Chapter Text
The sun had long since set. How long had he been standing here? Tails couldn't really remember, but the sympathetic squeeze Amy left on his shoulder– gently telling him to get home safe– had long since faded.
His knees felt like they were about to buckle–but that wasn't new in the past few days. His soft honey locks were starting to grow dull, and he wanted to rip at his own fur from how uneasy he felt in his own skin. His tails hung limp behind him, feeling just a little too heavy to lift. Not from exhaustion, though– rather from the weight of everything else.
He glanced back up at the nearby trail leading up, spitting through tall trees. Imposing and looking like they would close in on anyone who dared to take the path. There was an odd kind of comfort in that. It was an awfully gloomy day for the summer– as if the universe was mocking him. He brought a stiff hand up to his face and rubbed his eye, sighing and letting shoulders slump.
The dark circles under his eyes were probably more evident than ever. Not like it mattered– nothing seemed to matter lately. He gripped his arms, fingertips still holding faint ink marks, curled into the familiar worn leather of his jacket as he locked his gaze back onto the ground.
His train of thought was cut off when a drop of water hit the ground he was staring at, then another, and another– he should probably get home.
Forcing his feet to move (ignoring the dull ache spreading through them from standing still for too long), he started his walk home. It quickly turned into a jog, though, when the sheets of rain started falling faster and he had to stop dragging his feet.
His feet padded against the wet concrete before he finally skidded to a stop in front of the front door. Eugh his socks were half soaked…
The door closed softly with a click that felt too gentle behind him as Tails let himself slump back into it. The smell of home hit like a slap he couldn’t quite register. The house was quiet– too quiet. The kind that felt deliberately placed there to strip him of any comfort he had left.
He leaned forward after catching his breath, pushing himself up off the famiiiliar dark wood. He didn't bother with his usual organised composure as he kicked his wet boots off and peeled off his jacket. His fingers lingered over the hickory leather for a moment. Just one, the only one he was willing to spare himself, before he let that drop onto the floor too.
The floorboards creaked beneath his weary form. He walked right past the kitchen, (the meals Amy had been dropping off with a soft smile still all tucked into the back of the fridge, since he didn't have the heart to deny them). He paused in front of a familiar weathered door, peeling paint at the corners and the handle cold to the touch and discolored from years of use.
Tails barely contained a flinch at the way the hinges screamed, and it creaked open, almost echoing through the empty, dimly lit hall when he pushed it slowly (as if he didn't already know what lay beyond).
The floorboards groaned as he shuffled inside. The room was untouched, as if frozen in time. Socks on the floor, unmade bed tucked in a corner, half empty energy drink on the desk, laundry piled into a corner that… he had been promised would be gone by Sunday. Sunday had come and went. And for once, it wasn't still there because of laziness.
Tails felt an almost tired laugh bubble up in his throat. He stumbled in further before finally letting the shiver he had been suppressing slip. His tails were wet and probably more than a little grimy. He reached for the towel on the ground and wiped himself down with it. Not much, not for too long– as if it would erase a memory if he did.
He let it slip out of his hands again, his heavy eyes landing on the unmade bed again. He trudged forward, reaching out and feeling the blanket half-hazardly pushed to one side and the still-crumpled sheets that felt cold to the touch. The coolness was what felt like the last nail in the coffin.
Tails pulled his hand back before flopping face-first into the mattress, fingers curling into the sheets like a puppet being cut loose from its strings. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he curled further into himself, pulling his knees closer to his chest.
The sound of rain pattering outside was starting to lull the fox into a false sense of security. He pushed the side of his face deeper into the pillow– as if he tried hard enough, he could still smell his scent. He flinched hard when thunder inevitably rang outside, shuddering as he curled tighter into himself, hands pulling the edge of the blanket closer to his chest.
Sonic wouldn't have flinched. Of course he wouldn't have. He was the one groggily lifting his arm up, no questions asked, when Tails would pad into his room in the middle of the night, pillow clutched tight to the fox's chest, before the younger boy tucked himself into the spot opened up for him, the sheets still warm, when trees leaned in the harsh wind and downpour.
If Tails squeezed his eyes hard enough, and just for a second put his mind to it, maybe– just maybe— he could still remember the familiar warm weight of an arm over his shoulder. The kind that felt unshakeable in the most comforting way possible.
The fox eventually let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, tension slipping like a noose finally relenting as he sunk deeper into the mattress. The weight of everything seemed to hit at once. Tails felt tired. So tired. The coffee was definitely finally crashing through his system. His eyes felt puffy and anchored down. If he attempted to do something as simple as roll over, he doubted he'd be able to.
Maybe, a couple minutes… just a few. His eyes were getting harder and harder to open, pauses between blinks growing longer. He could figure everything out later.
“Sonic…” It slipped out of his mouth as a whisper, but feeling more like a prayer– a hopeful, pleading one.