Gary lay sprawled on the cold, damp earth, the distant rustle of trees and the faint hum of the nearby town the only sounds to fill the oppressive silence. His chest heaved with each shallow breath, the bruises from the fight already starting to turn shades of purple and blue. His body ached from the mess they'd made of each other, a ridiculous, pointless brawl that neither of them could really explain. But then again, who cared about the reason anymore? It was done, and they both looked like hell.

Still, even as the pain lanced through his skull, Gary couldn't ignore the flicker of something else—something darker, more disconcerting—deep within him. He felt like the world was spinning too fast, and his mind couldn't keep up. That familiar, restless feeling was gnawing at him again, the impulse to provoke, to manipulate, to control. But there was something else now—something… strange.

He didn't know what came over him. One moment, it was just him and this idiot—this weak, unpredictable, annoying tool—laying in the dirt, trying to recover from whatever nonsense they'd just gone through. And then, as if the universe had suddenly decided to test him, the words slipped out, unbidden and almost foreign to his own lips:

"I think I might be in love with you."

He winced inwardly. No. That was—he didn't mean it. Or did he? The words hung in the air like a heavy, oppressive fog. His eyes shifted to the side, meeting the other person's gaze, hoping they'd either laugh it off, mock him, or at least do something that gave him an excuse to claim he was joking. But deep down, he already knew what was really happening. He never did anything by accident. Not anymore.

And he hated himself a little more for it.