Poetic
#4 of Be My Bad Boy
Poetic
I awoke suddenly from the depths of the night. Shadow, a change of dog tags apparent, was beside me, watching me sleep. "Good Morning Beautiful." He whispered tenderly in my ear. I tiredly looked at him, smiling to myself, warmth covering me. Wait, morning? My mind flashed the image of my fox, and I realized what he must be feeling.
"Oh my God!" This could not be happening! Tails will wonder where I was, what am I going to do!? Maybe I can sneak in. I looked to my right to thankfully find the night stand had a clock. The digital face read in large red number: 1:22. I jumped from my bed, and Shadow followed. I slipped on my clothes which had oddly fallen to the floor. Dressing slightly slower, Shadow asked me questions, "What's wrong?" He asked, worried.
"Nothing, well, almost nothing . . . " I lied, my eyes tearing. I could feel the drops roll through my furry cheek, creating faint lines in my blue fur. He touched my cheek, caressing it gently. He had slipped on his pants, his shirt in the other hand.
"Tell me, what is wrong." He gave me a comforting smile, and I broke.
"Tails expected me home a while ago, and he might be worried of what happened to me. And, I think he might know, or has known. I don't know, I just . . . " My words were lost, and the room turned upside down. I could not understand what was happening.
"C'mon, we can think of something to tell him." He said optimistically. With that small comfort, I waited as he put on his shirt. He took my hand, and I followed him into the room. He took my coat and put it on me. We left his apartment, and I took a look back and the many writings on the wall, a glimpse at "Coup de grâce."
We took the first turn from the street. I followed him closely, slightly afraid of the dark now. It felt strange to be scared of a world I was apart of, but tonight, everything seemed fearsome and terrifying. We passed an alley and he started to go in, I turned to him and said a very flat, "No."
"Look, I know there is some work being done down this street, and this is a good shortcut anyway."
"Maybe the construction work is done, love. I just can't go through there, I just know something will go wrong tonight." He understood, I could see it in his eyes. He took my shoulders and led me down the street further. Walking at a fast pace, we reached the construction site quickly, and he talked to them. The worker, an elephant, told us that going though the site is too dangerous at night, and they could not accept liability.
I knew the construction would lead us back to the alley. We walked briskly, trying to hurry through this hell. It seemed hysterical of me, I must have felt fear that something was following us. My love frowned upon such a craven opinion. "You are safe with me." He reminded, slowing us down. I smiled, and blushed slightly, even now. "I know." I replied.
We turned into the alley, and I felt my knees become weak, and I trembled with every step. Every time I heard my partner's footstep, I shiver, afraid it might be of someone else. Shadow was calm, looking onward. I looked, with cowardice, through the hall of hell. It seemed the shadows were shifting, becoming ready to attack. I heard a knock, and he did not. I heard murmurs, he heard nothing. I felt a tremor of the Earth, threatening to quake. It was then, I realized, I am surely insane to believe the planet was out to get me.
We neared the end of the torturous nightmare, and I felt a sigh of relief. We turned the corner of the alley, and we found ourselves outside the bar we met. I saw the door open, and a drunkard came out. He was wearing tight leather, and frantically attempting to stand. Shadow told me he would be right back, that he was going to assist the drunk. I allowed him this, and decided to hail a cab for the fur. Hopefully the gentleman could pay his own fare.
As I waved down a cab, I turned back to my love helping the drunk. I then saw the two fighting. The drunk had jumped the ebony hedgehog and pinned him. He held a knife in his hands, threatening to cut Shadow's throat. "Your collar says . . . 'Bad Boy." He paused, "Sonic . . . painted a hedgehog like you . . . with that collar." It was Tails. Wait, my painting? Damn it all to the seven hells! If I had not, then this would not . . .
"So he painted a picture of a hedgehog that looks like me, and happens to have the same name tag, where do you get off jumping me?" My hedgehog tried to signal for me to flee. Despite his act, he knew what was happening. Maybe I should flee, but I needed to help him, being pinned on the floor was no way to leave him. Calmly, I asked the cabby to drive off, and apologized, due to a change of plans. "What the hell ever."He replied. My sentiments exactly.
"No . . . he was being fucked . . . by you . . ., and your coloring isn't exactly common. Ya know . . . you were outside that night . . . getting a little turned on by our sex?" Tails was rabling, his beer twisted mind creating false memories. He turned to me, still lost in his charade, and continued, "Ya hearing this!? He likes watching us fuck . . . must be fun, . . . Sonic, to have a boyfriend and lover. Twice the fun, huh . . . ?" With such accusing words, I doubted my own memory. Did he . . . he watch me, when I went to bed with Tails. Did he lie to me, or is Tails lying? No, I must think . . .
My thoughts were interrupted, the sound, I heard metal against concrete. "Sonic." Tails began, sorrow building in his voice, overtaking wrath, "I know, ya like him best, but I can't live without you. And every time you leave me . . . I become a shell . . . "
"Tails . . . !"
"So, I want you to choose, my life . . . or his." Tails began to lightly dig the knife into Shadow's neck, while the black furred hedgehog bucked wildly, attempting with no avail to get the fox off from straddling him. Shadow cried out in a shrill of pain, and found his arms pinned beneath the fox's shins.
My love, I thought, or my lover?
"TAILS!" I screamed, tears forming in my eyes. "No."
Shadow's neck began bleeding a steady stream, and Tails said in a calm, dark voice, "H-hurry Sonic . . . I can't do it myself, kill me . . . " Was he driving me insane!? Was he trying to push me over. I tried to make myself angry enough so that I might, so I can . . .
I ran, and picked up the gun he had thrown. I pointed to the fox's head, barrel slightly buried in his orange fur. He stopped, and Shadow caught some breath, though he was still impaled enough to keep him bleeding. I shook, nervously, uneasy. Tails continued his farewell, "Sonic . . . I looked it up, I planned this. You won't, under the conditions, go to jail. But I felt, in my planning, it would . . . it would be more poetic this way."
I held it, and Tails looked into the blood colored eyes, as if to say, 'He is yours to protect now.' Tears feel freely, and I finally admitted the truth to myself, "I can't do this . . . " I dropped the gun, and Tails dropped his head, he knew he would be the murderer now.
However, the paw of my Bad Boy grabbed the gun and pointed it at Tail's Muzzle. Tails curtly remarked with a return of wrath, "Thanks for ruining my art." before vanishing from existence . . .
I dabbed the color orange with my brush, and used a few touch up strokes to fix a few errors in my work. I then only had to go back with one color, red. It was a marvelous painting thus far, and it has taken me 37 hours straight to reach this, the apex, the final point. I put down my traditional brush, and picked up one I saved for this occasion.
Before I started on the end, I took one last look around the small house, and checked to see if everything was wrapped, and the furniture covered. I found one of Tail's toys lose, and picked up the bead string. I dropped it in a nearby box. With that, I went back to my work, and looked again. I took a quick note of all the areas the red needed to be so that the work would be finished in time. I had a deadline, and it was coming quickly.
I quickly cut an opening in the red's container. I stroked the brush over the paint and then scraped it across the canvass. The brush proved harder to use then I thought, but I would just have to deal with the permanent stiff bristle. It was made that way, and I could do very little with it. I took it back, and dipped it twice in the growing pool of red paint. I could feel energy flowing from me, and I knew the painting would soon be done and then I could sleep.
Another half done stroke, and I became a little irritated at the slowness. I opened the paint's source a little more, to get more of it, and dipped the metal brush again in the pool of red. The paint seemed more liquid on the canvass than in the pool it came from. I then felt another shock of fatigue, and stopped thinking, concentrating only on finishing my work.
I took a step back and made a final brush in the lower section of the picture. It came out well, even more detailed than that hotel scene. It was perfect, and gave off the emotion I desired. But, as I fell back into the redness of paint that pooled around my feet, I realized I learned one thing that one person can only test once: Love goes great with Suicide.
A/n:I hope you enjoy this story, and please leave feed back and reviews. Honestly, I have not recieved high marks on this story from any site since chapter one, and no one is leaving much feedback. Please tell me what I am doing right, what I am doing wrong, and anything else. I will take flames gladly, just please help me write better. Thank you.