All characters belong to Sega/Archie except my OCs.

Chapter 17

I loved rainy days. Ever since I was younger, I adored sitting by the window and listening to the droplets pat against the window. Sometimes my babysitters would let me go outside and play in the wet weather. I'd splash into large puddles with my rain boots or tilt my head back and bask in the water falling on my skin. The distinct scent of fresh rain on the concrete mixed with the cold droplets' kisses on my face liberated me from the expectations of the world around me. In those small moments, I felt like I could be anything in the world.

Although I don't jump at the chance to dance in the rain anymore, I still enjoyed the serene tapping on the window and the gloomy blue light shining through my window. As I sat at my desk, typing away at my personal project, the rain inspired my imagination to roam. My fingers moved rapidly across my keyboard, creating a world that could only ever truly exist in my own mind. I hadn't gotten a chance to escape to this world lately. I'd been so busy with school and helping Shadow. I'd almost forgotten how safe I felt in this reality. Despite the abundance of dangers and inevitable conflicts, the warmth and security of the diverse personalities made me feel at home.

I'd fallen so deep into the detailed images in my mind that I barely heard my mother knocking on my room door. My eyes remained glued to the screen, unaware of her presence.

Her hand gently tapped my shoulder, and I nearly had a heart attack. I slammed my laptop shut and tugged out my ear buds.

Surprisingly, there was a firm frown on my mother's lips. "Come downstairs," she said. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

My stomach swirled into a knot. What could they possibly want to talk to me about? I'd straightened out my behavior in school. The cracks in my mask were repaired. I'd returned to pretending to be the charismatic, intelligent, and charming classmate. Whichever teacher who'd called in the original observation surely received a solution to their concerns. I was fine.

Unless the nurse called my parents about my episode a few weeks ago. Though I doubted it, I couldn't rule out the possibility. She never failed to send me a look of sympathy whenever I walked by her office. I wouldn't be surprised if she called to follow-up with my parents.

I followed my mother downstairs to my father's study.

He sat behind his desk with a frown identical to my mother's. I knew the fire in his eyes all too well. The sight tightened the knot in my stomach.

"Is everything okay?" I asked innocently.

My father opened a drawer and pulled out an abundance of large envelopes. He tossed them on his desk.

Shit, I thought as I recognized the various letterheads.

"I found these in your room the other day," my mom said. She walked to stand beside my father. "Want to tell me why they were hidden away in your drawer?"

"Why were you snooping in my room?" I asked.

"I saw Cornell's letter in the mail when I came home on Thursday. At this time of the school year, I knew there was bound to be others." She waved her hand across the acceptance letters. "And here they are."

I crossed my arms against my chest. "You shouldn't have gone through my stuff. You could've just asked me."

"And listen to your lies," my father asked. He chuckled. "No, no, no. This isn't something you keep secret, son."

"We're disappointed you hid this from us," my mother added. "We thought you'd be happy when each of these came in. We wanted to celebrate with you."

My brows came together. "You did?"

"Of course, sweetie." A smile spread across her lips. "Acceptance into all of these schools is an honor." She approached me and cupped my face in her hands. "We're so proud of you."

"You…you are?"

She nodded. "Yes, honey. This is a huge accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself."

I slowly formed a smile. "Really?"

"It's always nice to feel wanted by such prestigious schools." She released my cheeks. "But we all know where you're going to end up."

"Wait, you do?"

"Sure," my father's voice boomed. "You're going to Harvard, aren't you?"

The color flushed from my face. "I…I don't know."

My parents exchanged a creased brow. My mother took a few steps away from me. She leaned against my father's desk and crossed her arms. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Harvard is a great school…one of the best schools, but I…" Their expectant gazes wrapped a noose around my neck. The rope tightened with every passing second. "I don't know if…if that's where I want to be…"

My father raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"It's so far from here. I…I don't want to be too far from Manic."

"Manic will be okay. He'll still be here when you come home for the holidays and the summer."

"I know, but I'd like to stay close."

"All of the Ivy League schools are a good distance away," my mother commented. "Honey, unfortunately, you're going to have to live on campus. I understand you're going to miss your brother, but you can still call him and visit when you're not busy."

"But I…I don't want to attend an Ivy League school."

Both winced as if I'd shot them. My mother's brows curled up in worry, and my father's disappointed glare took shape.

"What do mean you don't want to go…?" My mother seemed to be at a loss for words. "Why wouldn't you? Do you know remarkable it is to attend such a distinguished institution? Especially for people like us?"

I looked down. "Yes, I understand how awarding it is, but I… I don't think it's the right choice for me."

"Why not?" My father's voice was laced with ice. "Each of those schools have stellar academic programs and talented basketball teams. Most of these Ivy Leagues are offering you a full athletic scholarship along with additional money based on your academic achievements. You wouldn't have to spend a dime!"

"Some of the other schools in that pile are offering me the same thing," I countered. "I'm not worried about money or scholarships or accreditation."

"Well you should be," my father snapped. "You've worked too damn hard to go to some mediocre university and play for a team that doesn't deserve your talent. Someone of your intelligence and ability belongs at Harvard."

"No," I said firmly. "Someone of my intelligence and ability belongs at a school where they can be themselves."

My father scoffed. "You aren't yourself at school? In the classroom, you're not the person answering questions and absorbing every inch of information? On the court, you're not the person scoring three-pointers and making slam dunks? With your friends, you're not the person laughing and conversing? The person your mother and I raised, isn't you?"

I gritted my teeth. "You don't know who I am."

A sinister smile replaced his glare. "No, I do. Underneath that big brain and legendary skills, you're a faggot who fantasizes about imaginary worlds with princes and demons and anything else he considers attractive."

"Jules," my mother scolded. "Don't call him that."

"Well, he is," my father yelled. He rose from his seat. "Our son is a fucking fairy who doesn't know how to cope with success." His eyes flared with rage. "How many opportunities have we given you to be the greatest person you can be? Huh? Private schools! Basketball camps! Your own car! Internships! Yet, you never fail to disappoint us!"

My body shook from the verbal blows. The noose around my neck blocked my air flows, restricting any air from reaching my lungs. Tears threatened to form in my eyes from the pain. I needed to leave. I needed to get out of here. But I was paralyzed under my father's livid gaze.

"For once, Sonic, for fucking once, why can't you just be normal? Why can't you make the right choice and show us your gratitude for all we've done for you? All this shit is to help you! Don't you want to be successful?"

"Yes," I murmured.

"Then why can't you follow the goddamn blueprint we've set for you? Is that so fucking hard?"

"Jules," my mother whispered. She set a hand on my father's white knuckles. "Relax." Her cold eyes dragged towards me. "Sonic, we understand this is a tough decision. Having all these opportunities must be overwhelming. But you must realize there's only a select few choices here that are meant for you." She sorted through the piles and gathered a couple of the envelopes. Harshly, she shoved them into my arms. "We'll give you a week or so to make a decision."

The envelopes were concrete bricks in my arms. Their weight tugged on my muscles and tested my strength. With the grip around my neck and the fire burning behind my eyes, I was shocked I could hold them. The paper shook in unison with the trembles in my arms. I glanced between my parents, waiting for another attack.

To my relief, and despair, my parents were silent. My mother turned her back to me as she walked towards the window. My father glared at me, his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust and animosity.

I took their silence as a cue for dismissal. My eyes remained glued to the floor as I exited the room. I jogged upstairs, dropped the envelopes on my bed and stepped into my sneakers. On the way back down the steps, I tugged on a hoodie. From the stairwell, my parents' voices were clear.

He's such a disappointment.

I don't understand where we went wrong.

Why can't he just be normal?

Maybe we should try counseling again.

We should've never sent him to that fucking basketball camp.

There's still time, Jules. Maybe he –

He's not going to change. He's a goddamn disaster. At his age, there's nothing more we can do to fix it.

I realized I failed to grab an umbrella when the rain hit my skin. The brisk droplets soaked through the thick cloth of my hoodie and kissed my pale cheeks. My Jordan's suffered from the puddles I stepped in. Beneath the fabric, my socks grew soggy and uncomfortable.

At first, I thought my blurry vision was a result of the pouring rain. Then, I tasted salt on my lips. My head hung in shame from the realization. I shouldn't be crying. I was stronger than that. Still, I couldn't manage to convince my brain to cease the tears from falling.

I don't know how long I walked. I didn't know where I was going. I barely knew where I was. I just needed to be alone for a while. Not to think, but to simply exist. As were the times in the past, it was a miserable existence filled with anguish and self-hatred. But it was better to let the emotions run ramped for a few hours than hold them inside. Especially when they were so menacing and destructive.

One part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and stay there for the rest of eternity. An unfeeling, unwanted waste of space. Another part of me wanted to walk into the middle of the road and thank God for the first car that struck me. Death might not have been an answer to my problems, but the pain of breaking bones might help to distract me from the monsters in my head.

The loud rumble of a motorcycle freed me from my trance. For a moment, I thought I'd given in to my brain's horrid thoughts. I froze in my spot and waited for the brutal impact. Instead, I was met with an incredulously spoken question.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I turned my head in the direction of the rumble. I nearly crawled out of my skin at the sight of my English partner's astonished expression.

He straddled his motorcycle, both feet planted firmly on the concrete. He held his helmet in one hand, allowing the rain to glue his curls to his forehead.

"Walking," I replied. I mustered the strength to feign a smile. "I'm just walking."

"In the rain," he asked. "Where's your umbrella?"

"Oh, I forgot it at home."

His eyes traveled to my shoulders. "You're shivering," he commented.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he said firmly. "Stop lying to me." He nodded his head to the side. "Get on the bike."

"What? Why?"

"I'm taking you home."

"No," I yelled a bit too quickly – and fearfully. The rope around my neck yanked against my windpipe at the thought of returning to my parents' disgusted gazes. "I…I don't want to go home."

His expression softened. "Okay. I won't take you home. Just…get on the bike. You're going to catch a cold if you stay out here."

Hesitantly, I took a step towards the vehicle. I carefully threw my leg over the seat and sat behind him.

He twisted the best he could and handed me his helmet. "Wear this."

"No," I said. "Keep it."

He didn't argue. He slipped the helmet over his head and revved the engine. "Hold on to me," he commanded.

"What?"

He grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms around his waist. He securely locked my fingers between each other.

In doing so, my cheek slammed against his shoulder and my chest collided with his back. If all the heat hadn't vanished from my body, I would've blushed. In its absence, I could only stare in confusion.

He didn't give me another moment to debate. He pressed the bike forward and sped off into the darkness.

For the short ride, my eyes remained closed and my head lay pressed against his shoulder blade. I tried to forget who I was and where I was. Rather, I focused on the cool rain splashing on my face and Shadow's distinct scent intruding my nostrils. I noted the bulging muscles in his abdomen and the curve of the bones in his back. The recognition brought some warmth to my stomach. Not enough to deter my emptiness, but enough to distract myself from it.

Within a few minutes, we arrived at a small townhouse near the edge of town. I didn't recognize the rows of other townhouses identical to it nor the small park at the end of the block. On a usual day, this might worry me. Now, I couldn't care less.

Shadow dragged me inside the house. Upon entering, hints of fried rice and hot sauce bombarded my nose. My soaked attire clung to my wet skin, and I realized how cold I was. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself to comfort myself from the trembles.

He guided me into the dark living room, flicking one of the small lamps on as we passed it. Gently, he shoved me onto the couch. "Lift up your arms."

"But –"

"You're going to freeze if you leave your jacket on."

Sighing, I obeyed his command.

Cautiously, he peeled my dripping hoodie off me. He frowned at the damp tee shirt beneath it. "I'll be right back," he promised. He disappeared into the hallway.

I listened to his footsteps dash up the steps. The wooden floor creaked under his boots as he pattered around upstairs. In a minute or so, his footsteps thumped back down.

He appeared in the doorway with multiple blankets in his arms. Wordlessly, he created a thick cocoon of blankets around my quivering body. His brows came together in concentration as he formed the warm rolls. He made sure to tuck each blanket firmly around my shoulders to avoid them from falling off. "Would you like some tea?" He asked once he was finished.

I shook my head. "Nah. I…I'm good."

He ignored my statement. He rose from his seat and disappeared into the kitchen.

If I had control over my body, I would've rolled my eyes. To occupy my thoughts, I glanced around the small living room. Family photos decorated the pale blue walls. Professional portraits of Shadow and his brothers were most prominent. In a few of the others, I could spot Shadow's mother standing beside his uncle. One was of the two of a young age. They were clad in a dress and suit with a mutual color. Another caught a moment of them dancing at Shadow's mother's wedding. Shadow's uncle held a proud smile as he looked down at his sister in her silk white dress. My eyes lingered on a photo of Shadow with his uncle and brothers. His uncle stood on his knees in the middle of the photo. Shadow stood between his uncle's knees, wrapped in the older man's arms. His brothers stood on either side of their uncle, one with their elbow on his shoulder and the other with his arms crossed. A unique smile lay on each of their faces.

"You're breathing weird," Shadow's voice rang.

I froze as his hand crept beneath the blankets to examine my chest.

"Your heart is beating a mile a minute."

I glanced at the worried crease between his brows. "I'm fine," I murmured.

"Stop lying to me," Shadow sharply replied. "I need you to be honest with me." His voice softened. "Please, tell me the truth."

I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes. The sincerity and kindness in his eyes were novel. Their warmth created small embers in his red eyes. "No," I whispered almost inaudibly. "I'm not okay."

"What's wrong?"

My eyes fell to the floor. "It's stupid."

He scooted closer. "It's not stupid if you're reacting this way."

My parents' words echoed through my head.

Disappointment.

Disaster.

Faggot.

The last one stirred an uneasy swirl in my stomach. "I...I don't know how to say it."

His hand settled on my back. "That's okay. We don't have to talk about it right now. Is it okay if I sit with you until you're ready?"

Tears returned to my eyes at the question. I squeezed them shut and hid my face between the blankets. I tried to swallow the sobs crawling up my throat, but I ended up choking. The pain increased the moisture forming behind my lids.

"Hey," he whispered. He tugged the blankets away from my cheeks. "Don't hide."

My voice got stuck between the clog of sobs in my esophagus. No words came out of my gaping lips. A soft whine replaced it.

He moved even closer, our legs pressing against each other. His hand traced across my back, grasping the shoulder furthest from him. "You're still shaking," he said. "Are you still cold?"

I shook my head.

He stripped some of the blankets from my cocoon. "Better?"

My eyes found his again. "Thank...thank you," I managed to speak, my voice low and cracked. "For being so nice to me."

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "Of course."

With my head turned, I hadn't realized how close he was. Now, peering into his gentle rubies, I noticed the lack of distance between our noses - between our lips. His breaths were even and soft against my lips. It was a huge contrast to my deep, jagged ones. His heat wrapped around me like a blanket, an addition to the cocoon was I wrapped in. In its grasp, I was secure and warm. Mesmerized by the sensation, I leaned closer to him.

A loud whistle jolted us apart. Shadow's wide eyes mirrored mine. He glanced around the room, searching for the culprit. "Ah shit," he murmured. "I forgot about the tea." He reluctantly stood. "I'll be right back."

The ice of my mind froze my body in his absence. I gathered a few of the blankets he'd discarded and returned them to their rightful places in my shelter. As opposed to easing my body, the weight reminded me of the true comfort I wanted.

My thoughts drifted to a few moments before. His fingers' tight grip on my shoulder. His denim-clad leg, though damp from the weather, pressed against mine. His lips so close I could taste the mint from his gum. I closed my eyes with a sigh, anticipating the return of such touch.

Shadow took longer to return than I liked. For a moment, I worried about the action I'd taken before he left. Had he noticed what I was about to do? Was he shocked? Was he disgusted? Or was he just as frustrated and startled as I was when the stupid teapot rang?

When Shadow finally returned, he held a large mug in his hand. Waves of steam blossomed from the top, and the sweet scent of cinnamon and apples filled the room. He pushed the hot cup into my hands. "I put creamer and sugar in it. Is that alright?"

I nodded. "Thank you." I took a sip of the steaming drink. A moan of delight nearly escaped my lips. He'd made it just right.

He sat down farther away from me this time, leaning his back against the cushions. "Are you feeling better?"

"A little," I admitted.

He tilted his head. "What made you so upset?"

I fixed my gaze on the tea. "My parents found my stack of college acceptance letters. I was hiding them in my drawer. They weren't happy about it."

"They weren't happy about you hiding the letters or they weren't happy about the decisions you were making based off those letters?"

"A little bit of both. Mainly the decision aspect."

"Why?"

"They want me to go to an Ivy League school. Preferably Harvard since I actually got in. But I...I don't know if that's the right choice for me."

"Why not?"

"It's so far and...it's going to be so much like West Brook and I...I don't know if I want a repeat of high school."

"Where would you like to go?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere more diverse, that's for sure. I'm tired of being one of five black people in an entire grade." I paused. "I was considering Howard for a while. I applied, and they're offering me an athletic scholarship. It's not too far from here. And it pours out the black excellence my parents want me to be. But I know my parents would kill me if I committed there."

"Fuck your parents," Shadow said. "They shouldn't make you feel bad about where you want to start building your future. This is your decision. Don't let them take it away from you or make you feel bad about it."

I scoffed. "That's easier said than done. My parents can be...cruel...when they want to be."

His brows came together. "Don't tell me they beat on you."

"No, no, no. Nothing like that. Even if they did, I'm sure their words hurt much more than their fists would."

He frowned. He closed the distance between us, his shoulder crushing against mine. "I'm sorry, Sonic."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. It's my fault. It always has been." My voice lowered. "I'm just not good enough."

"Don't say that," he scolded. "You are more than good enough."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm not. It's true; you're way more talented than you give yourself credit for."

I shrugged.

"Look at me, Sonic."

Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes were lit with a novel intensity, burning through his crimson irises like wildfire. I'd never seen such a look from him before. But I recognized such a gaze from one other in the past. My heart rammed against my chest as the images of the two blurred together.

"Do you know how fucking smart you are? You can write an A-worthy paper in an hour. With every single novel we've read in English class over the years, you always manage to come up with some beautifully worded interpretation or question or explanation of a little detail no one else noticed. You ace every single test in every class. You're fucking brilliant.

"And you're a phenomenal basketball player. I've only been to a few games over the years, but you've always stolen the spotlight. You're fast and strategic. One minute, you're breaking someone's ankles, and the next, you're nailing a three-pointer. None of the other teams ever stand a chance against you.

"And you're genuinely a good person. I know we started off rough this year, but you've never been anything but nice to others around you. You're always offering a smile to someone else - even when you don't have the energy to do so. I see you working with the annoying perfectionists on student council and tolerating the basketball meatheads, and you're always so patient and kind. Everyone idolizes you because you're such a nice guy."

He squeezed my shoulder. "No matter where you go to college or what profession you choose, you're going to do great things. Don't ever let your parents or anyone else tell you differently. You're a great person, and you're going to be okay."

I stared into his pools of wine for a long moment. "You...you think I'm a great...a great person?"

He smiled. "Yes. I know it took me a while, but...I do." He paused. "I don't admire a lot of people, but I...I do admire you."

My cheeks burned. I lost myself in the spell of his red eyes, the orange light of the lamp emphasizing the gentle flames in his irises. I listened to their silent calls, moving in closer to him.

I failed to ask the question with my own irises. Instead, I decided to surprise myself with his response. It was a stupid decision, but I didn't care.

Wordlessly, I closed the distance between us and pressed my trembling lips against his.