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It was a beautiful day outside.
The bright blue sky contrasted pleasingly with the few white clouds drifting overhead.
The weather was perfect, warm enough to be comforting but not sweltering.
Birds were chirping.
Flowers were blooming.
A wonderful day for an outdoor wedding.
Guests craned their necks to watch as the bride made her way down the aisle.
Toriel was stunning in her pristine wedding dress, her veil’s intricate lacing hiding her eyes from view.
She clutched a magnificent rainbow bouquet against her stomach, careful to hold it exactly as her bridesmaids had instructed before her walk.
The flowers were eye-catching in their vibrant colors, each fully bloomed for this special day.
Asgore had grown these flowers for this very occasion, pouring all his effort into making sure they would be ready to be held in his future wife's hands.
As he watered and tended to each one, he spoke to them as if they could hear him.
He spoke of his bride-to-be - her personality, her beauty, and just how deeply he adored her.
The golden flower of the bouquet was one Asgore had been particularly proud to display today. It had taken far more effort and care than the others to thrive, but the extra work had been worth it.
Its petals gleamed beautifully beneath the sun, the rare coloration standing out among the other blossoms.
Asgore would never know how that golden flower watched as he tended to their stems, watched as he watered their soil, or listened eagerly as he spoke to them.
He would never know how much that golden flower had come to love him.
Flowery was certain of it.
Without a doubt, this was the worst day of his life.
He watched in silent agony as Toriel drew closer to the altar where Asgore waited patiently.
He looked stunning today, his freshly pressed suit fitted perfectly to his broad frame. His hair was brushed back from his face, emphasizing his strong jawline and his beautiful blue eyes.
Beautiful eyes filled with pure love.
Love that would never be directed at Flowery.
This was torture.
Asgore looked so happy.
Why couldn’t he be happy for him?
He knew why.
He wanted to be the one walking toward that altar.
He wanted to be the one standing on the other end of that lovestruck smile.
An unattainable dream for a flower.
He knew it was impossible, and yet he couldn't stop the incessant yearning itching in his soul.
Sometimes he caught himself wishing flowers couldn’t dream.
The other flowers in the bouquet seemed oblivious to his silent despair, content on the last day of their lives.
They all knew what awaited them after the wedding.
Wedding flowers were a one-day plant. Why bother putting in the effort to keep a fragile accessory alive after it has served its purpose?
Asgore had done his job raising them, and they’d all fulfill theirs by the end of this day.
Toriel held the bouquet a little closer to her body, inadvertently pressing the yellow and blue flowers in the arrangement together.
Flowery could hear the mute breathless giggles as Blue and Yellow’s petals nestled against one another.
He should feel happy for the pair.
And he was, even if the bitter taste of jealousy made his own petals curl in anguish.
Yellow and Blue were lucky to have found each other in such a short life.
To the flowers, the pair were proof that happiness was attainable, even in such a fragile existence.
A happiness Flowery knew he would never truly find.
He knew that for certain as Asgore leaned forward and pressed his snout against his newly sworn wife’s.
_______________________
Against all odds, the flowers continued to live the day after the wedding.
And the day after that.
And the weeks after that.
All because Asgore hadn’t given up on them.
He had tended them daily, making sure each flower thrived under his meticulous care in his flower shop.
He kept each of them separated beneath individual glass cases to ensure they would continue to flourish.
Yellow and Blue hadn't taken their seemingly permanent separation well.
They were placed a good distance apart, with Flowery and Aqua unfortunately positioned between the two.
Flowery tried to get Yellow to see the bright side of the arrangement.
At least Blue was still within his line of sight.
Even separated, they could still bloom where they could see one another.
He could tell Yellow appreciated the optimism. The poor flower had a habit of becoming depressed far too easily.
So Blue and Yellow settled for pressing their petals against the glass of their enclosures in a fruitless attempt to be even an inch closer to one another.
The other flowers were simply just happy to be alive after the wedding.
Flowery would have said he was too, if Toriel's visits to Asgore's shop hadn't been so frequent.
He had been so sure the wedding would be the worst of it.
He had been wrong.
So painfully wrong.
If anything, the newlyweds were leagues more affectionate than they had been on their wedding day.
Toriel would rise onto her toes to press a quick kiss to Asgore's lips in greeting and another before she left. Flowery was certain the lingering ‘kisses’ clipped years off his already short life.
She would rest her head against Asgore's chest, her gaze drifting over each flower's glass case.
"Not even a single withered petal. How do you do it?"
Asgore chuckled, wrapping his large arms around his wife and pulling her impossibly closer.
"They do the hard work. All I do is give them the essentials."
That wasn’t true.
Indignation burned in Flowery’s core.
Asgore researched the perfect soil for each of them. He bought grow lamps and adjusted each one to suit every flower's needs.
He nurtured them daily. He spoke to them, read them stories, treated them like living beings instead of decorations.
He did more for them than any other monster or human ever would.
And it was because of that love and care that he was still alive and not rotting away at the bottom of a trashcan.
Alive.
Alive to watch Asgore and Toriel's fingers intertwine.
Alive to watch Asgore lift their joined hands and press a gentle kiss against the back of Toriel's hand.
Later, Asgore would fret over Flowery's sulking form, confused as to how one of the golden flower's leaves had withered so suddenly.
Flowery endured.
He wouldn't let Asgore's hard work go to waste.
He'd endure it all for him.
Even when Toriel would stop by to smother Asgore in kisses, even when they had their first child - a perfect combination of both of them. Even when they adopted their second child - a human baby that looked nothing like them but they cherished just as much as their first.
He continued to bloom.
The other flowers bloomed as well, eager to live beneath Asgore's gentle, ever-loving care.
Just as Flowery had reluctantly settled into this new normal, something changed.
He barely noticed it at first, too accustomed to the married couple's overflowing affection for one another.
Toriel hasn’t been stopping by as much.
That was all.
The first change was hardly even worth attention and yet it was only the beginning.
Asgore set up a corkboard in the back of the shop where the flowers were kept. Red string connected photographs and newspaper clippings in a confusing web.
He would stand before the display for hours, mumbling under his breath as he looped another strand of string around a thumbtack, connecting one Polaroid to the next.
Something big had happened.
Eventually, after days of painstakingly piecing together scattered bits of information, Flowery gained a rough understanding of the corkboard's tangled web of red string.
A girl had gone missing.
And Asgore felt responsible.
Even with only a vague understanding of the situation, Flowery knew with certainty that Asgore wasn't to blame.
But the opinion of a voiceless flower would never be heard.
So the golden flower had no choice but to sit behind his glass case and watch as Asgore spent hours tracing routes across a map of the town.
Watch as the bags under his eyes grew as the days passed.
Watch as his normally gentle voice turned clipped and irritable.
Toriel's visits grew less and less frequent and it wasn’t hard to glean why.
Her rare appearances at the shop were nothing like the domestic scene the flowers had been used to.
The atmosphere was tense whenever they stood near each other, and a faint sense of frustration laced every word Toriel spoke.
There were rare days when the two would act ‘normal’ - a small kiss and a kind smile when they greeted one another.
But those days became only more scarce as time moved on.
It wasn't until Toriel stopped showing up altogether that Flowery sensed a deep change taking root in Asgore's life.
Flowery perked up inside his glass case as Asgore trudged into the room, looking far more downtrodden than usual.
The gardener stood in the center of the room, a misty glaze in his eyes as his gaze swept over all the flowers. He quickly turned his head away, hiding his expression from the eyeless audience.
Flowery could sense the growing agitation among the other plants, his own unease heightening theirs.
The golden flower so badly wished he could grow vocal cords and whisper gently, What's on your mind, GoreGore?
Suddenly, as if the monster had heard his voiceless plea, Asgore's gaze settled on him.
Flowery stiffened - as much as a flower could - under the attention.
With an unmistakable air of despair, Asgore's face twisted in misery as he choked out, "Torie wants a divorce."
The words hung heavy in the air
Flowery ‘blinked’
Had his petals picked up the vibrations of Asgore’s words correctly?
Can a flower hallucinate?
If so, this was certainly a selfish fantasy he had conjured up.
“She…” Asgore paused to swallow roughly, “She says we’re both unhappy where we are.”
That was when it hit him.
This wasn’t a lovesick delusion.
Asgore would never sound so heartbroken in any of his fantasies.
In an attempt to be even a little closer to the slumped monster, Flowery strained his useless stem, trying to push even a nanometer closer against the glass.
“She thinks it’d be easier on Kris…it isn’t good for them to hear us fighting.”
Flowery felt horrible for the gratitude he felt toward Toriel.
In retrospect, some sort of separation between the two had been inevitable. The bitterness in their stares, the genuine anger in their voices as they argued over the smallest things - it was all another straw on an already buckling camel's back.
The glee rising up his stem mixed horribly with the bitterness of his guilt.
He shouldn’t be feeling this happy when Asgore was crumbling right in front of him.
This didn't bring him any closer to his dream.
Not any closer to having Asgore look at him the way he had at Toriel on their wedding day.
Yet, against all reason, hope brightened his golden petals.
“This is…temporary…after we spend time apart, we’ll both cool down and she’ll rethink this…”
Oh Gorey, I so desperately wish she never does.
If this was indeed permanent, Asgore shouldn’t be too heartbroken.
Because it was only a matter of time before he’d realize he wasn’t truly alone.
He still had his flowers.
He still had him.
I’m never leaving, big guy
Even when the day comes when my petals wither and my stem bends, you’ll still have me.
I’ll stay
_________________________
Time continued onward, unyielding for anything or anyone.
And with its endless march came change.
Asgore now slept in the shop - the flowers had eyelessly watched as the large monster had dragged in a bare mattress through the shop's side entrance.
Toriel hadn’t changed her mind.
Flowery should feel sympathy, or, hell, even pity, yet the only emotion coursing through his veins was happiness.
Glee shook his petals - unnoticeable to the naked eye - as Asgore slept under his lovesick watch.
However, there were downsides to Flowery’s self imposed nightly watchings.
Some nights -most nights- Asgore wept, his large frame trembling until his own misery exhausted him enough to fall asleep.
How Flowery wished to rip his roots from the soil beneath himself, break the glass barrier separating him for the world, and cradle the man until his cries ceased.
How he wished to card his leaves through his hair, pull him close to his stem, and lay his petals on his head.
Do everything he had seen Toriel do.
If only he had hands to interlock with Asgores, lips to plant a chaste kiss on his furry cheek, arms to hold him close as they rocked slowly to a slow ballad playing from the shop’s radio.
Each muffled sob, each hiccup, felt like someone tearing off his petals.
This was a new form of torture.
He’d curse his immobile body as Asgore faded into blissful sleep, none the wiser to the self hatred festering in his golden flower.
The others longed to comfort their caretaker as well - shower him with their care and love the same way he had and continued to shower them with his.
None were blind to the melancholy in Asgore’s stilted smiles as he routinely spritzed water over their soils. Or those moments where he’d pause his nightly storytellings to sit in the pure silence of his shop, eyes unfocused as he stared at everything and nothing.
Those moments frightened them.
Nevertheless, Asgore’s care for them knew no bounds.
He tended to them routinely, determined to keep them living.
Everyday he’d talk to them as if they could respond, not knowing how badly they wished they could.
“What do you all think? Will these ones win her back?"
Asgore’s perfect smile widened as he held up a beautiful bouquet of Cécile Brünner roses.
Uh, I reckon not.
Uuu, I think she’d like it if you surprised her with a game instead!
She didn’t like the last bouquets, so I doubt this one will work.
Your acts of love are true and pure from your heart, yet she has made it clear hers will forever be blocked off from any unwanted advances.
I hope they don't
Flowery could feel the other flower's startled attention on him.
Damn, he hadn’t meant to think that so loudly.
Pushing as much positive energy out as he could, Flowery scrambled to save face.
You don’t need her to be happy, old buddy!
You’ve got us.
Asgore wasn’t even looking at them anymore, preoccupied with smoothing out the wrinkles in the bouquet’s floral wrapping.
He’s right! We love you way more than she does…right?
Uuu, right! Right! Right!
Flowery loved all the flowers, each held a precious place in his ‘heart’.
They were his family.
Yet, he had always held a deeper affection towards Orange.
The sweet sensitive flower had always been his little defender.
His sweetest little sister.
He could feel Blue’s worried ‘gaze’ on him.
Blue had always been more attuned to each flower’s emotions, scarily knowing when it came to their feelings and desires.
Flowery was guilty to admit he was grateful he hadn’t been placed next to the observant flower.
“I’ve just gotta keep trying.”
Asgore’s melodic voice pulled his attention back to him.
“We were so happy together…we could be again…”
Thousands of selfish thoughts flooded his small fragile body - thoughts he was now careful not to let the others sense.
She’s moved on, why do you keep trying?
You’re so stubborn.
So kind that you’ll only end up hurting yourself.
Stop trying.
Move on like she has.
But stay with us.
Stay with me.
“Come on little ones, let's give it our best shot.” Asgore smiled warmly down at the bouquet in his hands.
Flowery couldn’t help but feel sick for the sweet satisfaction he felt once Asgore returned to sleep on the mattress that night.
____________________________
Weeks passed by in the same routine.
Asgore would tend to them
Talk to them
Read to them (Much to a certain flower’s delight)
Come up with new bouquets to ‘win’ back Toriel
And he would finish each day by sleeping beneath their watchful ‘gaze.’
And Flowery was content with this lulling cycle.
This was the closest he’d ever be to his dreams, his fantasies.
Even if nothing more than a flower, he could still keep Asgore to himself.
They could all keep Asgore in their short fragile lives.
Asgore tossed and turned on his mattress, unable to sleep tonight.
It wasn’t particularly unusual. Some nights, he would get up, grab the keys to his truck, and drive off, eventually returning in the morning to open up shop.
So when the large monster rose from his bed, Flowery wasn’t surprised.
That was, at least, until Asgore made his way over to him.
If it were possible the golden flower’s breath would have hitched as Asgore shuffled closer and knelt in front of his glass.
Flowery could only watch in complete confusion as his glass was lifted off to be set gently down nearby.
Then Asgore leaned closer.
So close, in fact, that Flowery could feel his warm breath against his petals.
Slowly lifting a finger, Asgore gently stroked one of his petals in a featherlight caress.
“You’re still as beautiful as that day,” Asgore whispered, his gaze distant and full of a quiet, faraway yearning as he tenderly brushed his petals.
Flowery preened beneath his touch.
If Asgore accidentally crushed his petal between his fingers, Flowery wouldn’t mind one bit.
If his fragile body died right at this moment, he’d die unbelievably happy.
“Still so vibrant.”
All because of you, my king.
My love.
Flowery so badly longed to lean closer into his touch.
Asgore's gaze remained distant, his eyes filled with love.
He was looking at Flowery the same way he had once looked at Toriel.
As if he were Toriel.
“Do you remember that day?”
I’d never forget the worst day of my life.
“You all were proof of our love…”
“Even if it never lasted you all did…you all thrived when it withered.”
“Thank you for not leaving me…”
Like she did
The words went unspoken, but Flowery knew exactly what Asgore really meant to convey.
I’d never leave you
Asgore’s fingers dipped further down his petals, brushing against his stamens.
If Flowery could, he would have melted into the touch.
“So delicate.” A finger traced his anthers. “So fragile. It’s no wonder flowers are symbols of love…”
If only you knew how much love a flower could feel
Flowery’s mind buzzed, his pollen staining the white fur of Asgore’s finger.
“If only…”
If only
“...things could go back to the way they were.”
I weren’t born a flower
“But that’s just wishful thinking.”
Definitely
“I hope you all stay with me a little longer.” Asgore smiled a painfully gentle smile at him before casting a glance toward all the other flowers in their glasses.
The others, silent witnesses to Flowery’s ecstasy, perked up at the small plea.
They all loved Asgore just as much as Flowery did, in their own ways. Given any other choice, they would choose to stay as well.
His attention returned to Flowery. Asgore gave his petals on last caress before moving to stand.
Flowery would have begged and pleaded for Asgore’s touch again in a heartbeat if he could.
But he couldn’t.
He had no mouth.
No vocal chords.
He was still a useless flower.
A useless flower that Asgore thought was beautiful.
A flower he thought was a symbol of love.
And...
Flowery had to be content with that.
He had no choice but to sit in his glass case and yearn for his attention.
For his touch.
Flowery could only hope in his next life, he wouldn't be born a flower.
That he and Asgore would meet again, and he could finally be the one to take care of him. To feel his fur beneath his fingertips. To meet his gaze with his own eyes. To speak to him with his own voice.
Until then, he’d survive.
He would push this weak body to its limits to stay with Asgore for even a second longer in this life.
Asgore needed them to be here for him
Needed Flowery to thrive under his care.
And so he would.
Even if it was torture to sit and do nothing but watch as Asgore’s life passed him by.
Even as a voiceless flower, he would be there for him.
He’d do what Toriel couldn’t.
He would stay.