"What even is this?"
The sharp, high pitched voice floats towards you from some distance away. You recognise it immediately, having heard it many times before. It is harsher than you remember, but still similar enough to be familiar to you.
You frown. You've only heard this voice twice. Both times you were in the ruins. You're not sure what you were thinking; he's always had this voice as far as you know.
You've confused yourself now. Your thoughts have been muddled since you woke up on the bed of golden flowers. Seeking comfort, your free hand grips the sleeve of your thick jumper, bunching tightly into the fabric. You breathe; in, out, slowly. There. That's better. You wade through the ankle-deep snow towards the voice, curious as to his actions despite your wariness of his motives.
"Who created this stupid puzzle, anyway?"
He certainly makes for an interesting sight. He's hunched over himself, stem curving to allow the position. He hasn't seen you, fixated on whatever has him staring at the ground as if in a trance. His petals are twitching in what you assume to be confusion, or annoyance, or both. The action feels so familiar to you for some reason, even though you don't know him at all. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you take another step forward through the snow.
The crunch your sodden foot makes in the snow alerts him to your presence. His head jerks up, expression initially morphing into one of shock before he schools it into a wide, friendly smile with practised ease. The falseness of it all is glaringly obvious to you somehow.
"Chara!" he exclaims loudly and gleefully. You don't know who Chara is, but the name triggers something within you every time he says it. It sounds right. It sounds like you.
If possible, Flowey's smile grows even wider. "I guess you caught me," he says with a giggle. "I've been helping you, Chara! These puzzles are so annoying." He drags out the word 'so' for emphasis. "I thought that I could make things easier by doing them for you, but…"
Two small vines erupt from the ground at the base of his stem, one either side. They move outwards, replicating a humanoid shrugging their shoulders. "…this puzzle is ridiculous," Flowey states, smiling sheepishly. "The person who designed it must an idiot. See, I swept the snow away here," one of his vines burrows back underground, the other waving in the air to indicate the pile of snow to your side, "to uncover this diagram."
True to his word, the diagram is clearly visible. It has sweep marks on it. He must have used a vine to brush away the blanket of snow.
"So now there's this bright red cross," the flower continues in his annoyingly chirpy voice. "It obviously stands for something, but I just can't figure out what." A vine caresses the back of his head gently; similar to the way you've seen some people rub the back of their heads with their hand when they're confused or embarrassed. You're pretty sure he's doing it wrong, but you decide not to point that out.
Suddenly, he slams the vine down onto the snow, sending a light spray into the air. You instinctively jump slightly, caught off guard, but quickly regain your composure and chastise yourself mentally. You promised yourself; no weakness. Not in front of others.
He doesn't appear to have noticed your temporary loss of control, engrossed in his little tantrum. "What does this diagram even represent? That's a good place to start. I don't even understand that, let alone the cross! Who invented this puzzle? I want to smack them. Wait, who created the concept of puzzles? I want to tear them apart, limb by limb, and…"
You block him out, used to his ramblings. He's as annoying as ever. At least that hasn't changed. With a sigh, you turn and begin to trudge away from the angry flower, having studied and understood the simple diagram while he was extensively explaining it to you.
Wait.
He hasn't changed since you met him, other than no longer wanting to kill you.
Your mind is a mess. You were so sure he had changed somehow.
Your foot hovers above the ground, your muddled thoughts causing you to hesitate. Berating yourself, you plant it firmly into the snow, only to hiss in annoyance as the cold slush seeps through the worn material of the shoe. Angrily, you keep going, heading towards the three trees you can see a short distance away.
"…and then I'll cut slowly and deeply, so he feels agonizing pain, and suffers. He'll be begging for death at this point, but it'll be a long time until I'm finished with him…"
Flowey is still ranting. You're not sure whose murder he's plotting now. He always did have a dramatic flair about him.
Even though you barely know him.
You reach the trees, reaching out a hand to steady yourself on one of the trunks. Once you've attempted to sort your spinning thoughts, failed, given up and shoved them to the back of your mind, you crouch down in the snow. Reaching out your gloved hand, you shove the snow aside, fumbling for the switch you know should be hidden there. Your hand bumps into something hard and, victoriously, you yank the lever down.
Letting out a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet as your hear the click of the spikes retracting. Turning slowly, you begin trudge back to where you left Flowey mid-rant.
"What did you just do, Chara?"
You spin around, startled at the unexpected sound. Glancing down, you see Flowey staring up at you, a look of confusion on his face. His head is tilted slightly to the side like a dog sometimes does to express their lack of understanding. It's almost cute, and the simple brings back a flood of memories that you don't fully remember. Before you can grasp them they are gone as fast as they came, leaving you disconcerted and lost.
Flowey turns towards the lever. "Is that a switch?" he asks slowly, oblivious to your swirling thoughts. "It was hidden under the snow… which is what the cross- oh. Ohhhhh. That actually makes a lot of sense." He laughs sheepishly. "Oops."
You sigh again, a familiar action to you. He is such an idiot, even after all this time.
The flower shakes his head. "So, I guess I'll leave you too it," he says. "Good luck, Chara!" he burrows back into the ground quickly, leaving a neat circle of upturned mud in the middle of the snow where he had been.
You press your hand against your head, thoughts whirling and headache forming. With another sigh, one of frustration, you give up, electing to ignore your conflicting memories and feelings. You begin to wade through the freezing snow, determined to reach Snowdin today.
You do your best to forget about your shaking body and weak limbs, your attachment to the talking flower, and your complete and utter confusion.