Archive of Our Own

“You should really leave me to die, too.” 

Words barely muttered upon a destroyed wasteland, by the bloody lips of a bloody bastard, Sonic thought. As if he'd stoop as low as the other now, he was a lot of things; an assassin, yes, heartless? Sadly less so. For all the hold he had over his own feelings, the blond always had something about him. That something that made Sonic seek him, out of the rest of the runt trained for murder. Maybe there was something unspoken about them, something they couldn't even grasp themselves. So, no, he couldn't leave Flash to profusely bleed out on scraps, to pass in a pile of failed hope, now that he got hold of him again, he wouldn't let him have the pleasure of such a tragic and beautiful end. If anyone was going to give him an ending, it would be him, so he could not let him bleed out just yet. Of course he knew there was some kind of guilt, hidden in the sight of the other ninja, but he couldn't let his mind linger on it too long, for his own emotional safety. He was only strong as long as their past stayed tainted and buried. He couldn't even bother providing the other with a verbal response, perhaps the rough  sideways pulling on his arm, to get Flash into an easier position to then pull up into his arms, scratch that part, pull up point, was enough words for Sonic. He could , also, maybe, eventually, get some kind of closure he so dreads, even for as much as he tries to avoid it. He couldn't avoid the being in his arms. By now, the ninja in his arm was almost limp, the injuries catching up to him, breath slowing, blood spilling, Sonic guessed that he had some more injuries internally, if he did not act fast, he'd surely perish. Blast had long gone back to the association, Void in toe, and it would have been so easy to let Flash go with them, but he couldn't, he didn't even know why, it was always Flash and Him, no matter how much had gone down, maybe that's what motivated him to keep the profusely bleeding blond. 

Sonic had a name, and he didn't have it for nothing, he was fast. He could run, even with a body in his arms, quickly from point A to point B. He probably couldn't go to a regular hospital, starting to regret, half heartedly, not having left Flash in the care of actual professionals. Sonic gently laid him on his own mattress, in his “hideout”, that was more of an abandoned apartment he had taken as his own. It was small, one main room, a bathroom and a small kitchen, enough to come back to, from time to time. He went to work on the other's injuries. Taking off the other's cape,slightly undressing him, of the top half of his outfit, enough to access the source of his pain, he had long since passed out, the only one to endure the heavy silence was Sonic. He was hurt more than he expected, but again, not as terribly as what he thought he'd have to fix. He was slashed in the shoulder, in the torso, not so deeply, but still enough for concern, most of the internal injuries, he supposed, seemed more like reopened wounds from something recent thanks to the blunt force traumas. As long as he monitored Flash decently, he would be all good in no time, even if the thought of falling back to that incredible loneliness, fueled with anger and bitterness, was not appealing. Managing to guilt some answers out of him, then never meeting again. Then again, in that extremely vulnerable state, which he didn't know was possible for the other, he thought about how easy wringing his neck would be, watching him open his eyes again in desperation, trying to gasp for air, realising that what he should have killed is killing him himself. But that'd be a waste of resources, and a waste of all the mental energy that brought him to this point. 

He couldn't help but look at the prone being in his care in something akin to disturbance each time one of his fingers twitched in pain under his touch. He certainly was made to be able to stand that pain, wasn't he? Did the association make him soft? The pride and skills the other had taken so long to meticulously craft, was it so fragile to break under Sonic's fingertips? He knew he wasn't exactly the gentlest carer, but certainly he did not use enough pressure as to shatter bones and tear muscles. His job was certainly decent. The alcohol rubbed into the wounds, to deter the outside dust from causing anymore damage, to not let him die from sepsis or infection. Because if anyone had a right to claim Flash's life it was Sonic himself. He went so far for an old friend that tried to get rid of him, nobody else could claim a right over his life and death but him, and the more he looked at the other the more he longed to scream, to hurt him until he got an answer for all that they were so long ago, for all that they could have been. Hands that have known no gentleness, there was no redemption now, was there? They'd chosen their paths and they'd lie in their tombs, with no name and nobody else to remember them. Don't get him wrong, he was an assassin but he was civilised, he couldn't just get his answers just yet, despite the reservations he held and broke constantly, not when the other was still unconscious, but he could force it out of him later, Flash had no way out without going through Sonic even if he did awaken, there was still time for a perspective change, in a way. 

The village really fucked them up didn't it?

Sewing up the remaining wound on the other's shoulder, he still took into account the man's scars, painted across his body, not too dissimilar to his own, not that he'd admit it, that despite everything, they still couldn't escape one another, their paths weren't parallel, but a weird perpendicular shape that didn't want them apart for too long, to whatever dismay he felt. Of course he couldn't really do anything for the internal stuff, other than stop him from messing himself up some more. He still couldn't help but wonder, not quite in empathy, where the inside injuries came from, where did his technique, as they both fought on the remnants of their once shared hopes, originated from. Nothing like that was ever taught back there, and the Hero Association didn't seem the most knowledgeable on the subject, barely any of them were worth remembering anyways. He'd add that to the list of things he wanted answers for. 

Now there was so little to do, Flash was patched up, and he did himself the same to himself, reflecting on today, alone ,with an unwanted presence on his futon, did not seem at all appealing. What time was it even? The sun was setting, likely past dinner time, but for all that happened today, he'd likely need the energy and comfort of dinner. If his patient would awaken, maybe he'd be craving some food as well, he couldn't know when the other last ate, and he knew he hadn't had anything today himself. Now the question was what to make? Stew, he bitterly laughed to himself, but that felt too on the nose for his liking, he had some originality left dangit. No he'd go more classic, what did he even have in there? He didn't have all the time in the world to rest here, it'd be a miracle if he had anything good left to cook. He had ,surprisingly, a satisfying amount of edible goods left, looking through everything, the most efficient meal he could muster right now was curry. It was filling, warm and the preparation would certainly take his mind away from the blond in the next room over. 

He didn't have all the tools needed, as this wasn't a place he could live in full time, but he'd make due, taking the ingredients out on the table as well as his sharpest, non-work related, knife. If he had to pride himself in an aspect of cooking, he'd say cutting the ingredients apart. It was what he was best at, not even limited to the vegetables or chicken under his blade, for example, if some human part came across the sharp edge, it would come out cleanly cut apart. Maybe this wasn't something he should be proud of, in any other setting than food preparation, or in any other place than in the village, that he'd never go back to. He dropped the ingredients in the broth, adding the curry blocks not too long after. Stirring the amalgamation of chicken, onions, potatoes, and curry around. He filled another pot with water and rice, he hadn't had the opportunity for a rice cooker, again, he could barely even stay in the small desolate apartment he called his own some nights, and today. Oh well, as long as the food was decent and could fill him up, there wasn't many complaints to have, Sonic thought, especially wondering what Flash would say about it, he'd perhaps criticize something in his method, or in the ingredients, leading to Sonic calling him ungrateful, and them both finishing their plates like it was their last meal, in a fakely bitter silence. Perhaps. For how much he wanted to take his mind off of him, and off of the past, even the simplest things brought him right back to that unwanted train of thoughts. Trying to escape the past just made it come back stronger in his mind just a few seconds afterwards. He, resentfully, plated the curry, wondering if there was anything worth spiking the other's dish with, but that'd be another waste of effort on his part. At the same time, becoming aware of noises in the next room over. 

Going over there, the two warm plates of curry in hands, he was greeted by the other, trying, too weakly for Sonic's liking, making him feel uncannily uneasy, to sit up. Flash looked up at him, head snapping in his direction when he appeared inside his field of vision. Sonic could never admit that the very faint, hard to spot, relief in the other made his heart shudder. Staring at each other in silence for a few seconds, he quickly got down, next to the futon, sitting down and placing the plates in front of them both. They were facing each other, Sonic's attention setting the plates down, Flash's on the man in front of him. He seemed rather confused by the plates, but quickly took hold of his cutlery, both beginning to eat after the quick words uttered before any decently mannered dinner. 

Sonic ended up spending most of the dinner time looking at the other, who was now looking at his own plate, never once making eye contact. He still ate, slowly, to keep an eye on the blond and not make a mess, he was still rather proud of his food, don't get him wrong. Due to his, and Flash's respective pride on their skills, he needed to see, maybe not hear, they probably weren't there yet, what the other thought of the food. Of course the ninja knew better than anyone that they'd both be able to eat whatever was presented to them as long as it was edible if needed, but perhaps there was a quest for some kind of validation in there. He observed the one sitting in his futon, eating slowly, but still seeming as if he'd never had a bite of anything in years. If Sonic had to reach, mentally, there was something akin to appreciation in his eyes, and he'd surely have to check himself in an actual hospital and risk another arrest to check up those heart squeezes he's been having. To bury the thoughts, he quickly went back to eating the rice filling his plate. He truly was hungry, no matter how much the other was, unwantedly, distracting him,  the food was a relief that felt as good as he hoped it would. As he continued munching on the chicken pieces, he could hear the small noise of porcelaine being deposited to the ground, where it had been set at first, along with its cutlery. He lifted his eyes back up to Flash, eyes now focused on him, almost sheepishly, muttering a small “Thank you”. He could have choked, had he not learnt to control his reactions. He had expected criticism, maybe just silence, for as much as Flash was put together, they had a complicated history didn't they? 

“Ts, it's nothing.” Is what he ended up replying, not rudely, perhaps dismissively. The other didn't keep up any kind of conversation, he looked perplex, almost like he wanted to ask, or say something, but didn't have the right way to word it, at least he didn't seem to be in any kind of rush to leave, Sonic still had the time to demand his answers.

Quickly enough, he had finished as well and took the plates back to the kitchen under Flash's maintained gaze. 

Coming back into the room, the other, still sitting on the futon, was seemingly looking around, with more energy than what he awoke with. 

“Where are we?” 

He suddenly asked, like he was asking for the weather, but with a bit more caution in his voice. 

“In my apartment.” 

The answer only seemed to partially satisfy him, like he was looking for more.

“Why am I here? Not at the association?”

That's true, why exactly was he here? Sonic wondered, he excused it earlier telling himself it was to get answers, but truly, why? He didn't owe Flash anything. Maybe it was the misery the other was in at the time, maybe some fucked up pity, and the feeling of wanting to kill him himself. He couldn't get answers off of a corpse, but was there something else? He looked at the other's face, aged with the years that had passed, but still incredibly beautiful despite the profession he had, framed with well taken care of golden strands of hair, at his eyes filled with a similar haunt as when they were young, but so blue Sonic could stare at them all day. No he couldn't find any other reasons. 

“I wasn't gonna let you bleed out was I? We have stuff to talk about.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah. Yeah of course we do.”

The hung up words between them left an uncomfortable silence. Sonic took the time to go back to sitting in front of Flash, who still didn't make any movement that'd indicate any attempted escape. Subconsciously, maybe both were in the same boat, fishing for a connection to the other, the only consolation they could find in this world. 

Something shameful, something that neither could just yet put into words, sentences dying on their tongues, desire burning at their core. 

Something they could have built, reduced to ash by the fire of what breaking an individual amounts to. Maybe he'll never get it, maybe all the ruble covering their promised land was just another obstacle for them to get through to get to paradise, just like the way they fell apart may be. If they went at it together, could they fix things? Was it too late? For all the resentment Sonic had towards the blond, there was something so primordial in him craving to hold onto his hand and run away from everyone, from everything, build things anew, where no one could break them apart again. Maybe they'd just stick around enough for Sonic to be able to beat Saitama, and whatever Flash wanted from him, but that'd be enough. Maybe after he'd stab him, just a little, to relieve the hurt he'd felt all these years, they'd take the ashes and shape them back into jewels worth more then the shaky foundation they'd once have been. 

“I don't know where to begin”

Looking at the man, he could have lost his own speech himself, but someone had to be able to speak their emotions here, and if Flash was struggling, he'd lead him there, they always had to help each other with something didn't they? If Sonic could best him, lead him towards things once more, maybe they'd be alright. Or maybe the wishful thinking was only good when it was buried under cynical hatred.

“You could explain the murder attempt.” 

Too blunt. He saw the almost invisible way the other's breath hitched, trying to explain himself, perhaps in a resigned way, readying himself for any reaction that could come his way. 

“You do deserve the answer to that-”

“Yeah.” 

The other sighed.

“I didn't want to let you go, no matter what you believe, but I couldn't…I didn't think…” 

Maybe the pang in his heart mixed with the bitterness, but really, he didn't know why he felt any kind of relief from the information. Flash took some more time, thinking, looking around, breaking down the thick wall that is the pride surrounding his fragility. Sonic didn't take it too badly, he had his own pride to deal with.

“I know better now, at the time I didn't think you'd understand, that you'd share the plans I had. I couldn't let it go on anymore.”

“So you tried to kill me? You didn't say shit to me and tried to poison me?”

“I didn't want you to suffer, I couldn't see you turn like them either.”

The shoe dropped, he didn't know what the weight settled in his soul was, truly it hurt, but he could get behind the reasoning, maybe he could have gotten rid of Flash too, if the other strayed too far, too close to their beliefs. It hurt, because of the long days they shared, next to each other, and the very little nights they hid away from prying eyes, huddling for warmth, and perhaps unspoken comfort. Something the others couldn't have understood, too far rotten, or too far poisoned. It hurt because he never thought the fear would eat at him so bad, that the looming, dooming future would terrify him into trying to gently leave him to decompose with the moss and the carcasses. He couldn't help the anger either, present on his expression, along with the hurt, making the other reflect back with only shame, maybe along with some regret.

“...i'm glad you're alive” 

He spoke it so quietly, as if they were listened in, 

“Was it worth it?”

“I don't know.”

It was his own turn to let out the breath contained within his lungs, he expected something else, but didn't know what. He got even closer to Flash, their knees touching, he excused it by trapping him further, for easier neck slicing, truly it was just a ploy to make sure they were both still real in that moment, feeling the other's breath, seeing his chest rise through the bandages he applied earlier, seeing his eyelashes flutter quickly, almost convincing his eyes to not get watery. Slowly, almost as if trying to pet a stray cat, but still firmly, like handling a wild animal, he took hold of the other's wrist. As he did, a hand was on his holding hand, softly, as if touching porcelaine. Both their eyes met again. 

“Are you happy where you are now?”

“Of course not.”

Never, he didn't want to be an assassin, but what other choice did he have? Taking out scum paid well, that's all he was taught to do, and before now he didn't have the only other being of the same lived-experience, of similar regrets and wants, to carry out the fallen desire of trying to give to others what they were robbed of. 

“And you?”

“...I'm certainly missing things.”

Maybe a spike of hope of reconciliation also joined the bitterness, for as much as he hated heroes, and still does, there was always that something tainted in Flash that set him apart in a way he wanted to tear apart violently and leave out to bleed. 

The blond quickly continued, 

“And what now, what then? Where do we go now?”

He swallowed, not dissimilar to trying to become a monster by cell ingestion; tediously and painfully. That's true, what about now? He didn't want Flash to leave, despite the complex feelings he had about their situation. 

“Can you even leave by yourself?”

A low blow, really, as all he got back was choking and tensing of the hand above his, and the wrist beneath it. 

“Clearly if you wanted me to go, you wouldn't have taken me in.” 

His cheek warmed up a little, he wasn't wrong. The setting sun outside set an orange light over them both, as silence also set. Their hand placement didn't change a bit either. 

Sonic had ditched his scarf not too far away when coming back, Flash's cape rested on it, both covered in dust. None of this was good, they could never leave now that they were roped in with Blast and God's chase. Their shared talent also made them targets, and they had injuries, not all of them physical, to heal. This wasn't good, but it was fine, it'd be fine. 

Maybe Flash would like to leave, maybe Sonic would first. Maybe neither would stray far and they'd take back the habit of sleeping close and sharpen their blades closer. Just maybe. 

“Im sorry”

“For what?”

“For everything. I think, I wish we had met any other way, maybe I wouldn't have hurt you in that way then.”

He sighed again, the orange washing over them barely covering the other's soft colored cheeks, rendered paler by the pain he hid so well now. 

“Nothing could ever change, and for how much I want to carve my vengeance onto you, it won't fix anything.” 

“Mh”  

“For supposedly being the best, you really failed killing me back there”

Flash looked bothered, not in an angry way, but almost, like witnessing stupidity from a loved one. And for as cocky as Sonic was, there was something about the other making his mind rush. 

Maybe he should back off now, the rational part of his mind was pushing for it, while his heart wanted to get closer, in a crazy way, what was that that Void had said? His heart was his lead to Flash's skill lead? Well sometimes they were both irrational, his other hand roughly gripped onto the hand on top of his and he got so close both of their breathing could be considered one.

“Do you want to leave, again?”

“Not without you, no.”

Flash had also slightly moved so that their foreheads were close together, almost touching. Before letting Sonic continue, he added

“You wouldn't follow me until the ends of the earth, and I couldn't ask that, or anything of you, I am aware.”

“Who said that?”

“Wasn't it implied?”

“For as much as I hate you and all other heroes, I don't want to let you disappear again just yet.”

“And you'd stick close to something you hate?”

“Anytime, yeah, to be able to finally cut that tongue of yours off when you least expect it” 

The small grin on the other's face made Sonic's heart twitch and flutter, he despised him so much, despised all the emotions he felt, but what else could he do but keep the other close? 

“You think I'd give you the chance?”

“You wouldn't even have time to.”

Chuckling slightly, Flash leaned back slightly, to Sonic's dismay. Taking his hand back, but not moving the other one, the wrist gripped as if he'd disappear any seconds now, he tilted back his head and exhaled. Sonic felt as if he was melting from the inside, so warm, choking any air from his lungs. Truly he couldn't help but notice that the other had aged so gracefully, he had a delicacy about him. For how much he wanted to carve his heart out, his own one was threatening to leap out of his body. 

Flash looked at the window outside, to the darkening orange and the slow falling of blue onto the sky, desperate to cover it and let the thousands of shining stars dot the sky and light the darkness that is the night. He couldn't remember when he last slept, and couldn't count the moments he spent out of it as a decent resting time. Maybe he should sleep, maybe he should move out of Sonic's futon, but for all the good intentions, the sleepiness was taking over once more. 

Trying to get his emotions back in check, not sure what to think of things, Sonic realised the slowing movements of the other. Something intimate, and vulnerable, that he could only remember from when they were young. Something that he knew the other wouldn't be caught dead as otherwise. Taking back his hand, he moved to stand up, he'd just sleep on the floor tonight, not sleeping wasn't an option, after the long day he had. 

“Rest up” 

“Aren't you laying down as well?”

He looked back to the hero, who, laying down, moved to one side of the futon, almost as if to share it. 

“im good.”

“This is yours.”

So it was. 

He sighed, finally agreeing to take place next to him. Their arms touching, their bodies close, neither looking at each other. Just like then, just like now, maybe he could get used to this once more… 

The exhaustion took over…

Eyes opening, body awakening with renewed energy, trained to get up early and quickly. He was alone in the futon once more, the warmth escaping from his side, his hair ,having untied during the night ,sticking to his skin. He hadn't even bothered changing last night. His mind clearing, he began to wonder if truly, these were just pretty words, empty of meaning, and Flash couldn't bother sticking around anymore then to entertain him. The bitterness came back. Of course, when did the other ever stay? Why would he ever be grateful? He was a hero he could afford to leave and never think of Sonic again. Truly, he should have left him to bleed out when he had time. Still laying down, his eyes to the ceiling, he was reflecting back on the day before, as a little noise brought his mind and eyes to his side.

A hand, putting down a warm cup of tea to his side. 

He spoke too soon, he never did leave after all. Sitting up, he looked at the tea, the cup reflected to the one in Flash's hands. Simple green tea, that he didn't even remember having in his pantry, smoking from the recent brewing. He'd never admit it out loud, or even to himself, but the soft yellow light reflecting off the other's golden hair as he looked at him was one of the most breathtaking sights he had the pleasure of delighting his eyes with. He was still relatively beat up from yesterday, his appearance less than the pristine thing he'd let the cameras and civilians see, but Sonic would be damned if he wasn't so beautiful as to rival snow in its most untouched state. To see him dying it of his red at his hand would be beautiful, he thought vaguely. Grabbing hold of his tea cup, gently bringing it to his lips, eyes still lingering on the blond, he wondered for how many more minutes this peace would go on to last. When would the association need Flash again, when would they chase Sonic away? For all he could care about right now, the other seemed almost content here. Almost, if he could still read the other, and he had been wrong on that before. He almost felt like a guest in his own stolen apartment, or a shared tenant, with how the other seemed to fit in, like it was always meant for them both to belong together, in whatever fucked up ways the universe wanted it to be. 

The apartment he took as his own never felt so lived in, and despite his never ending desires to repaint the worn-down wall with a specific pretty blond's blood, he couldn't help but want to tackle the world with him as well. To right their wrongs, to take back the things stolen from them. 

Setting back the empty cup on where he found it on the floor, his eyes went back up to the soft, almost unnoticeable, smile adorning the other's features, the irrational part of him wanted to wipe the smile off with his own lips, the more rational one wanted to stay right there. Before he even knew what to do, the other had left with the empty cups back to the kitchen. He could hear the water running, and the slight scrubbing of a sponge against the ceramic. Sonic got himself up, stretching a little before joining the other in the narrow kitchen. He thought about re-doing the other's bandages, as the other would allow his hands to roam around to do so. The water running down the sink, Flash turned around, looking at Sonic.

“The Hero Association called me before you woke up.”

“What did they want?”

“They asked me how I was, and if I could take care of a threat.”

“You went out?”

“No, I don't even know where we are.” 

Flash always truly had a pitiful sense of direction, it made Sonic chuckle lightly, and earned him a scowl from the other. The threat didn't matter in the moment, he finally could get the closure he waited years for. The Association would probably keep an eye on him, more than they already did, and his status as an assassin didn't bring him any favorable eyes, alongside the whole issue with Void and “God”’s influence, but all be damned. His hands suddenly fell into another pair of them, being held gently. His hands open, palms towards the ceiling. The other was still topless, Sonic having taken the armor pieces and half of it off the previous day, lazily wondering why he hadn't bothered putting anything back on this morning. Scars painted his skin, where the bandages weren't hiding them, old and healed, but leaving light lines behind. Most he remembered from their training years. Despite everything his hands were barely rough, outside of the spots gripping the sword the most, then again, there was still a softness to the spots. 

“Sonic.”

“Mh?”

The other didn't answer, just looked at him, and then dropped his gaze back to  the hands in his. The assassin's heart picked up in pace again. The hero had a tendency to make him go on the wildest roller coasters of emotions, ever since then, even now. How much he longed for his heart to stop beating for his own to stop pumping his blood so quickly in his chest, threatening to jump out at any moment.

“Aren't you cold?” 

Flash's eyes met his once again. Didn't answer once more, but Sonic still took his hands back, and left the room, under the other's observation. Roaming through his stuff, he fished out a sort of cardigan, throwing it at the other. He seemed to observe the fabric in his hands, slipping it on quickly enough. It fit him well enough. He didn't know why the other wouldn't put his top back on, but he did feel cold, his hands were not exactly warm. As Flash passed his pained arm through, slower, due to the injured shoulder, Sonic went over and zipped it up for him, being oddly close. Once again their breathing could have been considered one and the same, and with this lighting he could appreciate the colors the other's cheeks took as the blood rushed beneath the pale soft skin. Perhaps his own cheeks reflected a similar shade. He hated him so much. 

Hate didn't feel like the word he should use in that setting.

But truly the other inspired so much pain in him, from his blood speeding up in pace to the pain of being left alone for dead all those years back. The hurtful feelings will probably never go away, but he never wanted them to be apart ever again. He needed the other to suffer, but also to feel as he does, that relief, that violent craving of closeness and of getting better. He wanted Flash to hold onto their shared hope once more, this time with more solid foundations, and a more optimistic look. They'd never be fully free but they could continue to break down the training ground's teachings together. 

“You didn't answer me yesterday, what now?” 

“I…” 

“Even with all the good intentions in the world, for all that I want to tell you, I'll have to go back to the association sooner or later, and for how much you hate it, I don't think you'd come along.”

“You're right, I hate them.” ‘More than I could ever hate you’ dies on his tongue.

“Then what now?”

“Go back to being strangers, like you wanted then.” He could see the hurt he felt reflected in the other's eyes.

“If that's what you want.” Sonic sighed at the other's compliance, it's true that he didn't have a say in what Sonic could ever want, but maybe this time they could change the cartridge and write a new story that didn't end that way.

“No. No, that's not what I want.”

“Then, what do you want? For how long can we hold on to the thread I severed back then? Hadn't you let go? Don't start asking me to stay, the thread would just become a noose, pending overhead. And we both know that.” 

“And what if it became something other than that?”

“Can it?”

“How would we know if we didn't try again? Clearly you still need help with your technique to get rid of me, and I still need to get retribution. No matter how much they need you there, and for how long you go slicing the necks of assassins and monsters alike, for how much you'd want to slice mine, and how much I'd like to slice yours, we'll always find each other again. From what happened yesterday, we're obviously doomed together whether we like it or not.” Flash was silent, his arms crossed, hands holding the black, soft, fabric of Sonic's cardigan. 

Sonic had something no one else had, that one ability of being able to read him, just as he was sure that Flash could read him as well. The doubt in the other's eyes he could visualise, and understand, made him waver for a second. What if no matter the pen or the ink, the story was doomed to a bitter ending? He couldn't change it on his own. 

“You'll probably get called there sometimes as well, for the assassinations, for what we witnessed.”

“Eh, I'll survive it.”

“We're probably not going to be over with “God” either.”

“I know that, I didn't think we'd be.”

“How would you even want us to see each other?”

“You think I can't find you whenever I please? You're the only one who's sense of direction is messed up.” If Sonic was feeling mean, he'd have commented on the noise un-worthy of a ninja from the other, who was scowling profusely. To the other's silence he continued;

“Don't think we are friends.” 

He got closer

“I figured, then, what are we?”

He stopped. 

“...not friends”

“You've said that already”

“Oh just shut up.”

“Or what?” Looking up, Flash was smirking. Something so full of malice and playfulness, it irked Sonic, oh so badly. 

Now maybe he'd have been flailed alive for that back then, but following the village's rules was never one of his strong suit, close relationships might not have been allowed, but he'd be doomed if he didn't just stand next to Flash for a second more. Maybe that was why he had the other's face in his hands, their lips pressing against each other in a kiss that was clumsy and inexperienced. He stole a gasp out of the other, the skin under his hands growing warmer by the second, the other's hands unsure of where to land just yet. Sonic forgot both had to breath, choking on the desperate emotions, as if he would die if he let go. A pair of hands hovering, landing on his forearms, gently traveling up to his shoulders, the surprise wearing out. 

Suddenly, roughly, Sonic separated them both, gasping for air, and before letting Flash speak, he went back to kissing him, as desperately, pressing, halfway knocking, the other's back against the wall. Pulling back again slightly for air, Flash chased him back, brought him back in, his hands finding their way in the back of his neck, tips of the fingers interlacing with his hair. Their bodies clashed awkwardly, it was clumsy, it was obviously kissing done by two people who only heard tale of what that was like, yet at that moment, it was the closest form of contact Sonic ever experienced, and for a half baked decision, there's nobody else he'd ever wish to fo this with but the one clinging onto him. No they'd never be friends, but Sonic would never let him go. Everything, and everyone else could be damned. The kiss broke again, as they were getting the precious air back into their lungs that they stole from each other, he got a good look at Flash; flushed red, making an expression, clearly readable, that was a mix of a sort of confusion and longing, still trying to gain his breath back. Something he could not have imagined painted on the ninja's face even in his wildest desires of a perfect life with him, back then. Truly, he felt as if the heat beneath his skin was never truly gonna go away anytime soon. Both of their bodies, still, ungracefully ,close and linked together, hands resting behind a neck to react to the hands holding his face in place, legs incredibly close, almost oddly placed. Both of their composure, a facade crafted, in an incredibly painful manner, over time since they were so young, gone in such a little amount of time, and nowhere ready to be regained.  

“So... what was that for?” Flash blurted out, in a very low voice, perhaps to conserve the quiet nature of the intimity they shared. Sonic didn't answer him right away, continuing to stare at his face, maybe he didn't have a decent enough answer to satisfy the other, maybe he just wanted to drown in the blue of his eyes. The other did not insist with his question, sighing gently. 

Moving his hands from where they rested, brushing against the other's jaw, taking in them the ones in the back of his neck, bringing them down in between them, silently. 

“Is that it?” 

“What do you mean?”

Hushered voiced, he could see a new wave of embarrassment making its way onto the other's face. Something he never expected to see so much of in so little time. 

“...This.”

Sonic mulled over answer options. Was this moment of weakness something good in the long term? He didn't expect anything more than to gain back what he had with Flash, for all he knew, neither of them would make for good lovers. It wasn't as if they'd know better, or could form greater standards anyways, another voice in his head told him. He thought again, wouldn't it be nice to get to appreciate this perspective on the other man, the softer expressions, the uncharacteristic vulnerability… To get to be close to him, express things he never could and never would be able to ever again. They'd never be friends, and sure, he still had desires to watch him bleed out after carving his heart out and having it for lunch, but the kisses could be a nice bonus to a mundane, blood filled existence. Sure he was an assassin, and the other a hero alongside it, but for as much as he despised heroes, the lack of any greater justice motives in the other comforted him in a way. 

“No. Not unless you want this to be it.”

The embarrassment getting walled behind the usual facade of some sort of cold confidence he had, despite it being still noticeable to Sonic, and the facade being oddly warm for his usual demeanor. 

“No. ”

Bringing the hands up to his lips, Sonic mumbled.

“Guess that's settled then.”

Without getting an answer, he continued.

“Don't think you're off the hook.”

He got the other to chuckle again, making his cheeks redden once more.

“Of course not.”

He scoffed at him, hiding his face in the hands he held up. He'd surely regret this at some point, perhaps it wasn't good entrusting his heart to the other again, but for all the skills he possessed, he'd let the irrational part of his mind have the last word. Both of the pairs of hands lowering, Flash put their foreheads together, lightly, not saying anything but still seeming happy.  

“You're awfully sweet now…”

Leaning back, before Sonic chased him back, he replied;

“...sorry.”

“No. Don't be sorry for that. It's just weird.” 

“Mh.”

“Come on” 

They were so close, physically, but leaning back a bit, he looked just outside the window, the sun bright.

“Mh?”

“Want lunch or not?”

They've been eating more often than they usually did, and were taught to, maybe it was also part of the deconstructions Sonic wanted. Part of some sort of healing.

“Sure. What would we make?”

He thought about the question, now they had their life ahead of them, it wasn't good, but certainly they were on the road of getting better, they were in the same boat anyways. The association would come for them soon enough anyways, if they had lunch now, he'd surely have time to take care of Flash's bandages, and probably steal another kiss or two. And for all the violence left over in his soul, he smiled, looking at the other, before landing on his choice;

“What about some stew?”