Part 10

The blue glow of the Neutralizer Ray 2000 lit up the room for an instant before fading away. Petey lowered the weapon slowly, his breathing ragged. He had done it. He had finally done it. He had finally made the decision, he had finally acted. But as the light dissipated, something inside him felt an emptiness he hadn't expected.

Dogman blinked, his face showing not the slightest hint of surprise. There were no screams, no drastic changes in his behavior. He didn't stumble, he didn't show any signs of confusion. He simply stood there, looking at him with the same expression as always—so calm, so... constant. Petey felt a chill run down his spine, as if time had stopped moving, as if the entire world had decided to pause at that precise moment.

—Well? —Dogman asked, with that ever-present smile on his face, that naive and simple smile, as if everything was fine.

Petey felt frustration crash over him like an unstoppable wave. His breathing quickened, and he couldn't help but shout, though he wasn't even sure why. Anger and fear consumed him.

—It can't be! —he exclaimed, his voice breaking with disbelief—. It worked, it had to have worked!

Dogman tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful but calm, without a hint of confusion.

—What if it didn't? —he said, as if making a simple suggestion.

Petey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He couldn't understand it. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. The ray... it had been designed to neutralize any alteration in emotional chemistry, to make Dogman stop feeling what had been caused by the experiment. It wasn't supposed to be possible. Dogman wasn't supposed to be... he wasn't supposed to still be looking at him that way.

—How do you feel? —Petey asked, his voice lower than he intended, the fear seeping into his words despite himself.

Dogman remained silent for a moment, as if truly considering the question, weighing every word. Then, he smiled. A soft smile, but with something deeper shining in his eyes. Something Petey wasn't ready to see.

—The same as before —he finally answered, without hesitation, as if nothing about him had changed.

Petey swallowed hard. The pressure in his chest grew.

—That's not possible... —he murmured, almost to himself—. The ray was designed to neutralize any alteration in emotional chemistry. It should have... —He cut himself off, unable to continue his reasoning. The words got stuck in his throat, useless.

Dogman watched him patiently, unhurriedly. His gaze was warm, but it also carried an understanding that Petey didn't want to admit.

—Maybe it was never the ray —Dogman said gently—. Maybe it was me all along.

The silence that fell between them was heavy. It was as if all the air in the room had stopped moving. Petey stood frozen, processing those words that kept echoing in his head. Maybe... maybe there was more than just the ray? Maybe there was something he didn't understand, something he had been avoiding all this time.

Petey took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, but his hands trembled slightly. And then, with a voice so quiet he barely heard it himself, almost as if he feared the answer, he asked:

—So... are you still in love with me?

Dogman let out a short, soft laugh, something nervous but also resigned. It was a laugh Petey didn't fully understand, but it gave him a strange feeling in his chest. That laugh made him think that maybe there was something more, that Dogman wasn't as sure as he seemed, but that even so... he still felt something.

—The worst part... is that I think I am —he admitted, with a sincerity that made Petey falter—. And if I weren't... I think I'd fall in love with you all over again today.

Those words were a direct hit to Petey's heart. The ray hadn't changed anything. Dogman hadn't forgotten him, hadn't stopped feeling what he felt. And the worst part was that, for some reason, Petey knew that if the ray had worked, he wouldn't have felt as relieved as he thought. On the contrary, he would have felt a loss, an emptiness inside him, as if he had destroyed something he never really wanted to destroy.

The laboratory was engulfed in heavy silence, as if the air itself had stopped moving. Petey still held the ray in his hand, but his fingers trembled slightly. He looked at the weapon, as if considering using it again was an option, but something inside him told him it wasn't. Something told him it no longer made sense.

His breaths were quick, and though he tried to hide it, his mind was in chaos. He had been completely certain that the ray would work, that somehow it would fix everything wrong in his relationship with Dogman. Certain that, by doing so, things would be easier. But there he was, standing right in front of him, with the same expression he always had, with those eyes full of warmth and determination. Telling him that the worst part was that he was still in love with him... and that if he weren't, he would fall in love with him all over again from that very moment.

Petey felt something twist inside him, like a knot forming in his stomach, a burning sensation in his throat. He didn't want to hear those words. He didn't want Dogman looking at him like that, as if everything was simple, as if everything was so natural. He didn't want to deal with what he was feeling.

So he did what he did best in moments of uncertainty.

He stepped back.

He set the ray down on the table with more force than necessary and crossed his arms, forcing himself to smile with the same arrogance as always, even though inside, everything felt like it was falling apart. That smile was just a mask, a barrier against what he truly felt.

—Well? —he said, feigning indifference—. What am I supposed to do with this?

Dogman tilted his head, as if he didn't quite understand the question.

—With what?

—With... this. With you. With this ridiculous situation! —Petey exhaled in frustration, running a hand over his face—. I just shot you with a ray that was supposed to neutralize any artificial feelings, and here you are, telling me you're still in love with me!

Dogman shrugged, as relaxed as ever.

—I can't help it.

—Well, you should! —Petey threw up his arms, exasperated, his voice breaking with frustration—. You should just leave, forget about this, and move on with your life!

Dogman looked at him calmly, his eyes steady on him, with that inexplicable patience that always drove Petey crazy, but at the same time, somehow... soothed him.

—I'm not going anywhere.

Four words. Just four words. Four words that, at another time, Petey would have ignored or brushed off as just another one of Dogman's stubborn remarks. But in that moment, those four words touched something much deeper. Something Petey didn't want to face, something that overwhelmed him from the inside out. Something that reminded him too much of everything he had felt when he was younger. The feeling of abandonment, the certainty that he had been left behind by someone important, by someone who would never come back. That wound, the one he had tried to keep buried for so long, suddenly cracked open in his chest.

I'm not going anywhere.

Those words echoed in his mind, filling the space between them. Petey didn't know if it was because of Dogman's closeness, his persistence, or what those words truly meant to him, but at that moment, he felt something inside him break. The air caught in his throat, and for a second, he thought he couldn't breathe. Without realizing it, something had unraveled, and Petey wasn't sure what to do with it all.

Petey didn't even notice that he had lowered his gaze until Dogman took a step toward him, approaching cautiously.

—Petey? —he asked, his voice filled with soft concern.

Petey bit his lip and muttered under his breath, as if merely saying the words would make him feel too exposed.

—Don't say it.

Dogman blinked, confused by Petey's evasion.

—Say what?

Petey lifted his head, locking eyes with Dogman. But he couldn't stop something fierce and protective from flashing in his gaze, something that didn't match the sarcastic and distant person he always showed to the world. Something much deeper.

—Don't tell me you're not leaving.

Dogman furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly, trying to understand what was going on in Petey's mind, as if he still didn't fully grasp what was behind his words.

—But I won't.

Petey scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh that held no real humor, just the sound of someone who had tried to stay in control for far too long.

—You don't know that.

—I do —Dogman said, with such absolute certainty that it made Petey want to run.

Petey's smile faded, and his eyes filled with a sorrow he wasn't ready to face. He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as if that could shield him from everything he was feeling. It was a reflection of his discomfort, a useless attempt to keep his distance. But the tension remained, thick in the air between them.

—You say that now —he whispered, never breaking eye contact with Dog Man, his tone barely audible.

Dog Man didn't move, but his gaze remained fixed on him. Slowly, he stepped a little closer, carefully, as if trying not to startle him, not to invade the space that Petey seemed so determined to protect.

—I mean it.

Those words made him feel vulnerable. A shiver ran down his spine, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Dog Man wasn't supposed to be there, looking at him like that, with that sincere expression, so confident and unwavering. Petey had been waiting for this moment, believing that, in the end, everything would be easier once the ray had done its job, once emotions had been "neutralized." But no. Dog Man was still there, unchanged, with the same smile, the same feelings, and he couldn't stop looking at him as if everything Petey had done before had been for nothing.

He wasn't leaving. And that was more terrifying than Petey was willing to admit.

—You know what, Dog Man? —he said, forcing a sarcastic smile, even though the burning sensation in his chest was almost unbearable—. Do whatever you want. Stay if you like. It's not my problem.

Dog Man didn't respond right away. Instead, he watched him in silence, with that unshakable calm that unsettled Petey more and more. As if he could see through the facade Petey had so carefully built.

Finally, Dog Man smiled.

—Alright.

That simple, straightforward response made Petey's heart race. Something inside him cracked. He didn't understand why, but that single word, that quiet acceptance, made him feel as if he were losing something precious. Something he still didn't fully understand.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension that Petey tried to ignore but was as present as the air around him. His heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained unreadable, impassive. Only a slight tension in his jaw betrayed the storm of thoughts raging inside him.

Dog Man, on the other hand, stayed still, watching him, as if he had learned not to rush, to wait. As if he knew that any wrong move could make Petey retreat even further. But Petey didn't want to retreat. He didn't want to, yet he couldn't admit it either. And then, that same feeling of abandonment, the one he had felt so many times before, crept back in.

He remembered his father. His deep voice and false promise, the one he had told him when he was just a kitten, before leaving without explanation. He remembered how his father used to ruffle his fur affectionately, telling him he would always be there, that he would never leave him alone. Petey had believed those words with all his heart, the way only a child could. But one day, he simply left. And never came back.

And now, Dog Man was here, telling him the same thing. But Petey didn't know if he could trust those words. His heart screamed at him to protect himself, not to fall for the same lie again.

Petey stood up abruptly, the movement so sudden that the air around him seemed to thicken, becoming stifling. He walked toward his worktable, searching for something to distract himself, anything to keep his eyes from meeting Dog Man's.

—Don't say things you can't keep —he said, trying to sound indifferent, but there was a slight tremor in his voice that he couldn't quite hide.

Dog Man didn't answer right away. He remained there, watching him, as if waiting for Petey to say something else. Then, in a quiet but resolute voice, he said:

—But I can keep it.

Petey clenched his teeth, feeling the knot in his stomach grow tighter. He spun around abruptly to face him, his glare sharp as a blade.

—You don't get it, do you? —he snapped, his voice trembling with anger, but also with a vulnerability he couldn't hide—. Everyone says the same thing. Everyone promises they'll be there, that they won't leave, that they'll always be by your side... until one day, they're not. Until you realize you were never as important as you thought.

Dog Man blinked, but his expression didn't change. He didn't look away from Petey, as if every word he spoke carried a different weight, a deeper meaning.

—I'm not "everyone" —he said, his voice firm but gentle.

Petey let out a bitter, almost powerless laugh.

—That's what everyone says too.

Dog Man didn't say anything else. Instead, he slowly stood up and took a few steps toward him, approaching with a calmness that unsettled him. He didn't do it to corner him, not to make him feel like he had no escape. He simply got close enough for Petey to know that he was there—that he didn't have to be alone, even if he wanted to convince himself otherwise.

—I'm not going anywhere —he repeated, and this time, he said it with such softness that it disarmed him even more.

Petey felt a lump in his throat. His breathing became irregular, unsteady, as if he were about to explode, as if his own thoughts were suffocating him. But his paws wouldn't move. He was trapped, and he knew it. Something inside him was breaking, like a dam about to give way. Everything he had bottled up, everything he had tried to avoid, was beginning to seep through.

—And if you do? —he asked, almost without realizing it. The words left his mouth without thought, a hollow whisper, filled with fear.

Dog Man looked at him steadily, with that unwavering certainty that seemed capable of withstanding any storm.

—I won't —he insisted, and his voice was so sure, so full of truth, that Petey almost believed him.

Petey narrowed his eyes, searching for a trace of doubt, a lie. But he found nothing. There wasn't even a hint of hesitation in his gaze.

—Why? —he asked, his voice trembling, but carrying the anger he didn't want to let go—. Why are you still here, even after everything?

Dog Man took another step closer, and in an almost instinctive movement, he lifted a paw and placed it on Petey's arm. Not to restrain him, not to hold him back—just to let him know that he was there. To prove that he truly meant what he said.

—Because I want to be here —he said, with absolute sincerity—. With you.

Petey felt something in his chest sink, as if his breath had stopped for a second. He didn't know if he wanted to believe him or if he was afraid to. He was rigid, as if ready to fight, but nothing happened. Dog Man didn't move, didn't do anything to force him to react. He just looked at him, waiting, unhurried.

And that was when Petey hated himself.

He hated himself because, for the first time in a long time, he wanted to believe in someone. And that terrified him more than anything else.

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Hello! I hope you all liked this chapter. Honestly, thank you so much to everyone who made it this far! It makes me really happy that you're enjoying the story!