Snapped

Sometimes Sonic just can't control himself.

Most of the time, Sonic could control the mood swings.

Sure, he'd still go through phases where his emotions were completely out of control, but he could at the very least act like they weren't. He could, through what he assumed was nothing more than persistence, pretend to be alright. His cocky smirk and go-get-em attitude were easy to replicate, after all. It wasn't even a task, most of the time, to pretend he wasn't inexplicably sad or angry.

And, sure, sometimes he let slip that he wasn't exactly in the greatest mood, but usually he could just explain it away. "I'm tired," or "I just haven't been feelin' so hot today," could get him everywhere.

He guessed it was probably starting to become a real problem when he stopped feeling bad about lying to his friends about his emotions, but he didn't say anything anyway. He just kept his mouth shut about it. Who would believe him, anyway? Who would look at him and decide, "Oh, yeah, he looks like he has emotional problems,"?

No one, that was who.

Everyone would just tell him to stop making things up. Tell him that he was already popular enough and he shouldn't lie to get attention.

Well, Tails probably wouldn't tell him that. Tails was the only one who would believe him, but Tails had his own problems, whether he realized Sonic knew about them or not. There was no need to burden the young fox with the knowledge that his 'big bro' wasn't as okay as he pretended to be. With the ensuing thought of, "I have to find a way to help,".

He didn't need help. He was dealing - most of the time, at least. He just really wished he could tell somebody and that he could get back on whatever medication he'd been on as a child. Some kind of mood stabilizer, but he couldn't remember what it was called or what the pills had looked like… Maybe if he did he could steal some from one of Robotnik's medicine shops the next time they went to raid Robotropolis.

Meds or no meds, Sonic really could control the mood swings most of the time, or at least cover them up.

But sometimes he just couldn't control himself. Sometimes his irritability got entirely out of hand and he lashed out - verbally, of course. Sometimes he became so incredibly morose that he had trouble convincing himself to get out of bed for weeks at a time but ended up doing it anyway through some twisted sense of duty. And it wasn't always negative, because sometimes he felt like he was on Cloud 9 for no discernible reason whatsoever. Those were his favorites, if he was to be honest, because there was no reason for him to cover up that kind of mood. If anything, that was a mood he should flaunt.

He just wanted to shout from the rooftops that he felt great.

Right then, unfortunately, was not one of those times. He was not in one of those moods.

Right then, irritability ran high. He wasn't sure how bad it was, yet, but he'd heard somewhere that cigarettes reduced stress and irritability and about a week before he'd been more than willing to try it while in a mood very similar to the one that he was in right then. Turned out, it only helped if he wasn't provoked in any way.

But it helped.

Tucked away behind a building, leaned against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips while he tried to remember where he'd put his lighter, he hoped against hope that no one came looking for him. He didn't have the patience for one of Sally's lectures on nicotine addiction and he didn't have the sensitivity for talking to Tails just yet.

When he finally retrieved his lighter and managed to light the cancer stick between his lips, he felt himself relax a bit. He took a drag off it, sighing the smoke out in a thick cloud. The tension began to leave his muscles, nerves ceasing to buzz quite so intensely. Oh, he was still buzzing, though. He could still feel that urge below the skin, that tingling that told him without a doubt that the first person to set him off today would be walking away with an injury of some sort.

This was his least favorite mood.

He could handle knowing he was going to curse someone until his throat was sore, insult and belittle them until they were bawling their eyes out, because everyone knew he didn't really mean any of it. They knew that if he raised his voice, if he cursed, he was just having a bad day and even if he did mean it he'd apologize for being so blunt later. He'd feel guilty, at some point, and tell them he was sorry, even if it wasn't immediate.

Even he was allowed to be angry, sometimes, and for extended periods of time at that. He was only Mobian, after all. Even he couldn't constantly keep up that go-get-em attitude that everyone knew him for.

He took another drag.

"Sonic," Sally's disapproving voice floated over to him, accompanied closely by the sounds of her approach.

"Not right now, Sally." He groaned. "Just leave me alone."

He was fully prepared to walk away without another word. And he probably would have done so if she hadn't grabbed his shoulder and launched into a rant about how bad a nicotine addiction was and how worried she was getting about him lately.

It really wasn't her fault when his irritation bubbled up into something more - it wasn't her fault she was worried. But he really didn't care. He just wanted her to shut up… He couldn't stop himself when he lifted the cigarette and jammed the cherry into her cheek. She yelped and jumped away and all he did was raise the cigarette back to his lips and take another drag as he walked away.

He knew something was wrong, then. He knew, deep down, that he seriously had a problem. He'd just burned someone with a cigarette and he felt no remorse whatsoever. He needed help…

But no one would believe him.

No, they'd all just tell him to stop making things up and to apologize to Sally for burning her. They'd tell him he was acting like Scourge, and if that wouldn't trigger another brief episode of violence he wasn't sure what would. He didn't want to be like Scourge - he wanted to be himself. And he didn't want to acknowledge that Scourge had been right in saying that "one bad day" could lead to them being much more alike, even though he knew it was truer than most things that came out of the green hedgehog's mouth.

It was pure happenstance that he ran into Shadow while he was taking a run to try and calm down, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was a good coincidence or not. Part of him screamed for him to tell Shadow about his problem. To tell him that he had an issue and needed help finding the right medication to handle it.

He couldn't - even Shadow wouldn't believe him.

But maybe he would.

Only one way to find out.

He started up a rather one-sided conversation, of course. He talked, Shadow listened and occasionally interjected to insult him or to agree with a point he'd brought up. Finally, he worked up the courage. "Shadow, we're uh… We're allies, right?"

"I suppose." Shadow narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I need to tell someone about this… Problem I have." He shrugged. "Figure you're my best bet."

"... Very well. Tell me."

"I'm bipolar."

Shadow blinked, partially from the admission but mostly from how blatant it was. No preamble, no, "Well, you see, the thing is…" as he'd have expected. Simply, "I'm bipolar." Didn't most people try to segue into something like that? And wouldn't most people try talking to a close friend first? But then, he supposed, the Faker wasn't most people. He was a famous hero who everyone looked up to - the guy that every villain in their right mind wanted to curb stomp.

And he was an attention whore, for lack of a better word. Everyone knew that - everyone knew Sonic liked to be in the spotlight, and that was more than enough reason for Sonic to have told him, of all people. The princess, the Freedom Fighters, even Knuckles would have probably shrugged off such an admission. But he was the Ultimate Lifeform. He was created to help people. Cure people. Maybe Sonic had decided to take a leap of faith and hope that Shadow's compassion for the ill extended to the mentally ill.

Or maybe he just told you to get it off his chest.

"I see." He replied, instead of voicing any of his thoughts.

"And… I think I need some serious help." Sonic muttered. "Sorry to dump that on you, I just… Needed to let someone know."

"How long have you known about this?" Shadow asked instead of ignoring the issue.

Sonic's eyes flicked to his face for a moment before dropping back to the ground. He shrugged. "Since I was little. I was on medication before Robotnik took over, but…"

"You haven't taken any since then?" Shadow guessed.

"Nope. I can't remember what I was on, either, before you ask."

Shadow merely nodded. "What kind of help did you think you needed?"

"Just…" Sonic made a vague hand gesture between them. "Talking, I guess. I really wasn't expecting you to believe me."

"I can certainly understand why you would think that way." Shadow's heart stuttered painfully. He'd been wondering when his sense of duty would kick in. "Do you want to vent to me or something?"

"Why would you want to help?" Sonic furrowed his eye ridges.

"Mental illness is just as serious as physical illness." Shadow rubbed his chest and averted his eyes. "My primary function was supposed to be to cure illness, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Sonic struggled to find words, noting in between doing so that his mood had already improved somewhat. That was so weird. "Most people don't seem to acknowledge the whole… Mental illnesses are real illnesses thing."

"It was drilled into my head when I was still young that they are. Maria was quite adamant that I help the mentally ill as well." Another pang in his chest at the thought of her.

Sonic studied him for a moment. "... Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to vent a little."

"I'm all ears, Faker."

There was a hint of a smile when Sonic sat down a nearby rock. "Take a seat. This might take a while."

Shadow obeyed.

When Sonic finally finished talking, the sun was hanging considerably lower in the sky and his mood was considerably lighter. Sure, he was still in a pretty dark place, but he no longer felt like he'd snap again. He didn't really think he'd manage to burn Shadow with a cigarette even if he tried, but he thought it was nice that he didn't want to.

"You know what, Sonic?" Shadow said after a moment of silence between them.

Sonic hummed to show he was listening and interested.

"I'm going to help you get back on your medication."

Before Sonic could argue, Shadow was gone.