Chapter Text
Monsters had returned to the surface.
Humans accepted them with open arms, and the two races were once again united.
It was a perfect, happy ending.
So why couldn’t Frisk just leave him alone?
It was better this way. He had no soul. No feelings. No morality. There was no way he could live peacefully amongst humans or monsters.
He would get bored, as he inevitably did, and he would do something that everyone would regret.
And either way, assuming he was guaranteed to never fall back into his sociopathic tendencies: then what? Go with Frisk to live with Mom and Dad in some fake perfect family?
Yeah, no. He was not Asriel. He never would be, and to be honest, he didn’t really want to be. The guy was a huge wimp. But he also wasn’t a huge asshole, so maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.
But that didn’t matter. The fact was, he was just a flower now—and he was content with that. He was fine being by himself; he had been for years, and he would continue to be fine for however long this world lasted.
So, it irked him to no end that this stupid human brat couldn’t just leave him alone.
After everyone had left the underground, he had claimed the entire ruins as his home. It was the most isolated area in the entire underground, and he was positive that no future human or monster would ever be interested in coming by here.
Still, just to be sure, he locked the front doors to ensure that no one could get in—even if they wanted to.
After that, he took it upon himself to keep the place tidy and the flowers healthy.
It wasn’t that he felt obligated to, it’s just that he literally had nothing better to do.
He made a routine of it, and every day he did his best to adhere to it. Discipline was good for the soul, but it was probably even better for the lack thereof.
It had been a couple of days of solitude before the little twerp had appeared. He was busy watering the flowers when he heard a loud crunch from behind.
He turned instantly, vines and roots sprouting from all over to impale the intruder. Frisk simply stood idly over the fallen leaves, unfazed and giving him a small wave.
“Sorry,” they said calmy. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He sneered. “As if you could scare me.”
He suddenly remembered where he was. “How did you even get in here? The doors were locked shut.” The tendrils retracted once more into the ground.
“Yeah, I saw. I just came in through the window instead.”
His eyes zeroed in on them. “There aren’t any windows.”
They shrugged. “Well, that’s how I got in.”
Oh, how he hated them.
“What do you want?”
They looked at him now. They looked the same as when they first met, albeit less dirty and now wearing a green and yellow striped sweater. Their expression was neutral, but even that seemed to radiate a certain level of kindness. Truly living up to the Dreemurr name.
“You don’t have to stay here, y’know? There’s a place for everyone on the surface.”
He scoffed. “I want to stay here. I couldn’t care less for the rest of you.”
They frowned slightly. “I know that’s not true. When I talked to Asriel, he told me that he-“
“I am not Asriel.” He hissed. “That little loser can say what he wants, but I know what I am. I want to be here, and I want you to leave.”
They continued to frown, before speaking up once more. “I know you’re not him, but I know that he felt the same way that you felt. And he felt… lonely.”
They turned and walked towards the entrance of the ruins before stopping. “I’ll get out of your petals for now, but I won’t let you stay here. You deserve better.”
That was definitely not true. Maybe the golden boy did, but Flowey deserved far worse. His use of the powers that came with Determination was nothing short of utterly horrific.
Lying, manipulation, murder, mass murder, genocide—everything he could do, he had done at some point.
His previous atrocities had once bought him great joy, but now they seemed just as mundane as everything else.
Well except for gardening. That was kind of fun, he supposed.
After he was sure they had left, he went to find the window and shut it for good. It wasn’t really a window—more like a crack—but he sealed it regardless. He truly didn’t want to see anyone else again.
Frisk didn’t seem to care about that, and every so often they would somehow manage to slip back into the ruins to find him, much to his annoyance.
He set up the old traps and puzzles of the ruins and added his own modifications to them, but they weren’t very effective in deterring the human.
After he found out that they were creating holes in the wall to get in, he finally just gave up and left the front door unlocked. It was too much of a hassle to try to keep them out.
Every time, they tried their best to convince him to come back with them to the surface. And each time, Flowey did their best to hold back from blasting a pellet in between their eyes. Not that it would ever hit them, but he figured that the self-restraint was still impressive on his part, nonetheless.
They were impossibly stubborn, trying out new ways each time to coerce the flower to leave with them. Their arrival was never consistent, with them being busy with their duties as a monster ambassador or whatever, but it was frequent enough for Flowey to always be on the lookout for them.
He had lost count of how many times they had come by. In truth, he had lost track of time altogether. There was no weather in the ruins, no day and night cycle. Perhaps he should’ve invested in a calendar or something—but that would be meaningless. This was his existence now.
Still, if he had to guess, it would probably have been well over a year by now since he’s stayed in the ruins, and it’s never looked better.
The old woman was kind but had a number of faults. One of them was that she really didn’t understand proper maintenance. The place was littered with cobwebs, decorated with rotten vines, and covered in old, chipped paint.
It took a while, but he was proud to say that once he was done, the ruins were practically shining—an exceptional living space, all his own.
Initially, he thought he would make the old home his main living quarter, but he changed his mind quickly. Something about the place made him feel funny. Instead, he opted to reside at the flower bed at the far end of the ruins.
It was one of the only places in the entire underground where any light from above could reach, and he found the feeling especially pleasant. He was a flower, after all.
Frisk would usually come here to find him, as this was where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t tending to his duties. Yet, they hadn’t come by in a while now.
The longest they’ve gone without bugging the flower was about a week, but they’ve been missing for… longer. Maybe two weeks? Three? A month? Again, he wasn’t very good at tracking time.
He wasn’t worried about them, far from it. He hoped that they truly got the memo that he didn’t want to see them again. It’s just that he knew better. Their stupid Determination would make it so that they wouldn’t stop until they got their way. Which meant that either something had happened, or they were planning some different approach.
Perhaps they were trying to see if he would crack from true isolation—from being starved of their attention for so long. He couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. If they actually thought that, then they really were an idiot.
They would be back—he was sure of it. So, he always kept his guard up, ready for when they inevitably returned with their newest pitch.
Then, finally, he heard it. The front doors creaked open slowly, their groan loud enough to echo through the entire Ruins. He lay still at the flower bed, waiting for them to arrive. He wondered what they would say. Would they apologize for being gone for so long? Would they act normally, as if nothing had happened? Or did they really have some sort of new strategy to try to sway his mind?
He was admittedly curious, and he listened patiently for when their eventual footsteps would be within range.
…
But no one came.
That was odd. He was sure he’d heard the front door open. So where were they? Had he imagined it? Was he losing it? That certainly wouldn’t do.
He burrowed into the ground, tunneling toward the front entrance. Indeed, the door had been opened—and rather rudely left ajar.
That was unlike Frisk. After he began to leave the door unlocked, they would always close the door as soon as they entered to prevent any outside snow from getting in. They had basic manners after all.
He clicked his tongue in distaste at the sight and peered outside, scanning for any sign of them. There was no one—only a vast expanse of snow and wilderness. But as he began to look down, something caught his eye.
Footprints. Upon further investigation, he realized they were in fact hoof prints. This wasn’t Frisk. This was a monster. A two-legged one, at that.
He huffed in annoyance. Why would anyone come here? The entire reason he had chosen this place was to be alone, but it seemed that no one had any intention of respecting his wishes.
Whatever. It was time to find this intruder and give them the boot.
But wait… if they did that then wouldn’t that mean that more people would know about his existence? After Asriel had absorbed everyone’s soul, it thankfully made it so that everyone but Frisk had forgotten about him.
He knew they hadn’t told anyone about him. It was the one request he'd made that they seemed to actually respect. But if they let whoever this was see him—and then let them return to the surface... well, news of a talking flower in the Ruins would spread fast.
The reptilian geek still had the files on him, and she’d put two and two together in an instant. Then he'd have to deal with even more unwanted visitors.
Given that, he had two options. He could either kill them or just hope that they leave soon and never return. But if he killed them then Frisk would be upset with him, and then he’d really be in trouble. So, he only had one option.
What a pain.
Before going into hiding for the foreseeable future, he figured he should at least find out who this mystery monster was. He burrowed once more into the ground and began quickly searching the entire ruins. One of the few benefits of being a flower was that he could be in many places at once.
After only a few moments, he found where they were. The lights in the old house had been turned on, much to his dismay. Objectively, it made sense—it was really the only place in the entire ruins that looked livable to an outside view, even after he had started his cleaning routine.
But he really disliked the idea of anyone else being there. He could barely stand the thought of living there himself—and now some stranger wanted to tour the place without his permission?
Standing in front of the entrance, he gritted his teeth and made his way inside. He silently popped up from the ground right at the doorway, eyes scanning the space for any sign of the intruder.
While the house was silent, there was clear evidence that someone had been there. Items he hadn’t touched in months had been moved, and the welcome mat that he had always kept clean was now stained with wet marks, likely snow from their hooves that they had decided to wipe away.
After clearing the first room, he crept forward and glanced to his left, toward the living room.
The old sofa had been reclined—evidence that it had just been used—but no one was in sight. He huffed again. Chairiel deserved better treatment than this. Burrowing into the room for a closer look, he realized that the kitchen was also devoid of life, most likely abandoned after the intruder realized there wasn’t any food around.
That meant they were in one of the bedrooms right now.
Were they… sleeping? That would explain why it was so quiet. Looking down the hallway, he saw that the door to his old room was slightly ajar.
Slowly and silently, he crept forward until he could peek inside. Then, finally, he saw them.
They were turned away from the door, at the other side of the room next to the shelf inspecting something they held in their hands. They were tall—or at least taller than Frisk and him, of course. Slim, with baggy jeans and a jacket that was definitely a size too large. A large backpack hung from their shoulders, with an old, weathered baseball bat sticking out of it.
But the most noticeable thing about them was the pair of blue antlers protruding from their head. Judging by the way the color faded closer to the roots, it had most likely been dyed to look like that.
As he silently observed them, his eyes were drawn to the object in their hands. It was the old family photo.
He had found it hidden away in Toriel’s room and decided to return it to the frame—just to complete the look. Nothing more. Just an aesthetic. Just something to look at.
Definitely not something to be touching. And especially not by a stranger. Not like that.
“Put that down. Now.”
They instantly placed the photo back on the shelf and spun around, pulling out their bat in one fluid motion. As they dropped into a defensive stance, he took in more details.
A reindeer monster. A girl. Red nose. Freckles. An open jacket revealed a tank top underneath. She looked like a young adult. A few piercings. A necklace. Was that makeup?
So—not a bum, at least. Maybe a rebellious teen running away from home? Either way, she had to find somewhere else to go.
“Angel! I-” she yelled in surprise. Her eyes darted toward the doorway, then dropped to meet the flower’s gaze.
“Shoot! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was down here. I didn’t mean to-” she began.
He scowled and cut her off. “I don’t care. You’re not supposed to be here. Get out.”
She started to lower her bat. “Yeah, sorry, I was just-” She paused, eyeing him with sudden suspicion. “Hold on, you’re right. No one is supposed to be here. What are you doing here?”
She did have a good point.
Thankfully, Flowey was well-versed in the art of deceit.
“I’m doing my job,” he scoffed. “Making sure punks like you stay out and don’t mess with anything down here.”
“So, you’re some kind of cop, then?” She looked him up and down. “Interesting. First time I’m hearing about that.”
Still trying to keep up the façade, he argued, “Yeah, well, not everything’s available to the public. My boss insists we keep these sorts of things under wraps.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh really? So, this is a whole operation going on here, is it? Who’s your boss, then?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
She faked surprise. “Oh, alright then. But you do have a badge, right? I mean, Mayor Asgore said all types of authorities have to carry some sort of identification—even the secret ones.”
“I’ll have you know, we have direct approval from Asgore himself to be here. Unlike you, so why don’t-”
“That’s really interesting,” she interrupted, smiling coyly. “’Cuz Asgore stepped down from his position about a year ago.”
He stifled a curse. She had caught him. What now? He didn’t want to kill her, but he couldn’t think of another solution. Well, that was a lie—he just really didn’t like her, to be frank.
Before he could do anything, she spoke up again.
“I guess we’re both not supposed to be here, huh?”
She walked forward, crossing the room until she stood in front of him.
“Look, I won’t tell anyone else about you being here, as long as you don’t tell anyone about me. Sorry for pressing you like that—I thought it’d be funny.”
She extended her hand.
“Let me introduce myself. My name’s December. December Holiday. But I prefer to be called Dess. It’s what my friends call me.”
He eyed her hand. Did she really think he wanted to be friends with her? He was literally considering the logistics of hiding her remains. Not to mention...
“December Holiday?” He snorted. “That’s a stupid name.”
She frowned and retracted her hand. “Oh yeah? What’s your name, then?”
Suddenly, he felt very self-conscious. Weird.
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cuz it’s also really stupid, right?”
“It’s highly sophisticated!” He seethed.
“So, what is it?”
“… Flowey.”
She stared at him for a moment before cracking and doubling over in laughter.
“What? What’s so damn funny, huh?”
She struggled to get her thoughts out between bursts of laughter.
“You—ha—you said my name was stupid? You’re a flower—wheeze—a flower called Flowey! Imagine if I was—heh—was called Deery or something!”
Perhaps he should make her disappear. Unfortunately, he recognized the name Holiday. They were a rather influential family, as far as he could remember.
“Whatever.” He grumbled. “Just… get out.”
Finally, she stood up straight and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry for bothering you and everything.”
She cleared her throat and slid her bat back into her bag.
“So, uh… do you live here, then?”
“What part of ‘get out’ do you not understand?”
“Right… sorry.”
She awkwardly sidestepped him—he was sprouting directly from the middle of the doorway.
She made her way toward the stairs that led out of the ruins, and Flowey followed close behind.
She raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m just making sure you're actually leaving,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
After around a minute of uncomfortable silence, she decided to test her luck once more. “Any reason you’re down here?”
The flower gave her a mean look. “Yeah, it’s because I don’t want anyone like you bothering me.”
She nods. “I feel you. That’s kind of why I came here too. Just wanted to escape everything for a bit.”
“Yeah, I really don’t care. Just hurry up and walk faster.”
She snorted at that. “I’ve never seen you before. Even when everyone was still in the underground. Have you always been in the ruins?”
He didn’t want to talk right now. Why couldn’t she get the hint?
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually,” she replied, unperturbed by his attitude. “I’ve never seen a flower monster before.”
He didn’t bother to respond to that. They had just arrived at the entrance anyway.
He turned to face her one final time. “Don’t tell anyone about this place, or I swear I’ll-”
“Relax,” she chided. “I already said I wouldn’t, remember?”
She pushed the door open and stepped out into the snow.
“I’ll see you later, alright?”
He scowled and used his vines to slam the door shut. Was she actually planning on returning? Even after he told her not to? What an idiot.
He tunneled away, leaving the front door unlocked. He had learned his lesson with Frisk, after all.
He began the next day as he always did. He had a job as the caretaker of the ruins, and he went to the old house first. Usually, he didn’t have to do much to clean this place, but thanks to that reindeer, he had to spend much longer than usual putting everything back where it belonged.
Still, once he finished, he felt a sense of satisfaction. It was always rewarding to see the results of his hard work. After this, he usually went to scout the rest of the ruins for any irregularities—things like cobwebs or new cracks that dirtied the floor. But by now it was definitely time to tend to the flowers.
He spent maybe five minutes watering the flowers before he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening again. Before there could be any doubt about who it was, he heard her call out to him.
“HEY FLOWER BOY!!! I’M BACK!!!”
He felt his face heat up in rage. This was not about to be a daily thing.
He burrowed over instantly, appearing at the entrance to find her standing there once more.
She grinned when she saw him. “That was way faster than I was-“
“What,” he cut her off, “are you doing here?”
“Oh, right.” She slipped off her backpack and began digging through it. “Well, last time I kind of went through your stuff without asking, and I felt kind of bad. But I noticed that you didn’t have, like, any food. So…”
She pulled out several small bags—junk food ranging from chips to sugary pastries. “I brought a little gift for you this time.”
“I don’t want a ‘gift’. I want to be left alone.”
“Dude, I saw your pantry,” she responded. “It was shiny clean with nothing in it. You’re really telling me you don’t want some...” she glanced at the name on one of the chip bags. “Flameo’s?”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have any food because I don’t need it. I’m a flower, idiot.”
“Uh, yeah? And I’m a deer, moron. Doesn’t mean I don’t like the occasional grub.”
“It’s not-” He breathed in. He was wasting his time here. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”
Before she could say anything else, he had already tunneled away.
For a moment, he hoped that she would listen to him, go away, and never return. Of course, he was wrong.
He heard her well before he saw her. Her hooves made a clop-clop sound that was hard to miss.
He didn’t bother turning around. Perhaps if he seemed engrossed enough in watering the flowers, she might turn and leave.
Again, he was wrong.
“Is this where you live?” she asked.
He groaned. “Why can’t you get the memo already?” He turned to face her now.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s just that…” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “That photo… the one you told me to drop… that was the old royal family, wasn’t it?”
He stiffened. Did she… know?
Hesitantly, he responded. “…Yeah, what about it?”
“Why is it still down here? I figured Toriel would’ve probably taken something like that with her when she left this place.”
“… She’s still not over it. So, she left it here. I’ve been preserving it since.”
She nodded solemnly. “Sounds like you knew her pretty well.”
“I knew all of them. Even…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to talk about them right now.
A small but heavy silence took place, before she spoke up again.
“So, uh… were you a family friend or something?”
“...Something like that. I just happened to spend most of my time in here.”
“Right, right.” She gently lowered herself, taking a seat on the ground. He glared at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her off again.
“So… why are you still here, then?”
“I told you already. I want to be alone.”
“You could be alone on the surface,” she said, shrugging.
He snorted in response. “Yeah, right. The surface—teeming with humans and monsters? No thanks. I’m fine down here, thank you very much.”
“Mhm.” She responded, sounding only half-convinced. “But why do you want to be alone so badly?”
“'Because I’m a flower.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that is pretty rare. But, I mean, monsters have never been very judgmental about appearances. And humans have been pretty accepting-”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. I am literally a flower.”
She raised an eyebrow. “…Yeah, and technically I’m a reindeer-”
“You idiot!” He was shouting now. “I am a flower! A plant! Vegetation! Flora! I am not like you! I’m not a monster!”
She seemed alarmed at first, surprised by his sudden outburst. Then her expression turned skeptical. “So, you mean to tell me you’re not a monster? That you’re actually just a flower called Flowey who just happens-”
Fine. She could have it her way. With a grunt, he used one of his many vines to tear out a petal. He tossed it to the ground in front of him.
“Shit, dude! Are you tryna dust yourself?” She got up and rushed over to him, backpack in hand, and began to inspect the wound on his head.
“I don’t know any healing magic! Here, eat this! It’s monster food, it should… Uh…”
She noticed there was no dust coming out of him. Curiously, she turned to look at the torn petal. It remained on the ground, still intact and not turned to dust at all.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah, like I told you,” he sneered, clenching as he popped out a new petal to replace the one he'd just lost. “I’m not a monster. Just a flower.”
“… No kidding.” She backed off, but not before grabbing his fallen petal. She began to closely examine it in her hand, shifting it between her fingers.
“You’re… actually a flower. I mean, how does that even work?” She looked at him, confusion written all over her face.
“I’ve always been like this for as long as I can remember.” Although his earlier attempts at lying had been unsuccessful, he could at the very least keep his true identity hidden from her.
“Okay, so you’re just like a magic talking flower.” She tries to rationalize. “Where do you come from, then? Were you…uh…”
“Born?” He replied smugly.
“I was gonna say planted, but yeah.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t. Instead, I gained consciousness in a flower bed similar to this one many years ago. My ‘birth’ seems to have been a result of the excess magic here in the underground culminating into a single flower.” He explained.
During his lifetime, he had found that the easiest way to fabricate a story was to sprinkle just a little bit of truth into it. The result, in this case, was a rather believable origin story that anyone could buy into, assuming they didn’t know any further details.
She took a seat, clearly trying to process what he was saying. “Why didn’t anyone know about you? Well, I guess the royal family did, but news of a magic talking flower should be more well-known, right?”
“It was per my request. They sympathized with my case, and in return, I did my best to act as a friend to them.” Again, not exactly a total lie.
“That makes sense, I guess, but you didn’t really answer my question.” She rested her chin on one of her hands. “Why do you want to be alone? And don’t say it’s because you’re a flower. I need more than that.”
He rolled his eyes. Well, at least she was buying it.
“But it is the truth. I’m not a monster, and definitely not a human. I’m my own thing. I can’t relate to any of you, and to be honest, I don’t want to. I’d prefer to just be on my own when I can.”
“You don’t get lonely or anything? I mean, you were friends with the old royal family, weren’t you?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, and look what happened to them. When you’ve been around for as long as I have, you start to realize that the best company you can keep is yourself.”
She stayed quiet after that, just eyeing him. For a moment, he thought she was pitying him, but her face held a neutral expression, making it impossible to tell what she was feeling. Then, she spoke again.
“…How old are you? You talk like you’ve been around forever.”
He purposely appeared to think on that before giving a response. “A couple of centuries old, I believe. It’s hard to tell after a while.”
Once again, not a full lie. If he accounted for all the previous Saves he’s had, it would easily add up to at least a hundred years of time.
“And that’s why you’re out here by yourself? Because it’s what you’re used to?”
“Essentially, yeah.”
“Yeesh,” she said. “That sounds awful.”
He clicked his tongue. “Well, if it’s so bad, then what are you doing down here? Running away from Mommy and Daddy?”
“My dad’s dead. Has been for a while,” she said nonchalantly.
He was tempted to make a quip about that, but fought against the urge. Something told him that would be a bad idea. Perhaps Frisk had been rubbing off on him.
“It’s just my mom, my little sister, and me. The three of us. I love my sis, but my mom… Well, sometimes I just need a break.” For the first time since she’d gotten here, she took her eyes off of him to look at the side of the cavern.
“So that’s why I came down here. I figured no one would else be here, but I guess I was wrong.”
“If you wanted to be alone, then why’d you come back.”
“You seemed interesting. And I think I was right. “She turned her head to face him again. “Plus, it looked like you needed someone to talk to.”
He scoffed. “Look, I’ve been tolerating you for a while now, but I’m not looking to be ‘pals’. I’ve been fine with the solo-life, and-“
“Don’t get it twisted, I’m not saying we have to be friends or anything.” She interrupts. “It’s just that I could also use someone to talk to.”
She had to be stupid. Why would he care if she wanted someone to talk to? He couldn’t give a damn about the issues of all these little people. No one mattered—not him, not her, not anyone.
Noticing his refusal to respond, she continued. “Come on, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve stuck around. You could’ve popped into the ground at any point and left if you really wanted to be alone, but you haven’t.”
He grumbled. She acted like she wouldn’t go looking for him if he did that.
“We can make it like a deal, if you want. In exchange for lending me your ear (Do you even have those?), I won’t tell anyone about your secret hiding spot. It’ll be kept just between you and me. All you gotta do is hear me talk sometimes.”
“… Wouldn’t be much of a conversation if you’re the only one speaking,” he mumbled finally.
She grinned. “You can talk back if you want to. Personally, I’d like you to.” She extended her hand once more for a handshake.
“… You’re weird, you know that, right?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you say, Flowey.”
He conjured a particularly sturdy root and finally met her hand. “As long as you don’t bring anyone else, do what you want, December Holiday.”
She was beaming now and continued to shake the wooden tendril enthusiastically. “Yeah, I promise. Also, call me Dess. It sounds way better than December.”
He pulled the root back into the ground, escaping her grasp. “I’m not calling you that. We just said we weren’t going to be friends.”
“You remembered? So, you do care!”
“Goodbye, December,” he hissed.
She giggled before turning to make her way out. “See ya, flower boy.” She raised her hand to wave at him, not bothering to turn around. As if she already knew that he was watching her.
She was right, of course.