Running Parallel

Part 1

Dinner on the Terrace

Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic, Sally, Tails, or Fiona. Rights go to either SEGA or ARCHIE. Thank you.

Light sways from side to side dispersing more than its typical aura. A breeze makes it shake and fade but the moment the wind steps aside, it returns. It comes back like a boomerang; a child's yo-yo; a ball bouncing up and down. Matter put into motion will stay in motion until another force acts upon it. That was simply a fact.

The candlelight illuminates the circular table turning a normally white lacy cloth laid on top of it into a more golden color. Her bright blue eyes, balancing fear and worry, watch that center table from another duplicate hidden in the corner, hand resting her cheek. Her eyes pirouette; they steal a glance every so often like two performers sashaying on stage; one behind, one in front. 'I don't see you behind me,' the front one says, the star, the naïve center of attention, 'Because I don't want to see you behind me. I don't see the fact you're upstaging me or the fact you have the routine wrong because I'm not looking. I'm pretending I don't care.'

I'm pretending I don't care. I'm pretending I don't care…

Sally Acorn's head repeats the phrase; her eyes scurry back to the menu. It's a hopeless act she's putting on because she always will. To say she didn't care was impossible. It was tearing her. The candle at her table flickers like the one due west of her at that center table. Some of her hair's up and out of her face, the rest is laying back down. There are a few elegant waves; a few forced spirals. Her hair speaks two different languages; there's two different people, two different thoughts. The upper is begging to be elegant and poised vehemently raving its flattering soft curls; the upper is begging to stick to the principles on which she came to. Tonight was undeniably important. Undeniably.

The date had been engraved on her calendar for at least a month now. It was their three year anniversary and the opportunity it'd bring her significant other had rambled about fluently. There was a hint of nervousness in his tone; an unprecedented anxiety. Ever since they had toasted to a ripe twenty-one, he had been like that; so uncertain; so erratic. He bought an apartment on splurge. It was a stylish, modern place; furnished with only the latest fashion. It was artistic; it was chic; it was whatever hip adjective an individual wanted to name it. It lies on the exclusive east side of the city; home to the wealthy; up and coming politicians, celebrities; the city's 'beautiful' people. He himself was perhaps the most beautiful of them all. At twenty-one and a half, he was a very accomplished man; reeking in more profits and benefits for public appearances than any other person she knew. He was the benefit.

Her mind falls back to the table and slyly to the one running parallel to it. She can't explain why she's sitting there alone or why she came so early. His offer to run her there had been roughly but politely refused. "That won't be necessary," she remarked and he unusually put up no debate. There seemed to be some relief in his eyes when she had said that. "I uhh…I have prior arrangements that day, sweetie, but I'll be there waiting for you. I promise." At this point they had taken hands and she had sealed it with a kiss. "…no one ever said we had to be a traditional couple."

She purred the words, leading a prompt grin to stretch across his face. He agrees hastily, remarks on how he has plans that day too and he'll meet her there. He'll meet here there; the dinner's on him and the walk afterwards is too. She tries to curve in some say, gently arguing that it's the best restaurant in town and that she preferred they'd share the expenses, but he assures her that her company's more than enough payment. It's a sweet tag, but it's cliché. Nevertheless, she takes it gratefully and agrees it's fine while secretly planning to pay completely for their next meal together. No one ever said they had to be a traditional couple.

She can see through his gestures; can tell through his stammering; can read between the lips that hosts his cheesy grin. He's planning something and she knows it. She knows it and she respects it. She plays it sly; steering away from pointing out the obvious. She kisses his cheek and heads for the door, admiring the architecture of that eminent little apartment. "I'll be eagerly waiting for that night…" she says with a smile; good-bye in a new language. "It's a rare day there's a Don Quixote in you and I'll be sure to enjoy it to the fullest."

She bought him a full platter of chili dogs the day after.

Her mind is back at that table; her legs are nervously crossed beneath the skirt of a summer dress. The hair that's up; it boasts actual preparation. Her face actually flaunts more than its usual share of minimal make-up. It's a symbol of respect towards it; it's a symbol that she knows but she's trying to hide it. It's supposedly an important evening for her but she isn't the only one. She tries to erase the second's; tries to erase the reasoning behind it; tries to erase that it's according. She's using a chalk eraser on a piece of paper and it's not working.

They're like a dessert entrée over there; that center table. The idea of so much sugar in one place; all being consumed; it disgusts the pit of her stomach. Oh the nerve…!

The ruby wax candle on the middle of that center table; there's silverware beside it. The golden aura of the candles hitting the stone walls of the restaurant building; it's supposedly gives the outside a romantic feel. Couples are enchanted as fluency music lingers in the background; the sound of the accordion being, as always, ever-so apparent. There was nothing quixotic about that dumb thing cooing its absurd sound and voice into the melody. If it's supposed to feel foreign, it's failing.

The hair that hangs down is the pit of her bitter feelings. It lies straight; being a constant reminder of all she stood for; a constant reminder of her normal self, the self that would've intervened. Sally stiffens, runs a hand through it; tries so hard to shake the thoughts away. Tonight was her night. For once in her life, it was completely hers. It belonged to her and him; it was their night, their night to enjoy everything; to cherish the lives they still had; to celebrate all they went through. Their night!

She can try to brainwash herself as much as she wants, but she can't shake the feelings away. The candle on her table still flickers. Her eyes descend on the porcelain of her plate. It's a mirror to her; it catches the depth of her expression; the worry on her countenance and illuminates it. There's pain in her eyes; the same pain she felt before…

A week ago…

"I did it, Aunt Sally, I really did it!" He cheers in an embrace; waltzing around the café that they so often ate lunch in after. The cashiers chuckle at the sight and exchange smiles. They're regulars there. They're known. The employment sees them as family.

"That's wonderful, sweetie," She chimes in. She assumes that he finally talked to his physics professor about the summer internment. Science is a natural interest to him and she wants nothing more than to see him succeed. He's a little nervous in front of them; a little shy before the faculty, but she's proud he stepped pass it. A feeling of pride overtakes her as she glances over, her tone reflecting the warmth raging inside. "Didn't I tell you they'd say yes?" A wide grin.

He nods and gives a thumbs-up. "And she did!"

"She?"

She desperately searches her mind for any female physics professors that she knows. There's one at the school; one he talks so happily about; one whose name comes out recurrently. She tries to piece together it; remembers reading about him in a program. His name is Stephen. Stephen Mongoose.

She tries to find some way that she is not associating the terms correctly. Stephen…Stephanie! Perhaps; perchance; maybe, just maybe she was remembering the program wrong. It had been a while; she can still recall the day but only vaguely. The brown wood of the stage; the navy curtains; the rows of azure chairs; the lone microphone standing on the center of the stage. She can still slightly remember the speech; she can still slightly remember the full name. She couldn't think of any other situation he'd be asking over. It had to be the internship he was discussing; it had to be school-related. There weren't any other solutions. There wasn't any other reasonable answer for the blank in her head; the sheet of text with the given blanks; adjective, noun, verb, pronoun…

He snaps her out of her reverie, still dancing on the floor of the café in his red little sneakers. "Fiona and me are going to the same restaurant you're going to, Aunt Sally! Sonic said he'd help me pay."

"He did?"

She's stunned. He only nods. "Uh-huh, but I told him it's okay. I'd pay for the bill myself…"

"But it's so much…" Her retort tries to cover the fact that she's flabbergasted; that somehow it doesn't seem possible. How would he get the money? It was the most expensive restaurant in the city. Wasn't it a little sudden for a first date? It was, wasn't it? And of all the girls…

Sally doesn't have fond memories of Fiona Fox. Confessed, she can't say she's overly fond of her. The girl's got a checkered past. The girl's manipulative. She's like an expert playing chess against a novice; pinning all the right moves, guaranteeing victory. She's got experience on her side; she's conniving; she the deceiver will soon fool her naïve nephew, the believer.

The fox only slides back into their booth, thoughtfully taking a sip of his coffee and smiling. "I have enough. I went through every option on the menu. I have enough for anything."

"You never know…" Her words hang and he pushes them away, like a kid with a fly swatter, frantically patting at the air.

"I'll be fine, Aunt Sally. I was just hoping you could really help me. I don't really know how to act. I've never taken a girl on a date before…"

And she, he'd continue, has time and experience on her side. Please, he'd plead; please won't you help me? In defeat, she'd nod and for the rest of the week, she'd tutor him on how exactly to act, where not to go, her entire lecture he slightly ignoring. He's in love and she can't stop him. He only hears what he wants to hear…

("Huh? Did you say something, Aunt Sally?"),
Only hears what he wants to hear; only says what he wants to say,
("Sonic's got us reservations, Aunt Sally. Why are you interrogating me so much?"),
Only touches on what he wants to touch on,
("I know how to handle a girl, Aunt Sally. You don't have to go into that!"),
Only is what he wants to be; only sees what he wants to see.

'I don't see you behind me,' he says to her. Her feet nearly stumble at the words; she staggers but somehow straightens and continues. 'Because I don't want to see you behind me,' she loses track again. 'I don't see the fact you're upstaging me or the fact you may have some advice or a reasonable argument I should hear. I'm pretending I don't care.'

I'm pretending I don't care. I'm pretending I don't care…

She hears voices from the table, slowly wandering to her ears. Her stomach nearly churns at some of them. She gorges more of her water down; the water the waiter had so kindly brought her in the first place. She'd have water until her date got there and then continue up the beverage chain, promoting herself to lemonade.

"You know, Fiona, you're really pretty…" His naïve voice strikes her eardrums. It's a soft tone; very true and sincere. He means it only for the girl across him to hear. His eyes stare intensely into hers; never leaving those turquoise specks. Love's shot him like an arrow; it's numbed his mind. It's ice on contact; the fox's own little brain freeze. It doesn't hurt; it's in development, but it will.

And the ice cream sundae having just arrived; the dressy female fox across from him only grins. She's got a pearl little dress on; a rather simply design in concept but extremely showy in some areas. Sally tries not to sneer; tries not to cringe at the girl's response, but she does.

"And you're rather handsome yourself, Miles…"

The words pour out like a badly tuned orchestra. The winds are flat; the percussion's off; the brass section is sharp. Every lie spills out like another measure of music; on and on until no one in the audience can stand it. She doesn't trust the girl; she's almost certain of her motive and it upsets her; it angers her. The fact screams in every action; boasts itself on every inch of her body; the vixen doesn't care. The girl sees him as a little child; someone who she's superior too. There's no adventure with a kid who barely knows what the word means himself. No, Fiona Fox doesn't want to be with little Miles Prower. She never has. There may have been another copy; a metal clone programmed to love the little fox but it wasn't the real thing. The real thing's focus was herself.

It wasn't right to say Fiona was an egomaniac. She dated Sonic for a short while; or more of, he dated her. She was fun for him and at that age, under that stress, he needed to escape serious commitment. It hurt her to think about it; the entire concept of her beau being with someone else; kissing someone else; laughing, hugging, loving someone else. The fact was, somewhere with that fun, he changed. He broke up with her suddenly and nonchalantly, explaining that he really just needed time to find himself. When she asked why, he called it a solo journey. A man didn't always need to be attached to a woman.

Fiona always took offence to the fact that he decided this self-journey needed to take place while he was dating her. He broke it off, disappeared for a while, all through that time the red fox having been distanced from him. Sally reminds herself this, trying to understand the conflict and reason from the fox's perspective. She thinks about that time; the time the hedgehog continued his pursuit to rid the Robotnik family's schemes for good; the time he just lived for himself. He grew up then.

She remembers, sitting at that table, trying to bring herself back into her life. During that time, she had tried to reinstate the closeness that used to be between them; she had insisted that even if she couldn't have him like she did before she at least wanted him as a best friend. She missed him…terribly. For the first time, she finally admitted to herself and the world aloud that she needed him because for the first time in her life, she really felt alone.

And for the first time in his life, he was too. They started to casually see each other again as friends; she showed him her writing, some of her old diaries so he could learn more about her. She showed him an intimate part of herself, hoping he'd do the same. The time apart was painful for her and gradually, she found it was the same way for him. "I still think of you the same way," she had begun one night with a small smile. They were at the park; it was a starry night in the beginning of summer. They reminisced on the past straight after; that shady past that plagued their future. They chatted about the war and somewhere in that summer, whether it was the middle, beginning, or end; somewhere in that summer three years ago they rediscovered the love they had stashed away for a while.

And they fell in love again…

It was a renewed commitment, based on friendship. She let him do as he pleased and he let her do as she pleased and every so often they met together and talked about it. For the last three years, it had been that. They had the luxury of having a long-term commitment; a serious relationship without all the seriousness. Occasionally they'd do something stupid together; whether it be running down the aisles of some store hand-in-hand or just playing hide-and-seek alone in the park. Those were the times she actually laughed, smiled; and he knew she loved them just as much as he did himself. He loved her and she loved him and they had the pleasure of knowing that they'd always have someone to turn to.

Their relationship remained like that until the middle of the second year. She couldn't explain why, but he suddenly started visiting her more. Their weekend dates became daily. There was a slight desperateness in his eyes; either telling her something horrible happened or he had really grown up (or the horrible thing being he had really grown up). Something was pulling at him and all of a sudden, he needed her more. He invited her out more often until she finally found herself visiting him every day. He wasn't traveling much anymore, unless it was on his job. The need for a hero was low and it was starting to have its psychological toll on him. He needed someone to need him and he knew she did. She didn't mind the visits and he didn't either. "There's room for two here, you know?" he'd slyly add in as they'd lounge on the couch, but she'd remind him that her stay at the castle was near mandatory.

"I haven't been to a sleepover in such a long time though…"

On the weekends, occasionally she'd stay. She was old enough to control herself. Sonic seemed to be overjoyed at the company, the pair usually cuddling, snuggling, and watching some movie or playing some game (that about 95.7 percent of the time, she won) on his television set. As it should be, he'd deem.

The intimacy with him didn't seem in his character. The fast paced boy had run out of him, replaced with the demeanor of a mature, calm man. He was ready to slow down and enjoy what he had fought so hard for. He had his reputation, his chic (very metrosexual, she'd joke) apartment, and his princess.

When she said she could happy for the rest of her life in his arms, it was no lie. The rest of their love lives (hers was more of a lack of) smeared and disappeared. It didn't matter anymore. It was just about them.

The world reacted, however. The tabloids enjoyed their periodic 'SonSal' update. There was never much material to write about; the way the pair kept it so low-profile. It was the one couple they gave a thumbs-up to, said it was all going well, and dug deeper for information on their ever-so potential and likely engagement. They never found much. Eventually they surrendered and moved on. There were other couples to write about.

Her father had gradually gotten over the fact that she was dating "that hedgehog" again. The Sonic Fan Club, however, had not. Led by the ambitious Amy Rose, they launched a series of elaborate schemes to turn the public against them (and ultimately, in their dreams, push Sonic enough that he'd break up with her). We hate Sally! Yes we do! She's a piece of filth that doesn't deserve you! (This was one of the milder claims)

No matter how many jingles they conjured, the pair remained unmoved. The words were only assurance to them. No matter how many insults or rhymes they wrote or sang, Sally always looked past them along with the rest of the world. There was no debate on something that was undeniably false.

The flame of the candle still flickers in that frozen moment. She tries to force her mind off of the voices; focus on the table in front of her and the empty chair. She takes another sip of her water; idly fingers the menu she had been through five times. She tries to read the cursive of the menu's font, but sees she can't. They may seem soft conventionally, but they're screaming to her.

Granted, it was times like these that she had wish she had stayed ignorant (or at least had gotten an indoor table). The flirtatious tone of Fiona Fox had nothing to do with affection she had for the little fox sitting near her. She was still upset and she, being older, couldn't brush off the fact he was a child in her eyes. He was inexperienced. He was blind and she was using him to her advantage. Somewhere in asking her did the fox mention that Sonic would be at the same restaurant and at the chance to stick it to the 'ex' she hadn't seen in so long, she gratefully accepted. Somewhere in it, Sally was sure, Fiona was trying to catch her 'ex's' eye; fervently displaying the fact that she had moved on. She was trying to get some worth looking her prettiest in front of the kid that she knew was the most infatuated with her. It was like a babysitter taking the five-year-old she watches to the movies. He'd think it was romantic; clinging to her hand and sharing a box of popcorn. She'd just see it as cute.

Cute wasn't where it ended though; her reason extended that. She had a motive. Through all the make-up that lit up and clogged her eyes, Fiona Fox was trying to recapture Sonic's elusive attention; seeking to attract him. She never understood why he broke up with her, but after three years now, he had to be willing to take her back. His self-discovery quest had to be well over and what man didn't want a little fun in his life? The girl he was supposedly dating; there was no fun in her. Let it be known, Sally Acorn was a duty-driven bore! 'There's too much seriousness in that priss of a girl', would be the typical rebuttal, 'She's not you. She's not you, Sonic! Aren't you listening to me? She'll destroy you. She'll drain you of any life. Don't you hear me? Why won't you look at me? Hello? HELLO!'

I don't see you behind me because I don't want to see you behind me. I don't see the fact you're upstaging me or the fact you're trying to poison your ex-beau with lies and steal him back from me. I'm pretending I don't care.

I'm pretending I don't care. I'm pretending I don't care…

She remembers the evening that brought her to the restaurant and all the preparation that preceded it. They're in his house; he's in front of a mirror. He's adjusting his tie, watching her from the corner do her hair. There's happy music in the background because the radio's on.

He's smiling, still dancing around just like he had done weeks ago. "I'm taking Fiona Fox out to dinner tonight!" He repeats, twirling while searching for a pair of decent shoes. "I can't believe it! I really can't! Can you, Aunt Sally? She must really like me!"

He adjusts the tie to his tuxedo in front of the mirror again. It had been the first one he had wore one, especially for a date. He had been so excited; had been preparing all day. When his 'aunt' walked in with a bag with clothes to change in; when she walked in the front door, after some political meeting, he was in a robe, sitting as if he had been waiting. She set her things out before she borrowed his shower, including her perfume. She came out later, in that dress, greeted by the rich aroma of it. It's funny, in one sense; he slyly sprayed on her perfume while she was in the shower, substituting it for cologne. He slides over with a smile, watching her dry her hair, "How do I look, Aunt Sally?" He inquires, "Do I look manly?"

The adjective causes a smile to crack. She doesn't understand his rush to grow up but it's time, even if not to the full extent, that he starts. It's a little painful adjusting; knowing the fact he eventually isn't going to need her the way he used to. Like Sonic, the dismissed hero, she has become the redundant 'aunt'. She'll be given the pink sheet soon; she's barely hanging now.

She can't convince him not to go because he needs to go and learn himself. She can't tell him what she thinks about his date because he won't believe her. He's in love; he's blind.

And it kills her; the excruciating and intolerable pain of knowing it isn't her place to step in anymore; that she can't prevent or protect him because he won't hear. It's time Miles Prower spring his own wings (or spin his tails) and fly for himself. It's a new concept that she's not ready to take. She doesn't want the pink slip; she doesn't want to believe that it's finally time for the solo flight.

When it happens (and it will), she can't be his box of tissues. She can't be his parachute to prevent the fall when he's shot down or even the mattress randomly placed on the bottom to save his landing. She's there if he needs her, but right now he doesn't.

They stand at the door as she grabs her things. He's getting ready to go pick Fiona up; balancing a bouquet of red roses, a smile, and a note. The fact he scribbled the words 'I love you' on there hurts her the most. She feels the pain he will, knowing the three words won't be returned. There's more pain, however, in knowing she's been replaced.

There's a hollow moment between them as they exchange eyes for the last time. Worry tries to overtake her but she pushes the emotion aside, giving her nephew a hug and a reassuring smile.

"Good luck, Tails."

For a moment, she really has faith. Faith is the best thing she can give him. It isn't her place to throw a warning in anymore. She kneels down and gives him a kiss on the cheek (and nose) as a final good-bye, all of which only causing him to cringe slightly.

"I don't think you should kiss me anymore, Aunt Sally," he states flatly, a gloved hand falling, "If Fiona's gonna be my girlfriend, she's not gonna like it."

He leaves quietly, and she stands on his porch. Her heel's stuck, or so she feels it, and she watches him disappear. Is it starting to drizzle or is that a tear falling down? No, the latter was impossible. It had to be eye irritation.

I don't see you behind me because I don't want to see you behind me. I don't see the fact you're upstaging me or the fact that you just might not need me anymore and there's another girl in your life. I'm pretending I don't care.

I'm pretending I don't care. I'm pretending I don't care...

She's back at the terrace, mind and body. She's watching the center table as the waiter approaches her, surreptitiously refilling her water glass. "Your date called. He should be arriving shortly," he shyly remarks, remembering he was in the presence of royalty. She merely nods and thanks him, and he continues his rounds.

From the corner table, she watches the fox grip his date's hand nervously, smiling obtrusively. "You really think?" he remarks, cheeks slightly tinted at the comment of him possibly being handsome.

"Would I lie to a cute thing like you?"

She tries hard not to cringe, but she can't help it. It doesn't feel as natural with the chunk of mascara she stroked on. They feel a little dry and crusty; they're supposedly thickened and lengthened. She can see them though; still see Tails laugh and Fiona smile. Had it been any other girl, it would've been cute. It was hard not to feel bitter towards her, but she was attempting. She's trying, but she's failing.

"I guess not," she hears the fox stumble, nervously emitting another reply. He smiles sheepishly and the laugh train switches course. Fiona giggles.

"So tell me more about your planes, Tails…I'm fascinated."

It's idle conversation at this point. The boy bursts into a monologue about the achievements of his latest blueprint. Fiona hides a yawn, keeping that smile intact. It's a little awkward, she can tell, on both their parts. The conversation is cut for her.

"There's a man waiting in the lobby, Miss. He's asked for you." The waiter balances a tray of beverages, smiling as timidly at her as Tails had at Fiona. She gets up and pushes her chair in, he leading her into the restaurant. There's a slight French theme to it, the walls are still illuminated. She spots an entrance in all that candlelight, walking in. She's greeted by a mirage of other couples enjoying their meals in the romantic booths, the kitchen doors hidden among them. The hubbub beneath those brown doors is barely audible as chefs frantically make their meals inside.

Eventually, her heels take her to the hostesses' counter. Bunches of couples seat huddled up against each other, waiting for a table. There's no one too notable; a brown mongoose, a tan rabbit, a gray raccoon…

Typicality fades as her eyes hit the left corner. There's a blue hedgehog reclining there, bouncing a bouquet while his leg rests against the wall. The color isn't the most striking thing about him; it's the fact he's alone. She walks over to him with a small smile, reminding herself of the fact it's their evening. He's in a suit; it's amusing.

"I never thought I'd see the day, Sonic," she remarks sweetly, advancing and idly fingering the fabric of the black tuxedo jacket. "I like…"

He smiles at the compliment, letting his eyes trail down her, "Right back at you, Sal! Is that a real dress on you? Real make-up? Honey, you're making me fall in love with you all over again…" He murmurs it out in a soothing tone, fiddling with his bouquet.

"What can I say? Third time's the charm…"

He lifts the flowers up, extending them out and offering them to her, "Sweetheart, I don't need a third when you got me at the first," She reaches out to take them, but he pulls them back jokingly. He waits a moment, letting what he said sink in before he offered them again with the proper tag. "For you, gorgeous!"

"Thank you." She smiles and hesitantly takes them, examining the packaging. They weren't bought, they were handpicked. He tied a ribbon around them, the curls of the bow sticking out. "Now let's see…flowers, suit…this isn't you, Olgivile."

"How did you-Sally, look, my opinion on the name hasn't changed. Please don't call me that." He took her hand, brushing her bangs back with his spare and examining her. "You okay, darlin'? Did everything go smoothly at the political meeting? I'll kill your father if they tore your plans apart again. Politicians…you and I both don't need 'em."

"It was fine, Sonic," she was somewhat encouraging in her reply, daringly laying her head on his shoulder. "Let's just say it's been a long day…"

"Looks like it…" He idly lets go of her hand and wraps the arm around her, pulling her in. "Work's a killer, isn't it, sweetie?"

"Work's the only thing that isn't killing me, Sonic…" He's a little surprised at the remark as he tenses slightly. Automatically assuming something was wrong with his, he tugged at his collar with his spare hand nervously.

"Oh, uhh…really, Sally? Was there…something I did wrong? Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you last night. I've been extra busy this week and you know that-"

"It isn't you. We're fine." Her reassurance causes him to let out a quick sigh of relief, murmuring a quiet thanks to the gods. He's rather stiff, holding a cheesy smile in place. Leading him back towards the terrace, she smiles. "You know," she begins, slipping a kiss in when no one was looking; it landing on his neck. "You feel extremely tense, Olgivile."

"Sally, cut… it… out."

"Don't be silly. You need to take a deep breath and relax…let those manly little muscles of yours loosen. You know I hate seeing you like this, Sonic. Hmm…how about I loosen them manually later? Your couch, my candles…my music..." She purrs the description, letting her fingers crawl on his opposite shoulder.

"The piano?" His question slips out sourly as he pulls her hand away, giving it a kiss before he lets it hang back at her side. "Not tonight, Sally. I've got other plans for us."

Raising an eyebrow, she nods in some understanding. It isn't like him to turn down a free massage, especially when she offers them so rarely. "I was…I was actually hoping we could go to the park after we eat. It's…uhh…it's beautiful this time of year." Beauty was an excuse. He's going to take her there after they eat.

I'm pretending I don't care. I'm pretending I don't care…

"Sally, I have other plans for tonight. Trust me, where I'm gonna take you…it's better and prettier than any park." He brushes a gloved hand against his forehead, wiping aside the sweat glistening from it. If she asked, it was because he had been running so long.

"We can go to both places, Sonic, but I-I need to go there tonight."

"Why?"

His question hangs; his tone takes on a more annoyed surface. He's been planning and working for months on this and already she's willing to push them aside for some park? He's got so many people (okay, so maybe two) involved. He's been working so hard; been working so hard to make it everything it would be. Tonight was their night and he didn't understand what was making her tense. She wasn't the one going through what he was.

"…Sonic, I have a personal problem. I-I don't want to discuss it with you."

He looks slightly hurt at this point, spare arm finding its place on his hip. "Sally, we're supposed to be able to discuss anything with each other. You're joking me, right?"

She sadly shakes her head. "I'm trying to forget about it, sweetie. I-it's something I have no control over."

"Nooo…" He eyes her, shaking his own head. "It's not your father. Sally, I'm gonna kill that man-"

"No, it's not him. He's fine. It's someone else…" She smiles faintly, opening the doors to the terrace. "…we can talk about it after tonight."

The tables glisten as an array of couples sit and talk ceaselessly to each other. Strolling over towards her table, Sonic's arm quickly fell off of her as she settles back in her seat. She motions for him to join her, but he's frozen.

"Fiona?"

The center table catches his eye the same way it catches hers. Slapping her forehead, Sally sinks down in her chair. The hedgehog's eyes trail back and forth, studying the red fox and her date who had just finished explaining how his latest hydroxide engine worked.

"Sonic!" The girl laughs, flashing a gloved hand near him. "Well, who'd of thought? This is my date." Her pointer finger lands on the fox who only blushes. "You know him as Tails, right? I don't know why you never told me more about him. He's the cutest little manly thing I've seen…so smart, so sweet…" She ruffles the fox's bangs affectionately. The fox looks even more flustered. "Everything a girl could possibly want in guy…"

Raising an eyebrow, the hedgehog shrugs. "Well, uhh…congratulations, 'lil bro. I guess when you wanted help getting reservations for a date, you really had a…date. Go easy on him, Fi."

"Yeah, yeah…" Her blue eyes roll as she runs a hand through her short mahogany hair. It's obvious that she didn't take a word he said seriously.

"He's just a kid…" He reminds her, somehow forgetting that Tails could hear.

"I'm not just a kid!" He retorts, embarrassed. "Sonic doesn't know what he's talking about! J-just leave us alone, Sonic. It's my date."

"I'm not trying to ruin it, Tails, it's just that Fiona-"

"It's just that what? It's been three years, Sonic, and I'm not the same girl I was before. I happen to like Miles very much."

Sally rolls her eyes from that corner table again, trying to pull them back on her water. She can't.

"Yeah!" Tails agrees with his date, glaring at his 'former' best friend. "Just because your ex-girlfriend likes me more than you doesn't mean you have the right to interrupt our dinner. For your information, Sonic, I'm a teenager now. That means I'm a young adult, not a kid."

"I know that, buddy, but-"

"And as an adult, I know how to handle girls. I don't need your help so just go away!" He tries to brush him aside and looking back at Sally, Sonic surrenders with a simple nod and starts towards the corner table.

"If you say so, Tails. See you later…Tails, Fiona." Waving, he takes another step away. "Take it easy, adults."

He leaves and joins Sally at her own table, sinking into his seat across from her and grabbing his glass of water that has been sitting for at least an hour. He gulps it all down, staring at her with defeated eyes.

"That," she begins crisply, pointing to the center table, "…is my personal problem."