traitor || sonadow angst

iii

TW: SH

Sonic opened his eyes, blinded by the bright sunlight. He was in his bed. Was it just a nightmare?

He glanced at his nightstand, sighing when he saw a folded piece of paper. He hesitantly unfolded the note, mentally bracing himself.

'Sonic... I'm so sorry. I never wanted to leave you. I hope you never have to know why I left or where I am, but believe me when I tell you this: If the circumstances were different, I wouldn't have even considered leaving. I am sorry for distancing myself, but I was trying to do it for you. I failed to make it painless, and I failed you, my love. I love you, and I will love you for as long as I live. I will never love another, I promise you that. Pretend I died, so you can mourn, but you know I won't be coming back. Please, try to forget me.'

Oh my god. I'm never gonna see him again.

Tears fell from his eyes, one after another, until he could no longer see. He collapsed back into the bed, forcing the flow of tears to cease. He lay there, maybe for five minutes, maybe twenty - he didn't know - before heaving himself back up and willing himself into the kitchen. He pulled yesterday's leftovers from the fridge, then sat at the counter, poking at the food with his fork. He huffed, capping the container and returning it to the fridge. He couldn't eat like this.

He walked to the knifeblock in front of the window. He hated what he was thinking. He hated that he had even considered it, that he didn't even consider an alternative, but what else was he to do? His hand grazed over the hilt of each knife, inspecting them one by one. He carefully chose one, watching it slide out of the block. He slumped down against the counter, inspecting the knife, watching it tremble with his hand.

He though about Shadow, wondering if he would stop him. Would he help? Would he even care? Of course he would. He loved him, after all.

"Fuck!" He cried as he subconsciously dug the knife into his arm. He lifted the knife, watching the blood bubble to the surface. It was mesmorizing. He hated it.

He had no idea tears were pouring down his face until he couldn't see clearly anymore. He felt like he was on fire. He fucking hated it.

If Shadow were here, he would stop him, embrace him, and tell him it would be okay. But he wasn't here. He was gone, forever.

He felt like a highschooler, like he was sitting in the gender-neutral washroom, cutting himself angstily. Maybe he was just an angsty teen. Or, perhaps, his favourite person had just abandonned him. Either way, he felt pathetic.

The blade danced and weaved through his arms, until he could barely take it anymore.

He stared at the lacerations, watching the blood soak into his clothes. 'Who cares anymore', he thought to himself. To hell with the hero of Mobius. He felt like a husk. Maybe his friends would take over.

Astor. I know you're PMSing. I know every part of your body hurts and you're this close to overdosing on advil, and I know you've had to rewrite every SINGLE CHAPTER SEVERAL TIMES, but you did NOT need to do Sonic this dirty.

I deeply apologize lol