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It’s silent in his workshop. Still. Frozen. Unmoving. He’s left wondering how long he was like that when Sonic had shattered the world.
It wasn’t really his fault that the story had stuck with him for days now, he wouldn’t even say so to his face. It already seemed like enough was on his mind, and it had only been moments since he’d last seen Sonic from his own perspective. He’d fallen asleep observing Tails while he worked the first night after the “incident” (as Tails now personally called it), and the hug he was given moments after that strange prism was Chaos-controlled away felt like it would’ve broken something if Sonic were instead Amy or Knuckles. It was worlds that he didn’t get to witness, worlds he hadn’t gotten the chance to help Sonic in just like he always had.
It was worlds that broken pieces of him were just existing in! And it sounded like, though Sonic kind of just brushed it off , the caring , feelings-sparing guy that he was now, some broken piece of him gave him the most trouble out of anyone else there.
Not even five Eggmans ended up being worse than this “Nine” character was. How was he supposed to feel about that?
Tails figures his extensive recounting probably was for transparency’s sake. He appreciates that, it would’ve been offputting and scary had Sonic not let everyone in on that.
But…
Everything just felt so off now. Sonic was always nicest to him, he didn’t mind that so much. They were best friends. They are best friends. He’s always got the best behavior around Tails out of most anyone else, probably just because Tails sat firmly on the younger side of their friends age-wise and Sonic didn’t really feel like messing with an eight year old. Especially not if that eight year old can repair and operate heavy machinery with cannon attachments involved. That plus the fact Sonic had kind of just been there for Tails in a nurturing way since day one. Either way, Sonic always treated Tails a little differently. Usually with more consideration.
It didn’t bother him until now. Maybe Sonic was always a little better behaved around him, but this was ridiculous . It felt like he was walking on eggshells, disregarding the comedic lens that wording may take on in reference to their day-to-day, and it made Tails feel sick.
He’d begun spent a lot of time thinking about himself, himself, and whatever other himselves were in the Shatterspace.
Nine. Tails Nine. Miles Nine. Whatever he was, whoever he was. He wanted to destroy the Shatterspace, rebuild the Shatterspace, reform the Shatterspace. He had motives that were unclear, seeming to evolve as Sonic described the status of the Shatterspace growing more dire.
Nine wanted a world where he and Sonic could be friends forever. A world where Sonic would never leave him. Tails wouldn’t deny the appeal in that sort of thing, even if Nine likely had different thoughts on Sonic than he did, it wasn’t as out-there as he might’ve been with any other plan.
But a friend that’s stuck with you and you alone, wouldn’t that be so isolating? It didn’t sound like the world he was making would even be fit for Sonic. No room for adventure. No friends to talk to, rivals to banter with. Nine had no clue who Sonic really was but he seemed to feel entitled to keep him forever .
And this is what a shattered Tails created. A possessive, violent, scary , awful , mean person. One who stood directly in the way of Sonic wanting to be home. In the way of his wishes, his wants, and what he worked for. Someone who only ever did what he wanted with no regard for what Sonic might have.
Is this what he would have been if he’d encountered Sonic too late?
Is this some real reflection of his own mind? His own feelings? Did he secretly desire to hide Sonic away, clipping his wings to stop him from running? Selfishly trapping him just to keep himself from being lonely?
Did Sonic think he was?
It wasn’t often Tails grew so insecure about how Sonic felt about him. They were practically glued together 24/7 and Sonic never had a bad thing to say about him outside of some complaints towards questionable scheduling when it came to his sleeping patterns. He’d always been clear that he cared about him, Tails never had a reason to doubt that. He worried now, though, that Sonic was scared of him. Scared of what he might do if “slighted.”
Lost in his own thoughts, he hardly realized he’d been frozen stiff for minutes. Maybe longer. He felt a small part of himself weep, unsure if it was made into action or kept solely in his mind. The only proof of his thoughts crawled slowly down his face, shrinking as it soaked into the fur it passed.
The Paradox Prism was restored now, wasn’t it? So everything was back to normal. And some part of him, the sickest, most evil part of him, had to fit back in to make “Miles Prower” whole again. Wasn’t that how that worked? He hopes not. He hopes Nine was some anomaly, existing far away and separate from who he was and how his best friend thought of him.
He didn’t know when the crying escalated. When Sonic got there. When the incoherent babbling started. When he moved again, removed from the corpse-like stasis he’d been trapped in.
Tails may be reassured excessively from now on, he seems to observe, the conversation reduced near purely to his whining and the “comfort” from his less-than-comfort-savvy friend. An earlier attempt at “lightening the mood” would have only dampened it further, but by the time some stupid joke had finally escaped the hedgehog, it was far enough along that he wouldn’t be immediately criticized for its questionable timing. Besides, it was probably a world record for Sonic in the “not saying something ridiculous” category. He had to give him that, at the very least.