Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Green Hill had a way of always feeling like the first day of summer.

Even when it wasn't — even when the breeze ran cold or clouds hung lazily over the mountains — the place held a kind of permanent warmth, the kind you could feel in the dirt and the air and the loops themselves. It buzzed gently under your feet when you ran fast enough. It whispered when the wind drifted over the palm trees. Sonic liked to think the whole place was alive in its own way — not loud, not dramatic — just... content. Like it knew it didn’t have anything to prove.

And neither did he.

He was stretched out across a wide stone ledge overlooking the southern ridge, hands tucked behind his head, one leg crossed over the other. He’d found this spot years ago — quiet, shaded, nothing but air and sky and blue. You had to know exactly how to hit the spring under the big clover tree and angle yourself through a narrow break in the ridge wall to even get up here. Which meant most people didn’t. Which meant this was his.

Tails knew about it, of course. So did Amy, once. But they let him keep it.

He yawned and lazily rolled onto his side, resting his cheek against his arm. He could hear the low, rhythmic chirr of a Flicky a few trees down, maybe a Chipmunk or two chattering near a thicket, but otherwise it was quiet.

Well — quiet for now.

A few seconds later, his communicator buzzed.

He didn’t move.

It buzzed again. Louder this time.

He finally groaned and sat up, brushing a few blades of grass from his fur as he flipped the screen open. Amy’s name glowed across the top:

[AMY] hey sleepyhead you’re LATE
[AMY] come down to the village plaza
[AMY] now now nowwwwwwwwwwww
[AMY] tails says if you’re not here in five minutes he’s making you be the test dummy for his newest glider
[AMY] knuckles said that’d be funny
[AMY] i said that’s not funny but also do it

Sonic blinked, stifled another yawn, and grinned. “Five minutes, huh?”

He flicked the communicator shut, stood up, stretched, then crouched.

And then he was off.

The Green Hill village was one of those places that didn’t exist on any real map. It had been pieced together over the years from old platforms, jungle wood, and more trial-and-error engineering than anyone cared to admit. Most of the homes were tucked along the cliffs and high grounds where the zone’s wild loops thinned out into flatter ground. At the center sat a wide open plaza — circular, sun-warmed, always buzzing with chatter and quiet music — and every building around it leaned just slightly in toward the middle, like it was all built on some sleepy tilt.

It was perfect.

By the time Sonic skid into the plaza — wind-swept, leaves in his quills, wearing his usual lopsided grin — most of the group was already there.

Amy was leaned over a snack cart operated by Big the Cat (who was currently too busy quietly petting a sleeping Froggy to actually make change), while Tails sat cross-legged in the shade with a half-eaten bagel and some half-exploded schematics spilling out of his backpack. Cream was perched next to him with Cheese in her lap, holding a smoothie twice her size. Knuckles sat on the edge of the fountain, looking like he wasn’t quite sure why he came but was determined not to be the first one to leave.

“Heyyy, look who made it!” Amy chirped, turning and tossing Sonic a wrapped rice ball. “Tails was about to launch a search party.”

“I was not,” Tails muttered. “I just said I could track him in ten seconds if I needed to.”

“That’s worse,” Sonic laughed, catching the food and flopping down next to him. “Didn’t know I was being hunted today.”

“You’re always being hunted,” Knuckles said flatly, tossing a small pebble into the fountain. “That’s your whole thing.”

“Not today I’m not,” Sonic said, kicking his feet up and stretching like a cat in the sun. “Today’s just a sit-and-snack kinda day.”

“Y’know what,” Tails said, taking another bite of his bagel, “for once… yeah. I’m down for that.”

Sundays in Green Hill had a rhythm to them. Mornings were slow, afternoons were slower, and no one really planned anything unless they were planning to cancel it halfway through. Sometimes there were community games in the sand pits near the old loop ruins, or open-air concerts if Blaze felt like playing piano and Rouge hadn’t picked a fight with the sound system. Other times people just… hung out.

Today was one of those days.

A few students from the outer zones had wandered in — Sonic recognized a girl from the Chemical Plant area, her hair dyed violet and clipped into a neat undercut, chatting with someone who was clearly from the Jungle Zone. Near the old billboard, he spotted Silver balancing on one foot in front of Blaze while she tried not to laugh.

“Bet you twenty rings he falls over,” Sonic murmured to Tails.

“I’m not betting against you. That’s cheating.”

Sure enough, Silver wobbled dramatically, arms windmilling, before Blaze reached out and calmly steadied him with one hand.

Cream giggled behind her drink. “They’re so cute,” she said, then paused when everyone looked at her. “I mean — um, I didn’t — I just—!”

Tails blinked in surprise. “Wait, are they—?”

“No,” Sonic said with a grin. “But they’re gettin’ there.”

Tails looked quietly thoughtful for a moment.

Cream buried her face in her smoothie.

It wasn’t until much later — when most of the plaza had cleared, and the sun had started to dip behind the upper cliffs — that Sonic finally stood and stretched.

“Think I’m gonna run the ridge once before dark,” he said, brushing crumbs from his fur. “Anyone coming?”

“I have lab work,” Tails said immediately.

“You are lab work,” Sonic teased.

Amy yawned. “I’d come, but I’m meeting Rouge at the hot springs.”

Knuckles shrugged. “Already ran this morning.”

Cream simply waved, still curled up with Cheese, half-asleep now.

Sonic grinned and gave them all a two-fingered salute. “Catch ya later, then.”

He was gone in a blur.

Running was second nature — faster than thought, smoother than memory. His body just knew. Each step flowed into the next, every spring landed on instinct. Loops, turns, even crumbling ledges — they were all familiar now. He didn’t need a plan. He just moved.

And when he ran, everything was still. Not literally, of course. The world was rushing past him. But inside — deep down — it was quiet.

It was only when he reached the northern ridge that something finally tugged at him.

A flicker. A shift.

He slowed gradually, dust kicking up behind his heels as he came to a smooth stop atop a steep outcropping. Ahead was a wide expanse of wild grass and stone — no homes, no footpaths, just the faint remnants of old battlegrounds long since reclaimed by nature.

And beyond that — just barely visible near the cliffside edge — was the old bunker.

It wasn’t a real bunker. More like a collapsed base that had never quite been finished. But it had walls, some shape, a roof. And, according to Tails, a surprisingly sturdy comms tower rigged with self-powered circuits.

That was where he lived.

Shadow.

Sonic had only seen him a few times in the past few months — once near the springs, another time at the southern market. He always kept to the edges. Quiet. Polite, but distant. Sometimes (very rarely) he nodded in greeting. Sometimes he just vanished before Sonic could say anything at all.

He’d never made a fuss. Never picked a fight. And somehow, that made it weirder.

Sonic stood there a moment longer, gaze drifting.

He couldn’t even see him now. Just the faint silhouette of the bunker. Probably inside. Probably not even aware Sonic had paused nearby.

Or maybe he was. Shadow was sharp like that.

Sonic clicked his tongue, then turned.

Didn’t matter. He had loops to run.

That night, Green Hill was quiet again.

Lights flickered gently from windows built into tree trunks and platform houses. Tails’ workbench hummed softly through the open door. Amy’s voice echoed faintly from her porch, chatting with Rouge about something or other. Knuckles was probably back at Angel Island by now.

And far on the outskirts of it all, Sonic sat cross-legged at the edge of his favorite ledge again, legs dangling, arms rested on his knees.

He chewed the last bite of a chili dog and looked out across the hills, toward the far cliffs — where the old bunker sat in the dark.

Something about the stillness tonight made it feel further away than usual.

Chapter Text

It was warm again.

Not the sticky kind that made you want to hide under a fan, but the gentle kind — the kind Green Hill was known for. Mornings started with light air and a pale gold sun soaking through the trees. By noon, the ground had warmed up enough to carry that heat into your soles, and every now and then a breeze would blow in from the cliffside like it was passing by just to say hello.

Sonic loved it. Always had.

He jogged through the lower village path with a half-eaten apple in hand, shoes kicking up bits of dust behind him as he moved. He wasn't in a rush today — wasn’t even aiming for a particular destination. Just felt like moving. Letting the air run past his ears, hearing the birds, the far-off sound of water lapping at the river’s edge. It all kind of blurred together in a way that made his chest feel full in the good kind of way.

As he rounded a turn past a vegetable stall, he heard someone call out.

“There he is! Thought I heard you loafing around!”

Amy Rose stood in front of a crooked display table stacked with bright-colored flowers, wearing one of her lighter dresses and a sunhat tilted back behind her quills. She had her arms crossed and a look that was only half serious.

“Hey, I’m not loafing,” Sonic said, tossing his apple core into a compost bin. “I’m cruising. There's a difference.”

“You’ve been cruising since sunrise,” she replied. “Tails said you left the house three hours ago.”

“Gotta make the most of the day.”

Amy rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Come help me carry this bouquet to Rouge’s. She’s got some weird balcony garden thing going on and asked for a delivery.”

“Shouldn’t you be charging for this?”

“I am. You’re my unpaid intern.”

They walked slowly toward the cliffside housing, winding up narrow paths between overgrown stairs and platform walkways. Rouge lived in one of the higher dwellings, a former lookout post that had been repurposed into an unnecessarily fashionable open-air apartment. Getting there meant passing the edge of the residential zone, where things quieted down. Fewer homes, fewer voices. Just breeze, cliff, and sky.

Sonic adjusted the bouquet in his arms — it was bigger than it looked and smelled like six different types of citrus.

“So,” he said, “you talk to her much lately?”

“Rouge?” Amy glanced at him. “More than you do.”

“Hey, I talk to her.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sonic snorted. “We’re just usually shouting from opposite rooftops.”

They reached the stairs and started climbing. Sonic could already hear music playing faintly above — some kind of jazz, low and winding.

Rouge opened the door before they even knocked.

“Took you long enough,” she said, one brow raised. “I was about to call Silver and tell him to float my flowers up with his mind.”

“Would’ve been faster,” Sonic muttered.

Rouge ignored him and turned to Amy. “You’re a gem, sweetheart. I’ll get your payment in a sec.”

She disappeared back inside, music still drifting through the air.

Sonic stood there for a moment, adjusting his footing on the porch as he looked out toward the far cliffs.

He could see the bunker from here.

Still no sign of movement. Still just… there.

He didn’t know why his eyes kept finding it lately.

They left Rouge’s not long after, and Sonic split off again while Amy went back toward the plaza. He didn’t feel like joining the others just yet. Something about the stillness of the cliffs stuck with him.

He ended up walking.

That, in itself, was unusual.

He almost always ran, unless he had a reason not to. But now, for some reason, his feet just… didn’t. He walked the outskirts of the upper ridges, down past the old spring trail where vines had overgrown the loop entrance and the stone rings had started to crumble. It was a peaceful area — wild, untrimmed, untouched by most of the village.

He wasn’t really thinking about where he was going.

Until he saw him.

Shadow.

He was standing not far from the edge of a shallow hill, one hand resting on a broken railing, gaze fixed on something far off — maybe the sea, maybe the sky. His posture was relaxed, but not casual. Still. Intentional. Like he was holding himself in place.

Sonic slowed.

He hadn’t meant to get this close.

He’d seen Shadow around town here and there. They’d even spoken once or twice — but never anything deeper. Shadow never invited it. He didn’t push people away so much as... let the air around him push for him.

And yet here he was. Standing alone. No weapon. No glare. No tension.

Just… standing.

Sonic didn’t call out.

He didn’t move.

He watched.

Shadow turned his head slightly. Just enough to glance over his shoulder. His eyes caught Sonic’s for a fraction of a second — dark, calm, unreadable — before he turned back to the horizon.

And then, without a word, he stepped off the ledge and disappeared down the far slope.

Gone.

Sonic stood there a while longer, not sure why he felt like he’d seen something private — something that hadn’t been meant for him, even if it wasn’t a secret.

He returned to the plaza by midafternoon, but the energy had shifted. Tails was gone — probably back at the lab. Amy and Cream were still chatting on the fountain edge, Cheese hovering gently between them. Knuckles was balancing one of Big’s fishing poles on two fingers, daring it to fall.

“Where’ve you been?” Knuckles asked, not even looking up.

Sonic shrugged. “Walking.”

“...You?”

“Yeah.”

Knuckles gave him a sideways glance but didn’t press it.

Sonic sat down on the warm brick and let the breeze pass over him.

It wasn’t like anything had really happened.

But that glance…

It hadn’t felt like nothing, either.

That evening, after the sun dipped low and the stars blinked to life, Sonic sat alone by the outer ridge trail, not far from the old spring.

He wasn’t waiting for anything. He told himself that, at least.

Just clearing his head. Just breathing. Just being still.

He thought about the way Shadow had stood there — silent, alone, eyes to the sky.

Sonic had always moved through the world with noise. Laughter, wind, footsteps, crashes, cheers. That was who he was.

Shadow, though… Shadow didn’t move like that.

And maybe — just maybe — that was worth noticing.

Chapter Text

The thing about Tails was… he noticed things.

Not always in the way people expected — not because he was nosy, or because he was trying to catch something out of place. He just paid attention. To details. To timing. To tone. When you spent most of your life building machines that depended on the tiniest clicks and pulses working in harmony, it got kind of hard to not notice when something was even a little bit off.

And Sonic — well.

Sonic had been a little off lately.

Not a lot. Not in a way anyone else would’ve caught. He still cracked jokes. Still ran errands. Still crashed face-first into the couch after long days like nothing had changed. But something had. A gear had shifted. And Tails wasn’t sure what it was.

He didn’t push. Not right away.

But he did keep watching. From the corner.

The first thing he noticed was the silence.

Not total silence — Sonic still talked. But there were longer stretches between his comments, like his mind kept pulling him away from the moment and back into something else. At first, Tails figured he was just tired. They’d been helping Blaze manage the loop gardens last week, and the job was more work than it sounded like.

But then it happened again two days later. Sonic stood by the open window at breakfast, toast in one hand, staring at nothing. The kind of staring that didn’t have a reason behind it.

“You good?” Tails had asked.

“Yeah,” Sonic said, blinking like he hadn’t realized he’d zoned out. “Just… thinking.”

That was it. No follow-up. No joke to shake it off.

Just thinking.

Tails had nodded and didn’t ask again. But it sat with him.

They were walking through the east path one afternoon, heading back from the market with a bag of Tails’ favorite engine coils (and a bundle of Amy’s stubbornly pink carrots), when Sonic slowed down near the high ridge trail.

Tails watched as his eyes drifted toward the horizon.

“...You keep looking that way,” Tails said, casually. “What’s over there?”

Sonic blinked. “Hm?”

“That way.” Tails gestured with a nod. “You’ve been glancing off toward the cliffs a lot lately.”

Sonic was quiet for a second too long.

“Just… dunno,” he said finally. “The view, I guess.”

Tails didn’t believe him. Not in a bad way — just in the way you know when someone’s talking around something instead of through it.

He didn’t press.

But that made two gears.

Later that night, Tails was sketching out glider fin models at the kitchen table while Sonic lay stretched across the couch, arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling fan like it might say something to him if he looked long enough.

The breeze outside was calm. The house smelled like fried rice and damp wood from the open windows. Somewhere, a music player buzzed faintly through the wall — probably Cream’s, two doors down.

Sonic let out a soft sigh. Not heavy. Just… thoughtful.

Tails glanced up from his notepad. “You sure you’re not, like… going through a quarter-life crisis or something?”

Sonic’s head tilted toward him lazily. “What?”

“You’re being weird, man.”

“That’s not new.”

“It’s a little new.”

Sonic chuckled, but it was quiet. “I guess I’m just thinking more than usual.”

“About what?”

There was a pause.

And then — “I dunno.”

Tails didn’t push after that. He just nodded and returned to his sketches. But inside, something shifted slightly. Because Sonic always knew what he was thinking about. Even if it was dumb. Even if it was about soup.

So the fact that he didn’t — or wouldn’t say — was new.

And that made three.

A day or two passed. They both stayed busy.

Sonic helped Knuckles with glider pressure tests on the northern cliffs (and broke one in half mid-jump, which he claimed was “awesome”), while Tails worked on recalibrating the weather drones with Cream. Amy had been caught in the middle of a fashion-related argument between Blaze and Rouge — apparently scarves were not seasonally appropriate yet, but Rouge had other opinions — and Silver tried to mediate by suggesting matching gloves, which somehow made it worse.

In short, it was a normal week.

But even then — even with everything going on — Tails still noticed Sonic getting quieter at the edges. Not sad. Not upset. Just… like he was halfway between one thought and the next.

Like he was hearing something no one else could hear.

It wasn’t until Thursday that it clicked.

They were both lounging on the porch roof, feet dangling off the edge, snack bowls balanced between them. It was warm again — not too hot, not too breezy. The kind of weather that made you feel like you had all the time in the world.

Sonic was lying back with one arm over his eyes. Tails chewed a piece of dried mango and studied him.

“Is this about Shadow?” he asked.

Sonic didn’t answer right away.

But the way his foot stilled — that tiny pause in rhythm — told Tails everything.

He sat up a little. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sonic muttered.

“You didn’t have to.”

Sonic sighed and peeled his arm away from his face. His eyes were squinting a little at the sun, but mostly, he just looked caught — not annoyed, not defensive. Just like he’d hoped no one would ask yet.

Tails waited.

Eventually, Sonic sat up.

“I don’t even know, man,” he said. “It’s not like anything happened. I just saw him the other day. Standing out by the cliffs.”

Tails blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

Tails tilted his head. “But something stuck?”

Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess. I dunno. He just… he looked different. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m imagining it. He wasn’t doing anything weird or dramatic. Just standing. Looking out.”

“Was he brooding?”

“Honestly? Not even. He looked kind of… calm.”

“Huh.”

Sonic leaned back again. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

There was a beat of silence. Then:

“You’ve got a crush.”

Sonic choked.

“What?! No, no-no-no, what—?”

“I’m joking,” Tails laughed, tail swishing behind him. “Kind of.”

Sonic made a noise like a deflating balloon and flopped sideways onto the roof.

Tails smiled. “It’s okay, you know. To be curious.”

Sonic peeked at him through one eye. “Even if it’s about the guy who used to threaten to blow up the moon?”

“You did blow up a robot moon once.”

“That was different.”

“Barely.”

Sonic snorted, but the laughter softened him.

“I don’t think it’s like that,” he said after a moment. “I’m not, like, into him or anything. I just… there was something in that moment. Like he was feeling something I didn’t get to see.”

Tails nodded. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Sometimes you just notice something. And once you notice it, it sticks.”

Sonic hummed, then fell quiet again.

And Tails, even though he’d been joking before — even though he didn’t say it now — couldn’t help but wonder if it was the start of something else.

Even if Sonic didn’t see it yet.

That night, Tails stayed up late finishing a wiring diagram.

Sonic had gone quiet again, but in a gentler way. Not like he was hiding. Just… like he was thinking, and letting himself think for once instead of speeding past it.

Tails sat in the soft glow of the desk lamp and made a few notes in the margin of his blueprint, then leaned back and stretched.

He glanced toward the other room — Sonic’s room — where the faintest light still glowed under the door.

And he smiled to himself.

Whatever it was, whatever it became — Sonic would figure it out.

And Tails would be there, watching quietly from the corner, ready when he needed him.

Chapter Text

Green Hill had always been full of space.

Not just the kind you ran through — loops and ridges, cliffs and clearings — but something else. The kind you felt when the wind carried through the trees just right. Or when the trail opened wide beneath the clouds. A kind of space you could breathe in. The kind that reminded you there was no rush, even when you were someone who lived to run.

Sonic knew it well.

And lately, he felt like he was moving through more of it than usual.

He’d started taking different paths.

Not deliberately — or so he told himself — but in little ways. Rerouting a morning loop to swing closer to the north cliffs. Slowing near the edge of the bunker trail without stepping too close. Skipping shortcuts in favor of longer ones that gave him a wider view of the hills.

Maybe he just liked the quiet up there.

Maybe that was all.

That’s what he told himself one afternoon as he stopped near the broken pillar overlook, a place barely anyone used anymore. He kicked a rock off the ledge and watched it tumble down the slope, then leaned back against the old stone.

From here, if he looked across the valley, he could just barely see the tower rig on the edge of the cliffs.

The bunker was tucked against the stone wall behind it — a half-sunken mass of concrete and metal that looked like it belonged to a world long past. Sonic had never seen lights on inside. Never heard anything come from it. And yet...

There were signs of life.

Sometimes the scaffolding shifted. Sometimes the rooftop hatch was left ajar. A few mornings ago, Sonic was almost sure he saw a small solar panel where there hadn’t been one the day before.

Shadow never made a show of being there.

But he was.

And Sonic kept looking.

He didn’t talk about it. Not even to Tails.

Which was weird, because he told Tails just about everything. But this — whatever this was — didn’t feel ready to be words yet.

It wasn’t like he had feelings. Not those kinds of feelings.

He wasn’t daydreaming or writing poems or sneaking love letters under bunker doors. This wasn’t that kind of story. He wasn’t even sure it was a story.

But...

Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he saw the way Shadow had looked that day on the cliff. Calm. Alone. Looking at something Sonic couldn’t see.

And sometimes that made him wonder what else he didn’t see.

The others didn’t notice anything different.

Amy was deep in community board projects — trying to start a “Green Hill Garden Share” and arguing with Knuckles over how many watermelons was “too many watermelons” to bring to a potluck. Rouge had started using the plaza lampposts as makeshift poles for what she called “aerial training,” which was really just an excuse to show off. Blaze had vanished back to her own zone for the week. Silver had, confusingly, gone with her.

Everyone was living their own loops. Which meant Sonic had room to wander.

He found himself outside more. Longer walks. Shorter runs. Pauses where he didn’t need to pause.

One morning, just after sunrise, he spotted Shadow again.

It was brief — so brief he almost didn’t trust it.

Sonic had been jogging along the upper ridge trail when he glanced to the far cliff. And there — just for a second — a figure in black and red, standing near the edge.

Then gone.

He didn’t stop running, but his pace slowed.

Was he imagining it?

Maybe. Maybe not.

That afternoon, he passed Tails’ lab and poked his head in.

“You calibrating the weather bots again?” Sonic asked.

Tails glanced up from a bundle of tangled wires. “Trying to. The sensors are drifting again. You wanna help?”

“Can’t. Got too much loafing to do.”

Tails smirked. “You’ve been doing a lot of loafing lately.”

“I’m perfecting the art.”

Sonic ducked back out before the conversation could shift. He didn’t want to explain why he’d come by in the first place — mostly because he didn’t know. Maybe he just wanted to feel normal again for a second.

He loved the quiet of the hills, but lately, even the stillness was starting to feel loud.

The sightings didn’t stop.

A day later, Sonic was grabbing lunch at Big’s stall — a chili dog and a spiced root drink — when he happened to glance up.

Shadow.

On a distant rooftop. Just standing, looking out over the plaza.

Gone again when Sonic blinked.

It was like spotting a storm cloud that never came. Like something pressing at the edges of a sunny day.

He didn’t know if Shadow saw him too.

But every time, Sonic felt something catch in his chest. Not panic. Not fear. Just… awareness.

Presence.

Like the quiet between two people who weren’t talking — but might.

That night, Sonic lay on his back across the porch roof, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the stars.

Tails had already gone inside. Cream’s soft music still drifted through the trees, and the wind carried the occasional scent of honeysuckle from Amy’s garden.

It was peaceful.

And yet...

He found his thoughts drifting again. To the cliffs. To the silence. To the figure in the distance.

What was Shadow thinking about when he looked out like that?

What was he seeing?

What was he waiting for?

Sonic didn’t know.

But more and more, he wanted to.

The next morning came slow, wrapped in silver fog that burned off by mid-morning. The zone was quiet. The plaza still.

Sonic stood at the edge of the overlook again, arms crossed, staring across the valley.

And then — just for a moment — he saw him.

Shadow.

Not on the cliff this time, but walking.

A slow, deliberate path along the lower trail. Not toward town. Not toward the bunker. Just… walking.

Like Sonic had been.

Sonic didn’t move. He didn’t wave. He didn’t even shift his weight.

He just watched.

And from the distance, Shadow kept walking.

Not looking back.

Not looking forward.

But there.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Sonic ran.

Not far. Not fast.

But enough to let the breeze stretch through him, enough to shake the heavy quiet out of his chest. He took the long trail up past the ridge, the one that wound around the outer cliffs, just beyond where most of Green Hill faded into wild.

That’s where he’d seen him last.

Shadow, walking the lower trail — not headed anywhere in particular. Just moving. Sonic had watched from a distance, letting the moment pass like the others, letting the weight of it settle in his chest and stay there. But today… something tugged.

It wasn’t sudden. Wasn’t strong.

Just a quiet impulse. A pull.

Something like curiosity.
Something like need.

He slowed at the edge of the trail where the ridge bent around a narrow curve. The cliff dropped off to his left, a long tumble into tall grass and breeze. Below that: stone ledges, thin trees, worn walking paths.

And farther down, maybe a half-mile out — just barely visible through the trees — someone stood.

Still. Alone.

Black and red.
Spikes at his shoulders.
Motionless, except for the occasional shift of the wind tugging at his fur.

Sonic stepped closer.

He didn’t call out.

Didn’t wave.

He just… watched. One hand resting against the worn trunk of a tree, one foot braced on the slope. His breath was quiet. His pulse wasn’t. Not from nerves — not really. Just from the awareness of what this was. That something might shift here.

Something small.

Something first.

He stepped down onto the lower path.

The ground was uneven — wild roots, broken stone, soft patches where moss had overtaken the dirt. Sonic moved with practiced ease, but slower than usual. Deliberate. No wind in his ears. Just the sound of his own footsteps, and the way the breeze caught in the branches above.

Shadow hadn’t moved.

Not even a flick of an ear.

Sonic wasn’t sure if he’d been spotted yet. He figured he probably had. No one was sneakier than Shadow — and Sonic had never been quiet, not really.

He stopped a few yards away.

Close enough to speak. Far enough to walk away.

And waited.

The silence stretched.

Shadow didn’t look at him. His arms were crossed, his eyes steady on the horizon — the sea glittered faintly in the far distance. His posture was calm, but his presence still carried weight. Not hostile. Not even cold. Just… unreadable.

Sonic breathed in, deep and slow.

Then:
“Hey.”

Shadow blinked. Barely.

He didn’t turn.

Sonic took a single step forward. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your brooding hour.”

Now, Shadow turned.

Just slightly. A half-glance over the shoulder. One eye caught him, narrowed beneath furrowed brows.

Then, dryly: “You always this obnoxious in the morning?”

Sonic grinned. “Only when I’m feeling social.”

Shadow didn’t respond.

Sonic shifted his weight. The wind rolled through again — soft and distant, like it didn’t want to intrude.

“You always walk this trail?” Sonic asked. “Didn’t think you were the scenic type.”

Shadow’s eyes slid back to the horizon. “I walk where I want.”

“Fair enough.”

Sonic didn’t move. Let the silence fall again. It wasn’t awkward — not to him. He was used to silence. Grew up in it. Ran through it. Filled it when he wanted to, but let it hang when it meant something.

This one meant something.

“You live out near the cliffs, right?” he asked eventually.

Another glance. “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Shadow didn’t answer that. Just looked forward again.

The pause stretched longer this time. Sonic considered leaving. He wasn’t even sure what he’d come here for. A hello? A conversation? To see if something was there?

Maybe.

Maybe just… to close the space.

He took a small step closer.

“You always out here alone?” Sonic asked. His voice was quiet this time. Not teasing. Not poking. Just… wondering.

Shadow’s jaw moved, like he might answer — but didn’t.

Instead, he shifted. One hand moved to his side. The other stayed folded over his chest.

And then he said, “You don’t need to follow me.”

Sonic blinked.

“I’m not following you,” he said.

Shadow didn’t look convinced.

“I mean, sure,” Sonic went on, “I might’ve taken the long trail. But if I were following you, I’d be way better at it.”

A pause.

Then, somehow even drier: “You’d trip on the first branch.”

Sonic laughed. “Fair. Still faster than you, though.”

Shadow turned his head again, only just. “You think speed is everything.”

“I think it’s one thing.”

Another silence.

Then: “So why are you here?”

Sonic shrugged. “Guess I was curious.”

“About what.”

“You.”

Shadow didn’t move.

The air shifted again — soft, weighted.

Sonic met his gaze and didn’t look away. “I’ve seen you out here a few times. Figured you might be doing more than just walking.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just… thinking.”

Shadow stared at him for a long, unreadable moment. Then, finally: “Maybe I am.”

Sonic smiled, small and soft. “That’s allowed, you know.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Didn’t say you did.”

Silence again.

But this one felt different. Less like a wall. More like… space. Still quiet. Still uncertain. But no longer a refusal.

Just a pause.

An invitation, if he wanted it.

Sonic didn’t push it.

He shifted his weight again and looked out toward the sea.

“You get a good view from here,” he said.

Shadow said nothing.

They stood like that for a while — the space between them quiet, the wind light, the world soft around the edges. The air wasn’t heavy. The silence wasn’t cold. It just… was.

Eventually, Sonic turned.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

Shadow didn’t stop him. Didn’t say anything.

But as Sonic walked away, he thought — maybe — he heard:

“…You’re not as loud as I expected.”

He stopped. Looked back.

Shadow still hadn’t turned. Still faced forward. Still distant.

Sonic blinked.

Then smiled.

“I’ve got layers,” he said.

No response.

But that was fine.

He didn’t need one.

That evening, Sonic sat with Tails on the porch roof again.

The stars were out, and the wind had picked up a little. Night carried the scent of pine and sea salt, and the sky glowed soft and dark above them.

Tails glanced at him, half-curious. “You went back to the cliffs today, didn’t you.”

Sonic smirked. “Maybe.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Maybe.”

Tails waited. “And?”

Sonic leaned back, arms folded behind his head.

“He’s got walls,” he said. “Big ones.”

“But?”

“But he didn’t push me off the trail, so I’ll count it as progress.”

Tails laughed. “So what now?”

Sonic shrugged. “Now? I don’t know. I’ll see where the path goes.”

Tails nodded, thoughtful.

Sonic looked up at the stars again — quiet, clear, endless.

The space between them was still wide.

But maybe not as wide as before.

And for now… he could reach that far.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like anything had changed.

Not really.

The cliffs still looked the same. The sea still rolled far off in the distance. Tails still fiddled with wires, Amy still argued with the garden committee, and Sonic still ran every day like the world might fall apart without it.

Everything looked the same.

But the rhythm of things felt… shifted. Slightly. Silently.

Like something had been added, but no one had noticed yet.

Sonic noticed.

He felt it in the quiet spaces. The ones between moments, between errands, between footsteps. Something small had stayed behind after that conversation — if you could call it that — with Shadow. A trace of presence. A pause that hadn’t quite unpaused.

He’d walked away from it just like he said he would. And yet…

Part of him hadn’t.

He didn’t go back the next day.

That wasn’t part of the plan — not that there was a plan. But it didn’t feel right, somehow. Like stepping too close again would break whatever had settled in the air. Sonic was impatient by nature, sure, but not unwise. And if there was one thing he’d picked up about Shadow from that short, strange exchange, it was that pushing too soon didn’t get you anything but a cold shoulder.

And Sonic didn’t want to be pushed out.

So he gave it space.

But the moment lingered.

He dreamed about cliffs that night.

Not dramatic ones. Just… tall and quiet. He stood at the edge with the breeze in his fur and the grass brushing his ankles. No words. No movement. Just waiting. For something. Or someone. But the dream never told him what.

When he woke, the breeze outside sounded the same as the one in his sleep.

He stared at the ceiling for a while.

Didn’t move.

By the middle of the week, Tails started glancing at him again.

Not constantly. Not like he was worried. Just little looks. Like he was measuring Sonic’s pauses the way he measured engine hums — listening for something slightly off-key.

Sonic didn’t say anything. He didn’t feel ready to talk about it yet. Or maybe he just didn’t know what he’d say if he did. There was nothing happening. That was the strange part.

It wasn’t an event.

It wasn’t a feeling, not exactly.

Just a place in his chest where something had taken up space.

Amy stopped him in the plaza that Thursday.

She had a bundle of flyers under one arm and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“You okay?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Sonic blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“No, you’re Sonic weird. This is like… quiet weird.”

He shrugged. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Amy didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. Handed him a flyer for the upcoming Green Hill Potluck and warned him she’d make him carry all the watermelon if he bailed again this year.

Sonic promised nothing and kept walking.

He passed the trail to the cliffs that evening.

Didn’t take it.

But he looked at it. Let his steps slow, just a little. Watched the way the grass leaned in the breeze. Half-listened for movement.

Nothing.

He kept walking.

But the feeling followed him.

By the weekend, it was still there.

Tails had taken over the kitchen that morning, frying something that smelled suspiciously like leftover garden squash. Sonic sat sideways in one of the chairs, legs draped over the armrest, watching the sunlight shift across the tile floor.

“You gonna eat?” Tails asked without looking up.

Sonic shrugged. “Not hungry yet.”

“You always eat on Saturdays.”

“I can adapt.”

Tails hummed — a sound that carried more meaning than words ever could.

After a beat, he said, “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you.”

Sonic glanced at him. “What?”

“That thing that happened out by the cliffs.”

“…Maybe.”

Tails flipped something in the pan. “You don’t have to tell me what was said. But if it’s still bothering you, maybe you should go back.”

Sonic tilted his head. “It’s not bothering me. It’s just…”

“Lingering?”

Sonic blinked.

Tails looked over. “Yeah. I figured.”

Sonic let out a quiet breath. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“You don’t need to,” Tails said simply. “Not yet.”

That was the thing about Tails. He never made Sonic explain what he wasn’t ready to say.

That afternoon, Sonic walked again.

No plan. No rush. Just a trail under his feet and wind in the trees. The sky was soft and gray — not stormy, just dim. Cloud-filtered sunlight turned everything into a watercolor. The hills breathed. The grass swayed. The cliffs waited.

He found himself back at the overlook.

The one from days ago.

And when he looked out, Shadow wasn’t there.

The space was empty.

But somehow, it still felt full.

Like something had settled in the ground. In the rocks. In the silence.

Sonic sat down on the ledge.

He stayed there a while.

Didn’t think hard. Didn’t chase anything. Just let the air pass through him, the same way it had before.

He remembered the sound of Shadow’s voice. Dry. Blunt. Measured.

“You’re not as loud as I expected.”

It wasn’t a compliment.

But somehow… it hadn’t felt like an insult either.

Sonic smiled to himself.

The sun drifted lower.

He didn’t know if Shadow would show up again.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted him to — not yet.

Because the thing that was staying behind… it wasn’t really about Shadow.

It was about what changed in Sonic, after.

Something small.

Something quiet.

Something that didn’t go away.

When he got home, the house was filled with music. Cream had stopped by and brought fresh tea; Tails was showing her some little gizmo that blinked whenever you clapped near it. They waved Sonic inside. Amy’s voice echoed faintly through the hall — she must’ve been on speakerphone, loudly protesting that yes, her “team” was allowed to bring fruit salad to the potluck and no, Rouge couldn’t veto it.

Sonic dropped into a chair and let the noise happen around him.

The house was warm.

He smiled.

But still — quietly — he felt it. That trace. That stillness that stayed behind.

It didn’t ache. It didn’t weigh him down.

It just lingered.

And maybe that was okay.

Chapter Text

Sunday morning came with soft light and a slower breeze. The kind of day that felt like it didn’t want to start too fast — as if even the clouds had decided to sleep in. The leaves outside the apartment swayed quietly, catching gold in their edges, while the windows filtered everything through a warm, hazy calm.

Sonic stepped out of his room without thinking much about it.

He didn’t need to.

Some mornings just moved on their own.

Tails was already in the kitchen, humming quietly to something half-assembled on the counter — a blend of tools, scraps, and a mug of tea going cold next to a blue-glowing circuit board.

“You slept in,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

Sonic stretched. “Didn’t mean to.”

“You always say that when you do.”

“Guess I’m consistent.”

The corner of Tails’ mouth lifted, just a little. He didn’t say anything more. Sonic appreciated that.

There were days where words felt useful. Sharp and quick, like a spin-dash when you needed to break through something. But this wasn’t one of those days.

This was a day for stillness.

They didn’t leave the apartment until late morning. It wasn’t a decision, exactly — just one thing following another. Sonic helped clean up the mess in the kitchen. Tails offered him half of whatever pastry he’d half-forgotten from the day before. Music drifted from Cream’s house a few lots over, soft enough to feel like memory.

When they stepped outside, the world met them with quiet.

Green Hill moved like it always did — gently, with its own heartbeat. Children laughed somewhere down the path near the plaza. Distant chimes from the town wind sculpture caught the occasional gust. Everything in its place.

They walked without a destination.

Tails talked about the power grid problem he was working on — something to do with stabilizing Eggman’s old relay towers for sustainable recharging points. Sonic listened. He didn’t really follow, but he didn’t need to. He liked hearing Tails talk. The sound of it made the world feel normal again.

And maybe that was the point.

They ended up at the riverside near the eastern edge of the zone, where the grass grew taller and the trees started to thin. There were old stones to sit on there — weathered and warm in the sun — and a clear view of the cliffs across the bend.

Sonic glanced up.

Shadow wasn’t there.

But the sight of the cliffs still made something shift in his chest.

Not painfully.

Just… noticeably.

They sat in quiet for a while.

Tails tossed pebbles into the water with his tails flicking gently behind him. Sonic leaned back against a flat rock and let the breeze brush over his ears.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did Tails.

Not at first.

But after a stretch of stillness, Tails said, “You think you’ll see him again?”

Sonic didn’t look away from the cliffs. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to?”

A pause.

Then: “Yeah.”

Tails didn’t press it.

Sonic appreciated that, too.

He closed his eyes and let the silence hold.

Later that evening, Sonic sat out on the porch roof again, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees. The sun was nearly gone by then — the sky painted in deep purples and soft fire, the horizon fading into memory.

The breeze was cooler.

He watched the distant edge of the cliffs again.

Shadow didn’t appear.

Not that he’d expected him to.

But there was a quiet part of him that had hoped, maybe, he would.

Not to talk.

Not even to be seen.

Just to be there.

The way he had been before — like a shape carved into the skyline. A presence. A stillness that matched Sonic’s own, even when they didn’t share a word.

Sonic didn’t know what that meant.

He wasn’t ready to know.

But the feeling hadn’t faded. It hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had settled deeper. Not loud. Not fast.

Just there.

He didn't bring it up when Amy dropped by that night to borrow a mixing bowl and told him a five-minute story about Blaze accidentally setting a pot on fire in front of Silver.

He didn’t bring it up when Cream waved as she passed with a new book tucked under one arm.

He didn’t bring it up when Rouge leaned in through the window and said, "You look moody. Everything alright, Blue?"

He just smiled. Said yeah. Said he was fine.

Because he was.

Mostly.

When the moon rose high enough to silver the treetops, Sonic stood up and stretched again. His back cracked softly. The breeze had picked up.

He thought about walking.

Just far enough to see the trail.

Not to follow it.

Not tonight.

But he stayed.

There was nothing more to chase right now.

No one to talk to.

No words to offer or ask for.

But the quiet hadn’t left.

And neither had the feeling.

It lived in him now — soft, strange, and still.

And it said more than anything else could.

Without saying a word.

Chapter Text

Shadow had not meant to stay.

He told himself that often.

The cliffs weren’t his place. Neither was the river bend, or the plaza square, or the long upper trail where the trees broke open and the hill dipped down like an exhale. He didn’t belong there. He wasn’t trying to belong there. He was just walking. Just watching.

That’s all.

It was easier not to lie when he didn’t say anything at all.

He first returned to the cliffs the day after Sonic left.

He hadn’t planned to. He told himself it didn’t matter. But something about the space still felt full, like a breath held between one second and the next.

He stood in the same spot.

Arms crossed. Eyes forward.

Nothing stirred in the horizon.

But he could feel the echo of presence — the air where someone had been.

It wasn’t sentimental. Shadow had no time for that. He didn’t hold onto things. The past didn’t guide him; it reminded him. Pain didn’t define him; it sharpened him.

But Sonic…

There had been something in the way he looked.

Like stillness wasn’t foreign to him. Like he could understand silence without needing to break it. Shadow had expected bravado — noise. He’d gotten it, sure. But underneath that?

Something quieter.

Something honest.

It stayed with him.

He didn’t want it to.

He didn’t show himself again.

Not at the cliffs. Not near the house.

He didn’t get close. Just kept to the edges. The far side.

Watched.

Not always. Not obsessively.

Just often enough to keep track of things.

A glance at the apartment when the sun dipped low.

A brief moment perched atop the highest trees, watching Sonic and Tails walk the riverside trail.

A shadow above the rooftops at night, gone before anyone could spot him.

He wasn’t stalking.

He was tracking.

That’s what he told himself.

There were moments when he wanted to step forward.

Not to speak. Not to be seen. Just to exist a little closer to whatever quiet had lingered between them on that ridge.

But something stopped him every time.

Maybe pride. Maybe uncertainty.

Maybe the understanding that Sonic didn’t owe him anything — and Shadow wasn’t about to chase after something he didn’t understand.

So he stayed where he was.

Where it was safe.

Where nothing had to be said.

He watched from the far side.

When Sonic sat on the roof at night, legs swinging over the edge, Shadow stood atop the tower far across the zone, barely visible through the haze.

When Sonic wandered the long trail alone, Shadow followed from higher ground, silent as a breath, careful not to step where the wind would betray him.

When Sonic slowed at the cliffs again — not searching, but remembering — Shadow stood just out of sight, a single tree’s width away.

He wondered if Sonic could sense him.

He didn’t think so.

But he hoped a little.

He hated that.

Three days passed like that.

By the fourth, the ache of stillness felt heavier than usual.

Shadow stood at the edge of the tree line again that morning, arms folded, staring down the narrow slope that led toward the ridge.

Sonic wasn’t there.

The sky was overcast. Mist clung to the grass.

Shadow remained for several minutes before turning to leave.

He didn’t come back that night.

Not because he was finished watching.

But because maybe… it was time to stop waiting.

The wind shifted Wednesday evening.

Not in the weather, but in the way the world felt.

Sonic spent most of the day helping Tails move some heavy junk around the garage, but his thoughts had wandered more than once. Toward the cliffs. Toward the breeze. Toward the echo of that voice.

He hadn’t seen Shadow since that first and only time.

Not clearly, anyway.

A couple of odd glances — a shape in the distance. A flicker of something on a rooftop. The kind of things you could convince yourself were just shadows. Sonic hadn’t tried too hard to convince himself.

He figured if Shadow wanted to be seen, he would be.

If he didn’t…

Well. That was his choice.

Still, the quiet hadn’t left.

And Sonic didn’t know how long he could stay in it.

Late that afternoon, he walked alone.

No destination. No excuse.

Just the familiar path beneath his feet and the breeze in his quills.

The clouds were low again, cotton-gray and slow-moving. The cliffs weren’t glowing gold like last time — just soft and muted.

Sonic stepped through the grass without thinking.

By the time he reached the overlook, his feet had already decided.

He half-expected to find it empty.

And at first, he thought it was.

But then—

There.

A shift in the air. A flicker of movement.

Not down on the ledge, but to the side — against the darker edge of the slope.

Someone stood half-shadowed beneath the trees, arms crossed, posture still.

Watching.

Sonic slowed.

Their eyes met.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then, cautiously, Sonic stepped forward. Not rushed. Not bold.

Just steady.

He stopped a few paces away.

“You know,” he said gently, “if you wanted to disappear, you probably shouldn’t wear red.”

Shadow didn’t blink. “And if you wanted to be quiet, you shouldn’t talk.”

Sonic smiled faintly. “Fair.”

They stood in silence again.

Not the old silence.

Something changed.

Something waiting.

“You’ve been out here a lot,” Sonic said eventually.

Shadow didn’t respond right away. “So have you.”

“I live here.”

“I don’t.”

A beat.

Sonic shifted his weight. “You following me?”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“Maybe.”

Another pause.

Then: “You watching me?”

Shadow looked away. “You’re loud.”

“That’s not a no.”

Shadow exhaled — not a sigh, just something weightier than a breath.

“Why?” Sonic asked softly.

Shadow didn’t answer.

Sonic didn’t push.

The wind passed between them, light and cool.

Sonic watched him carefully.

“You still think I talk too much?”

Shadow glanced sideways. “You haven’t said anything worth responding to.”

Sonic grinned. “So you’re listening.”

That earned him nothing but a subtle shift in posture — but Sonic caught it. Just barely.

He stepped closer, only half a pace.

“I don’t know what this is,” he said, voice gentler now. “I don’t need to. But I think something changed. Back then. On the ridge.”

Shadow’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t have to admit it,” Sonic added. “But I felt it.”

A long, long pause.

Then, barely above the breeze:

“…I know.”

Sonic blinked.

That was the first time Shadow had acknowledged anything.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t smile.

He just let the quiet hold.

Shadow didn’t step closer.

But he didn’t leave.

And that was enough.

They stayed like that for a while.

Not talking. Not moving.

Just standing on the edge of whatever this might become.

Still uncertain. Still distant.

But not quite as far anymore.

Chapter Text

The day after had been, in the most literal way Sonic could put it, regular.

A blue sky stretched clear and clean across Green Hill’s horizon, brushed with a few high clouds that looked like they hadn’t figured out where they were headed yet. The sun was warm without being overwhelming. Even the wind knew when to keep things calm. Birds were chirping, flowers were doing their usual thing, and Sonic — for the better part of the morning — tried to keep his head on straight by letting all of it pass around him like he wasn’t part of it at all.

Normal was a good thing. It meant he didn’t have to think too hard.

He hadn’t said anything about Shadow. Not to Tails, not to Amy, not even to himself, really. Whatever that was — that weird, brief stillness from the day before, that kind of quiet only Shadow could create just by standing there — well. It didn’t need to be anything. Probably wasn’t. Just some… moment.

Sonic was good at moving on from moments. Usually.

He’d ended up back near the square that afternoon, where the usual rhythm of life buzzed through Green Hill like it always did. Shops open. Kids laughing. Familiar faces roaming around.

Tails was out running an errand — something about a capacitor shortage, Sonic hadn’t caught the full details — but that left Sonic with time to kill and a town to coast through.

He let himself drift toward the bench near the pop-up café where Amy and Cream had posted up with iced drinks and a sketchpad between them. A few seats over, Big was snoring softly with Froggy resting on his lap, earning him several fond glances from passersby who had long since stopped questioning why a full-grown frog was treated like royalty.

“Back already?” Amy asked, without looking up from the page. “Didn’t you say you were heading to the cliffs?”

“I was,” Sonic said, easing himself onto the edge of the bench. “But I figured I’d swing back for moral support. Or caffeine.”

“Or both,” Cream giggled, handing him a cold drink with a bent paper straw already tucked in.

Amy smirked. “He’s been doing this thing lately,” she said to Cream, “where he pretends he’s not thinking about something, and then shows up out of nowhere hoping no one notices.”

“I noticed,” Cream said kindly.

“Exactly.”

Sonic blinked at them, straw still in his mouth. “…You guys are relentless.”

“Only because we care,” Amy said brightly, her pencil swiping across the page. “Besides. We’re not wrong.”

“Nope,” Cream agreed, leaning over to draw a tiny flower on the corner of Amy’s sketchpad.

Sonic gave up with a sigh, flopping backward so his arms dangled over the back of the bench. “It’s nothing, alright? Just… you know. Thinking about stuff.”

Amy glanced at him. “Shadow?”

Sonic jolted so hard he nearly dropped his drink. “What? No— I mean— who said anything about Shadow?”

Cream looked up at the sky. “I didn’t even know Shadow talked.”

“He doesn’t,” Sonic muttered, ears twitching.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Okay, so maybe he said one or two words. Still counts. It got to you.”

“It did not—”

“Which word was it?” Cream asked, completely serious.

“…‘I know.’”

Cream paused. “Oh. That is a good word.”

“Thank you.”

Sonic sank a little lower into the bench. He was being teased, sure, but not in a mean way. Not even in an Amy-way. Just… light. Friendly. The kind of thing that didn’t feel sharp.

It helped. Kind of.

Amy leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “I think it’s good, actually. You talk to everybody. It’s good to have one person you don’t know. Makes things more interesting.”

“I guess,” Sonic muttered, blowing air through the straw.

“He probably thinks you’re interesting too,” Cream said softly, drawing another flower.

Sonic blinked at her. “You think so?”

She smiled at him, warm and small. “You’re loud. He’s not. It balances.”

“…Huh.” Sonic scratched the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how warm his ears felt. “Weird way to put it.”

“But it’s true,” Amy said, stretching. “Maybe next time you’ll get more than one sentence.”

Sonic shrugged, not ready to commit to that idea out loud. “Maybe.”

Sonic didn’t see Shadow the rest of that day.

He tried not to notice how often his eyes flicked toward alleyways, rooftops, or the occasional stretch of empty road. Green Hill was the kind of place where you knew who was around — you didn’t have to look for anyone. You just ran into them. That was the charm. That was the rhythm.

But every now and then, Sonic caught himself searching in places where Shadow had stood before. Just out of sight. Just far enough.

He didn’t say anything about it. Not even when he and Tails were finally back at the apartment that evening, eating microwave burritos on opposite ends of the couch while some retro movie played half-muted in the background.

“Hey,” Tails said after a while, not looking up from his plate, “You okay?”

“Huh?” Sonic blinked. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

Tails shrugged one shoulder. “Dunno. You’ve just been kinda quiet since yesterday.”

Sonic paused, mid-bite. “…Have I?”

“Mmhm.”

He chewed slowly, eyes drifting toward the screen. Two actors were arguing on a rooftop about something dramatic. Wind machines. Emotional strings.

Sonic swallowed. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Tails didn’t push. Just nodded, like he didn’t believe it but didn’t want to argue either.

They finished eating in companionable silence, and eventually Sonic leaned back, hands behind his head, and let the quiet settle around them.

Later, when Tails had fallen asleep half-curled on the far end of the couch — textbook on his lap, glasses still crooked on his nose — Sonic stared out the window for a long time.

The streets outside were dark, but peaceful. Porch lights blinked on like soft stars. The town moved slow at night, quieter than most places. It should’ve felt enough.

It almost was.

The next morning was even more normal than the last. Sonic woke to the smell of toasted bread and found Tails already halfway through breakfast, multitasking between a wrench in one hand and his second mug of tea in the other.

“Mornin’,” Tails said without looking up. “Want me to make you something?”

Sonic blinked the sleep from his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. “Nah. I’ll probably just head out for a bit. Go for a run.”

“You always say that when you’re trying not to think about something.”

Sonic snorted. “That so?”

“Yep.”

Tails didn’t press beyond that, and Sonic was grateful for it.

The truth was, a run did help. Not because it erased anything, but because it spread it out — like stretching a tight muscle or shaking dust off something you hadn’t used in a while.

By late morning, Sonic was back at the cliffs again, watching waves roll in from a distance. The sea was calmer than usual, glassy in its stillness. You could almost mistake it for something delicate.

He let the breeze run through his quills, eyes scanning the tree lines. Nothing.

Still, a part of him held its breath.

He caught glimpses again that afternoon. Nothing solid — just impressions. A shape that might’ve been someone. A shift in the corner of his eye. A feeling more than a fact.

Shadow wasn’t gone. Not really. Just not… here.

Sonic tried to let it go. Focus on the familiar.

He visited Knuckles for a while, who was working on fixing one of the bridges up near the ridge.

“You’re drifting,” Knuckles said, not looking away from the wood he was hammering. “Again.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah you are.”

Sonic slumped onto a boulder. “Everyone’s a mind reader now.”

“Not that hard when your face does all the talking,” Knuckles grunted. “You look like you’re waiting for something to fall on your head.”

“…That’s very specific.”

“Just saying.”

Knuckles let the silence settle again, hammer tapping slow and steady.

“You ever think some people are just…” Sonic started, then trailed off. “I dunno. Hard to get.”

Knuckles gave him a look. “You’re asking me?”

“I mean, you’re the most no-nonsense guy I know.”

Knuckles raised an eyebrow.

Sonic sighed. “Forget it.”

But even Knuckles, who was usually too straightforward to bother with subtlety, paused long enough to say: “If you’re thinking about him again, don’t.”

Sonic blinked. “Word gets around, huh?”

“He’s not like you,” Knuckles added, adjusting the frame of the bridge. “He’s not going to follow your pace. You want something from him, you’re gonna have to wait.”

Sonic tilted his head.

“I am waiting.”

“Then do it without turning your whole brain inside out,” Knuckles said flatly. “You’re annoying when you get quiet.”

Sonic laughed despite himself.

By sundown, Sonic found himself at one of the garden paths that curled behind the old town museum. No one really went there in the evenings — the flowers were out of season, the benches weathered from disuse.

Which made it the perfect place for someone like Shadow to show up.

And for the first time in days…
He did.

Shadow was standing near the edge of the path, half-turned, half-hidden.

He wasn’t looking at Sonic. Not directly. His gaze was angled somewhere off to the side, low and unreadable — like he was watching the way the breeze curled around the stone benches, or maybe just pretending to.

It wasn’t a surprise. Not really. Sonic had felt him before he saw him.

“…You sure like the dramatic entrances,” Sonic called, tone easy, but voice lower than usual.

Shadow didn’t move.

Sonic stopped a few paces away, hands resting loosely on his hips. “You’ve been around. I noticed.”

Still nothing.

“Are you gonna say something this time?” Sonic asked, with half a smile. “Or is this one of those ‘stoic silence is a power move’ days?”

The wind stirred the grass between them.

For a second, it seemed like Shadow might leave — his body angled slightly away, muscles taut like he was ready to vanish without a word.

But he didn’t.

“…What do you want?”

It was quiet. Flat. Dismissive in that familiar Shadow way — but it wasn’t sharp. Not exactly. Just… cold.

Sonic exhaled. “I don’t want anything.”

Shadow’s eyes flicked to him. Barely. A glance like a cut.

“You’ve been following me,” Sonic added. “Or watching. Whatever you want to call it.”

“I haven’t.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Sonic laughed once. “I’m not mad, if that’s what you think. But don’t act like I haven’t seen you.”

There was a beat. Then Shadow looked away again.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, after a long moment. His voice was quieter now — more contained. “It wasn’t intentional.”

Sonic’s brow knit. “Wasn’t it?”

Shadow didn’t answer.

Sonic stepped closer — not too close, just enough that he wasn’t talking into the wind.

“You showed up,” he said, gently. “You didn’t disappear after. You’ve been… around.”

Shadow’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Sonic tilted his head. “Doesn’t it?”

Something like frustration flickered across Shadow’s face. Not anger — not like before — but something tangled, something difficult.

“I don’t want—” He stopped himself. “…You shouldn’t keep trying.”

“Trying what?”

“Whatever this is.”

Sonic looked at him, long and level.

“I’m not trying to do anything. You keep showing up. I’m just not ignoring that.”

“That’s exactly it,” Shadow snapped. “You’re not ignoring it.”

Sonic blinked. “You want me to?”

“I didn’t ask you to notice me.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t even awkward. Just… stretched.

Shadow turned slightly, facing him now — not fully, but enough. His posture was rigid, arms crossed, voice low like something was pulling him in two directions.

“You’re loud,” he said, almost like an accusation. “You’re always moving. Always talking. You don’t stop.”

Sonic nodded slowly. “That’s… me. Yeah.”

“And I don’t… get that.”

“Do you need to?”

Shadow looked away again. “No.”

Sonic softened. “Then what are you still doing here?”

No answer.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Sonic said, voice calm. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to talk. But I’m not gonna act like you’re invisible.”

Shadow’s fingers curled faintly against his arms. He didn’t look at Sonic, but he didn’t vanish either.

“I’m just here,” Sonic added. “That’s all.”

Shadow didn’t reply. But this time, he didn’t leave.

They stood like that for a while — not speaking, not pushing, not pretending it didn’t mean anything.

Just two figures in the quiet, each carrying something they weren’t ready to name.

By the time Sonic walked home, the sky was dimming. Streetlights flickered on like thoughts you’d meant to ignore all day.

He didn’t tell anyone where he’d been.

Didn’t explain the quiet look on his face when Tails glanced up from the couch.

Just sat down beside him again — this time a little closer — and let the evening settle around them, not quite the same as the night before.

Chapter Text

The air felt heavier the closer Sonic got to the edge of a hill.

Not in a bad way, exactly — just… denser. Like the sky leaned lower here, pressing quiet against his shoulders. Wind stirred the grass with a low murmur, pushing sideways through the trees. Everything felt still in a way that didn’t last long anywhere else. No crashing waterfalls. No chirping chatter from his friends. Just wind. Sky. And that far-off quiet he hadn’t quite named yet.

Sonic slowed to a walk.

It was one of his favorite places. High up, a little hard to reach if you didn’t know the switchback paths behind the mossy rocks, and peaceful in a way even he didn’t mind sitting still for. The kind of spot where the air let you think — where thoughts didn’t feel so tight.

He came here sometimes to breathe. Other times to wonder.

Today, maybe both.

A few paces more, and he reached the overhang. Green Hill opened out beneath him — sprawling, sunlit, gold-striped and warm, far in the distance. The old loop-de-loops looked like toy tracks from up here. His eyes scanned the quiet expanse, but they weren’t really looking for anything specific. Maybe just shapes that felt familiar. Maybe just movement.

Maybe something dark in all the green.

But it was empty down there.

Sonic sighed and sat down.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen him — not since that brief moment on the ridge, the one that still felt like a flicker in his chest when he let it get quiet enough. It wasn’t much. It hadn’t even been that long. But it stuck.

Shadow’s voice, low and dry, brushing the edge of conversation.
His stance — sharp and firm like he didn’t know how to rest.
The look in his eyes. Like something always half-drawn and half-defensive.

That was the part Sonic couldn’t shake. Like Shadow was waiting for something to go wrong before it ever did. Like everything — even Sonic — was a possibility to defend against.

It shouldn’t have made him this curious.

But it did.

And it wasn’t the kind of curiosity he could blow off with a few laps around the hills. It didn’t move that fast. It stuck low in his chest like the hum of something left unresolved. Not dangerous. Not bad. Just… there. Quiet and weightless and waiting.

He plucked a blade of grass beside him and twirled it absently between his fingers.

“…Weird guy,” he murmured.

The wind didn’t answer.

Tails had noticed, of course.

He’d caught on the second Sonic had come home distracted two evenings ago, sitting through dinner without noticing his plate, gaze drifting toward the window without meaning to. Tails hadn’t said anything outright. Just a glance. A little wrinkle in his brow. The kind of quiet pause he always gave Sonic when he didn’t want to ask too directly — but knew something was up.

“You good?” he’d said, soft.

Sonic had nodded. “Yeah, just thinkin’.”

And that was mostly true.

It just wasn’t the kind of thinking that finished itself.

He lay back in the grass now, letting the wind move through his fur, arms folded behind his head. Shadows of clouds passed slow and faint across the sun. From up here, the world felt paused — like he could stay outside of everything just long enough to sort out what all this was building toward.

And yet.

Something flickered at the edge of his vision.

Sonic blinked, sat up slightly. Squinted.

There. Across the small canyon, just beneath the ridgeline — a shape. Dark. Tall. Still.

Sonic didn’t move.

Didn’t call out.

Didn’t want it to disappear.

Shadow didn’t vanish this time.

He stood across the canyon like a statue against the rocks — unmoving, unreadable, like he hadn’t expected to be seen but wasn’t backing down either. His eyes, even from that far, were trained directly on Sonic. Not in challenge. Not in threat.

Just… watching.

Like Sonic had done, more than once.

Something stirred in Sonic’s chest — something that buzzed between caution and connection.

He raised a hand slowly in the faintest wave.

Shadow didn’t wave back.

But he didn’t leave, either.

Not yet.

Sonic held the gaze for as long as Shadow stayed.

Maybe a full minute. Maybe more. It was hard to tell — time felt strange when nothing else moved, like the clock had been left behind at the bottom of the hill. The wind kept blowing. The trees below leaned. But the two of them stayed still, separated by just enough distance to keep the silence safe.

Then — slowly — Shadow turned.

One step back. Another. Then, gone.

Back over the ridge. No burst of speed. No sudden movement. Just a quiet exit.

Like he hadn’t meant to be caught there in the first place.

Sonic sat a little longer, heart doing that thing where it picked up for no reason. He exhaled through his nose, unsure what that counted as. A sighting? A mutual stare-down? A repeat of their last not-quite-conversation?

It didn’t feel like nothing.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

He let his eyes fall closed and tilted his head back to the sky.

“…Weird guy,” he muttered again.

But softer this time.

Later that day, Sonic wandered back into town.

The sun had lowered some by then, casting warm amber across the tops of roofs and flickering gold against passing windows. His usual shortcuts through alleys and low stone walls brought him past the plaza, where the scent of food drifted out from an open stall and laughter filtered up from the fountain ledge. He caught the faint echo of Amy’s voice and looked over.

Sure enough — there they were.

Amy, stretched across the ledge like she owned it. Tails beside her, kicking his legs softly. Knuckles was balancing something impossibly heavy on one finger like it was a contest, and Rouge looked vaguely unimpressed. Even Cream was there, perched beside Blaze, chatting softly with her feet tucked up like she always did when she got comfortable. It was all so familiar — so normal.

Sonic felt something ease in his chest.

They didn’t see him at first. He didn’t mind. It was one of those moments where just being near was enough — one of those little snapshots of life that reminded him how steady everything still was, even when other parts of him felt tilted off-axis.

He hopped the side wall and strolled in.

“Don’t stop having fun just ‘cause I showed up,” he called lightly.

Amy grinned. “Oh no, we were already bored.”

“You were,” said Knuckles. “I’m busy being impressive.”

Rouge smirked faintly. “He’s been doing that for seven minutes straight.”

“And I could go twelve,” Knuckles declared, flexing.

Sonic laughed and plopped down next to Tails, nudging him playfully. “You keepin’ ‘em all in line while I’m gone?”

Tails smiled, a little tired but warm. “Mostly.”

Amy tossed him a grape. “You’ve been disappearing lately.”

“I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Dangerous,” she teased.

Sonic grinned but didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.

They stayed a while.

He didn’t say much — just listened, joked, let the evening stretch long and easy. He didn’t bring up Shadow. Didn’t mention the canyon, or the weird not-quite-interaction that was still humming at the edges of his memory. It didn’t feel right yet — like it wasn’t finished cooking. Or maybe it was just something he wanted to keep for himself a little longer. Something that might change if he spoke it too early.

Instead, he let himself be grounded by the familiar.

Knuckles, who couldn’t stop throwing things too hard. Amy, who had a story about everything. Rouge, who only stayed when she wanted to, but always found reasons lately. Tails, who watched Sonic more than anyone and said the least about it.

They were his constants.

And they helped — even when they didn’t know they were.

It was late when Sonic left them.

The sun had dipped behind the hills, casting the world in those soft blue shadows that made everything quieter. Streetlights hadn’t flicked on yet, but the sky had dimmed just enough that Sonic’s eyes adjusted fast to the shifting gray.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, exactly.

But he didn’t take the direct route home.

Feet moving on instinct, he drifted up past the creek, then over the rise near the east ridge. His pace was slow — not cautious, but not rushed either. Just enough to feel the world around him stretch and bend in subtle ways, like he was part of something he hadn’t quite stepped into yet.

And that’s when he saw it.

Movement.

Not far off — maybe a dozen meters ahead, in the half-shadow of the trees. A dark figure, standing still again. Watching.

Sonic didn’t flinch.

He kept walking — slow, careful, deliberate — until he was only a few feet away.

This time, Shadow didn’t disappear.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t vanish like smoke or pull back behind the trees. He stood there, half-shadowed in the dusk light, like he’d been waiting.

Sonic stopped a few paces away.

The air between them buzzed with the silence.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again this fast,” Sonic said softly.

Shadow didn’t answer.

He wasn’t looking directly at Sonic — just somewhere slightly past him, like the trees behind were more important. But he didn’t move. He didn’t leave.

Sonic waited a moment, then took another step forward. Not close enough to crowd him. Just enough to close the space into something livable. Something not so far apart.

“Y’know,” Sonic said, voice casual but light, “you keep showin’ up like this, and people are gonna think you actually like me.”

That got Shadow’s attention. A faint turn of the head. A shift in the air.

“People already think a lot of things,” Shadow replied, dry and low.

Sonic smiled. “You’re not denying it.”

Shadow finally met his eyes.

That stare — that cold, unreadable look — but behind it, something quieter. Something almost restrained, like a calm he hadn’t meant to feel, and didn’t trust enough to hold.

“Should I?”

Sonic tilted his head. “Wouldn’t blame you either way.”

Shadow’s expression twitched — not a smile, not quite — but a faint crack in the stillness of his face.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” Shadow said.

“Yeah? But you stayed.”

A beat.

Then another.

Shadow exhaled slowly through his nose, and for a second, he looked almost tired. Like whatever he was carrying had started to wear grooves into him, and standing here — talking to Sonic, of all people — was not something he’d planned for.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Shadow said at last.

Sonic blinked. “…Is that concern?”

“It’s observation.”

“You sure?”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed faintly. “Don’t push it.”

“I wasn’t gonna. Just curious.”

Silence again. Not sharp, but fragile — a quiet kind of tension. Not anger. Not hostility. Just something stretched tight between them, hanging in the dusky space like a thread.

Sonic looked at him more carefully now.

There was a stiffness in Shadow’s posture that hadn’t been there last time. Like he was bracing for something. Like he hated being still, hated being seen, but couldn’t seem to leave either.

“Do you… ever get tired of being alone?” Sonic asked suddenly.

Shadow flinched — subtly. Like he hadn’t expected it to come from him.

“I’m not—” he started, but stopped.

The words didn’t land right. And Sonic noticed.

Shadow turned away slightly, jaw tight.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sonic said, softer now. “I just meant—”

“I choose this,” Shadow said flatly. “It’s not a weakness.”

Sonic nodded. “Didn’t say it was.”

A pause.

Shadow’s hand flexed slightly at his side. Opened. Closed. Like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I don’t need—”

“No one said you do.”

Another pause.

The wind brushed through again. The branches above whispered. Sonic stood steady.

“…But maybe sometimes it’s nice,” Sonic added, “when someone else shows up.”

Shadow didn’t respond.

But he didn’t walk away.

And that said enough.

The conversation — if it could be called that — didn’t go much further. A few more looks. One or two half-sentences. But the quiet between them stayed, and Shadow didn’t vanish.

Eventually, Sonic sat down in the grass. Shadow didn’t join him. Just stood there, arms crossed, eyes scanning the sky like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

It wasn’t peaceful, exactly.

But it wasn’t hostile either.

They stayed like that for a while.

And somewhere in the strange, stretched quiet — something shifted. Not big. Not obvious. But Sonic could feel it. A little less space. A little more gravity.

Like they were both at the edge of something.

And neither of them was ready to call it what it was.

When Shadow eventually left, he didn’t say goodbye.

He just turned. Walked into the trees. Not rushed, not abrupt — just a quiet step back into solitude like he hadn’t ever meant to be seen in the first place.

Sonic stayed sitting in the grass long after the sound of his footsteps had faded.

He let the air move around him. Let the stillness settle in again, only this time, it didn’t feel as heavy. Didn’t feel as strange.

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the deepening blue above.

It wasn’t nothing. That was the thing.

That moment — weird as it was — meant something. Maybe not something big. Maybe not even something Shadow would admit to himself. But Sonic had felt it.

That tension in the space between them. The pause that lasted longer than it should have. The way Shadow had stayed. The way he’d almost let something in.

It was like trying to read the wind.

You couldn’t see it — but you felt the change.

Sonic frowned slightly, staring up at the first few stars breaking through the dusk. They were faint, but steady. Always there. Even when the sky felt too big, too quiet.

He thought about the way Shadow had stood — rigid but rooted. Like he wanted to run, but couldn’t make himself move. Like he was fighting something inward.

And the way he looked at him — not soft, exactly, but not guarded either. Almost like he was trying to figure Sonic out. Like he was trying not to care, and couldn’t quite manage it.

Sonic exhaled.

It wasn’t often he met someone who made him feel still. Not tense. Not bored. Just… aware. Present.

Shadow did that.

Maybe because he was so different. Maybe because he wasn’t easy. Maybe because he pushed against every part of Sonic’s natural instinct to go fast, fill the silence, make people laugh.

Because with Shadow, it didn’t work like that.

You had to slow down. Had to listen to the quiet. Had to let it stretch without trying to fix it.

It was kind of frustrating.

And kind of fascinating.

By the time Sonic wandered back into town, the sun was fully gone.

His pace was slow. Not tired — just thoughtful. Shoes soft on the dirt path as he passed the old community sign, a few flickering streetlights, the small bulletin board with weekend event flyers still pinned in crooked layers.

He passed the diner. Still open. A few familiar faces through the glass. He thought about going in — but didn’t.

Just lifted a hand in an idle wave to whoever saw him, and kept walking.

It wasn’t loneliness he felt.

Just distance.

Not from people, but from whatever part of himself had brushed up against something new. Something unsteady. Something he couldn’t name yet.

Maybe that was okay.

Maybe some things didn’t need to be named right away.

The next morning, Tails didn’t ask him anything.

They were eating toast on the porch, watching birds hop across the fence line. Tails was mid-sentence about a new wrench set he wanted, talking with that half-animated hand motion he always used when he got excited.

Sonic was nodding, half-listening, half-thinking.

Tails noticed — of course he did — but he didn’t press.

Just smiled a little and let the space stay soft.

Sonic appreciated that.

Maybe he’d tell him. Maybe not yet.

Maybe not until he understood it himself.

Because this thing with Shadow — whatever it was — wasn’t something he could speed through. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious.

It was something else.

Something quiet.

Something right at the edge.

Chapter Text

Shadow didn't sleep much. He never did. Especially not lately.

The night air was quiet around him, still damp with ocean scent, clinging faintly to the stones beneath his shoes. Perched near the cliffside, overlooking the wide expanse of Green Hill's coastline, Shadow sat with arms loosely folded over his knees and eyes fixed on the horizon—on the dark, dimming curve of sky that hadn't yet turned silver-blue.

His mind should’ve been empty, like the world in front of him. But it wasn’t.

He'd walked away yesterday. Not just from Sonic, but from something else—something in himself he didn’t like the shape of. It had taken everything in him not to pause halfway through that stupid trail just to glance over his shoulder. Not because he’d regretted leaving—but because Sonic hadn’t stopped him.

He exhaled, slow.

That was better. Better this way.

Shadow didn’t need to linger in the brightness of someone else. He didn’t belong in it.

Still.

The silence around him didn’t feel earned. It felt… interrupted.

And not by the wind. Not even by the weight of his own thoughts. But by a lingering presence—faint, in the air. Like a voice that had almost said something. One that lived too easily in his mind.

“Do you... ever get tired of being alone?”

Shadow’s ears twitched.

He didn’t know why those words had stuck. Sonic hadn’t even looked at him when he’d said them—not directly, anyway. He’d asked like it was nothing, like he was just tossing a pebble into water. But it had rippled. Somehow.

And Shadow, without meaning to, had let it echo.

No. He shook his head once, sharply, like the gesture could cut it out.

He shifted his weight forward, onto the balls of his feet, and stood.

It was too early for anyone else to be awake. That was why he liked this hour. No background noise. No Tails’ inventions humming somewhere in the far-off trees. No birds even, except for the one lone chirp that dared cut the stillness before its time. The sun hadn’t climbed up enough to warm the ground yet, and dew still clung to every blade of grass on the hilltop.

His footsteps were silent as he moved. Down the slope. Past the old windmill. Past the long-abandoned wooden bridge that creaked if you even looked at it wrong.

He wasn’t looking for anything.

That’s what he told himself.

But as his pace slowed at the base of the hill, near the low edge of the forest where the trees began to knot together, Shadow found himself turning his head. Just slightly. As if expecting something to appear.

Nothing did.

Of course it didn’t.

And yet, he still paused.

Still stood there, the air thick with early morning chill and a strange hum in his chest that refused to leave.

He didn’t know why Sonic had approached him yesterday. He didn’t know why it mattered that he had.

They’d seen each other in passing before—across open field stretches, on the edge of town, once from opposite sides of a river where neither said anything. But yesterday had been different. Intentional.

Shadow clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing.

It didn’t mean anything. Sonic probably greeted half the world like that. Carefree. Pointless.

But it didn’t feel pointless. And that was the problem.

Shadow didn’t like uncertainty.

Especially not in himself.

He turned sharply and started back up the hill, shoes biting into damp soil with every step. His movements were faster now, like he could outwalk the thought.

But even as he climbed, even as the trees stretched thinner and the sky began to pale with dawn, he couldn’t push the moment away.

That blue—blinding, familiar.

Those eyes—bright, stupidly open.

That voice—“Do you... ever get tired of being alone?”

Like it meant something. Like it saw something.

Shadow scowled.

He didn’t want to be seen.

By late morning, the world had changed completely.

The sky was clean now, cut open with wide sweeps of sun. The breeze had softened, brushing over the land with an idle rhythm that made the trees sway like they were dreaming. Shadow didn’t often come this close to the center of Green Hill during the day—especially not when he could hear Sonic laughing in the distance.

But here he was.

He told himself it was habit. That he always passed through this side of the valley around this time. But that wasn’t true. Not anymore.

He heard them before he saw them—Sonic and his friends, gathered like they always were. Like the world was still bright and easy and weightless in their hands. Tails was talking about something, clearly mid-story, while Amy leaned in close like she already knew the ending but still wanted to hear it. Knuckles was scowling and cracking his knuckles out of pure reflex. And Sonic—

Sonic was on his back in the grass, hands behind his head, squinting up at the sky like it was saying something funny. There was dirt on his shoes and a grass stain on his arm and a smirk on his face that hadn’t left all morning.

Shadow stopped walking.

He hadn’t meant to.

He was far enough to stay unseen, partially behind a tree at the slope’s edge. His arms folded tightly over his chest.

He could just turn around. No one had seen him yet.

But then Sonic rolled lazily to one side, propped up on an elbow, and grinned at something Tails said. And Shadow didn’t move.

He hated how easy it was to fall still.

The way Sonic’s laugh carried in the open space. The way the others moved with him—like their gravity centered there. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t earned. It just was.

Shadow didn’t understand it.

He didn’t understand how someone could be that unburdened. That available to the world. That… loud and bright without apology.

It was the opposite of him.

And yet, Sonic had still asked him that question.

“Do you... ever get tired of being alone?”

Shadow’s fingers curled slightly onto the sleeve of his arm.

He thought about leaving again. Disappearing into the trees. But then, as if something in the atmosphere shifted, Sonic glanced up—and looked straight at him.

Their eyes met.

Just for a second.

Shadow didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

Neither did Sonic.

The hilltop breeze quieted.

Then Sonic tilted his head, just a little. Not a wave. Not a grin. Just a flicker of recognition.

And then he looked away, like it wasn’t anything. Like it hadn’t mattered. Like he knew Shadow would decide what came next, and wouldn’t push.

Shadow stood there for another beat, longer than he meant to.

And then—slowly—he walked down the hill.

Not toward the group. But not away, either.

Just toward the slope’s base, where the edge of the trail looped closer to where Sonic would eventually pass through.

He waited.

Not because he wanted to talk. But because he didn’t want to disappear just yet.

The wind had died by the time Shadow reached the bend in the trail.

It was quieter here—just outside the meadow where the others still lingered. From this spot, he couldn’t hear their voices anymore, just the occasional rustle of movement or faint laughter if the breeze shifted. He stood near the edge of the path, half-shadowed by the trees, arms folded again, like that would anchor him.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t have to. He could still feel Sonic’s presence, even without seeing him.

The moment on the hill had lasted barely a second. But it was there—a glance caught and held. An acknowledgment. No pressure. No demand. Just Sonic, looking at him like it was natural. Like it made sense, somehow. Just as he had done the day before.

And maybe that was the most unbearable part of all.

Because it didn’t make sense.

Not to Shadow.

Not when everything in his life had been shaped by the opposite. Solitude had always been the default. Walls were easier than bridges. Distance was easier than disappointment.

And still, something had shifted that day by the stream. Sonic’s voice. His question.

“Do you... ever get tired of being alone?”

Shadow hadn’t answered. He didn’t think Sonic had expected him to.

But now… now, that quiet question wouldn’t stop following him.

Shadow exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowed. His arms felt tight with the strain of holding still, of not doing anything. He didn’t know what he was waiting for.

And then—

Footsteps.

Not just anyone’s. Sonic’s. Light, a little uneven in rhythm, relaxed like he had nowhere urgent to be. The sound of him moving closer through the grass was easy to track, and Shadow didn’t move until he heard it—

“Yet another day I catch you standing still.”

Shadow didn’t turn. Not immediately.

Sonic was behind him, just close enough to hear him clearly, but not so close that their space felt pressed. His voice was calm, not loud or smug. Maybe even… careful.

When Shadow finally looked, Sonic was leaning against a low branch near the trail, arms crossed casually over the curve of it. His quills were wind-tossed and his brow slightly furrowed—just enough to show he was paying attention.

Shadow said nothing.

Sonic waited.

Then—half a smirk, nothing heavy—he added, “Wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Just figured you saw me already.”

Shadow’s gaze flicked toward him, unreadable.

“…I did.”

A beat.

Sonic’s grin edged upward. “Figures.”

Another quiet settled over them.

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. A breeze swept through the leaves above, stirring the light again. Shadow stayed rigid, eyes half-focused on the space ahead—but Sonic didn’t leave.

“Look,” Sonic said finally, voice lower now. “I know you probably don’t want company right now. Or ever. But—”

He hesitated. Just a second. Like he wasn’t sure if he should go on.

Shadow turned slightly—enough to make it clear he was listening.

Sonic’s ears twitched.

“…I just didn’t want you thinking you weren’t welcome around here.”

There it was again.

That infuriating gentleness.

No push. No force. Just a small opening. Offered like it cost nothing.

Shadow swallowed. His jaw locked tight.

“I never asked to be,” he said flatly.

Sonic didn’t flinch.

“Didn’t say you did.”

More silence.

Then, softer this time: “But you stuck around, didn’t you?”

The breeze paused. Shadow didn’t respond.

Sonic gave it a few seconds before slowly pushing away from the tree. “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said lightly, turning toward the trail again. “Didn’t mean to make this weird.”

He stepped forward, moving past him—but before he could fully go—

“…Why?”

Sonic stopped.

He turned, blinking once. “Why what?”

Shadow’s eyes stayed fixed on a distant point, but his voice, though low, didn’t waver.

“…Why do you care?”

Sonic tilted his head, considering.

Then shrugged once.

“…Because I can.”

Shadow’s brows pulled together.

Sonic’s gaze didn’t falter. “Because maybe you don’t realize you matter to anyone until somebody acts like you do.”

It was simple.

Too simple.

And yet, the words burrowed in deep—past instinct, past resistance, past every wall Shadow had spent his life reinforcing.

Sonic didn’t wait for an answer this time.

He just gave him a nod—soft, not pitying—and kept walking.

Shadow stood still long after he was gone.

The last of Sonic’s words still echoed somewhere in the low part of his chest, stubborn and unfinished. The breeze picked back up in his absence, but it felt colder now—sharper, somehow. Like it had slipped into the space he’d left behind.

"Because maybe you don’t realize you matter to anyone until somebody acts like you do."

Shadow turned the phrase over in his head, biting down gently on the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t want that to mean anything.

He didn’t want him to mean anything.

But the worst part was that the ache that followed wasn’t unfamiliar.

It knew its way around him already.

With a long exhale, Shadow finally moved. He stepped further off the path, brushing past ferns and low brush until he found a clearer spot—less exposed, surrounded by angled trees and soft dirt underfoot. He needed space. But more than that, he needed quiet—the kind that wouldn’t keep asking him questions.

He sat down.

For a moment, everything stilled. The sun filtered down in soft, pale patches. The hum of insects rose and faded. Leaves danced above him like they always had.

Shadow tilted his head back.

Sonic’s voice remained.

Not the words—just the tone. Just the way it had landed without judgment. The way it hadn’t asked him for anything. It had offered instead, which was somehow worse. Which made it harder to dismiss.

Shadow remembered a time when he’d been surrounded by scientists, data, directives—everything measured, everything accounted for. But nothing in that sterile world had ever made him feel like this.

There was no reason Sonic’s attention should matter.

No reason that brief glance on the hill should stick in his mind like a thorn he didn’t want to pull.

But it did.

His hand curled slightly against the dirt.

He hated this feeling. Like something was being shaken loose in him. Like he couldn’t walk away clean anymore.

He didn’t know when it had started. Maybe that afternoon by the stream. Maybe earlier, when Sonic had seen him in the woods and didn’t look surprised. Maybe even before that, in the small moments when their paths had crossed and Sonic had smiled like they already knew each other—like there was no distance to cross.

Shadow didn’t trust it.

But he couldn’t ignore it, either.

He stood again, quietly, and made his way through the trees—not back toward the trail, not yet, but further along the ridge, where the forest opened slightly and the light broke wider. He moved carefully, lightly, almost without sound. It had always come naturally to him—staying in the periphery, observing from the far side.

But even now, his thoughts kept circling one point.

He had lingered.

He had chosen to be near Sonic, more than once. Not because he was curious. Not because he was ordered to. But because…

…because something about that presence made him still in a way nothing else ever had.

Shadow’s fists tightened at his sides.

He hated not knowing why.

And still—

When he caught a distant glimpse of blue ahead, near the trees past the meadow, his steps didn’t falter.

Sonic was there again, crouched slightly by a fallen branch, probably nudging at something small—a beetle, maybe. Just idly poking around. His guard was down. His posture loose. Not expecting company, and certainly not trying to impress anyone.

Shadow remained hidden among the trees, watching.

He didn’t know how long he stood there.

Minutes, maybe more.

Sonic stretched his arms over his head, groaned a little, then flopped backwards into the grass. He rested his hands behind his head, eyes turned up toward the canopy, and let the stillness fall over him like it belonged there.

Like he belonged there.

Shadow didn’t blink.

He didn’t move.

And when Sonic’s ears flicked once—as if sensing something nearby—Shadow turned away and vanished without sound.

The next morning came quiet.

Warm, still, golden in that early hour haze. Green Hill moved gently around itself. Birds skirted treetops. The wind carried soft petals down the slope. A breeze tugged Sonic’s quills where he sat alone near the cliff’s edge again, kicking a leg over the side, the other bent against his chest.

He hadn’t meant to end up back here, but his feet had brought him anyway.

Habit, maybe.

Or something like it.

Tails had offered to join him, but Sonic had waved him off. There were times he wanted company. There were times he didn’t. Today was somewhere in-between.

He leaned back on his palms, squinting out toward the looped horizon and the low clouds drifting slow. He'd been out here for an hour already. Not doing much. Just… existing.

And wondering, a little, if he’d misread everything.

Shadow hadn’t shown up again.

Not since yesterday.

Not since the quiet, strange thing they’d shared in the space between their words. Not since Sonic had asked a question he still wasn’t sure he should’ve voiced.

"Do you… ever get tired of being alone?"

He didn’t know what kind of reaction he’d expected.

But Shadow had stayed, hadn’t he?

Stayed long enough to hear it. Long enough to listen. Long enough to leave without pushing Sonic away.

It hadn’t felt like rejection. It hadn’t even felt cold.

It had just… been quiet. Like the kind of silence you leave behind when you’re trying not to shake something loose in yourself.

Sonic sighed.

He tilted his head back, eyes shut against the sky. His body rocked faintly with the breeze.

The hill behind him crunched.

He didn’t flinch.

He knew those footsteps.

Sonic opened one eye, gaze trailing to the side without lifting his head.

Shadow stood halfway down the slope. Not tense. Not guarded. Not anything like he used to be. He wasn’t even looking directly at Sonic — more at the trees, the view, the sky. His arms were at his sides. His mouth in a neutral line.

Sonic blinked. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

Shadow’s head tilted, only slightly.

"You’re not very hard to find," he said simply.

Sonic snorted under his breath. “I try to be, sometimes.”

That earned him a faint breath of amusement. Not a laugh, but close enough that Sonic sat up straighter, brow arched. “Was that a chuckle? From the great Shadow the Hedgehog himself?”

Shadow gave him a look. Flat. Dry. “No.”

“…Right.”

But his tone had softened. His stance wasn’t closed off.

That was something.

“Sit with me?” Sonic asked, without looking over this time.

The words weren’t pushy. They didn’t ask for anything more than what they were.

Just a choice.

A space.

A quiet place held open.

Shadow stood still a moment longer.

Then—without a word—he crossed the last stretch of hill and sat beside him. Not close. Not far. Just there.

Sonic didn’t speak right away.

Neither did Shadow.

The wind moved around them. The cliffs below rustled with life. Somewhere distant, the faint hum of other voices carried from town — but only barely.

Sonic glanced sideways.

Shadow’s eyes were open, but unfocused. Not avoiding, just… thinking.

He looked calmer today. Less on-edge. But Sonic could still feel the tension, wound like wire beneath the surface.

He didn’t pry.

Didn’t nudge.

Instead, after a long pause, he said:

“You don’t have to talk about anything.”

Shadow didn’t answer.

“…But you could,” Sonic added. “If you wanted to.”

Another pause.

The wind tugged at the ends of Shadow’s fur. He looked like he might not respond at all.

But then, softly:

“…Why?”

Sonic looked at him. “Why what?”

“Why would you listen?”

That stopped him for a beat.

Sonic frowned — not out of confusion, but because it really did make sense that Shadow would ask.

He shrugged lightly. “Maybe because nobody should have to carry everything by themselves.”

Shadow’s brow lifted, barely noticeable.

“Even you,” Sonic added, quieter now.

That silence came again — the one that felt like it meant something, even when it didn’t fill the air with noise.

Shadow looked out over the edge again.

“…You don’t know me.”

“I could,” Sonic said, easily. “If you let me.”

Shadow didn’t react to that at first.

But then:

“You’re persistent.”

Sonic smirked. “So I’ve been told.”

The corners of Shadow’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite nothing.

They sat in it again — the stillness, the not-aloneness — for a while longer.

And this time, Shadow didn’t leave.

Chapter Text

The sound of crickets thickened as the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the grass around them shadowed in deepening blue. The quiet had stretched between them, undisturbed since the last words were spoken — So I’ve been told.

Shadow hadn’t moved. Not far, anyway. He’d leaned back slightly, his elbows resting on the slope behind him, posture loose in a way he hadn’t realized was possible when sitting beside someone else. Especially him. Especially Sonic.

The other hedgehog was still near. Close enough that Shadow could feel the warmth radiating from him in soft pulses through the gentle space between them. Close enough to hear him shift now and again, to pick up the soft drag of fingers against fabric when Sonic adjusted his gloves or ran a hand through his quills. Not fidgeting. Just… there.

Shadow let his eyes drift upward. The stars had started their slow arrival, one after the other. Pale lights flickering through a sky still too blue for darkness, but too far gone for day. A liminal hour. The kind where time didn’t feel quite real. The kind that made it easy to forget the edge he always lived on.

He wasn’t sure why he was still here.

He hadn’t stood when he should’ve. Hadn’t left the moment the last word was said, or when Sonic had fallen silent. He hadn’t even given the usual excuse — some cool brush-off or distant line that would sever the moment cleanly.

Instead, he’d stayed.

And Sonic hadn’t told him to leave.

That fact alone sat uneasily in Shadow’s chest.

His ears twitched — a habit he couldn’t suppress — when he heard Sonic exhale in something like a laugh. Quiet. Private. The kind that didn’t ask to be heard but was anyway.

“What.”

The word left Shadow’s mouth before he could stop it. It wasn’t annoyed. Not sharp. Just… there. Hovering.

Sonic hummed, clearly unbothered. “Nothin’.”

Shadow turned his head slightly, catching Sonic’s profile in the low light. His legs were drawn up now, arms folded across them. His eyes were half-lidded — not tired exactly, but relaxed in a way Shadow wasn’t used to seeing on anyone, let alone him. For a moment, he almost looked—no. He wasn’t going to assign a word to it.

Sonic glanced over. “Didn’t think you’d stay.”

Neither did I, Shadow almost said. But instead, he shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d want me to.”

Sonic tilted his head a little, considering that. Then, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he said, “Maybe I didn’t.”

Shadow didn’t rise to it. It didn’t sound cruel. It sounded like Sonic — playing with tension, diffusing it before it could get too heavy. But Shadow didn’t laugh, didn’t nod, didn’t add anything. He simply looked away again.

The pause stretched. Longer than before.

Then:
“So... do you ever get tired of being alone?”

The question came so quietly, so casually, that Shadow wasn’t sure he’d heard it at first.

But his body reacted before his mind could. His ears twitched again. His spine straightened slightly. The tension curled into his ribs like a reflex hearing that question again.

He didn’t answer.

Sonic didn’t push.

Shadow’s eyes stayed fixed on the far-off hills, darkening with the approaching night. The trees looked almost unreal in the dimness. Shadows among shadows. And somewhere beneath it all, that question still hung in the air, light as breath but heavier than anything.

He wanted to ignore it.

But it stayed.

Shadow drew in a breath, slow and shallow.

“Sometimes,” he said.

That was all.

He didn’t turn to look at Sonic. Didn’t try to see how he took the answer. Didn’t explain. It was a word meant to stand alone. No attachments. No elaboration. Just enough to acknowledge that he’d heard it — that he was still here.

To his surprise, Sonic nodded, like that was good enough.

And they sat like that for a while longer. Not speaking. Not shifting. Just… existing beside one another.

As if it had been this way before.
As if it might be again.

The air cooled with every minute. Summer still clung to the earth, but nightfall brought its own hush — a whisper through the trees, a gentler rhythm over the hills. The kind of stillness that invited reflection. Or ruin.

Shadow didn’t like reflection. Not really. But sitting here beside Sonic — not speaking, not moving — he found his mind drifting in spite of himself. Thoughts looping back to the question he hadn’t wanted to answer.

Do you ever get tired of being alone?

Sometimes.
That had been the truth. A small, stripped-down truth that surprised even him.

He was used to solitude. Had crafted it like armor over the years, carved distance into his day-to-day until it became the only rhythm he knew. He told himself it was better that way. Cleaner. Safer. No ties. No expectations.

But here he was — still on this hill, still next to someone who didn’t seem to need him to say more.

Sonic hadn’t said anything since. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t followed up with a joke or a dig or a follow-up question like most would. That was what kept getting under Shadow’s skin, in ways he couldn’t define. Sonic wasn’t prying — he was just being.

And that, somehow, was worse.

Shadow shifted slightly, pulling one knee up and resting an arm over it. “You come here a lot?”

It wasn’t a real question. He already knew the answer. Sonic had been here just yesterday. And the day before that. And maybe even before that, if Shadow’s silent watching was anything to go by. Still, it was a way to ease the rising quiet. A way to remind himself that he could still control what was said between them.

Sonic gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. “Mm. Sometimes. Not ‘cause it’s special or anything. Just… it’s quiet.”

Shadow nodded faintly, more to himself than anything. He understood that kind of reasoning. Some places didn’t need a reason. They just pulled at you. Like a memory you hadn’t made yet.

The stars above were sharper now. Clearer. One by one, constellations began to take form. Not that Shadow knew any of them by name. He just watched them gather. Steady. Silent.

Sonic leaned back again, mirroring him a little. His arms folded behind his head this time, gaze angled upward.

“I used to think stillness meant something was wrong,” he said after a while. “Like… if I wasn’t doing anything, then something had to be missing.”

Shadow glanced at him.

“But now… I dunno. I think I just didn’t know what to do with it. With quiet. With—” Sonic paused, searching for the word, “—with still.”

The word hung there like an echo.

Shadow’s gaze returned to the sky.

“Still doesn’t mean stuck,” he said softly.

Sonic glanced at him. “That something you believe?”

“No.” Shadow’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s something I’m trying to.”

That earned a quiet exhale from Sonic. Not quite laughter. Not quite agreement.

They fell into silence again, but this one felt different — shared now, rather than separate.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

And then, just as Shadow began to think they might finally part ways, Sonic spoke again. His voice low. Measured.

“I used to think you hated me.”

Shadow didn’t react. Not visibly. But his fingers curled slightly against his leg.

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Didn’t?”

Shadow’s eyes stayed forward. “No.”

Sonic didn’t press. Not this time.

And maybe that was why Shadow added, more quietly, “You were just… loud.”

That earned a laugh. Real, this time. Short and bright.

“Well, yeah. You’ve met me.”

Shadow finally turned toward him then. Just a little. Just enough to see the light curve of Sonic’s grin — smaller than usual, more subdued, but still unmistakably him.

And in that moment, Shadow felt something tug at the edge of him. Something strange. Foreign.

Not annoyance. Not exasperation. Not even the reluctant tolerance he used to chalk up as progress.

No — this was different.

This was something gentler.
Something dangerously close to comfort.

He looked away again.

Sonic shifted beside him, stretching his legs out and letting one heel dig lazily into the grass.

“You’re still here,” he said softly.

“So are you.”

Sonic shrugged, smiling at the stars now. “Guess neither of us has good exit timing.”

Shadow didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

They both already knew.

The wind moved differently as the night deepened. Slower. Cooler. It slipped through the trees and down the hillside like a breath being drawn — held — then let out again.

Shadow heard it, felt it, and stayed exactly where he was.

Beside him, Sonic hadn’t moved either. Not for several minutes. Maybe more. It was hard to tell how long it had been now — time had a way of softening when no one was rushing to fill the silence.

Shadow didn’t do this. He didn’t sit next to someone this long, didn’t linger after his thoughts had already calmed. But he stayed. Something about this didn’t feel like waiting. It just felt… quiet. And strangely unthreatening.

He hadn’t felt that in years.

Sonic’s voice broke the stillness again. “You ever think about just… disappearing?”

Shadow looked over at him slowly.

Sonic’s expression wasn’t casual. Not heavy, either. He wasn’t being dramatic — just honest in that way he only ever got when things around him slowed down enough for honesty to surface.

“Not forever,” Sonic added quickly. “Just… pulling back. No expectations. No one needing anything from you. No pressure to be anything, or fix anything, or be ‘on’ all the time.”

Shadow turned back toward the stars. His voice was soft when it came. “I already did that.”

“...Yeah,” Sonic murmured. “I guess you did.”

Shadow didn’t explain. He didn’t need to. The years spoke for themselves.

A beat passed before Sonic shifted again. His voice came quieter this time — almost an echo of the one Shadow had heard yesterday.

“I’m not really sure what I’d be if I slowed down.”

Shadow glanced at him again. Sonic’s legs were bent again, his arms lazily slung around his knees. He looked distant. Not lost — just… searching.

“I think I’ve always been moving to avoid something. Not that I knew it. Just felt like… if I kept running, nothing could catch up.”

Shadow didn’t speak. He just watched him.

Sonic turned toward him slightly. “And now you’re here. And I’m here. And we’re not really doing anything. And it’s fine, somehow. But I keep wondering when that’s gonna change.”

“Why would it?”

Sonic blinked at him. “Because things always change.”

“Maybe.” Shadow’s gaze didn’t shift. “But not everything ends.”

Sonic stared for a second longer before dropping his eyes back to his knees.

“...You say that like you believe it.”

“I don’t.” Shadow paused. “But you do.”

Sonic let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Do I?”

“You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

That silenced them both.

And then Sonic gave the faintest smile. “You’re… hard to read, y’know.”

“I prefer it that way.”

“Bet you do.”

Shadow let his hands rest in the grass behind him. The cool earth against his gloves grounded him more than it should’ve. He didn’t like being grounded. It made him too aware of how long he’d been drifting.

And Sonic — Sonic had a way of making people remember the weight of that drift.

A moment passed. Then another.

And then, to Shadow’s surprise, Sonic asked quietly, “What made you stay?”

Shadow blinked.

Sonic didn’t look at him. “Here, I mean. Tonight. You could’ve left. Could’ve vanished like always. But you didn’t.”

Shadow didn’t answer right away.

The truth itched at the back of his throat. Something that felt like reason, like clarity — but wrapped in too many layers to name.

He thought about the question. About the silence between it. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t even a full answer.

“Something felt different.”

Sonic looked over at him. He didn’t ask what.

He didn’t have to.

Shadow didn’t even look back — but the weight of Sonic’s gaze lingered, soft and searching.

Neither of them said anything more for a long while.

Eventually, Sonic leaned back again and closed his eyes, arms behind his head, like sleep might come if he just got still enough. But Shadow knew he wouldn’t. Not yet.

Shadow remained sitting upright, one knee up, the other leg stretched forward.

Their bodies didn’t touch.
But the distance between them had changed.

Not physically. Not in inches.
But in something deeper. Something real.

Shadow didn’t know what that meant yet.

But he was still here.

And Sonic… was too.

The night pressed in with a softness that neither of them seemed in a rush to break.

The crickets had returned, threading their thin lullabies through the grass. A breeze came again — gentler this time — and Shadow caught the way Sonic’s fur shifted slightly with it. Messy. Careless. Like he hadn’t noticed.

Shadow did.

He looked away.

Sonic hadn’t spoken again since he laid back, and that surprised Shadow. He’d expected something — a joke, a comment, some tired thought offered without weight. But Sonic was still. Awake, but not restless.

The quiet should’ve been unnerving.

It wasn’t.

Shadow shifted slightly, letting his weight fall back on both arms now, boots planted firm in the grass. The earth here was warm beneath the surface. Still holding onto the day, as if it couldn’t quite let go of the sun.

He glanced at Sonic. “You’re not what I expected.”

Sonic didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah?” he said, voice low. “What’d you expect?”

“Someone louder.”

A smile tugged at Sonic’s mouth. “You just caught me on a quiet streak.”

“Seems to be a long one.”

Sonic cracked one eye open. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.” Shadow turned back toward the treeline. “Just an observation.”

“Guess that makes two of us.”

A pause.

“...You’re not what I expected either,” Sonic said finally.

Shadow didn’t react.

“I thought you’d be colder,” Sonic added. “More… closed off.”

“You mean I’m not?”

“No. You are.” Sonic grinned slightly. “But not in the way that counts.”

Shadow wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So he didn’t. He just let the breeze drift past again.

They stayed like that for a while longer — not talking, not rushing — until eventually Sonic sat up again, arms wrapped loosely around his legs, and tilted his head toward Shadow.

“Do you think this is weird?”

Shadow looked at him. “What.”

“This,” Sonic said simply, motioning between them. “Us. Sitting out here. Talking like this.”

“No.”

Sonic raised a brow. “No?”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Shadow said. “Unexpected. Unfamiliar. But not strange.”

“Huh.” Sonic looked forward again. “I’ve had nights where I couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds. Couldn’t stand being alone. Couldn’t handle company either. I don’t know what this is yet, but… it’s easier. Being here with you.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Not because he was uncomfortable.
Because he wasn’t.

And that unsettled him more.

He leaned forward again, resting his arms loosely on his knees. His voice came quieter than before. “Do you want this to happen again?”

Sonic blinked. “Huh?”

“This. Talking. Sitting out here.”

Sonic considered. Then: “Yeah. I think I do.”

Shadow didn’t look at him, but he nodded once.

And that was enough.

The moon had shifted higher now — silvering the slope in a way that made the trees shimmer slightly. It was getting later. The kind of late where most of the world had given itself over to sleep. But neither of them moved.

Eventually, Sonic stood. Not abruptly. Not with that restless burst of energy he so often carried. Just quiet motion — a soft rise, like he didn’t want to end anything too soon.

Shadow stood too.

For a second, they just stood there side by side, facing the treeline — shoulder to shoulder, but still apart. And when Sonic turned slightly toward him, Shadow met his gaze directly.

“…See you again?” Sonic asked.

Shadow hesitated.

Then: “Yeah.”

A beat.

Then Sonic smiled, small and real. “Cool.”

And just like that, he turned and jogged down the slope, vanishing between trees without a sound.

Shadow stayed a moment longer.

The air had changed again — quieter, heavier with absence.

But the stillness wasn’t empty.
Not anymore.

Shadow closed his eyes briefly and breathed in.

Then he turned and walked the other way — into the dark, but not alone.