Frisk didn’t know what to do. The idea they’d had… it seemed solid. Good.

… so good.

But there were possible complications. Possible costs of a sort that maybe they didn’t want to pay. Being vulnerable with Sans in some ways was easy, but… well, vulnerability was a risk. And this vulnerability ran deep.

How badly could things go? And could they handle it?

They wandered as they thought, feeling uncertain and lost. Afraid. If only Sans just accepted them, then it would be easier. He could just accept or reject the idea, and they could just trust that things would be okay. They’d be fine either way. But the idea of him doing more than rejecting the idea…

“Howdy, Frisk!” they heard a cheerful voice say, and they smiled.

“Flowey,” they said. “It’s good to see you.”

They were walking close to his house… maybe on some level they wanted to speak to him.

“Same,” he said, and gave them a quizzical look. “What’s wrong?”

“Er, nothing,” Frisk said and Flowey huffed at them.

“You should tell me,” Flowey pressed.

“I, er, I’m feeling kinda… melancholic and sappy,” they said. “I don’t think you want to know, really.”

“I always want to know,” Flowey corrected and they smiled. “Even if it’s stupid.”

“It’s totally stupid,” they said with a rough laugh. “You’ll hate it so much.”

“Good,” Flowey said.

“Not here, though,” Frisk said, glancing around.

“My house isn’t far,” Flowey said.

Frisk nodded and extended an arm. Flowey could move, and move fast when he needed to, but moving at a human’s walking pace was annoying. He extended a vine and pulled himself up onto their shoulder, wrapping a few small roots and vines around their shoulder and neck to anchor himself.

“What have you been up to lately?” Frisk asked as they walked.

“I decided to learn how to fix cars,” Flowey said. “A few more months and I’ll be a certified car mechanic.”

“Really?” Frisk asked. “I didn’t know you were into cars.”

“I’m not,” Flowey said and Frisk snorted. “But they’re kinda interesting, since there weren’t any in the underground. I figured it could be good to know.”

“Do you drive?” Frisk asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t like to,” Flowey said. “It’s annoying to have to follow the rules and stay on the road.”

“It’s so ridiculous to me that you aren’t into cars and don’t even like to drive, but you’re becoming a car mechanic,” Frisk said.

“It’s different,” Flowey said, shrugging with his vines.

“It is that,” Frisk said softly.

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” someone called out, looking over at Frisk. “I love what you did with the flower!”

Frisk snickered and then called back, “Thanks! This is my favorite flower in the world!”

“You’re right, you are feeling sappy today,” Flowey commented, and Frisk laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Frisk said. “How long do you think the mechanic thing will hold your interest for?”

“Probably not longer than it’ll take to get certified,” Flowey said. “But I do like to collect certifications. Especially now that I actually get to keep the proof of them.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Frisk said. “How many skills and stuff have you learned?”

Flowey just laughed at that, like Frisk had asked something ridiculous.

They supposed they kind of had.

Normally, they fell into the same patterns of conversation with Flowey. He’d extracted every glimmer of detail he could about their first timeline - he understood why his previous self had wanted the memories erased, but now that he wasn’t facing the loss of everything, he would rather know.

Beyond that, they’d usually discuss Flowey’s life and experiences. Mostly, Frisk would ask about the distant memories of Asriel and Chara’s time together. They liked Flowey the most when he talked about that - he’d get lost in the memories so thoroughly it was almost like he could actually feel the emotions, rather than just remembering them. The gentle smiles on his face, the real smiles, would always tug at Frisk’s heart.

They’d also ask about whatever his entertainment of the day was. So far, since reaching the surface, he’d read a few dozen books, played a ton of games, gotten involved in local theater shows, had a lot of fun helping in Frisk’s ambassador role, volunteered as a monster book reader at several human elementary schools, travelled a good chunk of the world, and acquired money in hopefully legal ways that Frisk had decided to never question.

The future knowledge from the 6-months-in-the-future determination experiments had probably related to that. As well as Frisk’s agreement that they had no say in what Flowey did during dead-end timelines. There was the caveat that Frisk would also not discourage Sans from solving Flowey-related problems, so Flowey didn’t push it too far. Still, whatever he’d learned, and how, as well as how he applied that knowledge… as long as it didn’t drive Sans to murder him, Frisk was just not going to deal with it.

The end results were nice, though, Frisk mused as they made it to Flowey’s house. It was practically a mansion.

“I guess it was a silly question,” Frisk said, after maybe too long a moment in thought. “I… well, maybe it’s also a silly question, but did you ever learn to play music?”

“Of course I have,” Flowey said. “Want me to play for you?”

“That’d be nice,” Frisk said, and Flowey looked pleased.

He guided them through the house to a room they’d never visited before - of which there were a number - and they gaped at what was inside. It was full to bursting with instruments. A piano, violin, guitar, harp, a drum set, a flute, and more… it was practically a whole music shop in here.

“You play all of these?” Frisk asked.

“Are you kidding?” Flowey said. “I play more than just these. These ones are just my favorites.”

They paused a moment.

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve lived?” Frisk asked.

“You know how hard it is to try to keep track of that sort of thing,” Flowey said with another shrug, hopping off their shoulder and looking at the room thoughtfully.

He traced a vine over several instruments before settling on the piano, pulling himself up onto the bench and gesturing for Frisk to sit next to him. They did so and he pulled out a few more vines. They gracefully moved over the keys and Frisk let out an audible gasp as the music played.

“It’s beautiful,” they breathed as the rich melody filled the air.

“Thanks,” Flowey said. “I had to teach myself to play. No hands, you know.”

Or feet, Frisk thought as they watched him press the foot pedals with another set of vines.

“It’s incredible,” Frisk said.

The music was masterful. Sweet and dancing, lively and charming, a thing of beauty and art. Emotion was rich within the notes.

And it was nothing but an amusement to the master of those notes. Such skill, and yet a complete inability to even hear the full beauty of his own creation.

The power of the song, the reminder of Flowey’s loss, combined with their own aching heart… a few tears gathered in Frisk’s eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Flowey asked, sounding confused as he glanced up at them.

This didn’t interfere with his playing, naturally.

“It’s really sappy,” they said.

“Tell me anyway,” Flowey said.

“Really, though, I don’t want to say anything that’ll hurt you,” Frisk said.

Flowey gave them a look.

“I don’t think that’s something you should worry about,” Flowey said dryly. “Just tell me already.”

“This music…” they said, and sighed. “It’s amazing. It’s so beautiful, so sweet, so rich with feeling… and it’s killing me that I can feel it, but you can’t.”

His vines slowed on the keys, the music fading away. He seemed thoughtful. After a moment, he played a new song, and they choked.

It was the music box melody. It was Asriel’s favorite song. He started with a very simple rendition of it that grew into something richer, deeper.

This was not helping with their “feeling sappy” problem and they wiped away a few more tears.

“It’s not quite true, that I can’t feel it,” Flowey said, still seeming thoughtful. “This melody was important to me then. When I had a soul. I can’t feel it right, not now, but if I focus, I can remember what it felt like. It’s not that different, feeling something and remembering feeling it, right?”

This was also not helping.

They laughed bitterly and wiped away a few more tears.

“I wish I could share how I felt,” they said forlornly. “I feel strongly enough for two people, easily.”

“That’d be nice,” Flowey said. “I am kind of curious. I did feel things in the monster souls, and I could almost feel things with the human souls. I wonder if I’d feel anything from your soul. You know, considering the weird connection between us.”

They went still.

“Do you want to absorb my soul?” they asked.

“Hee hee, is that what you think I’m doing?” Flowey asked, grinning at them as he played. “I wasn’t angling for anything this time, Frisk. I was just curious.”

“No, I mean it,” Frisk said. “I’m not bothered. Do you want to?”

“Well, I am curious,” he said.

“Go ahead and kill me, then,” Frisk said, but Flowey spoke before they could say more.

“Not right now,” Flowey said. “When did you last save?”

“Obviously, I need to save first,” Frisk said with a laugh. “Do you mind if I make a save point in here?”

“Go ahead,” Flowey said, an odd note in his voice.

He watched with a faintly regretful and jealous expression as they focused their will, allowing the beauty of the song to drive their heart, to fuel their determination. They wanted to share this with him, and they would. There wasn't any worry about Sans, either - he'd long since agreed that tiny resets that wouldn't affect him were fine, whenever Frisk wanted.

Time anchored and power rushed through them. They weren’t injured, so it left no changes in its wake.

They let their hand fall from the save point and looked back at the piano, where Flowey continued to play.

“Whenever you like,” they said.

Without pausing in his music, a sharp vine drove at their chest, piercing their heart. They grumbled out an “ow” as they died, but smiled at him.

“Every time, really?” Flowey asked as the blackness faded and the music resumed with hardly a missed beat.

“Gimme a break,” they said. “Being stabbed physically is really uncomfortable.”

“It kinda worked,” Flowey said with a smile. “I didn’t get much, but I felt a little sad.”

Frisk laughed at that.

“Well, if you want to feel sad, then, I’ve got you covered,” they said wryly.

“Why are you feeling so sad, anyway?” Flowey asked.

“I’m not, exactly,” Frisk said. “I’m just… feeling lost.”

“Okay, then why are you feeling lost?” Flowey asked.

They sighed and looked away.

“Frisk,” Flowey said. “You should tell me these things.”

“Why’s that?” Frisk asked.

“Because I want to know,” Flowey said.

Frisk just laughed and shook their head.

“Alright, alright,” they said. “I guess. So I kind of have an idea on how to progress things, to get Sans to remember. But I’m worried it could also mess things up. I’m afraid.”

“What’s the plan?” Flowey said.

“I’d rather not go into it,” Frisk said. “Thing is, the biggest thing you lost from your memories of the first timeline is that I’m… actually kind of a coward.”

“Seriously?” Flowey asked.

They nodded.

“I was incredibly driven by fear back then,” they said. “The change I made, where I became a thing of devotion to Sans… that was supposed to help with that problem. To stop it. I can’t be afraid of the consequences of my choices if my choices belong to someone else, after all.”

They sighed and fidgeted with their hands.

“This is different,” they said softly. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. And yet, I am. So I’m feeling… lost.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“What is it you’re afraid of?” Flowey asked.

“I…” they said, and then shook their head.

“You can’t just not tell me,” Flowey said. “You aren’t that awful of a person.”

They snorted at that.

“You sure about that?” they asked.

“Killing people in a timeline you plan to reset isn’t being awful,” Flowey said. “Refusing to tell your best friend something he wants to know - that’s just mean.”

“You have problems, Flowey,” Frisk said with a chuckle.

“My biggest one is my best friend is being mean,” Flowey said.

“Fine! Fine, Flowey,” Frisk said, laughing again.

Flowey grinned, a victorious expression.

“But… look, it’s not easy to tell you,” Frisk said. “You, specifically. I know you hate Sans, and you know I love him.”

Flowey shifted to a simpler, more melancholic song.

“I don’t hate Sans,” Flowey said. “Not exactly, anyway. Mostly I’m just annoyed at how murder-happy the bastard was, especially in my earliest days. I was trying to be nice back then, you know? I tried to be nice to everyone. But if I was spotted by Sans at all in that first month, the moment he guessed I was the flower from Alphys’ experiments, then that was it. No mercy, no discussion, just killing me.

“I was honestly trying to be everyone’s friend, and this piece of garbage would murder me just for existing. And back then I was confused why he seemed to actually change slightly over the timelines, getting more and more hostile as time went on. I get it now, ever since you mentioned Sans and Alphys were monitoring the timelines. But then, I thought he was just seeing something on my face, since that’s all he’d comment on before murdering me.”

Frisk frowned and nodded.

“It’s bullshit that Sans just decided that since I was a soulless thing made in an experiment, I should die just like that,” Flowey grumbled. “I tried to befriend him, but I never managed it. The closest I got was a friendly acquaintance. And that was only possible if at least three months had passed since the start of my loops. Even then, I’d always have this feeling like he was watching me, with hostility just beneath the surface, ready to kill me at the first sign of trouble.”

Flowey huffed.

“And worse, I saw how he interacted with everyone else. What is wrong with people? It’s annoying that anyone thinks they’re friends with Sans. He never tells anyone anything, he’s never real with anybody. He’s a grinning, pretending-to-be-friendly, piece of garbage. Honestly, the biggest problem with what you said isn’t that I hate Sans and am upset at you for being in love with him. The problem is I can’t get how you can even see anything in Sans to love. There’s nothing there - just dumb jokes and underneath it all, he’s as dark and hostile as my worst loops.”

Frisk had to admit, they really understood why Flowey saw Sans that way.

“I’ve seen a lot of that, too,” they said. “But I have to say, it does sound like you hate him.”

Flowey gave them a look and they flushed.

Right. Hate was probably too strong an emotion for the mostly numb Flowey.

“Er, sorry,” they said, and switched to a topic he’d like more. “Did you ever end up killing him?”

“Not in any sort of satisfying way,” Flowey said with a sigh. “If ever he had any idea that danger might be coming at all, nothing worked. He was always so fast to teleport away. Pretty much the only plans that ever killed him were when I manipulated Papyrus to set things up - and that failed most of the time, too - or when it was something like luring him to CORE and making the whole thing self destruct. Which also failed sometimes. I had to disable all sorts of alarm systems, and it took like twenty tries…”

Flowey sounded annoyed again and Frisk grinned.

“What about when he was sleeping?” Frisk asked.

“Getting into his room never worked, and outside of his room, his naps are a lie,” Flowey said. “Just like everything else.”

Frisk snickered.

“He’s pretty capable,” Frisk said.

“He’s past capable,” Flowey grumbled, annoyed. “I bet he has a kill count higher than either of us.”

Frisk laughed.

“Okay, I’ll take that bet,” Frisk said. “Of course, we’d need to figure out your kill count and get Sans to admit to his.”

“Alright, fine, it’s not higher than mine,” Flowey said with another huff. “But that’s only because I could kill the same person repeatedly and he just wouldn’t have realistically had access to that many options, no matter where he’s from.”

“You’re probably right, but there might be some possible worlds where he could have had that many victims,” Frisk pointed out.

“True,” Flowey said. “Still, it’s probably higher than yours.”

“Yeah,” Frisk agreed. “Funny as this topic is, though, the thing is, I honestly have seen more in him. It’s subtle, but especially in that first timeline…”

They sighed.

“We clicked in ways that - well, maybe I was reading into things, but it looked like glimpses of his truest self,” they said. “Only glimpses, only little moments. I did see it, though. He does hesitate to connect, I won’t deny that, but it’s there.”

“You say that,” Flowey said, moving on to another song again, a lively jazz number. “But how can you know for sure? What do you even know about him?”

Frisk hummed for a moment.

“Did you ever find out where they came from?” Frisk asked.

“I tried,” Flowey said. “Papyrus knows so little… shockingly little. It’s downright insulting how little Sans has told him. He has an annoying amount of faith in Sans, and just accepted everything. All he knew was that they came from ‘somewhere else’ and that Sans had been trying to get them ‘back home.’ But then that the underground, that Snowdin, became their home. A lot of the stuff I managed to get out of Papyrus made absolutely no sense - all I could figure was that they came from somewhere far away. The surface, somewhere else, I don’t know. It didn’t make sense.”

Frisk nodded thoughtfully.

“I know a few things,” Frisk said. “Sans has told me a few secrets.”

“Oh?” Flowey asked, a bright look on his face.

“They’re secret,” Frisk said. “You won’t wheedle them out of me, and I’d legitimately get annoyed at you for trying. The thing is, he has told me stuff. He doesn’t hide as much from me.”

Flowey shrugged.

“Even so,” Flowey said. “I stand by my point. I don’t think dropping a few tidbits in your lap counts as actually being real with you. Actually being your friend.”

Frisk was silent for a moment.

“Does it bother you, how I feel towards Sans?” they asked.

The music shifted again, becoming more melancholic. It was still beautiful, masterful, and wonderful to hear.

“It does,” Flowey admitted after a few measures of the song played. “But… well, if you were going to do this, to feel like this towards someone, I’m glad it’s not me, at least. It would be wrong to Chara’s memory. To the kind of friendship we’d shared. And it’d be wrong for how I care about you, if it were something like that. I’m glad you can be real with me, that it’s equal between us. Other than the reset power thing.”

He sighed wistfully at that.

“The devotion thing is completely idiotic,” Flowey said. “I wish you weren’t like that. But I do get it. It gives you a feeling of purpose, a reason to exist, something to drive towards. I wish I had some of that myself, though I’m really glad I’m not slavishly devoted to a smiley trashbag.”

Frisk chuckled at that and he smiled at them.

“And another thing,” he said. “It bugs me. You deserve better than being that asshole’s possession.”

They were amused, and kinda touched, by the sentiment. He seemed legitimately annoyed on their behalf.

“It’s a good way to be,” they murmured quietly and he huffed.

Neither of them spoke for a time, listening to and playing another beautiful song. Once it ended, he switched to a peppier song.

“Can you still hear Chara?” Flowey asked out of the blue.

He asked this question every now and again. Most of the time, it was faint. But…

“I do,” they said. “Chara grew louder, clearer, when I killed Sans.”

“They always did have good taste,” Flowey said with exaggerated pride and Frisk shoved him over.

He flowed with the movement, laughing, and managed to not mess up his song.

There was another moment of silence, barring the music.

“Flowey?” Frisk asked.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I just… you do know how much you mean to me, don’t you?” they said softly.

He nodded.

“I’m glad you know,” they said.

“That’s kind of stupid,” Flowey said. “There was no possible way I wouldn’t know that, wouldn’t get that.”

They smiled.

“I’m a little worried about this conversation, too,” they said. “We normally just… you know. Memories, random stuff you’ve been up to, whatever. I’m worried this is bad, that I’m being selfish, because of the whole thing about reminding you of… things.”

Of the fact that he couldn’t feel right, of what he’d lost.

“It does suck,” he said. “All of it. The situation, the reminder. It also sucks being reminded that my best friend is fanatically devoted to the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, and I’m including myself here.”

They couldn’t help but snort at that.

“I really wish you could get over that and just have fun with me,” Flowey said. “There’s all sorts of things to try. The surface is so full of options. Or maybe to focus on the soul thing, so I can feel again. I don’t know if it’d work, but it’d be nice, even to try.”

He sighed.

“I wouldn’t want a conversation like this all the time,” he said. “It’s annoying. But I’m not blind. I could tell you were struggling.”

He smiled a little slyly.

“I am also completely aware that you evaded my questions about what you were afraid of and why you feel lost,” he said. “You could make up for the bothersome parts by telling me those things.”

They shoved him again and he laughed, moving on to a more upbeat song.

“I guess the problem is that in some ways I’m stable, and in some ways I’m pretty fragile,” they said. “I’ve hinged my entire existence, my entire self upon Sans-”

“Which was an incredibly stupid idea,” Flowey interjected.

Frisk shrugged.

“In any case, it means Sans can destroy me, hurt me, in ways and to degrees even I’m afraid of,” Frisk said. “I mean, stuff like killing me or physical pain, that’s nothing, but…”

They sighed and Flowey nodded in agreement.

“But if he rejects me completely… if he pushes me the wrong way, I… I don’t know what would happen to me,” they admitted softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Flowey said, continuing to play a chipper tune. “No matter what happens with Sans, I’ll still be around. And even if you completely break down again, you’ve already shown that you can get up and become something new. I wouldn’t leave you hanging, leave you wondering, insecure, afraid, and lonely. Not like he does.”

He smiled.

“I find it funny that I’m a soulless flower who can’t feel love, who can’t feel most things, and yet I know how to be a friend better than Sans does,” he said.

Frisk looked down.

“He’s… not exactly trying to be my friend,” they said, and Flowey gave them a curious look. “I mean, he is, but that’s not his focus. He’s trying to do what he thinks is right.”

“He really sucks at that, too,” Flowey said.

Frisk laughed a little at that.

“Maybe,” they allowed. “But he tries. I respect that, you know? It’s something I really respect about you, too - even with all the reason to be the worst sort of monster, you spent the majority of your life trying hard to do right. To be everyone’s friend.”

The music slowed, shifting into a softer sound.

“And, the fact is, he does care about me,” Frisk said.

Flowey scoffed at that.

“Really, Flowey, you have no ground to stand on here,” Frisk said. “Your care for me is also messed up. Trying to get me to kill Sans like that was an asshole move.”

“That wasn’t actually what I was aiming for,” Flowey said. “What I wanted was one of a few outcomes. One - I wanted Sans to own up to his hypocrisy, or at least for you to see it. Two, I wanted to finally kill him in a satisfying way. So it kind of failed, but as failures go, it was entertaining. A shame I couldn’t be there to see it all myself.

“Also, you brought this topic up, so it doesn’t count as me harassing you, and anyway, I’m just confirming a guess. Did he make you do it?”

Frisk hesitated.

“Sort of,” they said. “He was trying to get my opinion on things, he was respectful about it…”

“Did he make you kill him?” Flowey pressed.

Frisk. I’m calling it in. The debt you owe me. I am giving you an order and I expect you to obey. Do it.

“It was the only way,” Frisk said quietly.

“That’s a lie,” Flowey said, shaking his head. “Don’t you get it, Frisk? If I killed him, that would be uncomfortable for him, and no one else would have suffered at all. I’d have accepted all sorts of limits, like on how much I could hurt him before he died.”

Frisk gave him a dark look.

“I’m saying that I wouldn’t have hurt him before he died, you don’t need to get upset about that,” Flowey said with a huff. “I know he wouldn’t have accepted any interesting options.”

“Flowey…” Frisk said.

“Anyway,” Flowey said. “The point is, I could have killed him just as painlessly as you, without making you suffer, and it would have been nothing more than, what, discomfort? Maybe a blow to his pride? You matter less to him than that, Frisk.”

Frisk’s jaw clenched.

“Or he could have killed himself,” Flowey said. “That’s how I did it, and I know you could do it, too. How hard would it really be to aim one of those blasters at himself? Did it even occur to him?”

Frisk was quiet.

“But no, he made you do it,” he said. “Because you matter less to him than his pride, than his comfort, than his fear. Or whatever reason that would keep him from killing himself. Knowing how much you care about him, knowing how much it would hurt you - did he even offer an alternative?”

Frisk stayed quiet.

“Did he give you any choices at all?” Flowey asked. “This part, I’m less sure of my guess, but my guess is still that he didn’t. He just decided when and how it would happen, said a few things to make you not blame him for it, and then made you do it.”

“I don’t know how it say it right, but it didn’t feel like that,” Frisk said.

“It didn’t feel like that,” Flowey repeated skeptically.

“I’m not going to pretend he’s this amazing friend of perfect virtue who always does things in the best way,” Frisk said. “I know he’s got flaws, but…”

“He doesn’t really care about you, Frisk,” Flowey said. “He just cares about himself.”

“Come on, Flowey,” Frisk said. “When you held everyone’s souls, you told me outright how much they cared about me.”

Flowey frowned.

“Okay, he cares a little,” he muttered.

Frisk raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I don’t remember each individual monster’s feelings all that well,” Flowey said. “There were lots of them. And how he felt in that moment doesn’t matter compared to how he treats you, how he treats everyone.”

“I don’t know how much I agree with that,” Frisk said. “And you can’t think he doesn’t care about Papyrus, do you?”

“Do you have any idea how many lies he’s told Papyrus?” Flowey asked.

“I’m sure he has reasons,” Frisk said.

“Now you’re just making excuses for him,” Flowey said. “He’s a piece of garbage, Frisk. Smiley trashbag. The name fits.”

Frisk chuckled a little.

“Look, Flowey,” Frisk said. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the same things you have - maybe not all the same things, but the main points, anyway. I know there’s darkness in him, I know he’s got problems with connecting to people. But I think you’re biased, too. I really do think he cares about me, and I think I’ve seen enough to believe it.”

Flowey shook his head.

“And honestly, the fact is, both of the most important people in my life, both of the people I have the deepest connection to,” Frisk said with a rough smile. “They’re both kinda fucked up in the head and don’t do caring friendship right.”

“That is a reasonable point,” Flowey admitted with a little laugh. “Have you tried hanging out with Papyrus, though? He’s great at that.”

“Yeah he is,” Frisk said with a bemused smile. “But, uh, he can be a little much sometimes.”

Flowey just laughed at that.

“I don’t want you to feel like I was unfair,” they said. “Did I address your curiosity enough?”

“Partially,” Flowey said. “I get the fear, but not the feeling of being lost.”

“If my purpose is to serve Sans,” they said, and he scowled again. “And my idea makes him push me all the way away, then I have no purpose.”

“That’s what happens when you decide you’d rather be a tool than a person,” Flowey said bitingly. “If you can’t handle that risk, then maybe you should try not being a tool.”

They blinked at that. Flowey was right. It was part of a tool’s purpose to be set aside, wasn’t it? Weirdly, that made them feel better. A tool, once set aside, could always be picked up again later. They could just… stay Sans’ tool, even if he set them aside, and make sure he knew they were always available to use again in the future. It wasn’t as good as being actively used, but they could be left on the metaphorical shelf. As pragmatic as he was, there was no way he wouldn’t use them at least a little, eventually.

They smiled. Talking with Flowey had really helped.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Flowey said. “One last thing. You need to tell me what your idea is.”

They awkwardly looked away.

“Er, it’s kinda what you were talking about,” they said. “About how he doesn’t really connect to people. I wanted to try to connect more, um, deeply.”

Flowey burst out laughing at that.

“I really want to know how that goes,” he said.

“I’ll let you know,” Frisk said.

The broad outcome, anyway. They sure as hell weren’t going to give him specifics.

“In the meantime, though, maybe you were right,” they said, and he gave them a curious look. “We should go do something fun together. This has been nice, listening to your music like this. It’s been… amazing, actually. You are amazing, Flowey.”

He laughed and thanked them again, moving on to a silly, victorious tune. They made a plan to go watch a new theater production the next week, and Frisk went on their way.

It had been good, talking to Flowey. It didn’t often make them feel better, but in a strange way, this conversation really had. One way or another, they would make their idea available to Sans, and they would lay everything at his feet, in trust that they had seen him. That they were right about him.

And one way or another, no matter how it turned out, they would find themself on their feet.

After all - they never gave up.