Hey all, this one shot has parts taken from a few different people. I've had people asking me to write about the metal virus from the comics as well as ones with Sonic dealing with PTSD. This is kinda a mix of the two. Its actually really refreshing and comforting writing a one shot where Sonic is dealing with something such as mental health. I myself deal with sever anxiety so it helps in a way writing out how that impacts my life into these little stories, showing how it feels to deal with anxiety through a character I love.

We all suffer from demons from time to time. Just remember that you don't have to fight them alone. It is always easier with people who love and support you, is always easier with help. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.

They've won, it's over. The virus has been exterminated, the infected cured and returned to normal. People celebrate in the streets, raise their glasses to a new day filled with happiness and joy. They all slowly start to move on, leaving the shadows of those dark hopeless days behind them, looking towards a better future. They are free….

He is trapped behind glitter and honey, sugar and spice, smiles and lies. His friends laugh and joke, reaching out with gentle hands to pat him on the back or offer warm hugs. He smiles back, crooked and stilted, hands shaking as his heart and lungs stutter and jerk with terror. They move fluidly through crowds, graceful and confident. He slinks low to the ground, skirting around the edges of society as his skin crawls and insides twist. They dream of fluffy clouds and warm sunbeams. He drowns in nightmares of cold steel and empty streets.

For Sonic, the war is not over, the panic and fear doesn't fade. He stands, a ghost of the past unable to move on into the light. He longs to be like his friends, to enjoy the peace and sink into their welcoming arms, but a heavyweight sits over his shoulders while a dark fear whispers in his ear. They reach out, willing and expectant but all he can hear is a voice screaming inside his head. Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch.

He's spent so long avoid contact in fear of infecting others that now, the concept of physical contact sends uncontrollable anxiety racing through his body. The sunlight that dances off the metal that used to be so normal has his breath catching in his throat. Crowds that used to be safe and exciting fill him with dread and terror. His friends will organise a gathering, will invite him along and he will feel the desire to go, to be comforted and included fill his being but he always refuses, always hears that voice.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch.

Most of the time, he can hide his fear. A winning smile, a wink here, thumbs up there and suddenly all anyone sees is their happy-go-lucky hero. But when he can't hide it, when that feeling of dread won't let go of his heart, he locks himself away in his home. He will pace back and forth, wringing his hands together, biting his lip, rock frantically on the couch, gasp for breath as overwhelming panic claws his mind to shreds.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch.

Vector slams an enthusiastic palm on his back, laughing at a joke he said while Sonic fights down the urge to scream and claw at his own skin.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch.

Cream giggles softly as she places the flower crown on his head, fingers grazing against his temple and Sonic fights back the flinch his body instinctively wants to do.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, Don't Touch!

Knuckles and Tails are smirking, reminiscing of the good old days, nudging their shoulders against his own and Sonic shudders where he sits between them, forcing himself not to run.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, don't touch, Don't Touch, Don't Touch, DON'T TOUCH, DON'T TOUCH!

Sonic screams, hands pressing against the sides of his head while the world around him shudders and cracks. He sits crouched by his bed, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face while his chest constricts and aches from terror. He screams, and screams, and screams because its all he can do. He feels how his skin feels too tight over his bones, feels how its crawls and pinches, muscles jumping and bunching as the need for contact eats him alive while the fear of contact steals his breath. He's falling, breaking, atoms splitting and essence fading. This feeling, this crushing weight is destroying him and he can't stop it. The glitter is filling up his lungs, drowning him and he can't call for help. It's terrifying…..its a feeling of ebbing and flowing like the tides.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch….

Shadow is ever-changing, he is the phases of the moon, waxing and waning through his emotions and mental stability. Rouge understands, gives him space when he needs it, offers an ear when he needs to talk, will hold him steady when he needs a solid presence to keep him grounded. The trauma of his past, of his creation and missing memories have left scars and weeping wounds. It has taken years to reach the point he's at now where he can freely say he isn't doing okay, where he can accept help from others. For the most part, he's okay now but on occasion, he still has bad days. Days where the thought of being around others leaves him shaking where he stands, mind swarming with worries, fears and limbs twitching in agitation and rage.

Shadow understands how tramatic events can leave their marks, can dig into one's mind so deeply that its almost like they never ended, never left. Loud, unexpected noises sometimes leave him fifty years in the past, watching as the life bleeds out of his dear friend. He knows of PTSD, of anxiety and depression, paranoia and panic attacks. He knows, he understands, he sees how the demons chip, crack and pull away at the faker's mental health. At first, he does nothing, believing the other will eventually pull himself free or reach out for help from his friends. But times goes on and the smiles grow faker, brittle and stale, those once bright green eyes lose their shine, faded and dark.

It's disconcerting how much the young hero has changed, how far he's fallen yet no one else seems to notice. Only Shadow seems to notice how his hands shake when grasped by others, how thin shoulders hunch and twist away from gentle touches, how those dull green eyes echo with past terrors. He sees this and feels pity for the other, feels sympathy for he understands the terror that refuses to leave his rival alone. When he sees Sonic starting to grow thinner, sees the bags under his eyes grow darker he makes a decision.

The ebony creation walks to the faker's house, wrapped parcel held tightly in his hands and face set in a determined frown. If no one else is going to throw the blue pest a lifeline then Shadow will. He doesn't bother knocking, walks straight into the house and up the stairs to the youngers bedroom where his sensitive ears pick up the sounds of distressed laboured breathing. Walking into the room, Shadow is greeted to the sight of Sonic in the grips of an attack, hyperventilating and shaking hard enough to rattle the wooden floorboards. Ebony stares for a moment, silent and still before moving to sit in front of the other, not reaching out to touch but making sure he's in the others line of sight.

"Faker," His voice is strong and firm, grounding, real. "It's three in the afternoon, Friday. You are in your bedroom. Focus on the sound of my voice, on the feeling on the wooden floorboards underneath you, the soft bed sheets pressed against your back. Focus your attention on your chest, how it expands with each breath, on how your gloves feel around your hands, on your heart beating."

It's slow, like falling through water that drags and pulls at his body and mind, but eventually, Sonic comes back to himself and the crushing fear ebbs away into the background. He's aware of Shadow sitting before him, watching his every move and it sends a thrill of fear that isn't crushing and suffocating through his chest. He blinks at his rival, head tilted to the side, defensive.

"What are you doing here?" Sonic whispers, throat raw from his earlier screaming fit.

"To help." Is the response he gets, ruby eyes cutting right into his soul.

"What?"

Shadow grunts, eyes narrowing as he leans forward, observing how Sonic jerks back. "Your not okay, you are still suffering from the metal virus."

The words are like ice, sliding down his back and cutting into his bones. Sonic can feel how his heart rate spikes, how his breathing stutters and body tenses. Don't touch hisses in his mind while his legs burn with the need to run, to stop the spread.

"The virus is gone…cured." He says instead of running, instead of acknowledging the creeping feeling of ugly fear seeping through his blood.

"It is." Shadow concedes which helps ease some of the anxiety, but only some. "However, your mind and body are still fighting it, still fighting the scars and wounds its left."

Sonic glares at that, angry and defensive, hating how the words make him sound weak, like he's failed at something, failed those around him. "I'm fine."

"Your not."

"Like you would know!" He snaps, biting and hot like spitting embers on a dying fire. He is fine, he doesn't need help, no matter how much his mind and body crave comfort and safety.

"You've lost weight." Shadow points out. "You're not sleeping enough, have been avoiding your friends and jump at the slightest contact like you've been burned. You were also in the middle of a panic attack just minutes ago."

"That means nothing! It is nothing!"

"Your breaking Sonic." The use of his real name snuffs out the flames of his anger, causes his eyes to sting and throat to close as his body cries out for affection and warmth while his mind screams in terror and fright.

Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch!

Shadow moves, leaning closer again and Sonic can't stop the full body flinch that consumes his body, eyes wild and scared as he presses himself as far into the bed as he can to get away from the other. "Don't touch me!"

Ebony freezes and Blue trembles, both as silent as death. Shadow reaches behind him, pulling out the wrapped parcel he brought with him and moving it towards Sonic who jerks back, only to watch as Shadow pushes across the small space between them, not touching him. Sonic stares in bewilderment, trying to understand just what is happening and what he's supposed to do while Shadow rolls his eyes. "Normally you open a gift when it's given to you."

"Why?" He means to say more, to ask why he's been given a gift at all, why the other is being so gentle and kind to him. But words are hard, his mind is a mess and his chest aches with lingering anxiety that just won't leave.

"To help." Is all Shadow says, face softening ever so slightly. Sonic moves slowly, lifting the slightly heavy package onto his lap. He runs his hands over the paper, feeling how whatever sits inside moves and shifts under his hand, a soft material. With shaking hands he pulls the paper apart, eyes wide and confused as he gazes down at the large grey blanket now sitting on his lap. He doesn't understand, turns questioning eyes on his rival in hopes of an answer only to widen in alarm when Shadow moves closer, hands reaching out towards him.

"Don't – "

"I'm not going to touch you." Shadow soothes before Sonic can even finish his sentence. And true to his word he doesn't touch the other. Instead, he grabs the blanket and moves it so it now sits over the youngers shoulders and back and suddenly Sonic feels his body relaxing. The blanket is heavy, more so than a normal one would be and it settles across his body in such a way that produces a calming pressure reminiscent of a hug. His mind calms and body eases, the desire for comfort and contact settling as the pressure seeps into his body.

"It's a weighted blanket," Shadow mutters causing green eyes to open, blinking in surprises as they hadn't even realized they had closed to begin with. "They help with anxiety, help one to feel as if they are being given a hug when they want one but don't want to be touched."

Sonic stares huddled inside the blanket, shocked and warmed by his rival's words and actions. He's been struggling for so long, wishing for a hug, for comfort but too scared to seek it out. He's been silently battling with himself, suffering behind the glitter and sunshine yet Shadow had seen, had seen his struggle and came to help.

"How did you know?"

The other is silent for a while, gaze turned to the side. For once, Sonic doesn't push or tease, he waits and allows Shadow to collect himself. "I've seen and been through some horrible things, have had to battle my own demons. I know what it feels like to be drowning inside your own mind."

Shudder and relax. Sonic feels his body grow tense and cold, feels the blanket shift around him offering pressure, comfort and warmth and relaxes once more. He clutches the fabric between his fingers, pulling it close and tight around himself and hums. He's calmer than he's been for weeks, feels lighter and softer. The whispering fear is still there, background noise inside his head, but its sedated, nothing more than a distant thought for now. It'll come back, he knows this, but now he feels like he can fight it.

"Thank you."

Shadow huffs, leaning back on his hands while arching his eyebrows. "This is only temporary, you know that right? A blanket isn't going to fix everything. You need to talk to something, need to stop running from physical contact."

He does know that. Knows he can't rely on a blanket forever. But the thought of reach out, of grabbing Shadow's hand or hugging Tails, high-fiving knuckles or placing a flower crown on Cream's head leaves him feeling sick and jittery.

"I'll talk. I'll get help. But right now…can I just stay like this? I can't…I don't…"

"That's fine," Shadow says softly, watching as blue sighs in relief, snuggling deeper into the blanket. "Take a few days, rest up and sort yourself out. When your ready, come find myself or Rouge. She helped me a lot back when I needed it. I also know some good Phycologists, but they can be a later thing."

Sonic nods, uneasy about having to see a shrink but knowing, in the end, its for the best. Shadow grunts in satisfaction before leaving, stating that if Sonic hasn't come to find him or Rouge by the end of the week he'll come to find the blue pest. Sonic watches him go with a smile, heart and mind still and quiet, a peaceful garden in a summers breeze. He's still crooked, still cracked and fragile, but he's healing and no longer hiding from his problems. He longer feels like he's drowning…he's fighting like he always does and he knows he'll come out on top eventually.

I actually use a weighted blanket to help with my own anxiety and autism. It helps me to relax and feel like I'm being hugged by someone which is great because sometimes I do want comfort and to be hugged but at the same time I don't want to be touched. I highly recommend a weighted blanket to anyone who suffers from anxiety or even just has trouble sleeping