Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Seven Years Before

“Mrs. Crenshaw?”

“Yes?”

“Can I please have Shadow Robotnik for checkout?”

Every eye in Shadow’s fourth grade classroom turned onto him, some curious, others just following the lead of their peers. 

The intercom system was truly an anomaly to him; at his old school, if there was a query from the office pertaining to a specific student, they would call the teacher on the class phone. At Green Hill Elementary, however, the announcement blared over the old, crackly speaker hanging in the corner just above the whiteboard, loud and clear for all of the students to stick their noses in each other’s business. 

Mrs. Crenshaw, a middle-aged Kinkajou with round glasses, stopped writing on the marker-stained board and cast her gaze up to the box in the corner. “I’ll send him up shortly!” she called back, and a static sound blinked out a moment later, indicating the office lady having turned off the communication line. She set her marker down and turned to Shadow, who was looking at her from his front row seat with a hesitant expression, his pencil still hovering over the worksheet.

“Do you remember where the office is?” she asked him softly, lowering her voice in an attempt to avoid eavesdroppers (to no avail, obviously;  all twelve students heard her just fine).

For a moment Shadow thought about saying no, that he couldn’t really remember where anything in the school was after just one week in attendance, but with the watchful eyes of his classmates he felt too scrutinized to admit it. Instead he just nodded a little, waiting for her permission to gather up his belongings. 

When he was waved off, he collected his notebook and then paused at the worksheet, torn between taking it with him and leaving it on the desk until Mrs. Crenshaw plucked it from his paws herself. “You can finish it tomorrow,” she said, not unkindly. “I’ll go over it with you in the morning, alright?”

On his way down the hall, his mind flip-flopped between trying to recall the route to the front office and wondering why he was being signed out of school at all. Today wasn’t anything special; it wasn’t his or Maria’s birthday, and he didn’t remember anything about any of their relatives visiting.

What could it be? And so early in the day– it wasn’t even lunchtime! Maybe Gerald was taking them out to Maria’s favorite place again? His stomach rumbled at the thought. He could really go for a sandwich and some fries right now. 

A sudden, small flash of something hopeful filled his heart, and he quickened his pace. Maybe they were going out for a treat to celebrate Maria’s first day of school, or something like that! Gerald had promised her something special, after all, for getting better.

The hallway broke off into a wider corridor, and the smell of pencil shavings and citrus from the custodian’s cart was familiar enough from his first week that Shadow knew must be going the right way. He pricked his ears, looking down both ends before taking a left, passing the lunchroom and veering off down another hallway that sloped down slightly, and at the far end near a set of double doors he saw two signs, the first reading Nurse and the second stating Front Office. 

He quickened his pace, his tiny shoes pattering on the hard floor as he came to a halt outside the second door. He peered into the window framing the wood. A hen sat at the front desk, typing away at something on the computer while she spoke to a hedgehog woman leaning on the counter. 

He reached up for the handle, using his shoulder to push open the heavy door, and stepped over the threshold. He saw no sign of Gerald, but a familiar, ragged, gray coat caught his attention. Ms. Genevieve was standing in the corner of the office, her beige cardigan drawn around her shoulders and her jaw set as she flashed her eyes toward Shadow. She was a wardrobe of a woman, broad and rickety and heavy-footed, demanding space in the room like she wanted everyone to know she was there. 

She hurried over to him, faster than necessary for a lady nearing her seventies, and reached out a thick paw to corral him. “Come on,” she murmured, surprisingly delicate. The hedgehog woman by the counter moved out her way at the same time.

“Why are you picking me up?” he piped up accusingly, ears flattening. 

She grabbed the handle of his backpack in her paw, using it to guide him toward the door. She didn’t answer his question, just hurried him along. He planted his feet a little more firmly on the ground in protest, but the woman’s grip was strong and insistent, and he was only nine years old; he wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of solidity.

There was a row of three chairs by the exit, one of those seats occupied by another hedgehog that looked to be his age, except in contrast to Shadow’s dark quills, he was a vibrant cobalt blue. His emerald eyes pierced into him as he passed, and Shadow suddenly remembered that he’d seen the kid at recess and in his P.E. class last week. He was the fastest kid in the grade, which was apparently some sort of principle that made someone more appealing than the average person. It had been like that at his old school, too.

“Going home?” the kid asked, leaning forward in his chair a bit as the dark hedgehog passed. He had dirt on his jeans and a fresh Band-Aid on his cheek, and there was a missing tooth at the front of his smile. “What for? You’ll miss recess!”

Shadow’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Miss another chance for Jet to try and pick at him? How terrible. 

“Sonic.” The hedgehog woman standing by the front desk finally spoke, angling her body so that she was facing them both. “Sit quietly, please. You’re going to be missing recess, too. Probably for the next week if I had to guess.”

Shadow thought the woman must be the kid’s– Sonic’s– mother. Their fur matched near identical.

Sonic shrugged, turning his smirk back onto Shadow, but he didn’t speak again. 

Genevieve gave Shadow one last tug, and Sonic left his sight behind the door frame. The last thing he saw were his legs swinging back and forth, feet hardly grazing the ground, like he hadn’t a care in the world. 

He wondered, at last, what Sonic must have done to end up in the office with his mother. He hadn’t even thought to ask.

Genevieve’s bug car (Beetle? He was pretty sure that’s what Maria called it) smelled like mothballs and degreaser. It was the first time he’d ridden with her, and the scent was thick and made him feel a bit faint. She had a plastic shopping bag hanging from the back of the passenger seat in front of him filled with yarn, packaged taffy, and scotch tape. 

“Jenny, where’s my grandpa?” His voice drifted up from the backseat. He leaned forward far enough that the child lock on the seatbelt clicked into place, causing him to have to strain against his bind. 

“Ms. Jenny,” she corrected him tersely, never taking her eyes off the road. 

“Where’s my grandpa?” he repeated, kicking his feet a little against the floorboard. “Ms. Jenny,” he added, as an afterthought. Maybe minding her would get him the answers he wanted.

She was silent for a moment before she gestured to the plastic bag in front of him. “Take a piece of candy, dear.”

His eyes flashed toward the bag, flitting over the colorfully wrapped taffy inside. “I don’t like taffy.”

“Don’t whine,” she snapped, taking a sharp right at the stoplight. “Take one.”

“Hmph!” Shadow crossed his arms defiantly, looking out the window at the passing trees. When he knew she was glaring at him in the rearview mirror he stuck his tongue out. 

After only a moment, however, he realized they were passing the road to the street they lived on. “Where are we going?”

He could hear Ms. Jenny’s impatient grunt from her place behind the wheel. She let the silence stretch between them for a couple heartbeats. “Take a piece of candy,” she repeated, but before he could protest she continued. “I need you to chew on something so you don’t interrupt me. This is important, do you understand?”

Her tone was urgent, laced with something final that he couldn’t quite name. Shadow clamped his mouth shut, the retort sliding back down his throat defeatedly. Was she about to tell him something disastrous?

So, reluctantly, he dug through the bag hanging in front of him, struggling against the locked seatbelt. “My seatbelt is stuck,” he complained as he withdrew his hand with a yellow piece of taffy pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“It’s what you get for stretching it so far,” Ms. Jenny hissed. “Eat, but chew it slowly and listen.”

She waited until about twenty seconds of silence had gone by before continuing. “Something has happened, but I don’t want you asking your grandfather a bunch of questions that will send him off the rails. He will explain everything to you when he thinks he has to.”

Banana flavor clung to his mouth like wax drying on a surface as he listened. 

“You will be staying with me tonight, but we’re going to see him first, okay? Don’t pester him. Don’t stress him out even more than he already is. Just be quiet and listen to what the adults tell you, okay?”

She made him promise. A promise riddled with banana and fib. He was nine; nine-year-olds ask questions when they want answers, no matter how inconvenient.

Barring the drive from his old town to Green Hill, Shadow thought he’d never been in the car for longer than he was with Ms. Jenny. He felt restless in the backseat, and since Genevieve wasn’t a big talker–and also insisted she didn’t want him reading in her car for fear of vertigo and possibility of him puking up his breakfast everywhere–the only thing he could do to occupy himself was run through half the bag of taffy and mindlessly stare out the window.

He sat up a little straighter when their surroundings became a little less wooded, the sides of the road instead studded with buildings–restaurants, corner stores–but then they turned into a large lot with a big sign out front that passed too quickly for him to read.

A tall, ivory building loomed over them, casting a long shadow across the concrete in the midday light. The parking lot was filled with cars, most of them cluttered toward the front rows. There was an overhang stretched out above them as they drove up, and it was only then that Shadow realized where they were. 

Ms. Jenny parked the car in a spot close to the doors, swiping a blue placard out from her glove box and fixing it to her rearview mirror.

“What’s that?” His mouth was full of green apple. 

Genevieve snorted a little, and for a moment he thought she might be amused for the first time since she’d picked him up from the school office. “It’s like a parking pass,” she explained. “It tells people that I have a bad back and need a spot near the front.”

He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know you had a bad back.”

“Because I don’t make it everyone else’s problem.” She clicked off the engine and swung the driver side door open. “Let’s go. Bring your bag with you.”

The hospital smelled sterile and uninviting. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been inside a real hospital before– just the clinic back home when he needed his shots, as well as once a year during flu season, and it was nothing like a child’s clinic. The ceiling hung high above his head, the walls were bare save for a few health posters that he couldn’t quite understand, and everyone he walked by didn’t even spare him a glance; they all hurried down the halls like they were late for something important. 

The elevator was new to him, and the loud whirring made him want to curl into a ball and hide. Ms. Jenny at least had enough sympathy to not say a word when he gripped her cardigan with one hand, wrinkling the fabric in the process. 

One look out the window when they exited the sliding doors told Shadow that they were up very high, and his hand clenched a little tighter around Ms. Jenny’s sweater, hurrying along behind her as she walked briskly down the hall. 

The corridor was narrower than the ones splitting off from the ground floor lobby, with white-coated doctors and nurses with clipboards weaving through in a methodical manner that stated professionalism and urgency. Genevieve brought him closer to her as they passed up a cubicle with a few scrub-laden Mobians mingling and typing away on their computers. The entire place screamed adult to him in an unpleasant and stifling way, like he wasn’t meant to be here at all.

“There’s your grandpa,” she murmured to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Further down the hall, Gerald was sitting in a chair outside one of the rooms, rubbing his temples with one hand. He looked up as they approached, stood, and in a rare act of paternalism, reached out an arm and gathered Shadow toward him. He was pressed into the side of his grandfather, and while part of him wanted to squirm away, there was a sudden weight that settled in his gut at the sounds of shifting bedsheets and beeping machinery coming from inside the room behind them. 

A sudden, dire thought plagued his mind. Maria wasn’t out here with them.

Was she inside the hospital room?

“Thanks for bringing him,” Gerald said gruffly to Ms. Jenny, and she just nodded, peering inside the room that was obscured from Shadow’s vision by the old man. 

“How is she?”

Gerald mumbled something that Shadow didn’t quite catch. He was too busy trying to look around them into the hospital room. He was brought back to their crackly voices when Gerald took him by the shoulder, guiding him to the chair he had been currently perched on. He sat him down, taking his backpack and setting it gently on the floor beside them. “Shadow,” he began imperatively, kneeling down so he could look his grandson in the eyes. 

Before he could continue, however, Shadow blurted, “Where’s Maria?”

Ms. Jenny hissed beside them–probably ready to remind him what she made him promise– but Gerald spoke before she had a chance. “She is very ill.” His eyes were glossy. “The doctors don’t know exactly what it is yet. I’m still waiting for them to tell me everything they’ve learned. But for now, I just need you to sit here and mind your manners, okay? Ms. Jenny will sit with you.”

While Shadow was a bit adverse to spending even more quality time with the irritable pallas’s cat, the thought of sitting alone in a cold, sharp-scented hallway made him a bit more inclined to agree, so he just nodded. 

Gerald offered him a fraction of a grin, rubbing the top of Shadow’s head with his hand. “Good boy.” He stood, bracing one hand against the arm of the seat for balance. 

And then it was just him and Genevieve once more. She sat in the only other chair beside him, her thick coat brushing against his arm in such a way that made him forget her temper and want to lean into her. When he looked up at her with concerned eyes, she reached down and tucked one of his quills back into place on his head. “I’m not much for comfort,” she said in that serrated voice of hers, but to her credit, it sounded like she was attempting to soothe him. “Go on and get your book out, boy.”

He read it two and a half times before Gerald reemerged from Maria’s room.

—

Dear Maria,

I still want to come visit you I promise. I miss you! Grandpa won’t let me and he don’t talk at the table like you so it’s boring.

“You make me sound like a dull, old man,” his grandfather huffed good-naturedly, peering over Shadow’s shoulder.

Shadow threw his arms over the notebook paper that he had sprawled out on the dining room table, shielding Gerald’s eyes from his letter. “Don’t read!” he half growled, half whined. “It’s for Maria only.”

“I know it.” The old man straightened up a bit as he continued on his way to the living room. “And it’s ‘doesn’t talk’. What are they teaching you at that school?”

Shadow waited for him to settle into his recliner before he continued writing, pointedly ignoring the grammar correction. 

Grandpa says the doctor doesn’t want me to come see you or something like that, and that’s just mean. He said you were too sick just like last time I asked, but it’s been two whole weeks! If I get sick too I can just stay home from school. I don’t see the big deal. Anyway, get better soon! It’s too quiet here and I have so much to tell you from school.

Your Brother, Shadow

Part of him felt guilty for lying about all the news he was waiting to share with Maria upon her recovery, but he couldn’t help it. He would say anything to make her well again, even if he had to fib a little in the process. The sound of her coughing still plagued his thoughts.

The letters had apparently been her idea, according to Gerald, and Shadow had kicked himself for not thinking of it first. If he couldn’t see her in person, the next best thing was to put all of his feelings down on a page. It was a bit easier than talking; he’d never been that great at conversation.

He folded the paper and stuffed it into an envelope, licking the sticky flap and pressing it down to seal it. He slapped it a few times for good measure, hopping down from his seat and trotting toward his grandpa. He sheepishly held it out to him. 

Gerald looked at the blank envelope through his reading glasses, grabbing it gently from Shadow’s paws. “I’m visiting her tomorrow morning after I take you to school. I’ll give it to her then, okay?” 

Shadow nodded, shuffling his feet on the ground. He lingered a moment longer, managing out a quiet, “Thank you,” before scurrying away toward the stairs. Then, over his shoulder he yelled, “Don’t open it!”

Present Day

“Here we go! One chili cheese dog with fries and a chocolate shake.”

Shadow scowled at the abomination sitting on the plate across the table from him. The hot dog that Sonic had ordered was piled high with chili and cheese, not counting the liberal amount of crinkle-cut fries sitting on the tray next to it. He could hardly even see the actual hot dog underneath it all. 

Their waitress was a soft-looking cat with large ears and wide eyes, eager to please the only customers in the shabby, old diner. She cast her bright gaze onto Shadow. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

He shook his head and brought his glass closer to himself. “Just the water, thanks.” 

The woman nodded and left them quietly, leaving Shadow to regard his companion with an air of judgment. “You sure you don’t want onions and relish on that plate as well?”

Sonic was seemingly unaware of the sarcasm dripping from the other hedgehog, just happily sipping his milkshake before tucking into his food. “You crazy? You don’t need anything on a chili cheese dog except for what’s already in the name.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Shadow wondered if he perhaps missed some sort of rule of thumb that stated such a thing. 

Shadow drummed his fingers on one thigh impatiently, eyeing Sonic as he took one unnecessarily large bite of his food. “Not hungry?” He asked around a mouthful of beans and meat.

Shadow wrinkled his muzzle. “I ate at school.”

“So what? That was, like, ages ago.”

Lunch had actually only been a few hours earlier. Shadow had collected his blue counterpart’s number during their encounter outside the cafeteria and messaged him later to arrange a meeting to discuss the letter. Sonic had suggested The Shack; a dingy diner near the middle of town with blue and white checkered floors, peeling wallpaper, and a “Smoking Section” plaque from the 1900s still nailed to the wall.

Even though he was certain tobacco use wasn’t actually permitted inside nowadays, Shadow thought he could catch a whiff of cigarettes every time his eyes skimmed over the metal sign.

“This place doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the quality of the food,” he finally decided. 

“I only come here when I know Vector’s working in the back,” Sonic insisted. “He’s the best chef around but nobody would know unless they actually came during one of his shifts.” 

Shadow ignored his last comment, instead setting an old composition book on the table that he’d slid out of his backpack. He uncapped his pen, scribbling in the corner of a fresh page to get the ink flowing. “What do you like about Amy?” he began easily, ears pricked.

Sonic looked across at him, cocking his head to one side. “Wha d-oeigh-”

“Swallow first.” He tapped the end of the pen on the table impatiently, averting his gaze from the bits of meat falling out of Sonic’s mouth.

The blue hedgehog finished his mouthful, wiping at the corners of his lips with the back of his hand. “What do I like?” His face flashed for a brief moment with something searching, like he was actually thinking about it for the first time. “Uh… well, she’s pretty and sweet.”

The sound of pen on laminate ceased. “Is that it?” 

Sonic shifted in his seat. “Do I need another reason?” The disbelief that Shadow tried to hide must have crossed his features, because his counterpart immediately backtracked. “Not to sound, like, dense or anything! I’ve only really spoken to her once, but I just know, y’know?”

Shadow stared blankly at him, suddenly wondering if he should just call the power company and beg for an extension instead of dragging himself through this trainwreck waiting to happen.

“It’s the way she looks at me!” Sonic leaned on one elbow, suddenly oblivious to Shadow’s incredulous look as he stared wistfully out the window. “I offered to show her where her first class was last week and she beamed at me. Her eyes were like… a big green ocean!”

Shadow set the pen down on top of his notebook, resisting the urge to sink a little lower in the booth seat. “Did you think that maybe she looked at you like that because you were the first person to offer her some assistance on her first day at a new school?”

Sonic waved him off with an exasperated huff. “It was more than that! Look, you just had to be there to understand it, I swear.”

“Clearly,” Shadow mumbled, reaching for his pen once more. “What am I supposed to write if you don’t even know anything about her? Were you going to pay me forty dollars just to write ‘Hey, your eyes are like a big green ocean’ on a piece of paper and hand it over to her myself?”

The blue buffoon at least had the decency to look offended at Shadow’s suggestion. “Of course not! C’mon dude, I’m paying you to figure this out!”

Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, clenching his teeth. The crease in his brow was deep enough to rival a canyon. “I can’t just work with ‘pretty and sweet’, hedgehog. I need more than that.” He opened his eyes a crack, waving his hand out to Sonic as he spoke. “I talked to her today and-”

“You talked to her?” The blue hedgehog was out of his seat in a flash, leaning over the table as he stared intently at his acquaintance. “What happened?”

Shadow leaned back, throwing a hand out to press against Sonic’s chest and create some distance between them. “Personal. Space.” He waited until Sonic settled in the booth again before continuing with a shrug. “She returned my phone to me when she realized I dropped it after class. She left right before you came wandering up.”

“So she’s considerate! Work with that.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why?”

Shadow’s patience was beginning to wear thin. There was no way he was just that stupid, right? “I have to write this letter like you’re the one addressing it to her, right?” He spoke slowly, as if he was trying to explain divisible fractions to a fifth grader. “I can’t use my interaction with her as an example of your affections, or she’ll know that you aren’t really the one writing it.”

Sonic’s brow furrowed, and for a startling moment Shadow thought he might still be confused, but then he nodded as he looked down at the notebook sitting between them. “Guess you’re right… I don’t want her to think I’m bullshitting this.”

A retort settled itself on the tip of Shadow’s tongue but he bit it back. He couldn’t be too harsh; he still needed the guy’s money. He picked up his pen for the second time, quickly jotting down the only two things that Sonic had given him to work with. “Maybe something not too direct, like an invitation to get to know each other better instead of a flat-out confession?” He mumbled the words, speaking more to himself than to the hedgehog across from him. “I don’t know what kind of girl she is- she is pretty- does she want to be called pretty, though?”

“Have you ever liked anyone?”

Shadow stopped mumbling mid-thought, snapping his head up so fast he was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “What?”

“I was just thinking-”

“I can hardly believe it,” he shot back.

“-you’re looking at this like you’ve never been in love before! Is it too much just to tell someone you wanna go on a date because you think they’re good-looking?”

Shadow waved a dismissive hand at him and scoffed, not even dignifying that question with a response. 

Sonic gave a dramatic, impatient roll of his eyes, returning his attention to the food in front of him. “Some help you are– you probably don’t even know what love is!”

It took everything in him not to take the plate of half-finished chili and hot dog and upend it right into Sonic’s lap. Shadow scribbled something onto a new page, ripped it out of the notebook and slammed it closed hard enough to make the other man jump before shoving it back into his backpack. 

He stood, hauling his bag up with him and shoving the crumpled piece of paper into Sonic’s chest with enough force to knock him against the back of the booth. He pointed a finger at him, menacing and fuming. “What you’re describing is not love; it’s a superficial attraction for someone who has given you a measly serving of attention,” he snarled, prodding at the hedgehog with his pointer finger. “I’ll show you a love letter, you faker.” 

He turned on his heel, boots stomping loudly on the tile as he made his way toward the front door. “My number is on the page! Text me and I’ll send you my PaidPal.”

“W-what about the letter?” Sonic’s voice trailed after him as he pushed the door open, the bell chiming overhead. “Aren’t you gonna write it now so I can see it?”

“Pay me and then you’ll get your letter!” 

The cold air outside hit Shadow like a brick wall, and he tugged his jacket closed. If Sonic thought he was going to give him charity work, he was sadly mistaken. I’ll write a letter, alright. He sneered as the thought skirted his mind. Didn’t say it had to be perfect, though.

—

It was already dark when Shadow got home, and he cursed the winter season’s early sunsets all the while. He didn’t mind the dark, but it was a bit inconvenient when he had things to do. Not only was it harder to see anything at all outside, but the January chill settled deep in his bones after the sun dipped below the horizon and left no inkling of warmth behind. 

The sound of screaming children still rang in his ears from his last job of the day. Out of every piece of work he had lined up, babysitting had always been his least favorite, but since it was a well-paid job, he couldn’t help but pick up the phone when parents in need of a night out or some extra help rang his line. This couple in particular had three small children all under the age of eleven, the youngest being five, and they called Shadow at least once a week to watch their kids at home when they couldn’t find anyone else. The pay was good enough for him to keep the husband’s number saved in his phone. 

The only positive thing that came out of the day was the fact that, not even ten minutes after leaving The Shack, his phone chimed with a notification from PaidPal: forty dollars from the username Blue_Blur. He’d given the name a haughty snort, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. It was exactly like the guy to have a pen name like that.

The small, tattered, foyer rug just inside the front door slid a little under his weight. He stepped over it, cursing the damned thing for trying to trip him up after such a long day. 

The only problem that Shadow noted as he made for the kitchen was that he was way more exhausted than he had any right to be. It was just past seven p.m. He chalked it up to the fact that the day had been way more taxing than usual– not only had he dealt with two hours of babysitting (the youngest one liked to bite) and finished some future-dropout’s geometry worksheet plus his own homework, but the interaction with Sonic at the diner had taken almost everything out of him even before all of the nonsense of the evening. 

Shadow had been familiar with Sonic since they were young, though due to their clashing personalities, the pair had never mixed well in a group setting. Sonic was flashy, loud, and so naturally social in a way that Shadow hadn’t quite seen since– well, since Maria. It was this simple fact that made him dislike the blue rat all the more strongly, as if Sonic, who had never even been offered the honor to meet Maria, was somehow bastardizing her memory. 

He was messy, a bit boastful at times, and obnoxious in a way that just screamed be my friend. Just not in a way that made Shadow actually want to be his friend. 

The spell worked on everyone else, though, it seemed.

So why on earth, if Sonic had so many other appeasing characters at his disposal every day, had he chosen Shadow for this tedious endeavor? It was nonsensical; out of all the people in town, Shadow was one of the very few who would be all too happy to trade him for half a stick of gum. 

A loud snore tore Shadow abruptly from his musings. He glanced into the living room, where in the darkness Gerald’s sleeping form lounged in his recliner. The T.V. was turned on, but there was a blank void of dark gray laid across the screen, with the channel number flashing in the upper corner. The channel must have gone out about an hour ago when the daytime productions ended on that specific network. Gingerly, he stepped into the room, approaching the armchair to reach for the remote on the folding tray. He flicked off the television with a quiet sniff. He didn’t need the bill wracking up for next month because Gerald decided to leave a blank network running all hours of the night while he slept. 

He noted the half-eaten frozen chicken alfredo that Shadow had laid out for his grandfather sitting on the tray as well, gathered it up, and walked it to the kitchen. He removed the fork and shoved the paperboard bowl into the microwave to heat it up to a tolerable temperature, washing the fork while he waited. Although he’d rather not eat after Gerald, it was too much of a waste for him to make a separate meal for himself and toss half a serving of something the old man hadn’t eaten. 

“We’re family; we share germs!” It was something Maria used to say before she got sick–which was unrelated to said sharing-of-food– and now Shadow lived by that ideology more than ever.

He was already scrounging for pennies as is without being picky about sharing food with a family member. 

He opened the microwave before it could blare into the quiet house, shoveling the remaining unseasoned noodles, chicken, and broccoli pieces into his mouth. He discarded the bowl, rinsed the fork, and headed back toward the living room.

When he stopped right beside the armchair, Shadow stared at the wrinkles on Gerald’s face. The sunkenness of his eyes. The dishevelment of his once well-groomed, bushy mustache. 

Maria, forgive him for the thought–

But Shadow hated him.

He hated the old, shabby chair he was always sitting in; the television that played sepia-toned western reruns all hours of the day; the half-eaten food that Shadow would make for him that sat on the T.V. tray until the dark hedgehog would collect it from him–

Shadow had never expected the roles to be reversed between the two of them. If he were Gerald, the last thing he’d want was someone waiting on him, cleaning up his messes, shutting everyone else out because the reality was too embarrassing to swallow.

But Maria’s death had been too much. It had snapped everything inside of the elderly man.

The child inside of Shadow wanted to wail, But what about me? I still need you!

No.

He reached down, tugging the blanket up until it was just below Gerald’s chin.

He didn’t need Gerald–Gerald needed him.

And it was the only thing keeping him from throwing himself off the river bridge.

The thought held a paradox that was nearly lost on him.

—

It was even colder in the room than it had been that morning, if possible. He bundled himself further into Gerald’s raggedy coat, kicked off his boots, and sidled out of his jeans and into his pajama pants. 

He knew that the most logical thing for him to do–in the colder months, at least–was to move himself back into his old bedroom to avoid freezing to death. 

…But he just couldn’t do it.

Not when a ghost occupied the room just down the hall. 

Not when he felt like turning to stone from the inside out every time he reached for the doorknob.

Not when he could still hear her coughs through the walls.

No. Not ever.

So he endured the chill and the numbness it caused in his toes and fingertips, if only for his own peace of mind. 

He sat criss-cross on his bed, draping the blanket over his lap and setting his notebook on top of it. A blank page stared back at him. He drew quick iterations of swirls in the margins, urging his brain to work.

Love letter. Love letter.

How did one write a love letter?

He’d written many letters throughout Maria’s time in hospice, but those were filled with queries, well-wishes, and monotonous retellings of everyday life on both ends. 

Your brother, Shadow. He’d always ended his letters just like that, and it had been easy. 

Maybe this would be easy, too, because although he was the scribe, he was not the spoken word. 

It wouldn’t be Love, Shadow, on paper or in truth.

It would be Love, Sonic.

.

.

.

Your eyes are like a big, green ocean. 

He chortled as he scribbled the words onto the paper, stared at it for a moment, and then flipped to the next blank page, shaking his head all the while.

—

The envelope crinkled in Shadow’s hands as he stood at the far end off the school hallway. He was there earlier than usual; just after the buses rolled in and the first wave of students entered the building. 

His eyes were scanning the place for pink.

He knew Rouge would have questions for him once she arrived–”And just when did you intend to tell me that I would look like a fool waiting by the side entrance for someone who was already in the building, hm?”–but he couldn’t let her know that he was early lest she find out what he was up to. The last thing he needed was a meddling voice in his ear telling him what he already knew: that stalking someone to figure out which locker was theirs was damning grounds for a nasty confrontation. 

He loomed in a corner, leaning on the hall in what he hoped to be a casual pose, like a loitering student who didn’t feel like going to homeroom just yet. 

He’d mulled over the letter for the better part of an hour the previous night before remembering that, despite the fact he’d been paid to write the damn thing, it didn’t have to be scholar-worthy. It just had to be passable. 

He’d been lucky to even find an envelope in the house to shove it in. 

He wrinkled his nose at the neat, cursive letters that spelled out Amy Rose on the front. He thought that it might be overkill, but rationalized that, if Amy was as clueless about Sonic as he was about her, worrying that she might be suspicious of the swirly-ended words across the envelope should be outside of his realm of fears. There’s no way that she could suspect it was the handiwork of another man if she’d never actually seen Sonic write anything before. 

Sonic hadn’t given him any indication that he would be around in the morning to collect the letter to give it to Amy himself, not that he’d planned to hand it over, anyway. He typically wouldn’t worry himself over something so trivial, but the idea that he would hand Sonic the letter with the chance of him ripping it open himself to proofread it first made Shadow’s lip twitch. 

As if he had put all of his being into writing the perfect confession (he had not). 

A flash of pastel pink caught his eye and he pricked his ears, his entire body suddenly at attention. He clutched the envelope closer, his gaze following the soft features of the exact girl he’d been looking for.

Amy Rose, pained as he was to say it, was a very pretty girl. She had a brightness about her that dazzled everyone else around her, and a voice that carried in a crowd. She didn’t dress plainly, but she wasn’t trying to show off, either. She didn’t look at all sluggish as a result of being up so early, nor perturbed that the place she was currently occupying was a shithole full of good-for-nothing lowlifes with no future and no way out of the monotony. 

Amy Rose was an anomaly.

She stopped just a few paces down from him, turning to fumble with the combination of her locker, yanked it open, and began sliding a few select folders and textbooks onto the shelf just above her eye level. 

Shadow tapped his foot, averting his gaze for fear that he would be caught staring. He didn’t need her to try and start a conversation until the bell rang, giving him no time to do what he needed to do.

When he saw her moving again out of the corner of his eye he looked back to where she’d been standing, only to find her nearly halfway down the hall already, walking hastily toward the furthest classroom from him. 

He took his chance, pushing himself off the wall he’d been lurking by, made sure nobody was paying attention to him, and then easily slid the envelope through one of the thin louvers near the top. He heard a dull ‘thump’ come from the inside, and he just hoped that it would be noticeable enough for her to see next time she opened the door. He carried on quickly to avoid suspicion, shuffling his way to Ms. Thorn’s classroom. He could apologize to Rouge later; he didn’t need another tardy on his record.

“Yo, Jack!”

On second thought, maybe he’d take demerit in exchange for five more minutes of peace.

Just as he pivoted on his heel to walk the other way, a gloved hand snatched at his jacket sleeve and all but yanked him over the classroom threshold.

He stumbled into another body and flinched away, snarling with all of his teeth. 

“Chill out!” Sonic jumped back, releasing him and putting both hands up as if placating a dangerous animal. “I just wanted to-”

“I already gave Amy your letter,” Shadow snapped, albeit lowering his voice a little. There were a few curious, wandering eyes on them now. 

“Really?” Sonic perked up. “What’d she think?”

“Um-” Shadow pressed his mouth into a thin line. “I meant, I put it in her locker.”

Sonic’s posture sagged. “Aw man, I was hoping she’d read it right now!”

A growl rumbled low in Shadow’s throat, an impatient, gravelly sound that did nothing at all to concern his blue counterpart. “Are you quite finished? I’d like to get to my seat.”

Sonic side-stepped him to let him pass, but then trailed behind him on the way to their seats. He plopped himself down right in front of Shadow, and the dark hedgehog’s eyes flashed. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting?” Sonic turned in his seat so he was facing Shadow, cocking his head to one side. 

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather be sitting with?” Shadow was doing his best to keep his voice neutral. 

“Well, none of my regular buddies are in this class, and I figured you might like the company!” He swung one leg beneath the seat, a splitting grin overtaking his features. Shadow wanted to wring his neck.

“I would rather be alone. I prefer the quiet.” His response was curt and final, as if he was daring Sonic to challenge him.

The blue menace had the audacity to shrug and wave him off. “Don’t worry, I can be quiet! Dead quiet. You won’t even know I’m here, honest!”

It took a great deal of effort for Shadow’s eye not to twitch. One hand curled into a fist in his lap, and the other came up to press against his temple. He closed his eyes and sighed, but didn’t respond. 

In the blissful moment of silence he was allowed, he let his thoughts wander back to Amy and the letter in her locker. 

Although he had no particularly strong feelings toward the girl of Sonic’s affections, the guilt that pulsed softly behind his being was enough to make his skin crawl. 

Love, Sonic.

Writing the words had made his jaw tense. It had felt wrong and impersonal, definitely not what a love letter merited.

Would he have felt just as bad if it were Blaze he’d been tasked with writing the letter for? Or Wave? Or even Rouge?

He almost laughed.

No, not Rouge. In fact, if he had more time on his hands–and perhaps a better sense of humor–he would have already-

“What did you write in the end?”

Shadow peeled his eyes open, glaring daggers at the hedgehog that was now leaning over the desk on one elbow. 

When Shadow didn’t answer, he clarified. “On the letter.”

“I know what you meant,” Shadow grumbled, closing his eyes again.

The last bell rang, and the other students bustled about to get to their seats as Ms. Thorn stood up to take attendance. 

“Well?” Sonic’s voice was a whisper now. “What’d you write?”

Shadow ignored him, ears bent back against his skull in an attempt to muffle the track star’s voice. 

His mind wandered to his jobs instead. The Tuesday tasks after school included fixing a leak in one of the neighbor’s sinks (it was probably just a pipe fitting that had come loose) and doing an errand run for Mrs. Kennedy just before the store closed-

Gloved fingers snapped in front of his face, and he flinched, baring his fangs. “What.”

“C’mon man, I paid you for this!” Sonic’s voice teetered on a whine. “I at least deserve to know what you said.”

Shadow straightened his posture, looked right into Sonic’s emerald stare, and finally spat,  “If she’s anything like all the other nobodies in this place vying for any ounce of attention, then it was something to make her run straight into your arms, I’m sure.”

Sonic’s brow arched, clearly picking up the condescending tone that filled Shadow’s words, but his voice seemed to fail him when Ms. Thorn finally called his name on the roster and he was forced to turn and reply to her. 

Shadow bent over his desk once more, laying his head down to press against an arm. The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind his eyes, and he braced himself for the bell that was due to ring in just a few minutes. 

His own statement rang in his ears. 

Was it true? Would the letter be the perfect thing to give Sonic what he wanted out of the girl?

Shadow could name a few shallow, lesser beings at MPS that would take the note as some sort of binding deal that linked their soul with whoever wrote it; a lot of girls would consider a letter romantic if they were complimented within the stanzas at least once or twice, especially if it was from someone as well-known and universally liked as Sonic. 

He had no reason to believe that Amy was any different.

The bell chimed long and echoing overhead, and Shadow was out of his seat in a heartbeat, pushing his way to the front of the class so that Sonic had little to no time to follow him out. The last thing he needed this morning was more questions. 

The chronicles of Sonic and Amy Rose were past him, now. He had the money for his electric bill, and he could go back to a relatively normal life–only being bothered by Sonic for everyday reasons, more like. If he had to ever write another letter again-

“Shadow Robotnik.”

He stopped, his entire body freezing up like a rabbit hearing a startling, unfamiliar sound. 

White flooded his vision, and suddenly Rouge was upon him, hands on her hips and looking mutinous.

“Would you mind explaining to me your little stunt from this morning?” Her voice was sickly sweet despite the rage in her eyes, but Shadow knew better. 

“Um…” He clutched the strap of his bag tighter. “...Sorry.” It was lame and quite a pitiful response, but he had no energy to deter her at the moment. Forgiveness over permission.

The heel of Rouge’s boot clicked on the tile below them as she tapped her foot impatiently. “I looked like a fool, Shadow,” she seethed, the gentle hostility gone from her voice now, replaced by unbridled anger. “A fool standing out in the frosty cold for someone who was already at school! I waited until the bell was about to ring. Could you believe it? Me, almost late for class because of you!”

A bit of Shadow’s usual fire returned at the absurdity of her claim. “Oh, of course. Because a tardy mark would be so surprising to see on your record.” 

He snapped his teeth at her, moving to brush by and leave her behind. He wasn’t surprised when she attached herself to his hip, wrapping one arm around his as he carried them both through the chaotic stream of students attempting to make their way outside. 

“You ought to be relieved that I didn’t come barreling into your homeroom to embarrass you in front of your classmates,” she huffed. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!”

“Then stop waiting for me,” Shadow murmured sharply.

“Oh, I certainly will after today, believe you me!”

They both knew it was a lie. She would be waiting for him outside the lunchroom later, just like always. It was both a blessing and a curse that Rouge could never quite manage to stay angry with him for longer than an hour. 

Lucky him. 

“What were you doing, anyway?”

He shifted his weight, sliding his arm out of her grip when they reached the fork in the hallway that would take them to their separate classes. “Personal business,” he grunted, and left it at that. 

Rouge, to her credit–and to Shadow’s relief–didn’t push.

—

The walk back from lunch was a fairly uneventful endeavor. The cheap, bootleg chicken parm and noodles settled awkwardly in Shadow’s stomach (as most cafeteria food usually did), and his eyes felt heavy, his mind reeling with the errands he was meant to run before finally getting to return home for the night. 

While the other students in the hall made their way to their next classes for the day, he went to his locker to retrieve his bike helmet. 

When he was reaching up to retrieve it, however, he heard a loud, familiar voice calling to him from somewhere down the hall. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and prayed to whatever deity resided above to give him the strength to not flay this hedgehog so violently across the place that it would leave a blue stain. 

“Caught ya!” Sonic’s shoulder thudded against the locker beside Shadow’s, making the loose-fitting door rattle beneath the weight.

When Shadow turned his gaze to look at Sonic, his attention was brought instead over the guy’s shoulder. There, a few paces behind him, was a small, yellow fox with big, curious eyes. 

“Miles,” Shadow rumbled, indicating to the freshman behind Sonic. He was familiar with the kid because he ran in Sonic’s immediate circle, but due to the three-year gap between them, he never shared a class with him. All he knew was that he was smarter than most of the teens his own age, and that he looked up to Sonic like an idol. 

Sonic waved off the fox boy, instead directing his attention back on Shadow. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you slipped out of homeroom on me!” he said, and it sounded to Shadow like he was trying to scold him, one finger pointed in his face. He was overcome with the sudden urge to bite.

“I had nothing left to say to you,” Shadow insisted, slammed shut the door on his locker, and started down the other end of the hall.

“You gave a pretty meek response to my question, though!” Sonic trotted after him easily.

Damn this track junkie.

“Did you write something bad? Is that why you’re avoiding the subject?” Sonic wondered aloud, swinging both arms behind his head to cradle his quills as he walked. It was casual in a way that made Shadow want to get away. They were not friends. They did not walk together.

As they began to round the corner, however, Shadow stopped so quickly that he was sure he’d run straight into a hidden wall by mistake. 

Amy was at her locker, turning the combination as Shadow stood there, slack-jawed and utterly paralyzed.

“What is it? What’s-”

Shadow grabbed a fistful of Sonic’s shirt and yanked him back around the corner, ignoring his yelp of protest. Miles, who had been following them closely, jumped back a few steps to avoid having his friend launched at him.

“Hey! What’s the big-”

Shadow shushed him, pressing his shoulder against the wall as he peered around the corner. His eyes traveled back down the corridor and landed squarely on pink quills just as she finished opening her locker. His heart lurched as the letter that Shadow had shoved into the space fluttered gracelessly to the floor, and Amy’s eyes followed it curiously.

Sonic’s head popped around beside Shadow’s, following his gaze. He brightened instantly. “It’s her!” Shadow could feel the blue hedgehog’s tail thumping against his own thigh. “She got the letter!”

“Of course she got the letter,” Shadow hissed in a whisper, releasing the teen’s shirt from his fist. 

“What letter?” Miles spoke for the first time, ducking between the pair to see what they were looking at. 

Sonic’s chin rested on the younger kid’s head as they watched together. “The letter I was gonna give to Amy,” he breathed. “Remember?”

“You actually wrote one?” Miles sounded surprised. 

Shadow jaw ticked. “He didn’t, but someone else did for him.”

The fox swung his gaze upward, but Shadow wasn’t paying attention to him.

Amy was holding the envelope in both hands and glancing around as if she expected the sender to be standing idly by. She looked understandably puzzled.

The three boys watched with bated breath as she gingerly pried open the note–with some difficulty (those damn things could never open clean)– and plucked the paper out from within. 

Shadow held his breath. 

.

.

.

The girl straightened, and to Shadow’s surprise, indignation creased her brow. 

She turned, marched to the end of the row of lockers, crumpled the note in her hand–Shadow’s heart lurched– and tossed it in the waste bin. She quickly journeyed back to her locker, grabbed what she needed, and continued on her way, quickening her pace.

The boys all stumbled to turn the corner again to avoid being caught.

When she was finally out of sight, Sonic turned an accusing glance toward his dark counterpart. “Okay, so,” he threw his hands out, “what the hell did you write on that letter?!”

Shadow winced at the real, palpable irritation in his voice. Fuck, he was confused, too. He hadn’t done his absolute best on the thing, it hadn’t been perfect, but it certainly hadn’t been awful–at least, he hadn’t thought so.

Miles was faster than both of them, scrambling down the hall toward the trash can, tripping over his cuffed, bell bottom jeans that were nearly too big for his lanky form. He reached down into the bin, plucked out the paper, and rushed back, ignoring the confused looks of the passerbys. 

He didn’t hand it to Sonic right away, choosing to take a quick look over the words himself first. Shadow tensed, making to reach for the paper to snatch it away, but stopped himself.

“‘Won’t you be mine?’” Miles read the lines out loud with a frown. “‘Pink and blue, like candy floss.’” 

When Sonic shot Shadow a disbelieving look, he couldn't help but feel defensive. “That’s not all it says,” he muttered, shooting the fox a scathing glance. 

“You’re totally clueless!” Sonic threw his hands up, his eyes widening. “Oh my gosh, you have no idea what you’re doing! I’m ruined!” He kicked a locker in frustration as Miles crumpled the letter back up and shoved it in his pocket. “Do you really think I’d say something like that?”

Shadow’s fist tightened at his side. “Hey hotshot, I don’t know if you remember, but you paid me to write the damn thing! If you knew what would get her attention for real, why didn’t you just fucking write it yourself?”

“Because I thought that maybe a guy in the smart English class would have an easier time coming up with something that didn’t sound like total hogwash!” Sonic pressed his back against the lockers, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands before sliding down. His rump hit the floor with a ‘thump’. “Oh Chaos, it’s over. She’ll never give me the time of day, now.”

Shadow’s brow furrowed as he stared in the direction that Amy had gone. 

He was sure that something sappy would have worked on her. She was sweet and kind, and more than that, she was new to Green Hill. He’d figured that maybe she would feel flattered by someone’s attempt to get her attention, no matter how cliche. 

He clutched his helmet closer to his hip, wrinkling his nose. 

He felt the familiar fire of challenge spark in his chest. 

“I’ll write another.” The words left him before he could stop them. 

Sonic looked up at him through his fingers. “Really?” He forced the enthusiasm out of his voice afterward. “You’re not just gonna write something bad again, are you?”

Shadow shook his head absently. “No. It’ll be good this time.” What was he doing? He had way more important things to do than to play a game of carousel with… with some random girl. 

He shot Sonic a look from where he stood, pointing down at him. “Twenty bucks this time,” he insisted. “Twenty bucks and I’ll even let you read it before I hand it over.”

Sonic’s eagerness returned and he reached up a hand for Shadow to take, which he did, begrudgingly. He pulled the senior to his feet, and before he could pull away, the hedgehog gave it a firm shake, showing all his teeth in a big, stupid smile. “Deal!”

Shadow snaked his hand out of Sonic’s grip and pushed past the pair of boys, heading for the side entrance that led to the senior parking lot.

Pink quills, hard-set eyes, and a determined stare ahead filled his senses. He chuckled darkly to himself as he shoved his way out into the frosty air. 

He was intrigued.

Game on, Amy Rose.

Game. On.