Green Hill University (Sonadow College AU)

Chapter 12

Shadow

It's 10 p.m. when Shadow finds himself at his apartment door, arms full of groceries, fishing for his keys in his backpack, desperately pleading to Rouge on the phone, "No. Not again. Not after last time."

She had called him up with yet another request to spend his Friday night at some obnoxious club. Balancing his phone in the crook of his shoulder, he eventually found his keys swallowed by a random pocket of his backpack. ...Only to discover that his door was already unlocked. Which could only mean one thing.

And, sure enough, as he stepped inside, there was Rouge, lounging in his favorite armchair, legs crossed just so.

"About time you came home," she commented, nonchalantly examining her nails as she clicked "end" on her call with Shadow.

Shadow let out a haggard breath. "How did you even get in here?"

She smirked, uncurling from her position. "I have my ways. A woman doesn't reveal her secrets."

He frowned. She could at least help me with these groceries.

Which led them here, with Rouge begging him to come to yet another nightclub.

"Oh come ooooonnnn, It's not like it's the same club! The Stardust Speedway is a much more casual—"

"No." He was having none of this tonight. Disregarding Rouge's theatrics, he crossed over into the kitchen and started putting away his groceries. He knew the steps of this conversation; it was a familiar enough occurrence between the two of them.

Rouge, however, didn't continue to push like she had always done.

"Wow, babe, you look terrible," she bluntly exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.

"Thanks," he deadpanned, shoving the milk into its place in the fridge. "Heat up whatever leftovers you want," he called over his shoulder, striding back to the living room. "I'm not cooking for you."

Over the years, Rouge's impromptu visits had become frequent enough that this space was hers too—and much to Shadow's chagrin, she took advantage of it whenever she could. At some point, he had stopped protesting, and her presence in his home became more familiar than he would ever admit aloud.

"Oh honey, I've known you long enough to know that you won't finish whatever you're cooking anyway." She poked at his ribcage. "You're practically wasting away."

Batting Rouge's hand away, he crossed back into the kitchen and threw on an apron, fraying at the hems now with how much he used it. He remembered how wide Maria had smiled when she presented it to him as a birthday present all those years ago—"because I know how much you like cooking, even if you don't want anyone else to."

Rouge kept insisting he replace the "old thing," and surprised him with a new one last Christmas, emblazoned with the words "kiss the cook" across the top and a pair of lips printed suggestively on the chest. Red-faced, he had immediately tossed it in the garbage as Rouge cackled over her wine glass, only pulling it out a day later when the guilt gnawed at him for throwing away a gift someone had given him—even a gift as ridiculous as that. Now it sat shoved in the very back of his closet. Shadow would die before he let that thing see the light of day again.

"I eat enough. Not everyone can be blessed with dimensions as generous as yours," he flatly stated, beginning to clean and chop some vegetables for a quick stir-fry, already doubling the ingredients out of habit. They both knew he would despite his complaining.

"I'm just deciding to take that as a compliment. Your impeccably dry wit never ceases to perplex and amaze, darling." She hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs slightly as she leaned into the overhead cabinets. "Anyway, after dinner, you're coming out with me. No questions asked. I'm literally the only thing that gets you out of the house these days. What kind of friend would I be if I just let you rot in here?"

He sighed as he stirred the sizzling ingredients in the pan. "No, Rouge, I have too much to do, and anyway—"

Rouge smirked as she cut him off. "Oh, I know what it is! You're afraid we'll run into your little blue boyfriend again."

Shadow whipped around, brandishing his spatula as he scowled. "Don't you dare assume I would ever willingly associate with that careless, airheaded, idiotic—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rouge said, blinking as she held her hands up in defense. "I know your temper is almost as short as you are, babe, but that really set you off."

Shadow frowned as he turned back to his stir-fry, quietly ashamed at losing his composure so quickly.

Rouge eyed him for a moment as the silence hung between them, seeing right through him as always. "But it's not just him, is it?" Her eyes flicked from the stir-fry to his tired form. "Alright, wanna tell me what's really going on?"

Silence. The click of the stovetop being turned off.

Rouge's gaze went back to her nails again, casually examining the hot pink polish on each one. "You know me, Shadow. I won't leave until I find out." She smiled playfully, leaning that much closer to her sulking friend. "I have my ways of finding out secrets, Shadow. Don't make me use them on you."

Rouge paused there for a few moments, waited.

"Is it Maria?" she asked, quietly, knowingly. Her voice loses its sharp, sarcastic edges, tone softening into something more delicate, more serious.

Shadow is silent as he divides their meal onto two plates, his grip on the spatula tightening ever so slightly. And that in itself gives Rouge the answer she needs. She let out a breath.

"Love, I know she means a lot to you, but you can't build your life around a promise that—"

"Too late." Shadow's words are dry when he speaks up again, jaw setting with a sort of somber determination. "I already have." He sat the dishes in the sink with a thud and immediately began cleaning—an excuse to do something with his hands, to avoid looking Rouge in the eye.

Rouge frowned slightly from her place on the counter, concern drawing her brows together. Maria was one of, if not the closest thing to Shadow's heart—had been since day one—and Rouge will never forget the way Shadow broke down in her arms when the kid was diagnosed. The words terminal and life-threatening were repeated by countless doctors in the days after.

Rouge watched his profile, his eyes resolutely staying fixed on the grime stuck to a pan. "I just don't want you to blame yourself if something happens."

Shadow let a bark of mirthless laughter escape him. "The something already happened—is happening. I'm going to stop it. I can't just stand back and watch her di—" Soap suds ran over his knuckles as his fist tightened around the sponge in his hand, a physical manifestation of the tension in his voice.

Rouge waits again as his grip slowly releases, sponge falling back into the sink as he gives up. He sounds small when he finds his voice again, eyes still down.

"Rouge, if I can't save her, then what's the point?"

Every word stops short on Rouge's tongue in the silence that follows. What could she say? What platitude could she spit out that he hasn't heard already?

Rouge is a good liar. She's spun a web of tales good enough to fool anyone she meets. But Shadow knows her—can see through her almost as well as she can him—and she knows there's no lie pretty enough for him to buy right now. So, she folds her hands in her lap and chooses to be honest for maybe the third time in her entire life.

"That...I don't have a clear answer for."

Shadow breathes out another dry chuckle, short and hollow. "The infamous Rouge doesn't have a quip at the ready. That's a first."

Rouge takes a turn, bouncing off his sarcasm in order to steer the conversation away from sick children and weighty, desperate vows. Shadow had had enough. "I don't think you could appreciate my sparkling wit right now anyhow."

She slid from her countertop perch, stretching out her wings as she grabbed the forgotten plates of stir-fry and stepped towards her sullen friend. "Now, come on, we're gonna eat this lovely dinner and watch some trash TV and you are going to let yourself unclench for a few hours. "

If Rouge saw his shoulders sag with relief, she didn't comment on it as he followed her to the living room couch.