It started out small. Every time he looked at her, there was a strange fluttering in his stomach. Whenever she did something particularly endearing, his face would heat up, and his heart beat a little faster. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. He found himself making excuses to see her more often, under the pretense of needing her help with this or that trivial matter.

However, as time passed, the fluttering was replaced with chest pains. Chest pains were always the first symptom; the uncomfortable feeling that your lungs were being tightened. Or perhaps filled. Filled with… with something. Something rooted firmly in your chest that you couldn't yet identify.

He didn't realize he was sick until the day he coughed up the first petal, a single rose petal, slippery and slick with his saliva. He stared in horror as it fell from his mouth.

Hanahaki disease - a physical manifestation of lovesickness.

No.

No no no no no.

This had to be a mistake, right? This can't be real. But when he tries to breathe in, his chest constricts again, and he enters another coughing fit. This time, two petals come up and flutter to the ground.

Shadow startles awake gasping for air, as he did so many mornings these days. His body lurched forward as his shuddering coughs echoed through the emptiness of his room.

He rushed to the restroom, hunched over the toilet, and emptied his lungs.

It's been two months since the first petal incident. Two months since he realized he is in love with Amy Rose.

Her soft quills, darling smile, kind heart, and compassionate nature had captivated him.

At first, the disease was bearable. He would cough up only one or two petals at a time, but as his love continued to blossom, more petals came up. Now he coughed up whole flowers mixed with blood.

Red was all that Shadow could see as he bent over the porcelain bowl. He began to hack more harshly, more blood spilling out of his mouth and striking the water.

His body trembled with every attempt he made to push the roses out of his lungs, and tears welled up in his eyes from the exertion.

Once the violent hacking finally calmed down, Shadow took a deep breath and peered at the tiny roses floating in the water. Each flower, at least those not stained with blood, is a gentle pink.

He forced himself to stand on shaky legs and stood still for a moment to be sure no more petals would come up before flushing the toilet and returning to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, the all-too-familiar aftertaste of blood and roses lingering in his mouth.

He really should have known better than to fall for someone so full of light.

How dare he even entertain the idea of those lovely emerald eyes being fixated on him? He has no right to dare dream of being permitted to hold her hand. No right to consider the possibility that she would ever see him the same way he sees her. As gentle and sweet as Amy is, the feelings would always be one-sided. She'll be sad that he's in pain, perhaps even devastated, but she could never make herself fall in love with Shadow.

Her heart belonged to another, the blue hero who raced through life without looking back. Sonic would always be her first choice, the lucky bastard.

As if on cue, Shadow's chest began flaring up. He could feel a cough slowly start to crawl up his throat, but he swallowed it back down, willing his body to cooperate.

The flowers hurt, but they wouldn't kill him. Of course they wouldn't. His healing factor won't let him die that easily.

That almost made it worse.

He knew about the removal process to have the flowers and the feelings cut out of him. It would be so easy to make this all go away, but Shadow knew he'd never be able to go through with it. Every time he thought about getting the surgery, his heart protested against the idea. He had never felt this way about anyone before in his life. How could he disregard that and have the flowers removed? How could he let himself forget about everything beautiful he saw in her? Yes, it hurts to love Amy, but the thought of giving her up was unbearable.

But someday, his condition would get to the point where he couldn't conceal it anymore, and then what would he do? Confess his selfish feelings to a girl whose heart belonged to someone else? How could he tell her that she, through no fault of her own, was hurting him?

No. He would never do that, no matter how desperately his emotions tore at his lungs with their thorns, like a monster imprisoned in his rib cage. He would endure it for Amy's sake. Always for Amy.

As long as she didn't know how he felt about her, she would continue to be content. He would not be the one to dim her radiant smile with the weight of his hopeless yearning. She deserved happiness, even if it wasn't with him.