Archive of Our Own

Amy says Sonic’s been acting really rude lately. Tails bites his lip every time he makes a snarky remark, but he never says what he’s thinking. Knuckles senses that something is wrong, but he doesn’t ask any questions. He doesn’t even speak to him—instead, he gives him plenty of space. Maybe too much space. Rouge is nowhere to be seen, and it’s probably his fault, but Omega is looking after her. Vanilla says hello when she runs into him, though she’s always in a hurry, too cautious around him. Cream always wonders why they’re leaving so hastily. Others go about their business—he barely bumps into them. That’s fine. He hardly feels like saying hello, anyway.

He doesn’t blame Amy. Or Tails, or Knuckles, or Vanilla. He doesn’t blame Rouge. Sometimes, he has moments of clarity where he wonders what the hell he’s doing. What’s wrong with him? Why did I say that? Why am I being so callous? They can’t explain it, either. At least Amy asked him what was behind this sudden change in his behavior. Sonic won’t shed any light on it, and no one seems to reach the right answer on their own, but that is hardly a surprise.

Months have passed. They think they weren’t close.

They think he and Shadow weren’t close.

Sometimes, he wishes it had been that way.

(And he hates himself so much for thinking that, in a way that he’s never hated himself before.)

── .✦

“I want us to move in together.”

Sonic leans forward with a swift swing. He sits down and studies Shadow. His expression is composed; not a hint of a reaction. He gazes at the sky with all the attentiveness he can muster. This way, his red eyes look like another star—the prettiest one. The one that shines the brightest, like a sun adrift.

“Sure, why not?” Sonic replies, shrugging. Shadow’s face remains impassive. “Just a heads up, that’s gonna suck. I’m more of a nomad than anything.”

Finally, Shadow’s lips tighten. His hands, clasped over his stomach, part. Shadow leans forward, using his hands to support himself as he sits up. Their gazes meet.

(The gaze that shines bright wherever it goes, leaving shadows in its wake—perhaps that’s where he got his name.)

“I don’t usually spend much time in one place either,” Shadow explains softly, “but after so many years living the way I do, I want a place to come back to. One I can call my own. That I can call ours.”

── .✦

“You’re still here?”

The voice—that voice identical to Shadow’s, echoing from the darkness, the one Sonic is completely certain is a hallucination—complains for the eighth time in the last two hours. Sonic just wanted to watch a movie and, hopefully, pass out without too much trouble.

Can’t a guy rot on the couch while watching TV anymore? Maybe it’s punishment from the great beyond for raiding a dead man’s apartment. For invading the place, because the former owner can’t complain like he used to. To tell him to get lost. To be careful eating ice cream from the tub because if Sonic dares to spill even a single drop, he’ll cut off his quills, or burn his eyelashes, or cut off his penis, or–

“Sonic.”

He grumbles.

“Maybe I need some shut-eye,” Sonic says aloud, annoyed. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s missing. A little sleep. As if he hasn’t been getting enough of that lately.

He sets the container on the coffee table. It’s spotless except for a coffee mug Shadow left to wash later. (It’s already later, much later, but he still hasn’t washed it.) He doesn’t really care if it melts. When the ice cream gets to that point, Sonic will snort with feigned entertainment and say, in a self-deprecatory way, ‘Hey, man, I get it. I’m right there with ya.’

He wonders if Shadow would find it funny. Sometimes, it was hard for him to conceal how much Sonic’s cockiness amused him—he’d hide a smile behind his fist and look away. He’d roll his eyes and scoff, but it was always followed by a tiny chuckle that meant the world to Sonic.

He can’t keep thinking about this.

He lets gravity pull him into the sofa and wraps himself in a blanket that still smells like Shadow, even after all this time. It’s as if he were still there.

“Shit.” He presses his closed eyes with the heel of his hand. His teeth grind; he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. With how often it comes back, sometimes it feels like he lives forever with this sensation: with a heavy chest and labored breathing. “Shit.”

It stings behind his eyelids. His gloves get damp. He didn’t cry when he got the news, nor when they went to identify the body. He didn’t cry at the damn funeral, so why? Why here? Why now? His fingers curl, and he bites his lip so hard he ends up breaking skin. All that’s left is a metallic aftertaste.

“Stop doing that.” The voice commands him. It’s so familiar, so much so that a sob escapes his lips.

“Leave me alone.” He answers the void—it’s complete nonsense, but what else is left? With a sudden movement, he covers his head with the blanket. At least life is merciful enough to let him catch a few minutes of sleep.

── .✦

“I didn’t think you would say yes,” Shadow admits. Sonic responds with a sly smirk.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s probably the closest thing to settling down that I’m ever going to ask of you.”

“I guess, but…” Sonic shrugs. “You’re not asking me to marry you. Or have kids, or to spend the rest of my life cooped up in a house. We’re just going to keep our stuff in the same place.”

Shadow stares to the side. “When you put it that way…”

“I didn’t think you’d ask me for anything like that,” he reveals bluntly. He flashes a crooked smile. “While we’re on the subject.”

Shadow frowns. “I’m not a coward.”

“I never said you were.” Sonic grins. It doesn’t last—his expression turns solemn.

── .✦

“This is a joke,” Sonic says breathlessly. His jaw is clenched. “A really bad one.”

“And who would prank you like this?” Shadow snaps, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. He doesn’t look impressed.

Sonic raises his arms in aggravation. “I don’t know! The universe? Would Eggman dare to go that far?”

“I don’t think that’s the Doctor’s style. He respects you, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sonic stands up. He ignores Shadow’s blanket sliding to the floor. Shadow glares at him, but he really doesn’t care. He can only pace back and forth across the room. Thinking. Weighing his options. Gaia. What the hell is going on?

“Y’know what. I’m hallucinating,” he declares sternly.

“You’re not hallucinating.”

“That’s exactly what a hallucination would say.”

Shadow growls and Sonic startles. His hallucination is eerily accurate to the way he remembers Shadow, down to the tiniest detail: the way his nose wrinkles, his pursed lip, his brow knitted together.

(So much so that it hurts.)

Sonic puts his hands to his head, incredulous. Okay! He admits it! Sonic is depressed. Enough that he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but not enough to have self-flagellating hallucinations. Seriously?

This is so unfair.

“What can I do to convince you that you’re not hallucinating?” Shadow pricks the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sonic bites the inside of his cheek. He thinks it over. What is his mind trying to accomplish with this recreation? Why is it so adamant about making him believe it’s real? This situation isn’t just unfair, it’s growing increasingly confusing.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” He asks, crossing his arms. “A ghost?”

“I suppose,” Shadow replies and then shrugs. “I have no physical form, at least.”

Sonic’s throat tightens. That would explain why his hand passed right through Shadow’s cheek when he tried to cup it. In that moment, he thought it was a heartless dream: Shadow was hovering over him, face so close to his own, and that was the first thing he tried—only to be denied the chance to touch him.

(As if that were news.)

“What are you even doing here?” Sonic spits, hostile, with anger that has begun to wear at his friends’ patience. “You died. This isn’t a place for the dead.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he snorts sarcastically, with weary apathy.

(Maybe that’s it—he’s exhausted, even if he can’t do anything but sleep.)

Perhaps the message his mind wants him to understand is that he has to get out of here. To get some fresh air. Or to scream at the sea until he’s hoarse. Being cooped up has never done him any good, and this is the territory of a dead man.

The delusion calls his name, but Sonic ignores it.

(It’s so unfair.)

── .✦

“I know you don’t want to admit it,” he says, “but you used to be afraid to approach others, didn’t you?”

He didn’t want closeness. That’s why he barked and bit and screamed at the top of his lungs.

And, really, who could judge Shadow? No one suffers a loss like that and comes out unscathed. Shadow is afraid of bonding with others—afraid of growing fond of them—because eventually it will all end, and he can’t expose himself to that misery again. He doesn’t want to feel that searing agony. Loneliness, at least, is familiar; you can get used to it. Loss, on the other hand, is something no one wants to get used to.

“I’m glad you were able to ask me for something like that.”

It might be corny, but it’s honest. Shadow finally deigns to offer him a tiny half-smile. “You do have quite a bit of influence over others, hedgehog.”

── .✦

“Hello?” Sonic calls out after opening the door and peeking his head through the crack. It’s dark in here. His voice echoes with a desolate resonance as no one has set foot in this part of the world for a week or two. At least, not since Sonic fled in a panic.

He wanted to stop thinking about it—about what he saw. He really wanted to. He wished and longed for it with all his might, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get that ghost out of his head. No amount of ‘you imagined it all’ would be enough to silence the untamed thoughts that reigned in his mind. They became the rulers of his night and day, a thorn in his side he couldn’t remove.

He couldn’t stop wondering, what if it wasn’t just my imagination?

What if that was Shadow? The real one.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, either. That, more than anything, was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want to get excited, to have poisonous, heavy hope coursing through his veins.

“Shadow?” He calls out again. He waits a second. Two. A whole minute. It feels like an eternity.

There is silence. After all, this is the territory of a dead man.

His heart breaks into pieces.

In the end, shattered hope hurts as much as a stake driven into his chest.

Sonic snorts, almost laughing, mocking his own naivety. He turns around and starts to close the door when the voice he longed to hear rises from the ashes.

“Leaving already?” Shadow sounds playful and confident. He’s provocative, as if he wants to start a fight.

Sonic spins on his heel with a nimble movement, eyes wide and shining. His heart is racing.

There he is—the apparition, sitting on his sofa.

Shadow clicks his tongue, amusement turning to displeasure, a scowl on his lips.

“You ran off like a coward,” he reproaches unscrupulously. Sonic frowns and spits out his reply after slamming the door behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve reacted with more class after my dead boyfriend popped up in his apartment. It wasn't exactly logical of me to assume I was imagining things, was it?”

He’s bitter, snarky, and uncontrollable. All of his retorts have been for a hot second. (Even if they burn his tongue, even if he regrets that immediately.)

He doesn’t back down or apologize. That would only make things worse, in his opinion. Regardless, Shadow doesn’t acknowledge it or take offense. He hums and crosses one leg over the other, lost in thought.

(It’s bittersweet—it’s the first time he’s referred to Shadow as his boyfriend.)

“Why did you return, then?” Shadow continues his attack. His voice is soothing, yet the content is relentless in a way only Shadow can be. “If I’m just in your imagination.”

Sonic doesn’t answer, stunned, helpless. It’s a good question. Why did he return? Why try, given the very real possibility of emerging more than hurt? Why let himself get close when he knows how much this affects him?

He lowers his head as he balls his fist. Shadow’s expression remains firm.

“I don’t know,” he replies laconically, looking away.

Shadow hums again.

“You don’t? Even I know the answer,” Shadow asserts. He stands up and walks toward Sonic. The footsteps of his heavy skates don’t echo as they used to. “But you—” He points a finger at him, pressing it against his chest. He still doesn’t feel it. “You, of all people, have forgotten what you stand for.”

── .✦

“Oooh?” Sonic chirps, gaze fiery as he invades Shadow’s personal space. The shameless mischief makes Shadow roll his eyes, although he seems amused. “What was that? Have I influenced you in some way?”

“For better or for worse,” Shadow replies, expression mirroring Sonic’s. He plants a kiss on Sonic's lips, which Sonic welcomes with delight.

When they pull apart, Shadow’s expression grows somber. He lowers his head. Sonic watches intently.

“Sometimes I feel like I have no time left, and yet I have eternity ahead of me,” Shadow whispers—Sonic hears his bleeding heart. “The thought that I’ll be abandoned in the end has become old now, and no one knows what the future holds for us. I can’t predict when or how you’ll all leave, or if I’ll perish, too, so thinking about it has become meaningless. I shouldn’t let it torture me anymore.”

“You? Perish?” Sonic cuts him off, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t age, but that doesn’t make me indestructible,” Shadow explains earnestly, “My own Chaos Energy could disintegrate me if I overexert myself. It’s not impossible.”

Sonic’s voice buzzes. He raises his hand to stroke Shadow’s cheek with his thumb. Somewhat selfishly, he says, “I want you to live a very long life.”

“Even if you’re no longer here?” Shadow challenges, “Even if I might forget you?”

“No matter what happens,” Sonic declares with unwavering resolve, “I don’t want you to limit yourself like that. Not again.”

It’s a selfish wish, and he knows it, but it’s his wish regardless: he doesn’t want Shadow to shut himself off again. Even if he eventually forgets his current friends. Even if he falls in love again.

And it makes him jealous. How could it not? The idea of Shadow in someone else’s arms makes Sonic tighten his fist and shake it at the sky like a grumpy old man. But that doesn’t matter right now.

“Anyway,” Sonic hugs him, pressing Shadow’s head to his chest, “You’ll be mine as long as I live.”

“You’re a selfish bastard,” Shadow scolds, returning the hug. There’s no bite to his words.

Sonic grins.

Maybe he is.

── .✦

Sonic thought he’d be the first to go. He’s sure the others were under the same impression.

It wasn’t something he actively thought about, but the idea was there, lingering in his friends’ minds and his own like a fact set in stone. It was unspoken, it was unshakeable, even somewhat logical. Sonic is reckless; he goes wherever his feet take him, downplaying risks and hardships. He walks a tightrope without hesitation because, plain and simple, that’s just who he is. No one forces him, no one stops him.

Sometimes, it seems like he puts his life on the line just for the sake of it, even if his friends don’t entirely approve. They live alongside and care for a person who, at any moment, would happily run toward his own demise if it would save the world—strike that, if it would save a single person.

Maybe that’s what made him overconfident. There was a certain peace in the fact that his friends were ready for anything, and whoever dies first doesn’t have to pick up the pieces.

Shadow’s gaze is piercing; he doesn’t back down from Sonic’s silence.

He sighs and chuckles. It’s a sad laugh, tinged with tiredness.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I forgot,” he says dryly. He scrapes the ground with his shoe. “I don’t feel like myself.”

This version of him—wrathful and combative—is so foreign. So… unlike himself. He gazes at his reflection in the water and doesn’t recognize who’s there, yet somehow he acknowledges that it’s the skin he inhabits.

“I understand,” Shadow replies. He tries to take Sonic’s hand, but his hand passes right through it. If that hurts Shadow, he doesn’t show it. “More than you think.”

“Ha, is that so?” Sonic asks, sounding repulsed. By himself more than by Shadow, but he doesn’t bother to clarify. Sonic brings the hand Shadow tried to take to his chest. He rubs his index finger with his thumb.

He wonders if this Shadow isn’t his Shadow—if, ultimately, he was right and it’s all his imagination—because the Shadow he knows responds to disrespect with his words and fists. This ghost allows Sonic to spit out all the venom he has, gaze full of understanding. That reaction is new; Sonic’s vitriol even seems to provoke a faint smile as his lip curls with nostalgia.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Shadow murmurs and Sonic raises an eyebrow, thinking he might have misheard.

“What?” Sonic scratches the inside of his ear with his pinky; Shadow shakes his head.

“Anger changes you,” Shadow explains, “just as much as pain. Most of the time, they go hand in hand.”

Sonic snorts. “Why would I be angry?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“It was an accident,” Sonic hastens to reply. Maybe too quickly. Too automatically. It was on the tip of his tongue. It doesn’t sound honest. The pain and heaviness in his chest return, as well as that bitter taste in his mouth. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Did it seem strange to you that I was furious when I woke up?” Shadow asks, tone menacing, “Did you find it irrational?”

“Of course not!” Sonic shouts, out of breath. He’s getting worked up—he has to pace back and forth to burn off that burst of energy or he’ll explode. “It’s… different! She was murdered—it was unfair! And you…”

It was an accident. It really was. The failure in the nuclear reactor was, according to the news reports, a random event. Unlikely, but not impossible.

Even if it was just a cover-up and someone did fuck up, it was still just an accident. Nobody wanted this to happen.

And Shadow sacrificed himself to save many.

“Every death is unfair, hedgehog,” Shadow says. His voice remains steady, calm, yet Sonic’s blood is boiling. “An accident, an illness, a murder, natural causes… A life is lost, after all. It’s reason enough to be angry.”

“It doesn’t matter, Shadow! Who would I be angry at?” Sonic demands to know. He’s at his wit’s end. Shadow begins to follow him as if he were his own shadow. He won’t leave Sonic alone.

“With yourself,” Shadow is right on his heels. Sonic doesn’t stop moving. “For feeling this way. Because you think you could have done something to prevent what happened.”

“I’m not—”

“With the others, because you feel like the world is crumbling around you, but they carry on as if nothing happened,” he continues, cutting Sonic off. His breathing has become shallow and ragged. When he turns to walk away in the opposite direction, he comes face to face with Shadow. His gaze is filled with something—adoration, perhaps, something gentle and kind. “And me. You’re also angry with me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sonic scoffs. His smile reflects horror and his voice leaves his throat shakily. “Why would I be angry at you?”

“For leaving you.” Shadow replies with crushing ease. It's the most obvious thing on the planet, but Sonic can’t accept it. “Because I had to go, while you’re still here.”

“That wasn’t your—” Fault, it wasn’t Shadow’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, no matter how much Sonic keeps thinking about it. “How could I be…?”

He brings his hands to his eyes. This is too much.

“It won’t hurt me if you admit it,” Shadow concedes. “I’m already dead. Those things cease to matter.”

“But I…” Sonic stops. He gulps thickly.

What Shadow says is true, though. He knows no one could have prevented it, that no one can see the future, but it still feels unfair. He feels anger toward himself because he took Shadow for granted when he knew how stupid that was—life isn’t eternal, that much is true for everyone else, but, in his mind, that wasn’t the case for Shadow. He feels angry at everyone else because they were able to move on while he’s stagnant, and using that word to describe himself almost feels unfathomable. 

Lastly, it’s not something he thinks about explicitly, but it is true. He’s furious at Shadow—for leaving him when it seemed like they had their whole lives ahead of them. Because they never moved in together. Because he can no longer hug him or kiss him or cuddle him or sleep in the same bed as him or, shit, have sex with him. Their time together slipped through his fingers and he didn’t see it coming at all.

“It’s very selfish,” Sonic guiltily admits after he takes a deep breath. He feels calmer for some reason. “Wanting you to come back, wanting you by my side…”

“Those desires don’t cease to be selfish,” Shadow confirms. He returns to his sofa. Sonic hesitates, but sits down beside him. Shadow looks at the mug he left behind the day he died. “But what are living beings, if not their selfish instincts?”

Sonic huffs. It’s barely a response, but he feels worn out. He doesn’t want to get into philosophizing about the nature of existence, the ego, or whatever.

Sonic leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

He’s so selfish.

── .✦

“And if we move in together,” Sonic breaks the silence. They’re lying on Shadow’s bed—Shadow has his eyes closed, trying to nod off, but Sonic has other plans. “What are we going to tell everyone?”

“About what?” Shadow grumbles.

“About us,” Sonic shifts into a sitting position. “I think we’ve neglected to tell them we’re together.”

“You neglected to tell your friends,” Shadow scolds him, finally opening his eyes. “Rouge knows. Omega does, too, but he deletes it from his database every time he finds out because he doesn’t care.”

Sonic’s eyes widen in surprise. Shadow told them? Seriously?

“I thought the first rule of your secret club was, I don’t know, to maintain secrecy?”

At least, he thought that was the reason they were so at ease with each other. All three of them are reticent—for different reasons, but they value their privacy above all else. Unless Rouge is actively investigating something, intrusive questions don't usually fly.

Shadow sighs.

“We all hide things,” Shadow reasons, “but not everything has to be a secret. I wanted them to know.”

“I see...”

“The difference is that we don’t hide the fact that we’re keeping things from each other.” Shadow’s tone suddenly turns stern. He narrows his eyes. “You think you’re being slick, but you aren’t. Your friends most likely already figured out that you’ve been hiding stuff from them.”

── .✦

“When are you leaving?”

Sonic opens his eyes. The light filtering through the blinds tells him that dawn has broken.

Shadow is perched on the edge of his old bed, staring intently at the intruder.

Sonic yawns and stretches after pulling himself up. He’s still groggy. He rubs his face to clear the dust from his eyes. He feels gross.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks. It’s supposed to be a playful quip, but given the circumstances, he sounds like a pathetic, lost puppy. It makes him so angry.

Shadow tilts his head. He studies Sonic in complete silence, which makes Sonic’s stomach churn with nerves. Finally, the ghost sighs. Sonic moves to join him on the edge of the bed.

“You’ve been here a long time.” Not that long, in his opinion. It’s been a couple of weeks since he left Shadow’s apartment. Maybe it’s only worrisome because it’s Sonic they’re talking about, but he doesn’t feel like debating that. “Don’t you have things to do? Places to be?”

Like you usually do. Unspoken words, but Sonic has a hunch that Shadow has them on the tip of his tongue. He has enough decency not to utter them—after all, Shadow is the one who insisted that pain and anger can change someone.

(Sonic begins to wonder if this is something you can move past or if all that’s left for him is to survive it.)

“I’m…” Sonic taps his index finger nervously on the mattress. “On vacation.”

Shadow narrows his eyes, unimpressed. “You're always on vacation.”

“What else do you want me to say?” Sonic huffs irritably, perhaps also distressed.

The truth is, there’s a lot left unsaid here. Many questions remain unanswered, mostly from Shadow to Sonic. Shadow has always been fairly strict. With others, Sonic could get away with a lot without being scrutinized. Shadow, however, never gave him that same leeway. He didn’t give it to him in life, and he won’t give it to him in death.

(When do you plan on letting me go?)

“At least take a shower.” Shadow exhales softly. “You stink.”

Sonic glares at him. “You can’t even smell me.”

“I don’t need to.” No, he really doesn’t. Sonic can’t remember the last time he stepped under a stream of water. “And don’t even think about going back to bed after you shower. You have to change the sheets, and then you’re going to make yourself something to eat.”

Sonic groans in displeasure. His face lengthens even more.

(He also can’t remember the last time he put anything solid in his stomach.)

Sonic takes a quick shower. Or, he wants to believe it was a quick shower—the reality is that he stood there staring at Shadow’s shampoo for a long time, assessing how painful it would be to use it and have its scent linger, following his every step.

“How are the others?” Shadow asks as Sonic dries his quills with a towel. He feels like a living being after showering. He hates that.

“You don’t know?”

“You’re the only one I’ve seen around.” So, the ghost can only appear in Shadow’s apartment. Sonic bites his cheek as he wonders, somewhat masochistically, if Shadow has been watching him for a long time. Why did he only speak to him now? It’s pointless to ask. “And I already know how you’re doing.”

Sonic frowns, lips forming a disgruntled pout. “Thanks.”

Shadow ignores him. “I’ll ask again: how are the others?”

“They’re doing just great,” he replies automatically, as if it were a rehearsed answer. Shadow notices, judging by his intense gaze. Sonic gives in. “…I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone in a while.”

Shadow hums. “You’re isolating yourself.”

“The only thing I manage to do when I show up is make them worry.” Sonic’s grip tightens around the towel. He hurts them and says horrible things to them. “They don’t need that.”

“You never stopped pushing them away,” Shadow reproaches, although his voice sounds subdued. It’s an issue that used to anger him. Sonic’s attitude drove him up a wall—because Sonic could get away with anything, but, if Shadow did the same, it was reason enough to fear he was brewing something, “Even though you said you’d be more honest.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“When, then?”

“I don’t know, I…” Sonic’s lips press into a thin line. His heart skips a beat. “Do you know what I told Rouge after your funeral?”

Shadow’s eyes shoot wide open. That caught him off guard. Sonic can’t feel triumphant about it.

“What?”

The corners of Sonic’s mouth turn up in a bitter smile. It might seem sadistic, but all he can feel is a deep regret gnawing at him from the inside.

“She said she knew how hard this must be, and she was here to support me,” Sonic begins with overwhelming composure. “She said that if I needed to talk, I could count on her. She wanted to count on me, too.” Although Rouge, because of her line of work, doesn’t allow herself to show vulnerability to others. She never lets her true intentions—much less her true feelings—come to light. Shadow knows this. Perhaps better than anyone else in the entire world. “I told her she was imagining it all, that it wasn’t my problem if she was secretly in love with you and that she should stop projecting. She left with Omega. I don’t think anyone knows where she’s hiding right now.”

Shadow’s face is still as a picture, a ghost watching another ghost. If he weren’t dead, his face would grow pale with the sheer terror Sonic’s words instill in him. He looks downright appalled.

That was the beginning of his downfall, wasn't it? When Rouge cornered him to talk and tell him she understood his pain, Sonic decided to deny that pain. He lied to the liar, and she knew it. She knew it all too well. She knew what he and Shadow shared because Shadow had told her. Despite this, Sonic blew her off. He scorned her good intentions when he knew she wouldn't offer them to just anyone.

All because he didn’t need help.

(Is it that he didn’t need help or that he didn’t want help?)

Shadow doesn’t say a single word. Briefly, his eyes fills with contempt before he turns away and vanishes completely. Sonic can’t feel a shred of remorse.

(Maybe because that’s all he feels anymore.)

── .✦

It’s no surprise there’s friction in their relationship, given how stubborn and proud they both are. They don’t always see eye to eye.

It’s not the first time the subject has come up, and it probably won’t be the last.

“I’m not hiding much,” Sonic deflects casually, though the defense is rather weak, far less elaborate than on other occasions. He shrugs one shoulder. “Not telling them about us was a coincidence, and they don’t need to know everything.”

“You might be right,” Shadow concedes, though the certainty in his voice doesn’t waver. Sonic doesn’t think it bothers him that he failed to mention their relationship—Shadow is a private person, after all. There’s something else going on here that’s bothering him. “But these things tend to pile up.”

“What are you getting at?” Sonic raises an eyebrow.

“You think it’s only small things, but there will come a day when something grave happens and you won’t be able to tell them.”

── .✦

“You keep doing the same thing,” Shadow says after hours of silence. Sonic lowers his head and looks at his hands. He’s been sitting on Shadow’s couch for several hours, not really feeling like doing anything.

Sonic felt a crushing emptiness at the thought that he’d made a colossal mistake this time. In that moment, he wanted Shadow to leave him alone, because deep down, Sonic knew he was in the wrong. He knows he’s isolating himself. He knows he’s taking it too far. The easiest way to get Shadow to back down was to reveal just how low he’d sunk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sonic replies curtly, staring at Shadow’s empty coffee mug. Shadow hums in response.

“There’s something that’s always bothered me about you,” Shadow begins after several seconds of stifling silence and suspense. His expression is neutral, to Sonic’s relief; he no longer wears that look of disappointment and revulsion. “You always told me not to shut myself off from others. You wanted me to trust. Even when you and I thought I’d outlive everyone else, you told me to keep my heart open.”

“What’s your point?” Sonic exhales, drained.

“You always try to handle things on your own.” Shadow reproaches him. Sonic clicks his tongue.

“That’s not true,” he scoffs. “They’ve saved my ass time and time again. I know they’re strong.”

“You know what I mean.”

His teeth grind with embarrassment. He knows. He’s trying to play dumb, and he knows it all too well.

“They don’t need to see me like this.”

“Did you decide that?” Shadow crosses his arms and furrows his brow. Sonic chokes. He lowers his head.

Why can’t he tell them what happened? Is he afraid their perception of him will change? He thought those things weren’t relevant to him, but the mere idea of having to explain to them how much all this affected him twists his stomach into knots.

Shadow sighs.

There's so much compassion in his voice. Sonic knows that Shadow wasn’t a cruel person, even though many chose to perceive him that way out of fear. He didn’t exactly help himself either—he was sharp and abrasive with the temper of a lion, but he never hesitated to help when someone needed it.

(Because Sonic lived alongside and cared for a person who would run towards his own demise if it would save a single person, even if he didn’t want to see it.)

“You and I are too much alike. In a way that made me deeply uncomfortable.” Shadow sits down beside him. He doesn’t budge when he notices Sonic tense up. The implication is that this is something he’s thought about more than once, even though it’s the first time Sonic is hearing about it. “I’m selfish, too. Very, very selfish.”

Sonic watches him furtively, out of the corner of his eye. From this angle, his red eyes look like another star—the prettiest one. The one that shines the brightest, like a sun adrift.

It will never stop taking Sonic's breath away.

(And it hurts so much.)

“Why do you say that?” Sonic whispers.

“I recognize this pain. I know the world is falling apart, and it paralyzes you, but… Selfishly, I want you to be the same person you’ve always been. The same person I admire so much, even when I didn’t want to admit it,” Shadow prays. Sonic’s gaze waters. “I want you to keep your heart open for whatever comes.”

“Even if you’re no longer here?” Sonic asks shakily. “Even if I have to move on? Even if it no longer hurts one day? Even if I fall in love with someone else? Even if…” Sonic gasps for air, out of breath; his chest aches. “Even if I forget you?”

“No matter what happens,” Shadow declares with devastating, iron resolve.

Shadow’s bell suddenly rings, and Sonic jolts, butt lifting off the seat. He stares at Shadow with wide eyes, but Shadow nods once with a calm, loving smile. He vanishes like foam.

Sonic heads for the door and meets Amy at the entrance. Her lips seem to have gone dry when she sees him. She opens her mouth and closes it again, out of place like a fish out of water. She stares at the floor.

Sonic notices the moisture in the corners of his eyes and wipes it away with his glove.

“I…” She clears her throat. “Can we talk?”

Sonic expression softens.

(“Selfishly, I want you to be the same person you’ve always been.”)

It’s strange for Sonic to be on the other side of his desires, but here he is, when he was so sure things wouldn’t turn out this way.

It hurts, and it stings, but it’s no longer his wish. It belongs to Shadow now.

(Just as Sonic’s heart stopped belonging to him.)

“You’re a selfish bastard,” Sonic whispers so faintly that Amy can’t hear him. She stares at him curiously and leans in closer, but Sonic shakes his head, “Never mind. Come in.”

── .✦

Sonic lies on his back and stares at the ceiling of Shadow’s room. He figures Shadow’s speaking from experience, and it’s true that Sonic is always nagging at Shadow to trust others more.

Finally, he sighs. “I’ll talk to them soon. I promise.”

── .✦

“How did you know I was here?” Sonic asks after sitting down at the kitchen table and resting his cheek on his hand. Amy fiddles with her thumbs—she’s nervous, but she takes a deep breath and furrows her brow with that same resolve that’s so familiar to Sonic.

“Rouge told me you might be here.”

Sonic’s eyes widen; he pulls his cheek away and sits up straight. “She’s back?”

“She is.” Amy nods. She pulls up a chair and sits down next to him. “And I’ve decided enough is enough. Sonic… What’s going on with you?”

Sonic looks down at his hands. It’s almost imperceptible, but they’re shivering.

He can’t avoid this any longer, can he? Shadow knows it won’t be immediate, but he wants Sonic to be himself again. To be the same person Shadow admired—the same person he once loved, when he was alive.

And Sonid did promise to talk to his friends. Once. Some time ago.

This had to happen.

Besides… Loneliness is starting to become familiar. He didn’t want that for Shadow. It’s not hard to guess Shadow doesn't want that for him, either.

“I never told you guys, but…” Sonic begins, “Shadow and I were, uhm. Together.”

It all happens in the blink of an eye, so blurry it feels like running at supersonic speed. The dam breaks, and everything that’s been building up inside him gushes out like a high-pressure jet. A devastating tsunami. An erupting volcano. All the promises, the plans for the future. That he couldn’t even cry at the funeral and, even days later, he was still in disbelief. It only really sank in when Sonic found Shadow’s favorite flowers and thought about taking them to him, only to realize that he wouldn’t be able to. Amy hugged him, cried, took his hand and squeezed it, hugged him again. She asked why he hadn’t said anything sooner without letting him answer. She promised him that everything would be okay. That, no matter what happens, they would be there for him.

(He knows it’s true—maybe that’s why he didn’t want them to know. They aren't going to give up on him even if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, like he can’t give anything back in the moment.)

“I’ve gotta apologize to Rouge,” he says breathlessly. He’s too shaken up—more than he’s ever been.

“Come with me.” Amy takes his hand and stands up, pulling him gently. “Tails and Knuckles are waiting for me outside. We’ll go with you.”

“They’re—?” But it’s been hours since they started talking. Amy pulls him harder; Sonic almost stumbles as he’s pulled out of the chair. He goes from being in shock to feeling confused and scared. “But, I—”

“Please, Sonic.” Amy stops and locks eyes with him. “Let us be there for you.”

Shadow wants him to keep his heart open to whatever comes.

And, really, there’s only one way to find out what's going to happen.

Maybe Sonic forgot what he stands for—that doesn’t mean he can’t learn again.

(Why open his heart? Why try, given the very real possibility of emerging more than hurt?

Because why live, if he’s not going to do it to the fullest?)

── .✦

“What are you doing today?”

“I have work later.” Shadow gulps down what’s left of his coffee and stares at the empty mug with narrowed eyes. He seems to decide he’s going to wash it later, because he sets it down on his coffee table. “Unless I get assigned something in the field at the last minute, I just have to do paperwork.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It relaxes me.” Shadow snorts. “But yes, I admit it is pretty boring.”

Sonic smiles contentedly.

“I’m going fishing with Big,” Sonic says, standing up and stretching with a grunt. The pop in his back feels really good. “You should come with us sometime.”

Shadow flashes a smile without looking at him. “Maybe.”

“See you next weekend, then?”

── .✦

“I can’t believe you left Shadow’s apartment in this state,” Rouge says, though her voice lacks harshness. There’s a touch of nostalgia in it. Her eyes gleam as she runs her fingertips over the surface of a dresser. “He was such a clean freak.”

Sonic shrugs. “I have a feeling he would have understood.”

After all, Shadow’s spirit never once scolded him for not cleaning up after himself.

“He would have,” she says, breezily. “He was more compassionate than he seemed, wasn’t he?”

He was.

The two of them had a rather long chat. Rouge still hasn’t fully forgiven Sonic, but she’s working on it. In the end, they decided it would be a nice gesture to arrange Shadow’s apartment exactly the way he liked it. He was meticulous, if not picky, and Rouge and Sonic were probably the only two people who were aware of every one of his quirks, from the way he made his bed to the way he organized his drawers.

Rouge tells him that some cultures believed cleaning allowed souls to pass on to the afterlife—a way to set them free, in a way.

Sonic hasn’t thought much about what will happen when this is over. He doesn’t think he wants to.

Shadow never rubbed it in his face, but he knew Sonic was dragging out his goodbye. Now, he has no choice: his friends haven’t left his side, and Rouge didn’t want to waste a moment on this final gesture for her best friend, stealing the opportunity from Sonic to return here and lock himself up until the end of time.

He has no choice, but life is unfair that way. He doesn’t have to like it. He doesn’t have to deny it, either. Shadow made that very clear.

“How’s that?” Sonic sets a vase with Shadow’s favorite flowers on the coffee table and puts his hands on his hips, admiring a job well done. “Isn’t it just the way Shadow liked it?”

“You forgot to wash his mug,” Rouge points out. “I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t take too long, Blue.”

Sonic nods. Rouge leaves him to it after a wink. She doesn’t say it, but she’s giving him this last opportunity to say goodbye to Shadow.

With his heart racing, he picks up the coffee cup and takes it to the kitchen. When he stands in front of the sink, he whispers something.

“What’s going to happen now?”

“I’ll leave,” Shadow replies without missing a beat, as if he has been watching from the start, “and you’ll move on.”

“Man,” Sonic pouts, smacking his head against the border of the sink. “That sucks.”

“It does,” Shadow chuckles softly. “I liked the gesture.”

“Shadow?” Sonic lifts his head and gives Shadow a wide, bright look. His eyebrows arch and his lip trembles. Shadow is taken aback, too.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Sonic rasps. A single tear slides down his snout. “Always.”

Shadow smiles at him. Sonic turns the faucet on. He washes the mug under the running water, quickly but determinedly, even though the water burns his hands, even if the feeling of eternity ahead of him while he’s running out of time is overwhelming.

He dries the cup with a towel and puts it back in its usual spot. He doesn’t point out that, when he leaves the apartment, there’s no trace of Shadow left.

── .✦

“Sure,” Shadow mumbles through clenched teeth. Sonic isn’t sure exactly what’s wrong with him, but he doesn’t think it’s anything serious. “We… We’ll see each other next weekend.”

Sonic waves goodbye and heads for the door.

“Sonic?” Shadow calls out. Sonic stops short and turns around. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Shadow says. They don’t say those words to each other very often. For them, actions speak louder than words, but Sonic figures it’s nice to hear them once in a while. “Always.”

Memento vivere (noun/latin). “Remember to live.”