Flowey x Reader: Teach Me how to Feel

You Wanted to Say Something

-Author's Note-
I'm trying to pump out as many parts as I can so I can finish this story and write some other stories. But I wanna make this 30 to 40 chapters long so don't worry, this won't end soon ;w; Also... um, what are your opinions on me writing some lemon..? I won't make it important to the story because I don't want people to feel like they have to read it but someone asked me to and ye ;w;

-Your POV-
You stepped out of the tub and onto the rug on the floor, not wanting to slip on the tile. You drained the tub and dried yourself off with a towel, stretching. You spotted a soft, white robe hanging near the sink, and glancing at your dirty clothes that were tossed in the corner, you decided that you should probably put something less disgusting on. You put it on hastily, shivering a little in the cold air. You felt a lot cleaner.

You opened the bathroom door and went out to the lobby, surprised to see Flowey waiting in the food area with a pot of something on the counter.

"O-oh, were you waiting?" You asked, stuttering a little.

Flowey shrugged. "Only for five minutes or so. I didn't want to bother you."

"Sorry." You murmured.

"It's fine." He replied, shrugging again. "I've got some spaghetti here, so we can eat now if you want."

You scoffed. "How'd you get spaghetti down here?" You asked.

"Papyrus. The spaghetti addict of the Underground." Flowey snorted. "Well, I mean, at least he was the spaghetti addict of the Underground. He's on the surface now, so...." He frowned slightly, but perked up. You could tell that it was kind of forced. You decided that it was best not to ask who Papyrus was.

"Okay." You murmured. "So, um... is there a dining room, or an eating area or something like that?" You asked, tugging at the collar of your shirt. You tried to push down the giddy feeling that you were getting in your stomach.

Flowey nodded. "Yeah." He gestured to a door on the left side of the lobby. You followed him into a room with a bunch of surprisingly fancy-looking tables and chairs. You spotted one near a window, with plates and silverware already set down. You could only assume that Flowey did it. The candle in the middle was even lit. "Um, I already set the table while you were in the shower...." Flowey murmured, blushing a little. You smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks." You simply said, mostly out if not knowing what else to say. "Should I go grab the spaghetti?" You asked, fumbling with your hands.

"No need." Flowey said simply, and you watched as he extended a vine from the ground--breaking the tiles on the floor while he was at it-- and reached all the way into the lobby to grab the pot. He brought it back, and you were slightly impressed.

You said, "You know, I probably just could have gone and got it, but thanks." You chuckled, scratching your neck. You used a spoon to scoop the spaghetti onto your plate, your stomach growling at the smell. Flowey snickered teasingly, and your face heated up a little. After you were done serving yourself, your flower friend did the same, sitting at the seat across from you.

"I hope it tastes okay." Flowey murmured. You lifted some up into your mouth. It was actually really good. I mean, not outstanding, but it was like something from a restaurant.

You swallowed. "It's really good!" You commented. He blushed a little and smiled sheepishly. His expression was adorable, and your face turned red too.

"Thanks...." Flowey murmured with his shy smile, but then the smile went away, and the look in his eyes was replaced by a spark of sadness.

"What's wrong?" You asked gently, taking another bite of the spaghetti.

It took him a second to answer. "I dunno. I... I don't really want you to leave, I guess... I've grown closer to you than I thought...." His face flushed again at admitting it. You were quiet for a moment, and you wondered.

"Well... I know you kind of... get upset when I mention it... but I want to bring you up to the surface... and I think we can convince Frisk that you've changed...." You offered quietly.

"Changed?" Flowey repeated. His voice was small. "It's only been a week or so... they wouldn't let me go."

You were silent for a second. "Even if they don't, I'll visit you...." You murmured, trying to comfort him. You couldn't tell if it was working.

"But it's not the same." He said. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. "I'll stop being so depressing now. Sorry...."

"No, no." You shrugged. "It's fine. I'll always be there to listen if you want to talk."

Flowey smiled slightly. "Thank you...." He murmured, almost too quiet to hear. The two of you continued eating in silence, and your mind was racing. He said that he had grown closer to you than he thought he would, right? Could that mean that he liked you? You knew that the relationship would probably never work out, considering that you were a person and he was a frigging talking flower, but you couldn't help but wonder if it was possible. But how the hell do you confess that? And if he rejected you, it would be even more embarrassing. But maybe, maybe he liked you too?

Were you overthinking this?

Probably. A voice in your mind answered.

But still. What if he did like you? You doubted that you would be brave enough to confess, and you also suspected that he wouldn't admit it if he did like you.

Jesus, this place is making me crazy. You thought, taking another bite of spaghetti. You looked over at Flowey, sitting across from you. He seemed shy, looking down at his plate. You just sighed and kept eating, wondering if any of it was possible. What if?