A Purpose in Bloom { Flowey x Reader }

Chapter 4

Y/N POV

What is this feeling? My head. . . it feels fuzzy. What am I doing? Where am I? Why is everything so dark?

You flutter your eyes open, shocked by what you see in front of you. A tiny, golden flower is sprouted in front of your nose. What was odd about it was the fact that it had a face.

"Oh good, you're finally awake," it spoke. It spoke? Isn't that just a little flower? What a weird dream I'm having. . .

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!" it greeted, cocking its head a bit to the side and smiling. "You must be new to the Underground, aren'tcha? Golly, you much be so confused."

The Underground? Finally, it hit you. You remembered everything. You pushed yourself off the ground, wearily attempting to stand. You immediately feel a rush of dizziness, and a sheet of black covers your eyes. You feel yourself falling backwards. Suddenly, before you hit the ground, you felt something wrap around your torso, preventing you from hitting the ground. Looking down, you make out a series of green vines twisting around your abdomen. Ever-so-gently, the vines prop you into a standing position, and then release you from their grasp. Looking back down at the flower, you notice the vines retreating into the ground near it. So, those vines belong to that flower- er- Flowey?

"Th-thanks for saving me. . ." you mumble, still light-headed and tired from both the wound on your head and the long journey from your home to Mt. Ebbot.

"No problem!" Flowey replied, winking. "I would teach you about how things work around here, but it's no use. It's not like you'll be sticking around for long," he said, his expression shifting from playful to solemn.

You look at the creature, puzzled. "Why would you assume that?"

Flowey looks slightly taken-aback by your reply. "Why, I guess it's because no human has come here for, I'm not sure, three years now? There's nothing here to entertain you except little old me. You should just turn around and head back to wherever you came from now."
"No!" you yelped, slightly louder than intended. "I mean, no, I don't want to. I'm here for a reason."

"And what might that reason be?" Flowey asked, a curious glint in his eyes.

You hesitate, not sure if you felt comfortable telling this creature about your home life. You'd kept all that information to yourself for as long as you could remember; the thought of telling anyone else filled your body with fear. If Mom finds out I told anyone about it, she would kill me on the spot. . .

No. It's time for me to let go of all that. This is my new life. I don't have to think about her anymore.

"I came here as an escape from the surface," you admitted. "To be completely honest, I planned on staying here."

"St-staying?" Flowey inquires, obviously surprised by your assertion.

"Yeah," you say, glancing down to the left, suddenly not wanting to make eye contact. "Things, uh, haven't been going all that well for me, and I needed to get away from some not-so-great people."

"I see," Flowey mumbled thoughtfully. "Well, I understand you could use some time to yourself," he said, forming a sort of half-grin. "See you around," he says, turning his back to you, throwing his head back as if he were preparing to dive into the earth.

"Wait, don't go!" you call, surprising both yourself and Flowey. What am I doing? I need to go find a place to live. I don't need to waste time talking to this thing. Something about Flowey drew you in, however, and you couldn't help but want to learn more about him.

"I'd, uh, l-like to get to know you a little better," you stammered, suddenly lacking confidence. "I mean, it's not everyday you meet a talking flower," you said, letting out a small chuckle."

Flowey looked up at you, a sad, forlorn look in his gaze. "I think it would be better for the both of us if you stayed far away from me."

"And why's that?" you asked, your heart starting to beat a bit faster.

"I- well- you just should," he stuttered, avoiding eye contact. "I don't have the greatest track record."

"Well, neither do I," you say, crouching down to get more on Flowey's level. "Who does? Everybody makes mistakes. That doesn't make you a bad person," you assure him.

"I have a few more skeletons in my closet than I'd like to admit," he tells you, his voice laced with a warning.

"Well then, I guess we already have something in common."