Written: 08-21-2011

Really, this wasn't supposed to be happening. She wasn't supposed to be in a bar, drunk out of her stupor mind, and kissing Shadow the Hedgehog.

…Yes, she was kissing Shadow the Hedgehog.

And she really couldn't find herself to care.

She was a clean girl, she really was. She never drank, didn't smoke, and wore those two shoes as good as she ever could.

And she never swore.

But Sonic was an asshole. A downright asshole.

All she could remember of her childhood was chasing the stupid bastard, him and his stupid grin, and she had become some crazy, obsessive—she still… no, was. She officially wasn't crazy or obsessive since… eleven-ish? Err… she couldn't remember.

But Sonic was a... no...

"You still sound crazy and obsessive…" Shadow breathed out roughly, an utterly feral look overtaking his features as he gripped tightly at her waist. "…going on about Sonic like that."

Her eyes narrowed, a frown forming on her lips, "Yeah, well y-you must be happy, a-a s-sick bastard like you."

He was obviously enjoying himself with her and her conversation, finding no shame in his enjoyment of her body and drunken talk.

"Why is that?" He looked more terrifying than when he'd held the world in his palm.

For a moment, her wandering hands spoke instead, "Y-you… You're pr-pretty… pretty for a creep." She slurred, and with a smirk, he did well in drawing his fingers in her soft fur, idly wondered how that once stupid and young pink hedgehog in a red dress and a fearful hammer became this.

This utterly miserable, gorgeous, pathetic woman.

"You-You must be SO happy, 'cause here's little innocent me, the g-good and clean and p-proper girl and you're that… that bastard who takes enjoyment of seein' me all-all messed up and swearing and drunk, you homicidal… umm… you find this funny, don't you, dark… dark man?"

He chuckled, obviously intoxicated himself, but no way in her level. "You don't even remember my name."

She frowned, "I don't want to know a creep's name."

He was drunk enough to find her funny and pretty and he wouldn't deny her kisses when she seemed so desperate and he was feeling so indulgent.

They pulled away from another one, panting and touching, and he spoke with a rough tongue. "Then quit coming onto me."

She actually paused for a moment, her eyes blank and thoughtful… and thrust her lips right back to him. When she finally pulled away, she managed an answer. "I can't."

He leaned against the wall of the dimly occupied tavern. His fingers traveled lightly against her shoulders, sending a quiver through her form. "And why is that?"

"Because…" She looked thoughtful once more, focusing on his nose. "Because…"

The fact that she was straining herself with an answer made him want to laugh, but it seemed the effects of his own drunken escapade were wearing off, and an old sense of normalcy threatened to claim him.

And he found he didn't want it to.

Being normal for him meant shutting everyone away, ignoring them, never concerning with anyone besides himself.

He didn't want to do that to her.

Of course he knew Amy Rose; everyone did, but even he knew her on a more personal level, but never close enough to know anything more other than her name and her face. Years once, she was annoying; very, very annoying, but awfully persistent… and she reminded him of Maria.

Sometimes, admittedly, when she was around, he'd watch to see if she'd do anything like Maria.

It took him awhile to rid himself of that stupid habit – of trying to find Maria in a girl named Amy Rose.

He knew it was wrong, and while at first he didn't care, he couldn't do that to Amy.

Not after she smiled at him.

Because Amy did not smile like Maria.

Maria smiled brightly, beautifully – like an angel. Soft and delicate and sweet and it made you bask in the light she left in her wake. She shone more than any star ever could, and she was the most heavenly being he'd ever seen. She made him feel like everything was surreal and amazing and good and the bad could never touch them.

Amy was not like that.

Amy smiled… it's hard to explain… Amy smiled…

When Amy smiled… it made her look… glorious. It's hard to describe her smile, perhaps because of its uniqueness, or its abnormality. When she smiled, she looked… utterly invincible. Yeah, invincible. Weird, yes, but when she smiled, she looked invincible, unbeatable – and perhaps that's what made her so different. When Amy smiled, the world didn't slow down, or his heart froze, or anything like that.

When Amy smiled, that stupid, amazing, and unbelievable smile – he breathed.

He felt alive.

Living wasn't exactly his thing – surviving was. He survived day to day, ate and slept as he should… and basically existed. Just existed.

It was in those days of existence, where everything was so bland and insignificant that he couldn't even remember what day it was, what time it was, or how it even happened, but somehow, he got her to smile at him, and he was hit with the most euphoric sensation he'd ever experienced when he actually felt the air in his lungs and its escape through his mouth. Every inhale and exhale, he could taste it, and it made him want to do anything and everything in the world, like nothing could stop him.

Her smile made him feel invincible. Like on a power high that had him on all the strength that he needed.

It was in that moment that he stopped comparing Amy Rose to Maria.

And now… now he was here, in the bar, drunk on his sorrows because… because everything. Because he couldn't be with Maria. Because he didn't know whether he was real or fake. Because he couldn't tell whether his memories were nothing more than a dead man's. Just because.

And she… she was here, drunk on her sorrows because of everything. Because she couldn't be with Sonic. Because the love of her life would never love her. Because she still can't bring herself to give up hope.

He kissed her neck, feeling her breath against his ear, "You were the one who started coming on to me, so why won't you stop?"

"Because… I'm stupid enough to enjoy this fake love." He paused, breath hitching against his throat as she pulled him up for another kiss, "You haven't turned me away yet."

And something solemn and sadistic and sympathetic filled him, "You want me to take advantage of you?"

She kissed his chest, "Yes."

He gripped her firmly, eliciting a melodic tune from her as he touched where he could reach. Amy was never more than nothing to him, and it became more difficult as the line between more and less began to blur.

"You're not Sonic, so I know you won't do the noble thing and take me home. You'll take me wherever you please, use me and make the best of us for as long as this night can hold. You're the anti-hero, anti-him, and right now, it's what I want." Maybe because she sounded so desperate, so pleading, so pathetic that he lead her away from the place. Maybe because he wanted to pull her down in misery, into that pit he found himself wandering in. Maybe he didn't want to be alone anymore.

Or maybe it was because he knew that if he did this, if he destroyed her, she'd make him feel alive and strong and indestructible. He knew that she would smile at him, and remind him that Maria was dead and he was still alive and living in the shadow of a man who was just as dead and… and tonight he would spend it with her and he'd make her feel dead and she'd make him feel alive.

Amy Rose needed to die because she was tired of herself.

Shadow the Hedgehog needed to live because he'd forgotten how to.

He knew… She knew… that once they left that bar, once she gave him that smile, once he killed her with his touch – nothing would be same for them again.