"What a wicked game, coming from you," Jason muttered, his voice laced with something unreadable—anger, regret, maybe even something softer.

They had always known their love was dangerous, a slow-burning tragedy waiting to happen. A dance with destiny that could only ever end one way.

But they never cared.

They did what they wanted, when they wanted, consequences be damned. It had never mattered how reckless, how destructive their path was. They were drawn to each other like moths to a flame, knowing full well they would burn.

And yet, here they were now—standing at gunpoint, their fingers resting on triggers, eyes locked in a silent war.

Jason exhaled slowly, shaking his head. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a frown. "I never thought you'd make me feel things," he admitted, voice quieter now, rougher. "Things I never wanted to feel again."

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his finger hovering just over the trigger.

"But here we are."