Chapter Text
Green Hills new band: Chaos Bloom.
For every finished song, the band celebrated. It wasn’t a quiet dinner or a chat over drinks. No, that was for other people. Theirs was different. It was wild. Messy. Real.
Amy Rose knew this very well.
She looked at her glass empty again and could barely remember when she drank it. She knew she should stop. If she wanted to finish the damn album and write at least three more songs to play at some bar or café, she couldn’t afford to wake up with her head exploding. But whatever. Tonight, she wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. Much less about this moment.
The bass still thumping through the speaker connected to the computer echoed in her chest. The music was so loud it almost hurt. The lights in Silver’s old garage were off, except for a few poorly stuck LED strips now tinting everything purple. The air was thick, heavy with the smell of sweat, stale beer, cheap cigarettes, and hot cables. Dense, familiar, almost comforting.
She danced without thinking, her body hot with sweat and her muscles tired but alive. Shadow’s guitar solo cut through her raw, sharp. Knuckles’ drums pounded like a frantic heart. And Amy loved it. She loved this madness.
She shook her head like trying to shake off the world. Silver followed her, dancing just as loose, just as dirty. Tails shouted something she didn’t understand, but she felt it. Amy slid to the floor, sticky with spilled beer, then jumped up and grabbed Tails’ hands. They jumped like their bodies didn’t hurt.
She thought she saw Knuckles and Shadow still pretending to play, eyes closed, feeling the melody in their bodies.
Sonic was leaning against a wall, with his fierce grin and a half warm beer in his hand, tapping his foot to the beat. Amy saw him and, without thinking, pulled Tails toward him. The three grabbed hands and danced. They pushed each other, laughed, got lost.
The song ended.
Silence. Heavy breathing. Amy looked around for him.
Sonic was staring at her, eyes glowing, taking in her appearance. Amy felt her body heat wasn’t just from the dancing.
They smiled at each other wild, overflowing, alive.
"From now on, this is the worst song on the album!" he shouted.
And everyone screamed. Howled. Laughed like crazy.
"Who is Amy Rose?"
3AM. Amy isn’t tired at all; the euphoria of having finished a song seems impossible for her brain to process. Later that night, the band decided to head home before the alcohol got the better of them. Everyone sensibly agreed to this except her and Sonic. They were at his old apartment, both “over demanding” with their work as the band’s lead vocalists and primary lyric writers. They decided to keep going until their fingers or heads burned out.
She knew it was a lie.
They’d always struggled to be apart. Since they were kids, Amy liked to write silly little songs in her lined notebook with a colorful bird on the cover simple lyrics about adventures, dreams, and things only a child could imagine. Sonic, with his tiny guitar bigger than him back then would sit on the porch of his mom’s house, trying to come up with melodies to accompany her singing. The memory always fills her with warmth.
When Amy enters, she collapses onto Sonic’s couch with a groan. He looks at her from the doorway, raising an eyebrow.
“Comfortable?” he says, moving toward the kitchen behind the couch.
Amy hums softly as she kicks off her high heeled sandals, tossing them somewhere unknown with her foot.
“Where’s Tails staying tonight?” she asks.
“Oh, he wanted to stay with Silver, you know, to work on the final touches for the last songs.”
She’s known Tails and Sonic since they were kids, so it doesn’t surprise her that Tails didn’t join them he’s grown up a lot and become more independent.
She met them one day on the way to the construction of Vanilla’s bakery after school. It was an abandoned restaurant that, with her few savings, she decided to buy and finally turn into the bakery of her dreams. She always helped out fixing the place painting, decorating, and giving ideas.
Aleena, Sonic’s mother who was a real estate agent and director of one of the most prestigious companies in all of Mobius brought Sonic and Tails that day, saying the boys needed to get out of the house and spend some time working as punishment. Amy remembers, according to her, an explosion Tails caused with Sonic’s help using some of their machine inventions.
Reluctantly, the boys stayed. Amy watched the cobalteyed boy stomping up and down; her heart started beating faster as if he was the bravest, coolest boy in the world.
He was the first to approach her.
“Where’s the paint?”
Amy jumped, blushing.
“Uh… it’s…”
“It’s in the attic of the place, come with me,” Vanilla saved her, softly telling the boys, who immediately started following her.
“Well done, Amy,” she told herself.
Sonic passed by her, sighing, desperate to leave. Tails, who was wearing various tools strapped around his waist some of which looked heavier than him passed by her side and timidly said,
“I’m Tails.”
“Amy,” she said, smiling softly.
They spent the afternoon painting together. Amy didn’t speak much yet but watched them out of the corner of her eye. Sonic seemed to glance at her the same way, wanting to get closer. Finally, he approached and said,
“Sorry if I was an idiot to you before.” he said shyly and, somehow, that made Amy think he looked kind of cute…
“No! Not at all,” Amy replied quickly.
He cut her off, saying,
“Can we start again?.” Then, he raised his hand, introducing himself “I’m Sonic,” he said with a charming smile “and you are…?”
“Amy,” she said, smiling and shaking his hand.
“Great,” said Sonic. “Eh… Nice to meet you.”
When he looked back at her, Amy quickly dropped her gaze… but she couldn’t help smiling, like her heart was tickling.
The three spent the afternoon playing, getting to know each other, laughing, and getting paint everywhere. Amy hadn’t had many friends before; she considered Cream her little sister. Meeting them that day made her feel like she would never be alone again.
Since then, the three have known each other for so long, growing up together and having each other as their only family.
Amy is proud of them.
“I wrote something the other day,” Amy says, returning to the present as she looks around the room. Amy doesn’t know why Sonic hasn’t moved out of this dingy old apartment yet, as if it somehow fits him. The band’s music is taking off, and with it comes money. Not much, of course, but it’s clear he’s still clinging to the last pieces of his independent life from his family that are fading away fast.
Sonic comes back with two glasses of wine, one for each of them, and plops down on the couch beside her. The smell of mint and sweat hits her too close. All Amy can think about are their knees touching. Something in the air feels comfortable, familiar.
“Really?” Sonic says, taking a sip. “A song or just some words to compose?”
Amy smiles a little shyly but doesn’t look away.
“I don’t know. It’s like… something in between. I wasn’t going to show it to you.”
“But you’re going to show me anyway,” he says, taking a long drink. It’s not a question.
Amy sits up on the couch and digs into the backpack she threw on the floor when she came in. She pulls out a folded, worn notebook. Doubt weighs on her fingers, but she tosses it anyway. Sonic catches it effortlessly.
For a moment he says nothing. He reads silently, his eyes scanning every line more carefully than he’ll ever admit aloud.
Amy doesn’t move. She watches him as if his expressions could say what he’s never said with words.
Finally, Sonic lowers the page.
“It’s good,” he murmurs.
Amy barely nods, swallowing the urge to ask if he understood it was about him. About them. About what never happens but is always there.
“We could work on it together,” he says, looking up.
And that’s all she needs for tonight.
Soon after, Sonic has already pulled out his guitar, starting to play and create chords for the song’s lyrics. Sonic only has an idea—a slow guitar melody—but they’ve worked with less before. Amy’s phone simply records a voice note to send later to Tails.
Chaos Bloom: New Single is Gaining Attention
Amy doesn’t know when she started dancing, nor when she began singing at the top of her lungs, but now she can’t stop. The energy running through her veins makes her feel incredibly alive, and the alcohol only amplifies that sensation. Sonic, like never before, seems to be enjoying her company, playing melody after melody.
Every note Sonic plays seems to resonate deeply inside Amy, as if the music completely surrounds her. Could there really be a sound so perfect, so wild, so hers? Eyes closed, body lost in the feeling. Sonic turns up the volume on the old speakers connected to his guitar. He looks at her, and a smile appears on his face, playing with more energy, more enthusiasm. She returns the smile that reaches his eyes.
Suddenly, everything goes black. Silence envelops them as they freeze, not daring to move.
“Shit,” Sonic growls, setting the guitar down with a soft thud.
The power’s out.
Amy blinks, disoriented. She stretches her hands into the darkness until she finds her phone. She turns it on, squinting at the sudden glow.
2% flashes red on the screen.
“You might want to hurry and find something to light up,” she murmurs, raising the flashlight.
They start walking. Amy follows him, pointing the flash upward down the short hallway. Upon entering, she can only make out the messy blue sheets and a simple nightstand. Sonic opens it and pulls out...
“Candles? Seriously?” Amy says, raising an eyebrow, amused.
“Hey… never thought it was necessary… until the power started going out every dawn,” he replies, half shrugging without looking at her.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Amy asks, crossing her arms. “Isn’t that reason enough to, I don’t know... move?”
Sonic raises an eyebrow, tilts his head, and throws her a lazy smile, as if the very idea is absurd.
Amy rolls her eyes.
“Here. Go to the kitchen and find the lighter. I’ll look around here for another.”
“Are you kidding?” he interrupts, shining the flashlight right in her face. Sonic squints, annoyed. “I’ve had enough alcohol to probably burn down the apartment before lighting a candle.”
This time Sonic lets out a long sigh. “Fine, just this one candle then.”
In the kitchen, Sonic finds the lighter and lights the candle. Setting it on the table in front of the sofa, Amy watches as he lights it. The flame flickers and barely casts enough light: his relaxed features, the blue gleam in his eyes, the faint redness on his cheeks from the wine.
Amy says nothing.
She just watches him.
She doesn’t know if she wants the light to come back.
“Well…” Sonic says, putting his hands in his pants pockets as he looks at her with an expression hard to read. “You probably want to leave.”
Amy nods slowly, pressing her lips together. Luckily, she has the spare key to Vanilla’s apartment; she doesn’t want to bother her so late.
“Will we see each other tomorrow?” she asks, almost in a whisper.
Sonic nods. She turns and walks toward the door. He follows silently.
But in the dim light, she doesn’t see the guitar on the floor.
The bump is clumsy, and Amy lets out a strangled gasp as she trips. She closes her eyes, instinctively bracing for the fall.
But it never comes.
A pair of arms catch her just in time.
Sonic’s hands fall easily to her waist, a weight that feels familiar and comforting. Maybe it’s the wine she drank, maybe it’s because his palms burn through her worn white shirt, maybe it’s because she feels safe. Without thinking, Amy wraps her arms around him, swaying from one foot to the other. He watches her, opening his eyes, about to speak but falls silent when he sees the playful smile on her face.
He always used to carry her when they were kids. He’d lift her effortlessly just to tease her, spin her in the air, or make her laugh until she complained. Amy would never admit it out loud, but it was her favorite part.
To be in his arms.
To feel light.
To feel his, if only for a second.
Amy holds her breath when she notices his eyes fix on her mouth. She feels her heart pounding so hard against her chest she’s afraid he might hear it. For a moment, their eyes meet, and she, unable to resist, bites her lips. To her surprise, Sonic does the same. The air in the room seems to vanish, and time stops. Amy had imagined this moment many times, thought about how it would feel, but never dared imagine that it could actually happen… that he wanted it too…
Their noses brush, and the little air left in her lungs seems to escape. Sonic brushes her cheek with the tip of his nose, and Amy feels her heart race. She rises on her tiptoes, and Amy can’t help but think about kissing that lower lip so close, but just then, Amy’s phone rings.
The phone’s sound abruptly cuts the moment. They immediately pull apart, and Amy feels a knot in her stomach, as if the contact vanished and took something important with it. Her mind spins, trying to process what just happened.
Quickly, Sonic grabs the phone from the coffee table and answers before it goes to voicemail.
“Hey,” Sonic replies. “I guess you got the song. Yeah, Amy’s here with me.”
Regaining her composure, Amy responds in a more neutral tone, taking the phone from Sonic.
“Um... what did you think? Yeah, we need to work on it. What do the guys say?”
Sonic watches Amy as she quickly puts her notebook in her backpack.
“We can see about it tomorrow with the guys,” he answers, nodding toward the door and waving vaguely goodbye.
Sonic and Amy front Chaos Bloom Explosive Debut.
The topic is forgotten when they see each other again. Amy stays silent, not because she doesn’t want to talk… but because she fears the answer. Because if she asks, if she dares say it out loud, maybe she’ll realize that Sonic decided he doesn’t want her like that, and it hurts that her heart still clings to a hope that doesn’t exist. She needs to move on. She can’t ruin the band. Not like that. She can’t disappoint them.
Amy loves that band. She needs it. She doesn’t know what she’d do without it. So she never mentions it.
But she can’t help but relive that moment over and over, for days, even weeks. She wonders what would have happened if Tails hadn’t called, if she should be thankful for the interruption or hate it.
Amy would have wished to kiss him.