Chapter Text
Sonic had always been an expert at navigating the chaotic jungle of the internet. Whether it was worshipful fan art, questionable memes, or relentless hate comments typed out with the fury of a thousand over-caffeinated trolls, he handled it all with the finesse of a seasoned acrobat. Praise? He smirked and took a bow. Jokes? He either laughed along or fired back with a quip so dry it could’ve been sandpaper. As for the full-blown hate? That was his favorite.
Nothing delighted him more than seeing people waste their precious time constructing elaborate rants about how insufferable he was, only for him to respond with a casual “Cool story, bro” before continuing to live rent-free in their heads. Sometimes, he’d throw in a sarcastic “Wow, I’ll definitely lose sleep over that one,” just for the drama. Other times, he let the magic of silence do its thing—because nothing frustrated an internet warrior more than the realization that their angry words were nothing more than a whisper in the wind.
No matter how ridiculous, aggressive, or downright absurd the discourse around him became, Sonic never let them see him sweat. Mostly because he didn’t sweat. He was too fast, too smug, and frankly too busy enjoying life to care. If someone really thought a few keyboard strokes could shake him, they clearly hadn’t met him.
Except for one person.
A user named EclipseX had made it their life’s mission to hate Sonic. And not in the casual, "Eh, he’s not my favorite" kind of way—no, this was dedicated, full-time-employment levels of commitment. If there were a degree in Sonic slander, EclipseX would have earned it with honors.
Their posts were relentless. Entire threads dissecting Sonic’s career choices with the scrutiny of a conspiracy theorist unraveling a government cover-up. His performances? "Overrated hype from people who can’t tell skill from sheer luck." His interviews? "Cringe, self-indulgent nonsense. Who told him he was funny?" His social media presence? "Peak narcissism. He posts like a guy who stares at himself in the mirror for fun."
It didn’t stop there. If Sonic so much as breathed online, EclipseX had something to say.
A casual picture of his shoes? "Wow. Basic. Just like your personality."
A post about a charity campaign? "Oh great, performative activism. You want a medal?"
Even his fan interactions weren’t safe. If Sonic responded to someone with a joke, EclipseX would quote-tweet it with something like, "Imagine thinking this is witty. The bar is underground."
At first, Sonic ignored it. Then, he found it funny.
Because, honestly? EclipseX’s level of commitment was impressive. There was a kind of poetic irony in how much time and energy they spent on someone they supposedly couldn’t stand. Sonic wasn’t sure whether it was hatred or a bizarre, obsessive admiration wearing a mask. Either way, he had to respect the hustle.
Then, it started getting weird.
Sonic had dealt with haters before—some were angry, some were petty, and some were just plain unhinged—but EclipseX was something else entirely. They weren’t just a critic; they were a full-fledged archenemy.
Posted a picture of a chili dog? "Congratulations, you have the diet of a raccoon in a dumpster."
Shared a workout clip? "Overcompensating much? Trying to distract us from the fact that your last ‘victory’ was a fluke?"
Even his silence wasn’t safe. If he went a few days without posting, EclipseX would be in the comments of his last tweet, stirring the pot. "Guess even Sonic can’t outrun irrelevance."
At first, Sonic had done what he always did—shrugged it off, maybe even chuckled at the sheer audacity. But as time went on, he found himself almost... entertained. EclipseX’s obsession was so thorough, so meticulously crafted, that Sonic started to wonder if this was even hate at all. No one put in this much effort unless they cared. Deeply.
It became a game. Sonic would post something deliberately mundane—maybe a picture of him lounging on a beach, looking smug as ever—just to see how quickly EclipseX would descend upon it like a storm cloud fueled by caffeine and unresolved emotions. And sure enough, like clockwork:
"Wow. Must be nice having so much free time while the rest of us actually contribute to society."
Sonic smirked at the screen.
Oh, this was fun.
So one day, Sonic did something he never did before. He replied.
@SonicOfficial: Dude, do you have a Google alert on my name? Be honest.
It was meant to be a joke. A quick, offhand comment that he tossed out for a laugh. Something to show he noticed the absurdity of it all but wasn’t bothered. He didn’t think much of it—just a little fun at the expense of someone who had clearly made it their personal mission to roast him.
But EclipseX? They took it personally.
And that, right there, was the spark. The internet exploded in response. Fans flooded the thread, some rallying behind Sonic, calling out EclipseX for their one-sided crusade. Others, however, loved the drama and cheered on EclipseX for “winning” a response from the blue blur himself.
EclipseX, ever the drama queen, took it as a badge of honor.
@EclipseX: Wow, imagine being so fragile you need to reply to criticism. Pathetic.
Sonic just laughed. It was funny, in a way. The level of investment EclipseX had in hating him was impressive, even if it was a bit sad.
From then on, EclipseX’s comments became almost… expected.
If Sonic dropped a new project? EclipseX had something to say. "Another cash grab. Same tired formula."
If he went to an event? EclipseX was there, lurking, finding a way to mock it. "Cool, you showed up to be the center of attention. How original."
And Sonic? Well, Sonic started having fun with it.
When EclipseX called his new film "a waste of two hours," he quote-tweeted it with a cheeky smirk:
"Two hours? Damn, you actually watched the whole thing? Love the support, man."
It was a playful jab—totally lighthearted, but it was a little too on the nose. EclipseX couldn’t help but retweet it with something like, "Oh, you’re funny now? Keep it up, clown."
When EclipseX complained that Sonic’s style was "lazy and predictable," Sonic replied with a poll, clearly reveling in the back-and-forth:
"Should I dress the way EclipseX wants? Yes / No, keep suffering."
The options were simple, but the tone was unmistakable. It was ridiculous, absurd, and a bit childish—but that was the point. Sonic wasn’t angry anymore; he was playing the game, and he was having fun doing it.
There was something almost satisfying in getting a rise out of someone who lived to bring him down.
Sonic had always been good at letting things roll off his back. He was used to criticism, to people who didn’t get him or didn’t like him—that was just part of the gig. But there was something about EclipseX’s unwavering commitment to the craft of hating him that was just too funny to ignore. It wasn’t just that they hated him—it was the passion. The relentless energy. Every post, every snarky remark, every comment—it was as if EclipseX had devoted their entire online persona to roasting him.
And now? Now it was part of the routine.
Anytime Sonic posted something, he knew EclipseX would be lurking somewhere in the shadows, ready to pounce with their brand of scathing commentary like a dramatic movie villain who had nothing better to do than obsessively follow him. It was like clockwork. And honestly? Sonic started looking forward to it.
So, he leaned in.
If EclipseX accused him of being narcissistic? Sonic would reply with a wink and a cheeky, "Finally, someone gets it! Took you long enough."
If EclipseX called one of his wins "overrated"? Sonic would hit back with a smirk: "I know, right? And yet, here I am, still winning. Wild."
It didn’t take long for Sonic’s fans to catch on to the routine. Soon, his replies were flooded with people treating EclipseX like some kind of chaotic, unwanted sidekick. Every time EclipseX dropped a bitter comment, fans would swoop in like a swarm of bees, teasing and taunting with memes and inside jokes. The memes? Relentless. One person even photoshopped a picture of EclipseX as Sonic’s shadowy arch-nemesis, complete with a dark cape and glowing red eyes. It was pure gold. Sonic? He may have made it his phone wallpaper for a week.
And, of course, EclipseX hated it. Or at least, they pretended to.
“Oh great, so now I’m a joke to you?” they snapped after Sonic posted a particularly snarky reply.
Sonic grinned at the screen, fingers hovering over the keys. "Dude, you’ve been roasting me like it’s your full-time job. I figured it was only fair to start paying attention to my number-one fan."
The internet lost its mind. Fans erupted in laughter, some even calling for EclipseX to “come back” from their hiatus, which they took in stride with all the melodrama one would expect from a dedicated hater. EclipseX rage-quit for a full 24 hours—a lifetime in online drama time—before returning with an even more aggressive level of dedication, cranking the sass up to 11.
Sonic, meanwhile, just sat back with his arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold like it was the best show on Mobian television. He might’ve even leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face, enjoying the spectacle.
And if, sometimes, he found himself checking for other’s comments just a little too quickly after posting?
Well. That was nobody’s business but his own.
Then came the day EclipseX vanished.
No tweets. No replies. No snarky comments. Nothing. The usual barrage of passive-aggressive jabs was gone. Fans noticed, of course. They were quick to ask what had happened to their favorite online villain. Even Sonic—who absolutely should not have cared—felt something weird stirring in the absence. It was… off.
Sonic had gotten used to the back-and-forth, to the banter. To the weird dynamic between him and EclipseX. But now? The silence felt strange. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving nothing but the void where their commentary used to be.
Then, just as the unease started to settle in, a DM popped up.
Snarky McSnarkface:
Bet you didn’t even notice, but I’m at your stupid meet-and-greet.
Just to prove your fans are as delusional as you.
Sonic stared at the message, his fingers hovering over his phone. His mind briefly registered the absurdity of it all. They’re here?
He glanced up at the crowd in front of him. It was a sea of faces, all eager, all waiting. Somewhere in that mass, EclipseX was lurking—possibly right in front of him, hiding in plain sight. The realization hit him like a cold splash of water.
And for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t laughing.
He took a breath, stood tall, and picked up the mic. A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but this time there was something else beneath it—a strange mix of anticipation and challenge.
“Alright, y’know what? Shoutout to my biggest hater, for finally showing up in person. Guess I really do live in your head rent-free.”
The reaction was instant.
The moment Sonic dropped that line, the crowd erupted into laughter. Fans cheered, their excitement buzzing through the air like an electric charge. It was exactly the kind of moment they had all been waiting for—Sonic, the quick-witted, unstoppable force, turning the tables yet again. The energy was infectious. Cameras flashed. Phones raised. The whole room felt alive with the sound of people relishing the moment, caught up in the thrill of the spectacle.
And of course, social media exploded.
Within minutes, #RentFree was trending everywhere. Tweets flew in from all corners of the internet. Memes started cropping up—one with an image of Sonic casually leaning back in a chair, feet propped up, the words “Living in EclipseX’s head, rent-free” emblazoned on it. Another had Sonic’s face photoshopped onto a throne made of tweets, surrounded by a pile of EclipseX’s bitter comments.
But all that time, green eyes were scanning the crowd. He wasn’t looking for the usual sea of smiling faces or the standard fanboy selfies. No, he was looking for one person.
Somewhere in the crowd, EclipseX was there. Sonic could feel it, like a magnetic pull, a tension building in the air. EclipseX had been lurking for so long, always just behind the screen, always the shadow in the background of his online life. Now, they were here. And it wasn’t just a game anymore. It was real.
Sonic’s smirk deepened. He didn’t need to know exactly where EclipseX was. He could almost sense the simmering frustration in their posture, the way they were no doubt trying to blend in, to disappear. It was almost laughable.
And oh, he couldn’t wait to see their face.
Sonic grinned as he leaned casually against the table, signing posters and shaking hands, but his mind? His mind was somewhere else entirely. He could feel it—the quiet storm building just beneath the surface. The kind of fury that only came from someone who’d spent months, maybe even years, hiding behind their screen, throwing punches from the shadows, only to be dragged into the light. The kind of person who, for once, had to face the very thing they’d been throwing hate at.
And Sonic? He had never wanted to see someone’s face more in his life.
The line of fans moved forward, one eager face after another. Sonic did his thing, flashing smiles, signing posters, posing for pictures. But each time, his eyes flicked up, scanning the crowd, searching. Would it be the tall guy with the arms crossed? The girl in the back with the ‘Team Sonic’ shirt, who was probably a little too smug for her own good?
But then, near the middle of the line, he saw them.
There they were. The unmistakable figure standing stiffly, arms crossed so tight they looked ready to snap. Their gaze wasn’t on Sonic—it was through him, like he’d personally ruined their life in some way only they could understand. It was the same look they’d been giving him through the screen for months—only now, it was real, in flesh and blood.
Dressed head to toe in dark colors, like they’d walked straight out of an underground lair, they were almost too perfect a match for the image Sonic had built of them in his head. Everything about their presence screamed, “I’d rather be anywhere else.”
And the expression on their face? It could have killed.
Bingo.
Sonic felt his heart pick up a little as his grin grew wider, more playful. It wasn’t just that he’d found them. No, it was that the game had just shifted, and now, the hunter had become the hunted. He could almost feel the air between them crackling with tension, and oh, he couldn’t wait to see how this would play out.
“Well, well, well.” he folded his arms, leaning back slightly and tilting his head with a smirk. "Didn’t think you’d actually show up, EclipseX."
The person—black hedgehog, he noticed after a second—flinched. Their red eyes widened, just a flicker of surprise flashing before they quickly masked it with a scowl, like they were trying to regain control of the situation. "Wow. Guess you really do have an ego the size of a planet," they shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Sonic chuckled, leaning in a bit, enjoying the sting of their words more than he probably should have. "What can I say? You’ve been giving me free press for months. Feels like I should be paying you for promo."
EclipseX huffed, rolling their eyes, the motion exaggerated. "Please. I’m just here to prove a point."
“Oh yeah?” Sonic’s grin widened as he placed his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. "And what’s that? That you’re secretly my biggest fan?"
The glare they shot him was so intense it could’ve melted steel. Sonic almost felt the heat of it, but he wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not after all this. "Absolutely not," EclipseX growled, their voice barely above a whisper but full of venom.
But then, just as they crossed their arms tighter—like they were trying to armor themselves against other’s teasing—Sonic noticed it. Their hands were shaking. Just slightly. Enough for him to catch it, even in the low light of the event room. The twitching, the tremble, like they were on the edge of losing control.
Interesting.
Sonic’s grin didn’t fade, but it did sharpen. So you’re not as calm as you pretend to be, huh? He kept his voice light, teasing, like this was just another game. "Guess you’ve got a lot of pent-up energy, huh? All that hate has to go somewhere."
EclipseX stiffened at the remark, their jaw tightening. But Sonic could see it now, the cracks in the armor. He was getting to them. And that, in itself, was just too good to ignore.
His smirk never wavered as he grabbed a poster and swiftly scribbled something on it, the pen moving with practiced ease. He slid it across the table toward EclipseX, the motion casual, like they were just any other fan, but with a hint of something more mischievous lurking beneath. "Here. A little something to commemorate the moment."
EclipseX scoffed, clearly not impressed, but they grabbed the poster anyway. Their eyes flicked down, scanning the signature first, their lips curling into an almost imperceptible sneer. But then—just as quickly—something in their expression shifted. The sneer faltered.
Because instead of just a signature, Sonic had written:
"To my #1 Hater—finally made it to the fan club. Welcome aboard , Grumpy Pants"
The other’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again like they couldn’t decide whether to laugh or snap. But no words came. The air around them seemed to freeze for a second, and their face turned a shade of red that was definitely not from embarrassment. It was pure, unfiltered rage—but also... something else.
For the first time ever—maybe in the entire history of the internet—EclipseX was completely, utterly speechless.
Sonic couldn’t help himself; he leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet, satisfied chuckle. "See you in the comments," he said, voice light and playful, like they were still playing the same old game. He was already anticipating the angry, sarcastic reply EclipseX would throw at him—if they even could at this point.
But this time? Nothing came. No retort. No clever quip. No bitter jab. Just silence.
For once, EclipseX had nothing to say.
Sonic flashed a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he noticed the surprise. "Well, now that’s a look I don’t see every day," he teased, straightening up and tossing a playful salute. "Catch ya later!" His voice was full of that easy confidence, a wink following his words as he turned to the next fan.
As EclipseX stood there, still holding the poster like it might bite them, Sonic had no idea what they were thinking. But one thing was certain: this had just turned into his favorite game yet.
***
For the first time in their long, antagonistic history, EclipseX—real name Shadow (yeah, ironic as hell)—walked away without a single comeback. The sting of defeat was sharp, almost unbearable, as he shoved the poster into his bag, the edges crinkling under his grasp. He moved through the crowd like a shadow, slipping past people who remained blissfully unaware of the inner storm boiling beneath his calm exterior.
This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.
Shadow's fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar heat of frustration spread through his chest, igniting the same bitter fire he’d carried for months. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t the grand showdown he had imagined in his mind—the one where he’d finally tear fool down, expose him for the arrogant, self-absorbed narcissist Shadow had always believed him to be. The perfect retaliation, the perfect takedown.
Instead?
Instead, he was left standing there, holding the poster like some kind of pathetic, meaningless keepsake. The signature, that goddamn welcome aboard line, was seared into his mind, an unwanted brand that burned hotter with each passing moment. How had he let idiot get the last word? How had he allowed the cocky hedgehog—the guy he hated—to make him feel so... defeated?
Shadow gritted his teeth, pushing harder through the throngs of people, his pace quickening, as if the faster he moved, the farther he could distance himself from the humiliating moment. The distant hum of laughter and cheers felt like a mocking echo against his rage. The crowd was still oblivious to the tension in the air, caught up in the afterglow of whatever just happened, but Shadow could feel their stares, their judgment, their whispers just behind him. It was almost like they knew.
But he didn’t care.
He just needed to get out. To escape the electric buzz of defeat and the gnawing sense of inadequacy clawing at his thoughts. He had come for a fight—had crafted the perfect plan. But Sonic? He had dismantled it all with a simple gesture, a playful comment that had shattered the walls Shadow had spent so long building around his own sense of superiority.
His chest tightened, and the thoughts churned faster, relentlessly. How the hell had he let this happen?
The exit was only a few steps away, but it might as well have been miles. Each movement felt like a slog, the weight of words pressing down on him, echoing relentlessly in his head. Welcome aboard. The phrase looped like a broken record, an irritating, maddening tune that refused to let go.
Damn it, why was it so hard to just ignore him? To return to the bitter, familiar routine of hatred that he’d spent so long perfecting? It was supposed to be simple—hate a narcissistic fool, tear him down, never question it. But the walls he'd carefully built over the years felt fragile now, cracking with every mental replay of Sonic’s smug expression, the damn glint in his eyes as he’d signed the poster.
Shadow didn't even realize he'd made it outside until the cool air hit his face, the sudden shift in temperature a sharp contrast to the suffocating tension still coiling tight in his chest. The breath he took was deep—almost painful—as he tried to ground himself, trying to force the heat in his cheeks to dissipate, trying to shake off the feeling of being off-balance, out of control.
But no matter how many breaths he took, no matter how many times he told himself to breathe, to focus, the gnawing sense that something had shifted wouldn’t leave.
It wasn’t just that Sonic had won. It wasn’t just the defeat, the bitterness of being bested in a way he hadn’t planned for. No, this was something deeper, something more insidious. Shadow hated to admit it, but idiot had made him feel—Seen.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Shadow had walked in with a mask of indifference, fully convinced he was the one in control, the one who could tear down stupid hedgehog in front of his fans, expose him as the arrogant, egotistical showoff he believed him to be. But instead, he’d found himself unmasked, stripped of his armor, standing vulnerable in front of the one person who could break through it all.
And that, more than anything, pissed him off.
He had worked so damn hard to build that armor. To keep his distance. To make sure no one, especially not Sonic, could ever get close enough to crack it.
Shadow reached into his bag, his fingers brushing the edges of the poster as he pulled out his phone, the flicker of anticipation already rising in his chest. He had expected to find the inevitable comments flooding in. I can’t believe this smug blue bastard just—
But as he unlocked the phone, his gaze flickered back to the poster. The signature was still fresh in his mind—the clean, bold script—"To my #1 Hater"
He stared at it for a long moment, an unsettling feeling gnawing at him. Was it a joke? A sarcastic jab, like everything else Sonic did? Or was there something else behind it?
Shadow shook his head, his fingers tightening around the phone. No. He couldn’t afford to start questioning himself now. Not after everything he’d been through to get to this point, not after how hard he’d fought to stay detached, to keep his disdain for Sonic alive.
But deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, a nagging thought began to form. It was one he had no interest in exploring. He didn’t want to give it life, didn’t want to entertain it for even a second.
But what if... What if Sonic had actually... won?
***
That should have been the end of it. Shadow could have ignored it. Let it go. Maybe deleted his account, thrown the whole thing in the trash, and moved on with his life. But no.
Because people wouldn’t shut up about it.
The comments flooded in like a tidal wave, relentless and unforgiving. Sonic’s fans, of course, found every possible way to laugh at his expense. "Look at this guy, mad about getting an autograph. What a joke." "Sonic can’t be touched. Even his haters love him!" They roasted him with every post, every tweet, every meme they churned out.
And then, just to make it worse, Shadow's own followers jumped on the bandwagon. They hadn’t even cared about him that much before, but suddenly, they were all in on it. Jokes at his expense flooded his notifications, the cracks in his pride growing wider with each one. "You showed up for the drama and got burned, huh?" "Who would’ve thought? EclipseX’s biggest fan is himself."
Edits of that stupid poster popped up everywhere—each one more mocking than the last. One of them had even printed the damn thing and framed it, as if to commemorate Shadow’s moment of utter humiliation. People were sharing it like a trophy, laughing all the while.
The worst part? The one thing Shadow could never have prepared for? Sonic kept poking the bear.
It was one thing to ignore the memes, to block out the whispers, to try and power through the ridicule. But then, he posted it.
"Told y’all I had fans in all categories."
It was the only comment since that day—the only acknowledgment from Sonic himself. Simple. Casual. Even proud.
It was a dagger in the gut. Stupid fool had managed to turn the whole thing into a damn joke. He’d reduced Shadow to a punchline. And to make it worse, he had somehow managed to own it—to make Shadow’s humiliation part of his own personal brand.
The comment stayed up. People ate it up, too, of course. "True king of the haters!" "Sonic just keeps winning."
Shadow stared at it for far longer than he cared to admit, his grip tightening on his phone, the heat of frustration threatening to rise again. There was no escaping it now. Every corner of the internet seemed to echo with Sonic’s victory. And as much as he hated to admit it, it felt like he was trapped in a game he didn’t even know the rules to.
Every few days, Sonic would drop another comment, another joke, a reference—sometimes subtle, sometimes so glaringly obvious that even the most oblivious person would catch it.
Shadow saw the latest notification while sipping on his coffee, the warm liquid barely touching his lips before he nearly choked. It was simple, as usual. "Guess who’s back at it again?😂" with a picture of himself in front of a new event, looking as smug as ever. But the caption underneath—"Haters make me famous"—was a little too familiar.
It was like fool was taunting him, playing the game like it was his favorite sport. And damn it, Shadow couldn’t ignore it. He tried. He really did. He tried to sip his coffee, to move on, to forget how much it bothered him. But the comment gnawed at him. The little taunt, the smug confidence—it never stopped.
And just like that, Shadow lost.
Because no matter what he did—reply, ignore, post something else—Sonic always won.
Every time Sonic took the spotlight, no matter how many times Shadow tried to step out of it, Sonic turned it into a joke. He took whatever Shadow threw at him and spun it, made it his own, turned Shadow’s attempts to undermine him into a source of amusement for everyone else. It was maddening.
Shadow’s phone buzzed again. Another meme. Another edit. Another taunt. His finger hovered over the screen for a moment, but he didn’t respond. What was the point? What was the point of trying to fight back when Sonic had mastered the art of turning every attack into a win?
And yet, as the bitterness twisted in his gut, Shadow hated him for it. Hated the fact that lucky idiot always won. Always made it look easy. Sonic had the kind of power that Shadow couldn’t fight, no matter how many arguments, how many insults, how many snarky comments he threw into the ring. Sonic always found a way to make it seem like Shadow was the one being ridiculous.
...Right?
It should have been simple—just hate him. Shadow was supposed to despise him. He always had. But now, with every post, with every joke Sonic made, it felt like a line was blurring. Sonic’s stupid charisma, his never-ending energy, the way he could make everyone laugh—including Shadow himself—irked him in a way he didn’t want to admit.
So, did he hate him? Or did he... need him?
It was a question Shadow had no answer to. At least, not yet.