FicWad

Disclaimer: The characters used are not mine but are copyright of Sega and SonicTeam.

Warnings: There are referances to sex, but I don't do the whole sex scene bit, so there won't be any of that. And yes, this is a Sonadow based story. If you don't like it, fine, just don't bother flaming me for it, because I don't really care if you're just going to go "OMG EW. THEY'RE NOT GAY."

Author's Notes: This is completely AU (alternate universe.) They wear clothes...and do people stuff. haha. I kept some things, like Sonic being a hero. And this is first-person, Sonic's POV. First-person is my specialty anyway, and it's about time I start it again.

Review please! Please please please. I'm not begging, I swear...o.o Enjoy. :D

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Hidden

Chapter One: Shattered

"Sonic...you're the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

He ran off into the night and within seconds, I'm left with just a dark, empty path lying in front of me. For a moment, I could've sworn it was laughing at me, bearing it's teeth, attempting to smash my heart into even more pieces then the words had broken it into.

I could still see the dirt floating through the air that his jet shoes had caused.

My mind went...blank. It was literally speechless, mimicking my dry throat. Not that I can say anything anyway, he is long gone. He ran so fast, I forgot just how fast he could go until it was to get away from me.

I didn't mean to hurt him, I really didn't. Just...Amy, I can't let her go, and it's not even her, but more so the image. I am everyone's hero, I need that signature girl...not guy.

I've been hiding him for the past two years.

I still remember the night I met him. We were both in a bar that we would never go to, out at an hour that we would both never be out at, and fate shook both our hands.

I had a bad case of insomnia that month for some reason, I still couldn't tell you why, but at about 12 AM that morning, I decided to go out for a run. That's not the unusual part, the unusual part is where I ended up. I found myself in Marenden. It was that city that everyone knows of. We all have one. That city where you hear the police sirens only a few blocks away and you hope to death someone you know hasn't just gotten shot, a city where the streets were dirty, windows were boarded up, hookers were more frequent then the rats in the darkness (and they were everywhere), and every corner you took, you had to hope that your wallet would still be in your pocket half way down the block. It's the city not everyone has to live in, but everyone knows about. But this is Sonic the Hedgehog, I didn't fear anything then, I thought I was invincible, but it was still strange that I ended up there. I never visited, especially not at 12 in the morning.

The bar I found was even more odd for me to be in. The red neon sign read "Jack's Tavern," well, that's what it was supposed to be. When I stopped in front of it, it read "Ja k's vern," bulbs were burnt out. I stood there staring at the wooden door, debating whether or not to go in. I couldn't tell you why I did.

Inside wasn't too impressive either. It was a very dark atmosphere, so much, I thought a few lights were out in the place just like the sign outside. The ceiling must have once been a white but turned gray from all of the smokers. The walls were all wooden, chipped in more places then I could count. There were a few people to the right of the room, sitting at scattered tables, hardly engaging in any sort of conversation. All of them kind of just looked down at their drinks in a somber state.

'I probably won't be in here past five minutes.' I thought to myself.

I went straight for the bar, and I was the only one who occupied one of the stools there. The bottom of one leg was off on the stool I chose, so every which way I shifted, I'd tilt either to the left or the right.

'Maybe I'll be out in three.'

I eyed the turned bartender a bit before I asked for anything. He was a squirrel, probably around 27, four years older then myself, who looked like he was in the last place he wanted to be at the moment. He had a black, long-sleeved, button up shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to his actually muscular forearms. There was a tattoo showing through his brown fur, but I couldn't make it out.

He turned around with a rag and a clear glass. He slammed it on the bar, threw the rag behind him, knowing it would land in a bucket, which it did, and he peered down at me with intimidating eyes. "Whaddya want?" His voice was raspy, right along with the image he was putting off. He kind of reminded me of an old, dirty sailor without the uniform.

I just cocked an eyebrow at him. He obviously didn't know who I was, not that I really expected him too. This town was like a different country from where I lived and was known. I just looked at him as if I wasn't phased by anything, "vodka and orange juice on the rocks."

"Screwdriver." He mumbled to himself, more to store the drink into his short-term memory then for me to hear.

A deep voice seemed to come from out of nowhere. "Hm, a vodka drinker. I'll have a gin and tonic."

The bartender looked up to see his new customer, then back down to continue with the drinks.

I looked beside myself to notice the once empty seat was no longer, and now there wasn't one being ordering a drink but two. This black hedgehog painted with red stripes along his quills was now sitting beside me.

He leaned his elbows on the bar, and turned his head towards me casually, looking me dead in the eyes. I remember his ruby reds staring directly into my emerald for only a few seconds, but it seemed like an hour, and I didn't want to move.

He turned his head away from mine and took his drink from the bartender. He didn't bother to say thank you, but I did, which just resulted in a sort of grunt from the "sailor." This ebony creature must've been here before.

Although, I never would've guessed it. He didn't look like he would be in here at all. Despite his black and red fur, he didn't look the part for this place. He had this white dress shirt on, seemed to be ironed earlier on in the day, under a black jacket above plain black pants. His shoes were a bit of a different kind of attire though. Those white, black and red jet shoes I become all too familiar with later on. They were the only pair he had, they gave him his speed. I couldn't see them fully that night though, the black pants draped over them a little.

But he seemed a little too...classy for this dump.

As I looked him over, my eyes were burning into him and we both knew he felt it. He looked simple but I was drawn to him for some reason, and I've never been drawn to a guy. My fear of it was kind of pushed away considering no one knew me here, I was like a different person in a new world.

But I felt a connection before I even spoke.

I grabbed for my drink off the bar and that's when he turned to me, asking me if I wanted to move to a table instead of sitting on those stools, so we moved, though the tables weren't much better. How my stool wobbled earlier? Now the table did that, not to mention my shoes kept sticking to the floor.

After finally exchanging names, we talked about the usual "getting-to-know-you" things. I can't remember what words were spoken, but I do remember the image. His eyes, his face, his gesture, what he drank...The way his elbow sat on the table and his head leaned onto his hand, the way he smirked in that dark way saying that he was barely interested but wanted to know more, the way those red lines just above his eyes began and ended...I didn't know then he would become the only one that I would truly fall in love with.

I remember all of that perfectly. Come to think of it, I mustn't remember the conversation because I was so focused on what he looked like.

Before I knew it, I had five drinks in me and I hadn't seen the room move like that since I was on a merry-go-round as a kid. But the bar actually looked higher class with those drinks in me.

I know that I forgot a lot from that night after I hit six glasses, but I do remember thinking whether or not he was trying to seduce me, and why I was so...intrigued by that. It was the complete opposite of the straight-forward clinginess that my girlfriend, Amy, projected.

...I never did the whole "one night stand" thing before. I've had plenty of chances with girls, but I never thought it was a "nice" thing to do, tossing aside a girl after we've had sex the next morning, forgetting her name a few hours later. That just wasn't me. And just going home with some stranger from a bar seemed odd, before that night anyway. I couldn't help myself this time though. One, I was pretty much smashed, two...there was something mysterious about him that I was so drawn to he could've told me to do the chicken dance and I probably would have, just to spend more time with him.

I spent the night at his place, and I remember waking up to the most awkward moment I had ever experienced.

It was the first morning I woke up next to a guy.

Not the last, but the first, and it scared me. I wasn't gay, and I'm not now. I'm just...attracted to Shadow. If there was a sexuality called "Shadow," that's what I would be.

I remember lying there for at least an hour before waking him up. I thought about slipping out unnoticed and then running home...but I couldn't. Once again, I'm not like that, and I really couldn't leave him behind. I didn't want him completely out of my life. It was time for something new, and he seemed to fit the "new" bill.

I thought about a lot of things. What would happen if I stayed, if I left, if I should tell Amy, if I shouldn't, how I wish I could remember more of last night, and how I swore off alcohol (which only lasted until the next party I went to.) At one point, I pulled the cover off of me and I was actually very close to just up and leaving.

And then...I remember looking at him. He looked so completely opposite when he slept. He had that sort of devilish grin when he was awake, and he had a mischievous, and serious disposition about him, but when he slept, he looked innocent and peaceful. His eyes were gently shut, he curled himself into the blanket, his face was half pressed into the pillow, it was, dare I say, "cute."

I rolled over on my side so we would be facing each other. A smile I couldn't pull off with tweezers slipped onto my face as I gently shook his shoulder to wake him. When his eyes opened, it was like a new beginning to another chapter in my life.

But now, it feels like the beginning of the end to some tragic novel.

I'm back at my apartment building before I even realize I had left the spot where him and I just stood together, where I then stood alone with the words 'you're the worst thing that has ever happened to me' ringing through my head. I must have zoned out during the walk home, thinking about that night that changed my life.

I walk in through the glass doors. I look down at my watch as I hear them close behind me, '1:45 AM.' We must have been talking for awhile because the last time I looked at it, it read '10:30 PM.'

The lobby looks abandoned at this time of night. No one is behind the desk, the hallway that leads to the dining area is vacant, and the lights are dim. It gives me a sort of eerie feeling, or that feeling just might be that fact I may never hold him again.

I shove my hands hard into my coat pocket and trudge up the stairs, dragging my feet like they were a chore, just hoping no one would be out to see me. Even if it was 1:45 in the morning, with my luck, someone will be out to say 'Hi, Sonic! How are ya? What's wrong?' Then, with the way I am feeling now, I'll just give them a sneer and slam my door shut. Then the papers will read 'Hero rude to his fans!'

I really hope no one sees me.

Thankfully, no one did. It was clear all the way to the third floor, and then down the hallway to my apartment, 8C.

It's nothing much here. I may be a hero, but I'm not a big spender. My apartment is a relatively good size with not much furniture. Just a couch, a chair, an end table here and there, and a television sat in my living room, a bed in my bedroom, and then essential kitchen items in the kitchen. I'm not a very complicated individual. The extra things I do have are just crap Amy decided to shove in here to make it look more "homey."

I throw my navy blue coat onto a near by chair and I practically trip on something on the floor that isn't normally there. I look down, just past my shoes, to see a tiny basket with a bright pink bow.

I already know who it is from, the total opposite of who I want it to be from. I sigh and step over it, not really caring about it, knowing it is some fruit basket Amy made for me...again. She's always trying to get me to eat healthier, I swear she is worse then a mother.

I go into the kitchen for two aspirins for this headache that slowly surfaced since he ran away from me, and on my way back out of the kitchen with two Tylenol and a glass of water, I glance at the trash, noticing it is a replica of what my emotions feel like, all torn and discarded.

I take a deep breath, trying to push the thought of him to the back of my mind as I plop on the couch, careful not to spill my water. I lean over and press the 'play' button on my answering machine sitting on an end table, the light blinking beside a number that says '3.'

I hear a beep and then her voice.

"Hey, sweetheart, it's Amy. Just wondering where you are, you never called me tonight."

As if I have to check in with her.

"Well, I left you a present, hope you like it! Give me a call, okay? I love you."

Click.

I hear another beep, as I throw the pills down my throat, and then her voice again. I growl under my breath, and practically lunge for the answering machine, almost spilling my water, and hit the forward button.

Beep.

"Sonic..."

I hear his voice through the speaker and I spit out some water due to complete shock, practically choking on the pills I took. I crawl on to the edge of the couch quickly, pressing my hands on the arm, and kneeling up, as if getting closer to the machine brings me closer to him.

"...you can get over here tomorrow about three and get your shit. It's only a few things, but I don't want them here. I'll leave them by the front door. I'll be out all day so bring your key, and then leave it here."

Click.

His voice sounded so cold, and he didn't even say goodbye.

I stare at the machine for a few moments, waiting for him to say 'Just kidding. I love you and I'll see you tomorrow.'

But it never comes. Instead the number that used to read three, just turns back to zero.

I debate on what reaction to take, what emotion to go with because there are so many flowing through me right now my body can't keep up.

I'll go with anger.

I felt my veins practically pop. I tend to overreact with things. It's a shock that it's taken this long for him leaving me to kick in, and now, I am pretty pissed off.

I jump off the couch, grabbing a vase that was sitting on the coffee table, and fling it directly across me, forcing it to collide with the wall and smash into an innumerable amount of pieces. To top that off, the pictures I had on that wall that Amy had given me, also shattered upon impact.

I kneeled on the floor, gripping my quills tightly, my eyes squeezed shut, and on the back of my eyelids all I can see is him. I growl, trying to hold back from screaming, knowing it could result in waking the neighbors, but I realize I don't care anymore, I don't care about anything.

I feel my voice gurgle from my stomach and I scream so loud from the bottom of my diaphragm I think I could shatter even more glass "FUCK YOU, SHADOW!"

I just sit there for at least a half hour, trying to calm down, crying, shaking...trying to still stay angry at the situation to prolong the depression stage, something I hated being, but it was inevitable to come and I hated that even more.

"You said you could handle this." I mumbled practically incoherently under my tears and breath. I felt like a helpless child, knelt down in the middle of his room, crying weakly.

"I told you on that first morning we spent together that I had a girlfriend, and you said you could handle it. You told me you've never felt this way about anyone and you didn't care how you got to see me again, just as long as you could."

I feel the anger pour through those words and I feel the depression of tears soften them. I'm tired of switching back and forth between the two, and anger is beginning to surface again.

"And then you tell me tonight that you can't take it anymore!" I yell, but not loud enough for anything outside my apartment to hear. "You shouldn't have gotten involved if you couldn't take it! You fucking set me up for heartache, you bastard."

I lean my elbows on my legs and just let my head fall in my vibrating hands. I feel beaten, useless, selfish...

"We both knew this couldn't work, yet we did it anyway."

The whole event from just a few hours is repeating over and over in my mind. The way it started out fine and normal, to where he tells me I have to choose, to where I can't and he knows I can't...to him running away from me.

I sob in my hands, giving into the depression side that was fighting the anger. Depression has won.

"I love you." I say, slowly lifting my head from my palms, my shaking beginning to seize, yet the tears now fell silently down my red cheeks.

Those words hurt worse then any I've heard before because I don't think there is anything mutual about that phrase anymore.

I feel practically exhausted from the time, the tears, the pills, and the situation. I manage to stand to my feet. The room is completely blurry from the tears and my now swollen red eyes.

I just hang my head and walk towards my bedroom where a lonely, restless sleep awaits me.