Chapter Text
Asgore was busy. Of course. Obviously. What else would he be? Ha! He had too much to be working on for any sort of other adjective to describe him properly.
He needed papers. Needed a lot of them. Flowery didn’t…
Well, that would be a lie. He knew what for. He’d known it for years, watching Asgore pace back and forth with binders and strings and newspaper clippings, taping things to the wall and tearing them down the next day, writing furiously anything he could think of that might possibly have to do with ThatDay.
Asgore was pacing now, the same way. Flowery didn’t mind. The pacing was better than the alternative, those days when he simply wouldn’t get up from his bed. There had never been a way to reach him, then. Even on frustrated days Asgore would pause to talk to or water them, but in those depressed days it was simply silence. Unshakeable, insurmountable silence.
Yeah. Flowery liked pacingdays better.
Usually he was fine with it. And today was part of that usually! Obviously. Why wouldn’t it be?
His head… hurt. For some reason. He didn’t know why. One minute he was talking with Asgore, the next he was standing off to the side, and his head hurt. Unclear what that was about.
Flowery smiled. It wasn’t quite as smooth as usual. “Anything I can help with, Goregore (My king!)?” he asked pleasantly.
Asgore was staring. He’d stopped pacing. Pacing. Where had he gotten pacing from? Asgore had been standing in front of his desk all this time. Ha! Classic Flowery. Mixing things up. Strange things happening in his head.
"Some time without distractions,” he said finally. There was something there. A tone, or a quaver, or something to his voice.
Flowery had absolutely no idea what that was about, so he continued smiling. “Right you are!” he agreed.
There was something there, as well. A different somethingthere. What was it, what was it…
Aha!
“I’ll get you some more of those papers you need, oldbuddy! And after that, howsabout we hit the Diner, like old times?” There we go. That’s what it was. Nothing could be wrong if they were at the Diner with some good old Orange Juice!
Asgore continued staring. Flowery continued smiling.
“Alright,” Asgore said slowly. Flowery gave a cheerful salute, then paused as his Bestfriend continued hesitantly. “…Flowery.”
“Yessir!”
“You don’t… get hurt, do you?”
Odd question. The headache in his head said yep, yes I do, thanks for noticing. It also said man, I should lay down for a while somewhere dark and cold and without any light or noise for hours, or maybe just see if Yellow’s onto something and bury myself alive. There was also maybe a whisper of hey this sucks and is weird maybe Gorey knows something about this with his leading questions and mysterious demeanor, but that wasn’t a Perfect Bestfriend thought, now, was it?
He continued smiling.
“Ha! Classic Gorey,” he laughed. “Of course not.”
Asgore smiled back. It wasn’t as smooth as his usual, either.
“Good,” he said slowly. “That’s… a relief to hear.”
Flowery thought maybe he heard the slightest bit of why? behind the sharp pounding in his head. He smothered the thought with a vengeance he usually reserved for weeds and just kept smiling. Must have been the mysterious winds. They were always popping up in inconvenient places.
Asgore didn’t say anything else. Flowery turned and left with a cheerful farewell.
(He didn’t let himself stagger until he reached the next room)
---
Mmm. Sand. Sand was nice. Flowery liked sand. Had he liked it before? Probably. He had to have. It was so so nice. Very nice. Would Asgore maybe like to sit in the sand with him?
No, he had… was busy. Very very busy. So busy. The busiest of all people ever.
Mmm. Was sand usually this cool to the touch? He liked it. It felt nice. He could lay here forever, thanks.
“-ery! Oh, no, nononono- I done kill’d ma pardner-”
Oh, hey there. That was a voice. Flowery knew that voice, for sureness. Absolutely. Just as soon as the white noise in his head cleared he’d figure that one out all perfect-like. Certainly.
“-ain’t deservin’ ta be a Justice, I’m a filthy murderer, the worst kinda criminell ta be-”
Boots paced in front of Flowery’s face. Boots with spurs on them, the kind that rattled against hard floors when he walked but were softened by the sand of his room. The spurs were gold, but the boots belonged to someone who wasn’t. Was close, but not exactly.
“-gotta find some kinda punishment for a crime of this magney-tude!”
Aha. Yellow. Flowery smiled. Triumph! He’d figured it out.
…Aha. Yellow. He knew that tone of voice, too.
Flowery had limbs. He was absolutely certain of it. To demonstrate, he used said limbs to hold himself up in a sitting position. For about ten seconds, before hitting the ground again. Ow. Jolty, much? Not a fun thing to experience. Ouch.
It did let his eyes focus a touch more, which was nice. He traced his way from the cowboy boots all the way up up up to the face connected to it. Veryyyyy distantly. Why was Yellow so tall, again?
“‘Ello,” Flowery managed. It could have been a greeting, or it could have been a name. Who's to say? He sure didn’t know. All he knew was that his throat was dry and ached, like he’d shoveled handfuls of sand into his mouth. Had he done that? He couldn’t have. It wouldn’t feel anywhere near as pleasant as just laying in it did.
“Flowery! You's alive!” Yellow cried. Boots spread into a startled crouch, sand sliding underneath him as he bent down down down to come almost face to face with Flowery. “Goodness, I-I-I thought I’d killed ya! You’d tell me if I killed ya, right?”
Of course, Flowery thought. The words would not make it past the desert in his throat. He settled for a shaky thumbs up. Why was his hand shaky?
“Oh, good- good good, I- I ain’t a murderer-” Yellow stammered. Then, in true Yellow fashion, he froze, his face tracing familiar guilty patterns. “Oh, I been ramblin’ about myself this whole time ‘stead of helpin’ you, haven’t I? Golly, I- I’m sorry! A-are you alright? Can I help with anythin’? Should I go get someone?”
Flowery gave a dismissive wave, smile fixed on his face. “Fine an’ dandy!” he chirped. Attempted to chirp. Aforementioned sand thing. Ow. Why was there so much sand in his mouth? “Wha’ happen?”
Perfect. So suave. He was so good at everything.
Yellow froze again, this time his eyes scanning Flowery with an atypical but characteristic sharpness. “Ya don't remember?”
Mmm. Remembering was neither here nor there.
“Y-y-y’ walked in, all normal-like, askin’ if’n I maybe wanned a spar.” Yellow shifted his weight back and forth nervously before coming to a similarly atypical decisiveness and sitting down next to Flowery. The tallest flower by a large margin folded in on himself like a crumpled tablecloth, all gangly limbs and lanky posture and he wrapped his arms around his legs and his tail around both as he explained. “Of course I said yes, y’know, wantin’ practice ‘fore my show, a-a-and you seemed like y’ needed a break from somethin’… I-I-I shoulda called a stop to it when y’ started gettin’ all wobbly but ya just kept on insistin’ we keep goin’-”
There was more being said. Probably. Yellow’s mouth kept moving, so that was indication something was probably being talked about still.
Flowery couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear much over the sound of static in his head, the kind that came from Asgore’s old TV on nights when the antennas simply couldn’t be angled the correct way despite hours of trying. Where was static even coming from? He wasn’t anywhere near a TV. And good thing, too, ha! He liked those boxes just fine, but only from a distance. There would be too much going on if there was a TV Darkner in a Flower Castle, wouldn’t there?
…Hmm. Okay. Sand was getting less and less nice to lay in the longer he laid in it. Flowery should stand up. He could do that, right? Stand up? Easy. He did it all the time.
Ready? Go! One, two, three, and-
Whoops, that was Yellow. Right there. Good news, Yellow had the reflexes to match his theme, so no collision course happened, yay. Bad news, Flowery’s limbs were not functioning the way they were meant to, so he was being awkwardly propped up by Yellow’s grip on his arm instead of standing under his own power. Great. That was great.
“Woah there!” Yellow yelped. The cowboy held up his hands in a startled jolt, which was also just great because that involved letting go of Flowery, so. Back to the floor it was. That was fine. He liked the floor just fine. “O-oh, no, I- I’m sorry! I kill’d ya again! I-I-I’ll go get Blue an’ he can fix you right up-”
Ah. Nope. Nope nope nope. Flowery was not at all present-like in his body at this exact moment, but he knew what would happen if Blue was called to the scene.
He hopped to his feet in a burst of energy. “Hey hey hey! No need for that, old pal! (No no no!) I’m a-okay!” He was tempted to spin or pose to prove his point, but the world was doing that fast enough already, so. No need for that, either.
Yellow was giving him a Look. Not quite suspicious, but a Look nonetheless. Probably one he’d learned from Blue. “You’re awful wobbly righ’ now, pardner.”
“And being dizzy’s a crime now?” Flowery asked with a laugh turned cough. It was sharper than intended. Balanced out the dull throbbing in his head, ha.
“W-well now, I guess it ain't…” Yellow picked at the brim of his hat, conflicted.
“Eeeeeeexactly!”Flowery nearly gave him a thumbs-up, but his arms were exactly where they needed to be (held out for balance while the world continued revolving at uncomfortable speeds), so he settled for a winning smile. “Say hi to Blue for me!”
If Yellow agreed, or said anything else, his head was filled with too much white noise to hear it.
---
Flowery had things to do. Papers to find, flowers to check in on, heroes to watch for, worlds to keep alive, Bestfriends to help, so on and so forth. Not as busy as Asgore, no, but somewhere in a distant second place, maybes.
(Ha. Like anything was as important as Gorey’s work)
So. Having things to do meant… you know. Doing them. Getting to work. Being productive instead of letting hours of an infinitesimal lifespan slip away while he sat around like some useless pretty thing-
So, so. Doing things would definitely be the preferred course of action here. Absolutely. He should definitely be doing things.
…Curling up on the floor counted as things, right? Surely. It was an action. One he was actively taking. The fact that he probably couldn’t stop doing it if he tried was unrelated. Probably.
Ugh. Human bodies were (the worst) a fun and freeing form he was lucky to be able to take.
Flowery groaned, drawing his knees in slightly tighter as another wave of nausea twisted and churned in his stomach. He’d thrown up once already, and was (ready to give up and go back to being a flower) not a fan. Bile still coated the back of his throat, the taste bitter and acidic and an awful mockery of Orange’s painstakingly crafted Juice. She’d been so proud to share it, too…
(He hated this, he hated this so much, he hated that it was-)
He should get up soon. All slow and careful-like, of course, because his stomach was still coiled tightly in on itself and was threatening violence if he moved slightly too fast, but up all the same.
Yep. He definitely should get up. Totally. That was a good idea. It was going to happen any minute now. Aaaaaany minute now.
Aaaaaaany minuteeeeeee nowwwwwwwww…
“Oh! Oh oh oh! Is this a new game?”
Well, that was as good a minute as any!
Flowery shot up. This was a huge mistake. He doubled over, clutching the edge of the boardwalk and retching what was left of his internal organs into the water. Apparently that wasn't enough for his (traitorous) wonderful human body, so he white knuckled the wood underneath him until the coughing and hacking subsided and he could sink down to lay on the ground once more.
Aqua stood over him, upside down to his horizontal perception. “Uu hu hu… What kind of game is this?”
“Mm.” Flowery attempted a smile. “Where’s Seth…?”
“Chasing!” Aqua giggled, hopping around in a way that might have just been speed or might have been him seeing double.
“Givin’ them the run around, are you?”
“Run around, run around!” And that was definitely seeing double, because Aqua had never been able to duplicate herself before (and a good thing, too…) “Do you wanna play run around? Spin with me, spin with me!”
The world was doing plenty of that already, thanks. Flowery slowly dragged himself back upright, this time giving himself plenty of time and space to do so without sabotaging himself, then reached for one of the Aquas in front of him. Good news, his hand was also split in two, which meant he could grab both of them without too much trouble.
“…Your ribbon’s leaking,” he managed.
“It’s Green’s!” Aqua informed him cheerfully. “I killed it with food dye!”
Ah, good. His eyes weren’t more broken than already established. “How ‘bout you sit down, an’ I can fix it for you?”
“Uuuu, sitting game~”
It was a rare day for Aqua to sit silently, and today was not one of them. She was wriggly and humming to herself and her ribbons were slippery, which was a tough combination to beat even when his fingers were properly coordinated.
All this to say, by the time Seth won their chasing game (aka found where Aqua had run off to), Flowery had made very little progress in actually fixing her hair. Yay. Great. He was doing so well. So so good right now. The best, even.
“Aqu- Oh! Flowery!” Seth, presumably upon seeing him, stopped short. When he looked up, their somewhat staticky form was hugging their trusty notebook to their chest. “There you are!”
“Here I ‘m (Sorry to keep you waiting!),” Flowery agreed. “Something the matter?”
Seth hesitated. “N-nooooo, not in… so many words. You’ve just been…” Presumably they finished that sentence, but since they’d decided to do it at a mumble, there was absolutely no hope of hearing it under the ringing in his ears. Hopefully nothing important!
“We’re playing a slow game, uuu hu hu~” Aqua helpfully informed Seth. Flowery nodded, slowly enough it didn’t upset his still aching head or his shaky grip on her hair.
“O-oh. Do you… need help, maybe?” Seth picked nervously at the pages of their notebook.
“Sures!” Flowery gave them a winning smile. It was almost as easy as usual. “Were y’ lookin’ for me, pal?” he asked as they sat down next to him, because he might be dizzy and unsteady but he wasn’t stupid.
“N-no, it just- Orange was, and… I don’t think I’ve- ever seen you sit down, e-except with Asgore…?” Seth said uncertainly. “It- looks like you’re not alright. Are you alright, Flowery?”
Flowery continued smiling winningly. “A-okay!” He was fine, he was doing things, doing importantthings, he was a-okay. “Just a tiiiiny bit unsteady. Mysterious winds, y’know (Mysterious winds!)".”
“Riiiiiigh- Ack! Flowery!! Your hands are covered in red dye, stop it!!” Seth started to say uncertainly, then cut themself off as Flowery reached over and ruffled their hair.
Flowery laughed apologetically, rubbing the back of his head with a sympathetic wince. “Sorrys! I forgot.”
Seth continued grumbling. Aqua continued squirming. Flowery kept his eyes closed against the lights overhead and remembered how to breathe the way humans did. In and out. No need for any sort of nausea, or dizziness, or headaches, or anything of any kind. He was just taking care of his friends. This was fine.
He was fine.
(What had he done to deserve-)
---
Orange had been looking for him. That was, among everything Seth had talked about (they’d gotten distracted by theorizing and strategizing for a long while), what had stuck out to Flowery. Orange was looking for him, and it was his duty to put her mind at ease and help with whatever she needed from him.
So. Once Aqua was slightly less sticky with her murdered handkerchiefs and Seth was properly distracted trying to wrangle her, Flowery took it upon himself to find Orange.
(…Preferably without running into Green)
It wasn’t all that hard to find her. She was (not small, she hated that word, he had to be careful not to use it around or about her) hard to see, even when his eyes weren’t being difficult and blurry, but she was loud and would never pass up an opportunity to greet him with said loudness. So, his strategy of wandering rooms until he heard her call out to him worked just fine. Juuuuuust fine. All good here, because why would things not be good? Ha!
Everything was fine.
(Everything was-)
Good news, Orange! Bad news, Orange at one of the Diners. Which meant Green was. Probably somewhere around there, and if not then going to pop up somewhere around there once they caught word he was here.
…Okay. Flowery loved Green. Who didn’t? He loved Green. It was just that same thing about with Blue; he knew what would happen if he showed up in this (awful) suboptimal condition, and he had things to do. Couldn’t waste his agonizingly short life on bedrest, or something! That would be absurd!
He was fine, anyway.
Things were fine.
“Big brooooooo!” True enough to character, Orange was flying through the air to tackle him even before he could make out her blurry form. Flowery had about two seconds to do some important math on whether it was worth ducking or if he should risk trying to catch her.
His head was not processing things at his normal jarona-level speeds, so two seconds passed in a confused blink and the choice was made for him.
Choice, as in he picked neither, and Orange slammed directly into his chest with all the force and enthusiasm of a wrecking ball. Flowery staggered, shocks of pain running up and down his body as his sister started to slip down his vest, expecting him to catch her. Ah-!
He didn’t make it to catching her, could only watch as she tumbled to the ground. It was a good thing she was bouncy rather than breakable. If he hurt her-
Nope.
That didn’t happen.
Things were fine.
He was fine. They were fine.
“Owwwwww…” Orange groaned from where she had hit the deck before hopping to her feet with an aggrieved yelp. “Wha’ wazzat for?!”
There happened to be a wall nearby. And by happened to be he meant that he had been walking near the wall due to earlier dizzy problems. That was good. Past-Flowery was so smart to solve problems for future him. He was great at everything. He leaned against the wall, pressing one of his hands to his eyes with a quiet wince as static burst under his skin, all up and down his fun human veins. He loved this form, truly, but man was it inconvenient sometimes.
…Orange had said something, hadn’t she?
“Haha! Just- caught off guard!” Flowery said quickly. He held out a hand for Orange to hop up onto, grinning down at her. “Good surprise attack, sis! I didn’t even see you coming!”
“Really?!” Orange beamed up at him, giddy with pride. “Toldja I’d get you one day, didn’t I?”
“Sure did!” Flowery’s smile didn’t falter for a second- until Orange tried to climb up onto his head like normal. He winced, then gritted his teeth, resolving to be fine with it. He was fine. Things were fine. He wasn’t going to rain on his little sister’s parade just because of a silly little headache, ha! What kind of flower would he be if he let something so small get him down?! He wasn't going to stop here! He was-
Orange wasn’t. On his head.
Flowery paused, trying to figure out where from point a to point b the whole Orange-was-no-longer-on-his-head thing had happened. After the trying-to-climb-on-his-head thing, obviously, because time was wishy washy in a dark world but it still moved in a line. And before he noticed, obviously, for the same reason.
Flowery’s room, in times when he was actually in it and not running around every which way being productive and useful, had a lot of photos on the walls. Tons of them, really, with red string connecting important ones because when things were important and needed to be looked at you connected them with red string. Sometimes, if he looked between them fast enough, they started moving, flick flick flicking between one moment to the next back to the first. This felt like that. Like the world was pictures and he was only getting snapshots that flicked flicked flicked by before he could see the in betweens.
Orange was sitting on his sleeve, tugging his hand. “Flowery!!”
“Huh?”
“You’re being weird!” she accused. Hey hey hey! Good news! Orange talked loudly by default, which meant the ringing in his ears was no problem! “Y-you should come sit down!”
Sit down! Good idea. Orange was so smart. He smiled. Golly, his friends were great. He loved them. All the more reason to make sure he wasn’t being silly with this headache thing! How could he call himself a Perfect Bestfriend if he let something so insignificant as a headache get him down…?
Sit down. Right. Yep. He was going to do that. Limb function was a go. Threetwoonego-
Good news! He was rolling in good news lately, huh? Maybe he should get a weirdmystery headache more often, if this was how good news worked when he had one!
Good news, table reached. All normal like. He was so normal. The normalest. Normalest-est, even. Flowery very politely very normally declined the Juice offered to him (snapshot, Green. Snapshot, sign he couldn’t read. Hopefully nothing important x2!) and rested his forehead on the table. It was cold. He liked the cold. It felt like sand. This was nice. Would Asgore maybe like to-
“Big bro…?”
Static. Lots of static. Orange being quiet. That… wasn’t good. He couldn’t hear quiet all that well-like right now. Hopefully she’d go back to loud soon.
Flowery lifted his head (owwwwww owowow since when was his head so heavyyyyyy), cracking an eye open at the human sitting on the table in front of him. She had Juice. He’d have some if his stomach wasn’t still in active rebellion. “Yes’m!”
“You’re being weird! Y-y-you keep doing a frozen notmoving thing!” Orange cried.
Aha. So the world was still moving, it was just him being all photo-shutter-stop-pause weird. Not good! He couldn’t be fine if he couldn’t keep up with the rest of the world!
Flowery’s gaze flicked to Green, whose sign had maybe changed maybe been there the whole time. He squinted at the shaky letters. Did he still owe them money…?
‘You’re bleeding?’
Aha aha. Flowery grinned apologetically. “Playin’ with Aqua,” he informed them. He lifted his hands, still covered in cracked flakes of food dye.
Green inspected the Evidence, and upon finding it satisfactory enough gave a slow nod. He continued smiling, closing his eyes again against the Diner lights. Things were fine. He was doing great.
“I’m allgood!” Flowery announced to Orange. “Just… have a tiiiiiiiiiny lil headache, is all.”
More shutter-stutter-stop-pause going on. He lowered his head back down to the table and rested against it again. It was nice. Nicecold. Flowers couldn't really get cold in a regulated glass case, so this was new! New and nice. He liked new stuff.
(The pain was new, too. Maybe this was nice, then…?
Yeah. He’d go with that)
“-go get Blue!” Orange was declaring. Whoops, couldn’t have that! Double couldn’t have that!! No thank you!
“Hey, hey hey hey hey, no-” Flowery lunged for the rapidly fading Orange in his vision. This proved to be a horrible mistake. His arm, or hand, or sleeve, or something or other annoying human limb caught on the edge of the table.
His good news streak continued! He caught himself, if barely, staggering a few paces so he didn't immediately slam face first into the floor.
His bad news streak (which he Was Not Counting because bad news went solidly in the didn’tcount category of life) also continued, if anyone was counting. Which he wasn’t. But it did continue, even without him counting. Bad news was like that sometimes.
Flowery stood upright, for about one second, and then in a blink blink blink the world sort of slumped all sideways-like and he was gone.