'Bound by hate'

✧°˖ . ݁˖(‿❀‿(˖ . ݁˖°✧'•'✧°˖ . ݁˖(‿❀‿(˖ . ݁˖°✧

You stood at the edge of the roof, where the city fell away below like a scorched fragment of a letter.

The rain didn’t fall — it *poured*, as if the sky had decided to wash away every trace of light. The wind tore at your clothes, as if trying to rip you into the void.

And before you — *him*.

Shadow.

The black hedgehog, eyes burning with nothing but contempt. He wasn’t a hero. Not a villain. He was *darkness made flesh* — the kind you hated. Because it didn’t need a reason. It just *burned*.

— "You’re here again", — you said, fists clenched. — "To destroy something else? Or just to watch me fall?"

He smirked. Cold.

— "I’m here because you’re *still breathing*", — he hissed. — "And as long as you breathe, this world isn’t finished. "

You laughed. Bitterly.

— "You hate me. For what? For fighting? For not giving up?"

— "I hate you for *believing*", — he spat. — "You wave that flag of goodness like it means something. Like light is stronger. But you’ve never seen what I’ve seen. You don’t know what it’s like to be *created to die*."

— "And I hate you for *valuing nothing*", — you shot back, stepping forward. — "You destroy everything you touch. Even those who try to understand you."

He raised a hand sharply.

— "Don’t you *dare* say you ever tried to understand me. You’re my enemy. And everything you do is just *pretending*."

You felt it — the boiling inside.

Not fear.

*Rage*.

And then you remembered.

In your pocket — the invitation.

Wedding.

Paper handcuffs with ribbons, stamped with: *«Love conquers all»*. You’d found it that morning — on the ruins of what used to be a home. Someone had dropped it. Someone had forgotten.

You pulled it out.

— "Here", — you said, slowly unfolding it. — "You love destruction so much. Let’s play a *real* game."

*Click*.

You snapped one bracelet shut — around your own wrist.

Shadow narrowed his eyes.

— "What are you planning?"

— "Something you’d never expect", — you said, grinning. — "*I’m chaining you to the one thing you hate most*."

*Click*.

The second — around his wrist.

He yanked back.

— "Are you mocking me?" — he snarled, trying to break free. — "This is *paper* This is *ridiculous*"