Chapter Text
The bathroom light buzzed softly overhead, warm and familiar in the quiet lull of the evening. Sonic stood at the sink, toothbrush dangling from his mouth, fur a bit fluffier than usual after his shower. The mirror was a little fogged, but not enough to hide the thoughtful squint he gave his reflection.
His stomach had been off all day—kinda crampy, kinda nauseous. Like he’d eaten too fast at lunch or maybe skipped too much dinner. He blamed it on school stress. Or maybe gym class. Or maybe that one cafeteria chili dog that was suspiciously purple around the edges.
He spat into the sink, rinsed, and made a face. “Blegh,” he muttered, grabbing a towel to pat his face dry. “Tomorrow’s gotta be better.”
Tails’ voice called from down the hall, “You good, Sonic?”
“Yeah!” he called back automatically. “Just bein’ beautiful.”
He didn’t see Tails roll his eyes, but he could feel it through the walls.
Sonic flicked off the light and padded barefoot back to his room, tugging on his oversized hoodie—the one with the faded logo and sleeves long enough to hide his hands. His bed was a tangle of blankets and one (1) sad plush chao, face-down in the pillow. He flopped into it like a dying actor in a drama show, letting out a dramatic groan for no one but himself.
Everything felt off, but not in a panic-y way. Just… weird. Like his skin was too tight, or maybe his body was running on a delay. His thighs ached a little. His lower back was sore. And worst of all? He couldn’t stop sweating.
“Gross,” he whispered into his pillow.
He kicked the blankets off, curled up again, pulled them back over himself, then immediately kicked them off once more.
“…What the heck is wrong with me?”
His hoodie was too warm. His pajama pants were too scratchy. The fan was too loud. The air was too everything.
Maybe he was just tired.
With a low sigh, Sonic curled on his side, pulling his plush chao close under his chin. He closed his eyes, trying to will the weirdness away, trying to ignore the nervous flip-flopping in his belly. A storm was coming—he could feel it, deep in his bones—but he didn’t know just what kind yet.