Work Text:
You feel something grab hold of your ankle just before swampy earth gives way beneath your feet. You don't see it, but you can feel pinpricks of discomfort pressing through your sock, into your skin. That's hardly your first concern as you fall into the dark. Clods of wet, warm earth invade from all sides. The ground closes up above you. You shut your eyes before swampy muck can drip over your eyelids, your lips, and begin to trickle into your ears. All you can hear is the beat of your own Soul.
Then, the voice.
"Don't you remember this?"
Your gasp stutters in your throat, hidden behind your teeth. You try to breathe in through your nose and you smell water, you smell earth, and it presses against your lips. There’s no air. You don’t open your mouth. You can’t. You have to hold your breath under water… under mud. Light blooms. You see it even through the shield of your eyelids. Red. It’s all red.
"We were so close, once. You and I."
The voice sounds… big. It sounds deep. You can feel it around you, coming from all directions, thrumming in your chest. You don’t recognize it. You wrack your brain for a monster who can do this, who would do this- Flowey. Oh god. He can burrow. He can tunnel and he... you didn't think he’d.... He's killed you. Over and over again, but-
You can feel roots, strangely warm, digging between you and the earth. Some are tiny, hairs wriggling over your fingers. Others are thick, curving against your spine, lying over your arm. There are so many of them. You can feel them moving through the muck, pressing in, surrounding you. There still isn’t any air. You think you feel a petal brush your ear, displacing the mud that sticks to your skin, searching for new places to settle. You can’t breathe. You can't open your mouth, and your chest is starting to burn-
“This isn’t the same as having you inside me.…”
What.
Is he talking about?
You don’t understand. You try to shake your head but… even though this hurts, even though you can’t move you feel… strangely warm. He’s all around you, roots clinging, embracing and it almost feels… safe. You can't open your eyes. You can't lift your arms, or find purchase with your legs. You haven’t been this warm since you left the Ruins. Since mom...
"Don't worry. We'll be that close again."
The fear comes back. Flowey’s voice is humming through you. He tries to sound comforting but he doesn’t like you. You know that- you know you shouldn’t trust him when he’s being sweet, and he’s drowned you, he’s trying to kill you but you still feel… wanted. You might die, but you’ll be safe, here. You’ll...
Everything is so... heavy.
Your chest is burning. Soon you'll try to breathe. It's instinct. You'll open your mouth, and mud will pour in. You whimper, involuntary, and feel his petals against your skin. He presses his face, still small, against your forehead.
"Just let go. It's okay. C'mon, C-" his voice cuts off. The petals brush your face as his head turns. “Wait… what…”
Everything feels heavy. It feels like... pressure, and then you feel your soul being called, pulled-
The light against your eyelids is dimmer… cooler.
Roots tremble around you.
"No... NO! I'll KILL YOU, YOU-" you cringe as Flowey's voice rises to a scream. All the roots reach for you. They tighten like sewing thread around your fingers, yarn on your wrists and ankles and everything hurts as he tries so hard to hold on before pressure rips you out of his grasp. Your body hurts and you wonder if he kept some pieces-
The world falls, rights itself. Everything is brighter and there’s air on your face and you gasp like a landed fish on the ground. Cold air hits the mud still clinging to your skin and you don't know what just happened. You can hear Flowey's curses searing the air, and another voice, unhurried, answering with the cold inevitability of the grave.
“-mine, Trashbag. I found them first, every time!”
“yeah, well. posy-ssion is nine tenths of the law, and i’ve got ‘em now. howsabout you make like ivy and creep somewhere else?”
There’s silence then. You try to listen. You dig mud-slicked fingers into the ground, trying to feel if it’s going to collapse again. You feel a slight tremble… and the sound like a retractable power cord being pulled back into its housing. Cloth shifts. Fuzzy slippers shuffle over the ground.
You lie there, shivering, breathing, and feel your Soul return to your body. Fingers, tapered, hard, comb your mucky hair away from your face. Sans sighs, and the hand rests on your back, rubbing a little.
"god, kid. there's gotta be easier ways to make a mud pie."