You wonder a lot what would happen if he were more attentive. You think you're really obvious with it all (Except maybe not because no one else notices either) because all the emotions swirling around inside you are always ready to just fall out of you. You would probably feel better if they did. If all those feelings just came pouring out like water. Or more like molasses. That's what they feel like anyway. Sticky, heavy, gross. You should say something.

But you don't.

But you won't.

You wonder if there are others that feel that way. You tell yourself there must be, because that's better than the alternative. People fall for their best friends all the time, right? But those people are blushing girls who end up happy. Who end up with children and families and happy.

You wish you were a girl sometimes now. Which is strange because you still hate it when people point out that you look the part, and even stranger when you think about the time you would never even think about that. But you still wish it. In the back of your mind, when you feel the loneliest. Then you'd have a chance at least. A chance with the savior of the world? Maybe. Sonic likes you as a friend at least. He tells you you aren't as worthless as you think you are sometimes. Which is nice. But you're a guy. Fortunately. Unfortunately. It doesn't matter too much. It is what is and you don't have a chance with your best friend. Even if he thinks you aren't worthless.

Sonic being the savior of the world is the other problem. People know who he is, and while you don't really care what the world thinks, (Or really you do. You care that they don't notice you. You care that you're still invisible.) Sonic does. Sonic really does. And what would the papers say if you too were together? That's why he runs away from Amy. He's afraid of the rumors. No one knows that except you, which you consider to be a loss and a victory at the same time. You know things about him that no one else does, but if he's that uncomfortable with dating a girl, well then dating you would be laughable. (It is. Not 'would be'. Is.)

Sometimes it's nice to pretend though. (You really shouldn't) Until it isn't. Because Sonic will let you lie on his shoulder sometimes when he's in a good mood, and all the sticky grossness becomes light and fluffy, because you can see it. You lying here is nice. How it should be. How it really, really shouldn't. But you can see it. How you could be. Together. Lying here comfortably. Just enjoying the closeness, but truly together in some secret weird way. You want to feel it rather than just see it. But what you want is like a museum piece. Look. Don't touch. You move a little closer, and he doesn't flinch away. Then a little closer. A… little… closer. "You okay buddy? You're being a little clingy tonight."

"Oh… uh. Sorry." You back off, and you feel even more disgusting. You're taking advantage, and you wonder what exactly is wrong with you. Because it really is disgusting, and not just cause you feel it is. That's the third and final nail in the coffin. It's just… wrong. Illegal even. You're seventeen. He's twenty-three. If you pursued him you could get Sonic thrown in jail. (You wonder if they actually could do that. Sonic has saved the world more times than he can even count. They don't even try to pull him over for speeding anymore.) Not to mention the disapproving glares you can imagine in your friends eyes. Furious, disappointed, disgusted. Amy would never talk to you again. Would that really be that bad? You always thought Amy was nice enough, but she was the first person you were jealous of, because she could say anything she wanted and you just couldn't. It was her that made you realize actually. Jealousy was the first thing you felt when you saw that you… that you wanted something more with Sonic, and you've always been a little resentful that she opened your eyes. (You really would be better off ignorant.)

It's sad really, because he still really does care. Like now. He gets up from his comfortable spot on the couch, and tousles the fur on your head when he gets too you. "You sure you're okay, buddy?"

You nod, but don't meet his gaze, so he frowns. "Stop lying." And you feel that heavy weight again, sticking to you like maple syrup. You are lying, so much, and to your best friend, someone who you've literally trusted with your life before. So why not this? He's frowning still, and he looks a little lost. Not really sure how to help. That just makes you feel worse. But you hope pass it off as nothing, or at least distract him enough to escape.

"I'm fine." You don't sound like you're choking but you feel like it. "I'm just going to hang out in my room for a bit. Read a little." You smile. (You hope it isn't as fake as it feels). You're still choking, suffocating on this heavy weight. He looks away, letting you go, mercifully. Books, projects, mechanics make you feel a little better. They put the feelings in the corners of your mind. Where you don't have to pay attention to them. Where you don't have to examine them. It's not as good as when you get close to him. Then the things that weigh you down disappear, because you can pretend. (You really shouldn't) You shouldn't because those come with the side-effects that you have to go up to your room and read to get away from. The choking, the drowning. (If you let it all come pouring out, like water, only not, like molasses, would you feel better? Would you stop drowning?)