windingdrabble

[windingdrabble]

Sonic has never cared much for movies. Nothing against them or anything--- it’s just that if he’s going to stay still for two hours, he prefers to do it in the comfort of a field of flowers and chirping birds. And if he wants to experience a story, he can read instead, out in said field. Bernie made real sure that habit stuck for life. Even as a kid, he was never too invested. The flowers were still more interesting to him back then. As for Ruby, while Sonic doesn’t know if he was a film fanatic before going blind, he doesn’t suspect him of as much. After all, Ruby was only upset about being unable to read, and never voiced any grievances over not being able to see a TV screen ever again. No harm no foul, it’s look like.

So it’s a little ironic that half of their time spent around the house involves having the TV in the background.

None of them like the quiet, so radio silence isn’t an option. Music is an alternative and what usually fills up the rest of their quiet nights, but more often than not, there’s something on the TV when they're laying on the couch. They talk to eachother more than anything, only tuning in when the film demands it or when something funny interrupts them, at which point Ruby will pretend to narrate what comes next. Like a weird sort of radio drama (his dad liked those, to have them in the background while he worked in the garden), Ruby will add sound effects where he sees fit, and try to guess what’s going on in the scene he can’t quite grasp, both by virtue of being blind and by not paying attention. It’s like a backup sort of thing, in case the conversation peeters out but they still want to say something, still want an excuse to keep it going, and in case there’s some sort of unspoken tension that needs to be broken. It’s there, in the background, if they need it, and easy t ignore if all they need is something to block out the uneasiness of a too-quiet living room. 

Still, Sonic would have appreciated if Ruby hadn’t chosen a telenovela, of all things. He fights what he knows is a losing battle against the executive decision, but Ruby’s smirk tells him he’s very aware of the opposition and was looking for it, because he’s terrible. Terrible or not, and huffy or not, Sonic settled into the couch, and let Ruby lean against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around him. Not like he was going to pay attention to whatever was going on, anyway. 

Their conversation starts before the recording itself. Luckily for Sonic, it’s been a few weeks since they’ve seen eachother, so their topics are plentiful and way more engrossing than whatever Gabriella and Lucas and their nonsensical love triangle had to say-- and he only knows their names because Ruby interjects with occasional jokes about them. It’s easier to tune out the movie beyond its purpose to fill the empty background noise when Sonic settles into the groove of talking with Ruby in English, and his brain starts to be unable to immediately translate Spanish into anything coherent. As their conversation and the film goes on, more of Ruby’s weight falls on Sonic, who leans back against the arm of the couch, bit by bit. Ruby has to lean down more than Sonic does when leaning against the latter’s shoulder-- it’s easier to just lay back on the couch together than sit up against eachother. It does wonders for refocusing his attention, too. Habitually, his hand finds Ruby’s quills to brush through, and his opposite arm loosely lays across Ruby’s shoulders. Ruby’s head on his chest and how calm his voice is when he fills in Sonic on the cat he got out of a tree is all he cares to pay attention to. Sonic can’t tell if Ruby slowly inching closer to him is an unconscious thing or not, but he doesn’t mind the excuse to move around a little bit to let Ruby lay more comfortably. He doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten until Ruby’s breath flutters over his neck, and then, all at once, he has to put effort into not letting his quills bristle.

“What are ya’ doing?”

“Hm?” Ruby hums, in a sickeningly sweet ‘oh, I’ve done nothing wrong ever in my whole life’ kind of tone. “Watching a movie. Why do you ask?”

“You know ‘at’s not what I meant,” Sonic huffs, trying to keep his tone from bleeding into being flustered. He can almost feel Ruby’s smirk as she shifts against him, and almost jumps at the feel of his arms snaking around Sonic’s back. 

“Then what did you mean, pray tell?”

“‘Pray tell,’” Sonic parrots, laughing and trying to ignore the fact it comes out nervous and high-pitched. “Y’er kidding me.”

“No, that is your job,” comes the response,, and Sonic can almost spell it all out just by how close Ruby is to his neck. He can feel the letters come together from the feeling of it dancing along his collarbone, can feel the teasing air of it, can almost feel Ruby’s mischief as if it’s his own-- if there was enough space in his chest for it. His heart speeds up in there, swells with the soft puffs of air and doesn’t deflate, just keeps growing because Ruby just keeps inching closer and Sonic wriggles in his grasp.

“You are not doing this while /that/ is playing,” Sonic breathes out as a disbelieving and embarrassed laugh. 

“Would you complain if I was?”

“I did complain about y’er choice in filmography,” Sonic huffs, looking away to save some face, despite the fact his cheeks are burning. “You just don’t--”

Sonic is observant-- he has to be, to cut it in his line of work. His sense are sharp, and his gut is (usually) pretty reliable, but Ruby has a way of worming past all those years of experience, all those defenses. He settles gently against Sonic, his chest fur warm and soft and his laugh right up against Sonic’s neck, and arguments unceremoniously tumble out of Sonic who tries to pretend like this isn’t flustering him, but the moment Ruby presses a kiss to his neck to go with that laugh Sonic is all sunshine and giddyness and putty where he lays.

“I do not what?” Ruby asks inbetween peppering affection.

“Y’ don’t--” he tries, he really does try, but his reply peeters out and melts into a purr despite his attempts to fight it. “‘At’s-- cheatin’, ‘at’s cheatin’--”

The humm reverberates in Ruby’s chest and spreads to Sonic, who feels his quills bush out for a moment while the rest of him sinks further and further into Ruby’s arms and the cushions of the couch. 

“What is? You are going to have to speak up, love, I cannot understand you.”

In typical Sonic fashion, he keeps fighting what looks (and is) like a losing fight, tries to get out an insult or a quip or anything more dignified, but Ruby keeps nuzzling and kissing and laughing against his neck and Sonic can feel his tail wag and his heart grow at the gesture. When a few well placed kisses get him to squeak, Ruby stops, but Sonic is too busy trying to recover to pull away or glare at him (neither of which he earnestly wants to do).

“I did not know you could do that,” Ruby laughs, louder than his usual chuckles, and through the overwhelming fondness and affection Sonic smiles, despite himself, because it’s so unfiltered. Because it’s clear and carefree and he wants to hear Ruby legitimately happy more often-- every day, if possible. Wants to see him smile like he’s finally managed to get rid of all the weight in his heart.

So despite his embarrassment, and how clear it is on his face, Sonic merely grumbles, and pretends it doesn’t sound soft and fond. Pretends he doesn’t like it when Ruby goes back to seek out more squeaks.

[windingdrabble]

it's not simple to say that most days i don't recognize me that these shoes and this apron that place and its patrons have taken more than i gave them

“M’ sorry.”

They’d been rocking back and forth on the floor for a while, or at least Sonic is pretty sure it’s been a while. His mind is foggy, struggling not to float away from him, but it recalls, vaguely, that there had been more light streaming into their cabin a bit ago. 

“I really do not mind--”

“No, dude, I-- please. Jus’ let me apologize.”

Maybe Ruby can sense Sonic has something to say-- odd of him, right after a panic attack, since he usually needs time to gather his bearings before being okay enough to open conversation-- or maybe he’s in a mood to be less stubborn than he usually is, but he goes quiet. Sonic feels him gently, very gently, bump his head to his in quiet support.

“M’ sorry,” he begins, and he tries to put pressure on the wound he feels gush right after, but he just feels the blood in his hands and his mouth open. “M’ sorry for making a mess, an’ I’m sorry for stressing you out, and I’m sorry for kicking you and I’m sorry for hurting you and I’m sorry for freaking out in the middle of the night and I’m sorry for not being able to shower on my own and I’m sorry for--”

“--For not being okay.”

Sonic’s breath stutters, and he swallows the instinct to argue against the sentiment, but he’s known for awhile he hasn’t been okay. He hasn’t been, for a long time, but the fact still tastes bitter in his mouth, and makes him sick to his stomach. He nods, mutely. He feels Ruby’s arms snake around him tighter, and becomes aware of his hands running gently up and down his arms. A small kiss is pressed on his shoulder, which releases some of the tension Sonic’s carrying. He sighs shakily, and feels all the energy left in his both dissipate into the air around him. 

“You should know better than anyone that I have never been okay,” Ruby speaks after a moment of silence. Sonic sinks against his chest, and guiltily becomes aware of the fact he must have pricked Ruby with his quills, the way he’s holding him.

“..What about that?”

“That you have never held that against me,” the dark hedgehog adds, guiding his hand to knit with Sonic’s fingers. “So why are you so intent on holding the same thing against yourself?”

Sonic blinks, somewhere between being completely out of it and oddly present. He can still hear it-- the world caving in, the robotic whirrs of the enemy, Gadget asking for his help to deliver the next blow, Tails on the intercom, who had been so relieved to see him alive and okay, cheering him on. You’ll always be our shining hope.

And he wants to be. For everyone else, and for himself. 

“‘Cause I’m supposed to be,” he replies, even though he’s aware Ruby already knows the answer. “‘Cause.. I like chaos, right?”

Ruby hums.

“And-- I do, ‘cause no matter what, I can.. I can control myself. Always. I mean… y’know, no one knows anythin’ about this.”

He blinks his eyes open, even if they weight as much as a robot’s foot. Sonic stares, blearily, down at his feet, and down at the arms around him that had to keep him in check to not do something stupid, something Sonic couldn’t control. Something Sonic couldn’t control, because he was back there, for a while. For a while, he was back in space, and he was also back in that basement, and he could somehow hear both the harrowing loneliness of Eggman’s cell and the pain, pain, pain of not having autonomy, of being held to one place and forced to hear bones break and see blood spill on the floor. He couldn’t change it then, just like he couldn’t stop himself from going back over and over and over and over.

“An’ I can’t anymore.”

Sonic bites down on his cheek, suddenly angry and frustrated and for a second or two he thinks of everything else, of the people he let down and the people he let die and the people he couldn’t help and every problem he can’t fix and the fact he can’t get it into his damn brain that he’s okay, should be okay, is okay and damnit he’s so tired and he hates himself, for a second. He swallows the bitter-tasting self hatred, and misses the spoonful of sugar that is his usual positivity. 

Just for a second or two, he feels drained and dim. Sonic laughs, and chokes on the sound.

“‘Ere’s still-- some part’a me that’s back there. In that stupid base, in that-- fucked up basement. An’ I keep thinking that I should be able to-- not care. That this shouldn’t be a big deal, cause it usually-- isn’t. And it feels-- wrong, that it isn’t. It still does.”

“Y’know, not to be a downer, ‘cause that ain’t my style, but-- s’ hard, to like myself when I’m like this.”

All he gets, for a little while, is a nod from Ruby. He squeezes Sonic’s hand, who leans into him more, as if he could disappear into his boyfriend, forget everything, and come back the same old Sonic he usually is-- the one better version of himself.

Instead of saying anything, Ruby shifts, and gathers Sonic in his arms. Too drained and too exhausted, the smaller hedgehog lets his head be laid on the alternate’s shoulder. Footsteps scale their way up the stairs, until the door to their bedroom creaks open, and a dazed Sonic is laid on the bed. Soft, warm blankets are tucked over him, as meticulously as Ruby does much of his daily activities. Sonic opens his eyes again when he feels a shift in the weight being put on the mattress, and not long after Ruby’s grabbing him again, to lay against his chest. Sonic only moves to shuffle closer, to hide in his chest and listen to his heartbeat to ground himself. To his chagrin, Ruby grabs the side of his face, and Sonic blinks and finds himself looking at a pair of soft red eyes, concerned but adoring. Sonic recognizes that, the adoration, even while in this sour state of mind. 

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” Ruby speaks, and Sonic hadn’t noticed how quiet his voice is, as if Sonic is the only one he cares to talk to. As if their world is just them, in this room filled with pictures and knick knacks and memories only the two of them are privy to. “Being bitter at yourself is only going to make it worse.

“Love, you are not invincible. You work the same way everyone else does, and everyone has a limit, and that does not make you any lesser.”

Sonic makes a small, noncommittal noise, and nuzzles into Ruby’s hand. 

“I know you can do things not everyone can, and I know everyone expects you to be everything for them, but regardless of all of that, if being a mess does not make me worse, then it does not make you any worse. No exceptions. Unless you wish to be a hypocrite.”

A small laugh puffs out of Sonic's chest. He’s too tired, has so little to give right now, but can vaguely recognize the warmth in his chest that Ruby is so good at lighting. Ruby holds his face gently, and brings him in closer to kiss his cheek, and once Sonic is back to hiding in his chest fur, he kisses his head. A pair of protective arms coil around Sonic’s back, and a quiet, constant purr is being muffled into his fur. Sonic sighs, and concentrates on Ruby’s familiar heartbeat.

“I hate it when y’er right.”

[windingdrabble]

“Ruby, this ain’t a joke, let me go!”

He struggles, pushing up against a set up hands he knows are too strong for him,until the grunt of pain he hears makes him freeze, for a moment. It only makes him more frustrated, more pissed off, because what the fuck does he think he’s doing, who does he think he is, using the fact he’s injured against Sonic--

“This ain’t a fuckin’--”

The world blinks, and every other time it flashes into darkness, Sonic sees the eerie blue glow of the cuffs that sapped his energy and free will away from him. It happens again, and his leg is getting crushed by a robot he had no chance against. Blinks, and the crushing sound still reverberates in the walls of his mind, still echoing with pain as he tries to get up to do something about his situation but he just crumbles and can’t do anything. He can’t do anything. Ruby’s holding him down, and he can’t do anything.

He can’t do anything.

“Fuck.”

The hands around his wrists buzz something monotone, even more like the blue bands Eggman had. Another robotic part slams into his chest, throws him against a wall that breaks a rib on impact, and Sonic can’t breathe.

And ever since then he hasn’t felt right, hasn’t felt like he can breathe somewhere new and not be watched by something he can’t put a name to, something that would drag him back to a cell so small he could barely pace in it, where light never filtered in unless Eggman wanted to brag about the fact he was useless and stuck and useless and stuck and useless and stuck. Ever since then, he only sleeps half of the time, and can’t sleep well when he does, because he thinks about those sleepless nights where he stared at an empty, mocking wall and thought about Tails being taken down by a robot Sonic could have stopped, about Amy getting taken by surprise by an Infinite Sonic could have distracted, about Knuckles losing to an enemy Sonic could have helped him fight, about all the people Sonic could have and should have been  there for and how he’s just rotting away in one godamned corner of space, and still feels like the fault weighs on his shoulders. Still wakes up thinking they’re all gone, still wakes up thinking it’s his fault. The eyes above him look more like the glowering eyes of a robot Eggman made to look like himself, and Sonic hasn’t been afraid of Eggman in years, because Eggman holds no power over him, but he did, for a while. He held more power than him, because Sonic was powerless.

Powerless.

Powerless and scared.

He can’t breathe, and he’s scared.

And Sonic has had panic attacks before. Sonic has been stuck in a quiet panic in his childhood room, has woken up int he middle of the night, in the forest he’d been sleeping in without a breathe he can catch. Sonic has dreamt about small dimly lit rooms, isolation, a lack of agency, getting ripped away from what makes him him, and found his lungs not to work. Sonic is familiar with it all, Sonic knows what that’s like, but almost immediately something adjacent but so much worse hits him. 

It burns, sharp and hot and enough to almost knock him out. He blinks against it, and still he sees his tied up hands and the approaching robots that went from a nuisance to a real danger. He chokes on something, and tries to get so much across to the weight on top of him still, but he thinks all it does is make tears come to his eyes. His heart is and isn’t there. It’s a terrified animal, beating on a cage it can’t stand, something that flickered between desperation and just not being there. It gives him whiplash, give him more burn and burn and fear. Fear, fear.

He had been scared. Lonely and scared and unsure, so unsure and so stripped from any power or agency and left at the whims of the person who hated him the most and Sonic hates him for making him afraid but more so, of all things, he hates himself, because Sonic the Hedgehog rolls with the punches and takes things in stride. Sonic the Hedgehog doesn’t let something like getting locked in a room and beat up sometimes get to him.

But it didn’t feel like he was locked in a room and punched sometimes. It still doens’t. It feels like something inherent to himself was taken from him, the very concept that defines him and makes him, and like when he got it back, it was banged up and damaged and not the same. Like his safety and peace of mind was taken, cut up, and handed back to him to sort out the pieces of.

The weight on his wrists lifts, and he doesn’t move other than to cover his face. Sonic lays there, because moving seems beyond him right now. He lays there, on his back, as curses and wheezes and sobs rip him apart from the inside and he constantly teeters on the edge of being sick. He wants to zone out, he wants to drift away again because this hurts and he hurts and he isn’t the same and he wants to be and he isn’t meant to be afraid but he is and he hates it and he hates and he hurts.

Warmth wraps around one of his hands, and it tugs so gently that it feels foreign and weird, because all Sonic feels is sharp, unstable edges. A ship, rocking on an unforgiving sea, crashing into waves and coming back down with a slam as thunder breaks the sky and his chest into two. It’s a little like the sun parting the clouds, and it should make him stop, but all it does is allow a strangled sobs to rip through his throat, guttural and muffles by his other, shaking hand. Another warm weight slips between his back and the floor, pushes him upland away from the cold surface (the room was always so cold and uninviting and isolating and fuck he hates the dark now, he hates and hates) and leads him towards something still-warm, still stable and strong. Sonic collapses against it, being run too ragged by everything that’s ripping him apart. The warmth knits itself around Sonic’s hand, and squeezes. Sonic squeezes back tighter.

[windingdrabble]

     “Y’ look nice.”

     ‘Nice’ doesn’t exactly cut it. It works, sure-- Ruby’s crossed the ‘nice’ bar easily, it isn’t incorrect, but it isn’t enough. His fur looks nice when the light from the moon hits it. The nurses gave him pain medication, and it’s working well enough to where his smile is small but constant and there and soft and calm and nice. Ruby makes a joke at his eyes’ expense every time he gets the opportunity to, but he keeps fluttering them open and closed and the quick, delicate blinks are curtains to his foggy eyes that Sonic can’t bring himself to think aren’t nice still. Maybe he’s covered in bandages and bruises but he’s still nice, even if calling it ‘nice’ adds to the bubble of frustration and confusion in him. Nice isn’t quite right, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to think of, and that’s already enough to make him break eye contact.

Ruby’s eyes open and stay open for longer this time, looking up at Sonic. There’s a bandage on his cheek, but Sonic grins a little stiffled grin when he bets to himself the blush could probably show through the gauze. 

“I look like shit,” the other deadpans, turning his head a little to the right on Sonic’s lap. The motion gets him a little closer to the hand Sonic has hovering over that side of his face. Sonic’s reluctant thumb tucks in closer to graze over Ruby’s nose, and after a few beats of serene (odd, misplaced, but not unwelcomed serene-- serene is a luxury to them both) silence, Ruby buries his muzzles into Sonic’s palm with a sigh. Sonic can’t help but not be able to stiffle the grin any longer, chest warm and cheeks red. He can’t tell yet if Ruby’s naturally this touchy or not-- he’s more often than not on some sort of pill or pain killer and SOnic knows from experience that definitely is a factor to consider-- but it’s-- also nice. Sometimes, when they both seem to gravitate towards sitting in the same spot and lean into eachother, it’s nice.

“How would you know?” Sonic replies, a little amusement in his voice. Ruby just... ending up half-asleep on his lap was already endearing (endearing-- endearing is nice, and it’s a little better than nice, but endearing doesn’t fill up the space in his heart Ruby has carved himself a home into) but hiding his face in his hand makes him smile crooked-- he can feel it.

“I just do,” Ruby replies, in his endless, stubborn wisdom. Sonic rolls his eyes, tracing the outline of Ruby’s eye with a stray thumb.

“Flawless logic, O’ Wise One. I’m the only one who can tell if y’ look like shit or not.”

He feels Ruby smile the smallest bit wider, and his heart skips a beat, and Ruby hides in his palm again and sunlight falls over Sonic’s back.  

“You are biased,” Ruby replies not-exactly-incorrectly (he still looks nice, still looks endearing wrapped up in all the bandages and casts), quiet and muffled. “You are the second least qualified to tell me if I look like shit or not.”

“Hey, I’m not second best at anything,” Sonic feigns insult, despite the smile in his voice. Ruby’s face isn’t as warm as it was when he was in the throughs of sickness weeks ago, but Sonic prefers it this way. If Ruby’s fever had come back that quickly that fast he would’ve been kicking down the doctor’s door forever ago. “If I gotta be unqualified I gotta be the most unqualified or no dice.”

Ruby opens his right eye to roll it, and Sonic huffs. Ruby complains that his eyes are useless now, but of course he doesn’t skip out of putting up a show of annoyance. 

“You make no sense,” he comments, closing his eye again when Sonic’s other hand gently brushes the fur near his ear. Sonic’s familiar with longing now, or familiar with it enough to at least recognize its pull at Ruby so easily giving in to the affection, at his still-relatively-peaceful smile under the moonlight still streaming in through the window, at the breath he feels dance over his hand as Ruby eases into him more. Sonic hasn’t made sense for a long time now, and for once, it isn’t daunting or scary or stressful.

“You don’t either,” Sonic shrugs, brushing over the pathways on the side fo Ruby’s face that are starting to become somewhat familiar, that are still drawing out that longing. 

It shouldn’t be too long before the hospital discharges Ruby. He’s getting his casts removed... in a few weeks (Sonic tries to keep track of all the dates, but for the life of him everything is still so liquid and runny and it blends together a lot), he’s been face mask free for a while now, he’s allowed to be carried outside and to hobble around more and more with Sonic to keep an eye on things. He won’t need to be tied down to a bed pretty soon, he won’t have to take as many medicines, he won’t have to move so little. He won’t have to get pain meds and curl up like this and joke in a quiet voice, the only voice in the room, and the only voice in the world Sonic wants to listen to at the moment. He won’t need distractions from the hospital at night, he won’t need conversations at four am (it was four last time he checked, before climbing on the bed), he won’t need Sonic to brush his quills absentmindedly (he isn’t absentminded-- he’s very present and very aware and very invested in where Ruby moves, what he says, how his fur moves against Sonic’s fingers, how his lips move against Sonic’s palm, how he looks so okay for once in forever and Sonic wants him to be okay forever), he won’t need Sonic to ‘accidentally’ have to stay where he is for the rest of the night, back to propped up pillows and hands gently discovering where he can scratch to get Ruby to be less grumpy.

The longing tugs, familiar anxiety seeping into the calm atmosphere. 

Where would Ruby go after this? Sonic may be working on the whole Chaos Control... Control thing, but he can’t manage as much back and forth as he does from the hospital to anywhere else in his world. That’s his world, where everything is a five minute run away at most. Ruby’s home is in his corner of the multiverse, and Sonic shifts uncomfortably at the thought of leaving Ruby (stubborn, way too godamn stubborn Ruby) to his own devices with a hole in his chest, alone in a world Mephiles likes to frequent. Sonic hasn’t been able to track down that thing since the whole mess went down-- his Super Sonic memories have always been a little... dreamlike. 

Ruby could want him to stay away, now that he won’t need as much care. Sonic is the emergency contact for a whole host of reasons, but half fo them are for the safety of everyone around Ruby. Sonic woudl be hard-pressed to find someone as explosive during a panic attack as Ruby is, and when you’re a ticking time Chaos Energy time bomb who was made to sock people’s jaws in his sleep, only someone with the same jaw-socking dayjob can keep you at bay. Ruby would still need someone to keep him from hurting /himself/, yeah, but... Ruby’s stuck here, one way or another. When he bails out fo the hospital, he won’t be stuck anymore-- stuck with the hopsital, or stuck with Sonic. 

“Hey, uh-- you,” he licks his lips, twirling a few strands of Ruby’s fur. “You.. going to stay.. at your place when they let you outta here?”

“You mean I am not here for the rest of my endless life?” Ruby laughs, and this time the skip in Sonic’s heart is bittersweet. There’s something about hearing Ruby laugh and it being the only sound in the room. 

His eye opens again, and he shifts in Sonic’s lap. “I... no.” Something taints the peace that had blanketed Ruby for most of the night, something shadows over his face and knits his brows. “No, I... I will look for somewhere to stay here, I guess.”

They’ve talked about a lot of things in Ruby’s hospital stay. Guilt, anger, hurt, regret, mistakes, apparently mutual feelings (though they haven’t said they’re anything other than friends, which Sonic doesn’t complain about), but Sonic doesn’t think it’s ever going to be a comfortable subject to bring up. Given what he knows now about Ruby’s history, he doesn’t blame Ruby for skipping out on home visits. Sonic runs his fingers down Ruby’s face, trying to draw the tension from his expression and shoulders again, somehow. 

“I-- You--” he stutters, never a good thing to be unable to keep back. Sonic the Hedgehog is witty and fast-talking and confident, and when Sonic the Hedgehog isn’t witty and fast-talking and confident the red flag it raises sticks out like a sore thumb. “You-- Y’know, I don’t... I don’t know if..”

“Spirit, relax.” Ruby’s head tilts, away from Sonic’s hand to attempt to make eye contact. Sonic bites on the inside of his cheek, ears flicking like an anxious beat pacer. Ruby’s hand lifts from the messy blankets all around them, enough telegraphing to tell Sonic to meet him halfway. Blind, and all. Sonic rolls his shoulders, holding onto Ruby’s outstretched hand, which squeezes when they made contact. 

“Stuttering does not sound like you,” Ruby continues, softly enough to where Sonic doesn’t start thinking the same thing, to his own detriment. He stutters rarely, although if he does it’s usually around Ruby. “What is it?”

Sonic blinks down at him, at the glassy eyes he hasn’t come to appreciate any less, at the genuine emotion in them despite their lack of eyesight, at Ruby’s slight head tilt, concerned and curious and nice and endearing and cute. Cute also doesn’t occupy the space he needs it to occupy, but it slots in a little better. A more snug fit, even if the longing is making it cold and Sonic involuntarily holds Ruby’s hand tighter. Ruby rubs his knuckles with his thumb, still inquisitive. Still allowing Sonic his own pace.

“Tails’ house,” Sonic manages, blinking down and then away from Ruby at the door of the pale white room. “I.. have a room. In Tails’ house. He could... I think I can cash in a few favors, and you could.. crash there, for a bit.”

Sonic laughs without intending to. “If you aren’t tired of having me around so much.”

Ruby shifts again, a little more than the last few times. He’s still frowning, but still inquisitive-- curious if anything. Curious, confused. “Why would I be tired of that?” 

Sonic blinks, scrambling through the logic in his thought process for an explanation. He laughs again, nervously. “Well, I dunno. If you’re just.. making due with what ya’ got here, I mean. It isn’t like you sleep much at all-- or if I sleep much at all, either-- and if you’re stuck in the hospital and not moving, and I’m not moving to make sure you don’t run away, then you- might as well.. do this, I guess.”

He shrugs again, ear twitching. “I dunno if this is your-- first choice for spending the night. I’m just a free pillow and conversation.”

Ruby shakes his head, taking back his hand to blindly hover over where he probably imagined Spirit’s cheek to be, and when he makes contact, he finds his way to Sonic’s chin to tilt it enough to get Sonic’s runaway eyes.

“Making due? Spirit, did you miss out on that whole conversation we had where we both said we were hypocrites and liked eachother?”

The question and the hand at his chin make Sonic run a blush. “No, ‘course not, but.. it ain’t like I know how this works, and you don’t either, and we’re both not exactly the ‘let’s immediately get married immediately and never leave until we get sick of eachother’ kind people, y’know?”

With his hands free, Sonic tugs on the cuff of his glove. “We both need our space, we already talked about that, and I don’t.. I don’t know how much y’re doing this cause you’re bedridden?”

“No, I know, but why would I be tired of you? I... like spending time with you, I told you that. You make staying here bearable...”

Sonic shifts again, opposite ear twitching. “Just a hunch.”

He looks away again, despite Ruby’s eye contact being mostly for show. His stomach twists into familiar anxiety. “A few months ago I barely figured out if I woudl throw up if you held my hand or not, dude. I ‘unno where your line is drawn.. If you’re just here right now cause it’s convenient or...”

He twitches, not exactly discreetly. “You know I’m bad at this.”

“I know,” Ruby replies, a little fond and a little concerned and a little in thought. His ears swivel towards Sonic. “...You think this is going to stop.”

Sonic tilts his head, a ‘so-so’ kind of thing. “Hell if I know.”

And he doesn’t really know, not clearly. It isn’t a clear cut deal, sorting through his thoughts when they get tangled up in the mess that is emotions. It’s-- a lot, a lot of overwhelming, anxious stuff and things and Sonic can’t even differentiate the stuff from the things, but it sounds close enough, it sounds resonant enough, it sounds familiar and sort of... close. He didn’t think Jules was going to stop. He didn’t think Bernie was going to stop. 

“It... at least sounds like it,” Ruby sighs, cupping Sonic’s cheek, to which Sonic replies by nuzzling into his palm like Ruby had done earlier with him. 

“...I worry about that, too,” he says, vaguely like a confession. “That this will stop. That you will change your mind.”

Sonic blinks, leaning into Ruby’s hand. Smiles a little, a little sad. “That it’s temporary, yeah?”

As if he can detect it, Ruby returns the sad, empathetic smile a little. “Yeah.”

Sonic sighs in the quiet of the night, slipping his fingers inbetween the ones Ruby has on his cheek. They hold eachother’s remaining hands. “Do you.. think it’ll stop?”

Ruby shakes his head, bringing their held hands closer. “Why would I say no to a free pillow and conversation? You are annoying, but not that annoying.”

Sonic laughs, louder and more genuine than his nervous, awkward laughs. He fully tangles his fingers with the hand Ruby keeps on his cheek, pulling it down. His head falls, his nose bumps against Ruby’s where he closes his eyes and breathes through the insecurity clouding his head. Ruby worries about the same thing. He opens his eyes again, and inhales a little relief when Ruby smiles.

“The.. line. The 'this isn’t my thing’ or ‘I got bored, I guess’ line. D’you know where you draw it yet?”

Ruby’s eyes are close and Sonic can see him thinking, ears twitching, blushing. It’s... cute. “Do you?”

“Well-- doing this isn’t the end of the world,” Sonic says, somewhat playfully, and more relief filters in when he recognizes his own playfulness. “I think it’s... a mood-dependant thing, but.. you?”

Ruby leans up a little, enough to nuzzle their noses together, and Sonic snorts as he answers. “I think I can make do.”

[windingdrabble]

So maybe this wasn’t the best time to be having a panic attack, but it isn’t like Sonic has ever had much agency when it comes to having them at all.

He could feel his hands go numb when Ruby stopped breathing. Better hearing be damned, it picks up on a lot of tiny things-- and it’s hard to miss sick-Ruby’s heavy breathing. He likes to believe he’s usually pretty good at keeping himself at bay emotionally, and he is, he knows, most people don’t know Sonic the Hedgehog has panic attacks, but the hot tears still clinging to his cheeks and the guilt and dread that had already leaked over during his conversation with Ruby doesn’t give him a headstart-- he was okay five seconds ago, well not okay but breathing and responsive and Sonic calling his name wouldn’t have fallen on deaf ears, he would’ve said something if he was okay, why wasn’t he responding, why wasn’t he breathing, why is everyone freaking out?

A hand on his shoulder breaks him out fo the fog in his head enough. The hospital room had been empty five seconds ago-- was it five seconds? A minute? An hour?-- but now the swarm of people around him makes him stumble his clumsy way towards the door. The hand-- the hand is still yanking at him, everyone’s voices are so loud and their feet on the floor are so loud and the hand on his shoulder is foreign and wrong and everything is wrong, so, so wrong.

He feels walls he can’t put his hands on, the air in the cramped space short and hot and uncomfortable and wrong, really wrong. Machine wheels roll on the tiles, heart, someone’s yelling at him to leave and the hand keeps pulling and pulling and pulling and Sonic tries and tries and tries to pull himself together, to think rationally, to ignore the thought of when another doctor had walked into his mom’s room and had shaken his head sadly upon leaving it, to forget the image of his mom peacefully on her bed, one hand outstretched and cold, cold, cold, Ruby can’t be cold. 

Sonic’s cold, and he’s hot too-- too cold, too warm, a teetering seesaw. The hand is back, and Sonic whips around and smacks it away, stumbles to turn around, clutches his stuttering chest. ‘I wanted to die’ reverberates in his frazzles head, Ruby’s voice still hopeless and dull and sad and Sonic caused that, Sonic made him want to die, he made him want to die, he almost got him killed, he might just have killed him, he’s dead, fuck. Ruby died in pain and Sonic caused it, in all possible aspects. 

He crashes through the door, vaguely aware of the fresh air hitting his face that feels lukewarm at best, only slightly less suffocating. He can’t breathe, fuck, now he’s going to suffocate, too. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, except it isn’t fine and tears burn his eyes and make breathing so much harder than it already is and his hands are numb and he doesn’t know where he’s running.

He crumbles into a hyperventilating mess, arms shooting out to grapple with the roots of a tall tree- he fell, he probably fell, those aren’t his hands, those aren’t his arms. He’s dead, Ruby’s dead, he killed him, all because he had to go and act like a stupid soap opera character and yell, he yelled at him, he made him want to die. 

The hands shake, they twitch, they catch tears before they move to try and stop them. Someone’s hands are rubbing against his eyes, that’s someone else’s contact, and he doesn’t know how that is-- he barely notices the sob he hears is his own voice.

That’s stupid-- of course thos are his hands, he retorts to the voice in his head, The voice, convincing, conniving, keeps repeating itself. Those aren’t your hands, they don’t feel like your hands. That can’t be you, you died on your way here. 

Sobs keep tearing through raw throat, hands shaking, breathing short, wrong, wrong-- everything wrong, everything’s wrong, and after a while, it starts to feel less like an out of place thing. The hands in front of him twitch, the gloves dotted with tears, the breathing comes back slowly, painfully slowly (who’s pain is that?), the crying stops, and then everything stops. It gives him whiplash, the going from panicking about being dead after killing his friend to numb... floating. Floating somewhere and nowhere. Physically, something is there, whatever that something is, but mentally he’s who knows where. Anywhere that isn’t then an there.

Maybe the voice was right and he did die.

By the time his hands (His hands, those are his hands. The scars are still there.) on his skin stop feeling like sandpaper on glass, and by the time the absurdity of his thoughts trickle back in (Dead? Why would he be dead?), the sun is going down, and his energy is at negative levels. He feels it all again-- the grass under him, the bark on his back, the night breeze on his clammy face, the dread and fear and guilt of the thought of Ruby flatlining. He doesn’t know whether the hauntingly empty feeling is better than the opposite. 

Ruby needs to be okay-- Ruby is okay. He’s okay, he has to convince himself of that. They would have called him if something had gone wrose than usual. That’s... hospital rules or something. Doctor rules.  Sonic just hopes none of the doctors mentioned his reaction to Ruby. Then again, he isn’t sure how to explain the messed up voice and eyes puffy enough to come from a fish.

He’s so tired.

[windingdrabble]

Maybe it’s the anxiety he finds himself somehow accumulating in his day to day, but part of himself is always beside his communicator. His track record with the thing is awful, and Tails has asked him to keep it charged so, so many times in plenty of aggravation, and Sonic, in plenty of his own frustration at his spotty memory, has tried several times. He at least has kept its battery filled up more often than not after the war (again, mounting anxiety), but unintentional ghosting might as well be his middle name. The moment Ruby was admitted into the hospital, though, and Sonic was in his right mind enough to have a coherent thought, he kept checking his wristwatch. Over, and over, and over again, to the tune of his tapping foot, to the twitch of his cramping hand. He’d been at the reday to pick up the call that came in earlier the day before, and twice as ready to bolt off into Ruby’s hospital room as quickly as possible. 

They hadn’t told him anything over the phone, not that he minded. The hospital is a hop, skip and a jump away from pretty much anywhere he may happen to be (maybe a hop, skip and two hops if there’s.. traffic or something), as are the benefits of sonic speed. They’d still kept him in the dark when he’d shown up, though-- solemn looks, uncomfortable silence, tension so thick he could choke on in, and almost did when directly asking the doctor changed nothing. Same silence, same suspense, same pit in his stomach, same stab in his chest with every step closer to Ruby’s room. His knitting feelings burst into an even bigger miss, concealed as it had been, when Ruby hadn’t said anything before grabbing his face and touching him-- his ears, the corners of his eyes, his burning cheeks that Sonic half expected to burn Ruby’s hands off (bare hands, no gloves. He’s never felt Ruby’s hands without his gloves.) I’m going blind, he’d said, nose pressed against Sonic’s own, his palpable desperation urging Sonic to hold him in some way, some comforting, grounding way. His hands found their clumsy way to Ruby’s shoulders, stomach doing flips every time Ruby’s fingers grazed over one of his freckles. He’d started to count them, at some point. At some point, over the urgent and somehow still tender look Ruby kept him under, Sonic’s pounding heart registered he was tallying them. 

He hadn’t known what to do-- with the situation, with the contact, with the amount of emotion he could feel radiate from Ruby’s namesakes, with the guilt that tied a knot in his throat and tensed his shoulders and made him bite back niggling thoughts of you don’t deserve this. You caused this, he’d heard it say as he’d watched Ruby rub his ears and trace his lips and the corners of his eyes that had at some point filled with tears. His mouth had opened lamely-- closed and opened like a useless fish, if a dying fish could care to hold back an apology equally as uncoordinated and his hands migrating to hold Ruby’s wrists. He’d felt the hospital ID bracelet, looked at the contrasting white against Ruby’s fur, looked at the foreign contrasting white that shouldn’t be there, that wouldn’t be there at all if he hadn’t fucked up royally for the fiftieth time in his life. 

Sonic had forced a smile; Sonic always forces a smile. If anyone were to tell it, though, they usually would just say he smiled casually, easily, simply. It’s Sonic the Hedgehog, it’s what he does, it’s what he needs to do when his friend is going blind right in front of him (so much so he could feel Ruby’s breath almost), when there’s more contrasting white all around his chest and it’s all Sonic’s fault. It’d been a bell ringing in his ears, and he’d been right underneath it as it rings, loud and incessantly: it’s all your fault. His breathing had hitched, he’d choked on regret and grief and fear and guilt, guilt thicker than the tension at the hospital door. A vice grip had clamped down on Ruby’s wrist, hands shaking as he held on and could still smell the blood of the day Ruby had nearly been killed. He’d nearly killed him.

“I’m sorry,” he’d laughed-- laughed, of all things. He’d smiled, too; sad and clumsy and cracking at the seams. They didn’t need to have called him, he realizes. If Ruby wanted to, if Ruby hadn’t seen it as necesary, he could have waited it out until his eyes had given out, until he’d been alright enough to keep his usual Ruby I’m-Always-Angry countenance, until he wouldn’t have needed to be a vulnerable, open, bleeding wound. Ruby had wanted him there, Ruby had wanted to see him. Ruby had wanted the last thing he saw to be him; the one who took his eyesight away in the first place, and Sonic couldn’t keep everything caged inside his chest anymore at how undeserving he was of something like that. He couldn’t even smile when it counted, when that’s probably the only thing Ruby wanted out of this.

Ruby has always been a bit illogical.

“I’m sorry,” he’d parroted in a thick voice, thunking his head against Ruby’s despite the knee-jerk ‘you don’t deserve that either’ thoughts. His smile is nailed to his face with weak screws and nails. “You prolly didn’t call me so I could-- You wanted-- I-- I can’t..”

Had shaken his head, at a desperate loss amongst the growing rubble of his steel defenses. “You didn’t call me so I could-- I could cry on you, that’s--”

“I did this,” Sonic manages, looking back at Ruby’s eyes, equally as lost as him. “I yelled at you and I almost got-- got you killed and-- and your-- your eyes--”

They’re still pretty, he’d though amongst the mess in his brain, through the water in his vision. They’re a little foggy, but they could be covered in dust and grime and Sonic wouldn’t care, would just find a different way of looking at them, because through his pathetic sobs he’d realized he wouldn’t mind looking at Ruby’s eyes for the rest of his life. From up this close, foreheads together, Ruby’s nose against his, fingers wiping his wet cheeks.

And he was ruining this, ruining everything for Ruby. The screws on the corners of his smile fall with a wracking sob, the plastic attempt at a mask in shambles at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry,” he’d heard spoken into his fur, the out of place contraction calling him to attention enough. Ruby had been crying too, and Sonic had reached over to hold his face rather than his wrists at some point during that realization punching him in the stomach. Don’t cry, he’d wanted to say, too, but it’d come out as more tears and more guilt. Ruby had nuzzled their foreheads together, and Sonic had responded in kind, instinctively. Ruby hadn’t taken his eyes off him the entire time, tears or otherwise. 

“I asked for this,” Ruby had whispered. “I told him to do this to me. I fucked up. I lied to you.”

Sonic’s heart had never ceased to leap out of his chest in desperation, as if he could rip out of Sonic and towards Ruby, to console him and comfort him and make the tears stop, even through its shriveling at the constant, constant you don’t deserve this in his ears. 

“I yelled at you,” Sonic had repeated, loud enough for the little world he and Ruby embodied in the moment to be privy to. 

“We both did,” had come the wet reply, Ruby’s hands holding the face of someone who’d betrayed him too gently, too softly, too heart-achingly delicate despite their shaking.

“I betrayed you,” Sonic had continued, a hand now at Ruby’s injured chest. Ginger touch, reluctant, regretful-- a Sonic gesture in name and nothing else. 

Ruby had laughed, too, tears growing thicker despite Sonic’s attempts to dry them. “We both did.”

[windingdrabble]

“So what’s wrong this time?”

It isn’t exactly a jab, the way he says it. It sounds like it should be, on paper, when you consider it’s Sonic the Hedgehog saying it, but in practice it’s a lot more genuine. It all is, the way he tilts his head, lays it down on his hand and props his elbow on the table.

Ruby’s ears twitch from across the table, though his eyes linger on the dark liquid that’s bound to have gone cold by now. He’s been staring at it all morning, has probably sipped from it… three times? Maybe? Definitely more time than he’s bothered to make eye contact, or as good as eye contact can get when you’re blind.

“Why do you ask?”

Sonic rolls his eyes. “You haven’t as much as looked as me since I got here, for one, and for two--” he points at the lukewarm coffee, “--you haven’t touched that since you made it, probably.”

Ruby’s blind, sure, he knows that, but he at least sometimes tries to make it appear like he isn’t. Sonic has told him several times that it’s completely unnecessary to keep it up when they’re alone, but if it helps Ruby deal with it better, then who’s Sonic to take it away from him? He only prefers to interfere when it gets clearly in the way or Ruby’s physical or mental health, like, actually, right now.

He doesn’t get a reply for a few seconds, which doesn’t help Ruby’s case, until he fills the silence with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I am just tired. Not much sleep to speak of.”

“And I don’t get panic attacks when I’m in crowded places,” he deadpans back, earning a surprised look from the other hedgehog, probably because of the bluntness with which he says it. A bit dark, but it got Ruby’s attention. “Wow, look at that, y’ got red eyes. I forgot, since you haven’t stopped making googly eyes at the rim’a your mug.”

Ruby’s namesakes narrow somewhat, or more so they frown. Sonic can tell there’s some attempt at getting a little intimidation going, but it more so looks-- begrudging. He sighs, scooting his chaos closer to Ruby’s left and settling it back down when he’s close enough to him. He lays back down on the table, next to the coffee of such dire interest, crosses his arms, and blinks up at his boyfriend.

“Y’ can feel me here, right?”

“You know I can,” Ruby huffs, and Sonic doesn’t miss the glint of affection that flickers on his face. As short lived as it is, he takes it as a victory. He sighs, tilting his head.

“C’mon, I don’t bite. /You/ know that.”

He looks up, at the eyes that he knows can’t see his, the reflections of internal turmoil and dreadful exhaustion staring back at him. Sonic’s ears fold back, a frown pulling at his mouth/ Ruby can’t see him, so there’s no need to pull up a poker face for his sake, no need to hide the worry he can’t help but feel when Ruby’s so clearly caught up in something.

“Y’ kinda look like when I’m drifting or floating, s’ it something like that?”

Ruby blinks something slow and thoughtful, looking right through Sonic and into his own brainworks. His gaze falls, and the lack of an answer and constant thinking and reasoning makes Sonic think he’s right on the money-- he does all of that when dissociating because he forgets what he’s doing five seconds from deciding on doing said something, but Ruby shakes his head.

“I… really have not slept well,” he seemingly settles on, murmuring quietly. No need to speak too loud when your subject of conversation is right in front of you.

Sonic bites the inside of his cheek, humming at the fact he really isn’t trying to use that as an excuse. His hand wanders, just enough to grab a loose hold of Ruby’s fingers and tangle them together.

“You mean while I’ve been gone?”

Ruby nods, and the admission seems to make whatever was holding him sitting up null, because he droops closer to the table and closer to Sonic. More reflexively than anything, Sonic holds his hand tighter, leaning up let Ruby rest on his forehead.

“You were…” the dark hedgehog hesitates, frowning to himself, “...in them. And things happenned.”

Sonic hums in acknowledgement, propping himself up and holding Ruby’s shoulder to get him to sit up again. “Descriptive, aren’t you?”

Ruby huffs, but Sonic’s glad he kept his tone gentle to keep him from thinking it was a joke at his expense. It probably helps that they’re still holding hands.

“What sort’a things?” “You were angry,” Ruby mutters, rubbing a thumb over the side of Sonic’s hand. “Like when we fought.”

Sonic blinks, looking down at his feet in a quick ashamed blink, guilt that stings of old transgressions nibbling at his chest. He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders back. “Right..”

Blinks. Blinks, blnks again. He can still remember that, even if it sometimes feels like forever ago. So much has happenned since they had their falling out, since Ruby had almost died, since Sonic had almost lost something he didn’t know he’d ever want, since Sonic almost messed up royally, again. For the millionths time in his life, it sometimes felt like. He doens’t like thinking on what he did wrong and prefers to concentrate on what he can do right, the past is in the past, but sometimes things leave imprints. Sometimes things leave claw marks, sometimes things give Ruby nightmares after the fact, and sometimes Sonic is the reason he has those nightmares he really, really doesn’t need.

He likes to think, sometimes, a lot fo the time, that he made up for it in his mind, and most of the time he feels he’s right. They’ve been going steady for a long time now, they’ve gotten through Sonic’s own stuff. But just like the war had left its mark, maybe Sonic had, too, in his unjustified lashing out.

“I’m sorry,” he says before he can think about saying it, but too long after he feels he wants to say it. “That-- that you.. That you’re still, y’know.”

Ruby blinks, slow and sad and insecure, and Sonic all at once is back to wanting to punch himself in the face for ever saying everything he’d said that day, suddenly wants to take back his hand and excuse himself before he says something wrong again, before he almost loses all this in a pool of blood all over again. He did that, he’s the reason Ruby’s still scared, he’s the reason Ruby thinks he would just leave somebody who he’s also terrified will leave /him./ His shoulders stiffen, his fur bristles, a cold sheet grows over his fur.

They’ve talked about this before, about how Ruby’s terrified when Sonic leaves a room, about how Sonic’s scared to close his eyes and see a spear through Ruby’s chest, but that was in the hospital, and what does Sonic’s dumb dreams matter in any of this? That was his fault.

“You don’t deserve that,” he settles on after opening his mouth and not hearing a sound come out after a few tries. “To.. still think I’m going to turn on you ‘r something…”

All Ruby does is blinks again, still sad and still not getting Sonic’s message-- Sonic can see his words go in one ear and out the other, and he wants to make them stay, wants to make them have some sense of permanence. He tightens his hold on Ruby’s hand, despite the way his mind scolds him for still holding unto someone he hurt so bad. You made him want to die, the anxiety hisses, twists his heart and his stomach and makes him sick and makes him shiver. Thoughts like that aren’t going to help him, he already knows they’re unproductive and uselessly self-blaming, but for a second the flashes of you don’t deserve this flash a blinding reminded in his mind’s eye.

And Ruby still doesn’t say anything.

“You know I won’t do that again, right?” he asks, managing to keep back the need to know there’s some part of Ruby that has faith.

And there is, he can see it where the fondness was before, but it’s muddied, it’s swamped over an ocean of doubt and fear and longing. It’s all so clear on a usually stoic face. Sonic’s heart seizes, and shrivels up somewhere in the aching cavity of his chest. Anxiety rings like a bell in there still, bumping into the usual protective pull he feels more often than not. When someone is stuck in a burning building and his own chance of survival is small, when Tails was small and his plane took a nosedive for the ground and grief blinded him for a second, when Ruby was bleeding out on the ground and through the separation of Super Sonic and Normal Sonic, all he could hear from his thoughts was ‘you’re okay, you’re okay, you’ll be okay, I got you, I need you,’ when Ruby had a breakdown the first day he was in the hospital and Sonic held his hand, when his eyesight was fading and he spent an entire evening just staring at Sonic’s face, looking over Sonic’s freckles and commenting on the way his nose crinkles when he smiles, and Ruby didn’t know it that day, or any day, but all Sonic could hear form his thoughts that day as he saw him smile like it was only them alone in this world was a clear ‘I love you.’

“I love you,” he repeats, somehow unfiltered through the anxiety of saying as much, through the fear of making that official to himself. Somehow, it’s clear, it’s quiet, it’s genuine.

The eyes he knows so well widen, a cyclone of emotions in them too intertwined for Sonic to decode. He hears Ruby gasp quietly, and Sonic doesn’t know he’s holding his breath, also knows that he’s holding his breath, feels a cloud fog up his mind and clutches Ruby’s hand to stop himself from floating away and keep himself present despite the nerves coursing a racetrack through his body. He doesn’t usually say things like that, has never said as much out loud. Neither of them have, save for Ruby deliriously saying the same thing while he was taken to surgery.

“I love you too,” comes the grounding response, weighing him down and lifting him up with relief, both at the same time-- not in a spaced out disconnected kind of way. Ruby does something close to laughing, bringing his other hand to gingerly run his fingers down Sonic’s cheek, and Sonic finds himself laughing back at ‘I love you, so much.’

“Don’t cry,” he scoffs, now choked up with relief and expelled anxiety, some fo which still makes the tips of his fingers numb. “What is this, a soap opera?”

“It feels like it sometimes,” Ruby manages out, opting to hold Sonic’s face than to wipe his eyes, leaving Sonic to do it himself. Sonic laughs again, leaning his face into Ruby’s palm and grinning into it, stomach fluttering in his stomach where the anxiety has started to leave for now.

“Well, don’t get used to that. I don’t say stuff like that for free.”

Ruby smiles, eyes twinkling away the sadness he’d seen hold back their gleam earlier. “I know.”

[windingdrabble]

“Are you alright?”

He can vaguely hear the question through the fog of exhaustion, flicks his ears against it. He waits for them to spring back up, like they should, but they just wilt forward against his head. Even making them budge feels like a huge task-- and, normally, he’d jump headfirst into a huge task. Would call it a breeze and have it cleared out by morning, wouldn’t find it so hard to shake his head at the question. The only thing he still has in him to do is wince habitually at the admission.

Ruby hums, and Sonic can see him putting down his cup, from the corner of his eye. There’s still a bit of heat radiating from it in waves, a trace of coffee scent trailing all the way to his meekly twitching nose. He rustles Ruby’s fur as he does so, still finding the same thing there, and all around their kitchen. Maybe he’s caught Ruby at a weird time, and that would’ve probably been planned to be as optimally irritating as he can be, but even leaning on Ruby like this his feet stumble from how suddenly he had to let go of his weight. He hides appreciatively in the dark fur again-- Ruby’s tough and probably thinks he’s as light as a feather, anyway.

His sigh is equally as heavy at the feeling of fingers in his quills, the puff of air near his ear that turns into a nose rubbing against it.

“I was confused as to why you came back early,” goes the voice, right where the nose is, and quiet as if any volume higher would break the windows. “You said you would be gone until around the end of the week.”

“Plans change,” Sonic huffs, snaking his arms around the other hedgehog and keeping them there, hands sifting through the fur at Ruby’s sides for something solid. Warm, it’s warm-- he can pick up on that through the gloves.

“I do not doubt that,” he hears the reply, feels the subsequent nuzzle, and Ruby carefuly shifting underneath him. He isn’t surprised when he feels support under the crooks of his legs and on his back, or when his feet are no longer on the kitchen tiles. His arms clumsily change to wrap around Ruby’s neck, sluggish to find a safe place to burrow into in the nook of Ruby’s neck.

It gets a little easier to ignore errant sounds, muffled by the familiar heartbeat. Sonic shakes his head, picturing a set of bulky shoes making the footsteps he hears, and not anything else. The creaking of wood is because of the wind, the doors are shut, the windows are shut. He works his fingers in and out of the black fur at the other’s shoulders before discarding one of his gloves on what he thinks is the stairs of the cabin. The thump was the glove, it was the glove. Right.

“I thought I saw somethin’.”

It’s quiet for a second, which Ruby spends sitting down on the bed and waiting for Sonic to let go-- long enough for them to settle down, anyway. He does as much, finding his hands more interesting than making eye contact. He sees Ruby sit up against the headstand and joins him, feeling the mattress bend under his movements until he’s settled back against him the same way he was while being carried upstairs. He has time to be mad at himself for that later.

“Something like what?”

“Green, this time,” Sonic lets out along with his sigh, rolling his shoulder until he halfway undoes the stress knots keeping them stiff and at the sides of his head. Dust and remnant coffee unwinds his muscles, the breathing in his ear a tempo to count to. Deep breath in, slow breath out. He frowns, concentrating on the combination of it all that makes his current pillow.

“Thought I saw the eyes,” he scoffs, deflating and relieved to find he isn’t inflating back up. Sonic’s arm goes back to holding Ruby close, brushing through his fur again, the blankets on the bed while on the way to his side. The comforting crackle of Ruby’s Chaos Energy rumbles like static-- comforting static, this time. One group of noises, one person. “I think I need glasses.”

Ruby has the good graces of giving a quiet laugh at Sonic’s attempt at a joke. It’s soft and quiet, but Sonic wishes he got to hear it more. There’s a blanket around his shoulder now, and it smells oddly like lavender, is warmer than the rest of the bed. His tired thought is Ruby must have washed them.

“I am the only one allowed to be blind here,” the dark hedgehog mumbles, back to nuzzles Sonic’s ear. There’s a few kisses there, and Sonic dissapears further into Ruby’s comforting presence more and more with each one. “Though, that probably was not there, you know.”

Sonic nods at the more serious tone, fluttering his eyes closed. It’s still so soft, so delicate. Ruby’s voice is like velvet to his ears, especially after so many noises to jump at. “It was.. Prolly a bug.”

Ruby purrs and Sonic hums as he slumps further into him almost on command. He feels him lean back a smidge more, wraps the blanket and his arms tighter around him. Sonic’s future self already wants to deny its protective nature, but right now he doesn’t want it to be anything else.

“A plant, a bird, a bug..” he keeps going, rubbing Sonic’s back to the rhythm of his listing. “All of them at once.”

“Think I would’a heard all’o those loud n’ clear,” he replies into Ruby’s neck. The rhytmic nature of the gentle voice is almost like a weird sort of lullaby. “I get th’ message, though..”

Ruby kisses him again, and he curls up closer to the warmth.

“C’n y’ talk?”

“....Is that a rhetorical question..?”

“Mm, no,” Sonic shakes his head, leaning back just enough so his voice is clearer. Barely, with on eye equally as barely open. “Can y’ just… talk? About whatever, just.. Background noise.”

There’s movement underneath him, and despite his earlier attempts, ends up meeting Ruby’s namesakes. They’re equally as soft as his voice, the fire of safety swirling somewhere in the red of them. Sonic moves his muzzle to meet Ruby’s when his face gets nearer, whatever surviving energy still in him pushing up to lean against Ruby’s cheek.

“If you want me to, love,” he replies against Sonic’s cheek, sneaking in another peck before Sonic retreats back to the nook of his neck. The blanket is more snug against him, rubbing circles where scars don’t touch Sonic’s back. Sonic closes his eyes again.

“Tails came by earlier, actually. He said he had a book he wanted to show me.”

His hand cards through Ruby’s fur still. Deep breath in, slow breath out. He smiles a bit.