Prompt: "Aren't you so kind, checking again on my well-being?" with Flowey

Warning: Allusions to self-harm


"Oh, dear." his voice is sarcastic, edging into nihilism with every word and something on his face contorts with their presence. "Aren't you so kind, checking again on my well-being?"

The child smiles, annoyingly so. With bright eyes and a sharpness akin to theirs. Flowey hates every inch of it. Relishes in tearing them apart, though it wouldn't last.

Destroying them is like throwing a pebble into a pond. No matter how many ripples you cause, the water will settle again.

"Have you come to gloat or what?" he hisses, as they sit beside him. They're clean this time, no more cuts or bandages, and Flowey can't help but think of them, always marred, always torn.

Always.

Asriel wasn't enough to fix them. Flowey doubts his current state would suffice.

"Well, you have your happy ending. No reason to come rub it in my face."

They nod, hands hovering idly in front of them, fingers restless and when they look at him the sheer determination in their face is enough to make him want to puke.

'It's not a happy ending yet' they tell him, their gestures slow and deliberate. 'Is it?"

"Are you asking me, or telling me?" He frowns, considers leaving but something holds him back. Curiosity is a fickle thing. Something he is ever prone to. "Are you going to do it over, then?"

And for a second, he can feel them consider it. It reflects in the tenseness of their muscles, the tightness of their furrowed brow. That with ease, without a second thought, they could tear this world apart.

But they shake their head, ever resolute in their decisions, even the bad ones. Even the very worst ones.

'But I would like you to come with me.'

It's not a question. Flowey sighs, weary. He rather dislikes spending his immortal life all alone in the recesses of their underground prison, abandoned by all.

But it wouldn't do for them to know that, now would it?

"Thanks, but no thanks," he says quickly, ducking underground and popping up just a few feet further to watch for any reaction.

They just stare back at him. 'Papyrus misses you.'

And that's a low blow. He scoffs, sputters for a second, all further words are lost on them both. What can he even say to that?

"F-fine."

Frisk smiles and Flowey knows they're nothing like them.


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