"Drop it," was Sonic's snappy response. He was stubborn, not about to let Shadow impress upon him that his friends were traitors in any way. Perhaps the black hedgehog simply couldn't understand. He wasn't going to argue a moot point, and so highly discouraged Shadow from doing the same.
He huffed and, wanting to make absolutely certain his friend got the point, flopped down on his side with his back still turned to him. This discussion was obviously over, and Sonic was sorry he ever brought his friends up. He wasn't about to get lectured on his choices, and he knew why they weren't around. Not to mention they were children -- Tails eight, Amy thirteen -- and they were having a hard time dealing with their hero crumbling. It was understandable, common sense in Sonic's opinion.
He simply missed them terribly. It was a selfish thought, anyway.
His fingers tightened on his sheets, and his roughened expression softened into something more... longing. Longing for old times, longing for someone to understand, longing for things to be as they should instead of complicated and painful as they were now. And steadily, steadily, he felt that agony grip his chest, and he let out a slight choked whimper. He was so sick and tired of this. He wanted to go home. He wanted to relax under sunlight, legs outstretched, friends laughing and rejoicing.
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stillamobiandefender's journal
Re: [ action ]
Date: 2012-05-29 04:42 pm (UTC)From:He huffed and, wanting to make absolutely certain his friend got the point, flopped down on his side with his back still turned to him. This discussion was obviously over, and Sonic was sorry he ever brought his friends up. He wasn't about to get lectured on his choices, and he knew why they weren't around. Not to mention they were children -- Tails eight, Amy thirteen -- and they were having a hard time dealing with their hero crumbling. It was understandable, common sense in Sonic's opinion.
He simply missed them terribly. It was a selfish thought, anyway.
His fingers tightened on his sheets, and his roughened expression softened into something more... longing. Longing for old times, longing for someone to understand, longing for things to be as they should instead of complicated and painful as they were now. And steadily, steadily, he felt that agony grip his chest, and he let out a slight choked whimper. He was so sick and tired of this. He wanted to go home. He wanted to relax under sunlight, legs outstretched, friends laughing and rejoicing.
He would never have that ever again.