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I've never been good at sitting still.
It's like asking fire not to burn or waves not to crash. The world spins too fast and I have to run just to keep up, or maybe I run so fast the world tries to catch me.
But even I stop sometimes.
Like now.
It's quiet out here. Real quiet. Just the hush of leaves whispering against each other, a breeze tugging at my quills, and the distant hum of city life far, far away. I come here to think sometimes. Usually not for long. But tonight, I needed more than just a sprint across Green Hill Zone.
I needed air. Space.
I needed him not to be in my head.
Too bad that's not how any of this works.
I think to myself as I stare down at the notebook spread across my legs.
I started writing this list as a joke.
"100 Reasons Why I Love Him." C'mon. Doesn't that sound like something Amy would do back in the day when she'd doodle hearts in her notebook with my name inside?
Only... the joke stopped being funny after number twelve.
By number thirty-five, I stopped pretending I was doing this to laugh at myself.
And now, here I am. Ninety-nine reasons scrawled in the back of a wrinkled, half-ripped notebook I swiped from Tails' lab. One more to go.
One more reason I love Shadow the Hedgehog.
And one reason I can't.
⸻
Reason #1: He doesn't back down.
It's infuriating. Stupid. Irrational. He will never give up. Doesn't matter if the odds are impossible, if the enemy's bigger, if his bones are breaking—he just keeps going.
I used to think it was pride. Maybe ego. But now I know better.
He keeps fighting because he believes in something. Even if it's buried under pain or anger or guilt—he believes. That kind of stubborn hope dressed up in edge and silence? It's kinda beautiful.
⸻
Reason #17: His voice.
I'd never say it out loud, but—man. There's something about it. That low, serious tone like he's narrating a movie trailer or reading poetry in his sleep. It's calm even when he's furious. Steady when mine would crack. Like he's holding the world in place with every word.
⸻
Reason #31: He doesn't care if people like him.
I mean, I do. I like being liked. I thrive on it. But Shadow? He walks through the world like it owes him nothing and he's got nothing left to prove. There's something kind of... raw about that. Like a storm that doesn't need to shout to be terrifying.
⸻
Reason #50: The way he looks when he thinks no one's watching.
He's got this look. Quiet. Almost soft. Like he's listening to a memory or feeling something he doesn't want anyone else to see. Like the weight of the world's caught up to him—but for just a second, he lets it show.
I saw it once when he was staring out over the city skyline. Just us, after a mission, too tired to fight, too wired to sleep.
He didn't say a word. But I think I fell a little harder right then.
⸻
Reason #72: He remembers everything.
I mean everything. People's names. Battle details. Casual things I say off-hand and forget five seconds later. He listens like the world depends on it. Like I depend on it. And I guess I do, more than I wanna admit.
⸻
Reason #87: He's not afraid to be alone.
That kind of solitude would eat me alive.
But not him. He makes loneliness look like armor. Maybe it is. Maybe he had to learn to be okay with silence and stillness and shadows (yeah, yeah, irony), because no one ever showed him how to belong.
I wanna be the one who does.
⸻
And now we're here.
Reason 100.
The hardest one.
Not because I don't know it.
But because it makes all the other ninety-nine feel like a trap.
⸻
Reason #100: He's real.
Not the kind of "real" people throw around when they mean "honest" or "cool" or "different." I mean real real. Raw edges. Flaws that don't apologize. Anger that's not always righteous. Pain that's never gone away.
Shadow doesn't pretend to be okay. He isn't okay.
And yet... he keeps moving forward anyway.
That's what love is, isn't it? Admiring someone not in spite of their flaws, but because of them. Because those cracks make them human. Or hedgehog, I guess.
He doesn't let people in easy. Maybe he never has. But he let me in once.
Only once.
And I slammed the door shut myself.
⸻
The One Reason I Can't:
Because we're supposed to be enemies.
Because every time we meet, the world holds its breath. Because Eggman laughs at the idea of us tearing each other apart. Because our rivalry is more than personal, it's legend.
Heroes don't fall in love with the ones they're meant to fight.
And maybe that's cowardly. Maybe it's dramatic. But that line in the sand keeps me safe. It keeps him safe, too.
If I crossed it.. what would happen?
Would I lose the fight?
Or would I lose him?
⸻
I remember the last time we fought. Really fought. Not that playful sparring we pretend isn't flirting. I mean blows exchanged, blood spilled, world ending stakes kinda fight.
He looked at me like I'd betrayed him.
But I hadn't said anything wrong. Not really.
He just asked why I kept pushing him away.
And I said, "Because if I don't, I'll fall."
He didn't understand. Or maybe he did, and it hurt too much to hear. Either way, he vanished. Teleported out. Left me standing in the wreckage of some long dead battlefield.
It's been three weeks. No sign of him.
Until now.
I hear him before I see him. A pulse of chaos energy, faint but sharp. Then his silhouette at the edge of the trees. Moonlight spills on his fur like silver armor.
Shadow.
He looks the same, but different. Tired, maybe. Or maybe I'm just projecting.
"You're here," he says. No surprise in his voice. Just certainty. Like he knew I'd be here.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. "You always show up when I'm trying to be alone. You stalking me?"
A flicker of a smirk. Barely there.
"No. You just hide in the most obvious places."
I glance down at the notebook in my lap, the page still open to number 100.
He sees it. Of course he does.
"What's that?" he asks.
I hesitate. The words stick. My usual quick wit dies in my throat.
"A list," I finally say.
"Of what?"
I look up. His eyes are steady, unreadable. But waiting.
I flip the notebook shut. "Doesn't matter."
"I think it does."
Of course he'd say that. Of course he'd press.
"I wrote down a hundred reasons why I love you," I say. Fast. Like ripping off a bandage. "And one reason I can't."
The air goes still.
Not even the wind moves.
Shadow doesn't react right away. Then he steps forward. Closer. Just enough to make my heart panic in my chest.
"You love me?" he says. Voice flat, but soft.
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I do."
Silence again.
Then, gently: "And the reason you can't?"
I laugh once. It sounds more like a cough. "Because we're enemies, Shads. Because you're you, and I'm me, and that's the story, right?"
He stares at me like he's trying to read past the page. Like the real answer's hidden somewhere behind my eyes.
"We don't have to be," he says.
"What?"
He takes another step. "Enemies. That's a choice. One we keep making."
I don't move.
He does.
Now he's right in front of me.
"I've hated you before," he says. "Wanted to beat you. Break you. But I don't hate you now."
I swallow.
"Then what do you feel?"
He raises one hand. It hovers near my face like a question.
"Everything you wrote. And maybe more."
His fingers brush my cheek. It's the softest thing I've ever felt from him. Like trust.
Like forgiveness.
"I read your list," he murmurs. "You dropped it once. Weeks ago. During a fight."
"You... read it?"
He nods. "I couldn't stop."
"And?"
"I've been writing my own since."
He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his glove. Not a notebook. Just a page. Folded twelve times.
"Only one reason on it."
"What is it?"
He hands it to me.
I unfold it.
In perfect handwriting, it reads:
"Because he reminds me that I'm alive."
We don't speak after that.
He leans in.
I let him.
And for the first time in forever, I stop running.
Maybe we were enemies.
Maybe we aren't anymore.
Maybe loving him is the most dangerous, reckless thing I've ever done.
But then again, I've always liked danger.
And I've never backed down from a fight worth winning.