This is Vending Machine Rings, a real-life Sonic AU fanfiction. Think Wreck-it-Ralph, but… gayer.

There will be multiple yaoi pairings in this fanfiction – if one of them is your NOTP, I'll be putting which couple is doing the do in that particular chapter. Right now I am thinking that the pairings will be Sontails, Sonadow, and Sonilver, but I am open to suggestions for any pairings (yes, het and yuri are good too). The aforementioned pairing ARE set in stone and will NOT change, but if enough people want another pairing, I am VERY open to suggestion.

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of suicide and language.

2014

FOR THE GOOD OF THE COMPANY

August 12th

Everything was molasses.

Time oozed like molasses, the bed was sticky and uncomfortable like molasses – even the air was hot and thick and slow like the accursed substance.

He hated molasses.

At first, Sonic was just going to use sleeping pills, but then his death would be just as slow and boring as molasses, and Sonic wanted to go out with a bang. Figuratively. A gun would work, but that meant hassle and gross shit for the cleanup crew, and Sonic didn't want to make anyone's lives any harder than they already were. He had already done that, and was doing that just by living, so death should at least be somewhat convenient, right?

On the latest trip back to Japan, Sonic had made sure to pack a Genesis controller, plus its cord. He thought it would be a nice, poignant touch. No need for a note if he used the controller.

Sonic found his hands were shaking as he tied the black cord into a hangman's knot – a strange occurrence. It wasn't as if he had never tried this before. Perhaps this time, it would work. Harder to save someone from the knot than the pills. Then Tails could take over. Or Shadow, maybe. Definitely Shadow.

Sonic finished the knot, placing the cord and controller on the desk and looking around for a chair of some sort. There was a rolling one by a desk, but that wouldn't work, because he'd probably fall off the fucking thing before he could attach the cord to the ceiling and break his legs or some shit. That'd be useless.

His phone buzzed.

Sonic cursed under his breath, checking his phone. Mario? What the hell did he want? The smug Italian shithead knew that Sonic hated him to his very soul. He wasn't sure why. Originally, it was some kind of glorious war, the 90's battle of the consoles. Now, it was just pure spite that kept the fire raging in his stomach every time he even caught a whiff of that stupid porn-star moustache.

The teenage boy slammed the phone against the desk with an unusual lack of heart. Now was no time to reminisce about the past.