2. Taking care of the flowers
When they arrived at Home, Chara couldn't stop touching things.
There was a great irony in the fact that, while the monsters spent the entire game wishing that they could get to the surface, the actual accessible surface for them consisted of Mt. Ebott's peak and little else. Fortunately, the programmed issues that plagued the Underground did not exist after game time ended, and its residents were still free to go see the sun or stars whenever they pleased.
Home – Toriel's little house in the Ruins – now seemed cozy rather than stifling. Frisk was glad to be there, and they would have gladly slurped down a bowl of the soup that Toriel prepared and then headed straight to bed, but instead they couldn't help following Chara around the house. Chara, who couldn't stop touching things.
Chara stopped in the hallway, where they'd been gently prodding at one of the water sausages standing in its vase, and stared at Frisk over their shoulder. "What?" they asked defensively.
Frisk shrugged.
"I haven't had a body for a long time," said Chara. Well, okay, technically it hadn't been that long, but their backstory made it feel like much longer. "I want to remember what things feel like."
Not too long after that, they must have decided to remember what a bed felt like, because they turned into the room that they'd be sharing with Frisk tonight. They dragged their palms around the toys, the bedspread, even the dusty shoes piled up in a box, until finally they came to the picture frame. It was empty, of course, but they stared at it as if they could discern a hidden image behind the glass.
"In me and Asriel's room, we had a family portrait here," they murmured.
Frisk nodded. They remembered that portrait very well.
Chara took a few steps back from the picture frame and gazed around the room. "It's almost like where I lived before…but not quite. There aren't two beds. And…Asriel's not here…"
They missed him. Frisk didn't need to be a mind reader to tell how much his absence was preying on Chara's mind. It looked as if his immense love for them was very much reciprocated.
So Frisk approached Chara, tapped on their shoulder, and signed the same message that they'd signed before: 'We can check on him.' In fact, Frisk really wanted to check on him, and so far Chara was the only person they'd seen who might be willing to accompany them. Everybody else had given up on him – even his own parents…
At first, Chara's eyes lit up. Hopes danced across their face like reflected splatters of light: maybe the adults were wrong, maybe Asriel was himself again after all. It wasn't impossible, right? But then they lowered their eyes and began fiddling with their sweater. "I don't know. I think…it's not a good idea for me to go."
Frisk frowned, and they signed pointedly in Chara's line of vision. 'Don't you want to see him?'
They expected a protest along the lines of it's not really him, it's just soulless Flowey, a train of thought that had begun to frustrate them somewhat. Even if he was a flower with no soul, he had Asriel Dreemurr's memories, so who else was he? But when Chara shook their head, they actually demurred in a completely unexpected way. "Of course I do, but maybe he doesn't want to see me. Or even if he does, maybe he shouldn't see me."
'What?' Frisk's frown turned puzzled. 'Why not?'
"You heard what he said, Frisk. I'm not really the greatest person."
They winced. They kept forgetting that Chara had been their invisible partner during their journey, and that they'd seen and heard everything along the way, including Asriel's speech at the end of the game. Frisk tried to imagine watching your closest friend's misery and sorrow, longing to reach out and comfort him but unable to be seen or felt, and then hearing him say that 'Chara wasn't really the greatest person.' Whether that was true or not, ouch.
'You don't seem like a bad person, though,' Frisk signed cautiously. 'He said that because you wanted to fight.'
Chara's head snapped up. "They were trying to kill my brother! And me! Of course I wanted to fight!"
Okay, fair enough, even if Frisk wasn't a big fan of fighting in general. 'And also because…you hate humans.'
This time, Chara looked askance. Their hands were moving busily in the fabric of their shirt. "I don't hate you, Frisk," they replied quietly. "But you're the only good human I've ever met. The others…I have my reasons for hating them."
Frisk said nothing. If even Asriel didn't know those reasons, then they didn't think that Chara would be sharing them to a kid who they hadn't known for all that long.
"He's right, though." Chara sighed. "I'm hateful. I wanted to kill people, I mean, I really wanted to. And if you don't think I'm a bad person, that's because during the pacifist run, you never get to see how hateful I can really be."
Frisk vied for eye contact with them before signing a response. 'That doesn't make you a bad person.'
There was a long pause. Chara untwisted their hands from their sweater and began nervously stroking the bed coverlet. "I just don't know if I belong here anymore," they mumbled, more to themself than anything. "I didn't even think I'd be around anymore once the game ended. I thought I'd just go back to sleep…"
Frisk shrugged.
"Maybe you're right," they finally conceded. "Maybe I'm just being a coward. I mean, I know Asriel, but…I barely know Flowey at all."
'I know Flowey. I know that he needs a friend.' Whether he was soulless or otherwise, Frisk couldn't believe any differently.
Pause.
"Okay. We'll go check on him. First thing tomorrow?"
Frisk nodded.
Chara sat on the edge of the bed and began swinging their legs. The blanket rippled each time that their boot-heels struck it. "Thanks for putting up with me, Frisk," they said. "I know I'm pretty weird, and that I've been acting weird all night, and you don't know me that well – but you're still here listening to me. You really are a good person."
'You helped me,' signed Frisk, smiling as they settled down beside Chara. Besides, their fellow human child wasn't that weird, or at least, no weirder than any of their other monster friends.
"I tried my best." Chara offered a return smile. It was small, but it was genuine. "So…does this make us friends?"
Friends? Friends who happened to share the same set of adoptive parents, and who'd gone everywhere together so far? Frisk thought that there was probably a better word for that. 'Not friends,' they signed. 'Siblings.'
Chara's eyes widened, but a moment later, so did their smile, and when Frisk leaned forward to hug them they returned it without a moment's hesitation.
No matter what kind of person Chara was, reflected Frisk, they clearly wanted to be loved like anyone else, and they were so happy to feel accepted. And somebody like that really couldn't be all bad after all.
Don't worry about me. Someone has to take care of these flowers.
Flowey drooped so far over that the edges of his petals brushed against the golden flowers below him. Normal, inanimate, lucky golden flowers, which didn't have to feel sad or lonely or guilty or any of that. Those flowers didn't care that they were stuck here even after the game ended and everybody else got to go home. If only he could be so oblivious.
All right, so he wasn't stuck here, he supposed. He knew how to move around as a flower; he'd had lots of practice with it, and he could pop up anywhere he wanted to in the game. But that would have been asking for trouble. Unlike in the story, everybody would recognize him, and he didn't want to look at the fear and revulsion and suspicion on their faces as they saw Flowey the Flower, renown serial murderer, lurking about and ready to disrupt everyone's happiness. He was too well attuned to everyone's behavior not to know exactly what they'd think.
So he just stayed by the bed of golden flowers in the game's very first room, like he'd told Frisk that he would. Remembering how it felt to have a soul again must have temporarily restored his conscience, because all he could think was how it was better for him to be here where he couldn't anyone. He was a menace, pure and simple. Maybe eventually he'd get bored or fed up and forget that, but for now, it was fresh in his mind.
He lifted his head with a jolt, suddenly realizing that he heard something echoing out from the open entrance to the Ruins; outside of game time, all of the puzzles were disabled, and sound could travel quite far throughout the network of caves. Bouncing towards him now were footsteps, and a voice that sounded like
(Chara it sounds just like Chara)
a child's, and not like Chara, because Chara was dead and buried beneath his roots at this very moment. Besides, he didn't actually know what Chara sounded like, did he? All of his memories of them were just programmed backstory.
"…this way, right…?" The words leapt out from a garble of incomprehensible echoes.
Flowey sighed to himself. Memories for a game character were slippery, obnoxious things. Technically, all of the characters here had only existed for about twenty-four hours, but each of them had an individual history hardwired into their minds: from his own befriending and losing Chara, to Asgore's slaughtering of the six human children, to Sans's…whatever. (He clearly had something, but he hadn't exactly shared with anyone what it was.) It was damn near impossible to proceed as though your memories didn't represent something real; they still defined you, still dictated your personality and actions, still felt as real to you as any of the more tangible aspects of gameplay. Which was why Flowey could be upset right now, as well as why something in the back of his mind thought that the distant voice sounded like Chara, although of course it wasn't.
"…sure about this? I mean…"
But whoever it may have been, they were coming closer. He scowled. Probably it was some kid who hadn't seen him during the game, coming to gawk at the magic talking flower…
…except that couldn't be right, because who knew that he was here? Just because his former identity was common knowledge didn't mean that his location had been broadcast out to everyone. But Frisk knew – and with that thought, he realized that he was hearing two sets of footsteps, not one.
Of course. Frisk was coming to visit him – and they'd brought a friend.
He tamped down the joy that wanted to bubble up in his nonexistent heart. Yes, okay, he was lonely and Frisk didn't seem to be bothered by anything he did, no matter how horrible, but they shouldn't be here! He was dangerous, a menace, a murderer…and besides, they had their own life now. They must have had better things to do.
The voice had stopped now, but the footsteps were closer than ever. Go away, Frisk. Go away…!
His attempt to exude a forbidding atmosphere failed miserably. When he lifted his head again, Frisk was right in front of him, separated from him only by the patch of flowers.
Flowey caught his breath. "What…are you doing here?"
Frisk started to raise their hands – then they frowned thoughtfully, and instead of signing, they gestured for someone in the shadows to step out. That would be whatever friend they'd brought with them, some other kid from the game who was now (understandably) having second thoughts about this…
The friend shuffled up to Frisk's side.
It was Chara.
Flowey's eyes bugged out of his face. He closed them, took a deep breath, and counted to three in his head. When he opened them, Frisk's friend was still there, and it was still Chara. Though they looked much more frightened and uncertain than he was used to.
Oblivious to their companion's emotions, Frisk beamed down at him and signed: 'We came to see you!'
His mouth dangled open stupidly. Chara, who should have been dead in the ground underfoot, stared back at him. Whether or not his memories were "real", there was no mistaking them: the rosy cheeks, the huge brown eyes beneath a protective fringe of bangs, even the way their hands bunched up their too-big sweater like they always did when they were nervous…
"Asriel?" they asked tentatively.
That was the final snap of recognition in Flowey's brain, and in response, he leaned as far back from the two human children as possible.
"Go away!" he shrieked. "You shouldn't be here! Don't you get it?! I'm dangerous like this, I'm soulless, I've killed everyone over and over again…! You're supposed to be scared of me! You're supposed to hate me!"
Frisk and Chara exchanged a glance. Chara's expression was beginning to look more confused than fearful. "I can't hate you," they said in a soft, puzzled voice. "You're my brother…"
Did they just say—?! Were they insane?! Did they not see who they were talking to?!
"No I'm not!" screeched Flowey, barely noticing the teardrops budding at the corner of his eyes. "I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower, who was horrible to everyone just because I was bored and wanted to see what would happen! Who killed Frisk over and over so they'd never leave because I was having too much fun killing them! Who stole the Souls of every monster in the underground without a second thought! Whose Level of Violence is completely off the charts! Who—"
Then Frisk took a step forward, and he flailed, forgetting how to inch back in his moment of absolute panic. "Stop! Don't c-come any closer!"
And then Chara came forward, too, and a spasm of terror wracked him from roots to stem. He couldn't watch them die again, especially not at his hands…! He just couldn't!
Yet there was no fear in their eyes whatsoever. "You don't sound much like Flowey to me," they remarked. "You sound like you. Asriel, you're you, aren't you? And you can finally see me again…!" Their whole face turned up in a smile. "I've been here all this time, and I could see you but you couldn't see me, I just wanted to do something to make you feel better, and I couldn't, but now…!"
They reached out for him. Flowey recoiled. And his magic, reacting to his desires and emotions, materialized a circle of bullets in the air with an ominous pop.
Chara jerked back with a stifled cry, their gaze flying up to the threateningly whirling projectiles, but somehow Frisk was undeterred. They bunched their hands into fists and took another step closer, their posture radiating…well…Determination. His breath hitched, and his pupils darted rapidly back and forth between the bullets and the approaching human. "No," he said hoarsely.
Frisk came closer. The bullets wobbled towards them uncertainly.
"Frisk, stop!" he cried. "Please! Y-you're going to get hurt!"
They shook their head and came closer still.
"Frisk! The bullets! I…I don't…!"
One more step, and Flowey broke. The bullets flickered and dissolved into intangible powder, and he sobbed out, "I don't want to hurt you!"
The next thing he knew, tears too big for his flower form were rolling down his cheeks, and Frisk's arms were wrapped around his narrow stem, carefully but tightly. They were stroking the back of his head, and he was crying into their shoulder, and it was only at that moment that he truly understood that he wasn't soulless anymore. It wasn't wishful thinking, it was just a fact – nobody who couldn't love would have been as terrified for Frisk's well-being as he'd been mere moments ago.
After a minute or two, he choked his sobs down to snivels, raising his head a little. Well, this did make sense, didn't it…? After all, Souls were really just a game mechanic, and now that the game was over…he was just like any other character.
Except for the fact that everyone probably still hated him.
Chara stood just behind Frisk, wringing their hands and giggling. He'd long known that they were prone to bouts of nervous laughter, which he used to envy; it seemed like they'd been able to laugh off just about anything. Now, though, it just made him wilt all over again, because he couldn't remember them ever reacting to his actions that way.
"I'm sorry, Chara," he said despondently. "I – I never wanted any of that to happen, I swear…" He hadn't seen his best friend in who-knew-how-long, and yet the first thing he did was scream at them to go away and then nearly attack them. Talk about a botched second impression.
Chara cut off their laughter abruptly. "No, it's – I'm not—!" Their tongue fumbled for a few seconds before they managed to get out, "I just – can't tell if – if you…even want me here or not."
He stared at them. "Chara…for as long as I can even remember, all I ever wanted was you here!"
"But," they protested, "you said…!"
His turn to burst into a nervous giggle-fit. When it subsided, he gasped, "Well, I never would have said that if I knew that you were listening!"
Chara's lips twitched. "Haven't you ever heard that you shouldn't speak ill of the dead?"
And for whatever reason, that set all three of them off, except this time the laughter felt good. Cleansing, almost, or like a reminder of what it was like for the three of them to be happy and together. Frisk and Chara both flopped out in the bed of golden flowers next to him, laughing at practically nothing, until tears streaked the three children's cheeks.
And Flowey – no, not Flowey, Asriel – Asriel felt better than he had since he'd reluctantly pulled away from Frisk's hug at the end of the pacifist run. He had a friend – or even more than a friend; a sibling – on either side of him, and they were both grinning at him, and he was beaming at them with the stupidest, dumbest, most brilliant smile on his face, and nothing had ever made him happier.
This time, he didn't have to let go.