#fic posting

Of course, Sonic had immediately admonished him, telling him he sucked all the fun out of the affair by going the easy route. Understanding that he was being challenged, Silver abandoned his psychokinesis to pick each apple by hand. He despised that Sonic was right; it was more sweat than he liked, but it was far more rewarding to find a good apple this way than by picking them all at once.

Silver plucked another apple, pleased to find it without rot or potential worms. That had been a lesson Silver never forgot, eagerly biting into an apple only to spit out a worm that had settled near the core. Sonic had laughed, something hearty and startled, not like his usual mischievous chuckle, and Silver had felt warm at the sound despite the distaste in his mouth.

Silver had traveled to the past once again, unable to resist the allure of an under-industrialized society… and perhaps, because a good friend lived in this time as well. If he happened to cross paths with Sonic, right when autumn has settled across South Island, and the apple trees were ripe with red fruits to be harvested… what a strange coincidence it all was, that there was an orchard advertising for people to come and pick what they could, the scraps left over from the farmer’s initial harvest.

Sonic had been content to sit in the tree while Silver worked, munching on a few apples he could easily reach, or catching the ones Silver would throw at him when he complained about how lazy he was. Silver sat in a tree branch above him, watching the autumn noon light slip through the shade of the trees they had climbed, making Sonic’s fur shimmer as Sonic remained still, eyes closed, hands behind his head, soaking in the sweet sunlight like the plant he was settled across.

It was peace, earnest and true, and Silver couldn’t stop himself from staring, watching Sonic be so still. It was sometimes hard to reconcile that such a daredevil loved to stop and smell the roses (in this case, the scant few apple blossoms left over), who lazily napped during the day when he wasn’t running amok across continents in search of danger. Sonic’s odd, sometimes dissonant nature had annoyed Silver greatly when he first met him, finding him at best an unpleasant juxtaposition of strange traits, and at worst a massive hypocrite.

Now, Silver was content to sit above him and watch a quiet moment he had stolen, selfish as he always was to be present for things he had no right to. It was a conflict Silver always lost, dreaming of pasts that weren’t his, of friends that didn’t belong to him, of wants and desires that couldn’t be. But the future sting, despite being just as sunny and blue skyed as the day he was currently in, filled with orchards just ad sweet and ripe as this one, filled with blissful autumn days, but missing such a key component to Silver’s happiness.

Silver had never thought of himself as selfish before, until he met him.

“Don’t you ever wonder what the future is like?” Silver asked, breaking the serene silence. Just like Silver always does, disrupting a past he didn’t belong to, a moment that wasn’t his.

Sonic never seemed to mind. “Not at all.”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little. I really hate spoilers!”

“You never really ask about it.” Silver closes his eyes. “Tails obviously does. Even Knuckles wonders about the state of Angel Island. But it’s not just that- everyone always eventually asks what happens to them. Does any of Tails’s theories come true? Does Knuckles revitalize the Echidna culture? Does Rouge become a world famous thief?”

A sweet autumn breeze ruffles the leaves. Out past the horizon, where the apple trees fade into birches, a forest is filled with gold. The leaves have already changed, and soon will turn brown, brittle, and fall.

“You never ask,” Silver notes. “Don’t you wonder?”

“Nope.” Sonic’s eyes are still closed. “I don’t really care. I like the present quite a lot. And I know that whatever happens, I chose it to happen. I don’t live a life of regrets, so I don’t mind not knowing what happens. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Silver watches the ants climbing the bark of the tree. Despite himself and the sudden melancholy he’s feeling, he can’t help the half snort, half scoffing sound he makes in the face of Sonic’s blasé opinion. “That sounds like something you’d say.”

“What can I say? I like a good surprise.”

Silver glances back down at Sonic, studying him. He tells himself this is the last time he’ll travel to the past, the last time he’ll abuse the power of the time stones to watch sand slip from his fingers. Silver’s future is saved, a brilliant world full of beautiful people and places that belong to Silver now. Yet still he’s here, in the past, chasing something he knows he can’t have. This world, centuries ago, long before he’s even a concept, isn’t his. And his fate, however it intertwined with his, is meant to eventually part.

Still, Silver grasps it with both hands.

“You never ask what I’m doing in the past, either,” Silver adds.

“I figure you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t you wonder?”

“Not at all.” Sonic’s voice is blithe. “Sure, I don’t really think picking apples is gonna save the future, but I don’t really care either way.”

“What if I’m just abusing this power that was given to me? What if I’m just here for fun? What if the future is already saved?” Because if the future isn’t saved, why else would Silver be in the past? Why else wouldn’t he be in the world he belongs to? He doesn’t know why he’s asking these things. Sonic isn’t the arbiter of his absolution.

Maybe, though, he is.

Sonic snorts. “Don’t you know? I do the same with the Chaos emeralds.”

Silvers eyes are wide. “Really?”

“I used to transform with them all the time. Flying around, chasing after the Tornado… There’s no shame in making the most out of what you’re given.” Sonic tilts his head. “But I’m guessing, you want me to ask you why you are in the past? So tell me, what are you doing here? Right here, right now?”

Blue as the sky Silver had fought so long to see. Green as the grass Silver fought so hard to keep.

“I live two hundred years in the future,” Silver says. “But there’s someone here that I… miss. Someone who can’t see the future I dream of.”

(Someone who will never live to see it.)

“They don’t live a very long life,” Silver confesses. “There isn’t much time.”

“There’s always time.”

“Not for him.”

Silver’s voice is sharp. Crisp, like the first bite into an apple. This fruit is rotten, however. Down to its core.

“Even if I stayed in the past forever,” Silver continued. “Even if I gave up the future I’m fighting for, he won’t be around for much longer.”

“And you won’t change his fate?”

“I can’t.”

“Hm.” Sonic scratches his chin. “I guess you’re lucky, then, that fate doesn’t exist.”

Silver closes his eyes. Doesn’t it? Then again, the future’s fate is changed because of him.

“You don’t have much time with him,” Sonic continues. “Even if you could give up everything, it wouldn’t matter. Sounds like you’ve already given up. How tragic.” Sonic snorts. “How stupid.”

Silver bristles, standing on the branch he was resting on. “What?!”

“You’re giving up before you’ve even started,” Sonic mildly says. “And I thought you were supposed to be tenacious. What happened to the Silver I know, who saw the fate of his world and spat in its face? You don’t believe in fate- you can’t, if you’re trying to fix your future. Why give up when you don’t know for certain it’s all doomed?”

“I do know it’s doomed,” Silver insisted. “It would be worthless to do anything, because if I change his fate, it ruined everything he sacrifices himself for.”

Sonic frowns. His eyes are open and their gazes meet. Sonic’s full attention, when he isn’t smiling, when he isn’t joking around, when he isn’t rushing head first into danger, but instead fully aware of his surroundings, the risks, the people he’s near, the daunting task he’s been given… The wind feels strangely cold, as Sonic stares up at him.

“So pessimistic,” Sonic complained. “Fate isn’t real-“ Silver opens his mouth to object, but Sonic doesn’t bat an eye as he talks over him- “But even if it was, who cares?”

Silver frowns. “Who cares?”

“Who cares if it’s doomed?” Sonic raises a hand. “Toss me an apple.”

Silver sends him a side eye that is promptly ignored. Rolling his eyes, Silver uses his psychokinesis to toss him a good apple from his basket, Sonic catching it without even looking. Lazily, Sonic reaches towards an apple near his branch, one where rot has already settled in. He holds up the good apple, making sure Silver can see it.

“Apples,” Sonic begins, “are ripe only for a few weeks. If you miss that window, you miss out on a really good treat.” He takes a loud bite of the apple. Silver wonders if he’s being intentionally obnoxious as he chews long and thoughtfully. “You can eat them, and they last only a few minutes. I bet I could eat this in two seconds, if I down the whole core. But the idea is that apples already arent fit to last beyond their time of harvest. And if you do eat one, they still don’t last. But at least you tasted the sweetness of its flavor, the crispness of its skin, the juice of its fruit.”

Sonic holds up the rotten apple. “If you don’t eat it, the apple still decomposes, rotting away, having never been touched. You won’t have a nice memory to accompany the loss. You’ll just have a rotten apple.”

Sonic tosses the apple onto the ground. He bites into the ripe apple again, munching thoughtfully. “So maybe it’s doomed. An apple will die, no matter if you pick it or not, no matter if you eat it or not. But it’s a terrible waste to let it rot without knowing what it tastes like.”

Silver watches as Sonic continues to eat the apple. It was a perfect apple, a divine shade of red skin, crispy and plump with juice, no doubt a wonderful combination of sweetness and a hint of tart. Sonic finishes, spinning the core on his finger before tossing it away, Silver watching it fall to the ground, settling amongst the mud and grass.

“Do you get it?”

Silver watches Sonic peer up at him. His eyes are vibrant, reflecting the warmth and glimmer of the autumn sun, turned ever summer in his eyes. There’s a drop of juice askance of his mouth, sticky and sweet. His body is relaxed, back to laying against the branch, hands behind his head, legs crossed, but eyes wide open, watching Silver watch him.

“Yeah,” Silver says. “I think I do.”

Sonic smiles. “I figured you weren’t as stupid as your hair.”

Silver squawks. “It’s a common look in the future!”

Sonic shudders. “And you wonder why I never ask about the future. Who wants to know about such a nightmare?”

Silver uses his psychokinesis to pelt Sonic with the remaining apples in the tree. Sonic laughs, even as he falls off the branch, catching himself on the next one, kicking a few apples right back at him. They’re rotten, expired and no longer ripe, failed and forgotten. But there are other apples in other trees that Silver hasn’t climbed yet, waiting for him, willing to be picked.

Sonic jumps from one tree to the next, settling himself on another branch. “Wake me up when you’re willing to hit up the pumpkin patch.”

Nestled in the tree, Sonic closes his eyes, serene as he soaks up the golden light. In the distance, the birch leaves are still glimmering, and in the here and now, there are apples, ripe and crisp and juicy, patiently anticipating his arrival.