A/N: Yo. That's all. I'm not dead. Just sayin'.
... His lips danced across her cheek. Her hand graced his. A sigh escaping her mouth...
...
He slammed his hand down on the paper, rolling it into a fist and crumpling the paper with it, while his other hand cradled his forehead. A frustrated sound highlighted his heavy heart.
In the corner of the dark room laid a pile of crumpled paper, lying somewhat near the trash can.
The lines on the papers were all shaky, wobbled up and distorted because he hadn't been able to keep his hand still the entire time he had been sitting at the dimly lit desk.
The memory of the single fleeting moment of romance cluttered his mind. Though he knew it wasn't real. It had never happened. He had woken up 3 hours ago. And since then, he had been sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, attempting to put what he felt into words. He felt like she deserved something. And he knew he was too much of a wimp to say anything in person.
He slowly let his head glide down along his arm until his forehead hit the desk, his hand frustratedly tangling in his disheveled quills.
"Why can't I do this...?"
There was a small clack when his other hand fell against the desk.
Curiously, he looked up, out to his hand, and saw the light salmon-peach color of a shell just barely dangling out from underneath the glove.
He was especially fond of that memory. Knowing he would be forever safe under her luck. Anything she made was magical to him. She had always been obsessed with the stuff, magic.
"Destiny..."
That was what she said the tarot cards had told her when they first met. They were destined to meet. Destined for something greater.
How he wished he could make her magic feel real to her. The bracelet, the cards, the books. He wanted to make her see how right she was. But he was scared.
She was the only thing Sonic the Hedgehog was scared of.