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The field was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. Wildflowers swayed gently, their petals catching the silver light as a cool breeze rolled through the grass. The world around her was serene—peaceful, even—but Amy Rose didn’t feel at peace.
She sat with her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. The night was beautiful, and yet, all she could feel was the dull ache in her heart. She had stopped crying, but the weight of loneliness still lingered in her chest, settling deep, making her limbs feel heavy.
It was supposed to be different this year.
At least, that’s what she had told herself so the day wouldn’t hurt as much. She had held onto hope, convincing herself that maybe—just maybe—this time, Sonic would stay. That he would choose to spend the day with her, or at the very least, acknowledge it.
But just like last year, and the year before that, he was nowhere to be found.
Amy knew Sonic never meant to hurt her. She understood his restless nature, his unwillingness to be tied down. But understanding didn’t make the sting any less sharp. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and let out a quiet sigh, her breath visible in the cool night air.
Then—footsteps.
Her ears twitched at the sound, and instinctively, she turned. A dark figure stood a short distance away, the faint glow of the moon catching the crimson streaks along his fur.
Crimson eyes met hers.
"Shadow!" Amy called, forcing a bright smile despite the lingering sadness. "Didn’t expect to see you here."
Shadow didn’t answer right away. He simply stood there, gaze steady, sharp, as if assessing her. His expression, ever unreadable, seemed to hold something beneath the surface—something she couldn’t quite place.
Amy shifted, tucking a strand of fur behind her ear. "It’s a beautiful night," she tried again, gesturing toward the stars. "I was just enjoying the view."
Shadow took a slow step forward. Then another.
Without a word, he held out a small, neatly wrapped box, a red ribbon tied carefully on top.
Amy blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"For me?"
A single nod.
Her fingers brushed against his gloved ones as she accepted the gift, the brief contact sending a small, unexpected flutter through her chest. She carefully untied the ribbon, her breath hitching when she saw what was inside.
Chocolates.
Amy swallowed, warmth spreading in her heart. No one had ever given her anything on Valentine’s Day before.
"Shadow, I…" Her voice wavered, caught between gratitude and disbelief. "I don’t know what to say."
"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, voice quiet but firm.
Amy bit her lip, staring down at the box in her lap. It was thoughtful—so thoughtful. And the fact that he had gone out of his way for her made something in her chest tighten.
Not wanting him to leave, she blurted out, "Would you… like to share them with me?"
Shadow hesitated, as if considering. Then, after a brief pause, he shook his head. "I don’t like sweet things."
She figured as much. But the idea of him leaving so soon made her ears lower slightly.
Before she could say anything, he added, "I’ll stay with you, though."
Amy’s heart skipped. He was going to stay?
Wordlessly, Shadow lowered himself onto the grass beside her, his presence solid, grounding.
The silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward—it was something else. Something warm.
Amy exhaled, tilting her head back to gaze at the stars. The sky stretched endlessly above them, a blanket of twinkling lights scattered across the darkness. She had always loved the stars, had always thought they were romantic in a way. But for once, she didn’t need to wish upon them.
Because right now, Shadow was here.
Then—she felt it.
A gentle touch.
His hand, brushing against hers.
The contact was brief at first, hesitant, almost unsure. But then, slowly, deliberately, Shadow’s fingers pressed forward, slipping between hers.
Amy’s breath caught.
His touch wasn’t accidental. He had chosen to hold her hand like this—fingers intertwined, a deeper kind of closeness.
The warmth of his palm, the firm yet careful way he held her, made her heart pound in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
She turned slightly, eyes wide, searching his face.
He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained on the horizon, his expression unreadable. But she wasn’t fooled—she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed slightly, as if adjusting to the feeling of their hands fitting together.
A soft pink dusted his cheeks, barely visible in the moonlight.
Amy’s lips parted slightly, her chest tightening at the sight. She had never seen Shadow try to comfort anyone before. Never seen him choose closeness like this.
Her heart swelled.
A soft smile tugged at her lips, and before she could stop herself, she gently squeezed his hand.
Shadow’s fingers tensed for the briefest moment. Then—he squeezed back.
The smallest, simplest gesture.
But it meant everything.
The cool breeze no longer bothered Amy. Shadow’s warmth, his presence, was enough.
She let out a slow breath, feeling lighter than she had all day. A thought crossed her mind, and she turned slightly toward him.
"You know," she murmured, "I never expected to end up with you like this on Valentine’s Day."
Shadow exhaled through his nose, something close to amusement in the sound. "Neither did I."
Amy giggled softly, her fingers curling just a little tighter around his.
They sat like that for a while, hands intertwined beneath the endless sky. The weight in Amy’s chest had lifted, replaced by something softer, something gentler.
She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
A comfortable silence stretched between them, the night calm, the moment untouched.
Then, hesitantly, Amy whispered, "Happy Valentine’s Day, Shadow."
Shadow was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if he would respond at all.
Then, just as quiet, just as deliberate, he murmured, "Happy Valentine’s Day, Amy."
Amy smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.
And as the stars glittered above them, as their fingers remained intertwined, she realized something.
She hadn’t expected this.
Hadn’t expected him.
But maybe… maybe that made it all the more special.
She wasn’t lonely anymore.
And this time, her smile wasn’t forced.
It was real.
[END]