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nixoon-again · 1 month ago

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hi 👋

#obligatory im alive btw update #also im graduating next month what

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nixoon-again · 11 months ago

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Miles loves looking at the stars.

For most of his life, it was the only form of comfort available to him. On those dark nights when he'd bolt up from a night terror, breathless, trembling and drenched in his own sweat, he'd crawl out of his current resting place and find a tall tree to sit in so he could get a clear view of the night sky above him. He'd sit there, up on the highest branch of that tree — the rough and quick climbing would tear at the seams of his old shirt that felt more like a rag than an article of clothing — spending hours upon hours with his head turned upwards to look at the night sky. He'd worry not for the pain his neck would be in later nor the hours spent sleepless, gazing upon the twinkling little lights against the ethereal blanket of the universe providing a substantial alternative to slumber.

When he couldn't sleep, too tired of tossing and turning on the cold grounds of the forest just outside the village, or when he was hurt badly enough that he couldn't muffle his cries of pain to stay hidden, he'd find a higher place to spend the night stargazing and the night sky was the only thing he could have had to himself, making sure to find a secluded and quiet place where no soul could find him under the endless sea of the stars.

Although climbing the trees always proved to be a bit of a difficult task for him, the tradition continued for what felt like ages.

Miles loves the stars.

He enjoyed climbing taller places to see them too.

But Miles doesn't like his hands.

His hands always make climbing difficult — they make everything difficult.

He preferred using his twin tails to fly up to higher places instead but the villagers left those appendages unmovable more often than not. It hurt too much to fly with them. His wings were out of the question — having lost most of their function at such a young age, he couldn't fly with them. He considered himself lucky when he could move them just enough to cover himself on colder nights when his tails couldn't provide enough warmth for him, too malnourished to develop a winter coat.

That left him with his hands to climb as his last option — his hands that are marred with little scars, his hands that can't let life survive, can't hold on to anything or anyone alive, his hands that took away all forms of life on contact and—

He never had gloves, he could hold nothing.

(He would be gifted some later by his saviour and he'd learn they do little to help.)

He still remembers when he tried to put a little baby flicky that had fallen from its nest back. Its mother came back to find it dead.

Needless to say, climbing higher places when he couldn't let his hands touch them directly was hard, it hurt.

But Miles loves the stars.

He can handle being a little hurt to get the things he loves.

(And, Chaos, will those words come back for him.)

He shifts so he can wrap his tails around his body a bit more comfortably — looking at the crackling campfire, Miles thinks that regardless of it all he hadn't needed climbing any high places in a while now. He's content with how the stars look from the ground. He's in no rush to find comfort, they're gonna be here longer than he will be so it's all good.

Besides Miles has been granted other forms of comfort too, something he never even fathoms would be true for him one day.

Something is softly deposited atop his head with a playful ruffle accompanying it, drawing a short lived giggle out of the fox kit before he swats the mischievous hands away with no ill intent. Miles doesn't need to look to see that the flower crown given to him by his companion is as perfect and beautiful a craft as always.

The hedgehog sits beside him on the log with a hum, eyes closed as he stretches his limbs with his signature cheeky grin.

Miles goes back to looking at the fire, bringing his knees close to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“Tails?”

Ah.

That's right, his name isn't Miles anymore.

“Mhm?”

“Whatcha thinking about, bud?”

“Nothin’,” He replies with a smile and Sonic doesn't ask him further.

Instead, the hedgehog simply opts to loop an arm around the fox and pull him in for a one sided hug several moments later.

Miles— no, Tails rests his head on the other's shoulder and uncurls a tail to wrap it around Sonic's torso instead.

Sonic never really needed any words to know when Tails is thinking about Miles.

And surely, it has been a while since Tails last thought about Miles — about that near feral little abandoned fox kit who was too terrified at the idea of touching anything alive. Hurt, scared, malnourished and all alone hiding in that forest around his old village where kids liked hunting him for sport. Tails is quite a bit different from Miles, however, seeing as Tails happens to be healthy, not nearly as afraid of every shadow at the corner of his vision, not nearly as alone, rarely ever hurt but that's on his own clumsiness and not some kind of harm done to him by another person and he's most definitely not alone anymore.

Sonic is here.

And thanks to him, he's not nearly as afraid of his hands as he used to be. Not around his big brother at least.

Tails thinks about that last bit and, almost on autopilot, he grabs Sonic's free hand in his own and the hedgehog gently gives his smaller hand a squeeze in return. A gesture they've shared since they've known each other, one that leaves no place for words. It serves as a silent reminder, a hushed sign, a quiet indication for the fox that Sonic isn't going anywhere, that Sonic won't be hurt by simply having the fox around, that somehow Sonic beats all odds against the curse Miles bore and passed onto Tails and remains unaffected under his fingertips. Gloves or not, unlike Miles, Tails won't hurt Sonic. Somehow Sonic makes sure of it always.

Miles loved the stars.

Tails does too.

But he's just fine with this one.

The stars may crumble in his hands but he'll always have his brother.

And he's grateful for that.

_____

Sonic is sick.

Tails doesn't know what went wrong.

He was perfectly fine, perfectly healthy. Sonic always made sure they both had more than enough to eat, they both got plenty of sleep (mostly) and they haven't travelled to any places where Sonic could have picked up a virus or anything from either. Sonic's not hurt, there are no injuries on his body and yet he looks so, so horribly pained that it's starting to hurt Tails as well.

It looks bad, Tails isn't any doctor and neither does he do as much as recognize Sonic's condition as something he knows of or has read in some book, and yet it looks bad.

It scares him.

(He's not ready to accept how the hollow lifeless look in those emerald eyes mimic those of a flicky he once tried to help.)

Sonic didn't come down with something all of a sudden, he didn't look like he'd been depleted of all his energy right after sleeping a full night right away. It happened slowly, gradually and Tails wants to punch himself for not catching the signs early on, for not getting him proper help at the first sign of the unusual wobble in Sonic's smile.

(It's funny because Tails did notice but every time he did as much as try to ask Sonic if he was okay, he was immediately brushed off with a, “I'm fine, don't worry.”)

The should haves and could haves don't really matter anymore, the problem is already out of his hands — not like it ever was in his control but now? Tails can't even remotely help his brother.

His condition keeps getting worse. Each passing day, Sonic gets hauntingly slower. He sleeps for longer, yet the are dark circle imminent under his eyes — the emeralds that user to be brimming with life were now left devoid of soul and feeling. As if something had sucked the life out of them.

Sonic is hurting.

But he won't tell Tails even though the kit can see the pain in his movements.

It's a terrifying notion; Tails can see Sonic losing a battle against an unseen opponent but can't help him, won't be allowed to help him.

One day Sonic doesn't wake up until sun begins to set again. That day, Tails finds himself crying.

He doesn't know what to do. He's confused and scared, too afraid to shake Sonic awake — too afraid to touch him.

Did he do this?

Is he hurting his big brother?

It doesn't sit right with him. He hates this feeling of guilt brewing in his gut. In the four years of knowing him, Tails has found that whatever curse his hands bore never effected Sonic.

And yet…

Looking at his sleeping form, his tired face and the pain behind closed eyes of an even closed and reserved hedgehog who is the only person Tails could love and trust, knowing a goodbye isn't in their story anytime soon — he can't help the tears that roll freely down his muzzle.

Because its not fair.

It's not fair that he has to be afraid if losing the only family he has — the family he oh so painstakingly found. It's not fair that he has to sit and cry silently because he doesn't know how to heal his brother. It's not fair that Sonic won't let him in, won't confide in him even when he has asked the kit to do just that with him so many times before. It's not fair that, out of all people, Sonic has to be the one suffering.

Before Tails could pray for whatever has befallen his big brother to happen to him instead, Sonic stirs awake.

He sits up, his action slower than his usual speedy self would allow him.

His quills are a mess and his eyes look so tired. He is quick to hide the grimace of pain that flares up in his chest as he moves his body to look at Tails.

Ocean eyes already puffy with tears and throat constricted with emotions that he has been silently crying only allow the kit to tilt his head to the side with a small frown as if asking Sonic what's wrong instead of his usual greeting.

Sonic looks at him and yet Tails feels those emerald eyes to be anywhere but on him. The silence that stretches between them as Sonic finds his words to answer the unspoken question is suffocating.

Then, he confesses,

“I'm dying.”

Neither look at each other.

“I know.”

Tails barely keeps his voice from breaking.

And that's perhaps the last words they share in a long, long time.

Tails silently wonders if it would've been better if he never found a family at all.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #au stuff #drabbles #so uh hi #have this ig

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nixoon-again · 11 months ago

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Wanted to draw some fanart of @nixoon-again Butterfly Boys au.

Aren't they the cutest!? I was going for a classic feel where they first meet each other and Sonic is still trying to gain Tails trust. How; well kids like cool things right? Somehow with Sonic & Tails power combined, they can make a mini shooting star.

Don't ask I have no clue.

And because I took so long, I drew a second one. 😋