The King and I (Asgore X male reader)

The Week Ahead

   These past couple weeks have felt rather sureal of late. In such a short time, your life has been more or less completely changed by meeting one individual. Granted he is very different from others, because of course, he is a monster. Asgore is the kindest, most compassionate being you have ever met. You both share lots of common interests, and the dynamic between the two of you makes you wonder how you lived so long without this kind of friendship.
   But as with any friend, monster or man, they all have their own troubles. One in particular is bothering you. The note. The one you saw in Asgore's counter under the cash register. The mention of someone close to the former king leaving to somewhere away from him makes you strangley uneasy. The memory of that day when Asgore was crying over the note doesn't help your growing concerns. Who is this sender? Who exactly is Toriel?
   As-per-usual, your thoughts are interupted when Asgore steps out from behind the curtain to the back room.
   "I think we're about ready to start closing up shop," he says in his usual soft, resonant voice. You nod as you begin putting away lists of inventory and the like.
   "Bit of a long day," you comment. Asgore scratches his bearded cheek.
   "Yes it has been, hasn't it?"
   "Like I'm not complaining about the business or anything," you quickly correct. Asgore chuckles and walks over to the door to flip the open sign to the closed side.
   "I understand what you mean, do not worry."
   Oh Asgore. He's just so perfect. It's hard to think of much else when you are around him. Despite this, however, the nagging thought of the handwritten note still lingers in the back of your mind. Somewhere inside, you know the matter will not be settled until you bring it up, but at the same time, you don't want to. The note almost makes you feel...jealous?
   You brush the notion away rather promptly. Jealousy is a sour emotion; it taints the mind and clouds judgment while giving way to impulsive actions. That is exactly the kind of disastrous mindset you want to avoid. Perhaps it would be best to lay the issue to rest for now. Coming back to the note at a later date could give you some much needed time to reflect on wether or not it's a big deal...or if it really is any of your business at all.
   Asgore returns to the counter, picking up a clipboard from the corner. He flips through the pages clamped to it, his large fingers surprisingly dextrous. Stopping at one page, he examines it carefully before leaning over to show you.
   "I wanted to let you know," he says as he points to a stretch of days drawn out on the paper, "Since Thanksgiving is up and coming, we'll be having a bit of time off from the shop."
   You look the scheduel over, examining the days marked in a long graphite line for the length of a week.
   "Are you sure we should close for that ling?" You pose the question with genuine concern, "What I mean to say is, wouldn't that hurt your profits quite a bit?"
   Asgore smiles reassuringly and then points a big fluffy finger and the weekend before the holiday week.
   "I thought you'd catch on to that. This three day span here is what will allow us to have time off. I've put an ad in the Pennysaver that there is to be a sale at the shop for the duration of these three days."
   You return to a neutral stance with your hands resting on the counter in front of you.
   "That's gonna mean a lot of work," you observe. Asgore nods thoughtfully as he tucks the clipboard back under his arm.
   "It will be quite intensive," he afirms, "but this was realistically the only way I could afford to take a break. Quite literally."
   You smile at that. The more you think about the plan, the better it starts to sound. It will be hectic, that much is certain. But if anyone deserves a break, it's Asgore. If nothing else, it'll be worth it for him.
   "Are you sure we won't have too much on our hands for the weekend?" You pose the question almost ironically. After some of the days you've already endured, this certainly feels no different...on paper.
   "I believe we can manage, so long as we both keep on our feet."
   That's the spirit. As cliché as it may sound, the positive attitude towards difficult tasks really does help.
   "So that's next weekend, right?"
   "Indeed," Asgore confirms. He dissapears breifly into the back room and returns a moment later without the clipboard. He mills around the shop, perusing the various potted flowers you've grown to know by heart. As you follow Asgore's course around the room, your gaze is involuntarily drawn towards the clock just above the shelves.
   Oh boy. You really need to get going. Your heart sinks a lottle as it always does when you realize you must go back home, but there is sadly nothing to do about it. You let out an audible sigh and untie your clerk's apron, draping it over the corner as you pass the counter to grab your backpack. Asgore watches as you hoist the bag onto one shoulder, carrying your jacket in the other arm.
   "You know, you should really wear your jacket first. The wind is quite chilly out today, especially at this time in the evening."
   "I was planning on just jogging out anyway," you reply in an unconcerned tone, "I'll be fine."
   "It was only a suggestion," he says with a smile, though his eyes betray his worry. Oh Asgore. You absolute doof.
   "...alright. Just to rest your mind."
   You equip the jacket and zip it up snugly to your throat. The big goat man looks much more at ease now that that's been done. You can't help but to laugh. What a silly little thing to worry over.

...

Thank you for worrying, Asgore.
_____________________*______________________

   As you step outside the shop and wave to Asgore over your shoulder, you are ever more thankful you heeded Asgore's warning. The air is very chilly, enough so to the point where your nostrils sting a little when you inhale. Fully aware that this weather is going to make the walk home feel much longer than it otherwise would if it were warmer, you quicken your pace down the sidewalk, watching for patches of ice as you go. The weekend seems manageable enough. The real challenge is going to be getting through this school week. You've already been dreading the tests you'll be taking this week, and remembering them now is rather bad timing. Oh well, I guess there's nothing ti be done about that but to study...
...
?
   You stop as you round the corner of a building to see the library standing tall on the opposite side of the road. That's nornal enough; however, it is the old librarian who catches your attention and furthermore, your curiosity. She is out tending to the flowers in a situated bed just next to the front enterance. How they are still alive is and will always be a mystery, but just now something is happening to them. The old woman kneels in front of the vibrant coloured flora, seeming to pad down the earth around them. Then, something truly peculiar happens. As if a spark of green flame had been struck onto the flowers, the lady waves her hand over the bed almost nonchalantly, a faint green glow emanating softly around the leaves and stems.
   You gasp. You can't help it. Though perhaps you should have been a little quieter. As if feeling your eyes on her, the ild librarian turns to look at you from across the street. Still kneeling with her flowers, she gives a friendly smile and turns away again. Having seemingly not much else to do, you shift awkwardly for only a moment and continue along the sidewalk on your way back home.
   That was magic. Undoubtedly. The supernatural has very little chance to occur without intent from an outside source. Your only question right now is where did the librarian ever learn to do that? It is certainly nothing the every day pedestrian could sinply know. Perhaps she has more to her story than you had previously known.

Perhaps.