hey besties im not okay

“Oh.” Tails could hear Sonic’s awkward shuffling as he settled into a more attentive position on what was probably the couch. He could imagine what he wanted to say. It's the first time you've called me since you left, of course I'd pick up! Nothing on Mobius would stop me! But somehow his impulsive brother managed to think better of that. “Want me to hang up then?”

Yes, because this had been a mistake. No, because going this long without talking to him had been an even bigger mistake. Yes, because even after more than half a year Tails still didn’t feel any different. No, because he was afraid that things were already too different and there was no going back.

Only forward.

Always forward.

“Tails?”

“It’s late,” Tails answered, voice as hollow as the sky appeared. “I don’t want to keep you.”

He knew Sonic was shaking his head before he even spoke, “You’re not. I was awake anyway,” he lied. Or maybe he wasn’t. Tails couldn’t tell.

He used to be able to tell.

“Why?” Tails asked.

“Just… couldn’t sleep.” The resignation in his sigh ran deep, as though insomnia was an all-too familiar companion for him these days.

Tails supposed something had been bound to replace him. “Me either.”

“Yeah? What time is it where you’re at?”

The question came easily, said without thinking, so Tails knew he wasn’t trying to probe him for intel on his whereabouts. “Mm-mm-mm,” he hummed, throwing Sonic the smallest bone to chew on if he felt like it. “Late.”

“Ah.”

A distant train whistle called out over the treetops, its haunting song fading just like the stars in Tails’s sky. It would pass by soon. Tails’s heels rested on the steel rail while the rest of him lay prone and alone. The wind picked up, rustling through the dead, dry leaves littering the ground. The dark shapes of the trees overhead trembled while their branches bowed and bent with the autumn breeze, blotting out more of the sky. More of the stars.

“Did you know there’ll be a finite number of stars?” Tails murmured, waiting for Sonic’s curious hum before continuing, “A star dies when its hydrogen reserves run out. New stars are born from the remains of the dead ones, but with each new star there’s less and less hydrogen to sustain it. Eventually all the hydrogen atoms will be converted, and the universe will go dark.” He paused for a moment, listening to the silence of Sonic processing what he had to say. “It won’t happen in our lifetime. It’s very likely we have another thirty billion years at the very least, but we still have to live each day knowing that no matter what we do, we can’t change the inevitable. One day the universe will be empty. No more stars.”

“Well… guess that makes it all the more important to treasure them now while we still can, huh?” Sonic’s voice cracked a bit as he muffled a cough into his fist, maybe, to clear his throat. “Tails, are you…?”

His question hung unfinished and unanswered in the air, eventually dying along with the autumn leaves floating to the ground. “Are you okay?” was the likely culprit, even if he was far from it, since “are you coming home?” was something Sonic could never bring himself to ask.

Maybe he did still know his big brother after all.  

Another whistle pierced the air, the sound of the train’s horn sharp and pointed; one last warning. He could feel its vibration through his shoes and along his spine, rumbling through the tracks and the dirt they were built upon. Slowly, he slipped one sneaker off the rail, then the other.

With a whoosh, the train went careening past—the clacking of the cars deafening as the wind ruffled his fur. He watched the speeding cars, catching glimpses of graffiti that marked the meager existence of someone at some point in time. A sign that they had been there once, even if they weren’t anymore. A signal to a like-minded soul, maybe. Like a dead star’s hydrogen molecules, reaching out to fuel another life cycle. People’s imprints were no different. A single, simple act of a stranger could shape a person’s entire existence out of the dust they left behind. 

The train’s horn blared again, chug-a-chugging, chug-a-chugging, until eventually the last car was dragged along in front of him, then vanished into the woods. His ears were still ringing as the clatter was carried away with the cargo, so it took a minute for him to register the tinny sound from the speaker attached to his wrist.

“—still with me? Tails?”

“I’m here,” he answered, even though his voice sounded about as far away as the train was now.

Sonic’s breath rattled on another heavy exhale. “Sounded awful close to that train there, pal.”

“Yeah.” Tails didn’t deny it. “I like being near the trains. Reminds me of when they used to pass through the Mystic Ruins.”

“Yeah.”

“I miss them sometimes.”

Sonic didn’t miss a beat. “Me too.”

Tails blinked, the darkness steadily creeping in from the corners of his eyes dissipating a little. “You do?”

“Yeah,” an airy chuckle escaped him, just as much at risk of blowing away like the leaves on the wind. “Y’know, think that might be why I’m having trouble sleeping. Used to hearing the trains pass through whenever I’d leave my window open. It’s too quiet now.”

“You could go somewhere else,” Tails suggested.

“I could,” Sonic agreed, but they both knew he wouldn’t.

Tails blinked again. “I won’t be back for a while still. There’s no point in waiting.”

Sonic paused. The hum of the comm link replaced the white noise ringing in Tails’s ears as the woods settled around him. The sky was starting to clear, even though there hadn’t been a single cloud all night.

“Agree to disagree,” Sonic finally spoke up.

“But Sonic—”

“Hey, I don’t tell you how to live your life, you don’t tell me how to live mine,” he scoffed. “You can give me that much.”

“You’re right.” Tails’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I’ll let it slide.” And he could picture Sonic waving it off carelessly. “But just this once.”

Just this once… It was never “just this once” though, was it? Sonic would always compromise on everything he stood for, just for him. While Tails wasn’t strong enough to stick to his own convictions, and have “just this once” actually be that, instead of crumbling under the weight of his own childish whims.

This call was proof enough of that.

“I’ve gotta go,” Tails said.

“Wait—you sure?” Sonic’s response came a little too quickly. “I was just playing around, partner. It didn't actually bother me or anything—”

“I know. It’s not that. I just… even this much was a mistake. I can’t make this a habit.” Tails dug his fingers deeper into the dirt, like he could physically anchor himself in place, stay grounded even when he wanted to give in. “Don’t expect another call.”

Sonic sucked in a sharp breath, maybe to stop himself from saying something else before he settled on a soft, “Okay.”

No fuss. No wheedling or nudging or goading him into giving in. Sonic had stepped back, had given Tails whatever pieces of him he could, and was leaving him to find his place in a sky that would one day be devoid of even a pinprick of starlight, but for now was still shining. Would shine for as long as it could. 

With no expectations. No strings. No conditions.

His love was unconditional.

He didn’t deserve all that Tails had done to him.

“It was me,” he blurted out before his brain could think better of it.

“Huh?”

“‘Any of this,’” Tails repeated, and he was rather proud of the way his voice didn’t waver. “You didn’t deserve any of this. You deserve… so much better.”

“Tails—”

“But I have to see this through so I can be that for you. And I will. I promise,” Tails assured him. “Bye, Sonic.”

He ended the call and turned off his comm completely before his brother could get in another word. The brother who spent the better part of his own childhood giving everything to a little kid he didn’t owe the time of day. Who went ahead and gave him a future. 

He couldn’t waste that.