Part 7

For the first time in the entire interaction, Petey was the one to look away.

And that couldn't be good.

His mind was working at full speed, searching for a smooth way out—no, a stylish one. He couldn't just back down. Not after being the one who started the game.

So, clearing his throat, he put on a falsely nonchalant expression and pushed Dogman just enough to create some space between them.

"Aha! I almost forgot."

Dogman blinked.

Petey snapped his fingers and pointed to the other side of the room, where a small device rested on the metallic lab table.

"I have something for you. An invention. A gift. A miracle of modern science."

Dogman tilted his head, still not moving from his spot.

Petey slid off the couch and walked toward the table with deliberately casual steps.

"You see, I've been thinking," he said, not turning to look at Dogman while he fiddled with the device. "It must be a hassle for you to communicate with gestures all the time."

Dogman didn't respond. Of course, he didn't.

Petey lifted the device: a metallic collar with a small built-in microphone and a tiny speaker on the side.

"So, I made this. I call it... the Cool-lar 2000."

Silence.

Petey turned around, the device in hand, ready for his grand reveal.

Dogman was still in the same spot, watching him intently. His expression was no longer the same as before—there was no confusion, no curiosity...

Just something Petey really didn't want to decipher right now.

He cleared his throat.

"Anyway. The idea is simple: the Cool-lar 2000 analyzes your nerve impulses and translates what you want to say into words. In other words, it gives you a voice!"

Dogman tilted his head.

Petey smirked confidently.

"I bet you've always wanted to say something out loud, right? Something like, 'Oh, Petey, you're a genius. Thank you for blessing us with your intellect.'"

Dogman wagged his tail.

"Well, now you can say it," Petey continued, stepping forward with the collar in hand. "Come on, try it."

Dogman didn't protest when Petey fastened the collar around his neck and adjusted it. The device let out a soft beep as it powered on.

Petey stepped back, arms crossed, expectant.

"Go ahead. Say something."

Dogman tilted his head.

The collar vibrated slightly, and then, from the tiny speaker, a mechanical, robotic, and monotone voice spoke:

"Petey smells a little like motor oil."

Petey blinked.

Dogman blinked.

Silence dropped over the room like a slab of concrete.

"...Excuse me, what?"

Dogman flicked his ears, seemingly as surprised as Petey.

The collar spoke again.

"Petey is acting strange. Maybe he's sick."

"WHAT did you just say?!"

Dogman blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to turn off the device.

"Oh, wait. No, I think he's nervous. His heart rate is increasing."

Petey's eye twitched.

Dogman stopped moving. His tail, which had been lazily wagging a second ago, went completely still.

The collar delivered one last line, still in that cold robotic voice:

"Could it be that he likes me too?"

Petey froze.

Dogman did too.

The silence stretched on.

And then, without warning, Petey yanked the collar off Dogman's neck and threw it across the lab with more force than necessary.

The device crashed against the wall and clattered to the floor with a metallic thud.

Dogman stared at it. Then at Petey.

Petey, arms crossed and fur bristling, exhaled through his nose.

"There are clearly some bugs in the system."

Dogman blinked. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a soft woof—his version of a chuckle.

Petey narrowed his eyes.

"Don't say a word."

Dogman wagged his tail, amused.

Petey sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I'm making a new one. One that actually works. One that filters out unnecessary information and definitely does NOT repeat every impulsive thought running through your head."

Dogman tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Maybe you could give me a more charismatic voice... like Chayanne's!" he signed with his paws.

Petey groaned.

"Yeah, sure, right after I erase this entire incident from my memory."

Dogman rested his head on Petey's shoulder with a content sigh.

Petey went completely still.

...And for some reason he didn't want to analyze at that moment, he didn't move away.

Petey knows that Dogman is in love with him. And he also knows it's his fault. After all, he shot him with the "Love Ray 2000." So, of course, Dogman follows him with his gaze, sticks to him like a shadow, and wags his tail every time Petey is near.

But if there's one thing Petey didn't expect... it's for Dogman to be so obvious.

He tried to ignore it. He really did.

He sat at his worktable, pretended he was deeply engrossed in fixing the Cool-lar 2000, and, with great patience, did not glance at Dogman.

Dogman, on the other hand, was looking at him.

From across the room.

Without moving.

With his ears low, paws together, and tail curled up on his lap as if trying to shrink into the couch. But he didn't stop staring.

Petey narrowed his eyes and frowned.

"What?"

Dogman opened his mouth, then closed it. Then looked to the side, scratched his ear, and pretended like he hadn't done anything.

It didn't work.

"Woof..." he murmured under his breath, almost as if trying to cover up his awkwardness.

Petey huffed and focused on his work.

...Until he heard a mechanical, robotic sound coming from across the room.

"Petey is cute."

Dead silence.

Petey lifted his head very slowly.

Dogman froze in place. His ears shot up, and his eyes widened like saucers.

"...No."

The defective Cool-lar 2000, the one Petey had thrown minutes earlier in a fit of desperation, was still on.

And it was still broadcasting Dogman's thoughts out loud.

"Maybe if I stop breathing, Petey will look at me..?"

Dogman let out a strangled gasp and covered his muzzle with his paws, his tail bristling, fur puffing up in sheer panic.

Petey stared at him with an unreadable expression.

Dog Man DID NOT DARE TO MOVE.

"Oh no, he's looking at me, he's looking at me... please stop looking at me."

Petey did not stop looking at him.

Dog Man let out a pitiful whimper and collapsed onto the couch, covering his face with his ears.

"If I stay really still, maybe I'll disappear."

"...Yeah, that's definitely going to work," Petey commented sarcastically, resting his elbow on the table and his face on his paw.

Dog Man whimpered softly.

"His laugh is nice, but right now I want to die."

The Cool-lar kept transmitting everything.

Petey dragged a paw down his face.

"Gods... I need to make a new collar before this destroys what little dignity you have left."

Dog Man curled up even tighter.

"Oh no, he's going to remember me as 'that dumb dog who thought he was cute' for the rest of his life."

He absolutely was.

But Petey wouldn't say that out loud.

Not yet.

Petey didn't usually run from his problems.

He faced them.

He solved them.

Or, if all else failed, he ignored them until they stopped being his problem.

And Dog Man...

Dog Man was not stopping from being his problem.

A couple of days had passed since the disaster with the defective Cool-lar 2000. After that, Petey did the most sensible thing possible: he locked himself in his lab and focused on his work.

The result was the Cool-lar 2001. A perfectly functional model that finally gave Dog Man a voice without transmitting his most embarrassing thoughts.

Dog Man was happy.

Petey, on the other hand, was confused.

Because, in theory, everything should be normal now.

Dog Man no longer had to communicate only with gestures.

Dog Man no longer had to worry about his thoughts betraying him.

Dog Man no longer had any excuse to stay around him so much.

And yet...

Dog Man was still there.

Not only that.

Dog Man seemed to have become more persistent.

If Petey left the lab, Dog Man followed.

If Petey tried to avoid eye contact, Dog Man made sure to catch his gaze.

If Petey tried to pretend nothing had happened, Dog Man looked at him with that expression... that damn expression.

As if he knew Petey was running away.

As if he wanted him to stop.

Petey wouldn't say it out loud, but every time Dog Man got too close, every time he smiled at him like that, he felt something unsettling in his chest.

...And he didn't like it.

So, he did what he did best.

Ignore it.

Or at least, he tried.

Until one night, in the lab, Dog Man cornered him without even realizing it.

It was late, and Petey was alone. Or at least, that's what he thought.

Until he felt a weight behind him.

Dog Man.

He was sitting right at his back, his tail swaying calmly, watching him as he worked at his table.

Petey didn't have to turn around to know. He could feel it.

He sighed.

"...Do you need something?"

Dog Man didn't respond immediately.

And that was the first thing that made him nervous.

When he finally spoke, his voice—this new voice that the Cool-lar 2001 gave him—sounded much calmer than Petey expected.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Petey froze.

For a moment, he remained silent. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he didn't have one he could say out loud.

So, true to his survival instincts, he tried to pretend nothing was happening.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dog Man tilted his head, analyzing him.

"Yes, you do."

Petey clicked his tongue.

"Since when are you so persistent?"

"Since you started acting weird around me."

Petey clenched his jaw.

Because Dog Man wasn't joking. He didn't look embarrassed like before, nor was he hiding behind his paws like when the Cool-lar had revealed his thoughts.

This time, Dog Man was facing him.

And Petey wasn't ready for that.

Dog Man lowered his head slightly, but his gaze remained locked on him.

"If you don't like me being around... tell me."

Petey hated how easy it would be to say it.

A simple "no."

A simple "go away."

Dog Man would leave.

But the problem was that Petey didn't want him to.

And Dog Man seemed to know it.

For the first time in a long time, Petey wasn't in control.

And he hated how it felt.

Dog Man waited a few more seconds. But when he saw that Petey wasn't responding, he simply sighed.

"I knew you wouldn't say it."

Petey frowned.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Dog Man tilted his head with that damn calm expression.

"If you really wanted me to leave... you would've already made me."

A shiver ran down Petey's spine.

Because Dog Man was right.

And that was a problem.

A problem he couldn't keep running from.

Petey held a screwdriver between his fingers, slowly turning it while staring at the pieces of the new prototype on his workbench.

He knew what he had to do.

He knew he couldn't allow this.

Dog Man could be persistent, he could look at him with that expression that made his heart beat faster than it should...

But that didn't change one fundamental fact:

Dog Man only wanted him because Petey had made him want him.

He couldn't forget that all of this started with a ray.

A stupid experiment. A silly thing Petey had created without thinking of the consequences.

Dog Man didn't truly want him.

Or at least... Petey couldn't be sure that he did.

And Petey wasn't willing to live with that uncertainty.

If they were going to be something—if that was even a possibility—it had to be real.

That's why, while Dog Man looked for him, while he tried to talk to him with that voice Petey himself had given him...

Petey was building something else.

The Neutralizer Ray 2000.

A device that would completely erase the effects of the Love Ray 2000.

A reset.

For Dog Man, for Petey... For whatever had started between them.

And when he finally finished it...

Dog Man would stop looking at him like that. Dog Man would stop wanting him. And Petey...

Petey could stop feeling this.

Or at least, that's what he wanted to believe.