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It's three AM. It's three AM and Sonic cannot sleep. Trust that he's tried. He's tossed and turned. Kicked his sheets off, pulled them back on.
He's scrolled through his phone, not absorbing any of the information, but just needing something for his hands to do. He's buried his face in Shadow's chest, the other hedgehog has pulled him close in his sleep, barely stirring at Sonic's constant movements.
Nothing helps get rid of that hollow, numbing ache in his chest. He doesn't know why it's there– why now. He had no nightmares, or triggers. No reminders of the past. No scares, No Eggman attacks.
It's just.. one of those nights. Where the weight of emotions Sonic can barely name press down on him. He stares up at the ceiling, counting the scuffs and marks. There's a burn mark from a stray Chaos Spear Shadow had launched at him a couple months ago, after he jump-scared his partner so bad that he spiked up like a pin-cushion. He smiles at the memory, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
All his emotions seem so far away. A dark bundle, deep, deep down, where he can't reach. It leaves this apathetic sadness that defies all logic. He reaches up and massages his chest, as if caressing his heart might comfort him, but naturally, it doesn't work.
He sits up, rubbing his eyes and groaning angrily. He hates this. He hates this stupid feeling. The one that settles in your bones and drags you down until you don't know what to do with yourself.
It makes him want to be reckless, like a little hoglet again. Jump off a cliff, try swimming again. Go provoke Eggman or fight Metal just to feel something. Maybe the physical pain can help remind him that he exists. That he's more than this empty numbness.
But he can't do that. He can't, because he has people who care now. He can't go leaping ravines and picking fights, purposefully getting himself hurt, because he has a kit brother who looks up to him. A kit brother who's already taken after him in that aspect. Hurting himself to feel something. And he can never, ever allow that to happen again.
If he sets a bad example, Tails will think it's fine to seek out that type of comfort. The comfort that, yes, will make you feel things, but will hurt. That will one day go too far and leave irreparable damage.
So instead, he thinks. What– what does he want right now?
Well, he wants to sleep. That's obvious. But that seems like a pretty far goal right now, as he is very wide awake, and his mind is very active.
He wants…comfort. Of some sort. That's easy enough to achieve, his lover is right next to him, and his baby brother is down the hall. He could reach over right now and wake Shadow, and though the dark hedgehog would be slightly annoyed at being bothered, it'd fade as soon as he realised Sonic needed him.
But…with a numb jolt, he realises that he doesn't really want Shadow's comfort right now. Or– he doesn't need Shadow's comfort. His lover is arguably the best at calming him down, making him feel something other than emptiness, but he just…doesn't think Shadow's embrace is what he needs.
Instead, his mind keeps leading him back to something steady. A rock, always immovable, always supportive. He…
He wants Knuckles. He wants his big brother.
Despite the clock on the nightstand reading 3:31 AM, he knows that if he showed up at Knuckles' door right now, he'd be welcomed in. And that thought… makes him feel more than he's felt in hours.
He nods to himself, tiredly swinging his legs off the bed and standing with a yawn. At the shifting, Shadow shuffles, cracking an eye open and humming questioningly. Of course, Shadow would only wake when Sonic leaves the bed, all the tossing from earlier didn't matter to him.
Despite himself, Sonic cracks a real, if extremely small, smile. He leans over the bed, brushing a bare hand over Shadow's forehead. His lover hums again, pushing into it.
"Danger?" Shadow questions, voice tired and mumbly. Sonic shakes his head.
"No. Go back to bed. I'm going out," Sonic soothes. Shadow eyes him, but his exhaustion seems to best him, and he nods, tugging at Sonic's hand until he leans even closer. Shadow presses a messy kiss into Sonic's lips, brief and tired.
"'Kay. Be safe," Shadow mumbles, and allows his red eyes to slip closed again.
Sonic sits beside him for just one moment, stroking his quills until he's sure the hedgehog is asleep. Then, he stands, keeping his footsteps light as he opens his bedroom window and hops out, carefully balancing on the outside window sill to close it behind him.
He jumps down, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he takes off in a sprint. It's not his top speed; nowhere close actually. He'd hate to accidently cause a sonic boom or take the electrical grid out again, but it's still faster than the eye can see. He's a blur over the horizon in seconds, running to the place he last remembered Angel Island being.
Angel Island is a hard place to find. Not only is it a magical floating island in the middle of nowhere, but it moves, making it impossible to truly know where it is without substantial searching.
Luckily, Sonic's the fastest thing alive, and his searching takes merely minutes. He spots the island a bit away from the last place Knuckles said it was, hovering (thankfully) over a forest instead of an ocean.
The next issue arrises. How does Sonic get…up? Usually he's on the Tornado when he visits the island, making their arrival and departure easy, but on the floor, looking up at the bottom of this massive island, he… he realises this may have been stupid.
Maybe he should just go home. Knuckles doesn't need to be disturbed by Sonic in the wee hours of the morning like this. He deserves his rest. The echidna is probably tucked into bed, snoring away as he dreams of grapes and Rouge. Sonic shouldn't bother him.
He could honestly visit any other friend. Amy's doors are always open to him. She's in tune with her emotions, she would be able to help. Rouge would answer if he called, and though she would tease him, she'd wrap him up in her wings and shield him from the world for a moment.
Hell, if he showed up at Tangle and Whisper's doorstep, or the Chaotix's home, they'd welcome him in, no matter the time or day.
But… Gaia, his heart aches at the thought of turning back. He feels pathetic admitting it, but he wants Knuckles. He doesn't want anyone else's comfort. He wants Knuckles to hold him steady, humming an ancient tune that only his mind knows the lyrics to. He wants to bury himself away in the older echidna and trust that Knuckles can chase away the numb sadness weighing him down.
He looks up at the island again, then at the trees in the forest below it. There's a great number of vines hanging off the sides of the island, thick and strong enough to hold Sonic's weight as he climbs it.
And the trees..well, some seem to be tall enough for the plan forming in Sonic's head.
He gears up, tapping his feet a couple times and shaking out his arms, and then he's off. He tucks into a ball, spin-dashing across the trees, going higher and higher until he's ping-ponging between the few tallest trees sticking out of the forest. He builds as much momentum as he can, and when he's about to run out of trees to bounce off, he dashes up towards the closest vine.
To give himself credit, he shoots way higher than he expected. His hand flails, grabbing at the thick, matted together rope of vines, and he clings with his life. He winces as the friction burns his naked palms, cursing the fact that he didn't bother to put on a pair of glove.
Thank Gaia he doesn't fear heights. Or this would've been horrifying. He starts climbing the vines, breaking way too much of a sweat for 3 AM, but the cool night air blows around him, making the vines sway slightly, and he finds that he doesn't mind his situation all that much.
In fact, it gave him a shred of that thrill he'd been longing for. The same want he's been trying to not give into. The same urge that will get him killed one day. The urge for danger, the only thing that helps drown out the numbness entirely.
When he's on the verge of death, he feels electric. He feels fireworks exploding in his chest, tingles through his fingers and up his quills. It reminds him that he's alive. He's a burning flame, despite feeling so cold and devoid of fire.
He thought he could never find that feeling anywhere else. Until Shadow came along. And suddenly, a moment of eye-contact felt like free-diving from a helicopter. A brush of hands like soaring through space. A kiss like an explosion that no one, man or Mobian, could survive being in the centre of.
And Shadow gave it all to him, with the simple action of being alive and by his side.
He tried not to seek those thrills anymore. He had alternatives. Sparring with his friends. Racing his partner. Standing on the wing of the Tornado, knowing that if he were to fall, Tails would swoop down to catch him instantly.
Sometimes, he seeks smaller dangers. Like provoking Amy into wielding her hammer, then running as she tries to squash him like a bug. Or poking fun at Tails' messy fur and watching his ears twitch with fond annoyance.
And, of course, rage baiting Silver was always a fun pastime. It all still gave him that excitement. That happiness, that electricity. But it was controlled. Safer. He knew that his friends would never hurt him, and he knew that they'd rather him come to them instead of…well.. instead of whatever he's doing now.
But, in his defence, he is trying to get to a friend. He's just…going about it in a terrible, inefficient way. He can almost hear Shadow's voice scolding him for his egregious misuse of time. Why he didn't just take the Tornado, he truly doesn't know.
Maybe he needed the run to help himself stay grounded. The Tornado is nice, and very convenient, but she's a bit loud, and he didn't want to risk waking up his family. The hum of the Tornado is also…droning. It's soothing sometimes, after long missions, when they're on their way home. The hum helps them relax into comfortable silence.
But when Sonic's alone, it's mind-numbing. It sends him dissociating so badly that he's misses his destination multiple times when travelling alone. Hence, he tends to run instead of use the Tornado.
He might've skipped past Angel Island entirely, flying off to Gaia knows where until the first rays of sun would bring him back to reality.
No, this was the best choice. Even though his palms are getting ripped up as he pulls himself up the vines.
He's nearly at the top, he can hear the subtle splashing of the lakes and rivers flowing through the island. If he really focuses, he can even hear Chao snoring away in their many gardens littered around Angel Island. His muscles burn with a comforting exhaustion as he hauls himself over the edge of the island, rolling onto the damp grass. He breathes in the clean air of the mini paradise, sinking into the dirt, dead eyes staring up at the vast universe above him.
There's no better place to see the cosmos than Angel Island.
There's no light pollution up here, bar the natural glow of the Master Emerald and the few lights from Knuckles' home, woven into a hillside next to said emerald. Here, constellations and planets are visible for miles.
His eyes lazily trace them, mind too tired to recall the names for each one. He stops at one particular twinkling presence in the sky, though. One he could never forget.
The ARK shines brighter than most the stars around it, almost like a Northern Star for Shadow and the ones who know him. He stares at that one for a bit, trying to see if the sight of the place where his partner was created, tortured and experimented on would bring some sort of emotion from his chest, but alas, nothing wells up.
Sonic sighs, a heavy thing, and pushes himself up from the damp earth. He doesn't run, practically a sin when it comes to Sonic. He strolls, eyes on the sky, taking in his surroundings. The gentle breeze caresses him, drying any remaining sweat from his climb. A couple nocturnal Chao peek out of their gardens, taking their role as the Master Emerald's 'night security' very seriously, but they relax once they recognise the blue hero.
Some even fly forward, landing in his quills and on his shoulders, greeting and cooing at him happily. He cracks a smile at that, fake but kind enough for the Chao to believe him. He holds his hand out, allowing one brave little Chao to land in his injured, dirty palms.
The Chao nuzzles him, then the sphere above it's head spikes up, and turns into a question mark as it's tiny hands prod at the cuts on Sonic's palms. Sonic breathes out a chuckle, gently petting the Chao's head.
"It's nothing, little guy. Don't worry," Sonic lies, because yes, the cuts and bruises hurt like hell. He can usually brush off pain, but a Mobian's hand, and more specifically, palm, is one of the most sensitive areas on their bodies. Sonic usually does stupid actions like that with gloves on. Not on his delicate paw pads.
The Chao doesn't believe him, ball once again spiking up angrily. Sonic rolls his eyes.
"Fine, it hurts a bit. But I'm goin' to Knux place anyway. He'll fix it up, promise." Sonic cannot believe he's negotiating with a Chao right now, but the little creature settles at those words, and he again rolls his eyes.
A chilly breeze blows, and he feels at least a dozen little ones burrowing into all parts of him, hiding from the cold.
"Guys, ya' know Knuckles doesn't like you guys out of your gardens alone at night," Sonic scolds finally. It's not that he doesn't enjoy the little guys' company, he just… he wants Knuckles. Alone. No Chao to entertain or distract them.
Is that selfish of him? Maybe. But this numb sadness is going to kill him unless he gets to his big brother right now.
The Chao complain– of course, living alongside Knuckles has given them quite the attitude– but they comply. They scurry off into the night, holding hands and chattering to each other. Sonic expects the sight to give him some sort of fond feeling, but it just– doesn't.
He sighs and continues, at a faster pace, yet still slow. He doesn't want to run. He doesn't want to do anything.
He can see the light of the Emerald in the distance, along with the warmer yellow of Knuckles' home lights. It makes him want to both speed up and drag his feet more.
What if he knocks and Knuckles doesn't even hear him, and then this entire journey was for nothing. And if he does open the door, what is Sonic meant to say? He doesn't know how to describe whatever he's feeling right now, how can he explain it to someone else?
'Hey so I feel numb and empty but at the same time so full of this overwhelming sadness that I might drown in it and I don't feel alive right now which makes me want to jump off a cliff just to feel something to remind me that I am, indeed, alive.'
He would sound…idiotic.
He has no time to think, either (not that thinking more would've solved his issue, his brain is an overflowing garbage can at the moment), because the Master Emerald blinds him as he parts through the trees, welcoming and comforting to the Chaos Energy user.
And Knuckles' home stands beside it, cosy and alight with warm lamps and lanterns. Sonic takes one more deep breath, and before he can overthink anything, he walks straight up to the door, knocking loudly.
He then…stands there. Waiting. He rocks on his heels, looking around.
He likes Knuckles' house. For a long time, the echidna had no house. The island is his home, and he tended to sleep under the stars in a sleeping bag or old, raggedy mattress. He never cared much for luxury. His homes were the caves and trees, the Master Emerald gave him warmth during the winter seasons.
But… Knuckles always deserves more than he gives himself.
He'd been woken up harshly one night, a sudden rainstorm rolling in and absolutely soaking him and his sleeping supplies. He moved to a cave for the night, still near to the Emerald, but it hadn't been enough.
The next day greeted him with the worst illness he'd ever experienced. He couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep, eat, see. He had called Sonic, not for help, but to guard the Master Emerald until he could open his eyes properly.
And well… Sonic was not putting up with that. He gathered the team (just Amy and Tails at the time) and headed over to take care of him.
They took shifts nursing his fever, feeding him bland, hot soup and helping him when he threw up said soup.
It was the one and only time they'd ever seen Knuckles down like that. And… it scared them. It scared Sonic.
They sat him down, after he'd gotten over is brief, but intense illness, and they told him that a roof over his head was necessary.
Thus, a house was built on Angel Island. It's small—barely anything, really. A little cottage-esque home built into a hill directly next to the Master Emerald, with a window facing the treasure so even when resting, the guardian could carry out his duties.
It's only when Rouge started visiting that he felt the need to expand. Not much, just a guest room and some extra storage, but he was adamant that those were his final changes, and the house was to remain the way it is now forevermore.
Sonic personally liked the smallness of the home. It didn't have much because Knuckles didn't need much. He's a warrior, he learnt to own nothing but the necessities, and Sonic respects it. He just wishes his friend would allow himself more comforts.
Sonic blinks harshly as he hears heavy footsteps, and he's reminded of where he is and what's going on.
The wooden front door is opened gently, the hinges squealing slightly. Knuckles stands in front of him, head tilted curiously, but a stiffness in his body as he waits for an explanation.
Sonic…doesn't speak. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Instead, he blinks pathetically at Knuckles, eyes red-rimmed and tired. Knuckles raises an eyebrow, impatient, but try as he might, Sonic cannot speak.
He just spoke to the Chao! Why are his vocal chords giving up on him now?? He opens his mouth again, trying to force out a sound, but only an incoherent frustrated noise escapes him.
Knuckles studies him for a moment more, taking in Sonic's dishevelled appearance and bare hands. Then, those piercing purple eyes soften, and he steps aside, gesturing inside as an invitation. Sonic hesitates at the threshold of the home, but Knuckles doesn't rush him. He's patient as Sonic slowly (too slowly for a creature of such speed) creeps into the home, acting as if he's un-welcomed in the small, cosy space.
Knuckles closes the door softly behind him, and then a fist is placed on his back, guiding him to the small living room and sitting him down on the couch. He doesn't speak, he just moves around his home with lazy, relaxed steps.
Finally, inside and safe, Sonic truly dissociates. He looks inside himself, reaching for all those hidden emotions, trying to figure out exactly what's happening in his heart. But it's all for naught. He just– he can't figure out why he's feeling this emptiness. This gross, hollow, sad feeling that seems to contradict itself at every corner.
A body sinks onto the couch next to him, and on instinct, he leans in, inhaling the scent of Knuckles.
It's not a particularly nice scent; the echidna smells of sweat more often than not. But since Sonic has caught him at night, supposedly fresh out of bed, he smells more of wood and musk. It's earthy, more-so than anyone he's ever met. But it's so distinctly Knuckles that he finds his body relaxing without his permission.
Knuckles doesn't miss a beat, winding a strong arm around Sonic's shoulder and pulling him in close, tucking the hedgehog into his side. He rests his head on Sonic's, and then he starts humming that pleasant melody that Sonic adores oh so much.
It's ancient; it must have been something Knuckles' own parents sung to him on nights just like this. That thought makes something stir in Sonic's chest. A mix of emotions too complex to unpack. Love and grief for his red companion. Gratefulness that he allows Sonic a glimpse into his lost culture. Longing– he isn't sure what that one's for. Maybe it's a longing on behalf of Knuckles; wishing that he could regain what he's lost.
He turns his face into the red fur, letting out a pathetic whine. It's all too much, yet somehow not enough. How can he feel so much inside his heart yet still have this numbness spreading through him. It's like all the emotions are muffled by a layer of fog, too thick to see through. He knows they're THERE, but Gaia, he cannot reach for them.
Slowly, Knuckles' humming turns to rough, low singing. The language is foreign, even on Knuckles' native tongue. The words come out slightly rough, as if unused, but it's damn near perfect to Sonic. Just the soothing melody and the whispered words and his mind paints a scene of the past.
Young echidnas running around a bonfire, laughing and taking in the warmth on the cold winter nights. The older, wiser tribe members tending to each other in the way family does, helping clip gold jewellery and accessories into each other's quills, brushing dirt from their faces and wrapping calloused hands.
It feels like a song meant for a chorus of voices. Sung together, not with practice or professionalism, but with the soul.
Inexplicably, Sonic feels tears well in his eyes. And, paradoxically, it makes him smile.
Knuckles' larger hands envelop his small ones, and his soft melody stutters at the sight of scratches and scuffs on Sonic's delicate palm. He caresses it, with such gentleness and care, despite the power his hands hold. He stands, and for a moment, Sonic has this childish, instinctual urge to cry. To hold onto Knuckles and demand he stay on the couch. Instead, he watches the echidna go, watching him disappear behind a door and re-emerge seconds later with a medicine kit.
He reclaims his spot, still singing and humming that gorgeous song. He expectedly holds out his hand, waiting for Sonic to lay his injured palms in them. Dutifully, Sonic does, allowing Knuckles to clean and wrap his hands, the same way Sonic imagines those past echidna's did. It chokes him up, and he desperately tries to hold in the tears as Knuckles' warmth seeps into his aching hands.
Knuckles doesn't ask. He waits. He waits for Sonic to speak. If Sonic decides to sit there in silence, Knuckles will sit with him, a steady figure beside him for as long as he needs.
But— Sonic takes a deep breath, leaning deeper into his friend's side.
"Rough night," is all he manages to rasp out. He doesn't know what else to say. But Knuckles just hums, pulling Sonic closer.
"What kinda rough?" Knuckles asks, his voice a deep rumble, sleep still coating his words. One of Sonic's newly bandaged hands clutches at his chest, and he shakes his head, closing his eyes.
"I can't– I can't sleep. I feel empty but—" Sonic stutters through an explanation, but Knuckles doesn't push or force. He sits patiently (a trait you wouldn't normally associate with the knucklehead), nodding along to Sonic's words like they make sense.
"—But it hurts. I'm sad but it's muffled and I can't feel– and– I don't know if I'm alive–" Sonic grits his teeth, subconsciously grabbing at his quills. The need to feel itches at him. The sting from his torn up palms has already faded, and he needs to remind himself he's alive again.
Knuckles' eyes light up in recognition, and gently, oh, so gently, he untangles Sonic's hands from his quills. He holds them tightly in his own— It hurts slightly. He turns on the couch, sitting cross legged to completely face Sonic.
"Blue," He rumbles, leaning forward and thunking his head onto Sonic's. His arms encircle Sonic, pulling him onto his lap. Then, he holds Sonic tightly, allowing the hedgehog to bury his face into his red fur. He squeezes Sonic hard, the pressure a Gaia-sent blessing to Sonic's muddled brain. He can feel Knuckles' heartbeat against his ears, and he latches onto it.
Knuckles hums again, a different, yet equally ancient song of his tribe. This one is gentler. A lullaby of sorts. Instead of the vision before, of the bonfire with laughter and joy entangled into the flames, this one gives Sonic the image of himself, tucking Tails into bed after a thunderstorm. Wrapping the kit in his blankets, smoothing down his forehead fluff and humming some lyric-less song.
It pushes the tears over the threshold. He doesn't sob, or shake– the tears just flow and soak into Knuckles' fur. The pressure of Knuckles' arms around him helps, the feeling of another person breathing next to him, it reminds him that he's here.
Knuckles starts massaging circles into his shoulders, his humming trailing off to instead speak quiet words into Sonic's quills.
"You're alive, Sonic. You don't need pain or agony to remind you of that," Knuckles murmurs. Sonic nods into his chest, huffing out a sad breath.
"I know– I know. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want Shadow or– or Tails or Amy. I wanted you," Sonic admits, "But I didn't take the Tornado– n' when I got here, I didn't know how else to get up other than climbing– and I ended up hurting m'self anyway–" Sonic rambles, shame creeping up his neck and into his cheeks and ears.
Knuckles shushes him kindly, leaning back so that Sonic is practically laying on him, cradled like a child. Sonic should feel embarrassed. He's too old to be coddled like a baby. But.. he'd never been taken care of like this before Knuckles came along. He was always the tough one, the older brother who protected everyone. Even when Amy came along, he played the role of saviour, of hero.
And then Knuckles, with his strength and unexpected kindness, came barrelling into Sonic's life, and he was older and wiser than Sonic had ever been. And Sonic…didn't know what to do with that. It was foreign, to have someone to look up to. He was so accustomed to pushing his desperate need for comfort deep down while he'd let Amy cry into his shoulder, or hold Tails close after a long battle.
Now, to have someone do the same for him? Well, he feels like he owes it to his little self to allow this comfort to happen. That little hedgehog who pulled himself up by his bootstraps and forced himself to keep going amidst the horrors around him. Sonic needs to treat him kindly, because that baby had no one to lean on. No one to hold him through the storms.
So he lets himself be cradled by Knuckles, like a child. He buries his face in the crescent of white fur, and he lets the tears flow. He's not quite sure why he's even crying, but finally, he feels something, and that's enough.
Knuckles is singing again, words in a language no one else in this world understands. It soothes Sonic in a way he truly can't describe. He lets himself fall apart in Knuckles' arms, his hand's stinging from the cuts, but he feels lighter. He doesn't feel empty anymore.
"Thank you," Knuckles whispers, and Sonic stiffens slightly, peeking out from Knuckles' fur to look at his face.
"For-?" Sonic asks, confused. Knuckles smiles at him, a rare, gentle smile that Sonic rarely sees from the echidna.
"For coming to me," Knuckles responds, pressing Sonic closer to him, "for trusting me."
Sonic rests his face on Knuckles' chest, relaxing his body and allowing Knuckles to hold him steady.
"I wanted you. I wanted my big brother," Sonic admits. He doesn't see Knuckles reaction to those words, but he hears the sharp inhale, and he feels the way Knuckles' strong arms tighten around him.
"I've got you, Blue," Knuckles says, his voice slightly choked, "Sleep. I've got you."
Sonic nods, staring blankly at the unpainted wall across from him. Knuckles' home has always felt safe in a different way. Away from society, from Eggman, from fans. From the image of 'Sonic the Hedgehog: Hero of Mobius'
To Knuckles, this was simply his tiny house, built out of necessity. To Sonic, though, it feels like a sanctuary. A place where he can come where he doesn't have to be the strong one.
He lets his eyes slip closed, not quite asleep, but relaxed in a way he hadn't felt all night. Knuckles' hand is heavy and grounding on his back as it combs through his dishevelled quills, and those emotions that were buried deep down in his chest finally bubble up. The hole in his chest no longer feels empty, and he feels weighed down in a good way.
He nuzzles closer to Knuckles, just because he can, and he trusts that when he wakes up tomorrow, his big brother will be there, holding him steady through the storm.