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“You can’t keep running from this,” Tails pleaded. “From—whatever this is. I’m being serious.”
“Like I said. I’m fine,” Sonic said. “Just…don’t worry about it, buddy.”
“You can’t keep running from this,” he mocked. “Pfft. Please. As if they even knew what it was. As if they would even care.”
He had shattered the mirror. The gloves were indestructible.
He hated this so much that he screamed.
So he does what he does best; fuck everything up.
The smallest touch made him flinch. It made him jump. Skin crawling feelings—it was horrible. Utterly horrible. It was like he was little again, powerless. Frozen. Broken like he was then, if not more.
And dear chaos, he wanted to sob.
But the sobs were stuck in his chest. Tears were refusing to spill free. Everything was locked in his soul after so long, and he could only cope with the secret for so long before the worthlessness got to him. Tails was so kind, someone who Sonic did not deserve as a brother, but he would never tell him the truth. Yes, he was twenty now. And no longer a kid. Some things were never to be talked about out loud.
Some things in life, Sonic would have to take to the grave.
This would be one of them.
Sonic was not okay. He was pushing thirty, which was a feat in his age that he even made it this long considering all the ass beatings he had gotten into since he was fourteen and in the states. But the truth was the truth; the blue blur was just a blue burn out who ran away from his problems.
So he did.
He ran away from Green Hills. Ran away from the city. Everything behind. The scar on his lip served as a reminder that he wouldn’t be welcome back anytime soon. And truthfully? It brought him great relief and joy when he realized that. He was glad, for once, that Knuckles didn’t pull his punches. That he could push everyone away. Good . It would help everyone in the end.
It was easier to cut off all ties intentionally than brace yourself for the inevitable rejection that will follow. The sooner the world realized that he wasn’t worth anything, the easier it would be when everything fell apart.
So, after a decade of swearing he would never set foot again, he returned home to Kiribati. Lived by himself in the southernmost part of Kiritimati. The village was near and received weekly shipments from Tahiti of any supplies needed. Not that he needed much anyways. He was an island boy to his soul, whether he denied it or not. And he never denied it. This was Kiribati. This was home.
‘Taku te nunui.’ He had murmured in between tears when he felt the water beneath his bare feet in the ocean, not daring to wander any further because of the fear that still filled his chest. ‘I am home.’
And this was home. He was born here. Raised here before he left for the states after escaping from the hurricanes, where he started his life again. The damage was long since gone now, with international support taking over a decade to rebuild. But his heart was where Shadow was, and if home was where the heart is, then Sonic’s home is very far away from his childhood house.
‘Taku te nunui,’ Sonic had said to the land where he was born the saltwater in the horizon and the salt from his tears on his lips. ‘Te kairori n aron te raoi.’
I am home, but my heart is not here.
Home was an empty house with scarce belongings that he had brought with him from the trip. It faced the ocean. It was empty, haunted, with memories long since gone. He saw the messages from his friends on his solar powered phone—he didn’t reply to them most of the time. He was alone save for the rare trips to the village market. He needed to be alone, right now, as he figured out himself and his own soul. As he tried to get rid of the phantom touches that still burned alongside him, the ones he wanted gone. The ones he had tried to claw off. No amount of liquor in his veins or smoke in his lungs, or soreness in his limbs, would ever get those phantom touches away.
It would never go away.
At least being alone meant he was away from everyone else. He wouldn’t hurt them. The farther he was, the less he would hurt them with his words and for the tendency of danger to follow him around. So he found himself here, alone, in a house he once called home. Away from everyone that mattered to him. It was week three of no contact.
And then there was a knock on his door.
Sonic opened it and like his worst nightmare, Shadow showed up on his doorstep.
“How did you get here?” Sonic asked, voice weary from disuse.
“Solar powered Jet Ski.”
“All the way from the US?!”
“No. From Tahiti.”
Oh. Made sense.
“Well, you made a mistake in coming here,” Sonic said simply. “I’m not in the mood to take visitors.” He went to close the door, but Shadow stopped it. And if there was one thing Shadow was—
It was strong.
And stubborn. But had anyone asked Shadow if he was both, he would deny the latter. But the truth was that Shadow was stubborn; in his ideals, in his morals, in his stances. And in his decisions.
Like him holding the door from closing.
“Sonic.” His voice was stoic and so was his posture.
Sonic gritted his teeth and tried to shut the door, but it would not budge. “Dude, come on,” Sonic said. “Let go.”
“No.”
“Let go.”
“We need to talk.”
“We don’t,” Sonic snapped. He tried shoving the door closed with both hands. “Why does no one understand that I want to be left alone?!”
Now, Shadow was here. They hovered around each other in silence. It was uncomfortable at times, but Sonic will admit this to himself; he was lonely and having company wasn’t…bad?
It wasn’t bad.
Even though he tried to deny it, he loved this man so much that it hurt.
Shadow didn’t need to know about the night terrors, the fear that never went away, and the disturbing yet normal fact that he couldn’t keep a meal down in his stomach anymore because the crying wouldn’t let him stomach it. Shadow didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know that.
Sonic wanted to be alone because…No one deserved the punishment that was being around Sonic the Hedgehog. He wasn't processing the trauma, he was living with it.
And yet, Shadow was right here.
“I’m not going back,” Sonic said firmly. “I don't want to talk about it. I can’t—”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Shadow said bluntly. The obviously unheard ‘ for now ’ was louder than the silence. “And we don't have to go back.” The unheard ‘for now’ was somehow louder. “But you shouldn’t be alone.” And the unspoken ‘at all’ was the loudest of all.
“Me being alone…Like you’re one to talk.”
“I am, actually.” Shadow crossed his arms, unamused. None of Sonic’s words worked on him, because he knew them too well. He knew Sonic better than he knew himself. He knew that this horror—whatever Sonic was going through—was not going to be easy to figure out. “I am one to talk. Because I’ve been there.”
I’ve been there and you’ve dragged me out of it every single time.
“Look. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on? Fine. You don’t want to come home to the states? Okay. But you don’t get to be alone either,” Shadow said firmly.
“You’re not my keeper,” Sonic said. “Actually?! Of all the people back home,it should be you who should be happiest that I’m not around anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You should be happy I’m out of your sight, out of your mind. Why you’ve come all the way here to talk to me makes no sense.”
“You left in the middle of the night with no warning. It only seems fair for me to do the opposite to do the same.”
“So, what, you’re staying?”
“Yes.”
“Well, make yourself at home.”
At the start, Sonic couldn’t share the bed and said so outright. Why? He didn’t say. But he easily gave it up for Shadow to sleep on. A week passed.
Shadow didn’t press on it, but he refused to take Sonic’s bed and slept on the couch.
They cooked for each other. Maybe sometimes watched television on the small television in the living room. But Sonic kept his distance on the couch.
On the fifth day of the second week, Shadow sat outside underneath the palm tree. He finished his book and was merely taking in the scenery of the sunset that somehow always managed to be different. He had no rush to go back to the states. If the world was ending, everyone else could deal with it. And Sonic had already stopped trying to kick him out on the second day; he knew it wouldn’t work.
Behind him, he heard soft footsteps in the sand. Shadow turned around and saw Sonic.
Sonic went to Shadow and held his hand out. Wordlessly, Shadow got it. He followed Sonic’s lead into the house, down the hall, Sonic went to his room, into the unmade bed. Shadow understood.
It was halfway into sundown, but Shadow took off his sandals and laid down behind Sonic in the bed.
Like every night, Shadow wondered what was haunting Sonic so much that led him to run away to the isla he once called home. He wondered how bad it was that Sonic pushed all his friends—even his own little brother—away. And so badly , he wanted to ask.
Shadow went across the world for answers. He wanted answers. He had woken up to Sonic's side empty and Sonic's drawer bare and an utterly broken heart that has been ripped from his chest and crushes into pieces.
Shadow deserved answers.
But instead of asking for them, Shadow pulled Sonic into his arms. Held him close. Said nothing, and did nothing, except give him comfort that Sonic evidently needed but was not proud to admit. No. Not proud.
He was scared.
Something scared Sonic bad enough that he had to retreat to the farthest point in the world that he could think of. That he had to isolate himself.
Something scarred him enough to be here, away from major civilization. Away from him.
He pulled the blanket on top of them. Held Sonic as close as he could. He focused on the sound of the wind and ocean waves outside the window. Listened to Sonic’s breathing, noted that it was clear, yet shaking. And the tears began pouring.
Oh, Sonic…
“I’m sorry.”
You should be. But Shadow instantly pushed that thought away.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left.”
Shadow shushed him and stroked his head. Let it rest under his chin. Let his frustrations step back and focus on his partner in front of him.
“Please forgive me for leaving.”
“Of course I do,” Shadow said. “Of course I forgive you, mi angel.”
Four days later, in the middle of the night, Shadow woke up to Sonic shaking.
“Breathe,” Shadow said softly.
“It’s okay,” Sonic said. “I’m—okay. I’m fine. Just—” He could barely breathe. “Just give me a moment. I’m okay,” Sonic reassured him. He soothed and made himself smaller. “I’m—I’ll be okay.”
He wasn’t aggressive or angry like he had been when he first arrived. He was just…scared.
“Let’s make some coffee. It will be okay. I love you.”
Then it hit Shadow. The aversion to touch, the sleeplessness. The nightmares. The boiling showers he took. It wasn’t from the beatings and fights that they have both been through since they were teenagers with the villains of the weeks. It was from something far more sinister.
But
Two weeks passed since the nightmare. Sleep was coming easier to both of them. Sonic could eat a full meal now, more or less. He didn’t pick up Tails’s phone calls, but he answered his text messages every now and then.
Eventually, the truth came out during a dinner they both lost appetite for. Sonic cried. Shadow cried. They both wept. But for once, they did not feel overheard by the big city.
Shadow held him tighter than he had in years.
For the time being, they would live together in Kiribati.
Another night later, he had fallen asleep on his side as always, curled under his fleece blanket, light snores filling the air. Shadow followed suit, when sleep eventually arrived to his restless self.
But he always held his hand during the night, no matter what. Sometimes, they were too fidgety to share a blanket.
Shadow had his own blanket, polkadot black and white that he had bought in the village market, and wrapped around himself. It was similar to the blanket he had on the ARK, so long ago. Sonic’s blanket was of Formula 1 karts; his childhood blanket that had laid intact behind all those boxes. And then there was the comforter on top of them both. Though the days were warm on the sea side, the nights? Not so much.
In the evening, Sonic kissed him briefly. It was their first kiss in almost a month.
He could taste the sweetened tangerine juice on his tongue. It was a simple kiss, really. But it was enough for Shadow to melt and feel complete.
His phone buzzed and Shadow woke up to answer the text messages. He slept with his phone on the bed as a habit.
Rouge; “are you both ok?”
Shadow; “Yes”
Rouge; “good. how's he?”
Shadow; “Better, I suppose.”
Rouge; “that's a vague answer”
Shadow: “You know how he is. He's Sonic.”
He glanced down at Sonic's sleeping form next to him, covered in a blanket.
Shadow; “But he's okay.”
Rouge: “good. are you okay?”
Shadow; “What?”
Rouge; “you. your wellbeing. your soul. are you okay? you were so worried about him…”
Shadow; “Of course I was. He's the love of my life. But being next to him here has made me feel so much better, more than words can respond.”
Rouge; “i have a feeling that you're not the same.”
Shadow; “Neither of us will be. But we’ll adjust. We always do. And I guess I wore the mask too well. For now, we’ll both be here. We need to recharge.”
Rouge: “take your time, sweetie. i miss you.”
Shadow: “I miss you too.”
“I used to think that it’s easier to run from it,” Sonic admitted the next morning.
“It isn’t. But I’ll run with you to the path to feel better.”
“Really?”
“Yes. With my entire soul and being. We’ll find help and make it better.”
Sonic smiled and kissed him. And the air felt so much lighter.