What You See

Is Kind Of Cute

"We all bring out the best things in each other; together we are stronger than anyone else could be on their own"

We Can // Sonic Heroes

The blue hedgehog peeks into the bushes. Nothing. He zooms to the next bush. Nothing. He zooms to check another, and another, and another.

An hour ago, Sonic had mass called the group. And in this particular hour, he was able to fill them in on the dire situation at hand. Tails was to fix the machine and the rest were to find you.

Sticks and Knuckles are off on their own to cover more ground while Amy tags along with Sonic. The blue blur in front of Amy makes her head spin. It's like he was in her head, running around and around and around. And not the good kind. Why this blue hedgehog was on her mind so often? She doesn't know, and if she did, she would immediately brush it away. After all, it didn't matter anyway. It's obvious who is on his mind as he checks the hundredth bush.

He backs away, cupping his face within his hands. She has seen this before. He would check every nook and cranny within the forest, only taking a seconds to recuperate before repeating the whole process. It's evident that looking for you has taken a toll, he's burned out. And yet, an indescribable worry pushes him to keep going.

Amy raises a hand to her temple, attempting to soothe her throbbing head. She now wonders if it's actually from Sonic's speed, or the underlying possibility that his thoughts were filled with you instead of her.

You're her friend, don't get her wrong. Baking cookies, taking trips to the library, settling down with her for a cup of tea, you love hanging out with her as much as she does with you. It's only when Sonic knocks on her door, asking for you instead of her that makes her heart feel a twinge of pain. It's only when you are the one that Sonic chooses to take to the movies weekly, when you both seem to have your own special language, when he would be willing to slow down so should you ask. That's when the feelings of jealousy arise.

"Sonic," she begins. Her headache begins to die down, and he slows down his search. Knowing it was his own way of letting her know he's listening, she takes a breath. She rubs her elbow sheepishly, looking up in the air before turning to him. "What do you like about her?"

He freezes his searching, surprising Amy as he unexpectedly turns around to meet her. He rubs the back of his head, awkwardly waving with his other. "What do you mean? As a friend? She's cool, you know," he rambles, chuckling meekly to fill in the awkward pauses.

He slouches his shoulder as Amy raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. It's evident that she isn't satisfied with that answer. She was curious about how he feels to you, yes, but you were also her close friend. There is no way she's going to let Sonic call you "cool" and call it a day. She's not as close to you as Sonic is, but she can at least list a few things other than "cool." "Sonic, you're stalling."

He scoffs, folding his arms. "Stalling? Not stalling. Why would I stall? I hate stalling," Amy picks up the alarm within his voice, "in fact here's a list of the things I like better than stalling: root beer coloring books, bean burritos, first day of spring, second day of spring, third day of spring..."

She coughs, instantly grabbing his attention from his monologue. Sonic's ears droop, and he turns away from Amy's expectant gaze. "Fine. I admit it. I don't know."

Amy gives him a half-lidded expression, turning away from him. But he continues talking, "She's... just her." Amy stops in her tracks, slowly turning back to him.

All his life, Sonic had ran with no finish line. The winds he effortlessly escorts and the ground that cheers for him were his only companions. Now that you were his finish line, he would do the indescribable: slow down. He'd jog, walk to your pace. Albeit, he won't lie, it gets immensely frustrating sometimes, but in the end he hasn't caught himself regretting it. It's an indescribable feeling going your pace. Something that feels a little different than running. He can't put his finger on it.