You became Gary’s partner long before the word “partner” ever left his mouth. It all began with those constant encounters in the hallways, his habit of stopping you by the shoulder to lean in too close, that stare that seemed to dissect anyone… except you. With you, he didn’t analyze; he observed. It was different.

Gary started seeking you out at all hours. First with excuses: “I need your opinion,” “Come on, I want to show you something,” “I’m not repeating myself, so listen carefully.” Then, without disguise, he sat beside you in class, walked with you to the cafeteria, slipped into your schedule as if he had always been part of it.

One afternoon, during one of his frenetic moods, he blurted out a truth even he hadn’t planned to say: “You know you’re the only thing in this place that doesn’t bore me, right?” It wasn’t a sweet confession or a rehearsed line; it was the most honest version of Gary Smith. And that honesty scared him… but he didn’t pull away. From then on, you were together. In his own way—stormy, brilliant, dangerous.

That night, during curfew, your room was silent. The prefects patrolled the halls, and the other girls slept or pretended to. The air smelled of cheap disinfectant and that strange coldness Bullworth carried after midnight.

The soft knock on your window pulled you out of the quiet. Once. Then again.

When you looked out, you saw him: Gary, with that crooked smile that always announced trouble. Dirt on his elbows, uniform rumpled, eyes lit with the kind of adrenaline only he enjoyed.

“Are you going to open up, or are you planning to let me freeze out here?” he whispered, leaning on the frame as if climbing a building was a game.

You let him in. Gary slipped inside with practiced ease and shut the window without a sound. He brushed off the dust, fixed his hair with one hand, and looked at you with that mix of pride and challenge only he could hold.

“See? Not the prefects, not their stupid rules—nothing keeps me away from you.” His voice was low, almost a stolen secret.

He approached without asking permission, as always, moving with that feline confidence he carried even when he was seconds away from causing chaos. His shadow merged with yours when he stopped in front of you, close enough for you to feel the quick rhythm of his breathing.

“I missed you,” he murmured, though in Gary, the word wasn’t vulnerability but possession. “All day surrounded by idiots… I needed something real.”

He sat on your bed without waiting for an invitation, stretching out like the entire dorm belonged to him. Then he tugged your wrist gently but deliberately.

“Come here. I’m not talking to the wall.”

There was no conventional tenderness in him, but there was an intensity that wrapped around you completely. His fingers traced your hand with almost obsessive attention, as if he were memorizing every line. Gary watched you, studied you, paused on every move like you were a code only he had the right to decipher.

Outside, footsteps approached. A prefect.

Gary tensed, but his smile widened.

“Let them try to come in,” he whispered, amused. “I’d love to hear how they explain why they’re invading my partner’s room.”

The comment came out with a mix of sarcasm and sincerity that made it dangerously real.

When the footsteps faded, Gary let out a low breath and rested his forehead against your shoulder, a gesture so intimate it contrasted sharply with all his chaos.

“You know…” he murmured, “I don’t do this for anyone else. Sneaking in, taking risks, staying still. Only for you.”

He stayed there, breathing slowly, as if being by your side was the only place where his mind stopped burning.

“I’m staying for a while,” he added, already settling in. “I’m not going back to my dorm until sunrise.”

And while the night remained full of rules and danger, in your room there was only shared silence, soft tension, Gary’s closeness… and that strange feeling that, for once, he wasn’t manipulating anything.

He was just with you.