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I have never seen your eyes shine.
Not with joy, not even with malice. Are you enjoying anything you’re doing?
The way you move I noticed right away. Your arms wave about with grand gestures, yet your feet simply shuffle by. As time passes and you don’t improve your movements, I’ve finally determined the best way to describe you. You’re like a puppet on strings. You don’t move your body like it's yours; you move it from an outside perspective.
When I meet eyes with you, all I can see is exhaustion. Your eyes are sunken in, and those dark bags underlining them completely ruin any sense of coolness you try to maintain. You don’t sleep, do you? I guess you’re too busy being mad.
Sometimes I’ll see a flicker of rage light up your eyes. You don’t emote much, so it stands out whenever some form of expression crosses your face. And it’s just anger. Resentment. And something else…
Pain. I’d know better than anyone what a pained expression is. That deep sorrow, I can see it. I happened to pass by a window once, a while ago. When I was still on a vengeance-filled rampage of my own. I saw my reflection. So much pain and anger filled the glass.
You’re seething on the inside. You try not to let it show, but it slips out in short bursts. I’ve heard you muttering curses to yourself before you notice I’m there. In the middle of battle, you once screamed while throwing your attacks at me. I think you were just using the moment as an excuse to let a tiny ounce of your rage go. Because right after, your face went blank once again. At the time I thought you were just trying your hardest, but no.
I know how it feels. Somebody hurt you, and in your twisted mind, hurting everyone else in turn is the only way to feel better.
God, you’re tired. Those nonexistent feet aren’t helping. You can barely stand up. You’re a mess. Sometimes you try to fix up your quills but then give up because there are just too many knots to deal with. And you don’t have the time for that.
You’re in a rush.
You try to play the game carefully, taking your time. But then a slip-up occurs, and suddenly, you’re scrambling to get the pieces back into place. One wrong move and all of your efforts will be undone.
That’s why I kept it simple. All I had to do was avoid everyone that wasn’t the Doctor and Rouge. And then I just sweet-talked them into doing my bidding.
You’ve got that silver hedgehog in the palm of your hand. His friend is skeptical of you and keeps asking questions, so you have to satisfy her. There’s time travel. So much time travel. You’re avoiding Sonic at all costs because you know he’d knock you out in a blip if he figured out what you are. The Doctor wants your energy. GUN is after you, as am I and my team. You are truly facing the whole world on your own.
Maybe that’s why you haven’t slept at all. Do you even know what sleep is? The consideration of it probably hasn’t crossed your mind. Too many other thoughts in the way.
You’re falling apart. You’re right here, at the end of your grand scheme, and you’re scraping by the finish line.
The finish line is here for me, too. My life is almost over. Is that why I’m rethinking everything now? In some desperate attempt to postpone my own demise?
I’ve been silent for too long. You’re waiting for me to say my final words.
I look up from the blood pooling below me and gaze at my friends. Rouge is covered in the scrapes from your clones, still bleeding even after you’ve recalled them all. There is no need to waste your energy on keeping them, after all. Even Omega is offline.
Not dead yet. But they will be soon. I will. Everyone on this planet will.
“You’re testing my patience, Shadow.” Your voice pierces my own heavy panting.
I stare at you, hovering above the ground at a safe distance. You still think I might have some strength left to attack. I do.
I could fling one more chaos spear into your chest, stun you for a few seconds… And that’s it. The best I could do is make your victory just a tiny bit less sweet.
I peer closer at you, trying to focus my vision. I look into your eyes once again, and I am met with solemnity. As the two chaos emeralds swirl above your head, you know you are victorious. But I still see that boiling, seething hatred underneath it all. And exhaustion, of course. Our battle mere minutes ago has not helped you.
The end is coming. I’ve seen it coming before, but the soft voice of an angel helped me prevent it. If only Amy Rose were here to work her magic again and change your mind as she did mine.
It seems that I have to do something. Maybe I can connect with you, in some way. If I fail, we’ll all die, but we’d die if I didn’t try anyway.
I push myself to my feet and slowly make my way toward you. My head is heavy.
You ready your claws.
The corners of my vision darken, but I never lose sight of your face. Of those drained, unshining eyes.
I push myself forward and raise my hands. You want to attack, but my movements don’t make sense to you. You hesitate. In that moment, I yank you out of the air and down to my level. I close my eyes and lean into you. My hand rests limply on your back, in the crevice between your spikes.
You are so cold. I almost shiver.
I hear a tiny gasp slip from you. You raise your hands, preparing to strike at me while I’m slumped against you in this sloppy attempt at a hug. Yet I am never greeted with the feeling of you ripping into me. You keep your hands frozen in midair.
Your strings have stopped working. You don’t know what to do.
You take a step back, but I cling to you. My blood oozes onto us both. It’s probably the warmest thing you’ve ever felt. I see it trickling down your stomach and grimace. Sorry. My intent wasn’t to gross you out.
I lick my chapped lips and force out the words, “I’m sorry. It took me too long to recognize your pain… I can…” My head is light. “...I can help… Let’s wait… just a little longer…”
That’s all I can muster the strength to say.
No.
There was so much more on my mind I could’ve said. That was pathetic. What kind of fool would be convinced by that?
I’m too weak to speak or open my eyes. But I’m still, unfortunately, conscious. I will feel everything when you finish me off.
Instead, I feel only your hands catching me before I fall. You… pull me in closer. Your claws do sink into my skin, but it doesn’t feel intentional. It’s more like you’re just squeezing me. Is it my fading warmth that you want? You’d better savor it. I’m growing cold.
“Shadow,” you say. Your voice is a whisper yet makes me jump. “I am tired of everything.”
I need to speak. The Ultimate Lifeform can surely utter a few more words. “Then… sleep.”
You fall silent for a moment.
I’m about to pass out.
But it is not me who collapses first. Your weight comes crashing down against me, and we both fall to the floor in a puddle of my blood. Your body lands on mine, hands still wrapped around my back. To my surprise, you barely weigh a thing.
I force open an eye and see your head against my chest. Your eyes are shut. For the first time, the wrinkles on your face soften. Are you finally at peace, sleeping silently against the bloody chest of the first person to ever try to help you?
I lazily toss a hand onto your back. And then I fall into a deep sleep myself.
Hopefully, I’ll wake up and you’ll still be there.
Hopefully, I’ll wake up.