Chapter Text
It started small. So small, in fact, that Shadow simply brushed it off. He coughed into the crook of his elbow and saw a yellow rose petal. Shadow didn’t get sick; his immune system would annihilate any sort of illness the second he was exposed. Sometimes, though, he’d get something in his throat and need to cough. A very normal bodily function. So, he just assumed that’s what happened. The petal looked fresh, too. Its edges were soft, vibrant, and looked almost alive. It stood in stark contrast to his midnight black fur.
Still, it must’ve somehow gotten stuck to his arm, and he missed it. They had walked past a florist, after all. Occam’s razor, he mused. The mere notion that he was the one to cough the petal up was almost humorous.
This incident just so happened to occur while he’d spent the day with Amy. She’d invited him to go shopping downtown with her, and for a reason he couldn’t name, he accepted. He always did; he seemed to have an inability to ever say no to her.
Amy talked enough for the both of them, and he’d carry the bags, listening intently to her endless stream of consciousness. She mentioned her friends, new recipes she wanted to try, what she was reading, and of course, Sonic.
Amy squealed with delight upon saying the blue idiot's name. “Sonic’s coming over to my house for dinner! I’m making chili dogs. It’s not exactly the most romantic meal—”
Shadow accidentally cut her off by coughing. The action escaped from his chest before he could stifle it. It had almost been like the mere mention of Sonic’s name caused him to choke.
“Sorry, continue,” he murmured, a bit surprised by the sound that just came from him. He brushed the petal off of him.
“Are you ok?” Amy asked, immediately concerned.
“I’m fine.”
With a determined resolve, Amy's red boots came to a halt, and she stepped closer, guiding Shadow aside with an insistent nudge. Pouting, she placed the back of her hand against his forehead, her brow furrowing in worry. The simple reassurance of “I’m fine” was clearly not enough for her.
“Are you sure? You feel really warm!”
“I run hotter than the average mobian,” Shadow grumbled, secretly relishing even the most minor touches from her. Something in him always enjoyed it when she fussed over him. It was admittedly deeply embarrassing.
Amy’s lips formed yet another dissatisfied pout. Cute. Yet, she accepted the answer and moved on. Because Shadow did not get sick. Everyone knew that.
The next time it occurred was when Amy had excitedly shared that Sonic had finally asked her out.
She practically danced beside him; there was a bounce in her step Shadow had never seen before. Amy's smile lit up her face. It was almost like she was glowing.
She clasped her gloved hands together. “Can you believe it? Shadow, Sonic asked me out! On a date, a real one!” She squealed.
Shadow raised an eyebrow, though the scratchy sensation building in his throat made the action feel strained.
“A real one?” Shadow repeated flatly. There were a few times… Ok, more than a few times Amy had mistaken an innocent hangout as something more. Shadow would hate to see her be disappointed. Again.
“Yes! Can you believe it? He actually asked me, Shadow! We’re going to Twinkle Park this Saturday, and he said it was his idea! Isn’t that amazing?”
Honestly? Some part of him couldn’t believe it.
Yet, Shadow couldn’t deny the jealousy gnawing at him. But he could never just outright say something like that, because it didn’t matter. A “real” date with the faker was all Amy had ever wanted, and who was he to ruin that for her?
“I’m… happy for you,” Shadow said at last, the words heavy on his tongue. He prayed she missed the bitterness in his voice.
For once, Amy didn’t seem to notice the uncertainty in his tone. She almost always caught it. For now, she was too lost in her own world. He had to admit, he liked seeing her this way. Her joy was almost contagious. But his own reciprocation of the feeling was swallowed by an aching sense of jealousy.
It felt like he was having trouble breathing.
Shadow had been a shoulder for her to cry on more than he could count. The source of those tears had almost always been Sonic.
Sonic had always left her behind. Sure, he’s gotten better over the years, but still. He had a history of treating her like she was nothing but a burden for just wanting to help. Just how many times had he made her feel useless?
Amy seemed to have forgotten about all that. No matter what, she loved unconditionally, following her heart. It made the ache in his chest only grow sharper, as if mocking him.
“I’m so excited!” she chimed. “I already know what I’m going to wear. Do you think Sonic would like that mint green dress I have?”
Shadow tried to respond, but a sudden metallic tang filled his mouth. The ache in his chest flared violently, shredding upward like thorns tearing through soft tissue. Before he could stop it, his lungs seized, and a harsh cough tore out of him.
Lavender petals tumbled into his gloved palm.
His breath caught. Horror anchored him where he stood, staring down at the delicate fragments in his quivering hand.
“Shadow?” Amy’s voice went soft, threaded with concern. She stepped closer, reaching for his arm. “Are you okay?”
He coughed again, quieter this time, forcing the sound down into his chest so she wouldn’t notice how wrong it was. He curled his fingers tight, crushing the petals into his palm before she could see.
Really, he should have been ok.
“You’re burning up,” she whispered, already slipping into caretaker mode. Without waiting for him to protest, she guided him toward a nearby café, her small hand firm on his wrist. He wished she would hold his hand.
“Amy, I—”
“Nope, sit,” she said, brooking no argument as she pushed him gently into a chair. “You’re pale, Shadow.” Her brows drew together in worry as she studied his face, and before he could protest again, she was already at the counter, ordering something hot.
Shadow stared down at his closed fist beneath the table, knuckles tightening around the crushed petals hidden there. The faint sweetness of them clung to his tongue, curling around the metallic bite of blood.
A fluke? A hallucination? Shadow stared at the crumpled petals, unsure what to make of them. The only thing he could do was ignore it. He would pretend this hadn’t happened, because something like this simply didn’t happen. It couldn’t be real. He tightened his fist around the petals again, hoping that when he opened it next, they’d somehow be gone.
Amy came back moments later with a steaming mug, setting it in front of him before sliding into the seat across from him. “Here,” she said softly. “Just sip it slowly, okay?”
He stared at the drink without touching it, struggling to force his breathing steady. Amy’s green eyes were wide, full of worry. It didn’t make him feel better. It made his chest tighten further.
“I’m fine,” he lied, his voice hoarse.
Amy frowned. “Shadow, you’re not fine.”
She reached across the table, covering his free hand with hers. He wanted so badly to return her touch, lean into it.
Whatever this was, he told himself, it couldn’t be real.
But the sweetness on his tongue lingered.
Unfortunately, it became impossible to ignore the next time. The last straw came the next time Shadow saw Amy.
“Sonic asked me to be his girlfriend!” Amy’s whole body vibrated with joy. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands twisting together as she could barely contain it all. It was like she couldn’t believe it. Shadow couldn’t either.
The sensation that blossomed in his chest was very much real. He stumbled back, clutching his chest as the thorns of longing and jealousy dug sharper than ever.
“That’s… great,” he managed, but his voice broke on the last word.
Amy didn’t seem to notice, too lost in the moment. She was still talking, giddy as she rambled on.
“I’m so nervous, though! I want everything to be perfect… I’ve never been someone's girlfriend before! Do you think he really meant it? That he wants to date me?”
Deep down, the selfish part of him hoped the faker didn’t mean it. That was a thought he could never allow himself to indulge in. He wasn’t sure he could take it, watching her cry… Besides, who wouldn’t want to date her? She was like the sun, bright and warm, and no matter what, rising at the start of every new day.
“I’m sure he meant it.”
What else could he say?
The moment she left, Shadow bolted for the bathroom, lungs seizing as though lined with thorns.
A violent cough wracked his chest, forcing him to his knees. Crimson petals burst from his mouth, wet and curling, tumbling into the toilet bowl. More followed, torn loose with every convulsion.
Shadow prided himself on his dignity, yet here, hunched over the toilet, it seemed he’d lost it. He heaved as blood escaped from his throat. He gasped for air, desperately trying to expel whatever else was growing from inside him. Each heave scraped his throat raw. He clawed for air like a drowning man.
Denial was no longer an option. Something was wrong. Deeply, catastrophically wrong.
Dragging himself upright, he stumbled to his computer. Fingers flying, he tore through medical databases, scientific journals, and even old Mobian folklore archives. The deeper he read, the colder his mind became, dissecting every detail with surgical precision.
Then he found it. The name.
Hanahaki disease.
Flowers blooming inside the lungs. A physical manifestation of unrequited love.
The symptoms matched perfectly: the coughing, the petals, the blood, the constant, sharp ache in his chest…
Shadow stared at the screen, and for a moment felt nothing at all.
Felt nothing about the fact that flowers were growing within his lungs, blocking his airways because of unrequited love. Shadow the Hedgehog was so pathetically in love with Amy Rose that he developed a disease that would have already killed the average Mobian. How fucking embarrassing was that? A literal physical reminder that she didn’t love him back was festering within his lungs.
Physical, undeniable proof.
Yellow roses often represented friendship. He had choked up a literal reminder that he was in the friend zone. Lavender was often associated with devotion. Ironic, his favorite flower. Finally, red roses were associated with love and passion.
Of course. Of fucking course.
Fate had a way of being exceptionally cruel to him, and yet, some small (even more) pathetic part of him found comfort in it.
The flowers were proof.
Proof that he only accepted Amy's invitations because he didn’t want to disappoint her. Proof that he secretly enjoyed carrying her shopping bags. Proof that he looked forward to hearing her ramble about recipes, books, and whatever happened to be occupying her thoughts that week.
Proof that he loved her.
Shadow would make sure she’d never find out.
If she ever learned the truth, she would feel guilty. She would apologize for not loving him back… She would look at him with that awful, heartbroken expression she wore whenever she thought she'd hurt someone. She would blame herself for feelings she couldn't control and offer apologies for something that wasn’t her fault.
Shadow refused to do that to her.
Amy was happy. She had gotten the one thing she’d ever truly selfishly wanted for herself. Shadow would sooner choke on every last flower than take that away from her.