Knuckles opened his jaw, but the words he usually used—gruff refusals, tests of strength—didn’t come. He had lived by proving himself; accepting help felt like weakness. Yet Sonic’s blue eyes were steady, not pleading. He made it sound like a small thing: a walk, a conversation, a race down the cliffs. Things Sonic did best.
They laughed. It dissolved the last of the stiffness between them, and the laughter became conversation until the moon rose high and the wind sang in the palms. Sonic told a ridiculous story about a chili dog contest gone wrong. Knuckles listened, then revealed, with surprising candor, a memory of a time he’d nearly lost everything and how he’d learned to trust his instincts more than anyone else’s plans.
Sonic sat down on a fractured stone and kicked his legs out. “I’m saying you don’t have to carry everything alone. Even guardians need a break.” sonicknuckleswsonic3bin file work
Sonic touched the palm first and threw himself down, chest heaving. Knuckles arrived seconds later, planting his fist on the trunk and grinning widely. “Hmph. You got lucky.”
“Race?” Knuckles repeated, a corner of his mouth twitching. Knuckles opened his jaw, but the words he
Sonic pushed himself up and jogged down the slope because he couldn’t help it. “Hey,” he called, grinning before he reached him. Not a joke this time. Just a simple, honest word.
That got Knuckles to look up properly. For a heartbeat, the island’s guardian seemed to measure whether to close off his face. Then he shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m always okay. This place is my duty.” He made it sound like a small thing:
Sonic shrugged. “Why would I? You’re epic as you are.”
Knuckles snorted, but it was almost a laugh. “View’s been the same for centuries.”