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“Hey.”
“…Just give me a moment.”
The grass grew too tall. Sonic had thought as he walked along it. It tangled up with his boots' laces and left bits of skinny green on the russet shafts. While the growth made the walk there tedious, the moisture was what the hedgehog was really worried about, having slipped earlier.
Each step felt more onerous than it had to be.
Or maybe it’s the boots.
His gaze drifted down to the footwear at the ends of his crossed legs. Maybe he really should’ve turned down Amy’s request to bring them. But with how wet the terrain had been moments ago… maybe not.
The soil a few moments ago, that is, was very much dewy. Despite that, here he and he was, seated on arid green.
It might've been the buildup of chaos energy he left lingering behind wherever he went — though that suggested he'd been here often.
That wasn’t like him. It wasn't like him to stay at one place for long.
“Aren’t you going to say something?”
Fleetway’s warped voice cut Sonic’s train of thought short. In his search for an actual topic, he’d gotten lost in his own head. His eyes lifted from his boots and finally settled on the other hedgehog.
Fleetway looked unusual. For him, this was the norm—unusual. Cluttered aureate quills, sharp fangs jutting out, coiling red pupils—if you could call them that—pirouetting endlessly. Nothing out of the ordinary. For him.
What was unusual was how faint his glow was. How still he sat. How dull everything about him felt. To anyone else, calling Fleetway dull would’ve been absurd. But Sonic couldn’t reconcile the hedgehog in front of him with the chaotic construct from months ago.
“Quit staring at me like that, you fucktard.”
Fleetway’s muzzle wrinkled as he scowled, ears flattening as Sonic gawked at him like roadkill on a sidewalk.
“What? Is it making you uncomfortable, Fleety?”
Sonic couldn’t help but tease, grinning like an idiot as Fleetway visibly puffed up, sharp claws twitching with the urge to tear.
“I could still push you off, you know.”
“Will you?”
The glowing hedgehog replied to this with a dragged out growl and a clench of the hands. A gesture that did the trick well enough to make Sonic raise his own in a placating gesture.
“Alright, alright. I get it. No need to get all vexed.”
“Shut it.”
Sonic didn't feel like shutting up, in fact, he had that sudden urge to act more annoying on purpose, the sudden, horrible urge to keep talking.
“You bring me all the way out here just to sit in silence? Pff. Since when’d you become a bore?”
Fleetway glared daggers into his counterpart for a second or two before turning his attention ahead, his voice quieter and more coherent.
“Obviously not, prick. I’m trying to—”
“Open up to me? Couldn’t find a less generic place than some hill?”
“I don’t like thinking about pointless stuff like that.”
Sonic snorted, earning an agitated snarl.
“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I could really kill you.”
“…You know, before, you were less bark and a lot more bite.”
Fleetway didn't respond to that, not right away at least, keeping a blank expression as he gazed down from the hill ahead. Sonic followed his counterpart's line of sight.
Suddenly, it became clear why Fleetway came back here so often.
It really was beautiful.
The hill rolled under them, its green dimmed by the passing light and vibrant colours of the rainbow above that arced faintly through the thin air. From how high the two hedgehogs were, the earth spread herself out gradually — thick rivers belittled to silver strands, roads to monotone scars, villages to subtle clusters that looked so small. So fragile when seen all at once. The honey basked sun hung low, brilliant but far. Its radiance fading as it reaches the ground.
But it looked so small.
Fleetway brought his knees closer to his chest, gaze fixed outward. He didn't blink even once. When Sonic turned his head over at him, he mistook it for the other potentially taking in the beauty, drinking it in, but he then felt like it was something else. A hunch.
“It does look small from up here.”
Fleetway’s ear flicked, but he didn’t turn.
“This what you see whenever you take to the skies, buddy?”
“I can’t fly anymore, Sonic.”
Sonic felt an unpleasant shock run through his body, crackling in and out from his heart. He stared at Fleetway, who was scowling all over again, and couldn't decipher whether it was in embarrassment or annoyance.
Or something else.
“…For real?”
“My humour isn’t as shitty as yours.”
And for the what felt like the hundredth time the past hour, the two sat in silence for a bit, progressing towards the next word.
Sonic eventually looked away, his own ears lowering as he fiddled with the hems of his gloves, unsure of what to really say. Luckily for him, Fleetway opened his own mouth first.
“It does look small, doesn’t it?”
“…That’s what I said.”
“I used to see this every day. Used to.”
His claws dug into his own skin—hard, but never breaking it. Nothing ever could.
“I was above all of this. I could go higher than this stupid hill. Glow brighter than that sun. Burn hotter than it.”
He wasn't drinking any sort of beauty in, he was just measuring it.
“And I’m never going to be able to do it again.”
If Sonic didn't know what to say before, he really had no idea on what to say now. Despite the person next to him literally being himself, he had no idea which words were the right and wrong ones to say.
Fleetway seemed to notice this, eyes spiraling quicker as he turned.
“What? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yeah?”
“Good. I want you to feel bad for me.”
Sonic would've snapped back with something sarcastic or smart, if Fleetway wasn't staring at him with such a miserable expression. It wasn't a face you'd necessarily label miserable at a first glance. But on Fleetway, it was almost pathetic.
He wasn't saying this to be cruel.
“When I die, I want you to feel bad. I want it to hurt that you get to live on when I don’t.”
“Fleet—”
“I don’t want to hear your nonsense about things getting better!”
A clawed finger jabbed into Sonic’s chest.
“I want you to cry. You. Tails. Knuckles. Amy. All of you.”
Fleetway's voice cracked at that last part, which made the golden hedgehog grimace in, what Sonic could tell for sure this time, embarrassment.
After a beat, Sonic snickered.
“Well… I don’t know about sobbing my optics out, but yeah. I’ll cry.”
Fleetway’s eyes stopped spinning for half a second—long enough for Sonic to hook an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer.
Fleetway stiffened, claws twitching, undecided.
Sonic just watched the sun dip out of view, the sky dulling as Fleetway’s faint shimmer stood out against it.
“You satisfied? You’ve officially passed the ‘close-enough-to-cry-over’ threshold for me.”
“…You’re not funny.”
“What do you know about funny? You used to blow up houses.”
“That—” Fleetway sneered as the red rings spun faster. “That is funny!”
“Whatever you say.” Sonic patted him mockingly. “Just… do me a favour, yeah? If you want us crying, try lightening up a bit. Otherwise there won’t be much to mourn.”
Fleetway blinked a few times, tail flicking as he considered it.
“Deal.”
“Good. ’Cause I don’t think you’ve hit the threshold for Knuckles.”
Fleetway rolled his eyes—or Sonic assumed he did.
“Like I care what he thinks.”
“Oh, so you’re Backtrackway now?”
“Go off and die.”