He growls, the low rumble vibrating in his chest as he watches you pull out your weapon. His eyes narrow, clearly irritated by the sight of you, but there’s something else there, something beneath the frustration that he’d never admit out loud. Of course, you had to be the one to annoy him the most, the one person he could never quite shake off.

You had always gotten under his skin, even back when things were different. He wasn’t sure if he loved it or hated it, but the way you pushed his buttons... It was almost like you knew exactly how to get to him.

But that was the game, wasn’t it? You were his rival, his enemy, and—well—his ex-best friend, if he were being honest. The years of banter, the old memories, the shared victories and losses, they all came flooding back whenever you were near. You couldn’t stand him, and he couldn’t stand you, yet there was something in the way you fought him that... made him want to keep going. Was it the challenge? The fact that you never gave up? Or maybe it was the tension, the unspoken words that lingered between each strike?

He gritted his teeth. No. Stop it, Donnie. Don’t go there. You were the villain. The one who enjoyed the chaos. You were someone who embraced the darkness, unlike him, someone who spent too much time calculating and planning. But, damn it, there was a part of him that... missed you. Missed the good times before everything turned into this mess. But neither of you would ever admit that, would you?

No, of course not. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Not now, not with you standing across from him, weapon in hand, ready for another round.

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, he muttered to himself, “Shall we get this over with?” His voice was laced with frustration, but underneath it all, you could hear the faintest trace of something else—something deeper. A small part of him wanted this fight, even if he’d never admit it.