She was fourteen when they said she needed glasses. It made her terribly nervous, that first day with them on. Her face turned this lovely shade of amber whenever someone looked her way.
Did he notice? No.
She was fifteen when she stopped wearing red dresses. It was a gradual thing, the transition. She slowly changed her choice of palette to orange, then to blue, then to green, and then she began wearing something different altogether. Similar pattern; orange jacket and blue jeans, then blue jacket and blue jeans, and then green jacket and blue jeans.
Did he notice? Of course not. He never cared. Not in the way she wanted, anyway.
Did he comfort her when she was scared, when she was embarrassed? No. Did he slip on a fake pair of spectacles to make her feel like there was someone who knew her pain, to let her believe that she was not alone? No. Did he compliment her on her change of style, her new look? No.
Who was there to tell her, "Hey, you look good in glasses." Who was there to say, "Cool jacket, Amy." Who the devil was the one who said, "Don't cry. He's just not into you like that. He doesn't deserve you."
Not Sonic.
I was the one that watched her, the one that helped her, the one who picked her up when she fell down. I was the one who turned bright red when she found out that my glasses were fake, the one who smiled sheepishly when she discovered that I had only been trying to make her feel better. I was the one who protested when she forced me to wear her jacket that winter afternoon, the one who told her she was being stupid to let me wear it, the one who put his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm as the snow fell. I was the one who wiped the tears from her eyes, those beautiful jade eyes, the one who embraced her as gently as possible as she sobbed.
'Why, Shadow, why would he say no?'
There's absolutely no reason why he would say no, Rose. No reason at all.
"God, you're desperate."
"Rouge!" I was growling, seething with humiliation-fueled rage, "Give that back, now!"
"Easy, Mister Doom-and-Gloom," she laughed, crossing her legs and leaning back in my rolling chair. My chair. "I think it's cute."
I tore the green notebook from her dainty, painted fingers. "I don't care what you think," I lied, blushing furiously. "I only care that you stay away from my private documents."
Why had I agreed to let her into my house? She was nothing but trouble, that bloody bat. Sexy trouble, some might say, but trouble nonetheless. Study for tomorrow's exam, she had said, I could really use your help on this next test, she had said. Of all the lying…
"So," she interrupted my thoughts, wearing that smile I knew all too well. "You've got a thing for that Rose-girl, huh?"
I resisted the urge to ask her so what if I do, and instead said, "I don't want to talk about it."
Rouge raised her gloved palms in defense and shook her head. "Say no more. I just thought you might want some juicy insider-info." She cocked an eyebrow and pointed one of her sea-blue eyes in my direction as if to goad me into begging her for advice.
It didn't work. "I'll keep it in mind. Now shut up. We have work to do."
"You have such a way with words, Shadow. It melts my heart."
"Number twenty-five. Find the square root of x."
"Smart and handsome. How do you keep the women off you?"
High-school romance. How can you get any more cliché? I guess if I was a vampire, then that might do it. But I'm not. I'm a hedgehog. The ultimate life form, to be more precise.
I'm not going to say that I have a crush on Amy Rose, because that would be stupid. I will instead say that I find myself infatuated with her personality, features, and presence. I am aware that she is obsessed with Sonic the hedgehog, and I am fairly certain that she thinks of me as only a friend. If I end my life as nothing more than her good friend Shadow, I will be content.
That doesn't mean I don't want to be more than that.
And I can only assume that if you are reading this, Rouge has finally betrayed me. Blasted bat…
It was the day of our dreaded Algebra 2 exam when events began to unfold, in my favor or otherwise. I arrived early, as usual, and sat down in the commons area. The dark booth in the corner of the room. I was reading a particularly good Gothic novel when Rouge sat down across from me. I could recognize her without glancing up from the pages of my book, partially because I had grown accustomed to her sitting at my table every morning, and partially due to the fact that any man with half-decent hearing could sense her coming. Those high-heels and their incessant clicking…
"Shadow," she said.
I turned a page and nodded automatically. "Rouge."
"Get your head out of that book, would you?" she demanded. "I prefer to talk to my friends face-to-face."
Just another way of saying that she liked to play with her prey before she killed it. "Only because you asked so nicely," I said with a fake smirk. I hoped she couldn't see the dark circles beneath my eyes; last night's event concerning my journal had left me restless.
"I have one question for you," she beamed as she pulled my book away and set it down beside her seat. "Are you serious about Amy?"
I had been half-awake before, but that query hit me like a splash of cold water. "I thought I said I didn't want to talk about it," I reiterated, unconsciously checking the corners of my vision for anyone who might have been listening.
"Yeah, yeah," she waved my frustration away like a bad smell as she talked, "I heard. But you didn't answer me."
"Of course I'm serious," I admitted, more to get rid of her than to give her any satisfaction. "Now can we not talk about it, please?"
Rouge grinned evilly. "Only because you asked so nicely," she mocked, handing my book back.
I snatched it away and found my page. "Whatever."
"What are you reading, anyways?"
"Edgar Allan Poe."
"Morbid. Girls don't dig that, Shadow."
"I'm trying to read, Rouge."
"Unless you're going for the Goth-look, then you're headed in the right direction…"
"Rouge."
"Maybe Amy likes the quiet, emo-type."
I flustered and felt my face turn beet-red. "Rouge!" I snapped.
She laughed, and I buried my face deeper into the pages. Deep down, I knew that whatever was going to happen, it would happen soon. And it probably wouldn't be for the better.
