The music belted out in the halls of their home, pastel blue, the windows dusted with crystal, the hedgehogs sleeping quietly in their beds, as the turntable continued to croon Bing Crosby and other old musicians that were as old and gray as the winter snow. The blue hedgehog, his turpentine eyes staring out at the fog, the lights that had glowed in the streets like incandescent eyes, he put on his slippers while Shadow slept soundly, moving and rustling in his nest. He didn't tell him of what his present would be. His lids were completely shut, masked by darkness, and he was quiet, as quiet as the streets outside.

He layered himself with red and white clothes, with the slippers slipped on some holly, and the din of the golden gramophone had grown louder, chaotic, as the snow blew so hard that God had cherry cheeks.

Shadow soon awoke, his own shadow lingering on the walls, and as he got up, it moved along with him, the shadow that had a sharp bladed smile, with hands that reached out for his. He was still mournful, oh so mournful ever since the death of his friends, and as the music, the rustling of wrapping paper, the laughter and the snow had grown louder, he couldn't sleep any longer, and had chosen to see what his friend could possibly be doing, on a mournful Christmas such as this.

Eggs had crackled! The bacon sizzled! He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted his friend happy, and no longer full of sorrow. His hands were laced with his tears, too much of them, and he had wanted to lift his spirits, as Christmas was knocking on their door, and he had to let them in.

"Sonic…what is the meaning of this? You didn't had to do all this. I don't even know what the occasion is."

Sonic smiled, as bright as his shadow. "It's Christmas. You don't know what Christmas is, Shadow? It's a wonderful holiday where you spend time with your family, give presents, receive presents, and just have a fun time with them. I consider you my family, Shadow. You always were."

He handed him the plate of eggs, with the yolk eyeballs and meaty smile, and Shadow had thought that Sonic couldn't think he was 8 years old again. Last he was 8, he and Maria played many games together, but as her father had grown more strict with his creation and daughter, they soon couldn't celebrate Christmas. He considered it a Christian holiday. He soon no longer believed in God, as he had committed sins against him with his synthetic creations.

"You don't have to be Christian to celebrate Christmas Shadow. A lot of people celebrate it anyways."

Shadow poked his food with the fork, letting the egg yolk bleed onto the bacon. It reminded him too much of painful memories, on the soon drowning madness that Gerald had suffered. He soon became fully insane when Maria was shot and killed. And so did he.

"Shadow, I got a present for you."

He remembered when they once opened presents too. It seemed too long ago. But Shadow had said nothing, and held it delicately in his hands, wondering what it is.

He unwrapped it, slowly, savoring every last second he spent celebrating Christmas all over again. As he unearthed it from the soil of the wrapping paper, there was a box, and as he lifted the lid, it was a golden heart, wrapped in a shell of metal, so dense, barely scratched by idling hands, and as he held it in his hand as if it was a newborn infant, it had cried out a song, a song that he knew that Maria had sung him when he was so small, so long ago…

"Merry Christmas, Shad."

He tried to hide his tears, as the song had continued to bleat delicately, and he could feel it beating, along with his own heart.

The din had died away, to the sounds of the child who was senselessly murdered, long ago.

AN: Merry Christmas to all of my readers. I'm sorry so many of them were dark, but I wasn't exactly in a great mood writing some of those.

I hope all of you have a fun time with your family, and you get all kinds of things and a lot of cheer. If you want to make me a bit happy, you can tell me what you think of the stories, and even if it's criticism, I will take it. I'm sorry to the ones who had criticized the story that they didn't like it, but while I will heed one's advice on the whole "He" sentence starter issue, I just think I should include a note saying if a story is dark or not.

Thank you for reading, and God bless.