Prompt: "I have something I need to tell you." with Flowey and Papyrus - Soulless Papyrus AU
Hey, it's been 1352 days since Undertale came out and I'm still writing for these characters go figure.
"I have something I need to tell you," Flowey mutters, hesitantly. Giving as much the impression that he'd rather not tell at all actually. "But uh- maybe we should find a place a little more... quiet."
For a moment Papyrus falters. Because yes, Flowey is his best friend in the whole wide world. A world that has become increasingly wider ever since reaching the surface. But it has also become increasingly brighter, better.
Everybody has finally earned their happy ending.
And now Flowey wants to have a conversation that, as far as Papyrus trusts his ability to read the mood (and he doesn't really all things considered), will be hard.
Maybe they can just-
"Please?"
"Of course," he answers. If it is important enough to warrant a plea, then it must be serious.
They go to his room, his new room but with the same sign at the door forbidding entrance to anyone else. They sit on the bed and Papyrus waits patiently, thinking about the cake downstairs and the pasta he's making for dinner and the walk he'll go on tomorrow. He waits and waits and waits.
"I don't know how to say this," Flowey starts eventually, frowning in as far as he's able to. For somebody that claimed not to feel any emotions anymore before, he looks very conflicted right now.
Papyrus waits some more.
"Do you know who I am?"
That's not a hard question at all. Which means that whatever Papyrus is thinking of right now is probably not the correct answer.
So he decides to wait a little longer.
"Well, I'm not who you think I am."
Flowey blinks at him, waiting for those words to sink in. Papyrus blinks back, undisturbed.
"Are you sure?" he asks eventually, when the waiting gets to be a bit too much even for him. His best friend looks surprised, amused maybe, but mostly just taken aback. Then he smirks.
"No," he says. "I'm not sure. But only because I never know what you're thinking." He shakes his head, one vine creeps over the side of the pot idly. "And isn't that just wonderful?"
They can hear the noise from downstairs, Undyne yelling and Toriel's apologetic mumbling and Mettaton probably breaking the table. They're all very excited. They have never been on the surface before.
But then again, neither has Papyrus. He has been dead and he has been king and he has been any small little fractured thing that lies in-between but he has never been on the surface before.
"Who are you then?"
Maybe Flowey is trying to stall for time now because he looks away. "I don't know how much you remember of what happened back then. Underground, right before we left."
Papyrus touches his own arm, the phantom wound of broken bone long since healed. It certainly wasn't pleasant. "Not much," he answers truthfully.
"What about before you were born. Before the souls."
Papyrus smiles thinly. "I wouldn't remember it if I wasn't born, I'd assume."
Monster history wasn't exactly a school subject during his childhood now was it? Not when there were far more exhilarating things to test.
"Ugh, fine." Flowey seems to resign himself to his fate. "I'm Asriel. I'm the dead prince."
He waits for some kind of reaction but gets none. Papyrus has perfected the art of the poker face, despite having neither the desire nor disposition to play many card games.
"I see..." he says, seeing about as much as a blind person in a completely dark cave would. He doesn't want to ask what the point of this conversation is because that would be rude, but somehow the relevance is lost on him.
Flowey for his part looks pretty distressed about the whole affair. So Papyrus pats him gently, knowing that if he cannot offer emotional support at least physically he can be there. Flowey isn't crying, or yelling or overly sad or angry or scared. Even if now he has the option to be any of those.
He is confused.
Papyrus doesn't understand. His ribcage feels hollow. "I'm sorry."
He doesn't know what he is sorry for either. Flowey drops his head, wilts in every sense of the word as it does sink in and Papyrus pats him but feels nothing.
Irony, it is not often lost on them.
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