare try to pluck any from their roots.
For once, Flowey didn't mind the ogling at his own kind.
After some time, Flowey had enough strength to lift his head a few inches off the ground, but it was still heavy. He genuinely couldn't figure out why; he never had any trouble holding himself upright, even in his first few hours as a flower. A small strained grunt erupted from him as he attempted, and failed, to straighten out his stem.
“Are ya okay?” Clover asked again, this time with more urgency.
“Not really. Then again, I don't think I ever was…” Flowey replied, “I don't know, my head is just so heavy. I feel horribly… I guess… Burdened?”
Emotions… Guilt… He wasn't quite sure by which, but he didn't want to openly admit it; for now, he could just claim that the entire world was weighing down on him, and that he was bearing all of the woes of the monsters that they had discarded after the God of Hyperdeath released them.
Clover offered him a smile, “Well, hopefully that'll go away soon,” he shifted slightly, moving his knees to one side as he propped up his body with one arm, “Martlet ‘n the others haven't moved up t’ th’ surface, yet. They took a look, but it ain’t like they got a house t’ move into. So… If yer ever lonely, just look fer me in th’ Wild East, or at Martlet's house!”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Finally, Clover decided it was time to go. He said his goodbyes to Flowey and offered him a hug, which Flowey reluctantly declined. He promised to visit again, and Flowey had to hide a grimace at this.
After a few minutes, he was alone again. With his thoughts. With his “emotions.” With dead silence.
He sighed into the surrounding golden flowers, blending in, if it weren’t for his soulful face.
To be frank, he didn't know what to do with himself all alone, even after he regained enough strength to support his own head.
He did claim himself to be the caretaker of the Ruins. No one else would be around to watch over them, with all the monsters getting ready to move out. However, as the Ruins swiftly emptied, Flowey swiftly realized there was really no reason to practice any upkeep. Why bother when no one walked through the catacombs, or even caused any damage to begin with? Who cares if that retaining wall crumbled, or that puzzle stopped working? The only things this housed now were bugs and a few flowers. Bugs crawled across anything without a care about the stability. Flowers didn’t care about the aesthetic of the pot they grew in.
Yet he burrowed from room to room as if on some sort of patrol, taking note of anything that needed to be repaired or updated. Which, frankly, was most of the Ruins. They earned their name for a reason, after all. Even Toriel did a pretty poor job in keeping every corner pristine.
Flowey debated what he could do with all this spare time. He could update puzzles (but there was no one to solve them!). He could fix and improve things (he didn’t need everything to be functional, so what did that matter?). He could cover every inch of the Ruins with various plants… Well, that one at least made some sense. It’d keep him busy, at least. May even blow off some energy.
… Gosh, he didn’t think this through.
Much like he had promised--or rather, threatened--Clover did return after a day, bringing toys and snacks in that bottomless bag he found in the Dunes. There was no point in Flowey trying to convince him that he didn't need to eat, and in fact, he didn't have the heart to tell Clover. Especially when the fruit gummies came out. There was no hesitation to eat after that. Clover beamed upon realizing his “weakness.”
The toys were nice. Most of them were hand carved, even! But a nagging feeling in Flowey’s mind told him that he didn't deserve to have them. They were too nice…
But he played with them all the same, setting up a little village in the middle of one of the larger rooms. While Clover was building a narrative with a sheriff and a town that was introducing monsters into its population, Flowey decided it’d be fun to pretend to be a kaiju that was here to tear the town apart. Clover didn’t appreciate this at first, but got into it when Flowey acted injured after the sheriff “shot” him. The humans and the monsters worked together to defeat the kaiju (Flowey even took the chance to play a few of these characters), but the kaiju had destroyed half the town.
It was a long cleanup session after that, but the boys laughed together as they did, with Clover coming up with other story ideas for the future.
Once again, Clover tried to convince Flowey to come with him to live with Martlet, or Starlo and Ceroba. But once again, the offer was turned down.
Regardless, they played for a few more hours, running through the Ruins without a care in the world. Flowey couldn’t help but recall the timeline where he had lived with Clover and Toriel for a spell. This was so similar to that, it gave him a brief pause, wondering at first if there had been a stray reset. But without the ever-present Toriel looming around the corner of every room, the flower was drawn back to the present.
He pondered if that was where many of his fond feelings for the cowboy stemmed from; it seemed he'd shot himself in the “foot” with that one. It was already difficult for Clover to let go, and now Flowey made it so he himself couldn’t let go.
Gosh.
Clover eventually decided it was time to return home for dinner, and he once again said his woeful goodbyes to the flower. Flowey accepted the hug this time, but kept it as short as he could.
It was two days before anyone stepped foot into the ruins once again.
This time, however, it was Frisk.
They were looking bright and happy, wearing a new outfit that screamed “picked out by Toriel.” Flowey thought to try and hide from them, but he knew better than to try. So, he parked himself in his usual spot, basking in the sun, surrounded by his “kin.”
They waved at him eagerly, grinning ear to ear, and offered him a new toy. Something called a “stim toy,” they said. It was a multicolored slug that made a fun noise whenever it was wiggled. Flowey wasn't sure if he got it right away, but he appreciated it all the same. He couldn't help but wonder, however, why these kids were constantly bringing him toys.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t appreciate it! As he and Frisk sat beside each other, he would clack the slug around with a pair of vines. But what made them think a flower needed to play?
After a while of Flowey fiddling with the slug, Frisk spoke up, “Have you thought about moving to the surface?”
Flowey frowned, shaking his head. He turned away slightly, “I already told you. It wouldn't work out.” He tucked the slug into his roots, where a few of the toys that Clover gave him lay.
Frisk glanced around, a crease hitting their brow. “Are you sure? It seems awfully lonely down here.”
“The monsters were in a rush to move out of the Ruins. I don't know where they are now, but I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?” Flowey smirked a little, “And I'm sure the humans on the surface were really shocked to see all those monsters flooding out of the mountain! If anything, I wish I could’ve seen their faces! Priceless, I bet!”
On their knees, Frisk shuffled closer, leaning forward against their knuckles. “You're avoiding the topic.”
“You said it was lonely,” Flowey snipped, “I'm only agreeing that--” he grunted as he realized this was the wrong thing to say, turning his head to the ground with a sneer.
“So if it's so lonely, then you should join us on the surface!”
Flowey screwed his eyes shut.
“I bet mom would love to see Asriel again!”
“No!” Flowey hissed, his face swiftly shifting into a skull. This didn't even make Frisk flinch, “You don't get it--I'm not Asriel anymore!”
“Of course you are!” they reached to caress his cheek, but Flowey burrowed and reappeared a few feet away.
“No. I'm. Not.” Flowey spat bitterly, “Asriel died almost two centuries ago!” He shifted his face into a distorted Asriel, eyes hollow and askew, with scars littering his face, “His ghost left this forsaken world the second I turned another monster to dust,” his face warped further, almost unrecognizable as Asriel, “It's better for the both of us to stop trying to bring him back, and let him rot.”
“But--”
He shook his head, face returning to its default state--though his expression was frustrated, “It would only cause mom and dad more pain to see me like this! You don't know what it was like when I tried it in the past. They just can't get over the fact that I'm a flower! That I died! That I’m basically a zombie, a shadow, a freak, an abomination!” Flowey inhaled, then exhaled. He tried to relax his stem and roll his eyes, but his roots writhed beneath the ground, “They have you now, anyway; they don't need Asriel OR Flowey the flower.”
Frisk shrank back a little. Folding their hands together over their lap and twiddling their thumbs together, their eyes drifted to the ground, and their lower lip quivered slightly.
Their shoulders fell, but they put on a smile, “Well, what about Papyrus and I?” they asked hesitantly, "You're both our friend!”
Groaning, Flowey shook his head. “I only ever manipulated Papyrus! I used him--lifted him up only because it suited my plans. He doesn't need someone like me in his life!” he turned his sights towards the child, but quickly turned away again upon seeing their crestfallen face, “I only treated you poorly, and any good that came out of my mouth was because I thought you were somebody else. I would have killed you ten times over if I could have gotten away with it!”
“But I'm not angry with you! I know why you did those thi--”
“Look, Mx. Goodie-two-shoes! You don't have to be friends with everyone!” Flowey roared, “I'm not worth your time, I never was! The only thing that would come out of me being your friend is forcing you to constantly reset over my mistakes!”
Frisk jumped, but soon scratched the back of their head with an awkward, slightly strained smile, “Oh. Yeah. About that... I actually can't save or reload anymore.”
A chill hit Flowey's stem.
“I thought it was just from being on the surface, but when I came down here today, I tried saving and loading--but it didn't work.”
Flowey’s eyes widened. He attempted to pull up his menu, but it didn't work. He then tried to make a quicksave, but he couldn't feel that power. Trying to load came with the same results.
Come to think of it, that third presence he couldn't explain was gone, as well. He couldn’t feel its eyes peering down upon him, or its overwhelming power, anymore. With any luck, it listened to his plea once everything was said and done--but that meant it took the power to save with it.
That left them in a very precarious position in Flowey's mind.
It was only a matter of time before these feelings inside of him would vanish, and he would be a malicious flower once again.
That meant there wouldn't be a safety net. That meant if anything went wrong, there was no way to undo it.
If he had a stomach, he would have emptied it on the spot. The news made him feel like he was rotting from the inside out.
A hand was placed on his stem, and he nearly ripped himself off of his roots with a jump. Yelping, he pulled away, eyes wide as he looked up at Frisk's face.
“Are you okay…?” they asked
The room spun around him. The smell of golden flowers was overwhelming. His mind was ablaze, thoughts racing through at a mile a minute. It felt like his petals were going to drop off his head.
“I have to go!” he cried before disappearing into the ground.
“Flowey WAIT--” Frisk’s voice was muffled by dirt.
Flowey had spent ages underground, surrounded by the infinite coils of his roots. They pressed against his body, squeezing him from all around. They tightened around him, tugging at his petals. They snaked aggressively through rocks and soil. Their movements matched the storm that was raging within his mind.
He knew he couldn't be trusted. The only thing that he could think of was how mortified he was that not only would he inevitably return to his old ways, but there was no way to back out of it.
Sure, he could behave while Frisk was in control of the save files, but how long would that last? How long would it take before he finally snapped? It filled him from his petals to the very tips of his roots with an extreme amount of dread. It made him feel sick. Numbness washed over him like a wave.
Although his body cried out for the nourishment of the sun or fresh water, he was unable to move, completely transfixed with fear. There was no way that he could let Frisk or Clover get anywhere near him like this; not just because he was embarrassed, but because he didn't know when the cracks would finally shatter.
He couldn't bear to hurt them.
It was impossible to tell time down here; he couldn't tell if it was day or night, or make any distinction between minutes or hours. It wasn't as if he could just pull up his menu and check the timer--although that had been maxed out for ages, by the time that Frisk took over. He could have been there for mere minutes, or an entire week.
He was starting to get bored.
However, instead of the gnawing boredom that drove him to unspeakable things, this was just a dull boredom that he would feel when he was Asriel, waiting for dinner, or for his parents to get ready for a day out. It was mind numbing, but it hardly felt as painful as it did before he decided to take his first life.
… And he was lonely.
He could go days upon days without any interaction before; just thinking, planning, observing, watching, and waiting for his plans to come into action. But now, he actually craved the presence of another monster--another human. He actually wanted to go and visit Clover at Martlet's, or the Wild East. But he couldn’t just do that, could he?
He wondered if he could potentially drown himself in thoughts, curb at least some of that boredom, and return to his old ways in a slightly better way.
He pondered why he was lonely in the first place, and why he craved the company of those like Frisk, Clover, and especially Chara.
He really didn't know what he saw in Frisk; it truly must have been the presence of Chara's soul in them that drew his attention. As much time as he spent watching Frisk from a distance, he wasn't sure how much he could actually say about them. They were kind, tenacious, and naturally determined, ready and willing to do anything to get the happy ending they needed, or rather, wanted.
He couldn't even put a vine on why exactly the kid wanted that happy ending, and fought so hard for it, across so many resets. Maybe it was just out of the goodness of their heart. Maybe it was because of some desire to be considered a good person. Perhaps if he had spent more time talking to them, instead of just watching, he could have gotten a better perspective.
But they were pleasant. Nice to hang out with. They had a certain charm and charisma that made them naturally easy to be around. It was hard to embarrass yourself in front of someone like Frisk, and that was always a good friend to have.
… He really should get to know them better.
Chara… even though Flowey came to the realization that maybe they weren't as good a friend as he initially thought, he still missed them sorely. For their companionship and their odd sense of humor. Their blunt honesty, the quiet moments where they would just sit together in peace. When it came down to it, they did get along pretty well.
It was just that, in the end, they did use him; their intent was to use him to kill every human in some sort of revenge plan, manipulating him the entire way to get what they wanted. After becoming a flower, he certainly would have gone along with Chara’s plans, gladly so--but they never once asked if that’s what Asriel wanted. If he wanted to see the humans dead for their sins.
… Asriel didn’t want that. He never did. After meeting Chara, he thought that humans weren’t all that bad…
It wasn't as if he could ask, but it did feel like Chara’s intent was never to actually befriend Asriel. They simply wanted to manipulate him the entire time...
His roots tightened. He didn't want to think that way. He didn't want to taint any remaining positive memories of his original best friend! They had fun together! They played, they learned, they talked, and they shared secrets. There was no one who knew and understood him better than Chara did!
But they were dead, and there was nothing that Flowey could do about it. They didn't get resurrected like the other souls, and perhaps that was for the better. Much like Asriel, Chara needed to rest in peace.
He wondered if maybe their souls were finally together in the afterlife.
…
Then there was Clover. It was hard to tell, but perhaps he had spent more time with Clover than Chara across all those resets--not to mention those months he had spent pretending to be Asriel in Toriel's house. Playing with Clover in what he had first considered an attempt to figure out what made the kid tick. In what was originally meant to be a short stay before he attempted to push the boy out of his comfort zone, or tried to absorb his soul.
Before, there were many times when Flowey absolutely hated Clover, mostly because it was hard to coerce the kid to do exactly what he wanted. Clover got distracted, and was easily drawn in by kindness. So willing to hand out kindness like candy in return, befriending every monster that came his way. Very go-with-the-flow. A people pleaser. A stupidly strong moral compass, quick to shoot down anything that he considered unjust. He was a bit like Frisk in that regard, but he lacked the determination to see things through to the very end.
And even when he did give into his violent urges, Clover never went that far--at least, not to Flowey's recollection. “That ain’t just,” he would say, “Not every monster’s a murderer, I’m sure of it…” never pushing anything beyond self-defense.
But there were times where Flowey questioned the flashes of a boy wearing a bandana over his mouth, his eyes obscured by the shadow of his hat, looking almost like a bandit from one of those corny Western movies. Covered in dust. With Flowey staring down the barrel of a well-worn gun, laughing hysterically until the trigger was pulled--
But they were never that vivid, and Flowey wondered if they were even real; if they were simply visions, or his imagination running wild. There were similar images of Frisk in his head, but he knew that could never happen, they were far too much of a goodie-goodie to commit that much murder!
But despite whatever negative feelings passed through him about Clover, he couldn't say that he truly despised the kid. He exercised a massive amount of patience with him. Some of the encouragement he gave was even genuine! Now, with everything said and done, Flowey could admit that he rather enjoyed the time he spent with Clover and Toriel. That he even wanted to do it all over again, if given the opportunity.
… It was nice being free enough to think that way, and at least he had a few positive emotions associated with the little cowboy.
He was fun to play with. More fun than even Chara, as difficult as that was to admit. Fun to talk to, fun to read with, fun to mess around with. As well as he got along with Chara, as well as they knew each other, Asirel was always burdened with the underlying need to hide his more emotional side around them. Not with Clover, however. They were both so at ease around each other, it was a bit surreal.
Overall, he felt like he craved the presence of Clover the most. There was almost a kinship there, as if they had been brothers the whole time--similar to how he and Chara were once considered siblings.
Clover couldn't be a replacement for Chara--no, never--but the more he thought about going to visit Clover, the more he pined for it, the more desperate he felt. The more he actually wanted to be brothers.
His roots would slowly loosen around him, disturbing the dirt and freeing his face.
The thought that the desire to kill would, inevitably, return made him not want to move.
Yet…
He gingerly peeked out of the ground, peering from the patch of flowers and lifting his roots to the surface, feeling out the Ruins to make sure that nobody was around. It was just as empty as he had left it before.
He lifted his entire head out of the ground and sighed as the sun hit his face. Gosh, that felt good.
He sat for a little while, basking in the rays and absorbing the warmth. He could feel his roots and petals perking up. The ground was a little damp; it must have rained recently. His mind cleared a little, and the decision became far easier: he should go and pay a visit to Clover. Even if it was short.
It made him realize that it was better for him to take care of himself. That it was easier to think and focus when he wasn’t wilting.
… It was hard to feel like he should care. That he deserved it. But if it kept the violent urges at bay, he may as well try and keep it up.
After a few hours, the sun passed through the hole in the mountain, cascading Flowey in shadows. The sky was starting to turn an orange color, and the chirping of birds slowly tapered off, leaving him with the sound of crickets. Evening was here.
He may as well get moving. At worst, he’d interrupt the start of dinner.
He would first check Snowdin and Martlet's house, which was a much shorter trek.
It didn't take long for him to arrive at the foot of the wood cabin. He always thought it looked a little silly with how patchwork it was, but it was one of Martlet's earlier creations. She had done it all by hand--or rather, by wing--with the help of Chujin. It was any wonder it was still standing years later, but perhaps that was a testament to the actual quality of her work.
He stared at the door for a while. He could hear Clover and Martlet talking inside. He almost felt jealous for a beat.
Taking in a deep breath, Flowey huffed and reminded himself why he was here. A brief visit. To get that tiny bit of interaction that he needed. Then to leave before Clover could get too attached.
A vine appeared at the base of the door, but just as he went to knock, the knob turned and the door swung open before he could so much as dive back underground.
There stood Clover and Martlet.
The boy’s eyes widened as they fell upon the flower. His jaw dropped, and his bag, which was slung over his shoulder, fell to the ground with a thump. His feet pounded against the dirt path as he sprinted Flowey, sliding on his knees just centimeters away. He immediately threw his arms around the flower.
“Where’ve ya been, bud!?” he cried.
Flowey wasn't sure how to react first, stiffening within the boy’s arms. He felt a pang of guilt at the base of his roots, and despite himself, he unfurled some vines and gingerly wrapped them around Clover's back. “I guess I was having a bit of a hard time,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle. “How long have I been away?”
“A couple’a days,” Clover admitted, still not pulling away. “I was gettin’ so worried about’cha-- I couldn't find y’ anywhere!”
“Sorry.” Flowey muttered into his shoulder.
“Is this the friend you’ve been telling me about?” Martlet asked. He could hear her stepping closer.
Finally, Clover pulled away, but still kept one hand on the flower's stem, “Yeah! This here’s Flowey. He's my best friend!”
Martlet stared at Flowey for a moment, who gave her a slightly strained smile. Surprisingly, there was a frown on her beak, instead of that signature friendly smile of her’s. She tilted her head to one side, trying to prevent a crease from appearing on her brow. Flowey’s smile faltered, growing worried that she somehow recognized him--but she soon smiled brightly.
“It's so nice to meet you!” she chirped, lowering herself to her knees. She offered a wing, “I'm Martlet, and somehow I wound up becoming one of Clover's caregivers!”
“Heh! Even Clover had enough sense to not try and shake hands with a flower!” he laughed. Martlet’s expression turned embarrassed, but he summoned a thornless vine to shake her wing, “Nice to meet you too.”
“We were just gonna head towards th’ Wild East fer dinner,” Clover hummed, "D’ya wanna come with us?”
Flowey blinked, “Uh. Sure! Why not! How about I meet you there?” He put on a strained smile again, “It's a little bit easier than trying to keep up with you two above ground.”
Clover frowned at this, apparently disappointed, but he nodded, “Sure, see ya in a bit, bud!”
“Safe travels!” Martlet sang.
Flowey quickly dove back underground before they could say anything else. He wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking he’d find, but to be frank, he should have expected that. Like, if he went to Martlet's house, why would he be surprised to see her there? Maybe he was just hoping he wouldn’t wind up with extra interactions… Being seen by another monster would make slipping away even harder than it was going to be with Clover on his own!
And now he had even more on his plate, given how populated the Wild East was on a normal day. He could only imagine there was going to be some sort of party, and Flowey wasn’t sure how mentally prepared he was for something like that.
He was starting to have second guesses and doubts once again; however, it was much too late to go back on his word. Clover already saw him, and the kid would likely go and find him in the Ruins, and try to drag him all the way through the Underground by hand. Mistakes were made! And he couldn’t just reset and try again! How did normal people live?!
Flowey burrowed towards the Wild East and waited for Clover and Martlet at the edge of town, his mind churning alongside his roots.