AN: Have you ever taken something beautiful and made it ugly?
Broken Stars
He tore away from his target, cradling his bleeding hand to his chest. A moment of silence only earned him a glare from the other, causing his body to stiffen at the recollection of times past.
No, it wasn't supposed to be like this anymore. Their relationship had grown. They had changed. Nights that once would have been spent far away from each other ten years ago were now shared by both. Words that once would have gone unsaid now freely hung in the air between them.
Yet they continued to fight like cats and dogs.
"Well," his former rival snarled, bending to pick up the glass shards at his feet. "You've certainly managed to make yourself look like a fool, now haven't you, Sonic?"
He winced at the acidic tone of voice that confronted him. The way that his name was said told him that his opponent was begging for a fight. Of course, the last thing he wanted to do was fight him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, sweeping up what remained of the glass with his hands. "I don't know what I was thinking. You just – I don't know, Shadow–"
"Save it," the other spat, "and go get me the mop."
With a sigh of contained desperation, he trudged towards the closet to retrieve the desired mop. He kept his teeth gritted tightly in order to prevent any curse words from spilling out. His heart thudded in his chest like a beating drum, slowly escalating in intensity as the anticipated moment drew near.
When it at last arrived, the explosion was mild but powerful.
"Here." He passed the bloodstained handle from his own trembling hands into a pair that quivered with rage. He watched the other slowly rise to his feet, avoiding eye contact with him all the while, as he silently prayed that he wouldn't lash out at him.
"Thank you."
The silence as the mess on the floor was erased could have killed him right then. He wanted to do anything to break it, to shatter its ugly reality just as he'd shattered the innocent glass on the counter. But was it really his fault? After all, he'd come in the door to find Shadow gulping down his tears in the clutches of denial, alone as always. His coldness at that time had drawn out his anger, forcing him to do something that he never would have done. He wasn't a violent person.
At least not like Shadow was.
Shadow met his eyes suddenly, searching the hollow emerald portals for any trace of truth, any tiny particle of insight. Feeling violated, he closed himself off immediately, turning towards the open window without another word. Behind him, he heard Shadow scoff.
"You're a fucking hypocrite, Sonic."
He clenched his teeth ever harder but still said nothing, pressing his injured hand into his chest as a reminder of the damage that had already been done. There was no sense in replying, as doing so would only add to the scars that they'd made.
However, as Sonic realized just then, nothing could be reversed, either.
~End~