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Asriel takes you down to Waterfall. He said the destination was a surprise; you think he’s just lost. He avoids both your questions and your not-really-annoyed snarks, insisting he does know the path, you bully, it’s just been a while, and he will not be getting you chocolate even though you promise it’ll buy your silence since this “must be so embarrassing for him”. Eventually he pulls you over to a trash can full of umbrellas and invites you to pick a color.
You point out it isn’t raining. Asriel opens a green one and waves the comment away, as if to say “trust me”. And, well. You don’t have much else to do today.
You grab gold. He nods approvingly.
Then he holds back on to the sleeve of your sweater to pull you some more, and you wonder what exactly it means, that he’s doing that. Asriel is a touchy sort of kid but he never touches you unless you instigate. Instead he pulls you by the sweater that was his just six weeks ago. It makes you feel warm. It makes you feel defensive.
And just when you’re about to say out loud that, wait a minute, it doesn’t rain underground-!, he leads you down a rocky hallway sort of place, and then you see…
Crystals. Gems. Bright, colorful, and glowing, lining the walls of the cave in clusters that pulse with light.
Asriel nudges you, and you snap yourself out of your trance to look at him. Your mouth is open. You should shut it. He puts his umbrella over his head and twirls it to set an example, giving you the push to open your own, and as you both step further down the path you can hear drops of water thud against the material.
“I told you it would rain!” He boasts, excited instead of mean. You roll your eyes and stare back towards the lights. In the distance, you see the castle. Its glory is lost against all this.
He tells you, though you hadn’t asked, that they are stars. And it takes you a moment to process that, but when you do you guess it makes sense. They look star-adjacent; it isn’t a huge leap from what real stars look like. You doubt most of the monsters down here have even seen one from the surface. When you look through the barrier all you see are shades of gray. Something about that weighs down your soul.
“Are you disappointed?”
You blink. He must have taken your silence the wrong way.
“No, I’m fine,” You deflect. “The stars on the surface just look different, is all.”
Asriel’s mouth opens in an understanding ‘o’. Then he, too, turns to the crystals. Neither of you say anything for a while.
“I forgot they aren’t real,” He admits. It’s an embarrassed confession, like he cares less about the facts and more about being wrong. You are reminded for not the first time of his almost desperate need to impress you, and there’s something vulnerable in that that makes you uncomfortable.
You try and push forward. “These are better than the real ones anyway,” You tell him. “Those are boring, and they’re only one color. Super far away too- not nearly as bright.”
Asriel perks up at that- the pride returns, thankfully, and relief makes you relax.
Moments pass. This is… nice. “Rain” pats against your umbrella and puddles at your shoes. You ask Asriel, after you both take a few silly moments of jumping in the water, if he knows what a constellation is.
And that is how you spend the rest of the day making pictures out of rock.
You learn that, in The Underground, rain doesn’t come from clouds but instead drips down from the cracks in ceiling walls. You learn the only way for the weather to change is for you to walk from area to area. You are introduced to the idea of pies being made out of snails. You get very good at pushing around your food and making it look like you’ve eaten more than you have.
You have your own seat at the dinner table and you have your own side of what was once Asriel’s bedroom, and even if sitting down with everyone at the same time makes you feel sort of awkward and falling asleep has to wait until he’s asleep and you know the door is locked there’s something comfortable seeping in. A normality, almost. You don’t really belong here but you don’t not.
Asgore asks if you’d like to go shopping for your own clothing.
You tell him the hand-me-downs are just fine.
“Tell me about the surface,” Asriel asks, handing you half of a bicicle. It’s less of a request and more of a statement, but it’s gentle too, giving you wiggle-room if you decide you’d rather talk about something else. Asriel is a puzzle you’re still working on solving.
Snowdin is, predictably, filled with snow, and while you don’t have any qualms with the cold you’ve never really experienced something like this. It’s freezing all the time. And Asriel doesn’t really care too much since he has fur, but you can’t hide the way your teeth clack when you’re exposed to the area for more than five seconds.
There are no hand-me-downs to give. So Toriel knits you clothes. A hat, a scarf, mittens; she’s made the whole set in less than a week, and convinces you to let her buy you a coat since she doesn’t think she could make that. It’s the most expensive item you’ve ever owned. She could have done this for everything if you’d let her.
Cold emits from the unicycle and makes you shiver. The snow crunches beneath your feet; Asriel said there’s a road in Snowdin here, but you can’t see it because of the white.
You take a bite. It turns your tongue blue.
“It’s warmer there,” You say. And Asriel stops munching, suddenly much more attentive.
Warmth, you tell him, is different on the surface. It’s less… harsh. Down here the only place that’s naturally hot is Hotland, and over there the heat is almost sharp. Intense. Everything else is artificial and it’s almost the same but not. You try to explain that. You can’t.
The sun- no, not son, Asriel, sun, s-u-n- makes everything softer. Even on the hottest of days it still seeps instead of coating. It’s gentle, you try to explain. The sun makes everything pleasantly warm. You used to play in flower fields and it always felt to you like a hug.
“Does that make sense?”
Asriel thinks your question over for a moment. You both have reached the end of the bridge into Snowdin Forest, closer to your destination of the flag game. He wants to know how you got the purple one. You’re all too amused to deny him.
“Do you miss the sun?” He asks, fishing out a cinabunny and handing it over once you finish the unicicle. “It sounds nice.”
Crumbs get stuck in your mittens; you shiver again, this time from the unexpected heat, this time comfortably.
And the truth is you do sort of miss it. The sun was a haven you didn’t want to have to give up. But you don’t know- you don’t know if you can afford to feel that way, when everything else you left behind makes you start to feel dangerous. You wish you had the sun but the truth is if you try to find good in what you escaped you don’t know what else you’ll find that might tip the scale.
It’s been 17 weeks since you’ve seen the surface. You’re okay with that. You don’t want to think about the things you’re less than okay with losing.
So you shrug. The flag game is on the horizon; you point this out, and Asriel becomes determined to win a game before you get there so he runs ahead while you promise not to cheat by hurrying after.
An almost-natural warmth has gotten through your mittens and started to relax your still-cold fingers. You bite into the cinabunny. Spice explodes on your taste buds.
Feeling just a bit lighter, you slow down more than necessary to give Asriel a chance to score.
You learn Asgore has a garden. You learn that once a week he heads to the place where the barrier is exposed- where you fell down- to look around for any seeds that may have fell through. Asgore has started to ask for your assistance in both this process and the garden itself. He says you have a knack for it.
You think it’s interesting that while this happens he always tries to make conversation. Neither of you are saying anything that really matters and you don’t think it’s because he’s weary but instead because he prefers it that way. There’s something safe in that. He tells you Vegetoids are good for soil.
You learn that your question about how they survive without sunlight is a fair one; you learn Asgore has something done to them, magically, to supplement that. You learn the names of flowers you had once taken for granted and you memorize the amount and frequency they need to be watered. There is nothing fancy in his garden, but it’s a garden nonetheless, and when you enter the smell of flowers fill you with a serene sort of calm.
The small clustered blues are forget-me-nots. Daises come in more colors than you realized. You track how long it takes for clovers to turn pink, and you keep an eye out for the tell-tale yellow-gold you used to play in but nothing comes close. Buttercups are similar, but not really. You’re grasping for something familiar and finding substitutes. This should not bother you as much as it does.
You learn Asgore makes a killer tea. It’s nothing like the tea made from your flowers, sure, but you can appreciate this too. You learn gardening is a lot more work than you’d thought. You learn you like putting in the effort.
“He asked for no pickles,” You inform the cat monster at the register. Usually, Azzy wouldn’t have a real problem asking for these sorts of things, chalking it up to an honest mistake. But you can tell this guy makes him feel more and more pity the longer you’re in his presence, and, well, Asriel doesn’t want to make his life any harder.
The cat looks up at you, unimpressed. When it was Asriel taking the lead you could see the worker’s mood flash and change every five seconds. With you it stays in the same fake-smoothness. Annoyance flares.
“No refunds, lil’ buddy,” He says.
You’ve been told you’re too blunt for your own good. Usually you disagree. But right now you’re almost grateful for that reputation, because it means you can get away with acting out more on your irritation without getting caught.
‘Lil’ buddy’. God do you hate this guy.
“Not asking for a refund.” Azzy is standing further away from you than he usually does, very obviously embarrassed. There is something exhilarating in what you feel is a deserved attitude. “Just remake the burger.”
He takes a drag of what is, probably, a cigarette, and blows smoke out to buy time. The stand-off continues as he thinks of what to say. You glare at him casually. Finally, he smiles.
“Half off the original price and I’ll remake it.”
And before you can finished your “Are you challenging me Burger Boy?” Azzy is cutting you off by rushing forward and slamming the gold required on the counter. You decide, because of the awkwardness radiating off of him, that you’ll let this one go, even as the cashier grins slyly and takes way too long. When he’s done you smile sweetly and drop a single cent into the tip jar. Then you and Azzy leave and you don’t look back.
Later, Azzy begrudgingly thanks you. You try not to let your newfound energy from the confrontation show and instead attempt to seem humble(it doesn’t work).
Toriel and Asgore gave you both permission to stay at Mettaton’s resort for the night, with your own hotel room and everything. They said it would be a fun little trip for you two; they made sure it was safe enough for two children to be alone. The independence fills you with adrenaline- it’s been a while since you’ve had alone time.
(and yeah, Azzy’s there, but he doesn’t count. He doesn’t drain you like others do.)
Asriel is excited to be independent too- but he’s also obviously nervous, so you turn up your confidence and take charge for a bit. He seems to appreciate it so you continue on. You both jump on the frankly huge bed and you sit under the blanket and tell ghost stories and you make stupid wishes in the water fountain before taking the coins out and tossing them back in again(it’s double the wishes! Azzy disagrees.). This is fun, and it’s new, and, and-
Asriel asks if you were alone like this a lot on the surface. You tell him, yeah, and you learned to enjoy it. He asks you why. You think about your answer for longer than necessary.
And you tell Azzy, well. Sometimes being alone was a comfort. Sometimes it was the only ensured safety you had. You tell him about the way you would sneak out the window. How dew-sprinkled grass felt between your toes. You start speaking softer, and you tell him about cricket songs and firefly lights. You explain the way a tree feels nestled against your back; the weight, the solidness, the rough-yet-comfortable bark. You tell Asriel about sunrise.
You tell Azzy details from your good times that you’re painfully aware paint a vague picture of the bad.
He’s quiet, for a while. The hotel occasionally plays something close to elevator music but is otherwise silent. You feel… surprisingly neutral. Calm. This bed is warm and you have found a new safe spot.
“The surface at night,” Azzy says. You are both lying like starfish on the stupidly large mattress. He reaches out a paw, holds your hand, and you hold on back. There is a weight to this. There is a realness. You don’t know when you became okay with him touching you.
“It sounds nice,” He finishes.
The back of your throat suddenly feels thick. You swallow it all down. It’s been five months. You are learning to move on.
“Yeah,” You say back. “It was.”
And then you both go and get some more crappy burgers.
You are learning that knitting is just as hard as it looks. You are learning even purl stitches make you want to pull out your hair. You are learning there is no greater gratification than finishing a project and then showing it off and getting praised, even if everyone involved is aware you are still pretty bad at this. They still treat you like a prodigy.
There are two armchairs by the fireplace; one for Toriel, and one for Asgore, with a plush rug between them for you and Azzy to lay. You enjoy your time on the floor, but whenever you knit Toriel insists you take Asgore’s chair and he never comments on that, just lets you both spend some quiet time together filled only with the clicking of needles. Sometimes he sits at the table and watches for a while. Then he finishes his tea, comes to ruffle your hair, and leaves you to it.
You are learning Toriel and you time is almost always the relaxing quiet type. You are learning Asgore and Azzy are talkative, and she appreciates your focused quiet. You are learning she knows way too much about snails. You are learning you don’t mind her facts filling the silence.
You knit Asgore a sweater that says “Mr. Dad Guy” and you knit Toriel her own that says “#1 Goat Mom”. You are learning- these titles now have meaning to you. Toriel cries. Asgore cries harder. Your ribs may or may not be deformed from all the hugs.
You’re learning to be more direct. You’re learning snail pie is… okay, it’s still bad, but it’s better than it was before.
You’re learning to knit.
You’re also learning that even when combined, you and Asriel are still horrible chefs.
Or maybe it’s just that nothing compares to Toriel’s pie. She does leave some big shoes to fill, after all. However after seeing Asriel break his fifth egg by all but shattering shell into the bowl with the yolk- and after your second close call with the stove and a washcloth- you’re leaning more towards you both being bad at this. Maybe you should have gone an easier route for presents.
But Asgore’s birthday is tomorrow, and Azzy and you are determined to make him some butterscotch pie that’ll knock him off his feet. Even if it takes… a lot longer than necessary, to be honest.
It’s been seven months and you’re still struggling to navigate the kitchen, which has two stools that are constantly being moved around since it was built for someone much taller than the both of you. In the lulls of conversation Azzy asks about the surface.
You tell him dogs are covered in eyes and their slobber is made of poison. He looks at you, horrified, before his face melts into something annoyed and relieved when you can’t keep your grin from showing.
“You’re lying!”
“How can you be sure?”
He has no answer to that.
It becomes a game, and you are an unreliable host. You tell him humans are filled with acid. He guesses correctly but only because he remembered how sore your throat was that one time after you vomited from a food-poisoned glamburger. You tell him pigs can fly. He says they do, even when you tell him he’s wrong, and he makes you think that The Underground has some flying pigs lying around for a good minute before he starts laughing and gets flour thrown at his face.
You tell him adult humans have eyes sticking out the back of their head, covered in hair. And you keep that one a mystery.
You help him crack eggs. He shows you how to use the stove. You spray him with water when the tips of his fur catch on fire. He cries until you get him a band-aid, only to discover it didn’t even burn him, you big baby, now get back to the whisk(but you do check and make sure you’re right a good five times).
“What’s the next ingredient?” You ask. Azzy goes quiet a moment to read.
“Buttercups.”
You check the fridge and frown. There’s nothing in the cabinets either.
“We’ll have to grab them from Dad’s garden,” You say, because you know plants better than Azzy does and he’ll follow you blindly. You check the clock and you grimace and you take off your gloves. “We need to hurry. They’ll be home soon.”
On your way to the garden, you tell Azzy humans live to be a thousand years old. It’s meant to be a part of the game- but he gets excited, saying he didn’t know that and starting to ramble about how you guys will really be best friends forever now.
You don’t have the heart to break it to him.
you wake up. it’s the middle of the night. toriel is shaking you, gently but urgently, setting off a wave of panic before you realize it’s her. you wonder how she got through the door. you push that aside and ask what time it is.
“my child,” she says, “i’m sorry to have to wake you, but- could you and asriel take care of yourselves for a bit? i did not want to leave without giving a warning.”
“asgore is sick.” are you still dreaming? it’s all going over your head, sort of. “i need to take him to a more experienced healer.” and you- you don’t get it. it’s the middle of the night. toriel is asking you and azzy to hold down the fort. you think about how the flu has been going around and that brings you some clarity, so you snort, rubbing your eyes.
“what?” you ask. voice scratchy. trying to be funny. “big guy can’t handle a cold?”
the tension shifts, suddenly, unexpectedly, and before you know it toriel is now kneeling next to your best and looking up at you seriously. she holds your hands in her paws firmly.
“chara,” she stresses. you blink again and you are wide awake. “i need to know you can handle yourselves for a few hours alone.”
and you say, weaker than intended, yeah. yeah, you can. toriel nods once and stands. she ruffles your hair and she leaves the door slightly cracked on her way out. there’s movement in the hall. something tells you to get up, so you do, and you open your door just in time to see your mother holding your father’s weight against her as he struggles to stay standing.
toriel must hear the door creek. she looks at you, but your gaze is pinned on him, saliva drooling out his mouth and puddling to wet his shirt. he looks- his eyes- everything is suddenly a lot more serious.
“i’ll be back soon,” toriel tells you. you nod dumbly.
then they’re gone, leaving you shaken. with uneasy steps you go back to your room. you leave the door unlocked, just in case she comes back and you don’t realize. you look over at azzy’s side of the room and watch the rise and fall of his dream-filled breaths.
best friends forever, he said. your hands are clammy. you could really use a friend right now.
you think- no, you shouldn’t. he’s peaceful now. why ruin it? but then you think- he deserves to know, right? and you deserve- don’t you?
“azzy,” you whisper, even though you don’t need to be quiet. you stand over him and you try to be gentle, but after a quick moment you start to get more desperate, shaking him rougher than intended. your voice is clogged with something dangerous. “azzy, you need to wake up.”
he sits up. he rubs his eyes. he asks you what’s wrong. there is a gentle pain in the back of your throat, and that is your only warning, one that you don’t fully realize until it’s too late.
“dad’s sick,” you say. and you start sobbing.
He turns out fine. Obviously.
It takes you a good twenty minutes to get out what’s going on through your snot-filled tears, and after that happens Asriel starts sobbing in a similar fashion, and it’s only then that you stop. You try to calm him. It doesn’t work. You make him coco. That does. You spot the pie with one slice taken on the kitchen counter and get a bad feeling.
Undyne comes over and says he’ll be okay, he just needs some time, and that Toriel said she’d be back by noon. She awkwardly offers to stay but you say you’ll both be fine. You look up to her too much to let her see you like this. So she leaves, and then it’s Azzy and you again, and you read to him and sit by the fire with blankets in weak attempts to help his breathing.
Toriel comes back. Obviously. You let Azzy get the first hug.
You learn buttercups are toxic. You learn cups of butter are what’s actually used in her pies. You learn it is very easy to kill a monster.
And you… laugh. You try to bring in the humor, try to lighten the mood. You say, gosh, you get why neither of you are allowed alone in the kitchen. You giggle and nudge Azzy in the side and you tell him his dreams of being a baker might need to be put aside for the good of the rest of the population. It makes him smile and wipe his face. Toriel is looking at you, worried, and you are brushing it off.
Because Asgore will be fine. Because it was a bad idea for you to wake up Asriel anyway- if Undyne stopped at the same time he woke up, he wouldn’t have worried for as long as he did. There is a biting guilt somewhere in your chest cavity and you’re fine. It’s okay. You don’t need to be upset- and you certainly didn’t need to cry.
You learn things are better if you are constantly careful; you were the one to suggest making pie. You learn Asriel finds dark-ish humor funny, or at least distracting. You learn Toriel assumes the best in you.
You learn to be okay. (obviously.)
Asgore teaches you which flowers in his garden are safe to eat.
Time passes. You aren’t sure how much. When did you stop keeping track?
It’s been at least two years. Probably. When the Dreemurrs discover you never used to celebrate your birthday Azzy declares your “new” birthday is the same as his, and you celebrate it together, a chocolate cake and a snail pie put side-by-side. When the adults have turned their backs Azzy convinces you to try a bite of his slice. You get through two before desperately stuffing chocolate down your throat to quell the urge to vomit.
You learn Azzy is terrified of spiders. You learn him crying over little things makes you laugh harder than it should. You learn time-outs are boring, but when you leave things are okay again, so you can go through ten minutes of staring at a wall if that’s what it takes for Azzy to calm down and internally admit you’re hilarious.
The lock stays on the door, but you don’t use it much anymore. You’ve gotten so comfortable at the dinner table you’re willing to trade seats every now and then.
You love your brother. You love your mom, and you love your dad.
And they love you back. They love you, they love you, they love you.
The Underground is home. You feel truly comfortable here.
But you know that’s only because of the monsters around you, and you know it isn’t enough.
It’s strange, because- on the surface, you could have been the last person alive, but as long as you were around nature and your flowers you would have felt like you belonged. Here it’s the opposite. When you walk alone you’re all-too aware that there is nothing left to explore, nowhere left to go. Claustrophobia makes your skin crawl. You stare at the barrier for longer than you should.
Everyone else seems to have given up on getting to the surface anytime soon. They still look at you with an almost excited curiosity.
Asgore and Toriel try to help monsters hold onto hope. Your heart beats for something different yet similar, frustration melding with a protective urge to fight for the ones you care about. You can’t describe it. Sometimes it burns.
And one day- when you have been here so long that you can solve every puzzle in The Ruins, and when you know every crook of The Underground- they sit you down at the table. Azzy went to bed early tonight. You are sitting at the head and they are at your sides.
Toriel offers you pie. You decline, still full from dinner. Asgore offers you tea. You decline that too. They both look at each other for a long moment before offering you some chocolate.
“What?” You ask, teasing. “Did someone die?”
The tension breaks. They are both quick to shut that down, and then they settle into their seats heavier than before. You all sit in a quiet for a moment. You shift in your seat.
Asgore clears his throat. He looks at Toriel with desperate eyes. “Would you…?”
She shakes her head. “I think it would be better if… Well?”
“Mom?”
At your voice Toriel very suddenly glances away. Anxiety settles in your stomach.
“Dad?”
No response. He just sighs, hands clasped together, eyes shut. Then, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, you ask- “Did I do something wrong?”, and the world starts spinning again.
“No,” Asgore assures you. He reaches out a large paw to take your hand, then sets his other over it. Toriel takes the other. “No, my child. We just have something to discuss.”
He wasn’t lying.
they tell you a lot that day.
they tell you they haven’t been totally truthful with you. the barrier can be broken, with one human soul and one boss monster’s. they say they didn’t tell you because they didn’t want you to feel unsafe. they say they didn’t tell you because fighting a human is risky for even boss monsters. they tell you- they are only two left. their hands are large over yours. your soul feels large within your chest.
toriel assures you they would never hurt you. asgore swears he loves you more than life. they are both saying, you deserve to know, because you deserve a chance to go back home if you want it. they are apologizing for keeping you down here without telling you there was another option for so long. they are apologizing for being selfish. they are saying they love you.
There is no question, for you, in whether you forgive them or not. In your eyes they have done no wrong. You love your family and you love monsters and you swear this is home, here, with your hands between their paws and listening to the sound of Azzy’s sleepy breathing. They are home.
You do not tell them, you know The Underground isn’t home for them, and the people are what make it such. You do not say that they were perfectly happy before you came around as well.
You learn monsters are soft-hearted. You know humans are not. You learn you might be able to help more than you thought you could.
Being in the garden is… strange.
There’s a sort of eeriness, something that unreasonably unsettles you when you enter alone. The buttercups seem to stare. So do the other more dangerous flowers, though none are as bright, and logically you know it’s nothing.
The genuine comfort you get here- or at least, that you got before- pushes through, however. It’s reminding you of the sun and nature and, and, and-
You tell Azzy, without him asking, about the golden flowers you used to lie in. Picking petals and stringing stems are fidgets you carry with you. You have become an expert at flower-crown making. It’s a skill you show off to him happily; something that makes your chest warm to see him light up about, much like you still sort-of do, and start his attempts to make his own.
Asriel asks you what the golden-flower tea tasted like. You say it’s honey with a pinch of caramel.
Fingers weaving green through leaves- melding together petals of different colors and shapes- you describe the feeling of the sun on your face while you would close your eyes and relax in one of the flower patches. They grow taller than most flowers, in that when you would lie straight-down on your back most of them would peak above you and soak up the rays. You tell Azzy about the chill that would coat you during the night when you did the same thing. You tell him you liked them both equally.
While you are both mostly-quiet and working on flower crowns, Azzy asks you something he has never asked you before. And he says it in a tone that makes you pause. It’s sad, almost, but not quite. When you started this questioning all that time ago he was more absent in his questions. Curious but not caring too much.
Now there is something desperate. Lost.
“Do you think we’ll ever see the surface?” He asks you. You pause. He trucks along. “That we’ll ever break the barrier?”
Yes, you want to say, because in your heart it feels like the truth. Logically you think they will, but at this point you know you are included in that, and that’s when things get tricky.
Because you are still uncertain. You don’t- you don’t know if you want to go through the barrier. Where would you go? With the Dreemurrs, of course, but what then? What happens when humanity acts cruel like it always does? Could you forgive yourself for the responsibility you’ve played in raising the hopes and dreams of all your family and friends? Could you deal with the possibility that it is just as bad as you remembered, even though you’ve tried to be objective and separate the situations from the sensations? Could you learn to love it like you do the underground? Do you believe in second chances?
And you know you do not trust humanity. You don’t know if you ever will. Yet you think- well. You think about jumping through golden flowers with your brother. You think about everyone going on a late-night picnic. You think of raining, warmth- you think of stars. You imagine Asriel there and it doesn’t feel as uncertain as it did before.
Maybe- well, if Azzy is there, if your family is, then maybe you could be okay with it. He makes you feel like a kid. You want to protect that and you want to protect him. You want to show Asriel warmth. He makes you feel warm.
So maybe it could feel like home.
You swallow. Finish tying off two stems.
“Yeah,” You say. He looks up at you for reassurance and watches as you smile. “Yeah, I think you will.”
Asriel brightens. He asks you, not for the first time, to tell him about the stars. You do. When you’re nearly done talking about the Hercules constellation he is setting a flower crown of yellow-green blossoms on your head and asking if it’s a good first try. You tell him he did amazing, obviously.
He hugs you. You look over his shoulder and see the rest of Asgore’s garden. You wonder if buttercups have the same affect on humans.
You hug him back tighter.