Frisk glanced at Flowey, sitting on their windowsill. They stopped drawing for a moment, then picked up their pencil again. Flowey glanced over at them, then rolled his eyes comically.

"Will you stop doing that?" Flowey hopped in his pot, turning to face them. "You're not doing anyone any favours, dropping your pencil and picking it up again. Draw, or don't, but stop making a noise."

Sorry. Frisk signed. Flowey cocked his head to one side, his leaves quivering. Frisk reminded him so much of Chara. They loved to draw, too. But Chara wasn't like Frisk. He had learned that the hard way. Frisk picked up their pencil and began to draw on the side of their page. Flowey leaned over, trying to see what they were drawing.

It was a very good picture, so far. The kid had talent. But what Flowey saw was anything but nice, or comforting. It depicted a shadowy figure, reaching under what looked like a bed toward Frisk. The kid had been drawing a lot of things lately, and none of them good. Then again, they always hid it when Sans or Toriel came nearby.

"Having fun?" Flowey asked, rocking in his pot.

Frisk paused, then glanced at Flowey. They put down their pencil, scrunched up their paper they'd been drawing on and tossed it in the bin. They then picked up Flowey's pot and set it gently on their desk. The kid looked as if they were on the verge of crying.

Promise you won't tell Sans. Frisk signed.

"I don't keep promises, idiot." Flowey rolled his eyes again, grumbling silently to himself.

Please?

Flowey rocked in his pot again, then growled. "Fine! I don't care, anyways."

Frisk gave a small, sad smile. Then they stood and removed their jumper, exposing their skinny arms. Flowey frowned when they removed their shirt, then his jaw dropped ever so slightly when Frisk turned.

Scoring their spine and decorating their shoulders were long, deep gashes. They looked very old, but they must've hurt at one stage. They were pure white, criss-crossing over Frisk's skin and making it look puckered and ugly. Frisk turned around, silently picked up their shirt and slipped it back on. They sat down, putting on their jumper as well.

Flowey and Frisk were silent for a moment before Frisk held up their hands.

Am I a monster?

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Flowey snarled, but his voice quivered. Frisk shook their head.

I still hear them in my head. Frisk gestured to their head, their eyes shut tightly. All the people that I killed. All the people that Chara helped me kill from timelines I don't want to ever happen again.

Flowey froze, but let the kid continue. I was abandoned, because I was a monster. I was beaten because I was a monster. My own parents didn't even want me because I could hear the Underground. I heard the souls of monsters. Their hands quivered as they continued. I heard Chara. I still hear Chara. But does that make me a monster? Am I monster, Flowey?

Flowey didn't say anything for a moment and stared at Frisk. Their face was shining with tears. "Frisk, why do you even tell me these things?" He looked down at his roots, which twitched uncomfortably. "I don't have a soul anymore. I can't feel…"

But you're my friend. Frisk signed, a small sob escaping them.

Flowey stiffened, then looked up at Frisk. Frisk sniffed, rubbing their face on the sleeve of their jumper. They then took a deep breath and began to sign some more.

I tried to die, but I couldn't. I wanted to leave the Underground because I thought that if I… if I went back to my parents, they'd want me again. Frisk paused. I want to see if they want me.

"Wait, you're going back to them?" Flowey's jaw fell and then he rocked in his pot, face twisting in anger. "That's a stupid idea! You don't even know where they are! Look what they did to you!"

I must. Frisk looked on the verge of tears. If they don't want me, then I can't be good for Toriel or Sans or Papyrus or anyone. They now had fresh tears streaming down their face. If I find out what I did wrong, then I can be a better person so I won't want to-

They stopped, hands shaking. Flowey knew which word they'd been about to use. He stared at them in shock, his petals drooping. "Frisk… you don't want to do that anymore, do you?"

They didn't answer and Flowey's face twisted. "Oh, so we're not good enough for you? We're just your little playthings? I think you like not being able to die! Then you can just reset all you want!"

Frisk flinched, but Flowey was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: Anger.

"Oh, look at me, I'm Frisk!" Flowey roared as Frisk began to sob. "I want to kill myself that everyone can play in my little game over and over again! I don't care about this happy ending I've gotten; I want to screw up EVERTHING!"

His face had twisted into that malevolent growl, where his eyes turned completely black and large, his mouth a tear in his face. Frisk had clapped a hand over their mouth and was now staring at Flowey, shaking.

They then stood and raised their hand. Flowey yelped as their hand collided with his pot, sending it flying onto their bed. He bounced harmlessly against the sheets, but Frisk cried, their body shaking as they ran from their room. Flowey heaved himself up, staring at the door with an angry expression.

"IDIOT!" He screamed, rocking in his pot.

But there was no answer.

Sans strode into the kitchen, where Toriel was cooking. Papyrus was helping her, excitedly explaining how Undyne had arrested a jaywalker before beating him up a little too much.

Sans yawned and grabbed a bottle of fresh ketchup from the fridge. He glanced around, popping off the cap and then looking at Toriel.

"Hey, Tori, seen the kid?"

Toriel turned, adorned in Frisk's apron that they'd given her. World's Best Mom was proudly displayed on the apron in bright gold letters and she'd loved it from the start. She frowned, continuing to stir the spaghetti sauce Papyrus had given her.

"No, dear, I haven't. Aren't they in their room?"

Sans shrugged. "Dunno… lemme check."

He sipped at his ketchup as he mounted the stairs to Frisk's room. The door was open and he flicked the light switch. "Kiddo?"

"Get out, trashbag!" Flowey snarled from the bed. Sans frowned, sipping at the bottle of ketchup.

"What're doing on their bed? Get off."

"I can't!" Flowey hissed, rocking in his pot. Sans glanced at him closely and snorted. The flower's pot was caught between the bed and the wall, making it impossible for him to move.

"Well, there isn't a monster under the bed anymore," Sans sniggered, sipping at his ketchup. "Alright, where's the kid?"

Flowey stopped struggling and stared at Sans. "They… they aren't in the house?"

Sans frowned. "What?" He said, his voice low and taking on a dangerous tone. "It sounds like you don't know where they are, petals."

"I don't!" Flowey hissed. "We had a fight and they ran away!"

The bottle in Sans' hand shattered. The ketchup looked like blood, staining the floor and his hands as he shot toward the bed and grabbed Flowey by the stem. The flower screamed as he was wrenched from his pot, but Sans choked him.

"Where's Frisk?!" He roared, shaking Flowey roughly.

"Let go of me, you stupid trashbag!" Flowey howled, his face morphing into a horrendous mask. "They ran away!"

Sans threw Flowey on the bed, his hand scratching at his skull. Frisk? Run away? That hardly seemed right in his mind. He glanced out the window; it was the middle of winter. Snow was layering the pavements. They couldn't have gone far, could they?

"What did you fight about?" Sans growled, grabbing Flowey.

"Nothing that concerns you, idiot." Flowey snarled, struggling. "I won't tell. I don't care about them."

"Yeah? Without them holding me back, I might just crush you into mulch, petals." Sans said coldly, his left eye flickering again with power. Flowey looked somehow pale and he shook.

"I don't care." He snarled, looking down. "They're stupid, anyways. They wanted to find their parents."

Sans went cold. "Their… parents?"

"Did I stutter, trashbag?!" Flowey roared, shoving Sans away with his vines. "They went. To find. Their. Parents." He snarled, annunciating each word with a growl. "Are you so thick that doesn't make sense?"

"Flowey, you don't understand…" Sans said, feeling sick despite not having a real stomach. He looked down at the ketchup on his hands, which looked even more like blood in the light. "Their parents… they'll kill Frisk."

Flowey stopped moving. "Huh?"

"They'll kill Frisk." Sans felt as if the room were spinning. "Oh God… kiddo…" He stopped himself from being sick by steadying himself on the wall. "You stupid, inconsiderate flower." He snarled, his eye flaring and his hands clenching. "You're gonna help me get them back."

"Make me." Flowey hissed.

Sans grinned. It wasn't his normal, carefree smile. It was cold, it was controlling and it was the look of a monster who had nothing to lose. He snapped his fingers and Flowey screeched as he was picked up by blue magic.

"Let's go, petals." He growled, striding toward the door. "You have some explaining to do."