Warnings: Major spoilers for the Pacifist ending

Guilt. What an odd thing to feel. Incomplete, yet still there, and it encompassed everything. It had been so long since he had last felt anything, and yet now here it was, the very last emotion he would have wanted to experience. If he were capable of properly feeling the emotion, he knew he would likely be wallowing in grief or despair. Thankfully, both of those emotions were far too strong for him to experience. After all, he had only gained a small portion of a soul. A small chunk, not even close to half the size of a complete soul.

How it had happened was beyond him, though he suspected that it was entirely his own fault, or should he say Asriel's fault. He must have done something during the time that he had gathered the six human souls and all of the monsters' souls from the Underground. Perhaps something of his old, lost soul had lingered around and nestled its way back into this joke of a body. Maybe he had unintentionally stolen small portions of other monsters' souls and kept them as his own. Either way, it didn't matter now, as had he an incomplete soul and he was not happy about it.

He sat, staring dejectedly into the small flower patch he had taken up residence in long ago. The grove at the end of the Ruins was ideal, seeing as it was the most secluded area of the Underground, not that it mattered anymore; everyone had left a couple of years ago. Surrounded by flowers not unlike himself, gazing towards the opening of Mt. Ebott, far above him. It was quiet and lonely. He could spend the rest of this timeline like this.

While he never could completely remember anything that occurred before any of Frisk's true resets, he could always scrounge up bits and pieces of those timelines. He knew that situations like this—where the Barrier was destroyed and the monsters made it to the Surface—had come by numerous times. He knew that Frisk (or the anomaly?) would always, without fail, eventually do a true reset, sending everyone back to the Underground.

During those other timelines, when everyone was free and he was left behind to rot, he wondered if the past versions of himself had also gained small bits of their souls back. He wondered if they too regretted everything they had done; if they feared for the next true reset, when it would all be taken away. Was this how that smiley trash bag always felt? Knowing that even though he had finally found freedom on the Surface, it could and would be taken away at any second, and by the child whom he had adopted, no less?

Grumbling, he shook his head. Taking his glare up to the opening of Mt. Ebott, he did his best to crush the guilt and fear building up within him. This was not how he was. For god's sake, he didn't feel nonsense like this! That was…well, that was his old self's job; to feel. Vaguely, he wondered if Asriel knew what he had been doing when he made the conscious decision to stay in the Underground, waiting for his regained body to fade away and return to its state as a (now mostly) soulless flower. Perhaps he suspected that his counterpart would unintentionally maintain a small chunk of soul. Perhaps Asriel kept the small fragment on purpose.

These were of course pointless thoughts, as he could very clearly remember the short amount of time he spent as the former prince. As much as he hated to admit it, they were the same being, and he could remember just as much of his time as Asriel as the small prince could remember of his time as a soulless flower. The prince never knew he would keep a fragment of a soul; he merely felt that he had no right to return to the Surface with everyone. Despite this, he could not stop thinking that perhaps somewhere, somehow, Asriel had just known.

Sighing, he dropped his head, looking for all purposes like a wilted flower. These were pointless thoughts, indeed. It didn't matter at this point. It never would matter. Given enough time, Frisk would reset. No one would remember a thing, including both he and that obnoxious pile of trash skeleton. There was no point in anything anymore. He supposed he should be at least a little bit thankful at being able to forget, though. After all, going through the same timeline over and over again got quite dull after a while. Being able to forget kept things interesting for him.

The ground beneath him darkened as something, likely clouds, blocked off the sun's view from Mt. Ebott's opening. Not even bothering to lift his gaze to check up above him, he closed his eyes, further lowering his head. He tried to tell himself how much he hoped that Frisk would reset the timeline soon. Things were getting near unbearable for him, what with the constant guilt and fear running through his soul, both emotions small and incomplete, yet still present enough to drive him mad.

Besides, things were beginning to get boring. Something exciting needed to happen soon, otherwise he was certain he'd drown in all of his new, broken emotions. Unfortunately, no one in their right mind would ever want to return to the Underground, so there was no hope there. All he could do was sit and wait, hoping against hope that something would happen sooner or later.

A/N: Here's my longest written fanfiction ever, guys. I mentioned in another fic that I'll be experimenting with faster pacing in this, since I tend to write stories that just drag on forever. So I apologize if the pacing is too fast or a bit confusing. The next chapter will jump right into things, with very little explanation of what's going on, so you'll be just as left in the dark as Flowey will be. This is intentional. If jumping into things and leaving them ambiguous like this is too confusing, then I'll try to write up some intro chapters, but we'll see what happens.