I'm still on haitus, honestly. I wasn't planning on writing anything any time soon. But I was feeling incredibly depressed the other night and needed an outlet, hence the short story.

Disclaimer: Just no. I don't.

Warnings: Depressing, OOC but with good reason, character death.

Sullen emerald eyes watched the sun rising from behind concrete buildings and distant mountains, turning the pale sky brighter and brighter with each passing minute. Instead of marveling at it, like he usually did, a twinge of anger radiated in his chest when the soft sound of birds chirping at dawn made its way into the wind around him, reminding him of all he wished never to see again, and he growled quietly to himself, cursing fate and destiny.

From where he sat amongst the high branches of a distant tree in the forest, he had a perfect view of Station Square, Green Hill and even Emerald Coast. From this very point, he would watch the world in its quietest and most peaceful moments when he would wake at dawn, when the promise of a new day was at its sweetest. From here, he could guard all that he held dear, his family, his friends and his home, and once upon a time such a duty warmed his heart instead of boiling his blood like it was doing then.

The rising fury was pushed back, however, with a stabbing pain in his temple, and he widened his eyes and gasped at the agony that burst and spread through the rest of his body, like a virus, like a parasite, eating at his core and making him bleed from the inside. Although it happened often enough that he was rather used to it, nothing could compare to each burst of anguish that only increased in magnitude, and he bit down on his lower lip, piercing through the flesh in the hopes of keeping himself from crying out like the coward he wish he wasn't.

As quickly as it came, it vanished, but he was still left panting as a cold shiver spread through his body, even though he was already covered with sweat. He took several shuddering breaths, pressing his palms to his head, rubbing at his eyes. A soft, artificial beeping resonated from his left hand, and he extracted the limb from his face to see the communicator he was made to wear by his 'friends' lighting up.

Angrily, without even looking at the name of whoever was calling, he tore the black device from his wrist and crushed it with his right hand, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and euphoria when he felt the metal pierce his glove and skin. Opening his fist, he smiled slightly at the dripping blood, masochistically reveling in the coppery liquid seeping from the open wound, distractedly wondering why he had never marveled at its beauty before then.

Shaking his head, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, the sky becoming a vibrant blue a different shade from his own pelt, and the distant sound of buzzing city life from Station Square as well as the sweet scent of joyful mornings in Green Hill were swept to his senses by the wind he had once loved to run with. Ironic, he thought, that the one thing he relished the most would turn on him, remind him of the blissful life he once had but would never live again.

And yet, his physical body could feel a slight tremor in the ground coming in every few seconds, and the beginning of rising smoke that usually accompanied a persistent, egg-themed doctor made its way through the edge of his vision, getting closer and closer to what was termed civilization, where most people resided in and where damage would cost the most. Literally and figuratively.

He scoffed. Maybe that was why someone had been trying to reach him. Maybe those who knew him had gotten a tip and needed him nearby for the upcoming attack. Maybe the government was going to politely call for his aid in taking down the madman before he could do any real damage to the city and its people. Maybe, most likely, – because that was what it always was – someone, anyone, and everyone wanted him to do what he was known for – be a hero and save them the trouble of having to defend themselves, dumping the responsibility on his shoulders to carry and to carry alone.

Or, even more ironic, it was his 'friends' demanding him to hurry up and just get the fight over with, so they could all go back to their wonderful lives without him around to drag them into 'his' mess and screw-ups.

Too bad for them, he thought, fingering the rope tied to the branch grimly, making sure it was secure and wouldn't give. He wasn't going to be there today to fight and be the hero, nor any other time thereafter. He. Was. Done.

Closing his eyes and steeling his resolve, he pushed himself off the branch, falling.

Later that morning, after a quick battle with Eggman, an alarmed black hedgehog received word from GUN that the doctor's usual nemesis had been reported missing and possibly in danger, and he was assigned the mission to locate him ASAP.

At noon, a concerned orange fox received a phone call from the local hospital, asking if he knew why his registered legal guardian had been missing his appointments, check ups and regular lab tests with his neurologist for the past month.

Later that afternoon, a shocked pink hedgehog was stopped in the local mall by a pharmacy counter girl, who recognized her as a friend of the infamous blue blur and asked if she could tell him that his pre-ordered prescription of the antidepressants had been sitting at their drug store for a month, awaiting his pick-up.

By sunset, a livid red echidna finally broken down the sturdy front door that led to the his blue rival's home, only to find a note stuck to an empty fridge, apologizing for what he was about to do but wishing all his friends well in 'their' following days and years to come.

That evening, after hours of nerve-wracking and desperate searching, they found his body, a strong and sturdy noose wrapped around his thin neck. It was cold to the touch.

Oh, yeah, this is suicide, might I add. I didn't want to put it on the top for two reasons - major spoilers, and another I don't wish to share. Besides, the blue bundle had clinical depression and had no one to turn to because he didn't tell anyone, still trying to protect them. So, still kinda in-character, then?

Yeah, I know, weird, twisted, sick logic. Whatever. I'm still not feeling any better. But thanks for reading.