Nocturne for the Ultimate Life Form

by ThatPinkBunni

Summary:

Shadow the hedgehog hasn't slept in a very long time. He has been haunted by memories he can't fully recall and he is burdened by a purpose he no longer understands. He started having dreams again and that's the problem.
The quiet is beginning to crack. Nightmares are beginning to bleed into reality and something is watching from the dark.
In the silence of darkness, Shadow is unraveling— and even the unbreakable can come undone.

Notes:

I would like to first thank you for reading. This is a deeply personal story for me as it deals with some things that I have been struggling with myself mostly sleep.. If you're here for shadows emotional depth I hope you find something in the story that resonates.

This is an alternate universe based on Shadow the hedgehog. I honestly like Shadow the hedgehog and how he is obsessed with coffee so I linked coffee with insomnia and so on. This is going to explore some of his struggles and his mental well-being. The story delves into themes of grief survival guilt and other eternal conflicts inside shadows mind that he himself cannot remember or control.

This story is going to have heavy topics in psychological elements so this is a warning.

Chapter 1: In the middle of the night...

He swallowed his cup of coffee that turned cold an hour ago, continued looking at the screen monitor's clock, 3:00 am. Shadow was beat up all night trying to get some work done, but it seems like the days of nonstop working have gotten the best of him tonight. He blinked slowly and looked towards the darkest spot in his room since he needed to rest his eyes from the bluelight. He was used to looking into the darkness anyway. 

 

His apartment bedroom is small. Cramped even. The walls feel like they're inching inwards just enough to feel suffocating. It doesn’t help that his room is completely pitch black most of the time. He blocked the window with cardboard boxes and a thick curtain, in that when he does rest it helps his eyes not get burned from the sunrays. Some days he would faint on the ground due to his body begging for him to rest. Tonight the faint blue glow from the computer screen monitor in front of him is the only thing barely holding back the darkness from engulfing him.

 

It's been a year since he got any sleep. At first it wasn't so bad, he didn’t even notice he was losing sleep now that he was being productive. Besides he is the ultimate life form he can go days without any sleep…and yet he has been feeling heavier lately. Tired. He wanted to close his eyes just for once tonight. His body feels exhausted, so tired, tired with everything, but his mind didn’t stop — his mind won't stop thinking . He was anxious but he ddn’t understand why. He yawned deeply and looked at the clock on the wall. 4:00 am. That annofelt like it was fryingying clock. He said to himself as he heard it.

 

Tick, tick, tick.

 

He let out a heavy sigh and laid his head on his crossed arms. I shouldn’t have looked at the clock. He thought to himself. He is aware that looking at the clock won’t bring back all the hours wasted in not sleeping. He turned away to not face the clock and shut his eyes. When he shut his eyes, a deep, dark blue from the screen monitors could only be hinted at behind his closed eyes. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe tonight, I’ll finally get some rest, he tells himself. The silence of the room matched his slowing breath. He loosened his grip from his tense hands, slightly tucking his head deeper into his folded arms. His body gave in, and he slipped into sleep.

 

The room was dead silent. The type of silence that should have been comforting, but something felt wrong at this very moment. Before he knew it, he heard it. 

 

Tick, 

Tick, 

Tick.

 

His ear twitched, picking up the sound of that clock again. It started off subtle and mildly annoying till the ticking started to pound his ears. He decided to focus on his breathing instead to try to block the sound of that clock. Tick, Tick, Tick...The ticking kept getting worse, the only thing he could do was wince as the sound hammer at his nerve. Ignoring it. Hoping that the sound will drain off sooner or later. He felt tender from a slight cold breeze that hit the back of his quills.

 

 He hold his breath for a second, it felt like his lungs were being gripped by his ribs. He felt fear for a split second. His mouth turned dry. He tried to gulp the saliva he had stuck in the back of his throat. Deciding on breaking the tension he tried to move at least a little bit so he could shrug it off. Nothing happened. 

 

His arms didn't even give much of a twitch. It wasn’t just his arms, his body felt numb. Why can't I move? He asked himself, his heart started to race. He trashed around his head, trying to come up with something, anything to make him move. He could no longer ignore it. The once soft blue hue that surrounded him was now completely red, the computer screen glitching completely. He could hear distorted sounds through the speakers. That clock once more…

 

TICK .

TICK .

TICK.

 

Wake up…please wake up.

Then he felt it. A hand. A small, warm, soft hand. So small that it felt like a little dove's wing. Slowly and gently gliding across his head, stroking his quills. He cuts his breathing sharply like a knife. Terror rushed through him. 

 

Don't open your eyes. Don't open your eyes. Just ignore it.

 

That hand. The way it petted his head. He knows this gentle caress. He's afraid, no terrified to look up. The thoughts in his mind started to race and everything in his will begged his body and mind to ignore it. This is not her. This is not Maria. 

 

Just ignore it…

 

Shadows' breath cut off as fear wrapped itself around his ribs, squeezing out every bit of air he had. 

 

Stop. Please—stop. 

 

Whatever this thing is, it leaned in closer to him, he could feel its face hovering quietly just above his. Her breathing brush against his cheek. In a faint quiet whisper he heard his name.

 

Shadow…

 

Behind him, a black figure stood silently—its form barely distinguishable from the darkness, save for the burning crimson eyes that pierced through his back like a stabbing knife.

He choked out for air as if he was underwater.

Then, suddenly—

 

He woke up.

A sharp quiet gasp tore from his throat as he jolted upright, body drenched in cold sweat. His chair screeched against the floor as it tipped back slightly.

For a moment, he was somewhere else—then the familiar dim blue lights returned to focus.

Empty.

 

Only the hum of monitors, flickering screen, and the echo of silence.

 

His hand held to his chest, gripping his white fur like his heart was about to explode. His heart pounded in his hot ears.

That soft voice still echoed in his mind.

 

He staggered to his feet, unsteady, arms folding around himself in a feeble attempt at control. He felt so heavy, and his head was dizzy. The air felt too thick.

 

He needed to get out.

Out of this room.

Out of his head.

 

He made his way to the door. The doorknob was slightly blurry, but he managed to open it. He staggered forward to go to the bathroom. His legs felt heavy as he made his way through the dark hallway. For a moment, he was sure those red eyes would be waiting for him again. 

 

The hallway spun.

The walls seemed to bend, the world tilting beneath his feet—but somehow, he managed to get to the bathroom door. He could feel the cold tile floor on his bare feet. He made it. Shadow stumbled inside and gripped the sink like a lifeline, leaning on it like a crutch. He turns on the faucet and lets the cold water run. Lowering his head, he brought his mouth to the stream, letting the water flow past his lips. His dry throat welcomed the chill, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could breathe again.

 

Once he was done, he let out a slight sigh. He cupped his hands and filled them with the icy water and splashed it on his face twice, hoping the water could drain all his fears away.

 

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze towards the mirror. He meets the reflection that he refused to look at earlier. Drops of water trailed down his face, trailing down his muzzle like tears... 

But we all know better.

And he knows better.

 

He doesn’t cry.

Not anymore.

Chapter 2: I'm Still Here

Summary:

After waking from a terrifying nightmare, Shadow gets a call from Rouge. Rouge urges him to relax and go outside more. Tired out, Shadow steps into a quiet coffee shop and unexpectedly sees someone familiar.

“…I’m still here.”

The words fell from his mouth in a breath more than a whisper—
a fragile confession not meant for anyone else.

His voice barely broke the silence—
more of a thought spoken aloud than anything meant to be heard. It slipped out hoarse, fragile, almost drowned by the distant hum of the walls.

And somehow, that made it worse.

There was no comfort in hearing himself.
No strength in the sound.
Only a quiet reminder that he hadn’t disappeared, no matter how much of him had faded inside.

The cold bathroom lights above him buzzed faintly, their pale glow casting sickly reflections across the mirror and shadows on the walls.
He stood there, motionless, as water continued to drip from his face—slow, rhythmic, like a leaking faucet.
Drops of water traced the curve of his muzzle before falling into the sink below. Each drop echoed softly against the porcelain, filling the silence with something close to grief.

Then—

Beep beep.

There was a faint sound in the next room.

Shadow blinked, trying his best to snap out of his dazed state. He pushed himself away from the sink, the air thick and heavy around him as he staggered into the hallway—still dizzy from a faint panic attack.

By the time he reached his monitor, it was flashing—a video call from Rouge. A flurry of lines scrolled across the screen—messages from her, urgent and unrelenting. But he hadn’t answered a single one.

He hovered over the incoming transmission and pressed “Answer.”

Finally, Rouge's voice came through.

“After all this time, I thought you were dead,” she joked. The screen flickered, then stabilized, revealing her face clearly.

“Never mind. You already are—you look like hell,” she added bluntly.

Shadow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t respond.

“Either tell me what’s going on,” she warned, “or I’m hanging up.”

Shadow stared at her. “Talk.”

Rouge sighed. “Sorry, dear, it’s just been a long time since I’ve seen you in person. Honestly... you looked better than this the last time.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

She continued quickly. “Anyway, I don’t want to waste time. There’s been strange activity going on at my base. I don’t know how to explain it, but ever since I got that relic—remember? From our last mission…?”

Shadow’s attention sharpened. 

“I’ve been seeing unusual activity. At a specific time of night, my monitors and TV go haywire. And tonight, the energy signatures spiked. I started seeing weird symbols. I managed to grab a picture before it disappeared.”

She tapped something off-screen. Files appeared on Shadow’s monitor.

“I tried to analyze them, but they seem like nonsense. I don’t know what they mean yet. But I’ve got a few friends I can ask.”

Shadow leaned in, studying the distorted images. They were blurry, warped... and yet, some of the symbols looked familiar. They seemed to be repeated.

Do they mean something?

As he leaned closer, the symbols pulsed faintly—almost as if they were alive. He even asked himself if his vision was failing him.

His eyes narrowed. Then a sharp pain struck behind his eye. He flinched, a sudden throbbing blooming through the side of his head. He pressed a hand to his temple as his vision blurred completely for a split second.

“Shadow?” Rouge’s voice cut through the fog, sharp with concern. “Are you okay?...”

He straightened and forced his clenched jaw to relax. The pain subsided almost as fast as it had come.

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly.

Rouge eyed him carefully, sensing something was off. But she let it go, not wanting to make things worse.

She sighed, this time more softly. “Look... I just wanted to keep you updated. You've been distant lately from, well, everyone. And I know that is your thing, but I do get worried. Honestly, I’ve been a little bit more worried than usual.”

She hesitated, then added, “You’ve been acting odd ever since that day.”

Shadow opened his mouth to speak, but Rouge held up a hand.

“Don’t push yourself, okay?” she said with a small smile. “Go outside. Get some fresh air. And try to sleep—you look like you haven’t in weeks.”

Her tone was light, teasing—but her eyes stayed serious.

Shadow didn’t respond, only stared with that sharp, unreadable focus.

“Take care of yourself,” she added, tapping her communicator. “I’ll keep digging on my side. Contact me if you find anything else. You've got the files anyway.”

And with that, the call ended before he could say another word. The screen dimmed.

Silence returned.

He was left alone with the burning symbols on the monitor.

They pulsed in red, casting an eerie glow across the dark room.

The hum of the screen buzzed faintly, like static whispering just beneath hearing.

The air around him felt heavier now—dense, for some reason it would make his heart pulse.

It's as if these symbols lured him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the light changing. Through the living room window, soft golden rays had started to glide across the hallway floor. Dust drifted lazily in the beams, swirling in the still air.

Morning.

The warmth of the morning sun barely touched his skin, but it was enough to remind him that time hadn’t stopped—only he had.

He stared at the ceiling for a long while, the silence pressing down on him like weight. Every breath felt louder in the quiet. His body felt heavy, as if gravity itself was trying to hold him in place.

Rouge’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Don’t push yourself.”

He clenched his fists... then slowly let them fall.

Maybe she’s right , he told himself.

He needed to get out.

He rubbed his eyes, the soft, worn leather of his gloves brushing gently against his face. His vision blurred for a moment, colors bleeding at the edges. With a quiet breath, he stood up. 

The light from the window stretched across the floor, faint and golden—a silent invitation.

He didn’t feel ready.
But he moved anyway.

Prepared, as much as he ever could be, to face the morning.

He locked his apartment door, the faint creak of the door echoing down the empty hallway. He made his way down the stairs and reached towards the entrance and pushed open the door to the street, stepping into the chill of dawn.
The world outside was alive with morning sounds — distant birds, the rustle of leaves, the occasional hum of a passing vehicle.

But none of it reached him.

His steps were heavy, weighed down by a storm inside.

I feel terrible.

The words hovered in his mind, sharp and raw.

I’m tired.

Tired of this endless ache that gnaws at my chest, of the darkness that clings to my skin like a second shadow.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m drowning in a sea of nothingness.

He hated it all — the forced smiles, the meaningless conversations, the hollow promises.

After all that has been set and done in the past, he doesn’t care for it as much as he likes to, especially not after remembering who Maria was and what she means to him. He was disgusted by the world.

And most of all, disgusted by the morning —
The relentless reminder that time kept moving while he stayed stuck in his own pain.

Every glimpse of life—every car passing, every flickering shop light, every distant laugh—felt like a cruel reminder that the world kept moving without him.

He walked through the waking city not as a part of it, but as a ghost wandering a place he no longer belonged to. The sunlight stung his eyes, and the warmth on his skin felt invasive, unwelcome.

All of it only made the weight in his chest press harder, and his patience was growing thin.

He didn’t want to be here. Not another second.

He longed for the silence of his apartment. For the static hum of the monitors. For the fragile illusion of sleep was more alluring. Anything but this— this theater of life that demanded he play along.

The chill of dawn had seeped into his bones, and the storm inside him churned, leaving him feeling sluggish and heavy. He needed something to cut through the haze, a jolt to his system, even if it was just a temporary reprieve from the gnawing ache. His gaze drifted, almost subconsciously, until it landed on a small coffee shop on the corner. Its windows were fogged with warmth, a gentle beacon in the otherwise stark morning, and he could just make out the murmur of early patrons inside.

He hesitated, the thought of stepping into a place filled with people almost unbearable. But the need for coffee, for that simple, immediate hit, overruled his aversion. With a sigh that felt too loud even to himself, he pushed the door open.

The immediate rush of warmth was a stark contrast to the cold Ache buried deep inside him. The rich, earthy aroma of roasted beans and the low hum of conversation wrapped around him, a breath of peace. 

He took a slow breath, letting the external warmth try to thaw the internal chill. And then he saw her. Across the room, near the window, a cup held loosely in her hands...

  

Amy.

Chapter 3: A little cup of coffee

Shadow gave a slight glance towards Amy. He never understood why he was drawn to her since he didn’t even know much about her. He only ever saw her hanging out with others like Sonic or Tails This was actually the first time he had ever seen her alone. 

 

He quickly glanced away, making sure she didn’t notice him staring. Rubbing his eyes, still feeling very sleepy, he let out a soft yawn. He then lifts his view to the menu. 

 

He scanned the menu board, wondering what kind of coffee he should get. At this point, maybe he needed something stronger—otherwise, today was going to be a long one. If he could, he would’ve asked the barista to put fifty shots of espresso into his cup. As he placed his order, he stole one more glance at Amy. She was just fidgeting, flipping through a magazine in her hands.

 

Shadow gazed a bit longer.

 

For some reason, the sun's rays beaming through the café windows gave her a soft glow around her. It was warm and welcoming in a way that pulled at something inside him.

 

“Shadow!” the barista called loudly.

 

His daydreaming was abruptly interrupted. Amy slowly glanced up at him. He quickly turned away and stepped forward to get his coffee. As he grabbed the cup, he sensed it—caught it, even—through the reflection in the glass: Amy was waving at him.

 

It was too late now. She had noticed him.

 

Shadow stiffened immediately.

Slowly, he turned and pretended not to see her. Without a word, he chose the seat in the farthest corner of the café, one that was partially hidden by a support beam and some potted plants.

 He didn’t want to talk.
Why now? Why her? I can’t do this today. I don’t want to be seen… especially not by someone like her.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her magazine flutter shut. Her movement was quick and    light, but almost hesitant. Then—

Footsteps. Coming closer.

Is she coming towards him?..

He froze.

No, no, no...

His mind raced, scrambling for an exit. Maybe if he got up now and left, she wouldn’t follow. Maybe he could fake a call. Maybe…

 

“Shadow?” 

She said in her voice was soft voice curiously. Like she was unsure if she should even be calling his name.

He didn’t look at her. Amy’s words, though bright, only served to amplify the tension, a physical weight pressing down on his shoulders and making his limbs feel heavy. A faint tremor ran through his hand, causing the cup to clink softly against the saucer.

His fingers tightened slightly around the warm cup, trying to calm himself down. He was thinking about what to say to her meanwhile he felt his throat tighten, making it difficult to speak.

“I knew I recognized you!” Amy’s voice broke the silence and brightened the mood suddenly. “It’s been so long!”

 

Shadow blinked.

 

That… wasn’t what he expected.

 

She didn’t sound angry. She didn’t even notice that he hadn’t responded to her yet. She was surprisingly quite happy to see him even; he could hear it in her voice. That natural, sunny tone that hadn’t changed, not one bit.

It was too late now.

He still didn’t look up. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, as if to keep his cool and let the warmth settle against the tension in his throat. He had to admit to himself— not looking at her now would be completely awkward.

She’s a pink hedgehog. How can anyone ignore her...?

As he took a drink, he tried his best to think of something. He finished drinking, and slowly, reluctantly, he looked up.

 

And there she was.

Standing beside his table with her hands lightly clasped in front of her, wide eyes looking at him with kindness. No judgment in her eyes from not getting a response. Just a familiar softness in her expression that caught him off guard. It startled him.

 

For a moment, Shadow couldn’t speak. His mouth parted slightly, but nothing came out…he didn’t understand why. She looked... genuinely happy to see him. And for that reason, it confused him more than anything else.

 

Amy tilted her head slightly, still smiling.
“I was starting to think you left town or something like that,” she said with a light laugh. “I haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve been hiding for a long while, huh?”

Shadow hesitated. His mouth felt slightly dry. He grunted, trying to keep his composure. “…I wasn’t hiding,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze as he took another sip of coffee. “Just… busy..and trying to stay away from these annoying crowds”

Amy chuckled, not missing a beat.
“Mm, yeah… it can get a bit rowdy here sometimes,” she said playfully, then softened her tone. She leaned on the edge of the table a little.“But I wouldn’t really call myself a crowd, would you?” She gave him a cheesy grin.“Anyway… I’m really glad to see you again, Shadow. Really.”

Shadow’s eyes flicked up to her, just for a second. No one had said that to him in a long time. “…Why?” he asked quietly, almost under his breath. He didn’t mean to say it out loud. The word just slipped.

Amy tilted her head again, brows lifting slightly at the question.

“Why?” she echoed. “Because…why wouldn’t I be glad?”

Shadow's eyes widen at the answer.

He found himself staring at her with a soft look, because in that moment, he couldn’t help it.
After everything he has done in the past.

The things he’d done.

The choices he’d made.

The wreckage he left behind.

She was still smiling at him with kind eyes.

Without asking, Amy took the seat across from him, her hands folded in front of her. There was an ease to her that he found calming, like they’d known each other far longer than they had.

“I know you don’t really remember,” she said, interrupting the silence, her eyes dropping to the swirling coffee between them, “not everything, anyway. What happened that day...on the ark…”

She said with a smile, even though there was a hint of sadness when she said it. She looked back up, meeting his eyes. Her smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew warmer.

“But I do. And I just wanted you to know… I’m really glad you’re still here.”

Shadow’s throat tightened. He didn’t understand what she was talking about. 

 

He didn’t know what to say. He was uneasy for a second, trying to think what she meant by that. Amy is usually a bubbly person, you could see that a mile away, so hearing those words in that tone, for some reason he couldn’t explain, the tonal shift unsettled him more than if she’d come in loud and energetic. It is as if he should remember what happened that day between them.

He cleared his throat, the sound small and pathetic in the sudden stillness of the room and wished that he possessed the same easy confidence he usually had. Amy glanced out the nearby window, sunlight spilling across her face. The warmth made her fur shimmer like a halo. He took a second in, and the storm in his brain quieted, for now.

“Hey,” she said, her voice lightening up the mood. “There’s a little rooftop garden above this place. Not many people know about it.”

Shadow raised a brow, unsure why she was telling him this.

“I go up there sometimes to check out the view. Or just…take a breather.” She looked at him again, excited, this time with a small tilt of her head. “Would you like to come with me?”

He blinked twice.

It had been ages since anyone had asked him to go anywhere, especially not so suddenly. It was clear she wasn’t worried about his answer, yet she genuinely wanted to hear it. His mind, usually a whirlwind of imagined outcomes and practiced responses, stalled. The words caught in his throat. The quiet hope in her eyes felt foreign, like a light flickering through a long, dark tunnel. Part of him ached. The kindness in her voice felt too soft, too deliberate—like it didn’t belong to him. Did someone actually want to be around him?

“I…” He glanced away, unsure. “I don’t know if I’m...” 

The truth was, he wasn’t sure if he knew how to be anywhere anymore. He was so used to being alone now that the idea of stepping outside his routine—even for something as simple as a walk in a garden—felt like walking on thin ice.

He didn’t know if he was ready to be with someone. Especially with Amy.

“You don’t have to talk,” Amy said, cutting him off softly. “We can just sit. I think you are going to need more coffee, though.” Something in her voice made all those thoughts… less frightening.

He looked back at her, searching her face.

She had already stood, not pressuring him, just waiting. Giving him time to decide.

Shadow stared down at the cup in his hands. The steam had faded. It was lukewarm now.

He couldn’t help it—that quiet, pleading look on her face drew him in. For a moment, he hesitated. But the thought of air—fresh, green, quiet—sounded better than drowning in the noise inside his own mind.

He stood up.

“…Lead the way.”

Amy smiled, brighter this time, being glad that Shadow actually agreed. Amy takes his hand and guides him through the crowd, and goes to the very back of the cafe and hides away in the corner where a set of old wooden stairs. The stairs seemed like they led to nowhere, still they finally reached an old door. The door to the rooftop creaked open with a soft metallic groan.

A breeze greeted them immediately — crisp, gentle, carrying the scent of blossoms and fresh earth. Shadow stepped through and was pierced by the sudden soft light. The contrast was stark compared to the dim café below.

The rooftop was a quiet paradise, tucked high above the city’s morning noise. Cherry blossom trees stretched overhead, their pale pink petals swaying lazily in the wind. Yellow and red flowers bloomed along the edges of the garden, their colors vivid against the urban backdrop of the towering buildings. Nearby buildings loomed, some close enough to catch glimpses of flickering office lights inside. The soft rustling of petals and the distant hum of city life created a strange harmony. You couldn’t hear the cars or the bustle of the city, it was peaceful.

Amy walked ahead, humming quietly to herself, her steps light since she knew Shadow was taking in the view. She made her way to a wooden bench beneath one of the cherry trees. “So..do you like it?” she asked, glancing back as Shadow followed at a slower pace. He didn’t answer, instead watching the way blossoms tangled gently in her quills, how the sunlight touched her face, how this rooftop felt somehow untouched by the hustle and bustle of the city below. 

 

She sat on the bench and patted the seat next to her, and he sat beside her, trying his best not to sit too close. A petal drifted down and landed on his shoulder. He didn’t brush it off. Instead, he let it linger, carried gently by the breeze once more. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she chirped cheerfully, her voice carrying a warmth that pulled his eyes back toward her.

“This place always calms me down,” Amy said, tilting her face up to the light. “I used to come here all the time.”

Her fingers gently traced the edge of the bench, nails brushing lightly against the worn wood. She glanced down, then back up at him, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "I... uh,” she began, biting her lip softly. The breeze ruffled her quills, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms. “I guess it’s hard to find the right words sometimes.” The distant hum of the city mingled with the soft rustling of petals overhead, filling the quiet space between them.

“I know you probably don’t remember much... or maybe you do. I never really got the full story.” She looked at him, her voice lowering. “But I always wondered if you were okay, after all that happened.”

Shadow didn’t answer. His gaze never met hers, but she noticed the way his fingers curled tighter around the edge of the bench, gripping the bench. He was listening, but something inside him stopped him. Holding something back. She didn’t push any further.

Instead, she smiled gently and turned her eyes to the blossoms swaying above them. “I was scared for you,” she said in a sad tone. “You looked so lost back then. Angry. Confused. I guess… we all were, in our own ways.”

He listened. To her voice, to the wind, to the soft thudding of his own heart. "I mean… you were kind of terrifying,” she said with a small laugh, breaking the serious tone. “But I always felt like there was more to you than what everyone else saw.”

She nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Still do.”

Why is she talking to me like this? The question rang. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her words echoed in his mind — “I always felt like there was more to you…”

More to him?

He didn’t even know what was left of himself anymore. Whatever he used to be — a weapon, a hero, a monster — it all felt blurred now. Faded. He was always tired. Not just from the insomnia, not just from the endless nights staring at nothing, but from everything, everyone. People always drained him, irritated him. Their presence always left him numb. Like they were chiseling away at the little energy he had left.

But for some reason… she didn’t. Why is she staying? Why is she talking to me?

Why isn’t she leaving?

He risked another glance. She wasn’t looking at him — just sitting there, hands folded in her lap, staring up at the sky.

Why isn’t she leaving?

And that thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t deserve this. Her calm, her softness, her persistence. He should’ve pushed her away. Should’ve said something to make her leave, like he always did.

But he didn’t.

And more frightening still, why did part of him not want her to go?

Shadow’s gaze wandered to the skyline. A flock of birds passed overhead. He didn’t know how long it had been since he sat somewhere just to breathe. “I know what it’s like… to feel like you don’t belong. To wonder if you even belong anywhere.”

Her voice dropped to a murmur. “That’s why I kept hoping you were okay.” He didn’t know how to respond. Not because he didn’t want to — but because something inside him clenched too tightly to let anything out. His hands curled slightly against the bench

And then, with the kind of ease only she seemed to carry, her voice lifted again.

She started talking about the little things that made her smile. How Tails once tried to grow a sunflower on this roof, only for a sneaky pigeon to snatch the flower's seeds. How the city always surprised her with tiny moments of beauty. She laughed softly, saying sometimes she felt like she wasn’t doing enough with the free time that she had since her break from helping Sonic with the hero stuff, but then remembered the fun times they had trying to save the world.

He didn’t say much as she talked. A few nods here and there. The occasional flicker of his ear when she laughed. His gaze stayed forward most of the time, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky — but every now and then, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, just long enough.

Her presence used to feel like something he had to brace himself against. But now, it was something different.

Amy turned toward him again, making him lose his train of thought. “—But I’ve seen the way you fight!” she said, eyes bright with excitement. “Even when everything feels hopeless, you refuse to back down. No matter what, even when it feels like the whole world is against you… You don’t give up. You just keep fighting.” She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck; suddenly aware she’d been doing all the talking.

“Sorry, I was rambling again. Hahaha,” Amy said, a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” Shadow replied quietly, his voice steady. “I don’t mind.”

Her eyes widened a little, surprised by his gentle tone. A small, genuine smile tugged at her lips. “Oh, that’s good to hear. I was afraid you’d get tired of me and leave.” She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I know I can be annoying sometimes…” She teased “I am glad you still stayed.”

Shadow’s gaze softened as he looked at her.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I decided to stay,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was still figuring it out himself. His eyes lingered on the horizon

His gaze shifted, meeting hers for just a second. Amy smiled, then shrugged lightly. “Maybe some part of you wanted to.” They sat there, beneath the cherry blossoms, surrounded by red and yellow flowers and city winds.

For once, Shadow didn’t feel like he needed to run.

After a while of talking, the sentences became words, and words finally became silence. 

For a while, silence lingered between them. Time passed, but neither of them moved. Shadow didn’t know how long they sat like that, but he didn’t care. Time wasn’t something he feared in that moment. Not with her beside him.

For once, it didn’t feel like he was wasting it.

In a moment’s pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and a little rough. “It’s peaceful up here.”

Amy smiled. “It is. That’s why I like coming here. It feels like the world is slower…”

Shadow looked down at his gloves, fingers curling slightly. “I’m not used to that.”

Amy watched him quietly. She didn’t interrupt.

He hesitated again, then added — voice softer than before — “I haven’t really… felt calm in a long time.”

Amy turned her body slightly to face him more. 

Amy let the pause settle again before glancing out at the blooms. “You know… all these flowers have meanings. Well, at least according to the books I read.”

Shadow raised a brow faintly. “Meanings?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded, smiling. “Red camellias mean ‘love’ or ‘passion.’ Yellow chrysanthemums can mean hope or friendship.” She scanned the rooftop with a look of affection before turning back. “You know what flower always makes me think of you?”

Shadow gave her a sideways look, mildly suspicious.

“Forget me nots,” said with a grin. He blinked. “Why?”

“Well,” Amy hummed, brushing her hair back as petals drifted past, “everyone thinks the most important flowers are the roses or lilies but it's the tiny flowers that make a garden.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement slipping through his usual stoic expression. Then, as a quiet yawn escaped him, the weight of exhaustion finally started to show. 

Amy noticed and thought for a second. “You know…” she began, tilting her head, “Talking about flowers, did you know lavender helps with sleep.”

Shadow looked at her with the faintest trace of disbelief. “Really?” Amy beamed. “Yep! Makes for great tea too.” she said, lightly tapping her finger on the bench. “It’s supposed to help people rest. I used to take some before bed, it always helped me calm down.” He looked away for a moment, toward the blossoms.

“…Maybe I should try that,” he muttered, barely audible.

Amy turned her head, surprised. “You want me to bring you some?”

There was a pause. Then, a small shrug. “Maybe.”

Amy grinned at him and nodded. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no. “Then I will.”

And just like that, in the silence between the flower and towering buildings, something fragile began to form between them.

Amy leaned back on the bench, her arms resting behind her. She noticed the cup of coffee he was still holding in his hands. “You know,” she began, a playful edge to her voice, “you can put lavender in your coffee as well.”

Shadow’s ear twitched slightly, and he turned his head just enough to glance at her.

Shadow raised an eyebrow. “Lavender… in coffee?” For some reason he imagined a bush of lavender being shoved down a cup.

Amy grinned. “Seriously! The lavender latte tastes good.”

He gave her a long look, then finally took a small sip of the coffee he’d been holding. “…I’ll think about it.”

The gentle quiet lingered between them, the soft rustling of cherry blossoms and distant city sounds wrapping around their little rooftop sanctuary. 

Suddenly, Amy’s phone buzzed sharply against the bench. She glanced down, her smile fading as she read the message.

“Oh no…” she murmured, a slight edge of worry creeping into her voice. Shadow looked at her, noticing the sudden change. “I… I’m late,” Amy said, standing up quickly and brushing petals off her skirt. “Tails and Sonic were supposed to meet me a while ago. I lost track of time.”

She gave Shadow an apologetic look. “Sorry, Shadow. I didn’t mean to cut this short. I really wished to spend more time with you.”

Shadow nodded silently.

Amy took a small step closer and smiled softly, “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

And with a final wave, she turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving Shadow alone with the fading petals and the quiet hum of the city.

Shadow remained seated on the bench long after Amy had gone, his coffee cooling in his hand. For a split second, Shadow could feel a slight grin on his face.

 

The rooftop felt emptier now, the absence of her voice amplifying the distant sounds of the city below. A breeze rustled the blossoms overhead, a few petals drifting down like quiet echoes of the conversation they’d shared.

 

He hadn’t expected her to talk to him, well, everything inside him was glad that she did. He exhaled through his nose — not quite a laugh, but something near it. Maybe just once, he could try something different.

 

He stood, stretched slightly, and made his way down the stairs, back into the city streets. The sun was higher now, the light casting long shadows between buildings, but he didn’t feel as weighed down as he had earlier.

 

He wandered through the city, still thinking about his morning. After some time, his eyes caught a small corner store tucked between two larger buildings. It had soft pink signage and a window display of herbs and loose leaf teas.

 

He passed by the window and thought to himself for a second.

 

“…Lavender,” he muttered under his breath. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he stepped inside.

 

The shop was quiet, steeped in the gentle scent of dried herbs and polished wood. Light filtered through the windows in soft, golden shafts, catching on dust motes that floated lazily in the still air. Shelves lined the walls, packed with glass jars of tea leaves, spices, and dried flowers. The faint creak of the floorboards echoed beneath his boots as he stepped inside.

 

 An elderly fox behind the counter glanced up from a handwritten ledger and gave him a polite nod, saying nothing, just a quiet welcome. Shadow returned the gesture with a slight returning nod and moved deeper into the shop. For a second he thought he was not going to find it until he came across a small tin, labeled in soft script: Lavender Tea.

 

Curious, he cracked the lid open just slightly. The scent itself wrapped around him, bringing a wave calmness. The lavender curled through his senses, pushing back the static in his head. For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing it in. After a few sniffs he decided to pay for it.

 

And for the first time in a long while, he thought — maybe tonight he will actually get some sleep.

 

After some time passed, Shadow made his way through the city in the late evening. The sky had deepened to a deep navy, streaked with hints of lavender and gold where the sun had recently dipped below the horizon. Streetlights buzzed to life one by one, casting long, soft pools of light onto the pavement. The bustling noise of the day replaced by the hush of tired footsteps, distant chatter, and the occasional car slipping through the streets.

 

The city had quieted by the time he made it back to his apartment.

 

The old building stood tucked between taller new ones, it was modest and dimly lit, its red brick walls tinged orange by the nearest lamp post. He stepped inside without a sound, climbing the metal stairwell.

 

He stood in front of the door for a moment, the tin of lavender tea still gripped loosely in his hand. The hallway was dim, lit only by a flickering overhead bulb that buzzed faintly, like a distant hum of static. It was as if the building itself was pulling him back into his old ways.

 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

The familiar cold greeted him, a silence that wrapped around the walls like vines. The monitor and wires lined one wall, casting a soft, flickering blue glow that illuminated the otherwise dark space. On the coffee table, scattered papers and half-open files lay untouched, the remnants of half-finished research or forgotten missions. The light from the monitors painted shadows across the floor, pulsing like quiet heartbeats in the stillness.

 

Inside, everything was exactly as he’d left it. Quiet. Cold. Sterile.

 

He didn’t bother turning on the main lights. Instead, he made his way through the small hallway and into the kitchen. He set the small tin of lavender tea down on the kitchen counter with more care than usual as though it was medicine. The soft scent had lingered in his gloves from earlier, and it now drifted faintly into the air. The floral scent reminded him of early that morning.

 

He walked to the sink and rinsed one of the mugs out, a simple black one. He reached for the kettle and filled it, setting it down on the stovetop with a soft clink. The gas hissed to life with a spark, and the blue flame flickered to life beneath the metal.

The apartment was still, save for the low hum of the monitors and the gentle ticking of the stove as it began to warm. 

He didn’t move for a moment. Just stood there.

His eyes dropped to the tin on the counter. He opened it carefully. Inside, the dried lavender mixed with soft curls of tea leaves. The scent deepened, floral and earthy brought his senses alive again.

 

It reminded him of her.

 

He selected a tea bag and placed it into the clean mug, setting it gently in place. He stared at nothing for a moment, thoughts drifting through his mind and slowly formed to daydreams. When the kettle finally whistled, it interrupted his thoughts

He moved without a word, turning off the burner and pouring the hot water into the mug. The soft steam rose, carrying the scent of lavender with it. The warmth seeped into his hands slowly.

 

He stared at the tea for a long moment.

Then took a sip.

 

Warmth settled on his tongue, floral and faintly sweet, like the memory of something soft. The tension in his shoulders eased, almost imperceptibly, and for once, he didn’t fight it. The taste lingered. He felt a calm he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.

“…Hmph.” A sound barely more than breath.

 

Shadow closed his eyes for a second.

 

His eyes were heavier than they’d been in months. He moved slowly toward the couch, shoes barely making a sound against the floor. His muscles ached. An ache that lived in his bones. He eased down onto the cushions, letting out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold. His head tilted back against the armrest. He stared at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, letting the quiet wrap around him. A stillness bloomed inside his chest, his breath slowed. He didn’t fight it.

 

And as the last edge of consciousness slipped away from him, Shadow let it.

 

And then…

 

He opened his eyes.

 

The soft hum of the monitors grew louder, making him wake up. The monitor flickered erratically in the corner. Its glow was only light in the room. The static blinked irregularly spasms and bursts that stung his tired eyes. After a while, the broken footage settled. Shadow sat up slowly, frowning.

 

The footage on the screen was unfamiliar at first. Angled from above.

Then he recognized it.

His apartment.

 He stepped closer, drawn to the screen. Something about it made his blood run cold. He could see his couch in the frame… the cluttered table nearby… and there

 

Himself.

Still sleeping.

Still lying where he'd just been.

He stared. Time seemed to stop.

And then…

 

He panned his view to the other side of the screen.

He saw a tall, dark figure standing right in front of him. Its presence was so silent, so absolute, it made the hairs on his neck stand on end. 

 

It didn’t move.

Not until its head tilted, slowly, toward the monitor.

Toward him.

It knew that Shadow was watching. 

 

Shadow’s stomach dropped. His breath caught. He backed away so fast his heel hit the table, almost sending him to the floor.

 

He turned toward the door. His balance faltered for just a second, like the floor was tilting beneath him.

He threw it open—

And froze.

There was no hallway.

“What…?”

He was standing on the edge of a rooftop.

 

The drop below was endless. A city skyline stretched out beneath him, dizzying in scale, lit by a thousand blinking lights that shimmered like stars caught in static. Wind tore past him, cold and sharp, biting into his skin like needles. His shoes scraped against the rooftop ledge as his balance faltered. One misstep, and gravity would’ve done the rest. He stumbled back, his heart was like a hummingbird, but the doorway behind him was already gone. 

He turned, scanning the rooftop, and paused.

In the reflection of a nearby skyscraper’s glass, something moved..

Someone…

was walking toward him from behind. 

 

His hand twitched, instinctively reaching for a weapon he didn’t have. His breath was shallow, misting in the cold air. The silence around him was loud and deafening. 

He stood there, frozen. The wind screamed around him like a warning, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He would feel it behind him.

Shadow’s fists clenched.
He turned, ready to punch. Shadow froze. His breath snagged halfway through his throat.

It was like staring into a mirror..

Before Shadow could punch, before he could even move, it stepped forward and struck him. Like a bullet to the chest, the air tore out of his lungs as the impact threw him off balance.

And then there was nothing beneath him.

The city lights spun above him like fractured stars. There was nothing around him to hold onto to stop him from falling.

Shadow’s heart leapt into his throat as he fell, wind tore at his body, howling in his ears.

In the next moment—

Shadow gasped sharply, a harsh cough tearing from his lungs as he clawed at the air, desperate for oxygen. His eyes snapped open, the world rushing back in.

 

His body was pressed against the cold concrete of the sidewalk. The rough grit bit into his skin. His cheek scraped against the pavement, leaving a stinging, burning trail. Sharp pain exploded through him, every nerve firing in shock. Disoriented, Shadow’s mind scrambled to make sense of what had just happened. 

 

His limbs trembled uncontrollably as he forced himself up, driven by a raw desperation. The weight of the moment was crashing down on him. His heart still pounded in his chest. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, shallow, panicked gasps that barely filled his lungs.

 

Dizziness spun in his vision, blurring the edges of the cityscape around him. The city noises around him felt distant. Faint murmurs of curious passersby, the hum of cars, and the wailing sirens were filtered through like echoes. Despite the cold night air brushing his skin, a cold sweat clung to his forehead and palms, betraying the turmoil roiling inside him.

He blinked, struggling to focus.

Then—
A faint glow.

Shadow turned, blinking through the blur and the ringing in his ears.

His eyes followed the rising column. 

 

Smoke.

It rose in slow spirals into the night sky, catching the city lights and painting the air in a haze of orange and gray. The sharp scent of burning caught him, cutting through the leftover static in his mind. The scent of smoke clung to his fur, gripping him.

 

He turned, eyes wide, to see smoke rising into the night sky.

 

Flames spread around the top floors, bursting from broken windows. Glass burst in harsh pops as the concrete was filled with glass and burnt papers. For a moment, Shadow couldn’t move. He just stared at the crowd in front of him.

 

A crowd had already gathered across the street, kept back by police tape and barriers. People were murmuring, some holding up phones to film, their faces lit by the flicker of red and blue emergency lights. Sirens howled in the distance, growing closer by the second.

Muffled voices drifted through the crowd, blurred by the ringing in his ears and the rush of blood in his head.

“…I heard it was an explosion,” one said. “You think it was a gas stove?” another stated with a worried voice.

Shadow could barely make out the words, but they still cut through the fog in his mind.

An explosion?

His eyes widened slightly, the confusion sinking in like ice in his chest.
No… that didn’t make sense.

His hands trembled as he looked back at the burning building.

He had made tea.
Turned the stove off.
He was sure of it—wasn’t he?.. Wasn’t he?

The more he tried to remember, tried to force the memory back, the more his thoughts unraveled. Shadow’s brows furrowed, his breath catching. I don’t forget things. I don’t make mistakes. But the thought didn’t stick. Doubt crept in—slow and corrosive. A sick twist curled in his gut. He clenched his fists, trying to shake it off, but the question kept echoing: 

But what if I did?

Shadow stared at nothing. The more he searched for certainty, the more his certainty crumbled. And in its place, self-doubt bloomed like rot. His chest rose and fell with sharp, erratic breaths. 

You were careless.

You let it happen.

You keep hurting people.

His breathing hitched. He grabbed his head, pressing his fingers into his temples as if he could dig the truth out by force. But there was only static, and a pit growing wider in his chest. Above the noise, above the chaos and confusion, a single feeling gnawed at the edges of his mind. Something had been watching.

And it was smiling .

Ashes drifted down like black snow, soft and weightless. They clung to his gloves, dusted the lengths of his arms, and settled gently into the singed tips of his quills. Shadow looked down at himself, coated in soot, his chest rising and falling with uneven, labored breaths. His gloves, his old, worn gloves, were blackened nearly beyond recognition. The seams were scorched, the fabric cracked and brittle from the heat. He flexed his fingers, and flakes of ash crumbled away. It was like watching pieces of himself fall off.

His ears rang from the distant shouting, from the sirens, from the roar of the flames devouring everything he'd touched. His mind had gone quiet, hollow. Numb.

Then, through the crackling air and buzz of chaos, a voice pierced through—familiar and unmistakably real.

"Shadow?!"

His head lifted slightly.

Amy.

Her voice cut through the haze like a beacon, trembling with disbelief and fear.

She was the first to spot him, crouched near the edge of the sidewalk, his silhouette barely a shape in the smoky ruin. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught. She broke into a run, her boots hitting the pavement hard, panic rising in her throat.

"Amy, wait!" someone behind her called, but she didn’t stop. Shadow didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Because deep in the pit of his chest, where warmth should have bloomed at the sound of her voice, there was only dread. He couldn’t trust that she was there.

 

“Shadow! Oh my gosh—are you alright? Are you hurt?!”

Amy’s voice cracked with panic as she dropped to her knees beside him without hesitation. The pavement scraped her legs, but she didn’t notice; her focus was locked on him. Tails and Sonic followed just steps behind, their eyes wide and stunned. Tails had his communicator already halfway raised, scanning for any signs of trauma, his brows furrowed in concern. “Vitals are off,” he muttered into his communicator. “Heart rate spiked. Maybe smoke inhalation—possible shock.” Sonic crouched on Shadow’s other side. His expression was serious, and behind the concern in his eyes, there was something else—a flicker of relief that he was still in one piece?

“You’re lucky we found you,” Sonic said quietly. “We didn’t know what happened until we saw the fire from a few blocks out.” Shadow didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on the flames eating away at what was left of his apartment. Amy noticed Shadow was not reacting. Shadow blinked up at her, his vision blurry, the edges of her form shimmering against the backdrop orange glow.

Her hands hovered close to his shoulders, unsure whether touching him would help or make it worse. He looked like a ghost of himself—covered in soot, quills darkened and frayed at the edges, his face pale beneath the ash.

“We saw the smoke and the crowd… I didn’t think—” Her voice faltered. “It’s your apartment, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, as if the motion took too much effort. His throat felt raw, words heavy like lead. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the tremble in his fingers, the way his gloved hands wouldn’t unclench. She saw the state of him, coated in ash, his hands coerced in soot, and something far worse lingering in his expression: a distant, hollowed-out grief. Like he wasn’t entirely there.

“Shadow,” she whispered, her voice gentling, “what happened to you?”

He still didn’t answer. The question hung in the air like the smoke around them: heavy, choking, inescapable. His mouth opened, but nothing came. Only a broken, rasped breath.

He couldn’t tell her what he was thinking.

That he had seen something, something wearing his face, push him off a building.

That he had felt the wind tear through him as he fell, the concrete rushing up to meet him, only to wake up gasping, alive.

He couldn’t tell her that maybe none of it was real.

That crawling behind his thoughts, he couldn’t trust himself. Not anymore. 

All he could do was sit there, hunched and silent, and wonder if the nightmare had ever ended at all. Shadow sat in stunned silence, breath shallow, the tremble in his limbs refusing to stop. Amy’s gaze softened as she watched him unravel behind his unreadable eyes. She just moved a little closer and, without hesitation, placed her hand gently on his shoulder, leaning on him. Her hand. It was warm. Real. And in that single, grounding touch, something inside him let him breathe. “Amy” 

She gave a shaky smile, her lips trembling, her eyes shimmering on the verge of tears. Relief trembled in her chest like a shaken glass as she looked at him.

“I don’t… understand,” Shadow finally rasped, his voice low and hoarse. 

 “I remember the stove.”

“Shadow—”

“I turned it off. I made tea,” he continued, eyes unfocused, as if trying to claw the memory out from the fog. “I sat down. And then…”

His voice cracked, trailing off. He stared at his hands, at the soot-blackened gloves

“Shadow,” Amy cut in, getting in front of his view. Her voice was gentle, but firm enough to hold him together.  She placed her hands on his shoulders. “That’s enough. You don’t have to explain everything right now.” Amy placed her hands on his shoulders. Shadow’s breaths were still shallow, his shoulders tense like coiled springs.

“Hey,” Sonic’s voice came from just behind Amy, softer than usual. Shadow looked up at him. Sonic’s blue quills were dusted in ash. For a second, Shadow braced himself for his usual cocky confidence, expecting a jab or some half-hearted remark to deflect the tension..

Sonic stepped closer, kneeling beside him. “You’re okay, man. Whatever happened… It’s over. You’re here. That’s what matters.” There was a flicker of something in Sonic’s eyes, he was worried for him. “Breathe with me, alright?” Sonic said, lowering his voice. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, deliberately. “In… out…”, Shadow hesitated. The world still felt like it was spinning beneath him, but the rhythm of Sonic’s breathing was grounding, And Amy’s hand, still holding his, hadn’t left him. He was so tired.

So he breathed in.

Out.

The tremble in his hands began to dull. Amy stayed close, her hand resting gently on his. And with every breath, the shaking began to lessen, just a little. He closed his eyes, every breath he managed felt like dragging air through fractured glass, swallowing hard, fighting to keep the edges of his composure from crumbling completely.

He was still here.

Still breathing.

And for now, that was enough.

The quiet stretched between them, broken only by the distant crackle of fire and the occasional murmur of the crowd. Shadow sat in the silence, smoke-stained and spent, rubbing his hands as the cold crept in, curling around his ankles and soaking into the fabric of his clothes. Without the buffer of adrenaline, he could feel the cold night chill now. It reminded him he was alive.

Amy looked at him and saw the way his shoulders sagged beneath an invisible weight, burdened by unseen sorrows. His eyes, rimmed with dark shadows, held a dull, distant glow—a mirror to exhaustion etched deep into his face. She could almost feel the heavy pressure pressing on his chest, a weight so tangible it made her heart ache

Amy let out a soft shiver and rubbed her arms, exaggerating it just enough to seem believable. “Brr… Geez,” she said, trembling, her tone light but laced with quiet concern. “It’s freezing out here.” She glanced at Shadow, watching the way he stared off into nothing. She sighed, noticing he didn’t look at her. “Hey, shadow.”  For a second, she thought he was ignoring her till he looked up at her slowly. 

“Let’s get you off these streets,” she added, her voice trembling just a little, fear that he might want to fix this himself, and from the sheer ache of seeing him like this. “You don’t have to stay here.” Amy smiled faintly, playing up her own discomfort so he wouldn’t feel like a burden. “If you want to… you can stay with me. I don’t have a spare room or anything fancy,” she said, brushing a bit of soot from her dress, “but I do have a comfy couch, a heater that works, and a bunch of fuzzy blankets and pillows I never use.” His face was unreadable for a moment, then softened slightly. 

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “I won’t bother you. It will be like I am not even there. You wouldn’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Just…” There was silence between them. Then Shadow finally spoke, voice low and gravelly. 

 

“You’re pretending.”

Amy blinked. “W-what?”

“You’re not cold.”

Caught, she laughed softly and rubbed her arms again anyway. “Okay… maybe I am not that cold,” she admitted, her smile turning sheepish. “But I figured if I made it about me, it’d be easier for you to say yes, so..”

 

Shadow stared at her. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, she noticed something subtle, but unmistakable.

Was that… a grin?

“…You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”

Amy huffed playfully. “Yeah,” Amy said, her smile returning. “But it still worked, right?”

Amy smiled, relieved, quietly overjoyed, just to see the edge of his walls crack even a little. For the first time all night, she saw a flicker of the Shadow she remembered.

 

Shadow took one last look at the scorched remains of what he had called home. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. A clue, any answer that can calm down his running thoughts, questions, and doubts. "Shadow?” Amy’s voice reached him. He sighed, low and steady, as if trying to push the weight of it all out of his lungs.

“Don’t worry,” he said finally. “I’m okay.”

It wasn’t the truth, not really. But if it calmed everyone down for now, it was enough for him.

His eyes kept drifting back behind them as they walked, the image of falling clung to Shadow like a bad dream, was it a dream? Amy stayed close by his side, Sonic and Tails just ahead, speaking between themselves. But Shadow heard none of it. His mind was still back there, in the flickering ruin of his home. Amy murmured something soft beside him, but Shadow didn’t catch it either. He felt her steady presence anchoring him, and that was enough to keep him from looking into it further.

 

Tails walked with his arms tucked in for warmth, occasionally glancing at the others but saying little.

And Sonic—Sonic kept agreeing with Tails, but every so often, his ears would twitch. He’d glance sideways at an alley. Or up at a rooftop. Just for a second.

“Long night, huh?” Sonic said lightly over his shoulder, casting a glance back at the group. His tone was breezy, like he was trying to lift the mood. “Could really go for some chili dogs right about now.”

 

Amy raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes, too tired to roll her eyes. “Seriously, Sonic?”

 

“What? Stress-eating’s a thing,” he shrugged.

 

Beneath his mellow exterior, Sonic knew something wasn't right. He saw that Shadow's explanations and reactions were not adding up. He was not himself. This unshaken feeling was crawling down his spine, and Sonic could sense it too. But for now, he kept the grin on his face, kept his stride.

 

The ruined apartment fell out of sight, engulfed by the dark, Shadow looked back one last time.

And for the briefest moment, he caught it in the corner of his eye—

He could’ve sworn…

something else looked back.

Notes:

Hey guys,
Just wanted to say thanks for being patient with me. I know I don’t post consistently, but I really appreciate you sticking around. Thanks for all the support—it means a lot!

Chapter 4: The Smell of Burnt Gloves

Summary:

What begins as a peaceful night at Amy’s slowly unravels as Shadow is pulled into something far more unsettling.

The door creaked open with a soft groan as Amy stepped into her home, the warm light from inside spilling out into the fading dusk. Shadow followed silently behind her, his figure still cloaked in soot and quiet disbelief. Tails hovered a little closer, offering subtle glances of concern, while Sonic lingered near the doorway, one hand resting against the frame.

 

Amy moved ahead, setting her keys on a small tray near the entrance.

"Come in," she said gently, turning to the others. "You can all come in."

 

Shadow hesitated for only a moment before stepping over the threshold. The inside of Amy’s house was peaceful, filled with soft pastels and gentle scents. There were flowers on the windowsills and little knick-knacks on shelves, a cozy contrast to the sharp, chaotic images still flickering at the edge of his mind.

 

Sonic walked in behind him, glancing around, arms behind his neck. Sonic's gaze narrowed slightly as he took in the quiet stiffness in Shadow’s image. His eyes lingered on the black under Shadow’s eyes, the way his shoulders never quite relaxed. He didn't want to say anything yet, maybe he wanted to not embarrass him? He knows Shadow is a perfectionist, and right now at his lowest point, it would be cruel to ask. Sonic knew that something was up, and he didn't like it.

 

"Didn’t know you kept the place this neat," he muttered, trying to lighten the mood. "Could’ve sworn last time I was here, the couch had like what…10 balls of yarn because you were trying to figure out how to knit."

 

Amy gave a small pout. "I know how to knit..I’ve just been decluttering, is all." She waved at Shadow to get his attention. “Shadow, I think I have extra blankets somewhere. you go ahead and make yourself at home. I'm going to go search for those blankets and pillows. Okay?” and with that, she quickly went to the other room.

 

Shadow glanced around curiously. Meanwhile, Sonic lies down on the couch. “Oh yeah, you will definitely be sleeping comfortably here.” Tails smiles. “Yeah, Amy has a nice home, Sonic crashes here all the time.” Sonic opens one of his eyes as if to tell tails to stop talking. Tails blushes slightly and scratches his cheek. “She always tries to help her friends.” Tails said in a gleeful tone. He noticed that Shadow didn't move from the same spot close to the entrance. 

 

 “I'm sorry about your house shadow. Hopefully, they clean everything soon so you can have your apartment back. I keep wondering what caused the fire.” He thought to himself. Shadow sighed. “Yeah, how did it get on fire?. Did you hear anything about it?” Sonic asked him if Tails caught him, “not that you need to answer…” 

 

Shadow crossed his arms and looked into the distance. “I am not sure.” He noticed Sonic walking towards him.  He looked up at Shadow. "Are you okay? Like… really, okay?"

 

 Shadow didn't answer. His eyes flicked from the clean floor to the soft cushions on the couch, then to a framed picture of Amy with her friends, all of them smiling.

 

"Yeah..," he lied quietly.

 

Sonic sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We just wanted to make sure you got here alright. After everything…" he smirks to himself. “Not that you need it, mostly I worried for Amy.” Shadow gives him the side eye.

 

Tails nods, agreeing with Sonic. “Yeah, hopefully they find something that can help us figure out what set that fire. Let's hope they find the guy who caused this mess.”

 

Amy stepped in again with a bunch of blankets and pillows stacked. "Found them!" She grinned as she set them on the loveseat. “I know it's not much, but I promise you, you're going to sleep well tonight.” She grinned as she patted the couch.

 

Shadow nodded once, slowly, and moved to the couch, his steps heavy. He sat down with a stiffness that betrayed his exhaustion. He said and plopped his head face down on the cushion. Sonic yawned loudly, getting everyone's attention. “I think this guy has the right idea, it's getting late.” Tails watched Shadow peek slightly to the side before giving Amy a small wave. 

 

"If you need anything, Amy... Sonic and I are a call away," he said, voice soft. "You guys have a good night." He grinned.

 

Sonic turned towards Shadow, adding with a faint smirk, “Don’t burn this one down, alright?”

Amy shot him a look, and Sonic raised his hands in mock surrender. “Kidding. Mostly,” he grinned to himself as he stretched and made his way to the door. 

 

They left soon after, the door clicking shut behind them.

 

And then it was quiet again.

 

Amy turned toward Shadow, who now sat up with his hands resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

 

"You want some water?" she asked gently. "Or…"

 

 She noticed that he wasn't listening. He was quite focused on replaying the events that happened. He wanted to make it make sense. He wanted to understand if it was a dream or was it real. His thoughts got interrupted by a small, “Hey, Shadow..” He looked up at Amy, who was now right in front of him, holding one of his hands. “If you like I have a guest bathroom you can go ahead and clean up after yourself. I know that you do not want to sleep in soot.” She teased. “I can go ahead and clean these gloves for you.”

 

Shadow blinked, momentarily unsure how to respond. Her fingers around his gloved hand were small and warm. His instincts screamed at him to pull away. To retreat. But he didn’t.

 

“…Thanks,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended.

 

Amy gave him a soft nod and a quick smile before slipping the worn gloves from his hands with surprising care. She held them delicately, as if they were something fragile, not scorched leather soaked in ash and memory. “I’ll take good care of them,” she promised, then turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the laundry.

 

Shadow sat there, curled his fingers in reflex, as though trying to find the shape of the gloves in muscle memory alone. The cool air of the room brushed against his skin, making him slightly flinch. Without the familiar barrier of leather between him and the world, he felt sensitive. His fingers moved with a slow, uncertain rhythm, as though even they didn’t know what to do with themselves now that they weren’t encased in that familiar, worn second skin.

 

He stared down at his palms, calloused and marked from years of fighting. The gloves had always been more than protection. The snug fit, the way the leather had molded to him over time—it had become a part of him. His hands not just felt colder without the gloves, they felt exposed. Then he remembered Amy's hands on his. He lowered his head and exhaled through his nose, slow and uneven. 

 

Why am I feeling like this?

 

He stood up slowly, the stiffness in his joints more noticeable now that the adrenaline had worn off. A strange chill crept up his arms despite the warmth of the house. He started to think about what happened in the apartment. Every step toward the guest bathroom, he could feel an unease. Like he might wake up any second and find himself back on the sidewalk.

 

Shadow moved towards the hallway where Amy gestured earlier. The bathroom door was slightly ajar—warm light spilling out like a soft invitation. He pushed it open and stepped inside, the quiet click of the door behind him sounding louder than expected.

The room was small but clean. Calming. A faint scent of peony hung in the air. There was a mirror above the sink, and the tiled floor was cool beneath his steps. A folded towel waited for him on the counter. Beside it, a small bottle of soap. Amy’s touch was everywhere.

He met his own gaze in the mirror—and froze.

 

The reflection that stared back barely felt like his own. The soot clung to his fur in uneven patches, muting the vivid red of his stripes into something closer to bruises. He had a cut near his brow. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, darker than he remembered. He looked so worn, and it had finally begun to show.

 

Slowly, Shadow raised one of his bare hands and touched his reflection, fingertips hovering just over the glass.

His throat tightened.

He turned on the faucet, watching the water swirl down the drain. The sound filled the silence like white noise in his head. He dipped his hands beneath the boiling stream, making him feel a slight pain but slowly started to feel soothing and warm. He watched as the black water slid down the sink and into the drain. He was mesmerized. Like he was watching the proof of everything he’d endured wash away. If only it were that simple.

He leaned over the sink, letting the water run over his wrists for a few seconds longer, letting the heat melt away his worries.

He was so tempted that he took a look at the shower. Amy told him he could use the shower if he liked, right? He turned the sink faucet off and let the water run from the showerhead. He waited till the water turned to boiling water that no one would dare go into, but he was craving something to relax him, so he took the chance. Steam filled the air of the tiny bathroom. Shadow closed his eyes and stepped in. He sighed at the relief of the water hitting his head like it was the water itself stroking his head. 

 

The steam curled around him as he leaned under the showerhead, splashing his face once, twice, again. It felt like peeling off a layer of stress. He stayed there, palms pressed flat against the cool porcelain wall, the water cascading around his shoulders in a rhythmic hiss. His chest rose and fell. 

breathing.

Just breathing.

After what felt like an hour he finally shut it off, reaching for the towel with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric was soft, far softer than anything he was used to, and it made something ache deep in his chest. He felt a lot lighter now but dangerously unsteady. The high heat still pulsed at the base of his skull, fogging the edges of his vision. His legs trembled faintly beneath him. For a second, he thought he might collapse

He sat down on the closed toilet lid, pulling the towel tighter around himself, still damp. He stared at his feet. Only the quiet hum of the bathroom fan, and he kept remembering Amy’s voice in his mind.

 

"I’m really glad you’re still here."

 

He didn’t know what to do with that kind of kindness.

It rattled something in him. She wasn’t asking for anything in return. She wasn’t ordering him around or expecting something. And maybe that’s what confused him most.

It was the first time in what felt like forever that he could breathe without panic creeping up his spine. His mind, worn down from nightmares, from hearing Maria’s voice in the dark, from always watching his back—even in places that were supposed to be safe—didn’t know what to do with this feeling.

Someone cared.

He didn’t understand it. It felt strange, He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something, so badly. He was overwhelmed by a sudden, fierce longing, the likes of which he hadn't felt in ages. It was both painful and comforting. The desire was a burning ache deep within his chest, a relentless pull that twisted and tightened with every breath. It gnawed at him quietly but insistently, refusing to be silenced or pushed away.

 

It wasn’t much. Just a little kindness.

But it meant more than he could say.

 

The question hovered just beyond his reach—too fragile to grasp, yet too persistent to ignore.

He didn’t know. Not yet.

But the ache in his chest, the quiet craving that stirred something long buried, whispered that maybe… just maybe…

There was a soft knock at the door.

 

Shadow blinked, pulled from the weight of his thoughts. The steam still clung to the air, swirling in gentle clouds around him. The mirror was clouded over now, just as hazy as his mind. He sat a little straighter, clutching the towel around his shoulders.

“Shadow?” Her voice reached him through the door. “I didn’t mean to rush you, I just wanted to check if you were alright.”

He didn’t answer right away. He tightened his grip on the fabric of the towel, staring at the tiled floor, as if it held the answer. The ache in his chest still hadn’t faded. 

“I’ll be out soon,” he finally said, his voice low, hoarse from silence.

 

“Oh, okay,” she replied softly. He listened as her footsteps retreated down the hallway, leaving him alone once more in the quiet.

He sighed, the sound low and heavy, knowing deep down he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. The weight of his thoughts pressed against his chest like an invisible chain, but he forced himself to rise. Slowly, cautiously, he pushed himself upright, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the cold bathroom counter to steady himself. 

A faint tremor ran through his limbs, as if his muscles had forgotten how to move—each tentative step forward was clumsy and unsure, like a baby bird struggling to find its footing for the first time. His legs felt shaky, the towel slipping down his shoulders. The unfamiliar weakness felt like a betrayal, and he bit back the bitterness rising in his throat.

 

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and bitter with self-disgust.

He pushed open the bathroom door, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond. The soft glow of a lamp cast long shadows on the walls, muted and calming. The subtle scent of peony floated gently through the air, wrapping around him like a fragile thread of warmth and comfort, fragile but persistent.

Amy was nowhere in sight.

Yet somehow, her presence was everywhere.

As he walked slowly down the hallway, his eyes flicked from picture frames to soft furnishings, taking in the little pieces of Amy scattered throughout the space. Small tokens of her lingered everywhere: an open book left carelessly on the table, the faint scent of her perfume mixed with whatever she baked, a quiet, gentle hum of the atmosphere welcomed him without words.

Each small thing spoke quietly of her presence—and yet, it made him feel strangely out of place, like an intruder in a world that didn’t quite belong to him.

He wasn’t sure if he was welcome, but somehow, he didn’t want to leave.

Shadow stood quietly in the living room, still caught in the quiet hum of the house, when soft footsteps approached behind him. He turned slowly, hesitant, his throat tight with unspoken thoughts.

 

“Amy?” His voice was rough, uncertain.

 

She stepped into view, her silhouette softly illuminated by the warm glow spilling from the bedroom doorway. Her eyes held a gentle kindness that seemed to soothe the heaviness pressing on his chest.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice a tender whisper that barely disturbed the stillness. “I was just wondering… are you still awake?” There was a teasing lightness to her words, a soft attempt to bridge the distance between them.

The faint scent of flowers and clean linen followed her steps, filling the space like a gentle promise of calm.

“I know it’s late, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been through so much, and I thought maybe you’d want to know I cleaned your gloves. They were a bit tricky to clean, but thankfully the spots are gone. I just left them to dry. oh! And I hope that’s okay. I mean, I wasn’t sure what kind of detergent you normally use, but I picked something gentle. I’ve never really had a guest like you here before, not to be rude, not that I am not used to getting a lot of guests anyway, but I just wanted to make sure you felt…comfortable…” She paused, a bit embarrassed, and she did it again. She noticed Shadow sighed and started to dry his head with the towel. Amy hesitated, sensing his quiet retreat into himself. For a heartbeat, she simply watched, unsure if she’d said too much and irritated him, and for a moment, she stood quietly.

 

“Thank you, Amy.”

He said at last. His voice was low, steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that surprised even himself. She smiled softly, a small, reassuring curve of her lips. She waved her hand dismissively. 

“You don’t have to say that, it was no pro-...” His piercing crimson eyes met hers.

“No. Thank you.” His voice cut through the stillness, firm and heartfelt. Her eyes blinked, looking at him surprised by the seriousness in his voice. “Y-You're welcome.” She said in a soft quiet voice. Amy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, searching for the right thing to say next. They stood in the silence for a little while longer. 

“Well…” she began, stepping back gently, her arms folding in front of her in a small, self-soothing motion. Her smile remained warm, but there was a flicker of nervousness behind it, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the quiet weight between them. She tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking up to meet his for just a second longer than before. “Try to get some rest,” she said in a shaky, nervous voice “If you need anything, just knock.” She got closer to her door, leaving only her head peaking.

“Sweet dreams.” 

 

There was a fragile hope in her tone, as if she truly meant for him to find peace tonight—even just a little. She waited till shadow nodded. Shadow watched her door closing softly, leaving the house wrapped once more in a calming silence.

“Yeah,” he murmured to the empty air, his voice quieter than before. “Sweet dreams.” he said in a soft voice. 

He stared a moment longer, uncertain. 

Will he have dreams?

 

The house settled around him like a quiet sigh, the kind that came after a long day and lingered in the walls. Shadow stood still for a moment longer, letting the hush soak in. It was unfamiliar, this kind of peace. 

He finally turned and moved through the living room with slow, measured steps. The soft rug muffled his footsteps. Amy had left a blanket folded neatly at the foot of the couch, and a pillow rested beside it

He knelt down, letting the towel slide from his shoulders, and picked up the plush blanket. It was softer than expected—a floral fabric, faintly carrying the scent of linen. His fingers lingered at the edge, hesitating.

He sat on the edge of the couch, glancing toward the window where moonlight spilled in silver streaks across the floor. He pulled the blanket over himself and leaned back, the pillow cradling his head. His body tensed instinctively, not quite ready to let go. But the warmth that wrapped around him from the blanket, from the quiet house, urged his muscles to loosen just a little. The room hummed faintly with the low, steady sound of the fridge cycling in the kitchen, and somewhere behind it, a clock ticked. Each second was gentle, precise, like the world was breathing in a slower rhythm here. 

 

His gaze settled on the ceiling, dim and muted in the darkness. His arms folded over his chest as if to protect himself.

 

He felt the weight of the day press into him. The ache of bruises and burns were not the only thing. It was the exhaustion that reached into the marrow of his self, the kind that couldn’t be eased. It was the quiet pull of weariness that had been building for years, maybe centuries, dragging behind him. His body stilled, but his mind refused to follow. Thoughts flickered in the darkness behind his eyes like static—memories, regrets, questions with no answers. The kind of tiredness that crept into the soul and stayed there.

 

His eyes traced the patterns of moonlight across the ceiling—soft, shifting silver lines that pulsed with each blink. The distant tick of a clock was steady, almost lulling. Shadow shifted slightly beneath the blanket and shifted to the side. He loosens his grip of his hands, his hands resting gently at his sides, fingers slightly curled.

 

And somewhere, between one breath and the next, his thoughts began to slow. His eyelids grew heavier with each breath.

 

He let out a long, quiet exhale.

 

Then, finally, he closed his eyes. 

He drifted off to sleep.

 

A few hours passed.

The silence of the room wrapped around him like a blanket. Only the slow rhythm of his breathing could be heard, and the faint sound of a ticking clock somewhere behind him. And then… the dream began.

Figures and colors took shape at the edges of his mind, strange and soft, dreamlike in the way only half-forgotten memories could be. They weren’t nightmares. Yet they were off-putting for him. 

Images and places that didn’t belong to the same memory clashing together, like fragments pulled from different lifetimes and stitched into one twisted reel. He drifted and walked into a hallway he’d never remembered walking, drenched in gold light. A voice calling his name. Once he blinked, he saw himself in a different place, a field. The sky, rippling like water.

 

He looked closer and noticed the moon loomed too close as if it was about to crash on this land. He took a look behind him and noticed on the opposite end of the sky, suspended closer to the sky, the ARK. It stared back at him like an unblinking eye.

 

He didn’t know what to make of it, but the image carved unease into his chest.

His eyes scanned the field again, and that’s when he saw her.

Maria.

She stood just ahead, motionless, her back turned to him. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like spun gold, swaying gently in a breeze he couldn’t feel. She wasn’t moving. Shadow’s breath caught in his throat.

His chest tightened, he held his chest as if his heart was about to fall out, 

Shadow walked slowly, unsure of what to think. The sight of Maria, so familiar, so painfully distant, made his chest ache with a longing. A longing so sharp it almost hurt to breathe. He began to walk toward her, cautious and slow, as though any sudden movement might scare her, or worse, himself.

 

She stood with her back to him. And then, without a word, she began to run.

 

Her laughter echoed through the field, rang out like wind chimes in summer, tugging at him like a thread. It left him breathless. Without thinking, he chased after her. His feet barely brushed the ground. His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He moved like a child chasing after a butterfly, enchanted and helpless, his usual sense of logic lost in the haze of longing. All that mattered was her. She is here. 

He followed her, but something deep in the recesses of his mind, like a fresh, stinging cut, kept him from fully embracing the moment. A quiet agitation, buried beneath the joy, whispered that this, this wasn’t right. Each step felt real, yet, the world around him began to blur at the edges, colors bleeding together like watercolors left in the rain. The fragile peace pressed down on him. It clung to like a warning, as if one wrong step, one wrong breath would shatter the illusion.

He finally noticed it, not all at once, but gradually, like the slow pull creeping at the bottom of his shoes.

At first, his feet felt oddly heavy, as if the grass beneath him had turned to thick velvet. With each step, the weight increased, subtle, almost imperceptible. But soon, the sensation grew stronger. The earth beneath his ankles seemed to soften and grip him, like invisible hands wrapping around, tugging, refusing to let go. His muscles tensed in confusion and unease, but still, he pushed forward, drawn by the sight of Maria just ahead.

 

As he tried to quicken his pace, the ground betrayed him. It gave way slowly, swallowing his feet inch by inch. His ankles sank deeper into the cold, damp soil, the wet earth clutching tighter with every desperate step.

A prickling chill rose up his legs, crawling like creeping ivy, and a knot of panic tightened in his stomach. His breath hitched, heart pounding. He reached out toward Maria, fingers trembling, longing for even a flicker of her attention.

 It climbed higher, inch by inch, pulling him down with slow, deliberate cruelty. The mud crept past his calves, thick and icy, wrapping around his legs like cement. Each movement only dragged him deeper, like the land itself wanted to bury him. He gasped as the first bitter taste of grit filled his mouth. The soil clung to his tongue, packed beneath his teeth. His eyes burned as flecks of dirt scratched at his vision, blurring everything in a haze. 

Following this, something shifted.

The earth that had been clutching his legs no longer felt like soil.

 

It was thicker now. Heavier. It oozed and dragged like wet cement or deep water laced with ash. Cold, unrelenting, it swallowed more of him by the second. He struggled, but his movements were sluggish, his limbs resisting him as though the very air had grown dense.

The ground, or whatever it had become, rippled like thick black liquid. And as it pulled him deeper, he realized the texture wasn’t quite mud or water, it was something else. It clung to him. Like it wanted him. 

Through it all, he could still see her.

 

She had stopped now, standing just a few feet ahead, her back still turned to him. Her hands were folded behind her gently, still, like she was waiting for him. He reached out with trembling hands, fingers coated in black mud and desperation.

“Maria…” His voice cracked, barely audible through the soil that weighed down his chest.

He kept reaching, reaching through the blur, begging her with everything he had left. He opened his mouth to scream, but only more of it poured in. As it filled his lungs, a creeping dread seized his heart.

His world darkened, vision blurring as the suffocating weight pressed down, slow and merciless, dragging him further into the earth’s cold embrace.

 

He woke up in a cold sweat.

 

Air clawed its way into his lungs as he gasped, choking on nothing but the memory of dirt. His chest rose and fell in jagged bursts, the phantom taste of earth still clinging to the back of his throat. It was too real.

His fingers twitched, Shadow sat upright, his pulse hammering in his ears.

He dragged a trembling hand through his quills and over his face, pressing it to his temple, trying to still the racing thoughts. The fabric of the blanket was bunched beneath him, clinging to his sides. He could feel the faint sting of tears that had dried at the corner of his eyes.

What was that?

His breathing slowed, but a prickling unease lingered. A wrongness. Not from the dream itself—but from the air around him. The kind of stillness that didn’t feel empty.

That’s when he felt it.

 

Something watching.

 

He froze, every instinct sharpening like a blade. He didn’t move, his eyes slowly scanned the quiet room. It looked the same as when he’d fallen asleep: dim, moonlight casting soft stripes across the floor, the fridge humming low from the kitchen.

But then he saw it.

 

There, beside the television, just past the edge of the glowing light from the tv was a window. The curtains had been left slightly open, just enough to expose a narrow slice of the outside world.

 

And behind the glass, in the dark—

 

Something stood there.

 

A figure. It can barely be seen. It stood motionless.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

It was gone.

Nothing but the glass reflecting the room back at him. He kept staring, unwilling to look away, afraid that if he blinked again, it might come back. His breath hitched again. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him wasn’t sure he had really woken up at all.

He felt like he was losing his mind. A cold bead of sweat slid down the side of his face as he slowly turned his head to check the time.

3:00 a.m.

 He checked the clock and saw that it was now 3:00 in the morning. At the same time he had his other nightmare. 

Exactly when the last nightmare had struck.

 

A sharp, high-pitched static screeched in his ears.

 

The TV turned on by itself.

 

The glow bathed the room in cold blue light, and symbols—unfamiliar, broken, wrong—flashed across the screen. They jittered, twitched, then bled into each other, crawling like corrupted code across the monitor’s face.

His throat tightened.

 

Why wasn’t Amy waking up? 

He looked toward her hallway, but there was nothing. The entire house was swallowed in a choking silence.

His eyes flicked back to the screen. Between the static and the film noise, he could finally see on the TV what seemed to be a room, white and sterile. The image stuttered like old tape, lines dragging across the screen, warping the room at odd angles. There was no sound but the persistent hiss of analog static, crawling into his ears like insects.

The walls of the room were odd. There were no doors. No windows. Just emptiness, smeared in unsettling stillness. Every edge bled slightly into the next, like overexposed film. In the center of the frame, a single metal chair sat, bolted to the floor. Then the lighting shifted abruptly. The image crackled. For a split second, it was empty again. Then it wasn’t.

 

There was someone in the chair now.

Small.

A child, maybe?

 

Shadow squinted, leaning in without realizing it. The lighting was dim, flickering. Darkness draped over the figure’s face, leaving it obscured in dark haze. He couldn’t make out the details, but the child’s posture was strange, hunched forward, like they’d been there a long time… or hadn’t been meant to move at all.

They didn’t look up.

The image flickered again, the film noise getting worse, barely visible. The camera began to tilt slightly on its own, like a human head cocking in curiosity. The tape wavered, warped, before stabilizing once more.

Shadow’s breath caught. There was someone else in there .

Then the voices began.

Low. Static-heavy. Distant at first—just murmurs beneath the television’s hum, like someone speaking from underwater through a busted speaker.

Shadow’s ears twitched.

He couldn’t tell what they were saying.

Until suddenly—

A line cut through the noise. Making his skin crawl.

“Now ,” They said something 

“... we want you to be very still. Very still.”

A pale, twitching hand slammed against the inside of the screen.

Before he knew it, a pale, distorted hand slammed against the inside of the TV screen.

 

The impact made Shadow flinch violently, stumbling back and crashing into the coffee table behind him. The sound of shifting furniture filled the room, brief and sharp, silence, save for the rising static of the screen. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, his fists clenched tight, every muscle braced for what might come next. Teeth gritted, he forced himself to look again.

 

Then, silence. The hand was gone.

 

The screen was nothing now, just static, hissing like a thousand broken whispers. It filled the room, heavy and daunting, crawling beneath his skin. He scanned the space around him with quick, wary eyes. The glow of the TV cast flickering shadows across the walls, making the room feel smaller.

 

 Before he knew it, a breath.

Right behind his ear.

 

Stay Still…

 

The voice pressed against his skin. The words slid down his neck like ice water, soaked into his nerves, and froze him. He spun around like a blade, the movement sharp. His feet scraped the wooden floor, fists clenched tight, quills bristling.

But behind him…there was nothing. Nothing but the thick veil of darkness behind him.

The TV was still hissing in the corner.

 

Shadow’s chest rose and fell in shallow bursts to keep himself calm. He refused to blink.

 

Because if he blinked…who knows what would happen next.

 

His eyes darted across the living room. Nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck refused to lie flat. His ears scanned around to pick up on any noise. Still nothing. 

 

Shadow stayed frozen for a beat longer, every instinct telling him to keep his guard up.

 

But the seconds stretched.

And nothing moved.

Nothing changed.

 

The tension in his muscles began to wane. Slowly, he straightened, his fists unclenching.

He turned back toward the television, the static still glowing, casting a pale light across the room. The hum of static filled his ears, almost numbing him in a way.

 

A thought crept in like a whisper:

What if I never really woke up?

 

He stared at the static, almost hypnotized by it. His arms, once tight and ready, slowly lowered to his sides. His body loosened, but his mind stayed tangled.

 

“Was I dreaming?”

He blinked once, eyes lingering on the flickering static. His breath caught. He stepped forward, toward the screen.

 

Get a grip…

You’re tired. You’re not thinking straight.

This is what happens when you let your mind go too long without rest.

 

He dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his temple where a dull ache had begun to pulse. His fingers trembled, just slightly.

He got closer to the television. He sighed and turned it off. 

 

And for the briefest second, something moved within the black screen.

His eyes widened. His body stiffened before he could do anything.

 

Hands.

 

Wrapping around his neck from behind pinning him down on the floor. 

He gasped, his whole body jerking and wailing.

Fingers nails dug into his throat. His heels scrambled against the floor, searching for grip.

 

This was not a dream. This was real. 

He choked, feet slipping beneath him as his lungs screamed for air. And somewhere deep in the blur of panic and terror, he heard it again.

Stay Still…

He looked up.

 

The pressure on his neck was unbearable now—his muscles locked, lungs screaming for air, vision flickering like a dying light.

 

But he had to see. He had to know what had him.

 

His head tilted back just enough, eyes glassy with tears and that’s when he saw them:

 

Two red eyes.

Glowing.

Like twin stars bleeding.

 

They stared into him

Shadow’s heart seized.

 

The last thing he felt was a paralyzing dread. He jolted awake.

Gasping. His hand flew to his neck—no marks. No bruises.

He blinked rapidly. The room was quiet again.

 

The television was off. The coffee table didn't even move. He was still in the same spot where he dozed off. Shadow sat upright on the couch, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. His body ached for rest, but his mind refused. So he sat, tense, staring blankly into the dark room, waiting for morning like it might save him.

 

Morning light crept through the curtains in pale streaks, soft gold brushing against the walls of Amy’s apartment. Birds chirped somewhere beyond the windowpane, their song gentle and distant.

 

Amy stirred beneath her blankets, eyelids fluttering open to the scent of something warm—savory, maybe even slightly burnt—and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen.

 

She blinked, sitting up with a yawn. For a moment, she wondered if she’d imagined it. But the clinking of dishes confirmed otherwise.

 

Throwing on her robe, she stepped into the hallway and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.

 

To her surprise, she found Shadow standing by the stove.

The counter behind him was surprisingly very clean and organized: eggs cracked, toast ready, a kettle steaming.

 

Amy stood in the doorway quietly, watching. ¨Awe shadow…¨

 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said as she walked towards him.

 

Shadow glanced over his shoulder.

“I was up,” he said simply, voice low. “Thought I’d be useful.”

 

Amy leaned against the frame and offered a small smile. “That’s sweet.”

 

He didn’t answer. Just returned his focus to the pan.

 

She stepped closer, her eyes quietly tracing the lines of his posture. Something about the way he stood felt... off. There was tension in his shoulders, like he hadn’t relaxed in days. His fur was slightly tousled, unkempt in a way that hinted at restlessness rather than sleep. And in the morning light, the shadows under his eyes looked deeper, etched in like light bruises that refused to fade.

 

Still, his movements were meticulous. He poured the eggs into the pan with steady hands, flipped them with care, like keeping busy was the only thing holding him together.

“You didn’t sleep?” she asked gently.

 

He hesitated for a moment. “Didn’t feel like it.”

 

Amy tilted her head, a soft crease forming in her brow. “Didn’t… feel like it?”

 

Shadow caught the look of concern in her eyes but turned away before it could linger. “I don’t need sleep,” he muttered, voice low and flat. 

 

She just nodded and opened a cabinet to grab a couple of cups.  They moved in near silence after that, the quiet hum of the morning wrapping gently around them. The tension from the night slowly melted into something softer, but Amy still glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

 

She watched the way his hands moved, steady, but a little too careful, like he was trying not to slip. His eyes, though, looked hollow. Worn. There was a heaviness in his expression, like he was holding back something. 

 

Amy’s heart ached just watching him. She wanted to say something, ask if he was okay, but instead, she passed him a plate and took a seat beside him at the small table. Hoping that maybe her presence could be enough. Letting the silence between them speak where words couldn't.

 

The quiet clatter of plates and the soft presence between them, gratitude lived unspoken. For now, sitting beside her in the quiet, breathing in the smell of warm toast and tea… it was enough. 

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter 💖
This one was personal and emotional to write. If you enjoyed the chapter, feel free to leave a comment. I love to read them!
Until next time,
Don’t forget to get some rest… unlike Shadow. ~
-Bunni 🌸

Chapter 5: Wasting Our Time

Summary:

Shadow processes the loss of his home with Amy by his side. After visiting the ruins, they join Sonic and Tails for a quiet outing at a shopping center.

After breakfast, Amy left Shadow for a bit at the table while she picked up something. She stepped into the living room with a folded bundle in her hands. Morning light filtered through the blinds in soft, golden streaks, casting warm patterns across the floor and catching the dust in the air like floating stars. Shadow was quite relaxed even after what had happened last night.

 

“Good news,” she said gently.

 

Her voice carried that kind of morning softness, she was still slowly waking up.

 

Shadow sat hunched over, chewing on some black coffee beans he had poured into a mug like it was cereal. His shoulders were slouched, he ate them desperately, and his eyes were blank as he chewed them.

 

Amy stopped mid-step.

 

She blinked at him, uncertain if she should be concerned, uncertain if she should be concerned, uncertain if she should be concerned, uncertain if she should be concerned or amused, nervous that he might crack a molar.. He was crunching through the beans like it was completely normal. 

"Are you... eating those?" she asked, voice laced with hesitation.

 

Shadow didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. The only indication that he’d heard her at all was the subtle flick of one ear in her direction 

 

She blinked again.

 

"...Okay," she whispered, mostly to herself. Trying not to think about it. 

 

“They got cleaned,” she added, stepping closer and holding out the gloves. Shadow finally looked up.

 

She unfolded the gloves carefully, revealing the worn, familiar white leather. They looked older in the daylight, creased and fraying around the edges, but the grime and ash had been scrubbed away. The faint scent of soap still clung to them. 

 

Amy smiled faintly, brushing a thumb across a cracked seam. “Still pretty rough… but they’ve got some life left in them.” She teased at him.

 

Amy blinked.

 

It hit her then, just how tired he looked. The way the light hit his face only made it more obvious.

 

His eyes were dull, ringed with fatigue, the dark circles beneath them more obvious than when they said good night. It was as if the night had clung to him, refusing to let go. The quiet ache of it caught her off guard. Her smile faltered for a moment. 

 

She simply pushed out the gloves a little closer to him.

 

He stared at the gloves for a moment, seeing her gloved hand pushing his old one. For a moment, he imagined they were holding hands. Then, slowly, he reached out and took them from her hands. Without a word, he slipped them on, flexing his fingers once. The leather stretched softly with the motion, creaking faintly in the quiet room. 

 

It didn’t quite fit the way it used to. Maybe it never had.

 

“…Thanks,” he said, his voice low and rough, barely louder than a breath.

 

Amy nodded.
“Of course.”

 

She watched him adjust the fit, her eyes lingering on the way his hands moved. There was a tenderness in the way he moved, like he was afraid the seams might break if he wasn’t careful. There was something strangely intimate about the moment, though neither of them said anything more. Amy shook her head, breaking the thought, and busied herself with whatever was nearby.

 

For a moment, it was just the two of them in silence, Amy was still quietly impressed, maybe even a little stunned, that Shadow had cleaned her whole apartment before she’d even woken up. She had no chores left to do. Not a single dish in the sink, not a pillow out of place. It was both touching and slightly unnerving. How long was he awake? She asked herself.

 

Amy, half-distracted and trying to seem casual, reached for the remote and turned on the TV, mostly just to fill the silence.

The screen flickered to life. A live news report was already in progress.

 

A familiar aerial shot filled the screen: scorched ruins, blackened support beams, a collapsed roof. Her breath caught slightly as she realized what it was. Shadow’s apartment complex.

 

Reduced to ash.

Shadow looked up at the screen.

A reporter’s voice filtered through, clear and professional:

 

“We’re continuing coverage of last night’s fire that gutted a residential structure in the East District. Emergency services have confirmed there were no casualties, but the damage is extensive. Officials estimate it will take several months for cleanup and reconstruction to begin. 

The cause of the fire is still under investigation.”

 

Shadow stared at the screen, unmoving.

 

The glow of the screen flickered across his face, but his expression didn’t change. Still, something in the air shifted around him. 

 

Amy’s stomach sank.

 

“I—” she started, her voice small. She quickly turned the volume down. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

 

She glanced over at him. He stood there in silence, his hand tightening. The leather of his glove creaked under the strain, knuckles going white beneath it. Somehow, that scared her more than anything he could’ve said.

 

Amy got up and stepped forward, concern flickering in her eyes.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

 

Shadow didn’t answer right away. His gaze was distant, locked on something only he could see, something that wasn’t there. For a moment, she thought he might not respond at all.

 

“I just need to check something,” he said at last, his voice low, clipped.

 

Shadow adjusted one of his gloves with a quiet tug, sealing the distance between them again. He made his way to the balcony, boots soft against the floor. For a second, he paused and in a flicker of red light, he vanished.

 

Amy let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over the hum of the television. She stepped toward the window and looked outside, her gaze following the empty air where he’d disappeared.

She didn’t ask where he went because she knew.

 

Without another word, she grabbed her jacket from the couch, slipping her arms through the sleeves. She gave the quiet apartment one last glance, the stillness pressing in around her.

Then she stepped out the door to find him.

-

Shadow reappeared at the burned site.

The damage was worse in daylight.

 

Charred metal jutted from the earth like broken bones, skeletal and jagged. Twisted beams cast long, sharp shadows across the rubble. The ground beneath his feet was blackened and brittle, crunching faintly with each step.

 

The scent of scorched wires and soot still clung to the air, it nearly made him cough by how stale the air was.

 

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the wreckage in silence.

 

A cleanup crew moved cautiously around the perimeter, their neon vests a jarring contrast against the gray-black site. Machinery groaned in the background, and the wind stirred the ash like snow.

 

One of the workers glanced up and spotted him emerging through the smoke-stained light.

 

Shadow go closer and scanned around. “It’s bad,” the man said, voice cautious but not unkind. Shadow’s presence was intimidating enough, but the worker’s gaze lingered briefly on him, flickering with an unspoken emotion. “Sorry, sir… nothing’s salvageable. And yeah, it’ll be months before this place is stable again.” 

 

For a heartbeat, Shadow’s eyes softened, just slightly, revealing a flicker of his own regret buried deep beneath the surface. Then he masked it quickly, tightening his jaw and turning back to the wreckage.

 

Shadow gave a small nod and said nothing. His eyes narrowed, scanning what remained.

 

What once stood as his home was now only skeletal remains—its structure hollowed out, the memories inside burned away.

 

Without a word, he stepped forward and disappeared.

A flicker of red light.

Then another.

 

He moved through the debris, teleporting with quiet bursts of energy to cover more ground without disturbing the rubble too much.

 

He stepped over fallen beams, scorched insulation, and the blackened outlines of rooms that no longer existed.

 

His gaze stayed sharp, scanning every fragment.

 

He didn’t know what he was hoping to find, maybe a clue or a trace of something. More than anything, he wanted to prove something to himself. 

 

That this fire… wasn’t his fault.

That the weight of it wasn’t his alone to carry.

Because deep down, he feared what would happen if he couldn’t find that proof.

 

Then, beneath a half-collapsed beam, something caught his eye.

He crouched and reached for it.

 

A burnt file folder. The edges were curled and blackened, fragile in his hands, as if it might disintegrate under his grip. Rouge had given it to him the night before the fire. Told him it might contain something important.

 

He had printed the images himself, just in case. Distorted visuals, Rouge had mentioned when her monitored would go haywire. He remembered her words. I managed to grab a picture before it disappeared.

 

He opened the folder slowly. Empty.

 

Whatever was inside had either burned in the heat or been scattered by the blast. Shadow stared at the folder for a moment longer before rising. Ash swirled faintly around his boots, stirred by the soft wind.

 

Something moved at the edge of his vision.

He turned, eyes narrowing.

 

In the distance, Sonic strolled through the ruins, shoulders relaxed, and his expression as usual unserious, like he wasn’t standing in the middle of what used to be someone’s life. His footsteps were slow and casual. His eyes sweeping across the wreckage as if he were searching for something, though what, Shadow couldn’t tell..

 

Behind him, Tails followed, talking to him about something. A soft chime came from the device on his wrist. The glow of the screen flickered against his face as he took readings, murmuring technical notes under his breath, ears flicking in concentration.

 

Shadow’s gaze sharpened as he observed them both.

He hadn’t told them he was coming. In fact, he hadn’t expected anyone to come at all.

 

Shadow didn’t move. Instead, he stayed still, blending into his surroundings, watching.

 

His gaze lingered on Sonic for a moment longer, watching the way the blue hedgehog’s brows knit together in focus. The way his steps slowed when he reached the blackest parts of the wreckage. The kitchen. Tails trailed after him, tail twitching, visor glowing faintly.

Shadow’s jaw tightened.

 

What are you doing here?

 

Before the question could form in his mind, a voice broke through the haze of thought.

 

“Shadow?”

 

He turned sharply.

 

Amy stood near the edge of the debris, just past a line of scorched concrete. Her arms were crossed, her expression soft but tinged with concern.

 

It was the worry in her eyes that made him blink and shift his focus. Without a word, he walked toward her. When he reached her side, his silence spoke volumes.

 

“Nothing?” she asked gently.

 

He shook his head.

 

Amy’s shoulders softened, and she reached out hesitantly, resting a hand lightly on Shadow’s arm. Shadow glanced down at her hand on his arm, then back up into her eyes.

 

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, he murmured, “I don’t think there’s nothing here for me.”

 

They began to walk side by side, their steps quiet against the cracked pavement. Around them, the broken skeleton of the building loomed in silence.

 

After a moment, Amy glanced up at him.

“What were you hoping to find?” she asked.

Shadow sighed.

 

“…It’s hard to say,” he confessed quietly, his tone tired rather than frustrated, as if the weight of the night before was settling even deeper now.

 

She simply nodded, her hands clasped together in front of her as they walked past a collapsed brick wall.

 

As they began to walk through the site together, their steps careful on the fractured ground, Amy stayed close beside him. Shadow’s eyes lingered on a twisted stair rail poking out from a slab of concrete. He thought he remembered using that railing once, late at night.

 

He exhaled slowly, the breath catching in his chest before it left him. Amy watched him out of the corner of her eye.

 

The air still smelled faintly of smoke and scorched metal. The wind whispered through the bare remains of the building, weaving through broken beams and open spaces like it was mourning too.

Amy slowed down, making Shadow stop as well. Something tugged at her attention.

She glanced behind them, her eyes scanning the path they’d taken.

 

At first, she thought it was just a trick of the light, the way the sun filtered through the dust and ash. But then she saw him.

In the distance, she spotted a flash of blue. Her breath caught slightly.

 

Sonic.

 

He was walking toward them now, casually hopping over a broken support beam like it was nothing more than a fallen tree branch. The ruins around him didn’t seem to affect him much at all.

 

“Hey, Amy,” he called out with a small wave, his voice light, almost cheerful, despite the heavy silence clinging to the air.

 

Amy smiled softly. “Hey, Sonic.”

 

Shadow’s ears twitched at the sound of his voice, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked toward Sonic, watching him approach with that same effortless ease as if none of this mattered, as if the scorched ruins weren’t a graveyard. His gaze lingered for a beat too long before he turned away again, his expression unreadable, carefully guarded.

 

Sonic’s eyes flicked briefly to Shadow as he approached. Amy raised an eyebrow,, a bit confused by his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

 

Sonic shrugged as he stepped over a chunk of broken wall. “What? I can’t drop by and see what’s left of the place?”

 

She narrowed her eyes a little, unconvinced. “You didn’t tell anyone you were coming.”

 

Sonic paused for a heartbeat, just enough to notice the weight behind her words, but he brushed it off with a crooked half-smile. “Didn’t know I needed permission.” Sonic said, teasingly. 

Shadow’s eyes flicked toward him, unreadable.

 

Amy glanced between them, feeling something unspoken between them. She couldn’t quite understand but she shrugged it off.

 

Just then, a soft whirring sound came from behind a pile of rubble.Tails emerged, his twin tails spinning gently as he hovered forward. 

 

“Hey, everyone,” he greeted.

 

He paused, eyes quickly taking in the tight silence between the three of them—the barely hidden tension hanging thick in the air.

Tails’ brow furrowed slightly.

“Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

 

Amy returned Tails’ gaze with a soft smile, her eyes easing the tension in the air.

 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she said quietly. “Just… a lot on everyone’s mind.”

Tails caught Amy’s smile and returned it with a small, reassuring grin.

“Alright, if you say so,” he said, his voice lightening just a bit

 

But Amy’s eyes shifted to Shadow, noticing the tightness in his posture, the way his shoulders clenched ever so slightly, betraying a tension he wasn’t showing out loud. He hadn’t found anything in the ruins. And now Sonic was here making everything feel more complicated.

 

He took one last look at the unrecognizable building, searching for something familiar in the ruin, before Amy gently interrupted his thoughts.

 

She stepped a little closer, hesitating only for a second before reaching out.

“…Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s get out of here for a while. You need a break from all this.”

 

Shadow blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, he looked like he might refuse, but then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased., he gave a small nod. 

 

“…Alright.” he said in a quiet voice. Amy offered a quiet smile and walked beside him, giving Shadow space to follow. 

 

They walked together for a while, the wreckage behind them and the wind gently picking up around their path. Before the silence could settle too deeply, Sonic’s voice cut in from behind. “Hope you don’t mind some company,” he said casually, hopping over a crack in the pavement to fall into step beside them. “Tails and I were thinking the same thing—little walk might do us all some good.”

 

Tails looked slightly startled by the sudden declaration but quickly nodded, adjusting the scanner in his hands.

“Yeah, we’ve covered enough for now anyway.”

Amy blinked, then gave a quiet laugh under her breath.

“Alright, sure,” she said. “The more, the merrier.”

Shadow didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object either.

 

Sonic followed a short distance back, having found nothing useful why not take a break. Tails trailed along not far behind, clearly content just being around Amy and maybe a little curious about Shadow.

 

And so the four of them walked on together, the ruins behind them. For a while, none of them spoke.

 

Amy walked ahead, the breeze lifting strands of her quills. The trees lining the sidewalk were in bloom, petals caught in the wind like lazy confetti, drifting through the air. She closed her eyes briefly and let the sun warm her face, letting the tension of the morning ease just a little.

 

They passed a small shopping plaza nestled along the street, its modern layout curving in a crescent shape around a central fountain. Despite its worn appearance and vines, the place was alive with movement, people chatting outside, the smell of fresh pastries drifting through the air, and flower boxes blooming under every window. It was lively and sunlit, humming with the easy rhythm of late morning. Amy steps slowed, drawn by the energy like a flower turning toward the sun. The shift in atmosphere was almost jarring, but welcome.

 

Amy slowed, then stopped in front of it. She paused, glancing down the lively stretch of shops and stalls, her eyes gleaming with mischief. A grin tugged at her lips as she turned back to the others.

 

“…You guys up for a little retail therapy?” she asked, already making her way toward the entrance with a spark in her step. Shadow raised an eyebrow, visibly confused, watching as she spun on her heel with a playful twirl.

 

“I mean...we’ve earned it, right?” she said, flashing a grin over her shoulder. Before he could say anything, Sonic’s usual confident grin softened just a bit as he glanced at Amy and said, “Count me in.” His smile lingering a moment longer as he waited for everyone else to agree.

 

Tails nodded eagerly, adding, “Me too.”

 

Shadow blinked, caught off guard, but then simply sighed and fell in step behind them. Amy noticed the hesitation lingering in Shadow’s step, the way he hung back slightly as the others moved forward.

 

She turned to him, trying to lighten his mood.

 

“Come on,” she said, turning to Shadow with a grin. “I know it’s not your thing, but maybe this will distract you for a while.”

 

Shadow glanced at the colorful sign above the entrance, then back at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. His jaw tightened for a moment, the weight of everything still pressing on him.

 

“Shopping?” he repeated, as if it were a foreign word.

 

She leaned in slightly, teasing. “Who knows? You might even find something you like.”

 

After a brief pause, he gave a slow, reluctant nod and said quietly, “Fine. For a little while.”

 

Tails and Sonic were already going through the doors. Amy waved at them, trying to slow them down as they stepped inside. 

 

The shopping plaza opened into a breezy, open-air corridor lined with storefronts on both sides. The place is covered by high glass canopies that let in plenty of sunlight, warm wind weaving through the walkways, mingling with the scents of fresh pastries, soft pretzels, and perfume.

 

“I’m hitting the candy store!” Tails declared, already trotting ahead with a sparkle in his eyes. Sonic chuckled and called after him, “Just don’t overdo it like last time, Tails. You were bouncing off the walls for hours.”

 

Tails didn’t even slow down, just gave a quick thumbs-up as he disappeared around a corner. Tails vanishing into the aisles of brightly packaged candy mints.

 

Amy, Shadow, and Sonic strolled at a slower pace, letting the flow of foot traffic drift around them as they passed by rows of boutiques. 

 

As they passed one of the shop windows, a sleek pair of high-end sneakers caught Sonic’s eye. He came to a sudden stop beside Shadow and jabbed a thumb toward the glass.

 

“Think those ones would look good on me?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

 

Inside the display, a pair of aerodynamic, high-performance shoes gleamed under the spotlight, clearly flashy. Shadow glanced at the ridiculous pair of electric sneakers. He rolled his eyes.

 

“Only if you’re planning to moonlight as a traffic light,” he muttered.

 

Sonic snorted. “Hey, some of us like to be seen.”

“You are seen. Constantly…” Shadow replied dryly. “That’s the problem.”

 

Amy chuckled under her breath, hiding a grin behind her hand as the two continued walking.

 

Sonic immediately veered off toward the shoe store with a sparkle in his eye.

 

“I’ll catch up,” he called, already halfway through the door. “Something tells me destiny’s waiting in a size ten!”

 

Amy chuckled and shook her head. “That leaves just us,” she jokingly said.

 

They strolled beneath strings of lights swaying in the breeze. A kiosk passed by with bubble tea. Amy stopped, bought one, and offered it to Shadow with a grin.

“You’ve never tried this, right? C’mon, live a little.”

 

Shadow took it without much hesitation, bringing the straw to his lips. The first sip hit him hard—his eyes narrowed, and he froze slightly, staring down at the cup like it had just insulted him. The tapioca pearls had caught him completely off guard.

 

Amy blinked and held her breath, trying not to laugh.

“Oh no,” she said, holding up her hands. “Did it betray you?”

He gave her a long, slow side-eye.

 her mischievous smirk turns into a nervous, small laugh.

 

Shadow handed the bubble tea back to her, and Amy took it with a quiet giggle, sipping the tapioca pearls.

“Okay, maybe that's not your thing,” she said, nudging his arm with her elbow. “We’ll find something you actually like.”

 

They kept walking, the flow of people passing them like a gentle current. Sunlight caught on the hanging terrariums in the window, painting soft patterns on the pavement.

 

Amy slowed, eyes catching on a display of miniature succulents. She stopped in front of a small cactus, round and stubby, with a single red flower perched proudly at the top. It stood out just enough to draw her in, delicate but stubborn.

 

It reminded her of him for some reason. Making herself giggle at the thought. 

 

She didn’t realize how long she’d been staring until Shadow spoke.

 

“You gonna buy it,” he asked, his voice low. Amy blinked, startled out of her thoughts. She glanced at him, then let out a small laugh.

 

“I was just thinking it’s cute,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all.”

 

They walked without speaking for a while, the hum of chatter and music fading behind them. The energy of the outlet gave way to something calmer as they stepped into a smaller, tucked-away boutique.

 

The lighting was warm, the kind that softened edges and made everything feel a little slower. Shelves were neatly stocked, mannequins posed in seasonal outfits beneath hanging lanterns.

 

Amy drifted toward the front display, where a soft wool scarf was wrapped elegantly around a mannequin’s shoulders. The fabric was a dusty rose color—cozy, understated, the kind of thing that made her pause without realizing.

 

She reached out and gently brushed the fabric between her fingers, thoughtfully.

A few steps away, Shadow had stopped.

 

A shelf along the wall, quiet and unassuming, was lined with gloves.

 

Black. Leather. Synthetic. Fingerless. Neatly arranged by size and style. His eyes lingered.

One pair looked… almost exactly like his. But not worn down.

He paused.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t reach for them. 

 

Amy turned from the scarf display, catching the shift in his posture.

 

“They look like yours,” she said gently.

 

Shadow gave a small shrug, but his voice gave out a small hint of surprise. “I guess.”

 

But his eyes lingered on the gloves longer than they needed to.

Amy noticed.

 

She didn’t say anything either. Just watched him for a moment as he turned his gaze elsewhere, pretending to be disinterested.

 

Then, without a word, she stepped closer to the shelf, picked up the gloves he’d been eyeing, and quietly slipped them into her basket, tucking them between the folds of the scarf.

 

Later, they regrouped outside near the large central fountain, where the buzz of the mall gave way to open air and softer sounds. Water danced over stone, catching the late afternoon light in glimmering arcs

 

Amy sat on the edge of the fountain with her bag in her lap, the scarf now neatly folded inside. Tails hovered nearby, his hands full of candy bags and peppermint sticks. Sonic hadn’t bought anything, Sonic just stood a little further off, eyes half-lidded as he leaned casually against a pillar.  Shadow stood beside the fountain, watching the water ripples. His reflection shimmered in the surface, blurred, but still there.

 

A moment later, they stepped out of the shopping center into the golden light of late afternoon.

 

Shadow followed behind them. And though he kept his distance, it was just a little closer than before.

 

As they made their way up a grassy hill behind the plaza, flower petals drifted in the air. Tails offered Sonic a stick of peppermint candy Sonic recoiled dramatically, eyes wide in mock horror.

 

“Mint? Tails, I thought we were friends.” Amy laughed, and the sound echoed gently in the space between them all.

 

Shadow didn’t laugh. But…just watching them have fun with each other 

 

Something in his chest felt a little lighter.

He didn’t join in. He didn’t know how.

But for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like he was watching from the outside.

 

He was here.

And that was enough.

 

They reached the top of the grassy hill, the city sprawling quietly below.

 

It wasn’t tall, just a slope behind the shops, but from up here, the view stretched wide. Rooftops shimmered in the afternoon sun. The soft hum of traffic rolled beneath them, distant and blurred. From here everything felt slower and quieter.

 

Shadow stood a few paces back, watching the others.

 

Amy sat cross-legged in the grass, fiddling with a candy wrapper Tails gave her. Sonic was stretched out beside her, arms folded behind his head, going on about something reckless he’d done the other day. Tails lay on his stomach in the grass,  nose nearly buried in, he was sketching something with a stick.

 

They looked… at ease. He thought to himself 

 

Shadow let his eyes fall shut for a moment. The wind touched his fur, cool and fleeting. A bird overhead cried once and was gone.

 

For a heartbeat, there was nothing to worry about. 

No order. No fire. Nothing breathing down his neck.

Just the faint wind passing by, someone laughing, and the steady hum of a world that kept moving

 

He opened his eyes.

 

Amy glanced back at him, her fingers still loosely wrapped around the crinkled candy wrapper. She paused when she saw him standing still, quiet, the wind lifting his quills just slightly. His shoulders had relaxed. The tension that usually gripped his posture had eased, if only just.

 

She smiled gently. 

 

There’s the hedgehog I know, she thought to herself.

Notes:

Thank you so much for your patience and support. This chapter took some time, but I truly wanted to capture a softer moment for Shadow. The tone and feeling were deeply inspired by the song “A.M. 180” by Grandaddy—a track that I love.

I hope you felt some of that peace while reading.
More soon.
♡ Bunni

Chapter 6: Between Company

Summary:

The group shares a quiet moment in a restaurant. Amy keeps wondering if he’ll leave the group.

The breeze was soft, warm with the late afternoon sun about to dip. Shadows of the trees stretched longer over the hilltop, and the sounds of the city below grew quieter, softer, as if the world was beginning to wind down.

Amy stretched her arms overhead and let out a small sigh.

“I’m hungry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “We’ve been walking all day.”

Sonic rolled over onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Same here. I saw a good place to eat on the way, just a few blocks down. It looked decent.”

“I could eat,” Tails added, already halfway through another piece of choco mint candy, the wrapper rustling as he shoved it deeper into his coat pocket. His cheeks puffed slightly, as if trying not to eat it too fast.

Amy laughed softly, brushing a petal from her lap. “Yeah, I think it is time to eat.”

Shadow didn’t respond. He stood a little behind the group, gazing at the skyline. But his stomach gave a subtle, traitorous twist at the mention of food. He was too tired to hide it this time.

Amy noticed. She didn’t say anything, she tried her hardest not to laugh at him. “Alright then, let's head to that place you mention Sonic,” she offered gently, already beginning to head down the slope..

They made their way down the hill together, moving at an unhurried pace. The sky above them had shifted into a gentle wash of orange and gold, with streaks of lavender beginning to creep into the colored sky. The trees lining the sidewalk rustled in the breeze, their leaves catching the fading light like coins tossed into the air. The streets were calm, the day beginning its quiet descent into evening.

Sonic walked ahead with his hands behind his head, whistling idly. Tails trailed beside him. Amy walked between them. Amy would occasionally glance back to make sure Shadow was still following. She knew he would follow, but sometimes she sensed that one point, he will do what he always does and leave the group without telling them, without telling her.

They passed shop windows glowing in golden hour light. Eventually, they came upon it, a small open-air bistro tucked in a corner, half its tables outside under strings of hanging lights. The smell of grilled goods, fresh bread, and spiced tea drifted through the air like an invitation.

Amy paused near the window, drawn in by the smell and the warm glow. Her reflection met her eyes in the glass, rosy-cheeked from the sun, wind-tousled quills, and a gentle smile she hadn’t realized was there.

She turned to Sonic.

“Is this the place?”

Sonic stopped mid-step, peering through the window.

“Looks like it,” He said as he too was nearly drooling from the food.  “I am starving.” He groaned. Tails nodded enthusiastically. “They have pie.” That seemed to seal the deal.

Amy turned to Shadow, eyebrows lifting slightly.
“Want to join us?”

Shadow hesitated. He looked up at the name etched in the glass, Static Bistro, before giving a small nod.
“…Yeah.”

The café was small but warm, with hanging lights like fireflies and a quiet hum of music that played just under the surface of conversation. As they stepped inside, the doorbell chimed softly.

Sonic took the lead since he has already made up his mind to eat, walking with confidence through the cozy interior. Amy pointed at a corner booth by the window, half-shielded by a curtain of plants that hung in woven baskets overhead.

There were string lights inside above their table that flickered subtly, swaying with the movement of the ceiling fan. They cast a soft, amber glow across the woodgrain, catching in Tails’ goggles and glinting off Sonic’s quills whenever he leaned back in his chair. They sighed in relief as if they had been walking for days. They all started to look at the food.

 

Shadow sat quietly beside Amy,  he slowly stole a glance at her smiling. For some reason, this moment tugged at something within him. It took him back when they were sitting at the rooftop garden and further back. He didn’t understand why that memory lingered at the back of his head since then. It always seemed to calm him down though, and make him feel warm, like he had felt this before.

His arms remained folded. As if any movement might accidentally brush against her, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. They were so close. Close enough to hear her breathe, to see the way her lashes flickered as she scanned the café menu with quiet interest. He took a look at her one more time and tried to not get noticed by the others.

And still, that odd tightness clung to his chest, like a memory trying to take shape before he could recall it. He didn't know why, but it felt soothing yet painful.

Across from him, Sonic cracked a few lighthearted jokes, his voice slicing through the ambient hum of the café and snapping Shadow from his trance. Tails burst into laughter, loud enough to earn a side-eye from a nearby waiter, who then smiled and turned away.

Shadow exhaled slowly through his nose, glancing at the menu but not really reading it. “What would you like?” The waitress said kindly. “Coffee beans,” that is all he said to the waitress, leaving her confused on that answer, but went with it anyway. Amy had just finished ordering, handing the menu back with a polite nod, when a familiar voice rang out behind them, bright and smug, with just the right amount of trouble. Shadow’s ears flicked.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite grump.”

Amy turned around with a look of surprise and recognition. Sonic leaned back in his seat with a grin.

“Rouge,” Amy said, smiling.

“Hello dear.” she said as she sauntered up to the table, wearing a dark dress and a smile. Knuckles followed behind, already looking mildly exhausted from whatever conversation they’d just had. Rouge slid a glance at Shadow with a grin that could cut glass. “Didn’t think I’d see you out and about.” She gave a quick glance at Sonic. “Amy must be a miracle worker if she got you to hang out with Sonic voluntarily.”

Amy laughed, looking proud of herself.

Sonic raised a hand. “Hey, I’m a joy to be around.”

“No argument in that,” Rouge said smoothly, “but your brooding friend here usually vanishes before dessert.”

Shadow gave her a look, but said nothing. He reached for his water instead.

“Don’t scare him off,” Sonic quipped, resting his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. “It took all day to get him to even think about hanging out with us.” Tails tried to hide a grin, looking down at the menu.

Amy smiled and scooted over, patting the seat beside her. Not noticing she was leaning more towards Shadow.

“Want to sit with us?”

Rouge glanced around the table, at Sonic’s smirk, Tails’ shy wave, and Shadow looking like he was trying his best not to be flustered by Amy moving closer to him. And just because of that, she gave a little shrug and settled in gracefully.

“Why not? I’ve got ten minutes to kill,” she smiled to Amy as knuckles placed all the bags on the floor, tired from the shopping spree. Knuckles went ahead and started talking to Sonic and Tails. Amy smiled, “Here is the menu. Shadow never gave it back.” Rouge smiles as she takes it from her hand. “I will be back, I need to clean my hands,” she said and got up. 

Rouge saw her chance and leaned in slightly to shadow. She noticed that the boys were not listening but instead were in their own world. Her eyes flicked to Shadow again, this time softer. “Heard about the fire. I came by the site earlier, but you weren’t there.”

Shadow didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at the table, fingers brushing the rim of the mug of coffee beans in front of him. His voice, when it came, was low.

“There wasn’t anything left.”

Rouge’s expression shifted, just for a moment. She nodded, her usual bravado dimmed by understanding. “Well,” she said after a short pause. “Thankfully, you're still here now that counts for something, right?” She said in a joking soft tone. 

Amy was walking back to the table and glanced at Shadow, then at Rouge. She has never seen Shadow’s face change in any way till now. He looked so sad. If only the boys were a little bit quieter, then she could have captured what they were saying.

Rouge leaned a little closer to him, her voice lowering just enough so only he could hear.

“After you're done here… can we talk? Just the two of us. It’s important...” 

“I am back!” Amy smiled. Rouge grinned and let Amy sit down once again next to Shadow.

Shadow turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. Something about her tone—flat, serious beneath the playfulness, told him this wasn’t just casual catching up.

He gave her a single nod.

Rouge leaned back in her chair, adjusting her sunglasses as she sipped her drink. Knuckles hovered awkwardly behind her, trying to decide whether to sit or stand. Amy glanced between the two of them, blinking when she noticed Rouge’s arm casually looped through Knuckles’ as she pulled him down into the seat beside her.

“…Wait a second,” Amy said, tilting her head with a mischievous smile. “Are you dating Rouge now, Knuckles?”

Knuckles froze mid-sit. “Wh-what? No..I mean…” He stammered, glancing at Rouge, who simply smirked.

“Well,” Rouge said smoothly, her fingers still resting on his arm, “he buys me dinner and lets me talk about my earrings for hours. If that’s not dating, then I need a refund.”

Knuckles turned a little red and muttered, “You stole those earrings…”

“Oh, borrowed , honey. Big difference.”

Amy giggled into her hand. “That’s adorable.”

Tails leaned forward from the edge of the table. “I thought you guys were just coworkers.”

“We are,” Knuckles said quickly. He blushed and tried to look as mad as he could to look like he was mad causing him to look even more embarrassed.

Rouge batted her lashes. “With benefits. ”

Sonic nearly choked on his soda. “Oh my Chaos, Rouge..”

“Relax,” she said with a grin. “I’m teasing… mostly.”

Shadow, silent through the exchange, raised an eyebrow—but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile but amy thought for a second that shadow wanted to laugh? 

Amy leaned toward him. “You okay?” she whispered, brushing her hand near his fingers. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his eyes drifting back to the table.

“You don’t have to act like you don’t enjoy the chaos a little,” she teased softly.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. 

The food finally arrived and everyone started to dig in. And after a while they have finished there meal.

Sonic stretched and leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Well, this has been… weirdly pleasant. I never tried a chili dog like that before but..”

“I’m full,” Tails mumbled, his head almost on the table now, candy and fries clearly having taken their toll.

Amy glanced around the table, letting the laughter and soft chitchat wash over her for a moment.

She felt there was something comforting in it. In just being here, sitting with everyone even if most of them would deny the word friends out loud. This was a small kind of peace she wished that shadow could enjoy more.

 

She looked at Shadow again, and for just a second, she could see he looked at ease. She smiled and continued to enjoy her left over fries.

Shadow’s eyes flicked toward Rouge. Her expression had shifted towards him, calm, but serious beneath the smile. It was time to have that talk.

She gave the slightest blink in her eyes. No words needed.

“Excuse me Amy,” Shadow said, rising from his seat.

Amy looked up quickly. “Oh, okay. Is everything alright?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. Before she could ask more, he teleported out of there without a word. He slipping past the entire bistro but Amy could see him reappear outside and disappear into the dark.

Amy watched him go, her smile faltering ever so slightly. She looked down at her drink, stirring it absentmindedly.

“…Right,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Rouge saw the shift on Amy’s face. The soft slump of her shoulders. The way she masked it quickly when Sonic leaned in and cracked another joke. Knuckles, now distracted by Sonic’s story about outrunning a mall cop, didn’t notice when Rouge gently pulled her arm free from his.

“I’ll be right back,” Rouge said breezily, standing from her high chair. She gave Amy a soft smile as she passed.

Amy glanced up, returning it, though this one didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rouge made her way through the crowd, her heels tapping lightly against the tiled walkway until she turned the corner and found Shadow leaning against the wall in the quiet, his arms crossed.

“Didn’t take you long,” he muttered.

Rouge leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring his posture.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to crawl out of your self-imposed shell for months. It is funny now seeing you out and about like nothing. Couldn’t pass this up.” She said in a slightly bothered tone.

He didn’t look at her. Just stared off past the streetlight at the edge of the sidewalk.

She tilted her head, voice dropping to something quieter, more sincere.

“You alright?”

There was a pause.

“No.”

Rouge sighed. He turned to look at her, shadows under his eyes, tired and raw.

“I thought… if I could just hold it together long enough, I could make sense of it all,” Shadow said quietly, jaw tight. “But now everything’s gone. Literally. And I.. I am not..” He tightened his grip. “I am not sure..what to think.”  

Rouge studied him carefully as there was silence between them for a second. “I didn’t cause that fire..” Rouge looks at him in confusion. “Shadow.” “I know I didn’t do it. All I remember was that I was turning on the stove and..” She never seen shadow this concerned about anything.

“I saw what it did to you,” she said, softer now. Shadow looked at her a bit confused. “Back at the site. You didn’t look like yourself.”

Rouge stepped closer, her heels clicking lightly against the floor, every movement deliberate. “I wanted to talk because… when that apartment went up in flames…” She hesitated, searching his face as if trying to peel away his defenses. “You weren’t even there, were you?”

Shadow looked at her. “What?.” 

Rouge didn’t answer right away. She studied him with a seriousness that made the café’s warm chatter fade to static in his ears.

“I saw you,” she said finally. “That night… when the fire started. You weren’t anywhere near the street.” She leaned in a fraction, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “You were on top of a building.”

Her eyes narrowed, remembering. “You were… talking to someone. But no one was there. At least, no one I could see. I tried to get close to you, called your name, even, but it was like you couldn’t hear me..” Shadow felt his jaw tighten. For a moment, the memory flickered at the edge of his mind of that night. The city lights spun above him as he was falling.

A faint ringing filled his ears, almost like a whisper he couldn’t quite catch. 

Rouge’s gaze didn’t waver. “And then,  you weren't there at all… I searched for you all night, Shadow. I could sense something was wrong.”

The words seemed to sink into the air between them, heavy. Shadow glanced away, his brow lowering, but said nothing. The faint ringing in his ears pulsed again, sharper this time, as if someone had stepped just out of sight and whispered his name. For a split second, his vision seemed to warp, Rouge’s face slightly blurred at the edges before snapping back into focus.

Rouge stepped closer, her voice low. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re hiding something.” 

Shadow’s gaze flicked toward her, but he didn’t speak. His posture changed almost unnoticeably. A muscle in his shoulder shifted once, slow, before stilling again.

Rouge caught it. She always did.

Rouge stepped closer, her voice low but steady. “Shadow… I’ve noticed you have been off lately. You’re pushing yourself harder than usual, and it shows. You look so tired.”

Shadow didn’t look at her.

“I don’t need sleep,” he said finally, his tone flat, almost defensive. “I am the ultimate life form. Rest is… unnecessary.”

Rouge’s eyes softened slightly, though her expression remained concerned. “I’m not talking about necessity, Shadow. I mean… I can see it in the way you move, the way you carry yourself. Something’s… wearing you down..”

For the briefest moment, the ringing in Shadow’s ears sharpened, and his fingers curled against his thigh before he forced them still.

Rouge’s gaze didn’t waver. “There’s something I’ve been keeping to myself.” Her tone carried a weight that cut through the noise of the crowd, and for a heartbeat, it was just the two of them in their own world. 

She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, her movements slow, deliberate. When her hand emerged, it held a necklace, the relic, its chain delicate, but the pendant unmistakable. A red stone sat in its center, faintly catching the light like a drop of frozen blood.

His eyes locked on the stone, something about it pulling at the edges of his memory. He couldn’t place it, but his chest tightened. Rouge brought the necklace closer between them, the stone turning faintly as if it were watching him back.

Rouge’s voice was quieter now, deliberate. “I don’t fully understand it myself… but I’ve seen it react before.” Her thumb brushed over the stone, and a faint glow seemed to pulse within it. She let the necklace sway slightly between them, the chain trembling as though remembering the force that once gripped it. It was like it recognized him.

“That night, when you were alone… talking to yourself, the stone started glowing and moving on its own. It… led me to you.”

She held the necklace between them, the faint glow pulsing like a heartbeat in the dim light. 

“It… it showed me where you were. I don’t know why it reacts to you, but Shadow, this isn’t just a trinket.”

“We're going to have to find out more about this thing..” he said.

Rouge nodded as her fingers curled protectively around the stone, pulling it closer to her. 

“Rouge…” Shadow’s voice was quiet, almost low enough to be lost in the noise outside, but there was no mistaking the weight beneath it.

“No one else needs to know about this.”

She hesitated, she glanced back toward the restaurant where laughter still drifted from the table.

“Hmm..” she said, voice low, “ Something’s been watching you, Shadow. Whatever it is..it already knows too much.”

Shadow’s hands clenched at his sides. Rouge watches him, waiting, then leans back as if to give him space.

“Meet me tonight at 11:00 pm. My place. I’ll show you everything up to now.”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

She turned and walked back toward the restaurant, leaving him in the quiet with nothing but the hum of neon lights and the faint echo of her warning.

Back at the table, Amy stirred the last of the ice in her drink with her straw. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting the café in warm golden tones.  The crown passed by the table with gossip and laughter, but it didn’t quite shake the quiet ache in her chest.

She tried not to glance at the corner Shadow had disappeared around, but her eyes betrayed her more than once.

“He's always like that..” Knuckles said casually, popping a fry into his mouth.

Amy blinked, caught off guard. “Like what?”

Knuckles shrugged. “Slipping off. Vanishing into the night. Y’know...’”

Sonic grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Classic. You get used to it.”

Amy gave a small, polite laugh, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Tails sat across from her, rocked his head thoughtfully on the table. Sonic sighed, seeing her sad made him feel a bit sad himself. “Maybe he just needed some air,” he offered gently, watching her. 

“Maybe,” Amy said.

She picked at the corner of her napkin, tearing at the edge without really noticing. The conversation around her started back up, Knuckles complaining about Rouge’s shoe obsession, Sonic teasing him dramatically, Tails laughing, but it all blurred together, as though she were hearing it behind a glass wall.

Normally, she would have jumped in, rolled her eyes, or laughed with them, but now her chest felt heavy.

Her thoughts kept circling back to Shadow. To the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes before leaving. That look he gave her. cold, distant, had rooted itself in her mind. And the longer she sat there, the lonelier she felt, surrounded by friends but somehow entirely alone. 

Don’t take it personally, she told herself. He’s been through so much. He probably just needs space.

But it didn’t stop the small sting in her chest. She looked down at her lap. Nobody else at the table noticed. Nobody else but Sonic. He watched her for a beat. Then, after a quiet breath, she sat up straighter and forced a little more light into her smile.

“I’m glad I still have you guys,” she said, trying to rejoin the moment.

Tails beamed. “Of course! It’s been nice hanging out like this again.”

Sonic gave her a thumbs-up. “Best idea you’ve had all week. And that jacket you got? Totally suits you.”

Amy blushed and chuckled for real this time, the warmth from their presence offering a momentary relief from the emptiness beside her.

Still, her gaze wandered, subtly, toward the doorway again.

After some time, the plates had been cleared, and the last of the drinks had been emptied. Laughter still echoed faintly from their table. Tails leaned his head on the table, eyes half-lidded, the sugar and night had finally won him over. Rouge had slipped in again, and no one seemed to notice she had left. Amy only saw her when she had settled back into the booth as if she’d never left.

Amy looked around and still didn’t see Shadow. For a moment, a small, cold thought settled in her chest: he is gone. Sonic caught Amy’s eye and watched her for a beat longer, noticing how she had crumpled the napkin on her skirt.

Amy stood, wincing when the motion pulled at that hollow feeling again, brushing them from her skirt. “I’m going to head out,” she said in a tired voice.

Sonic looked up. “You need someone to walk you back?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

He didn’t press. He only gave her a smile, then let it go, letting her step away with the rest of the evening pressing gently at her heels.

As she stepped out of the café, the warm evening light greeted her—soft amber falling across the pavement. The buzz of the city in the distance was muted here, swallowed by the wind rustling the nearby trees.

And then she saw him.

For a second, she thought he might be a trick of the light, someone who matched the posture she knew so well, but when he shifted, just the smallest motion of his shoulders, her chest folded inwards with a quiet, involuntary relief.

“Shadow?” she said, before she could stop herself.

He turned. For a beat, his face was unreadable, then his features smoothed in a way that made her breath catch. His gaze, half-lidded and unreadable, lifted when he saw her.

Amy paused for a second, surprised, then walked over.

“You waited,” she said quietly.

He gave a slight nod. “Didn’t feel right just leaving. I am, after all, living with you.”

Amy’s expression softened. She didn’t press him with questions. His presence was enough for her. She stepped closer, the soft amber of the streetlight warming her features. “I was worried,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I needed some air,” he said, voice low, almost casual, though the edge of fatigue lingered beneath it. “It was quieter out here.”

Amy nodded slowly, absorbing his words without pressing further. The warmth of his presence beside her was enough, a quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she needed until this moment. The wind picked up a little, tugging gently at her quills and his fur as if to push her closer to him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Shadow looked down at her, voice low but honest.

“Thank you, by the way.”

Amy glanced up at him, blinking. “For what?”

“…For dragging me into your  day.”

She smiled at that, warm and small. “Anytime.  I am always up to hang out with you..” She blushed slightly and smiled nervously trying to hide what she said. “And my friends.”

He didn’t reacted to what she said but he smiled to himself. And with that, they simply walked side by side, the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of the evening breeze filling the silence between them., the last colors of dusk painting the sky above them. As they walked into the night.

Back inside the restaurant, Sonic stretched his arms behind his head and noticed Rouge, who was swirling the last of her drink idly in her glass on a highchair at the bar while Knuckles was in the bathroom. He got up and sat next to her.

“You two have a good chat?” he asked casually, but his eyes were sharp. Rouge sipped her drink as if not to notice him. 

“You’ve got that ‘I-know-something-you-don’t’ look.”

Rouge smirked as she stirred her drink. “Don’t I always?”

Sonic raised a brow and smirked to himself as he leaned in closer. 

“Come on, spill it… What’s going on with him?”

Her expression softened just a little, revealing a bit of a concerned look. She stopped stirring her cup and sighed as she turned towards him. She remembers what Shadow told her earlier, but in the end, she felt like she shouldn't be the only one to know. 

“He’s not doing great, Blue.” She paused for a bit. “ You can tell, right? Even if he’s good at hiding it.”

Sonic’s grin faded, just barely. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve noticed. He’s… quieter than usual and looks drained.”

“More than that,” Rouge said, leaning forward slightly. “There’s something about him that feels off. I don't understand myself, but I do know something is wrong.”

She didn’t elaborate further, and Sonic didn’t press. But his gaze drifted to the door, wondering if Amy got home all right. He nearly forgot that Shadow was living with her. 

Rouge’s gaze followed him... “…Hope she can help him in some way,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Sonic blinked, caught a little off guard by the way she said it. 

Rouge looked at him with unreadable eyes. Then she smiled faintly, not answering directly as she drank the last sip of her cocktail and ate the cherry.

Notes:

I’m sorry I haven’t been updating chapters as quickly as I used to. I’ve had to slow down. But please know, I haven’t stopped, and I don’t plan to. This story still means a lot to me, and I’ll keep going, even if it takes me a bit more time. Thank you for your patience and for staying. 💙

Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

Summary:

Shadow and Amy spend a quiet evening together, sharing a calm, intimate moment. As they talk, subtle emotions and unspoken thoughts surface.

Amy and Shadow walked close to each other, Amy's hands behind her back, and her eyes were wandering around. She tried her best to not be obvious that she was looking at Shadow who had a slightly concerned look on his face. It was when she turned away Shadow would notice once in a while and just chuckle to himself. It was endearing to him. Then he would catch himself and turn towards the street lights as if to figure out where they are.

 The city lights glittered faintly above as they reached Amy’s home once more. Every time he arrives at her place it is like a warm embrace for him, everything feels at ease. The door closes behind them, sealing out the world and its noise.

Inside, everything was still.

Amy slipped off her shoes and walked ahead, flipping on a lamp. Warm, amber light filled the space, casting long shadows across the floor. The hum of the heater kicked on softly, filling the silence with a low comfort.

Shadow stood by the door a moment longer before moving to sit at the edge of the couch. He didn’t say a word, instead let out a sigh of relief in a way. He was getting tired of being around people. Amy's home for some reason though always feels welcoming.

Amy glanced back at him, then walked into the small kitchen to make tea. “I will go ahead and make some tea. Today was such a tiring day right?” She put on the kettle to boil while she busied her hands. She smiled at him. “Want something Shadow? I am going to make some tea and toast.” She took out some bread from the cabinet. Shadow looked up at her, “Sure. I would like some.” 

Amy nodded to him and went on to the cabinet to check what kind of tea she will choose tonight in the meantime Shadow's mind drifted.

He felt odd for some reason. He felt like today was different from what he was always used to. To how it felt, just from today, he was with people who would not even think about hanging out with and to even kind of enjoy being with them. To not feel alone.

Amy returned quietly and handed him a cup. “There we go. Be careful it is a bit hot.” Their fingers brushed for the briefest second. He didn’t pull away but she tried her best to not look at all shy. She placed the jammed toasts in front of her on the coffee table. Shadow looked down at his tea and started to drink it.

Amy sat across from him on the arm chair, legs tucked beneath her. “Hey shadow, I wanted to ask you..um..” she tightened her cup slightly as she wondered if she should ask. “I don't know if I should ask but..you okay? I saw you leave with rouge and for a good while and you look a bit well..” she asked, not looking directly at him.

He didn’t answer right away. The steam from the tea curled upward, fogging his vision a little.

“It’s okay. I have been going through something lately,” he said finally.

Amy turned her eyes up towards him at his response. She leaned in a bit curious as to what he meant by that.

The clock ticked softly in the background. Shadow leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling as if it might give him something. Amy rested her cheek against her hand, watching the way the light fell across his features. She noticed the heaviness in his eyes, yet a little softer than before.

The room settled again. The lamp’s soft glow reached the corners of the space, wrapping them both in something gentle and slow. Outside, a car passed distantly, its sound fading as quickly as it came.

Shadow’s eyes stayed on the steam, watching it twist and disappear.

“I have been asking myself lately.” he murmured. He let the words hang, his hands curled slightly around the cup. The silence stretched.

“whether or not I deserve this…if this is meant for me at all. Your kindness feels like.it feels wasted on me..”

Amy tilted her head, her lashes lowering as she took in the sorrow behind his words. She lowered her staring into the swirl of tea in her cup before glancing back at him. Her chest ached at the way he held himself, tense, as though waiting for someone to agree with him. Then, with a small breath, she shook her head. “If it feels wasted… then maybe I should tell you the truth,” she said, her tone steady but laced with emotion, “my kindness… it isn’t something you have to deserve. I give it because I can, Shadow.” The last words trembled faintly, heavier with feeling than she intended.

“You’ve been through a lot,” she said eventually, her voice softening, as if trying to draw him out of the heaviness that seemed to cling to him. “I would feel terrible if my home got destroyed.”

She leaned back a little, voice gentler now. “The important thing is… you’re here now. Thankfully you didn’t get hurt.” Shadow’s gaze flickered to her, catching the subtle warmth in her expression. The lingering stillness around him was still etched with melancholy, but her voice seemed to thread through it.

Amy smiled faintly, the gesture soft and tentative, almost as if she were reassuring herself as much as him. “I know,” she murmured, “It must feel…strange for you,” she continued, pausing as she searched for the right words. “Since you never really hang out with people, or let yourself be around them. And yet… there are people who care about you.” 

There was a flicker in Shadow’s expression that was brief. His lips twitched in a motion that could have been amusement, or maybe disbelief—he seemed unsure even of himself. For a heartbeat, it was as if some part of him wanted to respond, to say something, anything, but another part clenched tighter, holding the words back.

His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, gold glinting in the lamplight, he then shifted away as if the act of looking at her too long would reveal something he wasn’t ready to show, a hint that her words had touched him more than he wanted to admit.

The clock ticked gently in the background. Amy’s chest ached a little at the quiet, sensing the walls he had built, sensing the hesitation that shadowed even the smallest flicker of vulnerability. She waited, quietly urging, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.

She lowered her gaze to the swirl of tea, tracing the patterns absentmindedly, and let out a small, soft breath. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly. “Even if you’re not much for words.” She let out a quiet, amused little laugh. Her eyes flicked up briefly to meet his.

Shadow finally looked at her. The light caught in his eyes, gold and and deep red.

“Hmph…I guess I can forgive your excessive talking.” 

Amy blinked, a faint smirk forming. “Excessive?”

“Yes. Very excessive,” he said, pretending to glare but there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. She blushed slightly “Wait a minute..” she murmured, a soft laugh escaping despite herself.

“You’re… smiling at me,” Shadow said, voice flat but carrying the faintest edge of curiosity.

Amy peeked up at him, eyes wide, then looked away quickly. “I… am not,” she stammered, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

“You are,” he said, leaning back slightly, arms crossed.  I suppose I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

“And you,” he replied, he gave a small smile, “are far too easy.”

Amy laughed softly, warmth spreading through her chest. Maybe I just like seeing you actually smile. she said quietly to herself.

Amy laughed under her breath. “Guess we’re both bad at this.”

A small pause hung in the air, the quiet hum of the heater filling the space between them. Then, unexpectedly, a silent chuckle escaped from Shadow, low and restrained, but unmistakably there.

Amy froze for a heartbeat, her cup halfway to her lips, eyes wide. He… laughed? The realization struck her, and a warmth spread through her chest, a mixture of surprise and something softer she hadn’t anticipated. She was amazed that she made the ultimate lifeform laugh. For a brief moment, Amy felt a quiet joy bubble up inside her.

The clock ticked gently in the background as she opened up a bit more like she always does. Hours passed almost unnoticed as they talked. Shadow listened, as he always did, letting her speak without interruption. She talked about trivial things first, le the time she had to take care of cream or thetime she tried to make cookies with tails, Then, slowly, her words drifted toward Sonic. 

“Oh, and Sonic…” she began, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her tone was light, but layered with warmth, admiration, and a touch of fond exasperation. “He’s always so...free. You never know what he’s going to do next. And even when he’s reckless, it’s… somehow endearing.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I just… can’t help it..” she said with a small smile.

Shadow’s red eyes flicked toward her from time to time, and for the briefest moment, a small, unfamiliar feeling twisted inside him. He could feel it as a tightening in his chest, a slight clench in his hands resting on his knees. He was not used to this feeling but it was a sharp stir in his chest each time he would hear it Sonics name come out of Amys mouth. Her words, full of affection, rang clear and open, as though she had no hesitation in giving her heart on a silver platter.

Listening to her speak, Shadow felt the world narrow. Still, he stayed silent, letting her words wash over him like a tide. She spoke of him with such easy fondness, a tender ease that made it feel like breathing. And in that ease, in the softness of her tone and the subtle light in her eyes, Shadow recognized a truth that pricked at the edges of his heart: this was something he could never have.

 He couldn’t deny that a small part of him ached at the thought, but alongside it… the part that had long since accepted solitude, the part that feared connection, felt almost grateful just to be near her at least, even if she didn’t belong to him. It was a strange, bittersweet comfort, like standing in the sun while knowing the shadows would never fully recede, but it was enough for now. Almost enough to soften the ache, almost enough to make the loneliness feel bearable.

The warmth of the tea lingered between them, a quiet thread of comfort in the stillness. Amy placed her empty cup down on the table with a soft clink, the sound gentle in the hush of the room. Her movements were slow, deliberate, almost as if each gesture carried the weight of the late hour and everything they had shared. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and Shadow caught the faintest hint of her scent, and it tightened the ache in his chest just enough to make him shift slightly on the couch.

“It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Amy said softly with a quite yawn, glancing at the clock. She stretched lightly. “I think I will be heading to sleep.” She rose from her chair and began walking toward her bedroom, each step quiet on the carpeted floor.

Shadow shifted slightly, his thoughts remained fogged.

“Amy..”

He opened his mouth, then stopped.

Amy noticed immediately. Her eyes lifted, following his gaze, and she stopped halfway to her door, her heartbeat quickening ever so slightly. A small crease formed between her brows, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

His fingers laced tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression.

Amy watched the way Shadow’s hands tighten. His fingers flexed faintly, like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. Or didn’t trust them yet.

He inhaled softly through his nose, then exhaled as if the air itself was reluctant to leave him.

“I…”
The word slipped out like it didn’t mean to.

Amy didn’t move.

Shadow’s gaze at her.

“There’ve been nights…” he began, voice low and unsteady, then faltered, and then stopped completely. His jaw tightened slightly, a subtle tension running through his shoulders

The weight of it sat between them.

Amy waited. Her eyes lingered on him curious of what he wanted to say. Shadow’s mouth parted slightly, breath catching in his throat. For a fleeting instant, something haunted flickering behind his eyes, but whatever was rising never quite surfaced. He closed his jaw again, just a small tightening.

Instead, he said, “I have been having trouble sleeping again...”

He didn’t look at her when he said it. This was not what he wanted to say.

“I wanted to know if you have any other remedies to help me sleep.” 

Amy’s brows lifted, surprised by his choice of words. “Oh..oh,yeah I think I do..” she said at last, her voice gentle, but edged with a faint note of curiosity she couldn’t quite mask. A smile tugged at her lips as she folded her arms loosely, thinking. “I figured you were having trouble sleeping. Rouge told me you were always on missions.”

Shadow blinked. Slowly. His shoulders dipped just a fraction, the smallest crack in his guarded frame. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t realized Rouge had told her. He was thinking of a quick answer.

“And at one point,” Amy added softly, “you were working nonstop for three months.”

Shadow stilled. His eyes narrowed, just faintly, and for the briefest second a flicker of annoyance burned through his composure. Rouge, I swear… one day I’ll— He cut the thought off, forcing it back down.. His jaw set, then released, the only sign of the irritation he crushed back beneath his usual composure.

“Is that why you look tired all the time?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” he murmured, low, almost reluctant. The word carried an edge of weariness that no amount of restraint could quite conceal.

Amy gave him the faintest smile. She leaned back on her hands, eyes half-lidded in thought and heavy with the late hour. Her gaze wandered briefly toward the window, as if weighing her words, before settling back on him.

“Hmm… I might have something that can help you,” she said softly, with quiet sincerity.

She rose, crossed the room, and pulled a small bottle from the shelf. Twisting off the cap, she released a soft, floral scent into the air. Lavender. Holding it carefully, she stepped toward him and set it on the coffee table. 

“Shadow,” she said gently, kneeling just below his line of sight.

 Shadow’s ears twitched. He inhaled the aroma, he was so familiar of it, but something about it made his chest tighten.

“I want you to try something with me. Just a little… aromatherapy.” She tilted her head, offering the faintest smile. “Close your eyes… just for a moment. I’ll guide you through it.” 

Slowly, she reached for his hands, guiding him forward. His eyes remained low towards her, he didn’t pull away. 

Shadow hesitated. It felt a little foolish, but still, he followed. His eyes slid dark shut.

“Take a slow, deep breath in,” she whispered. “Hold it… and let it out, gently.”

Each breath seemed heavier than the last. For a heartbeat, his shoulders eased, his mind quieted. The lavender wrapped around him like a soft veil and yet he struggled a bit to follow his breathing rythmn.

She watched his breaths even out. Then, with a small hesitation, she added quietly. 

“There’s something else that helps, sometimes. When we sleep, our minds wander. If we don’t guide them, they get… lost.”

She smiled faintly. “So, we can give them something better to wander toward. Try thinking of something nice, Shadow. Something that makes you feel safe, or happy. Even small things. Sometimes, before bed, I think of my garden, or the sound of rain. 

Shadow cracked an eye open, skeptical.

His gaze lowered, doubtful. “Happy…” The word felt foreign on his tongue. His jaw tightened as though the very idea was a bit difficult to imagine.

Amy’s voice softened further, warm but never pressing. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just… one thing. Even if it’s small.”

Shadow closed his eyes again. He decided to try for real this time. Through vast voided in his mind a flicker came across his thought: the faint warmth of sunlight brushing his fur, the rare stillness of a morning long ago. Someone stood there in the haze of his mind, soft and distant, their outline haloed by light.

Maria?. 

The name rose to his lips without thought, trembling at the edge of his mind. His chest ached as he reached for her, desperate to hold onto the figure that seemed to carry all the warmth and safety he’d been denied. For a fleeting instant, it felt like peace, like home. But then the haze wavered, the light bending, and the figure’s outline began to change before his eyes.

Not Maria…but Amy.

His breath caught. The vision left him staggered, his heart unsteady, confusion clawing at the edges of his calm. For an instant, he didn’t know whether the betrayal came from his memory… or from himself. And then, like all his rare moments of solace, the image fractured, swallowed by the harsher memories that never let him linger.

His breath hitched; his shoulders locked tight.

Amy noticed. She gently tightened her hold on his hands, grounding him. “It’s okay if it’s hard,” she whispered, steady but soft. “Just keep breathing. I’ll be here while you try.”

Shadow exhaled slowly, the sound more like surrender than relief.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at last, voice low, roughened with strain.

Amy tilted her head. “huh?”

But Shadow’s gaze stayed down, fixed on some unseen weight he couldn’t lift.

Shadow’s shoulders tensed further. “I…I don’t know if this is even something I should care about. I don’t know if I can ever shut it off,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “The thoughts… they just don’t stop. Even when I try to sleep…”

The words surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud to her. 

He hesitated, jaw flexing as he struggled to articulate it. “…Everything. The mistakes, the people I’ve hurt…. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Amy didn’t respond immediately since she was afraid that if she said anything that she might lose hearing something shadow will say. He never open up like this before. Without a word, she leaned slightly toward him, placing her knees tucked beneath her as she rested against the cushion beside him. 

“Maybe it’s me,” he said, voice low. “Maybe it’s always been me.”

Sadness bled into his tone, and though his eyes stayed closed, as if to avoid seeing her reaction, something inside him urged him to keep speaking.

“I tell myself I’m doing what I’m supposed to. I don’t waste time. I do everything right. I try to be useful. And still… something always...” He faltered, exhaling sharply. “Something always goes wrong. Someone always gets hurt.”

Silence stretched before his next words.

“I promised someone a long time ago that I would give people a chance to be happy,” he admitted, teeth clenched as if holding back the anger and frustration threatening to rise. “How can I do that… when I can’t even make myself happy?”

The silence that followed felt heavier than the words themselves. Shadow’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper, more to himself than to her. “And lately… I’ve started thinking maybe I am the cause of it all. Maybe the darkness follows me… because I let it.”

“What?” Amy asked softly with a drowsy ache.

His fingers twitch faintly.
“The dark,” he murmured. “It just... stays with me. No matter where I go..”

Amy didn’t respond right away. His fingers twitched slightly on his lap, tension radiating through every line of his body. Her gaze softened, and without thinking, she reached out, brushing his hand.

 “You’re not made of darkness, Shadow,” she said gently. “Even if it feels like it’s always around you… that doesn’t mean it’s part of you.”

Shadow kept his eyes closed, letting her words settle, though the weight in his chest didn’t ease. The quiet hum of the room pressed around them, and for a fleeting moment, he felt exposed

Amy shifted slightly, letting go of his hand, rubbing one of her eyes, and letting out a small, soft yawn.

“Sorry,” she whispered, voice quiet, tinged with sleep. “We’ve been talking for a while now…”

“I think…” Amy blinked slowly, her lashes brushing her cheeks, half-asleep, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “I think you just carry too much alone is all.”

he murmured finally, his voice low, almost uncertain. “I… I don’t usually… like talking about these things.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But… I like it when you do.”

She sounded like she wanted to say more, but the words slipped away, fading before they could form. Her head laid down by his side, pink bangs brushing her cheek, casting a soft shadow across her face. Her breathing slowed, steadying, rhythmic, like the pulse of the room itself.

Shadow sat still, unsure what to do. The room had settled again into a delicate quiet. Only the faint hum of the night seeped in from the darkness outside, a soft backdrop to the stillness.

Finally, he opened his eyes, letting them rest on her. Amy slept, curled slightly into the cushion, her breaths slow and even. The sight of her, so calm and unguarded, softened the edge of the intrusive thoughts that gnawed at him. The words she had spoken lingered faintly in his mind, echoing like a melody he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, chin cradled in his hand. His voice emerged almost unconsciously, a whisper meant more for himself than for her.

“Maybe..your right… it’s not my fault…”

He rubbed at his arm, the motion slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the confession pressed down on him, making each movement laborious. A moment stretched. The quiet tick of the clock punctuated the emptiness.

A tiny noise broke the stillness, a soft, breathless sound from her, a murmur that made the room feel impossibly intimate.

“Shadow…” she whispered in her sleep, her voice trailing off like a feather brushing past. He couldn’t help the small, almost shy smile that tugged at his lips. He expected silence to follow, the return of solitude he was so accustomed to.

And then-
A whisper, impossibly faint, so close it seemed to drift directly into his ear.

“…It is your fault.”

His chest went cold.

The air drained from his lungs. His heart clenched painfully, and he couldn’t immediately move. Every thought tumbled at once.

He turned toward her slowly, his eyes wide, mind racing with disbelief. 

 “...

…

…What?”

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! 💕 I’ve been thinking about doing some fanart for this AU, but I’m a little stuck on which scenes would be the most impactful to draw. If you have any favorite moments from this chapter or the story overall that you’d love to see illustrated, I’d love to hear your suggestions! Your support and encouragement mean the world. 💖