AN: Contains heavily implied sexual themes and Sonadow. If this is not your thing, I suggest you press the back button :D
This is basically a one-shot, inspired by'I'm Not the One - 3OH!3'. This song stood out to me on the album and somehow my mind shaped it into this strange one-shot. Basically, this is pretty experimental writing and unusual use of first person. I would love some feedback! :)
Enjoy!
Flashing fluorescent lights. Bodies curling in a fever as the music pounds through the floor.
We're sitting, staring into glass at the bar. The liquid seems to disappear before my eyes. I don't remember drinking it at all.
He looks at me curiously; red veins curl towards his vivid emerald eyes and threaten to take over the light. I have to stare, because I can't remember how he looked before.
'What's the time?' he mutters, curling his gloved fingertips around my ear. The music is loud, but I always manage to catch his voice. It used to be so energetic. Loud and triumphant through the crowded room.
Now it barely qualifies as a whisper.
'Around midnight,' I say quietly, trying to turn away from those eyes. My head doesn't want to move.
I really didn't plan on drinking this much.
He slides his hand back to the cup, looking almost hurt. I wasn't sure how to respond to him anymore. We used to laugh together and go out to dance. We used to make fun of the people who needed a drink to live through the night.
His eyes used to be white and green.
A pretty hedgehog girl slides beside him and offers him a cigarette. For a second, he glances over to me. I can see the hurt expression again. I've been drinking – I'm not like this normally. At least that's what I'll say.
When he accepts her offer, I can see a challenge in his eyes.
'Stop me,' he thinks.
I'm still staring. I can't help it. It all started here, in the same bar. Sonic was too young to be in there. The club owner didn't care. He said something about convenient celebrity and pulled him on through.
I remember him saying he just wanted to dance, just to see what it felt like.
Looking at him now, it's so easy to forget who he used to be. Hand wrapped around a glass, smoke between his fingers. Legally, he's allowed here now, but I wouldn't believe it. I guess that's what's pulling me back now. He has the choice now. I'm not supposed to be protecting him, here. He can take this game as far as he wants to.
He turns his back to me to talk to the girl and I can't really bring myself to stop him.
One time he ended up in hospital. Sonic made his way to the club without me and got into a fight with someone. Uncoordinated, irrational and drunk, Sonic managed to get beat up pretty badly. Sonic couldn't remember a thing. So, naturally, I took the blame for what happened to him. Regardless of what I said, nobody at the hospital would let me see him. I was turned away from his room about a thousand times. His friends all had it in for me, saying that I was a bad influence. It was a little bit teenage, but I didn't blame them. Who else could've lead the golden boy astray?
Sonic said nothing to disagree with them, but kept up the same behaviour once he was released. Every few nights, he'd turn up at my door ready to go 'dancing'. I told myself that something would happen if I didn't go with him. He'd get in some stupid fight. He'd wake up and everyone would be pointing the finger. The blue blur wouldn't remember a thing about it, but he'd remember seeing me. Everyone would jump to their conclusions.
Not going to lie, this is the least of my worries. I just want to be around him.
He turns to me, putting out the stub of the cigarette carefully against the bar. It's an expensive, Agarwood bar and nobody says a word about it. I'm staring at the empty glass, wondering just where it all goes. He stands up, scanning his eyes over me. Slowly, he shakes his head.
'Get a hold of yourself,' he laughs, pulling the girl beside him by the hand.
I see a small flash of blue as he disappears into the crowd.
Carefully, I make my way through the crowd towards the front door. I can't stand another minute in this room with the heat pouring through my fur and covering me in this ailing, heavy sweat. I need air.
Stepping outside, I smell the same sick heat that I felt inside. Cool air whips against my skin as I walk, but it may as well be flames when my mind is heavy with liquor. I can barely feel the movement in my legs as I walk.
'Hey, wait!' a voice calls, running a dose of that hot guilt through my spine.
I wasn't meant to leave him.
I turned around slowly; surveying the matted blue fur and the bruises from a few falls he had last week. I remember pulling him up the stairs. He clung to my fur so tightly it hurt. When we were inside, he didn't let go. Not for a long time.
He's hesitating, waiting for me to talk first. Those thin, muscular legs stalk towards me. Filling the space I left between us. He smells like smoke. I breathe it in as his face inches closer, breathing me in too.
'I love you,' he sighs.
Before I know it, I can feel anger bubbling through my thoughts.
'Why is it you can only say that with a stomach full of alcohol?' I spat.
His sweet, bloodshot eyes widen, pulling his face away as if he had been burnt. I only move closer.
'Look at you,' my voice thunders through the streets.
He shakes his head, dazed by my sudden outburst. Suddenly, I'm just as confused as he is. This is my fault, not his.
'Look at what I've done to you.'
He's sipping my poison, lying in the bed I made. This isn't fair.
I turn around and start to run, not caring about the people I push through. I can hear him following behind me, but that's just the problem, isn't it?
He's just been following me all along.
'Shadow, fuck, I can't run like this! Will you just wait?' he calls, clumsily following me down the streets to my house. He stumbles a few times and I feel guiltier than before.
Eventually, we reach my house and I walk in without turning back. Almost eagerly, Sonic follows, closing the door and leaning against it.
'Talk to me,' he says, digging his stare into my back.
I try to say all that's on my mind.
I've ruined everything.
Why are you still hanging around here anyway?
Do you really love me?
It's probably too late…
I'll just keep hurting you.
I don't deserve you.
'What?' he says quietly, reaching a hand out to touch mine. I can't help flinching. I said that out loud?
'Yes, you did,' Sonic mumbles, twisting his fingertips over my ear, just like before.
I look up into his eyes. The ruby red veins are just as prominent as before, but there is a small light to his gaze.
'This has gone too far,' I choke, not realising that tears were spilling out of the corners of my eyes.
Mine were probably twice as red as his.
He grunts in agreement, wiping away the teardrops with his thumbs. Almost in slow motion, he inches toward my face, brushing his lips with my own.
'What's been up with you lately?' I say quietly, uncharacteristically and curiously.
Still, I manage to sound as though I'm asking the weather.
'I don't know, it was just like you said – things just… went too far.'
I can hear his voice getting lighter, turning into the happy sound I remember. Still, he speaks gently, silky lips tracing my own. Then, with a burst of initiative, he connects them, sending shivers through my chest.
We've kissed a thousand times before, but even now, my stomach feels as though it is filled with a thousand fireflies. I can feel the clumsy gliding tongue against my teeth, but I can barely taste the alcohol anymore.
He just tastes like Sonic; like he used to. Tears still falling, he walks us over to the couch, laying me down against the leather. My fingertips shake just like the first time.
It feels like somebody's flicked a light on in my head. We're tracing over each other, just mapping old territory. I marvel at all the damage this did in a few months. Didn't take long for us to become different people. Then again, with the way we were touching now, it didn't take long to slip right back into the familiar.
My vision is hazy, but he's underneath me now, fidgeting with my chest fur. He's still as intoxicated as ever, lolling his head over the cushions lazily as we touch. He clings to me, as though he is afraid I will leave again.
'Closer. I need you closer,' he whispers, sliding his fingertips up to my ear again.
He doesn't need to tell me twice. I slide right into his skin and we shake and tremble at the feeling; the tight, familiar feeling.
I need this as much as he does.
Naturally, when drunk, things don't last as long as intended. When we're done, we stay curled up in each other and he lets a small tear fall. He understands now, just what was wrong. We stare, touch and talk all through the night.
A weighty headache reminds us in the morning too, just what has to be done.
We're going to fix what we did.