Flowey remembered trying so hard not to cry.

He could remember days in this very garden, rubbing his eyes and gritting his teeth together as though the whole world would come crashing down if he were caught sobbing like a big baby. Realistically even the dumb little kid he'd once been had known no harm would come of it. He'd be wrapped up in loving arms and cradled like a newborn if he ever really cracked. Mom, tender but firm, with Dad looking like he might start crying himself.

But Chara...

Oh, sweet Chara.

Those eyes spoke volumes even to a dumb kid. Chara thought less of him for every tear shed. They'd tell him "Big kids don't cry" as though it were so obvious he should never have had to hear it.

He remembered one evening spent sniffling out here in the garden. He couldn't clearly remember what had upset him so much—he'd been so sensitive some days that a dead bug could nearly send him to hysterics. To the best of his recollection he'd been gently corrected about a point of etiquette during his training as prince, and had only managed to keep a straight face up until he'd reached the garden.

The garden was a sacred place; sacred enough for him to crack but not enough to break. He'd sat here among the golden flowers with his eyes clenched shut, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Such a baby, who couldn't do anything right and cried his eyes out because of it. How worthless. How could he call himself a prince?

That night had been different than many, though. A thin, lanky shadow covered him while crying. He looked up, hastily wiping tears away, to see Chara staring down at him.

"I-I wasn't crying!" he'd blurted, his voice cracking disgustingly. The tear streaks on his white fur wouldn't have fooled even a blind monster.

Chara had simply stared. Then, they sat down next to him.

They sat together often out here, with only the cavern ceiling and the golden flowers to keep them company. This had been one of the few times Asriel had really paid attention to the human's face. They were smiling, as they often did, but it was unclear what they thought was so funny. They seldom mocked him directly, and never when he was really upset. And the smile wasn't really cruel like he'd seen on the bullies who picked on children with less frightening Moms.

It was just... there. Usually to be found on Chara's face, like their laughter when things went wrong. It was a smile that never touched the rest of their face.

"I wish I could cry," Chara said finally.

Asriel nearly jumped in fright. Their quiet voice had broken the silence of the garden like an explosion.

"Wh-what?"

Chara's smile, in a rare turn, actually seemed to grow wider. They didn't meet his eyes. They actually looked pointedly in the opposite direction, as though looking at him straight was the very last thing they wanted to do.

"You heard me. I said... I wish I could cry."

Asriel sniffed loudly, but managed to keep his voice steady this time. "I mean... why? You said big kids don't cry."

"I did," they replied, their voice as stiff as usual.

"And you said only babies cry."

"That's the same thing."

"Y-You said I was a crybaby."

"You are a crybaby."

Asriel pouted at that, having to swallow hard to avoid an actual onslaught of tears. Chara didn't respond. It hadn't been a taunt, though Chara was no stranger to them. It was more of a statement of fact. Somehow that made it worse.

"But... it would be nice to be a crybaby."

Chara's voice had now dipped so low it could almost be drowned out by a passing moth. Asriel frowned for very different reasons now, uncertain what to make of the remark. Finally he forced himself to speak without stammering or managing to cry through the cracks in his voice.

"...then... why can't we?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer!"

"Because... the prince of the monsters doesn't cry," they said, sounding more forceful than before. Asriel started, then bit his tongue. It was a reminder of just how far he was from being the prince he was supposed to be. The very reason he was out here trying not to cry in the first place.

After a still moment, Chara continued in a much softer tone. "And... neither does the future of humans and monsters. Whatever that means. Whatever they have to do... they don't cry."

Their smile seemed pained by this point. The human could be so hard to read most of the time, but Asriel understood that much. His own tears and upset ceased to matter. He leaned into his sibling, putting an arm around them in a deep hug. Chara would stiffen when anyone else touched them, even Mom and Dad—but never once had they shied away from Asriel.

They sat there for some time, human and monster in a quiet embrace. One smiling, one sniffling, but it meant the same thing. It was a moment that stuck in Asriel's memory for the rest of his life.

And a f t e r w a r d s .

Flowey sighed loudly as the garden burned all around him, the acrid fumes of golden flowers choking the air. The King and Queen struggled in his vines, mouths gagged and magic spent, powerless to break free of the monster that had slaughtered everyone else in the kingdom.

"You know, Chara," Flowey said to the burning grave in front of him, "Not a single reset goes by that I don't wonder what you'd have to say about me now."

The rage and terror in the King and Queen's eyes mixed with confusion. They couldn't possibly know why the mutant buttercup who had kidnapped them knew that name. Or why he would speak to their grave with such casual familiarity.

"On the one hand—or, vine—I don't cry. You could say I'm a big kid now. On the other... I want to."

Flowey paused, not out of hesitation but more from not knowing what to say. "Yeah... I said it. I wish I could cry. I've wished I could for, oh, a hundred years, two hundred... it was hard to keep track for a while, so I stopped. But I just can't cry."

He shook his head, staring at the blazing bonfire in front of him with the same smile he always wore. "Somehow I don't think we smile for the same reasons. Or maybe it's the exact same reason. Either way, I wish you were here, or in my head again. There'd be so much for us to talk about."

His vines suddenly caught fire. He'd be surprised, but this had happened a hundred times before.

The Queen had had a sudden burst of rage, burning through the vines covering her mouth and screaming in righteous fury.

"How dare you?" she demanded, flames in her tone. "After all you've done—to deface my child's grave? I swear by the Delta Rune and all things holy, you will face consequences!"

Flowey smiled throughout her tirade, even mouthing along with it from memory. "Golly. This sure does work you up. If you had half the determination that you have temper, we wouldn't be in this mess."

He laughed airily, and without further ado, constricted his vines and crushed her into dust. Her body broke so easily in his grasp, crushing as easily as cardboard, but he was still no closer to shedding tears.

The King, however, was roaring in muffled rage and shedding quite a few of his own. They smoldered with the heat of his magic, boiling tears striking the scorched earth underneath him. Flowey constricted him as well, deflecting firebolts with impeccably precise bullets of his own.

"And you always do take it hard, don't you? Even though you haven't seen her in... I don't even know how long. If it's any consolation, as much as she acted like she hated you, she starts weeping every time I kill you in front of her."

His smile stretched across the whole of his flowery face, jagged and malicious.

"Why don't you go enjoy some precious time with her before I reset again?"

A light tightening of his vines, and the King was dust. Dust spreading on the dead air, mixing with the dust of the Queen, of the royal guard, of the skeletons with no past, of the scientist who'd resurrected him, of every last screaming, sobbing monster of the Underground.

Flowey sighed, still smiling, never turning his gaze from the burning grave.

"If nothing else, Chara, I've proven you wrong. Big kids and grown ups do cry... if you give them something to cry about. What does that make me, I wonder?"

The flames were dying down, leaving nothing but parched earth over the discolored grave.

"...and what did that make you?"