Work Text:
The sketchbook hit the coffee table harder than Honey meant it too. The sound of plastic on glass made her flinch, and as she sprung up to make sure nothing had broken—to her relief, nothing had—before slumping back into the couch, heaving out a frustrated sigh through her nose.
Her brainstorming session was going nothing short of horribly. Her day had been going horribly, to be honest, with a string of unfortunate events pushing her work time back further and further. Her last collection hadn't done as well as she hoped it would: not a total failure, but not her usual success either. The elevator had gotten stuck, so she had been locked out of her penthouse for most of the day, unexpected rain had practically shut the city down, and her tablet had died before midday, so she couldn't even get work done. She had thought that finally getting to put pencil to paper would cheer her up a bit, but her mood was so dampened she couldn't get any ideas.
Honey huffed, frustrated, and rubbed her face, fetching her now empty coffee mug from the table and standing up. She navigated her way to the kitchen, and as she did, she cast a gaze out the big windows of her penthouse, expecting pitch black sky.
She heard a heartbeat. Her eyes were on the sky. It resounded all around her.
No heartbeat followed. Instead, it was the high-pitched tone of a heart-monitor.
The coffee mug slipped from her hands and shattered on the ground. She didn't even notice, jumping over the mess on socked feet and rushing outside, tossing the door open so hard it almost shattered on her. Out onto the balcony she stumbled, which was still moist from the day's earlier rain, and barely catching herself on the railing, eyes turned skywards with horror.
It was all she could hear. It filled her ears, it was in her head, suffocating her, and she knew, wasn't sure how, that it was coming from there. That spot. In the sky.
"Stop," she breathed to herself, hands squeezing the balcony railing, moisture soaking through her gloves. "Stop. Stop it. Gaia stop it."
It wouldn't stop. She was back in the hospital, in that room, even though she wasn't, she was standing outside, staring up at the sky and seeing nothing but she knew death itself was up there, it was in the air, it was trying to smother her. She was choking on a sound, if that was possible, on a sound that was coming from the stars, and she didn't know how.
"Stop it!" Honey cried, and pressed her hands to her ears, ducked her head, sucked in a sharp breath.
The world was about to End. Gaia, that was what was happening, she knew it in her soul. The world was about to End, and she would die with this sound in her ears, this sound that had almost taken her, even if it hadn't been the noise itself, it had come to take her once and for all regardless, it—
Wait.
Honey looked up. Even as the beep grew all consuming and tried to smother her thoughts. She looked up, squinted at the night sky, her fear still caught up in her throat, but searching, expecting…
There.
A streak of gold, tiny and thin, cutting across the night sky. She watched, horror ebbing slightly, as it crossed the sky at the speed a car might cruise at. Slow from down here, she realized, but impossibly fast up there, in the vastness of space.
Sonic.
He was like a shooting star. He could have been a shooting star, except no, he wasn't, she knew for certain that was Sonic. The sound seemed to fade into the background, as she watched him cross the sky. It had to be him. Who else was there always when the world was about to End? Who else would dare charge at death?
The sound seemed to get louder. The balcony railing was cold against her stomach, moisture soaking into her dress, as she leaned against it, eyes tracing that comet in the night sky.
"Go," she breathed, the fear making way for the word.
Then all at once, the sound was gone.
Light, red and white, lit up the sky, a firework in space. She gasped, reeled back as if expecting to feel the blow back of the explosion, but it was distant—she felt none of it. No incessant beeping of a flat line consuming her thoughts, but the heartbeat didn't come back either. It was gone. Something was dead. She watched that tiny golden star as it hovered, before beginning to descend. Sonic had killed it, that she knew for certain. What he'd killed, she wasn't sure. The sound still rung in her ears, but the source of it was fading from her mind. The way it had worked. Where had that sound come from? What had it been? The End?
…yeah. That sounded right. The End. Something bad. Certain death.
And Sonic had just killed it, shooting through it like a star.
…
"Gaia," Honey managed. She heaved an exhausted breath before turning around and going back inside. She made sure to shut the door behind her, softly, so as to not risk it actually breaking on her. When she noticed the broken coffee mug, she paused, before turning to go find the broom.
She shouldn't have been so scared, really. That was… a regular Tuesday by now, by the world's standards. Something would go wrong, the world would try to end itself, and Sonic would dash in, smile bright like a star, and everything would be alright.
Huh.
She found the broom, but rested it against the counter, staring at the broken shards of the mug for a second.
Then her eyes slipped to her sketchbook.
Honey vaulted over the back of her couch, landing in the cushions at the same time she snatched her sketchbook from the coffee table, somehow not smacking her face on anything. She leaned back into the cushions, spinning her pencil between her fingers briefly before she started sketching, hand moving at lightning speed.
That was the thing about Sonic, wasn't it? Bright like a star, always. Stars, historically, were symbols of hope. "Wish upon a star". It was in movies and books and children's stories. They could grant wishes if you hoped, if you believed, if you had faith. They could light up the dark and ward against fear. Sonic was like that. Exactly like that. She had not met anyone yet, no one at all, who did not feel inspired when they met Sonic. Who was not at least stirred to hope for a better future. Wherever he went he lit up the night, sometimes literally, glowing golden. He warded off fear. "Never fear, because Sonic the Hedgehog is here".
When they had lost him, during the war, it was not unlike a storm rolling in, darkening the world. Not unlike one of those historic volcanic eruptions that blanketed the world in ash and hid space from view, hid stars from view, left civilization starving of hope. When Sonic came back, that hope rekindled. He was a glimmer in the dark. She was sure they were all wishing upon him then. Clasping their hands and looking off into the dark and seeing him glow, and wishing, and hoping:
Save us all.
She stared at the sketch of the dress, contemplated, and then added a train, a trail of fabric to the back of the skirt, like the tail of a shooting star. He was like that as well. He left a trail, a glowing path of change, wherever he went, wherever he touched. She swore the plants grew healthier when he was around. He made everyone laugh, made everyone smile, left in everything he touched a bit of the glow and glitter he shed. Like shooting stars, in the movies, that soared over landscapes and changed everything with their magic, made the world a better place, flawless and perfect. He was the world's happy ending; he was what made it perfect, if only an illusion, only for a moment.
She paused. Considered the dress. Again.
It was loose. Not form fitting. No. Sonic wasn't conforming, he was free like the wind and free like a star, far above the concept of consequence, beheld with almost divinity.
Bright colors. The colors of space. Gold, specifically. Everyone knew stars were yellow or gold, set against black or dark blue. Maybe white. At least that's what everyone thought of, children especially, when they think of a star. Five points, yellow or gold, on black or blue.
She fumbled for her colored pencils and shaded in the corresponding areas. Considered.
The glow was important. Stars were known for their glow. Sonic was as well. Especially when he was super. When he was Super, he shone. If you looked up, and did not know it was him, in the night sky, he was literally a star.
LEDs in the skirt then. She didn't like glitter or sequins. They felt cheap. And glitter always came off and got on everything. This version of the dress would glow, literally, would light up like a star.
Honey looked up then. The sky was clear now, but still, she could see the echoes of the explosion, and hear the ringing in her ears. Gingerly, she set the dress down. Guess Sonic had granted her a wish today as well, even if she hadn't quite wished it upon him.
"I'll make it good," she whispered, softly, setting the sketchbook down on the table gently. "I promise."
Honey picked her way through the fabric store, squinting at all of the options.
The first thing she had done was check her storage back in her penthouse, but she'd never tackled a space-oriented project before, so she found herself dissatisfied with the selection. Which was fine, since fabric shopping was one of her favorite parts of designing clothes. Of course, when she actually went to make the versions of the clothes that would be sold to the public, she'd get the custom fabrics ordered from her supplier that were far more durable—the outfits had to last years of constant wear, after all, targeted as they were towards mobians—but for the purposes of her making the dress right now, the fabric from this store would suffice.
She found her way towards were all of the more yellow-ish fabrics were kept, looking for golden fabric that hopefully wasn't covered in glitter that would shed all over her apartment.
She'd learned her lesson about glitter.
As she scanned the fabrics, music played overhead. Ironically, she recognized the song. Something about stars. It felt far too fitting for this. She didn't recall the artist, however. Not any artist that was well known to her, specifically.
…that was another way to look at a star, wasn't it? An idol. Someone who was like the stars in the night sky: special, capable of captivating the attention of the whole world. It was a use of the word star that was far removed from its celestial origins, but it held the echoes of them all the same.
There were hundreds, if not thousands, of stars in the world. People with all sorts of talents, skills, offerings that they brought to the table, all capable of captivating a portion of the world, some more than others. It depended on where you stood, from where you looked up at the "night sky", what kind of media you consumed. That dictated your stars.
But Sonic was truly such a universal star, wasn't he? For who didn't know Sonic the Hedgehog, Hero of Mobius? He was the star of billions. He inspired, the talent he brought to the media something unique and wholly him—he was the brightest star in everyone's night sky.
Honey knew, somehow, she was up there with him. A star to some people as well, thanks to her fashion brand. But the mere idea still seemed unfathomable to her. Because… her? Up there? Amidst the stars, with Sonic the Hedgehog? How could anyone even hope to shine as bright as he did?
…maybe he wasn't so much a star so much as he was the Sun. Ever present and bright enough to deserve the sky to himself. Turned the dark to shades of cotton-candy, and then to bright, shocking blue.
Honey blinked. Looked down at the fabric she'd been considering. It was gold, a metallic sheen. She marked in her mind where it was. Perfect. That's what she wanted. At least, what she wanted at first.
But maybe she didn't want just dark blue. It'd be a bit more complicated, but…
She went off to find the light blue shades. And maybe some white lace, as well.
Honey didn't even blink when she accidentally pricked her finger, as she worked to drape the fabric over the dress form. She simply adjusted, making sure the fabric was being held in place before she moved on. The dress was… well, it was coming along. And for that she was glad.
She'd hummed, pinning the train of the dress in place and considering how she would go about decorating it. She'd found some beautiful dark-blue, starry, velvet fabric, perfect for what she needed from it, and now her mind was finding patterns amidst the star speckles, wondering if she had metallic silver thread she could use to embroider constellations into the train.
Constellations usually represented heroes, villains, victims, monsters, those captured in the sky as if it was a net. That much she knew. They were stories from civilizations past, even if the world frustratingly tended to ignore others in favor of focusing on only one region, but by now their tales were known across the world. The constellations still held their stories, fading visuals of what they commemorated, and what they honored.
Some of them were monuments to tragedy. Like Gemini, which had immortalized two twins. Some of them were a means to show off, like Sagittarius, which was supposedly about the guy that invented archery. Some of them were testaments to the heroic feats of others, like Cancer, which was a monster defeated by Hercules.
Honey knew, in the end, that their interpretations and meanings were subjective. They were strung together a bit like she was working right now, looking at dots in the fabric and debating what shapes they could form, with no meaning until given one.
She found a particular bright dot, and hummed.
She wondered if Sonic would ever get a constellation. Unlikely, since it was an honor bestowed by civilizations long gone, but she felt it would be fitting. Something for him, showing off, or perhaps a constellation about something he had defeated. Maybe that thing from a week or two ago. Killed in the sky, maybe it dropped the dots necessary to make something for Sonic's victory.
But no, it wouldn't be right. Sonic's constellation had to include the North Star. That was Ursa Minor's thing, of course, cute little bear it was, but if Sonic had to have a constellation, it would just have to. He was always there when needed, guiding the way in the dark. Or maybe it could be Sirius. The brightest star in the sky after the sun, easy to find. He shone like that, certainly, the brightest of all the heroes they had. What was he if not a star, brought to life?
Her mind, briefly, jumped to Peter Pan, who came from Neverland, from some land beyond the stars, second one to the right, and she pondered maybe, if Sonic had come from some place like that as well. Maybe that's why he shone so bright, and maybe eventually he would return there, and they'd find him up in the night sky, be able to point him out, and maybe his light would be key to his own constellation.
She chuckled. Shook her head. Looked up at the rest of the dress. No one really knew, that's for sure. Where Sonic came from and where he would go, whether he was as much of a star as he appeared, if one would be named for him or a constellation fashioned for him. No one knew. Not yet.
She got up to go find her pencil.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to this on such a short notice."
The dog mobian, Laika, was one of her go-to models for ads and photo shoots. Honey hadn't been planning to have this photo shoot until much, much later, as the only piece really done was the dress, but the magnetic storms lit the skies up with an aurora like she had never seen before in her life, and she'd rushed to call Laika and the rest of her team, to see if they had time drop everything to get the photo shoot now, under the glow of the Northern Lights.
"Of course," Laika agreed, with a soft smile. Her long fur had been done up into buns and swirls adorned with golden beads and colorful strands, courtesy of their hairstylist. And her makeup, as always, was incredible, done by Honey's trusted makeup artist. "I mean… when else would I get a chance like this? Only if we were to travel."
Honey nodded. Her eyes were still caught up in the Northern Lights, dancing above them. They had looked brighter through her phone camera, and she couldn't wait to see how they would look like in the photos, in the hands of professionals.
"The dress is lovely, Honey," Laika told her. They were set up in a flowery field, away from the city, and so the only sounds nearby were those of nature. Laika's words carried to her softly, whispers of the stars. "Where did you get the idea?"
Honey chuckled. "I think you can guess, Lai."
Laika laughed. It was a nice, breathy sound, and a firm hand—always so deceptive compared to Laika's delicate appearance—patted Honey's shoulder. "Maybe you should show him as well. I think he'd like to see he's still inspiring you, all these years later."
Honey chuckled. Looked back at Laika, and could just barely see the smile in her eyes. She felt a smile of her own bloom in her face, a smile which stayed even as her camera crew called out to them, and her photographer beckoned Laika over. They were all trusted friends, and she knew they could handle the process well with minor input from her, so she settled down in the foldable chairs beside the makeup artist and the hairstylist, taking an offered hot chocolate and considering Laika in front of her.
Her eyes drifted upwards soon enough, to the dancing aurora borealis. It was beautiful, captivating, so much so it was hard to remember it wasn't just magic sometimes. But no, like everything else, it was science. Behind the spectacle sat an electromagnetic storm, messing with particles in the atmosphere. It just so happened to be that the phenomenon was what society would call beautiful.
A bit like stars, really.
For all of the ways they were glorified, stars were really just giant balls of energy floating in a vast expanse of nothing. A bit like Sonic as well, she guessed. He was just a guy, in their world. To shine so bright, stars burned through themselves, the very atoms in their core, reshaping them in the most primordial way, going and going and going until they burnt out when there was nothing left at all. Then they died. And when they died it was a spectacle, it was the fascination of millions, some of them going supernova, becoming pulsars, others collapsing inwards to form black holes, shedding off their very essence, and some others, not quite big enough for supernovae, becoming white dwarfs at the very least, lonely, cooling cores.
…she wondered what Sonic would become, once he burnt out. Because he was burning out, like any star, like any person, especially because he was Sonic, burning through what he was to fuel his efforts to share it with the world. When he ran out of him, when he could no longer give himself to keep living… what happened then? How would he go out? It was going to be a spectacle, of course, there was no room for doubt about that in her mind. But what kind of spectacle? A gentle death and collapse, shedding who he was to become a white dwarf, cooling core, leaving behind a gentle glow? Or perhaps a supernova, an explosion that would be a one-in-a-lifetime event to behold, leaving in its wake immediate destruction, but also the materials needed to form life?
Maybe he'd be a black hole. He'd be so great and vast and grand, that when he died, the universe itself would reject his absence, and where he once was, a deadly hollow would form. His death would bring nothing but destruction, everything sucked into the tragedy of it, none spared from it.
…Honey took a deep breath, and looked down from the sky. Laika was busy throwing her arms out, head back, a silent howl on her lips and eyes closed. She felt space and didn't see it, clearly more grounded in the earth, in their home. Honey took a sip of her hot cocoa, and chuckled.
Or maybe, Sonic was just like them. Just a guy who loved adventure. That's what he told everyone, wasn't it?
Honey just couldn't unsee the star in him.