A/N: Another chapter! Enjoy!

The wind was so strong in the morning. It rattled the windows of every home and nearly picked the petal off every flower. Several hours went by before it died down and became a light summer breeze. The clouds the wind had drawn in left and took the gloomy skies with them and soon it was another bright, sunny day. That was perfect for Flowey. He hated the harsh wind. He loved a summer breeze as much as the next thing, but the wind? No, he was not going to risk being blown away.

On a nice summer afternoon, Flowey took his time to soak in the sun's rays, letting it enter every pore, his xylem and phloem livelier and more rejuvenated. He may not be wind-resistant, but energy-efficient? Definite plus of being a flower. And after a good stretch of his stem, he usually pondered what he would do next. He was as free as a bird, after all. A sluggish, grounded bird, much like a kiwi. Frisk had pointed that out to him some time ago. It took every ounce of strength not to strangle them for comparing him to a dumb, exotic chicken. But he could not help but agree. It would take him a while to go anywhere simply burrowing through the ground, but he had his shortcuts and could sleep anywhere he liked if it was out of sight of others. So, yes, he could go virtually anywhere. Perhaps down to the lake to cool off in the water. Maybe behind the bakery where he could grab some pastries ungrateful people simply tossed. Or even pay a visit to Frisk themself.

And today just so happened to be the day he felt like coming by and chatting with the human. He came by once a week. Maybe twice a week if he felt like it, talking about anything as mundane as what one monster citizen was up to these days or as interesting as the topic of determination, though their conversations did not often stray to that heavier subject matter. Only when Frisk had a nightmare, which was far and few between.

"Well, let's see what the little brat's been up to," he said, taking his time to spread out his roots before burying himself in the ground. It was more difficult to find moist earth in the summer compared to every other season thanks to the summer sun, but with some maneuvering and patience, Flowey could find his way and begin his journey through the ground, traversing through old tunnels gophers and rabbits no longer used or the ones he made himself. He did not have a large system of tunnels like he did in the Underground but he worked with what he had. His journeys often went without a hitch as long as he poked his head out once in a while to look out for any extra obstacles.

In about a half hour, he finally made it to Frisk's home, a quaint suburban house in a quaint suburban neighborhood, complete with a white picket fence and a hedge in the shape of Papyrus' head. The latter was new. Flowey would have to get the story on that.

Taking care to avoid any nosy neighbors or pets, Flowey got to the side of the house where a lattice was resting against it, a structure Frisk had asked Toriel for as a "nice decoration" when Flowey first came to the Surface. Butterfly vines and honeysuckles adorned diamond shaped spaces, perfect plants for Flowey to climb with to get to Frisk's bedroom window on the second floor.

"Hello, again," Flowey greeted the other flowers. "Looks like Asgore's done a good job tending to you. Not a dry leaf in sight. Very impressive!" He hoisted himself onto the first horizontal panel, spreading out his roots to the first limb near him. "Alright, let's get this vine a little closer so I can…" but a commotion in the house caught his attention. He leaned in closer to the siding and heard sniffling. And crying. Not a pathetic wailing but more akin to a strong sob. But there was blubbering. Lots of blubbering as whoever was crying was trying to speak. It was hard to make out the words from the outside but he could hear the tones. One voice was soft and deep, while the other was just deep with a great rumble.

"Toriel? And what's Asgore doing here? Why are they both crying?" Flowey looked up at the sun. It was around late afternoon. If he had to guess, Frisk might have been late coming back from some volunteer activity. Toriel always wanted to know where Frisk was at all times. Asgore might have popped in for a surprise visit and saw a worried Toriel, then offered to find them with her. Until Frisk came in only a second later. And here the boss monsters were, bawling. The scenario sounded plausible.

Flowey rolled his eyes. "*tch* Weepy old fools." He thought about going around the house to peek through the kitchen window but it was too risky. "I can hear Frisk going up the stairs, anyway. Heh, sounds like they're really clambering to get up there. I'd want to escape that embarrassment, too, if I was them." So up he went to the open window.

He saw their door was open, so he called out to them. He knew no one downstairs could hear him, anyway. He had tested it before. "Hey, Frisk! What was all that crying about? Sounded almost as bad as when Undyne made that onion grenade."

The footsteps were much faster now. Frisk came charging into their room. Flowey laughed. "I'd want to run away, too, from that pathetic—"

Frisk shut the window on them and closed the blinds. Flowey stood there, shocked.

"Wh— hey! If you don't want me here, just say so! Don't be ru—!"

Frisk poked their head through the blinds with a finger to their lips. They then pointed at the ground, motioning Flowey to go back down, then disappeared back behind the blinds. Flowey huffed. "I just got up here. Now I got to go ALL the way back. Geez…"

As tough as it was to go down the lattice, Flowey was back on the ground before Frisk. He waited for them impatiently, grumbling under his breath.

If flowers could sweat, Flowey would have sweat at least a bucket and half. The sun beat down hard as he stood there waiting for Frisk to show, even so far as to make him cool off with a little wet soil from underground. "This is ridiculous. I don't even have to be here! I should just leave." But he stayed another few minutes despite his complaints.

Then Frisk came running around the house, crouching down to avoid being seen.

"Oh, finally!" Flowey screeched in a volume not too loud for others to hear but loud enough to indicate his anger. It was something he had practiced for occasions like this. "What is with you!? Why'd you shut the window on me! I thought you liked it when I came to visit you without warning. You even said—!"

Frisk shushed him again. "Flowey!"

"And quit shushing me! It's annoying! What the heck is your problem!?"

Frisk bent down to Flowey, trying their best to calm him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I kinda have… someone over."

"So? That's happened before and you've told me and I just come back later! Why is this person so special?"

Frisk rubbed the back of their neck. Flowey looked up at them with intense curiosity. Frisk was often an expressionless child but when they were experiencing an emotion so fierce, it showed on their face as plain as day. Frisk seemed nervous, if not a little distraught. They tapped their fingers together and tried to speak but had a hard time keeping eye contact. "I didn't expect you to show up so soon… I wasn't ready to tell you yet… but… I guess since you're here… um…"

"Wait… I see what's going on here." Flowey smirked. "You got a little crush on someone, don't you? And you finally worked up the courage to bring them over. Isn't that right?"

Frisk's face went blank. "Um, no."

But Flowey saw it as just a façade. He continued to laugh.

"Yeah, it is! Admit it. You've fallen in love! Ha ha HA!" Flowey bobbed side to side with amusement. "No wonder Toriel was crying! Her little Frisky is growing up! And Asgore! He must have been soooo prooouuud!" he mocked. "So, who is it?! I bet it's the little redhead with the glasses, right? Oo! Or maybe that cute Loox down the street, huh?! I bet it's them, isn't it?"

"It's neither. 'Cause I don't have a—"

"Frisk the human has found a special someone~!" he sang and winked. "Oo! Maybe I better go see this boo thang of yours." He whipped out his viperous grin and laughed. "Maybe give them a little scare to see what they're made of!"

"No! Flowey! Stop!" Frisk jumped in front of him. "You can't!"

He was not intending to be seen by anyone else, but Flowey was enjoying this little game, him popping out on one side and Frisk frantically sliding around to block his view.

"What's wrong, Frisk~? Don't want anyone to see this sweet ol' face?"

"Flowey, please."

"Who don't you want me to see, Frisk~? He he. I just wanna seem them with my DEMON eyes! Ha ha ha! Let me just take a… uh…" He stopped. Frisk stopped, too, and looked where he was looking. Peeking through Frisk's bedroom window was a little child, about Frisk's age, who wore a plain, clean T-shirt with a color as bright as grass that burst through the blinds, a painted yellow stripe across its middle that only added the same level of subtlety. Their long bangs curtained their eyes but could not hide the child's air of curiosity nor obscure the color of their dark cherry irises.

Frisk looked back at Flowey who continued to stare at the child, his expression unreadable. "Flowey…" Frisk started to say, "I didn't want you to find out this way, but let's just take this one step at a—"

"Take me inside," Flowey said, deadpan.

Frisk shook their head. "Wait! I need to tell you something first—"

"TAKE ME. IN. SIDE." Flowey glowered at Frisk, his teeth bared.

Frisk hesitated a moment, then sighed, letting the flower climb up their arm and into the pouch on their shirt. Fear did not persuade them to follow Flowey's command. It was his desperation. The same desperation shown the day the Underground went empty. To delay the truth of a miracle he sought the moment he awoke in that garden alone would have been cruel. There were no other options.

Frisk walked around the back and into the house, being careful to close the door without a sound. On their way up the stairs, Flowey could hear Toriel and Asgore having a conversation in the kitchen in hushed voices. Toriel was still crying.

"I cannot understand it. What has happened to make them this way?"

"I'm… I'm not sure. But perhaps they only need some space."

Flowey could not dwell on what meaning their words held for as quick as they entered the house, they entered another room, the scent of butterscotch cinnamon pie dying down while the scent of fresh linen took over. But there was something else, too. Or rather, somethings. Dirt, sweat, marinara sauce, and oats (though he suspected the last two were from Frisk's shirt). But none of those smells were as puzzling as the smell of a newborn baby. Not the human kind. The monster kind. It was a musty odor like death but far weaker, yet the familiar scent was enough to poke holes through the fresh linen. Confusion itched at the back of Flowey's mind, but it disappeared when he heard the child's voice.

"Frisk! What were you doing?" they giggled. "I saw you outside. Why were you talking to the grass?"

Flowey did not have a heart. He did not have a SOUL. Yet something was beating faster deep inside him, hitching his breath and shaking his stem. The last time he heard that voice, it gave shape to threats and bargains for life, screams for defense, and finally a whimper before he died along with it. And now here it was again. No longer a formless entity in his head but his friend in blood and bone only mere feet from him, like the good old days. The days where he had feelings and childhood innocence. A light, warm pressure encircled him that stopped him from shaking. Frisk's hand pressing gently into their shirt.

Frisk cleared their throat. "I, um… I was… talking to another friend."

The other child cocked their head. "Your friend is the grass? Was it a grass monster?"

"No, no! He's um… he's…"

Flowey could not contain himself anymore. Fear still seized him when he slithered out from Frisk's pocket. The fear that it was not them. The fear of rejection. He trembled as he entered the light and into the view of the child.

And he saw them, with their short brown hair and rosy cheeks. It had to be them.

Frisk looked down at Flowey and spoke reluctantly. "He's… right here."

The child marveled at the little flower. "Woah. A flower monster." They leaned in closer, their nose nearly brushing Flowey's cheek. Flowey's breathing was running faster again. "You haven't shown me one of them before."

Flowey's words caught in his throat as he tried to speak. "It's you… it's really you. After all this time…"

The child cocked their head again, wonderment fading from their eyes. "Huh?"

Frisk turned their back to the child. "Flowey, maybe we should talk about this. Now's not a good— wait!" He had jumped out of their pouch and onto the carpeted floor, crawling towards the child. The child, alarmed, backed away from him, their hands up to protect themself. "Frisk… w-what is your friend doing?"

Frisk knelt quickly near Flowey but could not bring themself to grab him. "Please! You're scaring them." But Flowey could not hear them. To him, it was only he and the child who were in the room. Nothing else in the world mattered.

"Chara… Chara, it's me. Asriel." His voice was soft and child-like, riddled with hope and care his high-pitched squeak never had. "I know… I know I don't look the same, heh. So much has changed since you were last here." He looked down at himself, regrets flooding in from non-existent pasts. "So much has happened… things I did that I wish I could take back. And… I wished how we left off was on a better note. But despite all that, I still remember us. I still remember all the good times we had. And I know… I know I said goodbye to you those many months ago, but I never forgot you, believe me. I could never forget you. And I see you could never forget me." He edged closer to the child, water pricking his eyes. "That's why you came back, isn't it? Because you couldn't forget. And you heard me, didn't you… you heard me and you've been trying to get back this whole time. And finally, finally! You've willed yourself back with your human determination. And now you're here… and… we can start over. We can start a fresh life. Together!"

His face was melting, as thick as candle wax, the drippings that streaked his stem sinking back in to dimple the source, adding layer upon layer at the center until it was a mound of plant flesh. It broke apart at the outer rim to give a mouth that curved up. Two dimples concaved further and narrowed until they were small slits, his beady black eyes expanding out like the shutter of a camera lens. The face forthcoming was slow to form. It was a face Flowey had not tried, had not dared, to wear again, but this moment was different. This feat was not for his own entertainment. It had to be perfect. It had to be exactly as they remembered it.

The child backed away until they hit a wall, almost trying to blend in with the blue paint as they eyed the flower's disfigured face. They looked to Frisk, who wore a concerned yet calm expression. Frisk moved their hands from a prayer-like pose to sweep the air in a horizontal motion, letting out a heavy breath, keeping their gaze fixed on the child. The child followed suit, trusting Frisk's judgement. If Frisk was calm, they would be so as well, listening to the little flower.

And then there it was. The face of a little goat boy grinning from petal to petal. The water was free flowing now, streaming down his little cheeks. He looked at the child with sweet, pleading eyes. "See, Chara? It's just me! Nothing to be afraid of! It's only me! I'm here! I'm right here, Chara!"

The child knelt down cautiously, still keeping distance between them and the flower. They stared hard at the petals, the face, the stem, but every part of the flower evoked the same response. Nothing.

Flowey looked into the child's eyes, his face falling. The rich color of the child's irises did not reflect the same strength of connection. It only stood as the superficial cover to a vacancy that had been there since the start. "Chara…?"

The child sighed and turned away, their lack of memories staining their sadness. "I'm sorry, but… I don't know who you are."

Flowey stammered, his child-like voice slipping back into small peeps. "But… b-but, Chara—"

"And I don't know who that is. First it was Frisk, then it was their mom and friend. Now you. You all have me mixed up with someone else," they spoke quietly, guilt building up as they took in the flower's sorrow, its face reverting back to a blank slate. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear—"

Flowey laughed, a little laugh choked through a strained smile that caught the child off guard. "This is a joke, isn't it? This is just one of your jokes!"

The child shook their head slowly. "No. If it was joke, then it wouldn't be a very nice joke."

Flowey's laughter stopped, his face like stone when a thought as quick as lightning entered his mind. "No… no it wouldn't be. But those are the kind of jokes you would tell, though you never admitted how cruel they were. You'd never admit that…"

Frisk heard a strange thump at the window. They turned to see vines curling around the glass like frost on a winter's morning, blocking out the sun's light and forcing the window open to let trickles of tendrils spill past the windowsill. Nausea creeped up in the pit of their stomach. "Oh no…"

The child gulped hard, a cold sweat pooling at the back of their neck. "I'm… I'm really sorry, but I… I-I don't… I don't know you."

"They'd never snivel like that. They would never show ANY fear." His voice was coarse and out from beyond its ether rose something like a low growl. "And they would never. Ever. Forget. ME!"

The vines crashed through the window like a tidal wave and took hold of the child, hoisting them up in the air, the rest barricading the bedroom door.

"Stop! Stop!" Frisk ran to where the child was and tugged at the vines, trying to rip them away from the child. "Stop, please! Calm down!" they yelled, but Flowey knocked them away and kept them bound with vines.

"You sick FREAK!" Flowey spat at the child. "Parading around in a dead body like it's your own. Disgusting. Who are you really, huh!? Some sort of spirit without anything better to do with their pathetic afterlife? Or a demon who's come to terrorize me as punishment for my past sins!?"

The child squirmed in his grasp, huffing and wheezing. "I… I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, please. Don't give me that little act! Playing dumb only makes me angrier!" The child whimpered as the vines wrapped tighter around their little body. "Tell me why you're here!"

"I don't know!"

Frisk was still fighting their way out of Flowey's grip. "Stop! Listen to me! You have to calm—mmph!" A vine twisted itself around their mouth.

Flowey snarled at Frisk. "You stay out of this!"

A loud pounding came from the bedroom door. "Children? Children! What is all that noise?" The doorknob rattled. "Unlock the door this instant!"

Flowey kept the door locked but maintained his focus on the little child. He grinned. "Well, whatever the reason for you being here, it all doesn't matter in the end." He coiled around the child like a large snake, clenching tighter and tighter, turning the child's face a deep red. "Because I'm going to squeeze your essence right out of this body. And I'll keep squeezing and squeezing, even after your dead, so you'll be sure to feel this pain in the next life!"

"Asgore, get this door open now!" came Toriel's muffled cry from behind the bedroom door. The pounding got louder, in time with the frightened child's beating heart, the hold getting tighter and tighter, until—

"Asriel!"

The squeezing stopped. The pounding kept going but the squeezing had stopped. Flowey stood stock-still among the vines at hearing his true name formed from that familiar voice. He looked at the child and saw boldness piercing through tearful eyes.

"Asriel!" the child called again. "That's your name, right!? Listen to me! Please! I can see you're angry! And also sad! You lost someone close to you! *huff*… Frisk told me that… *puff*… when… w-when someone gets upset, sometimes they lash out, but they don't mean it. And you don't mean this. I know you don't! I can see that! You're just sad!" They shook their head, the tears falling down and watering the honeysuckles below. "But I can't lie to you, Asriel. I don't know you! I'm sorry! Please… let Frisk and me go. Please… let us go…"

Flowey looked at the child. Then he looked at Frisk. He had no heart. He had no SOUL. But he felt pain when he saw the distress on their faces. "… What am I doing?" In a single breath, he released the children and retracted the vines, running away out the open window before the bedroom door was blown down by fire.

"Children!" Toriel and Asgore dashed into the room to find Frisk kneeling down with the other child, pulling them onto their feet. They cupped the children's faces with their warm hands still smoldering with magic, firing a barrage of questions their way. "What has happened here? Are you hurt? How did you break the window?! Oh, your hands! How did you get these cuts? Were you two fighting?"

"No, we weren't fighting!" Frisk assured, shaking their head frantically. "Um… the lattice broke through the window because… the… the wind knocked it through and—"

"The wind?" Toriel questioned. "There hasn't been any wind since this morning. Frisk, are you lying to me?" she asked sternly.

"Actually, Miss Toriel," the child spoke up, "I-It was my fault. I wanted to go play on the lettuce, but Frisk told me not to—"

"We…" Frisk interrupted, "were BOTH playing on the lattice and broke through the window. I almost lost my grip and fell, but my friend pulled me up in time. That's why there was so much shouting."

"We're sorry, Miss Toriel and Mr. Dreemurr. We didn't mean to scare you."

The two boss monsters looked at each other and sighed. "Well, at least you two only have minor injuries," Toriel noted. "But no more going near the lattice! That is not a toy. If you want to play on something, I'll take you two to the park. Understood?"

The children nodded.

"All right." Green magic buzzed through Toriel's fur and onto the hands of both children, clearing their scratches and bruises. "Now go wash up! Dinner's waiting on the table. Asgore," she turned to the other monster, "would you like to stay for dinner tonight? We have room for another."

"Yes, of course!" he happily obliged. "I'd love to! And I'll see to it that things are cleaned up around here. Wouldn't want anyone to step on leftover glass."

"Thank you." She nudged the children out of the Frisk's room and towards the stairs. "Come along now, children. The snail casserole will get cold. Ah, ah, ah! No faces! … But if you cannot finish, you can still have pie."

The little child went down the stairs with Frisk's hand in tow, their gaze directed on each individual step, preferring a much simpler task to fuss about than the ordeal that still swam in their mind. But Frisk could not help but take one last look out the open window framing the evening sky. Their heart burned with a wildfire that tried to spread to their legs to force them out the door to go find him, but the chill of guilt kept the fire at bay. They did not want to cause any more trouble for their family. Tomorrow was a new day. They made it their mission to leave early in the morning to find him, no matter how long it would take. They would make sure to explain everything.