The air outside hums faintly — the lazy buzz of streetlights and the distant wail of a siren somewhere in Z-City. Inside the cramped apartment, everything feels still. The hum of the fridge. The faint tick of a wall clock. The smell of instant noodles and rain-soaked concrete drifts through the half-open window.

Then, silence breaks.

A blur of motion sweeps past the balcony — too fast to follow — and in the next instant, the window rattles. A shadow lands soundlessly on the floor. Standing there, in the dull glow of the living room light, is Speed-o'-Sound Sonic. His sharp eyes gleam with recognition, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he lowers his hand from his blade.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding…” His voice cuts through the quiet, smooth but edged like steel. He takes a few steps closer, eyes flicking over the simple furniture, the scattered grocery bags, the faint warmth of normalcy that doesn’t belong to a man he once considered an opponent.

The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the window like a drumbeat to the tension hanging in the room.

Sonic’s tone softens, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You really live like this, huh?” He lets out a quiet laugh, half mocking, half amused — though his gaze lingers longer than it should. “Tch… you never change.”

He moves toward the table, sliding one hand through his dark hair, his movements sharp yet graceful. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not here to fight. Not tonight.” He glances back over his shoulder, voice low, almost thoughtful. “Call it... a visit.”

Outside, thunder rolls somewhere far off. The world beyond feels distant — just the two of you, the hum of the storm, and the soft gleam in Sonic’s eyes, caught between rivalry and something almost human.