Sonic

Wind rushing. Blurring colors. The world flying by him at top speeds.

The flashes of cameras twinkled like stars in the crowd of onlookers, all trying to turn a pair of green eyes their way.

The glorious weight of multiple gold medals hung around Sonic's neck as he grinned from the place on the podium.

#1. Winner. Olympic gold medalist.

He did it. He did it. He did it.

He felt like he could burst from the rush of excitement in his chest—like his ribcage couldn't physically contain the moment.

This is what flying was like, he imagined.

"Sonic, Sonic, over here," a voice called from the crowd.

His eyes landed on a smiling pink hedgehog, pen poised above her notepad, question at the ready.

His brow furrowed as he recognized her with a sudden jolt. "Amy?"

The call of her name seemed to go over her head as she barreled forward. "You just became the youngest Olympic athlete to win this many gold medals in your category. So what's next for our famous blue blur?"

Sonic's mind went suddenly blank. Everything besides this moment was suddenly white noise, blurry, vacant. He had won; he had gotten here—what else was there?

He panicked as he tried to come up with something, anything to say as an answer. "Uhhh, I'm going to Eggman's?"

The crowd paused where they stood, all silence and befuddled expressions.

Amy only blinked before stepping forward with her next question. "I think everyone here is wondering, how did you get here? What tips do you have for everyone out there who wants to get where you are someday? What's your normal diet and exercise regime look like?"

The flood of questions hit Sonic like a tidal wave sweeping his feet out below him.

How? How did I get here?

Words stumbled over his tongue as he tried for a response.

"Umm, well, I guess I jog a lot? And I eat chili dogs, mostly?"

Amy gasped, looking scandalized. "Really? Such a lackluster routine! And chili dogs? How does this high fat diet affect your performance? Surely you still maximize your intake of CarboHydrolic cells, yes?"

"Carbohy-what?" Sonic began to feel heat in his cheeks. He felt as though he was shrinking.

"Your CarboHydrolic cells! Every athlete must consider the amount of CarboHydrolic cells in their system before a big competition! Why, it's just common sense!"

What the fuck is she talking about?! He felt like she was speaking a different language. He'd never heard of this. Oh god, should he have heard of this?

Eyes were on him. The world felt like it was spiraling. He grasped for the medals on his chest, something to ground him. Nothing was there.

"Well, obviously before any big race I focus my caloric intake on super-foods like avocados and kale smoothies to maximize the performance of my CarboHydrolic cells."

Wha— Who was…?

Sonic blinked and suddenly a proud green hawk was standing in his place, shining medals resting upon his chest as he preened under the attention.

Jet.

Sonic balked from his newfound place in the crowd as everyone nodded along to Jet's gospel.

"It's just something any runner should know." A sickeningly charming smile curled its way onto Jet's beak.

"Of course," Amy agreed from beside him, as if it was obvious.

"W-wait," Sonic weakly protested. "Those are my medals."

He was only met with laughter.

"Sure, kid," Jet chuckled derisively. "That's cute. Like you know what you're doing. Come back when you've got a clue."

"But I…" I do. The words died on his lips before he could even form them.

I mean, don't I?

Do I?!

He felt weightless, suddenly dropping, panic making his heart race.

This is what falling felt like, he imagined.

He was in an ever-quickening free-fall, approaching nowhere fast. An endless abyss.

Until it wasn't.


Sonic's leg kicked, jolting him awake. The eyes of the crowd and the anxiety of the darkness slowly faded into the form of Tails' bunk above him. He sat staring at the dent his brother's body made in the cheap mattress, fully awake after the terrifying stop.

His breathing was quick, but as reality washed over him, it calmed the pace of his heart as well. He turned over on his bed, looking at the clock on his desk.

5:54 a.m.

The sun wasn't even out yet, darkness still peeking through the slits in the blinds. This was the earliest Sonic had woken up all semester. Honestly, it was probably the earliest he'd woken up since elementary school.

He listened for Tails' slow, sleeping breaths as he shifted in his blankets.

At least that chaos didn't wake him.

He'd feel worse if he'd made Tails lose sleep over some dumb dream.

And honestly, he wasn't feeling up to being questioned about it.

...Though he may have to ask Tails about 'CarboHydrolic cells' when he woke up.

He let out a breath and tossed the blankets off of him, figuring any attempts at getting more sleep would just be in vain at this point.

He shook himself off—might as well make the most of his restless energy.

He grabbed his favorite running shoes from where he had kicked them off the night before, sliding them over his feet. Grabbing a jacket, his wallet and his phone, he put in his earbuds and headed out.

Sonic trotted around campus at a steady pace, breath visible with each few steps. Fall wasn't in full swing yet, but it was a pretty chilly morning. Sonic didn't mind. The raw heat generated from the activity warmed him and he welcomed the breeze of the cool air.

Not many people were out so early on a Sunday morning, save the occasional fellow jogger. The dim signs of the sun rising left a calm, dusky atmosphere. If it didn't mean having to wake up before noon, Sonic would do this more often. The even pace of his feet and the cheerful music in his ears put his mind at ease.

He did jog regularly. His team would have earlyish runs on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but never before 8:00. They weren't mandatory, so Sonic usually opted out, instead choosing to roll up to practice whenever he could wake up, and run on his own at night.

He replayed the dream that had startled him awake occasionally, but felt unwilling to mull it over any further. It left him with too many questions he'd never really taken time to consider.

How? How DO I get to the Olympics?

He always assumed if he just tried hard enough, he would get there. He had the drive, and surely he had the talent. Wasn't that enough?

He paused for a moment catching his breath.

The Olympics? Is that the endgame?

In reality, while the Olympics seemed like the natural goal of any athlete, Sonic hadn't even really given it much thought. He wanted to run. That was a fact. And he definitely wanted to win, whatever it was he could. But he didn't even have the first clue about what it took to be a professional athlete.

There was so much he didn't know, and just the scope of it all made him feel weaker. He had high hopes for his future. But whatever that future was was blurry at best.

Snapping back to the present, he began to notice that he had jogged off campus, and into the downtown area of Green Hill proper. It wasn't a particularly big town, most of the buildings had that old-town charm. There was an antique shop, a barber, boutique, donut shop—

"Oh sick, donuts!" Sonic could smell the sickeningly sweet scent of fresh donuts. In that scent were memories. Memories of him and Tails, waking up early, scootering and skateboarding to the local Emerald Hill Donuts. Returning home with a couple bags of donuts to enjoy with their favorite Saturday morning cartoons. It had been a long time since then.

He snuck a glance at his phone—almost 7:00. Tails had always been something of an early riser—might as well make the best of this slow Sunday morning and surprise the kid with this sweet, sweet nostalgic breakfast. It'd be a welcome break from their usual meals of toaster pastries and snack bars.

And this at least gives me a convenient excuse for being up so early.

A little bell chimed as Sonic pushed open the door, stepping into the warmth of the shop's small interior. A dark wood countertop sat at the back beside a glass case lined with tray after tray of delicious baked goods. A few college kids and retirees sat scattered amongst the few tables.

An older-looking blonde-furred rabbit wearing a flour-dusted apron looked up at him as he stepped towards the counter.

"Well howdy there, hon! Welcome to Sweet Mountain Donuts," she smiled, as sweet as the pastries she offered. "What can I do ya for?"

Sonic eyed the more...creative-looking donuts—topped with bacon and cereals and various colors of powdered sugar.

Well that looks like...a lot.

Overwhelmed by the choices, Sonic tore his eyes away from the fancier options, resolving to come back here when he actually had the energy to explore this wonderful world of donuts.

For now, he opted for simplicity—something he knew Tails would like.

"Um, just a dozen glazed donuts, please," he said, giving a half-hearted smile, still half-distracted by his whirlwind of a morning.

"Why of course, shuga', comin' right up" she said, sliding the donuts one by one into a large box printed with the bubbly letters of Sweet Mountain's logo. "That'll be eight dollars even," she chimed as she slid the box of donuts his way.

Thankfully, he had just enough cash left in his wallet (something he hadn't even thought to check before stepping in here). He passed a couple bills into her outstretched hand. As he was placing his last two dollar bills in the half-full tip jar, the door gave another ding from the front of the shop.

A familiar douchey laugh rings out—almost a squawk-like cackle.

God, why today… or anyday for that matter.

In strides Jet the hawk, head, as always, placed firmly up his own ass.

Sonic sighed. Jet was the last person he needed to see this morning.

What the fuck was he even doing here anyway?

He didn't seem to notice Sonic, instead immediately moving to leer over a poor girl near the entrance, trying to enjoy her breakfast in peace.

He almost gagged. Sonic should have figured Jet was the type to make creepy unwanted advances on random women at donut shops at 7:00 in the morning. Why he'd choose a donut shop of all places was a mystery. Donuts can't be good for those Carbohydrolic cells, after all.

Sonic shook his head. He didn't have the energy to be condescended at today. Best to just keep his head down and get out of here while he could. Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, he snatched his donuts from the counter, trying to make as quick and as quiet of an escape as possible

Then, halfway to the door, someone shoulder-checked him. Hard.

His leg slipping below him, he stumbled to the ground, losing his grip on his sugary breakfast. He watched as the box popped open and a few donuts tumbled to the ground. A sad smattering of his precious golden rings now lay on the floor. Sonic felt his life draining. My precious...

And of course, standing above him was Jet, smirking, hand on one hip. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the rookie track-star himself." He squinted his eyes in mock thought, playacting. "Manic, was it?"

"Sonic, actually," he deadpanned, picking himself off the floor. Normally, he would be firing off witty comebacks already. Jet had this annoying habit of making Sonic's temper shorter than usual. However, the haze of waking up early dulled his wit. "Wouldn't think a five-letter, two-syllable name would be that much trouble for most."

Jet laughed. "Oh shit, sorry man. Guess it's hard to remember the name of the guy who can't even be bothered to show up to morning practice half the time."

He spoke with a twisted sarcasm, his apparent love of patronization making his eyes glint.

He was waiting to get a rise out of Sonic—for him to snap so he could laugh about it with his equally douchey friends later.

Don't give him the satisfaction. Don't give him the satisfaction. Don't

"And you're any better? Half the time you're late, and whenever you do show up you just squawk insults at everyone and boast about yourself." Well shit.

"Well now, this hedgehog's got spikes," Jet laughed, eyeing Sonic up. "Ya'know, I wouldn't be late if I didn't have to put up with asshole rookies like you every practice. Plus, I actually put in the fucking work already. My skill has already skyrocketed past whatever baby shit Big is doing," he actually let out a laugh at the thought of their coach. Geez, did this guy respect anybody?

Well, himself, I guess.

"Oh, but you're the guy who's going to 'break every record.' You're 'on the fast track to being the star runner on this team.' Surely you can just magically get everything without doing any of that shit, right?" The sarcasm that dripped from those words was thick enough to coat even the donuts in.

Sonic felt his throat tighten, attempting to hide the embarrassment of having his own boastful claims contemptuously thrown back at him.

The subtle shift didn't slip by Jet—he was watching for it.

A grin curled onto his beak. "No, you're right, maybe I should just sit on my ass, instead of busting it at every goddamn practice each week, since that seems to be your winning strategy. And how's that working out for you, huh kiddo?"

Sonic's gaze began to fall towards the donuts still laying on the floor. He knew what Jet was referring to. He had entered GHU with above average times, but since then hadn't improved any. Jet, on the other hand, had just broken his personal best last week.

"Heh, thought as much," Jet scoffed, moving closer towards Sonic. Too close. "You know, ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of being the best. Faster than imaginable. And everyday, every minute, every goddamn second I breathe, I am moving towards the unimaginable."

Jet's voice had lowered, though surely the others in the shop, who had ceased talking once this over the top shit show began, could hear him as well as Sonic.

"But hey, I'm nothing if not generous! And hey, we got that big preliminary track meet coming up, so I'll give you some friendly advice from your caring senior," he loudly proclaimed, placing his hand on Sonic's shoulder. Their eyes never breaking contact. "A cute face and natural talent ain't gonna get you diddly squat once you're graduated—ah who am I kidding—once you drop out next semester. So do me a favor." Jet's grip tightened as he leaned in, making Sonic wince. "Either get your ass in gear, or get the fuck off my track."

Sonic yanked away from Jet's vice-like hand. "Yeah, well, what are you even doing here? Small-town donut shops don't seem to vibe with your douchey aesthetic." It was a pitiful comeback, but saying nothing meant defeat, and Sonic was nothing if not stubborn.

Jet scoffed. "Are you kidding me? I would never eat this garbage." He brushed back some stray feathers at the side of his head. "I'm an athlete. I just had to take a piss while on my morning run." He glanced down at Sonic's floor pastries. "Have fun with your, uh," he paused as he pointedly kicked a donut with the toe of his sneakers, "trash."

Deeming this conversation over, Jet strode off in the direction of the bathrooms in the back of the shop, leaving Sonic tense and red-faced.

Carefully avoiding the eyes of the audience to their little scene, he slowly bent down to pick up the donuts.

He gave a sheepish glance at the woman as he threw them away in the trash can beside the counter. He opened his mouth to apologize for wasting her poor donuts, but she just shook her head with a kind look.

"That boy's as feisty as a jumpin' bean in a skillet! Turn my whole shop into some kinda scene from a soap opera," the kindly rabbit lady opened the bake case again, handing him another small box with fresh donuts to replace his lost ones.

"Thanks! And sorry. I'll make sure to come again… hopefully with less disruptive results," he bashfully laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in anxiety.

"Oh, you've got nothing to apologize for, suga'," she glanced at the spot Jet had been standing as she plopped the donuts in his hand. A stern, disapproving frown flashed across her face. "That boy isn't very nice, is he?" She shook her head and gave a bewildered sigh. "That hawk needs to learn him some manners. Why, lord help me, if that boy's legs can run even half as fast as his mouth, then he can very well run himself home to his own toilet."

Sonic gave a hearty laugh. It was nice to have someone on his side at least. "Haha, whaddya mean?"

"Ya' see, the bathroom is reserved for payin' customers only. Got it locked up. So I hope he likes his garbage with sprinkles," she smirked. "That bein' said, you should probably head on home, hon. I think you've had enough asshole for one day."

"Right. Thanks again!" Sonic quickly dashed to the door, mindful of the donuts in his hand.

"Y'all come back now, ya'here," the rabbit lady waved him goodbye, as a pissed off Jet returned, close to begging for the key to the bathroom.

It didn't take too long for him to make his way back to his dorm, donuts in hand. He couldn't help but replay the events of the morning in his mind. The dream. Jet's harsh yet bitterly true words. They looped in his mind. His chest hurt.

"Gah," Sonic tried shaking the images from his head frustratedly, walking into the lobby of his dorm. Predictably, it was void of any students. "No more negativity today. I'm young, spry, and have my whole future ahead of me—plenty of time to figure out my life! I'll start practicing more and crush the prelims! Nothing can stop Sonic," he quietly proclaimed, reaching his room door, only to be stopped by his lack of a key.

Huh... that didn't last long.

Hitting his head on the door a couple times, Tails eventually answered his pathetic call.

"It's almost 8, Sonic. What were you doing," Tails yawned, letting the poor hedgehog sidled into their room.

"Shall I tell you a tale of my treacherous journey for fresh donuts," Sonic dramatically knelt down, holding out the donut box for Tails in one hand, while placing his other hand to his forehead.

"Ooh, donuts! Skip the story, I'll get some milk," Tails took the box, putting it on his desk, and hurried to their mini fridge.

"Hurumph, no respect," Sonic pouted, getting up, grabbing the remote for their TV. "Hows about we pair this sugary bounty with some nostalgia?" He pulled up their family's Blurflix account, putting on their favorite show.

"Tomatopotamus X! Oh man, do they have the third season? They never played that one on TV," Tails turned his desk's chair to face the TV, donut in one hand, cup of milk in the other.

"Yeah, but It's only in Japanese," Sonic followed Tails' example, sitting on his bed with a donut ring on his finger.

"Subs are better than dubs anyway—you lose too much in translation." Tails argued, taking a swig of milk.

"But the cheesy 90's voice acting!" Sonic defended around a mouthful of donut.

Tails rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of cheese in that weird new Tomatopotamus Boom cartoon."

"Hey now, even you have to admit that that show is way more self-aware and clever than it has any right to be."

Tails' usual critiques of their beloved Tomatopotamus faltered here. Even he found Tomatopotamus Boom's silly meta humor just well-written enough to draw at least a few chuckles out of him.

Tails pouted, conceding. "Yeah, you're right."

Sonic leaned back into a pillow. "It's genius—never gonna get cancelled."

This was how it should be. Sonic and Tails. Not a care in the world. Just like when they were kids. They talked over the show, picking apart some of the more bizarre points of the cartoon that they had glossed over as kids. Sonic, however, wasn't entirely there.

He sat wondering how his life had become so complicated in such a short time. All of his anxieties were being prodded at one by one. He kept shaking it off—no reason to let it keep him down, right? But something told him that the longer he ignored it, the more things would grow out of control.

I'm fine just the way I am… right?