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In the future, long after having passed away, Sonic has been immortalised through stories.
There’s not a single… month or so, Silver figures, that he doesn’t encounter a mention of Sonic in the cities he frequents, and often more than that. People love a tale of heroics and action; they love a tale that stars the person they can thank the world’s peace to even more. Many of the adventures Sonic has been on are talked about, each feat more grandiose than the last: Perfect Chaos, Space Colony ARK, Dark Gaia, the planets of the Wisps… Any lull in a conversation or a slow day can be spiced up by a mere mention of Sonic, and all the good he did for everyone.
And, Silver does have to admit that the contents of those myths and legends and tales and stories are mostly accurate. They speak of Sonic’s heroism, his kindness, his indomitable will and never-say-die attitude, and how he could turn any wrong situation right again. Silver has seen it with his own eyes too, how Sonic merely existing somewhere will turn everything okay somehow.
What’s less accurate is that those are the only things the stories talk about.
It’d taken Silver a story or two to notice, but once he had, he can’t stop seeing it everywhere. Nobody ever mentions that Sonic’s a goofball through and through, for example. Or how he can be found napping or reading a book just as much as running like a reckless idiot all over the planet in search for adventure. Or that he makes bad jokes and throws thumbs-ups and fist bumps around like candy and got a smile like the sun. No, the stories are only ever about the big things. The epic things. The reason why the world could continue to exist to this day, despite all the hardships that evil wrought upon it.
The things that make Sonic Sonic, absolutely, but…
Incomplete.
And nobody listens to Silver when he points out the parts everyone misses in their stories. “Well, of course he sleeps,” is the general response when Silver huffs about how lazy Sonic can be, or: “I mean, I guess he’d make a joke every once in a while?” when Silver grouses about Sonic’s silly nature. Every time the psychic insists on talking about the real Sonic, he gets brushed off, and every time it makes him so angry he can only see red. How can Sonic be appreciated for who he is when people don’t know who he is?! It’s maddening.
As is Sonic himself, whenever Silver visits him in the past.
Today, the speedster lays sprawled out over Tails’ couch like he does far more often, legs dangling in the air from where they are propped up over the armrest and one hand hanging to the ground as well. A book lays flat on his face, as his snores fill the air alongside the quiet crackling of the fireplace, flames colouring the room a soft orange.
Silver pensively studies the scene from where he’s floating, in a corner of the room. Sonic’s acting precisely like how nobody in the future could ever imagine he would… and yet he is. And he does it a lot on top. And yet, how he normally behaves when not saving the world goes wholly untold in Silver’s era.
And Silver just can’t figure out why not, though a hum of: “You’re staring,” breaks his concentration.
“I am,” the psychic agrees, as Sonic’s lumbering form shifts. That hanging hand comes up and picks the book off Sonic’s face, unveiling his gorgeous emerald eyes. Not a single myth and legend about Sonic mentions those eyes of his either, Silver grouses inwardly from where he gets beheld with a grin.
“What for?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Heh. ‘Bout what?”
“You.” With a hum Silver floats over, the warmth of the fire washing over him like a gentle blanket. No wonder Sonic looks so cosy on the couch. “Because it doesn’t make sense to me! You don’t always look like a hero or act like a hero and the amount of times you saved the entire world are finite. But in my era, you’re only remembered for those, and nothing else.”
His words earn him a snort and a grin. “I think people are more interested in the big adventures than the quiet day-to-day,” Sonic winks, book shut and carelessly flung onto a nearby chair, and not a single story in the future mentions he does that, too. “It doesn’t make an epic tale to talk about someone laying on the couch and sleeping after reading a book.”
“Yeah, but…!”
With a wild gesture Silver tenses. His thoughts, he’s gotta put them in order for Sonic… “Even if you don’t always look like one or act like one,” he thus mulls out word after word, “you... are. Because whenever it matters, you come through. And you do it marvellously! But the people from my era only know that part of you, even though… there’s just so much more.”
Silver’s mood sours immediately again. Only Sonic’s epic feats are remembered; moments like this, where Silver sinks onto the ground beside the couch and leans against it while Sonic turns onto his side and listens in the way only Sonic can, are moments nobody ever talks about. Nor does anyone ever talk about how quietly he breathes as Silver talks, how attentively his ears perk up, or how he can smile so adoringly. “Every time I try to tell them about everything else you are, they don’t believe me!” the psychic spits out, arms crossing. After all, everyone tends to be pretty disparaging about Silver talking about everything Sonic is, not just the idealised parts. “But I want them to know those sides of you too!”
Tender fingers take to trailing past Silver’s ears. “Why?”
...That makes the psychic blink, slowly. It’s definitely important to him, but why indeed? “Because you… as in, who you are, are not only a brave hero,” he ponders, every word accentuated with a gentle brush over his fur. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t laze about and read books and make bad jokes. It’s everything together that makes you you, and that’s what I like about you. I want everyone else to like that about you as well, not only the heroically mythical parts.”
With a deep sigh Silver presses his head against Sonic’s touches more insistingly. If only people could also talk about that sparkle in Sonic’s eyes, and how his cheeks move as his lips twitch up, and how soft his hands are in their movements. “You know,” the speedster murmurs out as Silver twists his head just so, “I don’t care about what the people of your era think of me. Or this era, for that matter.”
Silver blinks, slowly. “Oh.”
“What’s much more important to me is that you are happy.”
“I’d be happier if people actually knew the person they like,” the psychic points out immediately.
...But it’s quite hard to not be happy with how Sonic smiles at him. The speedster chuckles as he leans closer, Silver purring back softly as their noses brush together. And the realisation that he maybe doesn’t want the people of his era to know about moments like these takes mere seconds to follow: this is just between him and Sonic, quiet tenderness and affection shared between their two souls. The heat of the fireplace makes Silver yawn, stifled with his lips pursed together, as Sonic laughs…
“Don’t worry about what other people see me as. They’ll see what they want to see anyway. And in your era, that’s this epically cool guy who saved the world a bunch of times. Someone you learn about in the history books and that you maybe feel grateful towards and think they’re very neat, but not much else. A concept, not a person,” the speedster smiles. “What matters to me is that I do what I like. And if that’s lazing about on the couch with a very comfortable psychic blanket covering me, it’s more than okay for me that nobody in the future talks about… well, that, basically.”
Psychic blanket… With a flick of his ears Silver locates the basket with blankets in question, one picked up with ease and draped over Sonic’s body. “Here you go.”
“Heh. I meant something else,” gets grinned his way. Sonic’s hand trails down over Silver’s head, snuggling against his scruff and giving it a gentle jostle. Nobody knows either that Sonic’s so good at communicating non-verbally, Silver muses as Sonic’s intention strikes him and he scrambles up to curl under the blanket as well, nose pressed into the crook of Sonic’s neck. Or that he’s so warm to huddle against. Or that his fur is softer than silk with spines sturdier than steel.
That there’s so much that’s wonderful about him.
With a content hum Silver lets himself be moved by Sonic’s chest rising and falling with his breaths, a soothing background pattern alongside the warmth of Sonic and the fire as Silver thinks about stories and myths and legends. And as he does, the thought that Sonic’s humbleness and gentle encouragements could never be properly portrayed in a story anyway pops up…
But that just means Silver will work even harder to show Sonic how much he appreciates them all, and in that way, perhaps he can immortalise them into his love instead.