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The dirt crumbled and clung to Silver’s hands, allowing him to pull the bright yellow weed free from his carefully tended dark soil.
The small thing really wasn’t that big of a nuisance, not to Silver, at least, but he wanted the carefully measured resources dedicated to his garden to go to his chosen crops, not to a few free flying seeds that happened to land just right.
He set the weed aside in his wheelbarrow before turning back to the newly made hole, inspecting it for any roots that could have been left behind.
There was none he could really see, thankfully.
Satisfied with the weed’s removal, he took some dirt mixed with fertilizer and filled it up.
There was something just… soothing about gardening. About tending to a plant, caring for it, and being able to see it benefit from the care. It was nice to see something blatantly benefit from his intervention.
He had started out as a bit of a novice in terms of growing; hell, his very location had been wrong! But he’d like to think his skills, and his garden, have grown a lot.
Right now, he was working on some snap peas! Vanilla had some in her own garden and they were absolutely delicious!
Silver stood up from where he was kneeled in the earth, brushing the dark soil from his fur.
The wheelbarrow squeaked as he pushed it inside the small shack he had, full of weeds and trimmed off leaves, yellow and brown.
He placed his wide brim yellow hat on the table, peeling off his rubber gloves.
The hat had been a gift from Amy, much like the land and shack had been, her passing it down to someone who might use it more. It was much appreciated.
Silver hummed as he tossed his rubber gloves to the side, turning back to the wheelbarrow.
There was a stone pit in the shack, effectively a fireplace, and Silver had made a habit of harvesting the ashes from it to use as fertilizer. Waste not, want not.
Which is actually why he brought his clippings in!
Silver tosses the spare leaves in, watches for a moment as the small and dying fire consumes them, making pops and sparks.
He turns back to the wheelbarrow, carefully shaking the dirt off the roots of the weeds.
It’s quiet and nice, just the crackle of the burning clippings and his own humming.
Dirt shaken off, Silver turns and tosses the armful of dandelions into the fireplace-
The fire roars up at the fuel.
Admittedly, it wasn’t by much but it was enough, enough for his stupid brain to latch onto a fear that shouldn’t even exist.
Silver yelped in minor panic, darting back from the flames.
For a moment, it’s like his brain is on fire itself, it’s as if the flames had actively leapt out of the pit and caught his fur, even though he knew it actually hadn’t.
Fire has followed Silver all his life, in his various possible places, well, times, of origin, in his dreams, even in the company he keeps, a smell of ash permanently hovering over him.
Ash stuck to his mouth and his fur and his mind, a thing he has never been able to wash out, and, even in this small way, Silver finds himself reeling.
It’s nothing,
Silver tells himself, forcing his brain back into reality, even though his mind wants nothing more than to turn into a fog.
It’s nothing, the fire’s even calm now.
No. It seems calm. Silver knows it, he knows the second he moves, it’ll move too, chasing him, following him, burning this cabin and his garden to nothing but ash, all his spring peas gone up in smoke.
I’m being ridiculous, Silver says to himself, forcing himself to take a step towards his wheelbarrow. He halts as he does so, eyeing the fire. Completely ridiculous.
Fire can’t move, at the very least, not like that. And even if it could, Silver could stop it. Right?
Right, he assures himself, gripping the wheelbarrow with shaking hands and more or less fleeing from the shack. Silver’s got this. He has control of this.
Silver tosses and turns that night, ash filling his mouth as he sees a fire starting from his garden and spreading to the world until there’s not even enough of the world left for a future and Silver himself fizzles out of existence.
Vanilla’s fireplace flickers as the older rabbit places a log in it and Silver can’t help but yank away, a slight teal aura appearing before Silver forces himself to relax.
His face burns, shame making him duck his head, hoping no one noticed. Why’d he do that? Why? It’s fine. He knows he’s fine. Why are his hands trembling?
He closes his eyes, drags his hands down in his arms in an almost soothing motion but the slight pressure of his untrimmed claws keeps it from being fully comforting, which is good because he doesn’t need to be comforted. He’s fine.
“Silver?” Shadow says and Silver looks over at the other hedgehog.
His usually downturned expression does not fit with the attire Cream has equipped him with, a cheap sparkly crown with a fluffy pink boa.
Silver imagines he looks just as ridiculous, what with the purple throw rug tossed over his head in a child’s improvisation of a wig.
“Sorry,” Silver said, fidgeting in his seat. “Got… distracted.”
“I noticed,” Shadow huffed. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been distracted for… well, a while now.”
Was it that obvious? If even Shadow noticed…
“It’s nothing,” Silver said hastily. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Debatable,” Shadow snorted. “You’re no more a fan of fire than any of us but it’s been worse lately. You’ve been worse lately.”
“Worse?” Silver questioned, head shooting up. Shadow made a slight face.
“I meant-” Shadow started.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Silver said hotly, standing to his feet, the rug on his head dropping to the floor. “The future’s safe, so is the present! I have nothing to be ‘worse’ about. And if you think there’s something wrong with me-!”
“Sit down,” Shadow said, glaring up at Silver. “You’re still in Vanilla’s house. Have some manners.”
Silver’s face went red, a mix of anger, embarrassment, and shame. He sat down again, letting the frustration stew and settle in his stomach, like a mixture of day old food.
“There’s… nothing wrong with something being wrong with you,” Shadow says and Silver tries to find amusement, vindication, something, in how Shadow stumbles over his words. He can’t. The shame just grows at how quickly his anger hopped up and how Shadow managed to stay so… cool. Silver wishes he was more like that.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Silver muttered again. “Can’t you just let it go?”
“I’m not one of your little pushover friends who’ll let you stew in this until it comes up at an inopportune time,” Shadow rolls his eyes. Silver opens his mouth to defend said ‘pushover friends’ but Shadow isn’t done talking. “It starts small but it grows and then people get hurt due to your negligence. Your mental health is just as vital a weapon as your powers.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Silver said, glancing away. Shadow sighed, briefly removing his tiara so he could facepalm.
“My point is,” Shadow grumbled. “If you need help, there are options. Not just for your mental care either, I still remember your pitiful performance in our race the other day.”
Silver made another face.
Sonic had challenged Shadow and Silver to a race and the other two had insisted Silver not use his telepathic powers for it.
Silver had agreed, thinking it’d be nice to see how his actual speed held up.
He didn’t even finish one lap before he was lying on his back, wheezing while Sonic and Shadow zoomed past him. He was half convinced one of his lungs gave out.
“Can we not bring that up?” Silver grumbled, pouting.
“I’ll message you my therapist’s number,” Shadow said, pulling his flip phone out.
“You have a therapist?” Silver said, incredulous. Shadow looked up from where he had pulled out his phone, glaring at Silver.
“Of course, I do,” Shadow said, daring Silver to disagree. “Aren’t I incredibly well adjusted?”
Well, considering you compared good mental health to a weapon, I’d say no,
Silver thought to himself.
“Alright, thanks,” Silver said out loud. “I guess… I guess I’ll check them out.”
“I’ll tell her to expect your call,” Shadow said dryly, Silver wincing. “Make sure to let me know when you do.”
“I’ve got the tea!” Cream called out as she stepped back in, nearly tripping from her oversized dress. Shadow tucked his phone away and Silver let out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping Shadow would forget this conversation altogether.
Silver did admittedly attempt to avoid Shadow’s therapist but the dark hedgehog had none of it, continually insisting and also threatening Silver into calling the woman.
Which is why Silver now held his phone in his hands, the moogle map showing him the occupants of the apartments he stood before.
He can’t believe he’s doing this. Isn’t therapy for mentally unwell people, people who can’t function without help?
Silver has no problems, he’s fine! Everything is fine!
…But Shadow had threatened to get him banned from Vanilla’s,somehow, so up to the therapist he goes.
The office is calm, ocean like colors, blues and creams and whites, the floor carpeted.
There’s no one inside and Silver considers stepping out.
“Oh, hello,” a voice calls from a separate office in the room. “Welcome! Are you my 2’o clock, Silver?”
Well, too late for that now.
Silver steps into the room, noting two chairs facing each other. The assumed therapist sits in one, a table with various objects, including a clock, next to her.
“Hi,” Silver says meekly.
“Hello, Silver,” she says, motioning to the secondary chair. “I’m Dr. Klein. Take a seat.”
Silver does so, sinking into the comfortable and leathery chair.
“So, what brings you here today?” she asks, pulling up a clipboard.
“Didn’t Shadow already tell you?” Silver asked.
“Shadow did not,” Dr. Klein said. “After all, if you’re to also be my patient, it’s good I get it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Oh, uh, nothing, really,” Silver says. “Just trying to get Shadow off my back. He’s been weird lately.”
“Can I ask why your friend is so concerned?” the therapist asks.
“I’ve been really out of it lately,” Silver admitted. “My thoughts keep going back to things that have happened and things that could happen but… that’s normal! Right?”
“It is,” Dr. Klein agrees and Silver smiles. “At certain frequencies. How often do your thoughts seem to revolve around your past and future?”
“Uh, all the time!” Silver laughed. The therapist hummed, noting something down. “Wait, is that bad?”
“Is it just general reflection or is there a focus to these thoughts?” she ignores his question, asking one of her own.
“Well, um, I guess they’re about how the future and present have been threatened before and could be threatened again…” Silver frowned, the taste of ash once again appearing on his tongue. “But that’s part of my job. To worry.”
“Not if it stops you from living your life,” the therapist says gently. “Are these thoughts useful, productive?”
“Well, uh, no,” Silver fidgeted, dragging his claws lightly up and down his arms. “Nothing is going wrong right now.”
Dr. Klein said nothing, just listened in a way that made the words just come out, like smoke from a chimney.
“But, but doesn’t that mean I’m fine? The future’s safe, the present’s safe, there’s nothing for me to worry about! I’m fine! I should be fine!” Silver insisted. He should be fine. He shouldn’t even be here.
“But you’re used to worrying,” she said softly. “To a state of hypervigilance.”
“Hyper what?” Silver frowned. “Is that a super form?”
“Well, not really,” the therapist chuckled before sobering up. “Silver. When you visualize your future, what do you see?”
Fire. Nothing. It was hard to imagine a moment beyond this one that wasn’t miserable, that didn’t end in some kind of ruin. He tried to, he really did, but…
Oh. That's probably a bad thing.
Silver didn’t say anything out loud.
“Would you like to change that?” she asked.
Silver looked up at her.
…It’d be nice to burn his weeds without a minor freak out…
“Yeah,” Silver said weakly, avoiding her gaze.
“Good,” Dr. Klein said. “Let’s start there.”