Hiya guys! Still really into that roleplay blog I mentioned before (steadfastspirit) , and I ended up writing this drabble for an ask meme thing. Sonic's backstory is explained in full in the blog, if you have any questions. Takes place between Sonic 2 and CD most probably. Legit curious here, how's this? It's a bit short in many aspects because it was written with the mindset of a drabble, but I'd like to know!
/also no it's not shippy
It's as if the world is in a pact of utter silence, agreed upon to last all the way from sunfall to sunrise. Milky orange skies as warm as the softest blanket to ever be imagines that fade into the inky ebony of the late hours, now more like a tablecloth with pinches of salt carelessly scattered about the surface in an array that looks both messy and not. It's as if every single blinking dot in the horizon has a reason and a cause for their positioning, for their timing in their twinkle, not referring to constellations. It's brash beauty if the young hedgehog has ever seen it, one that is complimented by the other details of the night. The moon high in the sky that creates just enough lighting to give the ambience of complete peace, dim but not dull and not jarring but relaxing. The gentle breeze that ruffles his fur and sways the trees and leaf blades from one side to the next yet only makes its presence known by the sensation of the wind and stray whispers of little importance for decoding. They are soothing, calming; the complete opposite of the young hero currently spectating. Regardless of the clash of styles, his love for the nighttime dwindles little and, in fact, only gets stronger with age. Opposites attract, as they say.
Of course, he would love the view a lot more without the unnecessary downpour that all but blinds him to the sight of nature. Water comes down in thick, heavy droplets and quick succession. No breaks are taken by the clouds, even after hours of this charade now having passed with no signs of slackening. The ground is practically now little more than mud, littered with the occasional crack and fall of small twigs form the now ardently shaking tree branches. That blissfully tranquil breeze is anything but now.
Though he's not close to fond of deep bodies of water, for reasons that he will forever remain quiet about, Sonic does like rain.. in moderation. Small amounts that gently fall and do little more than tickle and refresh you, not these gallons of liquid falling all at once. The first option is one that, for one, allows him to run and appreciate the cool weather further, and unless he wants to add another point to the Floor VS. Sonic's Face chart in the floor's favor, attempting to gain friction on slippery ground is not in his agenda. As luck would have it, today seems to be one of those nights where sleep is hard to find, so the cold and puffy tween is left to his own devices in the small cave he and another are hiding in.
Practically curled into himself, Sonic sits at the far end of the cavern with his arms wrapped around his body, ears pinned back in distaste and pout making his bad mood all the more apparent. Pat pat pat goes his sneaker against the ground in an unconscious manner, the bridge of his muzzle wrinkling. He's never liked nights like these, but at least now he doesn't have to deal with intrusive and uninvited thoughts of past.. events. He's gotten better in that regard, and Sonic is not going to complain about that. He is going to grown at the rain, though.
At least an hour ticks by, he guesses and/or estimates, and still the storm rages on with the strength of a couple thousand horses. Exaggerative young mind or exaggerative grumpy mind, your pick. Sonic isn't made aware of the circle he's treading on the dusty floor until a clap from nature shakes him out of his funk. Head turning to face the entrance, small ears up and leaning forth, the hedgehog manages to catch the bright flash of recognizable lightning. A bolt strikes clean through the dark sky, breaking it in pieces that merge back together in a manner of minutes. It's an endless loop: count to ten, it cracks, and then mends. Thunder come along with the light show, practically forcing any awake person and light sleeper to wake and notice it. Sonic sighs, peeking down as he lifts his shoe to note the track he's left due to his pacing. Looks like the clouds are in an equally bad mood as his–
A squeal breaks Sonic's gaze from the floor, quills bristling out of how sudden a sound it had been. Standing his ground and suddenly in a defensive pose, the youth looks around wildly for a single spin as if expecting a Robotnik bot to leap out and attack. What rusty hinges it must have if it made that noise..!
Yet his suspicions are proven ultimately incorrect, and incredibly so. The source of the noise had not been a mechanical enemy with a severe need for oil, but rather a small fox kit that could have been confused for a ball of cotton with how much his pelt was puffed out. Though, then again, cotton balls aren't golden nor shake.
In his temper tantrum, Sonic had forgotten the fox had been there at all. Call it a bad habit of getting too pent up in his anger, if you can even call not being able to sleep and lacking the view of the stars as something worthy of provoking anger. Now, however, that was out the window and replaced with confusion and what Sonic feels is worry. What had caused the kid to freak out like that? Unless the vulpine has a habit of randomly screaming in his sleep, something has to be going on here. Being far from lacking IQ, the dots are connected with ease and a hypothesis forms in Sonic's head. It had to have been the thunder, what else could it have been with that timing? If it happened to be a nightmare, how convenient that its queue had arrived seconds after the loud explosion.
It's instinct, a driving force that is reading off instructions from some unknown handbook, that which caries Sonic over to stand next to the bundle of yellow fur known as Miles. Probably something left in his brain from his days of hanging out with the Flickies, Flickies of all sizes, shapes and ages. It wasn't an odd occurence to come across a lost infant who had wandered too far from its parents, or another who had a bruise and was wailing for protection. Sonic didn't try to resist his overwhelming need to help back then, and now is still the same case.. until he snaps back from auto-pilot to find himself crouching next to the shaking ball of fluff, reluctance seizing him and locking the blue one in place.
Those had been Flickies. Baby feral animals, in a lot of ways. They had lacked the need to communicate through words, because talking would be useless on either end due to the language barrier put up between English and… Flickie-nese? At any rate, the only thing Sonic had needed to do was hold the distressed animal, hug it, smile, and do whatever he could to help it calm down. It was all body language, at least besides the chirping and squeaking of the Flickies that, honestly, must have come as habit more than anything. Sonic had never uttered a a sentence, a word to any of the animals, unless he used them as a vessel to not feel as LONELY talking to himself. Being a comforting presence and taking action was always more than enough when dealing with them.. But again, Flickies. Not Mobians. Mobians speak. Sonic can speak, but does he want to? No, he doesn't. Toiling the kid around was enough of a challenge for the socially inept hedgehog, is he expected to hold a successful conversation with someone other than himself? He can take on robots and evil scientists and jump from heights that would kill or at least give a heart attack to someone without hesitation. Yet at the idea that he has to interact verbally with the child, he freezes and feels an imaginary zipper shut his mouth closed.
Another crash and booming sound effect to go along with another flash, and once again Miles screeches against his tails, wrapped tightly around his shivering frame. A silence stretches for a few seconds, broken by the most diminutive of.. whimpers? Heart strings pulled and little-kid-soft-spot reached, a small frown shapes its way onto the azure one's features. Impulsively, a gloved hand falls onto the fox's shoulder and gives the smallest of shakes. Sonic doesn't know what he's doing or what he is going to do, but he knows he can't let Miles go on like this if he has the ability to do something about it. That is all his mind (heart?) is telling him, and he obliges, even if he feels somewhat awkward once sapphire eyes meet with his own.
A squeak, a rising of the already fluffy pelt, and Miles jumps back a short hop in surprise. Their eye contact broken in favor of the younger hiding behind his odd extremities once again. Sonic's frown deepens, though now there is a tilting of his head and a small bit of his inner cheek. This is usually not how Flickies react to his advances.. Great, this is already off to a great start. He's scared the kid more now. Though unhappy, and maybe visibly so, the older struggles to keep his discontent to himself. Hopefully reassuringly, he eases an encouraging smile on his muzzle that looks more like a lopsided grin of sorts. He's trying, give his some credit.
Innocence incarnate blinks up, probably after he doesn't feel a change in Sonic's position and is looking as to why. Green keeps its hold on blue for a bit, Sonic hoping his smile makes up for what he's too reclusive to speak. His concern is genuine, but whether that comes across in his off grin..
Another combination of thunder and lightning turns the save white for a split second, but it's enough to send Miles into yet another frenzy. Now clinging to his two tails, he attempts to become an even tighter ball. He's cowering against the wall of stone, shaking his head with big ears twitching as if struck by the lightning outside.
Sonic swallows to keep the groan trying to escape down, with some resemblance of success. He takes a moment to think of how stupid the 'hero' of Earth looks now, not able to say a single word to a kid half his age who certainly needs one or two words of encouragement. The next is used up to hate with a vengeance how useless he is in this situation, and how much he wishes it was the opposite. He can do so many things that everyone praises him for being amazing and incredible, yet comforting someone, helping them get through whatever fear's racking them, is too much? His mouth forms a curled line, ears falling for a flicker of a milisecond before he shakes himself back from too-hard-on-myself town. What is the point in whacking yourself over the head for everything? What is that going to accomplish? Those last couple seconds could have been used to help the fox, and that would have been more productive. Sure, so he's… not very good at talking to strangers, but Miles isn't a stranger.
Weeks, make that months have passed since their team up against Robotnik, and even with the language barrier of sorts, sort of like with the Flickies, Sonic has found himself somewhat fond of the kid. One thing they both have in common is they're both shy in their own ways, and even though the vulpine is rather skittish in comparison to the hedgehog, his kind and cheerful disposition make him a joy to be around. He's clingy, but how can Sonic blame him? He doesn't know what happened to the kit's folks, but he's pretty sure whatever it was didn't have a happy ending. He can understand the grief of losing the people who have been with you through most, if not all, of your life, even though that is totally behind him now. Besides, Miles is a little kid, kids are just.. kids, and kids will be kids. It was a bit of a strain on the older at first, but he can't deny that he hasn't legitimately enjoyed the other's company. How odd a concept it had been at first, that he could have been made to feel better with the presence of another. It is still tough for him to register, but it's starting to compute now. A little bit.
Perhaps it's because of the fox's clear distress that Sonic realizes how much he actually cares about him, how much seeing him upset causes such a reaction from him that he actually acts on it. He's never done that before, even though he's seen people in similar states to Miles before. Yet, barring Flickies, they always had someone to rely on. Family, friends, acquaintances even. Miles had been tossed to the wayside by everyone he merely looked at; he had no one. He was six years old, no one should be homeless and an orphan at such an age. Even if this is unrelated to his background, the kit is still upset and whimpering and he has no one's shoulder to lean against.
Determination sets in, burning searing hot and, for a moment, Sonic forgets his thirteen years of social reclusiveness. He is going to get that fox to feel better if his life depends on it, and he swears to do so. In that moment, the same hand as before takes a gentle hold of Miles' shoulder just as a boom and flash appear again. Just as the child lets out a wail, forcefully slapping his hands against his head, Sonic moves to take a seat next to the fox and, before he can realize it, hugs him. Thoughtless motions becoming fully registered, Sonic stiffens almost immediately, as does Miles. Silence ensues, and neither move an inch.
Sonic's spines are flaring in alarm, ears twitching. Touching someone else feels… so foreign now. How long has it been since…? No, no, don't think about that, now is not the time, it's never the time. All he really cares wants to remember is that it has been a while since he last hugged someone, or was hugged by someone. The feel of another living being within his grasp, fingertips grazing a pelt far too fluffy to be his own.. He doesn't know what to make of it. Should he feel happy, confused, awkward?
Sonic doesn't pull away, however. He is resilient in his attempt at making Miles feel better, and if the thunder and lightning are scaring him, and Sonic has no words to offer, physical protection is the next best thing, right? No time to doubt his lack of judgment, anyhow. He's already gone and done it, now he can only hope he didn't startle the brains out of Miles.
He doesn't know if what the fox does at the next thunder clap is intentional or the actions of a frightened child. A whimper and a shiver runs down the small kit's spine, and as if a button is pushed he all but succumbs to the hug. Small arms wrap around the hedgehog's body, hands grasping at the parts of his back barren of sharp quills as he lets out tremulous noises against the tan chest of the elder.
If the latter thought he had been shocked before, then he has no words to describe what he's feeling at the moment. Initiating the embrace had felt odd, but having it be returned with this much strength renders him completely frozen. Hands go stiff against the back of the fox's head, ears fighting between standing up and twitching to and fro. Repetitive blinks of emerald hues, blink blink blink. Sensory overload has him even holding his breath, his mind trying to analyze and process how it should feel about this because, oh Chaos, it's been years and touch of this proximity feels so alien. His mind, taken aback until it starts to function properly again, simply tells him to idly stroke the other's head, and Sonic does as told. As he starts to ease into the feeling and lets his bunched up muscles relax somewhat, the hero lets out a sigh.
Acting on auto pilot once more, since his brain is still trying to comprehend this, Sonic obtains a better grasp on his companion and hugs him closer. It's subconscious to the highest degree, how he holds the fox kit as if he'd been waiting to do so to anyone bigger than a Flickie. Inside his mind, gears turn and sparks fly as they try to spin as per usual but can't, stuck and attempting to keep going regardless. Three years, and now the information echoes through his head and reverberates in his ears. Three years since he's last hugged anyone like this. The place where he had done so was now a place he wishes not to remember, and the person? She's six feet underground. Ever since that day, he's refused any and all contact with anyone, regardless of how small a touch may come his way. He'll jump back in shock or clam up completely, not wasting time in making distance between who has touched him. He really only has himself to blame for this, then, doesn't he?
He just wanted to be alone after that. He didn't want anyone around, except for sweet freedom and adventure to get his mind out of the terrible place it had been in ever since a year prior to the three years. Sonic just wanted to leave that place and all the bad stuff it was shoving into his mind and make up for the years he wasted away doing nothing. He wanted to not feel trapped in either his misery or the island. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to be happy.
He didn't want anyone seeing him as upset as he was, and he wanted to shake anything and everyone that might hold him back off. Freedom and exploration are all he needs to be happy, surely. It's all he is; his entire being is linked to the wind and it is the one thing he will follow without question. It exhilarates him, it reminds him one of one of the many wonders of life, it makes him feel invincible. Who needs to interact with others like him? He is far too shy, at any rate… right? The reason he doesn't feel entirely happy is simply because he wants to see so much more!
And yet, this hug feels.. good. Warm, welcoming, even under these circumstances and weather. It's.. relaxing, appreciated, needed. Yeah, that's the word. That group of letters and syllables rings in his ears as Sonic clutches the fox closer to himself, letting his eyes fall to a close and a smile wander onto his face. Lightning has struck several times over since Miles returned the embrace, and since he's only hopped in place with every strike. It's a motion that dwindles with time, and eventually he's all but still against his hero. Shaky breaths slowly become those of a peacefully sleeping child, whose tails have wrapped around the two of them in a half conscious attempt to keep out the cold.
Sonic doesn't let go. He instead shifts the younger's body to lay on a better sleeping position; on his side yet still resting his golden head on the hedgehog. The tween lets his chin rest next to one of the fox's ears, holding him close and suddenly not wanting to let go. Once sleep finally starts to make his eyelids heavy, Sonic scoots carefully along the stone floor to sit up against the wall. It would be cold to the touch, if it weren't for the warmth spreading throughout the young hero's body, and not because of the fluffy tail wrapped around him. He hazards a look at the sleeping kit's face, as he sits in a more comfortable position. The kid is smiling. And Sonic smiles back.
In all honesty, he feels more complete than he has for years.