Chapter Text
Shadow was a man of structure, meticulous to a fault, even in the smallest details of his life. He operated on a schedule so precise that nothing, under any circumstance, was permitted to disrupt it. His days were governed by routine. Any deviation, any unforeseen variable, was not merely an inconvenience but a disturbance he could physically feel settling beneath his skin.
Every morning unfolded the same way. At exactly six, his alarm would pierce the quiet, sharp and unyielding. He would rise without hesitation, the cool air of dawn brushing against him as he prepared for his run. The rhythmic thud of his steps would echo through the streets as he jogged around his apartment complex, the faint scent of morning dew clinging to the pavement.
Afterward, he would stop by Café Luminous, the soft chime of the door accompanying his entrance, and order a hot black coffee with no sugar. Always the same one. He would leave with the bitter aroma trailing after him, coffee beans in hand, before returning to the apartment he shared with Team Dark, preparing himself for work.
It was a cycle; unyielding, and unshakable.
Occasionally, he allowed minor variables into his schedule. Maintenance for his bike. A solitary walk. Skating through the open stretches of Green Hill, wind slicing past him in sharp, exhilarating currents. And, inevitably, crossing paths with a certain blue hedgehog—entirely unintentional, of course. That blue menace had, somehow, embedded himself into the framework of Shadow’s life as a recurring disturbance.
Shadow couldn’t stand him.
The smile was too bright. His face was irritatingly expressive. His habits were infuriating. The way he ate, the impatient tapping of his foot, the restless energy that refused to stay contained. And worst of all, the way he influenced everyone around him with that… contagious vitality.
Some saw him as a catalyst. Others, a savior.
On the brink of the world’s collapse, when everything teetered on the edge of irreversible ruin, Sonic's presence brought hope. The impossible became inevitable. Things would work out. They always did. With Sonic present, destruction seemed to dissolve, as though it had never stained the world to begin with. That was Sonic the Hedgehog.
Shadow hated him.
…Or at least, that was what he told himself. Seeing him. Hearing his voice. Racing against him—those were the things he should have hated.
Truth be told, though, he didn't.
He enjoyed it. Every second of it. Each encounter acted like a turning cog within him, something that kept him moving, functioning, and alive. In some incomprehensible way, Sonic the Hedgehog had become the reason he could still find it in himself to love this planet.
Yes, it was suffocating, but not in a way he despised. It was the kind of pressure that came with adrenaline surging through his veins, blood rushing through his body, and lungs burning as he ran. There was an unfamiliar, erratic rhythm in his chest, something that made him feel an undeniable sense of comfort. A strange kind of exhilaration.
They had known each other for years, and yet, they had never reached a point of true understanding. Sonic remained an enigma—each encounter revealing a different facet, something new, something unpredictable. Shadow claimed indifference, but absentmindedly, he recorded these observations in his journal.
The journal itself had begun as something else entirely; a record of his daily life, fragments of memories that had once slipped through his grasp after his fall to Earth and the amnesia that followed. Now, it served multiple purposes. Work notes. New interests.
Lately, that included visiting a cat shelter.
The soft chorus of mewling, the warmth of small bodies brushing against him, the faint scent of fur and antiseptic lingering in the air. It was… tolerable. Perhaps even calming. If he found stray cats, he would bring them there. He had become familiar with the owner. He donated regularly. Sometimes he would stop by after work, or during breaks, simply to sit among them in quiet observation.
A new variable. Logged. Shadow documented everything. Any deviation, no matter how small, was recorded with precision.
Which was why his current situation was… unacceptable.
For reasons beyond his understanding, he had been dragged into something entirely outside his routine. Rouge, of all people, had insisted he accompany her to shop for chocolate ingredients—because, apparently, it was Valentine’s Day. Normally, she would rope Amy into this sort of thing, but the pink hedgehog was, as Rouge had so eloquently put it, “not in a mood.”
From what Shadow gathered through Rouge’s relentless rambling, Amy was currently furious with Sonic. Because he had disappeared again, off on some adventure, and had been gone for four months. Her messages had gone ignored, brushed off with unserious replies. It had escalated into frustration, then tears, and finally a declaration that she was so done chasing after her endless crush towards Sonic.
“…What is a crush?” Shadow asked flatly, examining a box of chocolates in his hand.
Rouge stopped mid-sentence. She turned slowly, staring at him as if he had just uttered something deeply concerning.
“A crush.” she repeated.
Shadow’s brow lifted slightly.
“Crush… as in to destroy?”
“…Not that kind.” Rouge exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Wow. You really have zero experience in this area, huh? And at your age, too…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know where to start.”
Shadow felt an immediate flicker of irritation.
What was wrong with asking a question? Was ignorance suddenly a crime?
“Listen,” Rouge continued after a moment, relenting. "A crush is someone you're attracted to. It could be someone you’ve liked for a long time. That’s what Amy has for Sonic. I'd say she's had it for seven or ten years.” She sighed. “Too bad he’s about as romantically aware as a brick.”
Shadow considered this, fingers resting against his chin. So—something akin to love at first sight? Like the fairy tales Maria used to tell him. Princes and princesses. True love’s kiss.
The thought made something twist unpleasantly in his stomach. Absurd. How could anyone claim to love someone they barely knew? And yet…
What did it feel like? Would he ever experience it? Not that he intended to. But Maria had always hoped to find her own love someday. If she couldn’t… perhaps he could at least understand it.
For Maria's sake.
“…I see,” he said finally. “Then where does one acquire a crush?”
Rouge dropped her card. She was about to use it to pay for her purchases, but she was now bewildered by what Shadow had just said. She stared at him, visibly struggling to process what she had just heard. “You want a crush?” she asked, incredulous. “Since when?”
She continued her payment, and after she was done, the cashier said, "Thank you for shopping at our grocery store."
After done paying, they moved from the register, Rouge still watching him like he had suddenly grown a second head.
Shadow explained, “It’s just simple curiosity. You frequently engage in relationships, so I assumed it was part of the process.”
Rouge chuckled, “Oh, honey… I date, sure, but none of them are my crush.” She smirked and shrugged lightly. “If anything, they’re useful. The only things I truly love are jewels… and money.”
This realization made Shadow think. If Rouge’s affections could apply to objects, then by that logic, he also had things he enjoyed: coffee beans, skating with his air shoes, listening to Sabrina Carpenter, and, of course… racing with… Sonic.
It’s not like he enjoying it.
He exhaled softly through his nose, though he would never admit that last part. “I understand,” he said, but Rouge didn’t look convinced.
Suddenly, her expression brightened. “I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you celebrate Valentine’s with me?” she suggested brightly. “We’ll make chocolate together. Nothing serious—just friendship chocolate. It’ll help you… figure things out.”
Before Shadow could respond, she grabbed his arm and began pulling him along. “Come on, Shadow! Let’s make chocolate.”
And just like that, Rouge’s relentless, infectious energy caught him and dragged him forward, straight into something entirely outside the boundaries of his carefully constructed routine.
Chocolate. And chocolate. And more chocolate!
Shadow was truly, utterly fed up with it as he stared down at the piece in his hand.
In the end, he had given in to Rouge and found himself making chocolate alongside her. It had been… enjoyable. Surprisingly so. And, if he were being honest, the process itself had brought a strange sense of calm to his otherwise tightly wound mind.
Of course, the real problem came after it was finished.
Rouge, naturally, didn’t miss her chance to tease him in her usual fashion the moment she saw the final result. And admittedly—the chocolate he made was… good. That, in itself, was the product of his fixation.
He carefully combined his preferred elements: dark chocolate as the base, crushed coffee beans folded into the mixture, and just enough sugar to balance the bitterness without overpowering it. Even the aroma was decadent; it was sharp, roasted, and a touch bitter, filling the air with a persistent warmth. Instead of molding the mixture into a standard bar, he shaped it into small, neat cubes—almost like candy—and wrapped each piece in clean packaging tied with ribbon.
Rouge watched him with a hand lightly covering her mouth, eyes gleaming.
“Wow… Shadow, hon. You’re really good at this. I barely guided you, and yet your final result looks better than mine. Cleaner and neater.”
She lowered her hand slowly, her lips curling into a sly smile. “So,” she added, tilting her head, “have you decided who your Valentine is going to be today?”
Shadow barely spared her a glance.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he replied flatly. “If this is part of your dating games, I’ll pass.”
“Wait, wait—hear me out first.” Rouge’s tone shifted, coaxing now. “Didn’t you say you wanted a crush?”
That made him pause mid-motion, fingers tightening slightly around the wrap as he prepared to leave.
“This could be a method,” she continued smoothly. “You’re new to this, sure—but you can give that chocolate to someone. Who knows? Maybe they’ll accept it, and maybe… it turns into something more.”
Shadow’s expression twisted into visible disgust, his quills bristling sharply.
"I'm not a child, Rouge. I don’t believe in ‘love at first sight’ crap or any of that nonsense. If you're going to keep making a joke out of this, then I'm leaving."
“Don’t look at me like that,” Rouge shot back, pouting slightly. “You’re the one who wanted to acquire a crush. And newsflash, it doesn’t work like that. You don’t choose it. It just… happens. That moment when your heart stutters, when something clicks—that’s when you know. That’s how it works.”
Shadow exhaled sharply through his nose.
“That explanation is oddly specific. You date frequently, yet you claim none of them are your crush. Then why date them at all? Why not pursue the one you actually like?” he muttered under his breath.
Rouge clicked her tongue, smirking.
"I'm a sinful woman, sweetheart. They want me, and I give them what they want. In return, they give me what I want. It's simple. Expensive jewels, for example.” She shrugged lightly. "Besides, grown women don't fall in love through 'crushes' anymore."
“I don’t understand.”
“Anyway,” Rouge waved it off, already moving on, “we’ll save that discussion for another time. I've got a date to go on, and I'm planning on giving this chocolate to someone." She gave him a playful wink. "He's a doctor, so it's hard to schedule with him. I better not keep him waiting."
With a casual kiss blown into the air, she left.
Shadow lingered for a moment, before leaving as well, his gaze drifting back down to the chocolate in his hand. And now…here he was. Still holding it.
Walking in circles, uncertain what exactly he was supposed to do with it. He lifted it slightly, exhaling under his breath. Should he actually try Rouge’s method? Could he see himself giving someone chocolate on Valentine’s Day?
He had experienced this day many times before and had occasionally received chocolate, though never directly. They would either appear in his locker at G.U.N. HQ, be delivered indirectly through Omega, or be left anonymously. He had never eaten any of it. A personal rule of him: never accept food from unknown sources.
So, he threw them away.
Recently, however, that thought had begun to trouble him. If someone had created something with sincerity and effort, wasn’t he dismissing their gesture completely?
This reflection had become more frequent in recent weeks, prompting him to consider people and their feelings—something he had never truly done before. Neither empathy nor communication came naturally to him. Rouge had once labeled this an "autistic trait," a term he still didn't fully comprehend. Yet perhaps living here, at this planet, and meeting people one by one had brought about a change, a softening. He wasn’t entirely certain.
It was only then that he realized where his steps had led him: Vanilla’s house.
Right. That would be an appropriate place for it. He could give it to her. She was consistently kind, one of the few people Shadow genuinely respected. It would be a simple gesture of gratitude. Yes, that seemed like a logical solution.
At least—until a streak of blue tore past him.
“Howdy, partner!” Sonic greeted casually, skidding into place. “You know, I’ve been obsessed with cowboy TV shows lately, so I spent the last three months traveling around their home country—and man, it was amazing. You should try it sometime, Shadow.”
What. The. Fuck.
Wasn’t he supposed to be gone for months? That’s what Amy said. So why was this idiot suddenly here?
And worse, why was the chocolate suddenly gone from his hand?
“Oh, hey, what’s this?” Sonic said, lifting it up to eye level. “Looks like you got chocolate today too, huh? Lucky. I just ran away from a whole crowd trying to give me some. Respect, man—you actually accepted one.”
That’s not from someone else. That’s mine, idiot.
The words stayed locked in Shadow’s head. Instead, a low growl escaped him.
“Give it back.”
“Hmm… don’t feel like it.” Sonic grinned, already unwrapping it. “I’m curious which lucky girl managed to get her chocolate accepted by Shadow the Hedgehog—and held that carefully, too.”
Before Shadow could react, Sonic popped one into his mouth. Rage flared instantly. “How dare you eat it, you shitty hedgehog!”
Shadow’s fist shot forward, a blur of motion aimed with deadly accuracy at Sonic’s face. Sonic dodged effortlessly, chewing. “—Mm...” Another swing. Then Sonic stopped chewing, his grin widening.
“Delicious!”
Shadow stopped his fist an inch before it would have hit Sonic's face.
…What?
“Seriously,” Sonic continued, eyes lighting up. “This is really good. I don’t even like chocolate much, but this? Top tier. Not too sweet, balanced bitterness, and there’s this crunch—coffee, right? Man, whoever made this knows what they’re doing. Way better than anything I get from my fans.”
Shadow slowly lowered his fist.
He… was being praised.
Not for being the Ultimate Lifeform, not for his strength, not out of fear or awe, but for something he made. Something simple. And the praise carried no hidden agenda. No calculation. Just raw, unfiltered sincerity.
"I'm taking all of these, by the way," Sonic added with a cocky grin. Then he was gone. A flash of blue vanishing into the distance.
“GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, SHADS—HAPPY VALENTINEEEE!!”
Silence followed.
…
Thump.
Shadow’s hand rose slowly to his chest, fingers clutching at his fur as he stared at the empty space Sonic had occupied just seconds ago.
Thump.
Ah… He’d really screwed up.
The realization hit him all at once, bringing with it something else entirely: an overwhelming, uncontainable surge of warmth. His face began to heat slowly and steadily, and there he stood, for God knew how long.
When Shadow returned home, he was greeted by the sound of Omega’s laughter echoing from the living room. The robot was sprawled on the couch, watching something—whatever it was, it seemed amusing enough to trigger that mechanical, booming chuckle.
Out on the balcony, Rouge stood with one hand resting against the railing, her voice low and smooth as she spoke over the phone, a faint smile playing on her lips. But the moment she turned and caught sight of Shadow stepping inside, she paused mid-conversation, pulling the phone slightly away.
“You’re back, hon. So? The chocolate—did you find someone suitable to give it to?”
But Shadow didn’t answer.
He looked… off. Dazed. His posture slack, his movements sluggish, like his body was moving without permission from his mind. He slipped off his shoes, barely acknowledging her, then walked straight past and disappeared into his room without another word.
Rouge frowned, lips curling slightly in confusion at the strange response. Then, with a small shrug, she returned to her call as if nothing had happened.
Inside his room, Shadow didn’t even bother with the lights. He dropped face-first onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he buried his muzzle into the sheets, dragging it slowly across the fabric. A faint, familiar smell of detergent hung in the air, yet it offered no comfort.
He was processing something.
And that, in itself, was unusual.
Shadow didn’t linger on thoughts like this. His mind was sharp, efficient—decisions came fast, conclusions faster. But now? It felt like he was stuck, replaying the same moment over and over again. Even his movements since earlier had felt… automatic. Like he’d been running on autopilot ever since that encounter.
He should’ve told Sonic.
He should have made it clear that the chocolate was his—something he made himself. If he had, maybe that hedgehog wouldn’t have praised it so freely. It had been his first attempt—just mixing ingredients he personally liked, working off instinct rather than precision.
And yet, he hadn’t even tasted it. Not once.
Meanwhile, Sonic—of all people, someone with arguably the simplest palate imaginable—had given a full, unsolicited review. That same idiot who dumped chili onto everything he ate, like some kind of culinary crime against nature.
So why did it matter? Why did his opinion feel so… significant?
It shouldn’t.
…Unless it did.
Shadow couldn’t stop the strange curve forming at the corner of his lips. It lingered there, stubborn, uninvited. That simple, blunt, sincere praise had struck something deep inside him.
An absurd image bloomed in his mind without warning: a vast chocolate factory stretching endlessly, with fountains of molten cocoa erupting into the air and raining down in rich, glossy streams. A ridiculous rainbow arching overhead like some overindulgent fantasy followed this.
“Hon, are you alright?”
Rouge’s voice cut cleanly through the image in his head. Reality snapped back into place. They were seated at the dinner table now.
Omega occupied his usual spot, consuming whatever specialized fuel passed as a meal for him. Rouge held her fork mid-air, watching Shadow carefully. His lips trembled slightly, as if he were suppressing something—something he himself didn’t quite understand.
“Are you in a… particularly good mood tonight?” she asked, then resumed eating.
Shadow spoke immediately, too quickly. “Do you still have the leftover chocolate ingredients from earlier?”
Rouge blinked, one brow lifting. “Of course. Why?”
“I intend to make more.”
And just like that, he picked up his utensils and began eating, completely ignoring the look of pure confusion etched across Rouge’s face.
“So,” she added casually, her tone laced with teasing, “who did you give the chocolate to?”
That made him pause. Shadow slowly lifted his head, meeting her gaze. There was a brief silence, just a second too long.
“…No one,” he said at last. Then he went back to his food.
Dinner ended like that—Rouge drowning in curiosity, Shadow faintly giddy in a way he refused to acknowledge, and Omega abruptly derailing the conversation by enthusiastically describing some destruction machine he’d seen in whatever show he’d been watching earlier.
…
The next morning, Rouge walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks.
Chocolate covered the entire table—boxes, wrappings, and rows upon rows of neatly arranged pieces. The air was thick with the rich, sweet, bitter, and overwhelming scent of cocoa. In the midst of everything, Shadow stood. His fur was faintly clinging with sweat, and there were streaks of chocolate smeared across him. The kitchen behind him resembled the aftermath of a controlled explosion. He looked proud.
Rouge stared, utterly stunned. “What in the Chaos’ is this, Shadow?” she demanded.
“I conducted experiments,” Shadow replied calmly, gesturing toward the rows of chocolate. “Various combinations of ingredients paired with chocolate.” He pointed to each in turn. “This one contains strawberry filling. This one, chili. Pistachio. Almond. And this—”
“Wait—wait—hold on!” Rouge cut him off, hands lifting in disbelief. “You stayed up all night making these? Why? What is going on with you?”
Shadow raised a finger, as if about to answer, then stopped. His mouth closed, and his expression tightened, frustration flickering across his face.
“...You’re right,” he muttered. “What is wrong with me? Why did I do this?”
Rouge crossed her arms, eyeing him skeptically. “Don’t tell me you like chocolate that much. Planning to become a chocolatier now?”
“No, that’s not it.” There was something uneasy about his tone. “I think something is wrong with me, Rouge.” Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her and hurried toward the door. “I need to get some air.”
He slipped on his shoes and left the apartment.
Rouge stood there for a moment, silent. Then, casually, she reached for one of the unwrapped chocolates and popped it into her mouth.
“...Mm,” she crooned. “Sweet~”
Shadow shot forward on his air shoes, the wind slicing past him in sharp, cutting streams. He cursed whatever was blooming in his chest, convinced he had to be sick, as there was no other explanation for his heart hammering like it was trying to claw its way out of his ribcage. Each beat was too loud, too erratic. This feeling was compounded by Rouge’s expression earlier, one of pure, unfiltered bewilderment as she stared at his chocolate incident.
The situation had spiraled far beyond his initial intentions.
His plan had been simple: experiment, refine, and create something offering a new sensation, a distinct flavor profile, and an experience that would linger after tasting. Something satisfying. Instead, all it took was one stupid, offhand compliment from that blue speedster to send him into a tailspin. Logically, he reasoned that if one batch had been good, more would be better, leading to increased variation and combinations. He believed that if he kept going, kept perfecting it, then perhaps whatever restless itch inside him would finally shut up.
Adding to his distress, he had actually enjoyed the process: the precision of testing ingredients, adjusting ratios, and balancing bitterness and sweetness until it reached that exact point of equilibrium. He had spent the entire night refining it, chasing perfection like a man possessed, the scent of cocoa soaking into the air, his fur, and everything around him.
However, morning brought the stark realization that he had made way too much chocolate. An absurd, excessive amount, enough to supply a small army. Naturally, this raised uncomfortable questions, which led to his current predicament.
Shadow was now tearing through the streets on his air shoes, skating at high speed with the ground blurring beneath him. He circled the area with zero regard for direction or sanity, wondering what he was even supposed to do with so much chocolate, especially since he didn’t even like it.
Was he going to give it away? To whom? Dump it on random agents at G.U.N. HQ like some deranged confectionery distributor? And what would he even say? “Happy Valentine’s”? It was already February 15th.
Damn it, this was all that faker’s fault. If Sonic hadn’t triggered this ridiculous hyperfixation with that stupid, sincere praise yesterday, Shadow wouldn’t be out here, losing control and skating in circles like a malfunctioning machine.
Just then, a flicker of blue streaked past the corner of his vision. Shadow’s head snapped to the side instantly. Of course, it was Sonic the Hedgehog.
He was casually enjoying a morning run, being the simple-minded idiot that he was. Of course, at seven in the morning, that’s what he’d be doing—running, existing, being a problem. And then—
CRASH.
Shadow plowed straight into a trash can. The impact rang out, metal clattering as the lid flew off and garbage spilled everywhere—wrappers, scraps, and something unidentifiable and deeply unpleasant.
Fantastic, Shadow thought. Absolutely humiliating.
This was the first time he’d ever lost focus mid-skate, the first time he’d failed to track the road ahead. He was definitely sick. There was no other explanation, even if it sounded ridiculous. As the Ultimate Lifeform, he was supposed to be immune to disease and resistant to viruses, so illness simply wasn’t supposed to apply to him.
However, there always had to be exceptions. The Metal Virus, for example, proved that he wasn’t immune to everything. Therefore, this must be something new—some unknown condition—and it had Sonic written all over it. That hedgehog traveled everywhere and was constantly exposed to who knows what. Of course he’d bring something back.
Shadow recalled Sonic mentioning a return from some cowboy homeland, and he wondered what that even meant. The Old West? Had Sonic somehow time traveled and contracted some bizarre frontier disease?
Suddenly, a human passerby stood a few feet away, staring at him. “Um, are you alright?” they asked. “You’re… covered in trash.”
Shadow blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.
Right, the situation.
He stood up immediately, brushing himself off with brisk, efficient movements, though not before peeling a banana peel off his forehead with visible irritation. He crouched and began gathering the scattered garbage, shoving it back into the bin with mechanical precision. The human didn’t stay, walking off while glancing back a few times, clearly deciding he was some kind of street-level anomaly. Nothing new for Shadow.
He slammed the lid shut, and then the air shifted. A gust of wind curled sharply around him. Impact. Sonic had stopped.
“Howdy—again, Shads,” Sonic greeted, lifting a hand casually. “Don’t see you out here this early often.”
Shadow froze, completely still.
He hadn’t expected Sonic, not at all. Wasn’t Sonic heading the other way? Shadow had seen him run off, so how could he be here?
“You smell like garbage, dude. What happened?” Sonic added, immediately covering his nose and turning his face away in exaggerated disgust. Shadow didn’t even bother turning fully toward him, just shot him a lethal glare.
“What do you want?”
That was all Shadow managed to say, his brain feeling like it was buffering, lagging behind his own body, which showed in the slight stiffness of his posture. Worse, his heartbeat had picked up again, loud and insistent, and he was busy trying, unsuccessfully, to slow it down. Looking at Sonic directly felt… unwise.
“Cold as ever,” Sonic replied, one brow dipping in mild amusement. “I just spotted you and figured I’d say hi. That’s it.” He studied the ebony hedgehog, who angled himself away from Sonic, as if the hedgehog couldn’t be bothered to exist in the same direction.
“Well, if you’re busy doing… whatever this is,” Sonic added with a shrug, “I’ll get going.”
He turned to leave, or at least tried to. “OW—!” Sonic yelped as his tail was suddenly grabbed and squeezed. He whipped around instantly, clutching it. “What was that for?!”
“May I ask you something?” Shadow said flatly.
Sonic blinked. “You didn’t need to crush my tail for that,” he muttered, still nursing the offended appendage.
Shadow responded with his usual grumpy stare—lethal, unimpressed, entirely unapologetic.
Sonic sighed. “Alright, alright. Go ahead, Shads. You’re starting to freak me out a little.” Shadow finally turned to face him fully, their eyes locking. Sonic swallowed.
“…Did you finish the chocolate from yesterday?” Shadow asked.
Oh. That’s what this was about. Sonic let out a relieved breath, his shoulders loosening.
“Yeah, of course I did. Don’t tell me you’re still mad I took your Valentine’s chocolate yesterday. Come on, man—get over it. It’s already in my stomach.” He patted his stomach with unnecessary pride.
“Good,” Shadow said.
Sonic blinked. “…Good?”
Shadow cleared his throat. “Ahem. I mean—how dare you! Eating someone else’s chocolate.” His expression snapped right back into its default scowl, complete with a deep crease between his brows.
“Relax, bro. It just happened to match my taste, that’s all.” Sonic flashed his signature grin.
Meanwhile, Shadow’s brain finally finished loading—and immediately delivered the unfortunate update that he smelled like a landfill.
Right. Trash collision.
He stepped back abruptly.
Sonic noticed. “What?”
“…My scent is… compromised,” Shadow said stiffly. “If you intend to mock me, do it properly. Stop covering your nose like that.”
“Oh.” Sonic lowered his hand. “No, seriously—that wasn’t on purpose. Reflex, I guess.” He inhaled deeply—deliberately. “See? You don’t smell at all.” He grinned.
Shadow’s internal attempt at stabilizing his heart rate collapsed instantly.
Completely useless.
This was it. This had to be it. Some kind of new, undocumented virus. One that could bypass even the defenses of the Ultimate Lifeform. Symptoms included erratic heartbeat, impaired judgment, and an unhealthy preoccupation with chocolate and one very specific blue idiot. Possibly fatal, and definitely suspicious. He was going to need a medical evaluation.
Immediately.
"So, uh," Sonic interrupted his thoughts suddenly, ”you still got more of that chocolate?”
“…What?”
“I mean, the taste kinda stuck with me,” Sonic admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Figured I’d ask who made it. Maybe I can track them down and convince them—very heroically—to make me another batch.”
Thump! THUMP!
Shadow's heart started breakdancing again. His hand drifted absentmindedly to his chest.
"Was it that good?" he asked.
“Yeah, it was amazing,” Sonic said without hesitation. “You should’ve tried it. Uh—sorry again for stealing it, by the way.” He winced slightly. “So yeah, just tell me who made it and we’ll go talk to them.”
…
Silence.
Shadow didn’t respond. Sonic shifted, suddenly uneasy. He waved a hand in front of him. “Hello? You still in there?”
“Wait here,” Shadow said abruptly.
“What?”
“I said. Wait.”
He vanished in a blur of motion, his air shoes carving a sharp streak through the air as he disappeared from sight.
Sonic stared at the empty space, muttering, “...Oookayyy.”
After waiting for too long, Sonic began to pace and stretch. Finally, he found himself staring at the sky as if he might fight the sun out of sheer boredom. Where the hell is he anyway?
Just then, a streak returned: Shadow. He approached rapidly, a large tote bag slung over his shoulder, its fabric bulging as if it contained contraband from a very enthusiastic dessert factory. He stopped abruptly, directly in front of Sonic.
“Man, where’d you go? I was this close to dying of boredom,” Sonic complained.
The tote bag was abruptly shoved into his chest.
“—HEY!”
Sonic grabbed it just before it hit the ground, his fingers curling around the straps. Peeking inside, he discovered chocolate. A lot of chocolate. An unreasonable amount, in fact, with boxes, wrappings, and variations. It was enough sugar to destabilize an entire city.
“What is this, Shad?”
“The person who made the chocolate had more,” Shadow said evenly. “Now I am giving it to you. Do whatever you want with it.”
“…Wait—”
“I’m leaving.”
And just like that, Shadow was gone again. Sonic stood there, holding the tote bag as if he had just been handed custody of a small cocoa-producing nation. His mouth was slightly open and his brain was struggling to keep up.
“…Huh?”
Shadow returned to the apartment in record time, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to his room, whistling faintly under his breath as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Rouge watched the entire thing with narrowed eyes.
Just minutes ago, he had stormed in, grabbed all the chocolate he’d painstakingly made, shoved it into a tote bag, and left again—still smelling faintly like a garbage-themed tragedy. She hadn’t even finished asking where he’d been before he vanished.
Now he was back. Acting obviously normal.
Suspicious. Extremely suspicious.
She turned slowly to Omega. The robot didn’t even look at her.
“HEART RATE: ELEVATED. AUDITORY ANALYSIS INDICATES RAPID BEATING. CONCLUSION: SUBJECT IS IN A POSITIVE MOOD.”
Rouge blinked.
"...Yeah, you'd tell me." She crossed her arms. "Where do you think he took all that chocolate?" It was actually good. Like—dangerously good.” She smiled slyly and raised an eyebrow at Omega. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Omega?”
“I DO NOT BELIEVE SO,” Omega replied immediately. Then he stood. “I WILL BE LEAVING. WAITING FOR SHADOW TO FINISH PREPARING IS INEFFICIENT AND BORING.”
With that, he opened the door and walked out.
Rouge sighed.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen: Andrius. "Oh, hey, darling. Are you picking me up? All right, all right, I'm coming down." She grabbed her things and headed out, the door clicking shut behind her.
…
Meanwhile, in the bathroom…
Hot water cascaded over Shadow’s fur, filling the steamy space and fogging the mirror and tiles. Finally, he allowed himself to smile widely and freely. It spread across his face before he could stop it and lingered as if he’d been holding it back for far too long.
But then, as he realized what he was doing, reality caught up with him, and the smile faded. His expression tightened, and he slammed his fist against the wall with a sharp thud.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?!”