"What's wrong, my boy?" Asgore asked when he saw his son enter the garden, where he was tending to his golden flowers.
Asriel was rubbing his right eye and sniffing, tears threatening to spill over his eyelids. Asgore picked him up and hugged him to his chest. He sat down on his chair in the center of the flower bed, allowing his son to cry freely.
When most of his sobbing subsided, Asriel finally said with a wavering voice, "T-they pushed me."
Asgore didn't ask who "they" were. He knew that he would get no answer from his son, typical for someone that was being picked on. It was probably some bully.
"I wish I was bigger," Asriel continued.
Asgore nodded.This was another thing he always said after being bullied. The king understood his son's wishes. Unlike Asgore, who was bulky and tall since childhood, Asriel inherited his mother's scrawny and small body.
This was the last day that he saw his son like this, the king told himself, he was going to put an end to this.
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