Flowey could go wherever he pleased. It was the one benefit of being a flower: there were no barriers beneath the soil. Walls and rivers and canyons all came to a stop eventually and Flowey could go beneath them. Like flight in reverse, he thought, although sifting through dirt and worms was much less glamorous. The ruins were otherwise cut off from the rest of the underground, but Flowey could go there as easily as he could go anywhere else.
The humans always showed up in the ruins. Flowey paid little attention to them. He’d taunt them every now and then, sure, but all in all they weren’t more interesting than any of the monster children he’d already grown tired of.
Not like his old best friend, who was very interesting indeed.
Frisk was never Frisk to Flowey. They were a ghost from the past, something different yet so familiar at the same time – somewhat like Flowey himself. His first instinct was to try killing them. He’d reload the save, of course, and see just how much of his old friend was really there. It was only when the old goat stopped him that he realized he couldn’t reload. He no longer had an infinite supply of chances at his disposal. For the first time as a flower, he felt fear at this loss of control.
Of course he could still feel fear. He was only stripped of one emotion, and out of all of them it had to be love. But love was for fools anyways, right?
He saw Frisk kill Toriel once. There was a time when this would have made him sad, even as a flower, but those days were long gone. Instead, he almost felt gleeful at the situation. He couldn’t love her anymore, why should she be around at all? What purpose did she serve in his world except an annoyance and a constant reminder of what he couldn’t have?
And then Frisk reloaded.
Flowey wasn’t sure what had happened at first. He’d never seen someone else reload before, and he certainly didn’t expect to remember it although it seemed that he still carried slight remnants of his former power. This time, Frisk didn’t lay a finger on Toriel and it was like nothing had ever happened. But he didn’t let them get away with it, no. He knew, and if he couldn’t do anything else he’d at least remind them of what they’d done. Maybe they’d feel guilty. Maybe they just wanted to see what’d happen when they killed her. Either way, they’d know that someone else knew what they had done.
From that moment on, Flowey was never far away. He lurked just out of sight – “off screen”, as Dr. Alphys might say about one of her silly video games. He burrowed underneath the ground if Frisk turned around, quick enough that only the briefest flash of yellow could be seen. The only time Flowey left them well enough alone was when they were getting close with someone else, which was when he took the time to do the same.
Undyne was easy enough. She was already a passionate supporter of Asgore’s plan, and when an innocent flower-monster warned her of the latest human menace to set foot in their world she was ready to jump into action.
Flowey was almost disgusted with himself for inspiring such righteous passion, misdirected as it was. He had faint memories of similar passions for a lost friend, but the feeling never returned as hard as he tried to get it back.
Tough as she was, Undyne had undying faith in monster-kind. She was always so surprised when he decided to kill her, on those saves where he was feeling particularly wrathful.
The look in her eyes when he delivered the killing strike was his favorite thing to watch and he wanted it back. Maybe she could do away with Frisk so he could do away with her, again and again and again.
Papyrus was at once Flowey’s favorite and least favorite monster. He was an easy favorite at first: the skeleton seemed to be an endless fountain of friendship who always had some wild new idea for a nightly activity. Out of all the monsters, Papyrus’s companionship took the longest to grow stale and he was one of the few Flowey still made an effort to talk to even though in recent saves he hadn’t put himself out there as much.
Yet, Papyrus was also the one monster who had never gotten angry with Flowey. No matter how hard he tried to be the worst he possibly could be, Papyrus didn’t show a second of anger towards him. In fact, his death always and without fail resulted in words of encouragement to try and be better from now on. How could one monster be so silly and naïve yet so unbreakable?
Flowey visited Papyrus shortly after his ‘date’ with the human. As always, Papyrus insisted on getting him a chair. Flowers couldn’t sit in chairs, but in some discarded human book Papyrus had read that a good host always gets their guest a chair and had insisted on it from that point on. He had a chair with no legs and a hole cut in the seat that he placed over Flowey every time he came to chat. Absolutely useless in every way, but Flowey didn’t bother arguing anymore.
“About the human,” Flowey said.
“Ah, yes! What a lovely human!” Papyrus said, “A shame about their feelings for me and my magnificent cooking, but I’m sure my friendship will suffice.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to capture them, even a little?” Flowey said, “I’ll bet if you brought them straight to Asgore yourself, the two of you would be able to convince him to give up the soul collecting.”
Flowey was far from sure about that. Actually, he was pretty sure that Asgore would insist on fighting Frisk on the spot.
“But that would deprive them of the opportunity to make so many wonderful friends along the way! Why, I’ll bet Undyne is their bestie already!” Papyrus said.
“Actually…can you keep a secret?” Flowey said.
“I’d never make the royal guard if I couldn’t even guard a secret!” Papyrus said.
He wasn’t actually great at keeping secrets, but was also pretty sure that telling your brother didn’t count as much as telling a stranger did.
“I heard some gossip around town. The human told someone that after they killed Asgore, they’d use the souls to come back and rid the world of monsters for good,” Flowey said, faking a nervous tone in his voice, “I’m…I’m really scared.”
“What? Oh, you know how gossip gets mangled along the line,” Papyrus said, “Why, I’ll bet it was Snowdrake telling an ill-timed joke again.”
And then Papyrus offered Flowey some dinner. Flowey left before he got the chance to find out what “dirt spaghetti” was.
Flowey had never spoken with Dr. Alphys face-to-face again. It would've been awkward. They did, however, exchange a series of online comments during the brief moments in which Flowey had access to someone else's computer.
What should you do if you really want someone to like you but you don't think they'll like the "real" you?
Have you considered lying?
Lying works wonders.
I've...I've considered that a lot before, actually. For other reasons. But this time I kind of want to see if someone likes the "real" me?? Does that make sense??
It doesn't even seem like YOU like the real you, so why do you think anyone else will?
You should definitely lie.
Y...yeah. That's what I was thinking already. Oh well. Thanks for your help.
Flowey never really spoke with Sans. Something about him was…unsettling, for a monster that claimed to be the weakest in the underground. He caught a glimpse of Flowey for the briefest of moments and spoke:
“Not so fun when you’re not in control, huh?”
And then Flowey blinked and Sans was gone.
As Frisk got closer and closer to Asgore, Flowey began to feel something he hadn't felt in a long, long time: fondness for another being. Not love, no, but Frisk's determination combined with the fact that they never, ever fought back (well, aside from that one little mistake they made with Toriel) disgusted Flowey so much that eventually that disgust turned into a sort of passion. At last, Flowey felt some sense of newness and excitement again. To steal the souls from Asgore and fight Frisk himself...the thought made him almost giddy. Frisk was something he'd been longing for: a nemesis.
He imagined taking his power back and killing Frisk again and again and again. Finally, a worthy opponent, someone who'd understand what was going on. Someone who was used to having saves and would feel all the more pain for having lost them. Flowey could amuse himself with that for a long, long time.
And if the enjoyment he derived from that ever dried up, he could shatter the barrier. Somewhere on the surface there were billions of souls who all thought they were safe from real monsters. What would they ever expect from a plain and friendly flower?