A Place Called Home

The sound that awoke Frisk was unmistakable. It wasn't a loud noise, just a series of small ones: a sharp breath, a stifled hiccup and some hasty sniffles. None of them were unfamiliar to their ears, but rarely heard in the dead of night. Their eyes fluttered open, taking in little more than inky darkness all around.

Their sight gradually cleared up over the next few seconds. The room was dark, as one would expect however far it might have been into the night, but it wasn't exactly pitch-black. Soft moonlight beamed through the window, casting a line of white light along its path. The little starry patches on the wall were glinting in their fluorescent light, still full of energy, bringing a slice of the universe into Frisk's room.

Finding the source of the noise required next to no light though. The tiny figure perched upon their chest picked his head up, ceasing every sound once he noticed the change in Frisk's breathing. They could hear him swallow, trying to impose some measure of calm, with not much success.

The human shifted ever-so-slightly, crawling up the bed just enough to rest against the headboard. His little roots grabbed hold of their pajama shirt for support. Even in the dark, they could see Flowey's beady black eyes, and the golden hue of his petals.

"Can't sleep?" they spoke up, voice somewhere between a whisper and a soft groan.

A dismissive grunt was all he uttered, slumping down on their chest again. With their senses all reactivated, they realized the shirt felt a little bit wet over a spot, which explained the sobbing noise that awakened them in the first place. Flowey sighed and relented, propping himself up a little, just as much as Frisk had.

"I hoped you wouldn't wake up." he said.

Frisk's first instinct was to play it off as a joke, but this wasn't the right time. Flowey has been around long enough for them to know his mood-range was all over place, ranging from playful to scary, and his capacity for jokes varied just as much. Right now, he was not at all receptive to even just a mild ribbing. He was in a dark place, not just physically, where even soft jests could backfire.

"You know you can wake me up whenever you like." they said. "Is something wrong?"

Flowey swallowed again and peeked around. Although Frisk couldn't see properly, it looked as if he was motioning around the room with his leaves.

"This. This is wrong. All of it is wrong." his voice shifted from normal, to barely audible by the end. "I'm wrong."

A lump formed in Frisk's throat. Flowey needn't even continue for them to know what he meant. There was a lot of bitterness and hurt in Flowey, both of which they were very well aware of. While they've done everything they could to keep all his bad thoughts at bay, sometimes even all that combined effort just wasn't enough. Sometimes it would all spill over.

"Why would you say that?" they asked.

They raised a hand, slowly moving it towards their chest, where the hint of a golden crown was moving about. As they got closer, they felt Flowey move again, his pair of leaves brushing against their palm. It wasn't an invitation though, he was trying to swat it away. Frisk lay their hand to rest next to him, not wanting to push him for the moment being.

"Because I don't belong here."

"You do. We've talked about this."

"And you still won't listen!"

His voice rose in both pitch and volume, for just a moment. He realized the mistake and covered his mouth, but even as they both listened in silence, there was no other sound outside the room anywhere. However late it may have been, Toriel was likely sound asleep.

"I shouldn't be here." he muttered, his petals closing up a bit. "I'm just trouble for you. I know you mean well, but that's the truth. I'm loud, I'm greedy, I'm angry and... and I do bad things. I hurt people I shouldn't. I hurt you, too!"

"We were playing-"

"And I still took it too far." he continued, drowning out Frisk's words. "I pushed hard, I could have injured you. I could injure anyone."

He paused once more, breathing in deeply. "I could kill anyone."

"You won't."

"But I could, I can and-"

"You won't." Frisk's voice was just as soft as always, but those who spent a lot of time around them could tell which sentences were heavier than the rest. This one had the force of a storm behind it and yet so few would ever realize that.

They reached out again, this time ignoring Flowey's much more feeble attempts at pushing them away. The first touch made him shudder as always, but he didn't reel back from it. As much as he hated letting anyone close to his stem or petals, there were some very minor exceptions. Their thumb smudged another steadily growing teardrop running down his warm cheek.

"You could, but I know you won't." they said, soft smile beaming through the dark. "You're better now."

"I'm not. I just pretend like I am."

"You're trying. That's enough for me."

"Is it? I could be lying to you all the time."

"Do you feel like you need to?"

Flowey scoffed, but still didn't pull back. Getting him to open up about anything was always the hardest part, the fact he didn't just bolt off back to his pot, or just slump into silence, was already a good sign.

"Why?" he asked, brushing aside a proper answer. "Why bring me up here? Why bother with my stupid things every day? Why do you care?"

Frisk shifted once again, climbing into a steady sit. Flowey held on for a moment, but gravity took hold and left him perching in Frisk's hands, just above their lap. Even with his sadness, or perhaps because of it, his roots softly curled around Frisk's hand and fingers for support. He may not have admitted to it, much less to himself, but he had no intention of letting go right now.

"Because I know what it's like." they said, the lump in their throat making its presence known again. "Not a being flower, or a monster, or , just... staying away not to bother anyone. Because you think that's all you can do, all you're good for. Because you think it's better that way."

It was Frisk's turn to try and compose themselves, although a wayward smile found its place on their face within the rapid shifts of happy and sad. Flowey reached up and pulled on the pajama shirt again. The human's hands complied, lifting him just enough so the tip of his leaf could touch Frisk's cheek.

"But that's not true." they shook their head briefly. When they looked at him again, there was a kind of fire in their eyes, one that only barely struck Flowey as a distant memory of another. "It doesn't help anyone and it doesn't help you, either. Flowey, you shouldn't be alone. You're here, because I care. Mom cares. Dad cares. And everyone else does, too..."

Frisk couldn't continue the thought, not without having to break their words for a loud sniffle. Flowey remained just as silent, his petals opening and closing ever-so-slightly to the myriad of emotions running through him. The one he was looking for was still missing, but there were so many others that felt significant, and some positive ones for a change. He finally looked up again, smacking a leaf against Frisk's open palm.

"You're... so cheesy." he said, the slight overtone of mockery making the human respond to his growing smile in kind. "Stupid, too. So-so stupid."

Frisk snorted, lifting a hand to brush the barely-formed droplets in their eyes. "No change there, right?"

"Nope. Probably too late now, too."

He shuffled over and snaked up Frisk's left arm, all the way to their shoulder. The motion made them giggle several times over, especially when he hit minor ticklish spots.

"Fine. Then I'll just stay right here. But I'm warning you, I'll keep eating your candies. I'll take your toys. I'll pester you when you're trying to do homework." he said, either not noticing or making no remark of the fact that Frisk was happily nodding to every part of his diabolical scheme. "And then you'll know how really awful I can get."

Frisk couldn't hold on and just chuckled at his little list of planned, wholly evil deeds. The flower also couldn't really bottle up his amusement from much longer and laughed along, much of the pent-up nerve evaporating. Of course, this was merely a step along a long and arduous journey. They weren't exactly naive enough to think this would be the last time he was consumed by self-doubt, but it was a good reminder how neither of them walked this road alone.

Once the laughter died down, Flowey leaned on Frisk's cheek, his eyes momentarily drifting onto the bit of the Milky Way plastered along their wall.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked, knowing full-well that neither would be able to fall back asleep like this.

Frisk glanced at their desk nearby, taking note of the various dark shapes scattered about; pens, pencils, markers in every direction, luckily unchecked by Toriel for the past few days now.

"I have an idea." they said, reaching out for the nightlight nearby.

-     -     -

Day in and day out, Toriel tried to convince herself that her minor bouts of worrying were unfounded. Once before she went to bed and as soon as she got up, the instinct to check on the kids set her an auto-pilot. The time they've spent on the surface had gone without major incidents; the kids slept when they needed to and every morning would greet them still in bed, snoozing on whatever configuration the previous night may have left them. It was just some leftover anxiety, that always drove her to double-check nonetheless.

And yet every morning helped reassure her that things were alright. There were always some things off, of course. Frisk was a tussling sleeper and would always end up halfway dangling off the edge of the bed, with pillows tossed around like debris after demolition. Cleaning dirt off the sheets was almost second nature as well, but with Flowey around, that seemed almost inevitable. Even with these minor inconveniences though, they were good kids. The unfounded fear of opening the door to an empty room, with signs of a hasty exit or dust setting on the furniture from the lack of any occupants was always there, but settled into a constant, if distant presence.

She rid herself of these thoughts even before her paw touched the doorknob. Such dark thoughts had no place so early into what was shaping up to be a quaint morning. Instead, she sighed and turned, opening up the door.

Peeking in, the first look on her face was a bit of a frown. Frisk and Flowey were fast asleep, but instead of on their bed like they should have been, the two were slumped all over the table, drawing supplies scattered about. She made a note to have them pick those up later, but even her mild displeasure faded almost immediately.

With surprising finesse for someone her size, she carefully crept in and approached them. They didn't even stir, very much suggesting they stayed up far longer the previous night, than she would have allowed for. She reached out and picked Frisk up, careful on where and how to hold them. Flowey was just as easy to carry, considering he was still curled around Frisk's arm. Without causing so much as a stir, Toriel carried them over and tucked them right in.

She looked over the kids again, the sight of them making her smile. Stepping over to the desk again, she had half a mind of putting everything away and save the scolding for next time. There was indeed a bit of a mess, from drawing supplies to wayward candy wrappers, confirming her suspicions about a top-secret storage.

However, it was the centerpiece of the blast zone, that really caught her attention.

It was recently made family portrait, drawn with both crayons and pencils, instrument seemingly changing at random intervals. She picked the drawing up, carefully stifling a soft chuckle. In the middle was Frisk, surrounded by both her and Asgore. As usual, their horns were comically large, enough to be considered lethal weapons in their own right. Off to the sides were all their friends, with heavily varying degrees of quality. Sans and Papyrus were hit with perhaps the kinder end of artistic freedom, whereas Mettaton's box form was perhaps the most accurate, though it owed more to being bog-simple. Meanwhile Alphys and Undyne more often resembled a formless blob and a particularly angry stick figure, respectively. One thing was notably different though, something that caught her eye more than anything.

Whenever Flowey added himself to a drawing, he usually placed himself apart from everyone else. If Frisk was hugging it out with Toriel and Asgore, their plant friend was usually in the far end of the drawing. Anywhere, but around family. She never pried, but there was always some sadness involved in their talks; sadness that often extended into his everyday behavior. There was a strange, artificial distance between him and everyone else, one only Frisk knew how to tentatively cross.

Approaching the two rascals once more, she leaned down and planted a little kiss on each of their cheeks. They both fidgeted for just a moment, but continued to snooze without interruption. The two were very different in behavior and temperament, but at the end of the day, they were both her children. She was more than happy to provide for them, for as long as they wanted. Every day felt like that gap between them would lessen, little by little.

Looking at the drawing again, it really did seem like that distance wasn't so insurmountable after all. For right in the middle of the drawing, nestled comfortably within Frisk's loving grasp, was a carefully drawn crayon flower, smiling brightly at her.