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Looking back, it was hard to pinpoint exactly when Tony had started to care about Gregory. Upon introducing himself out of kindness, the brown-eyed boy just became a part of his life. Somewhere along the lines, his every expression had been burned into Tony's memory.
He didn't do big smiles too often. Despite going along with Ellis's unseriousness, Tony got the impression that his heart wasn't wholly in it. When he did grin like that, it felt like a shallow attempt at matching the energy. And his regular laugh, for some reason, was always relatively quiet and never prolonged. Ellis didn't really notice. Tony didn't bother ever talking about it with him, either; he wasn't the type to read into people's behavior the way Tony did.
But sometimes, when they coined inside jokes for the first time, Greg would laugh and it would be normal. A full laugh, the way that Ellis, other kids and Tony himself usually did. And the expression that lingered was a small but genuine smile, with lit-up eyes that Tony found uncommon in his friend.
He was generally easy to irritate (Tony had discovered quite a few pet peeves of his), but Tony couldn't think of an instance where he had fully lost his temper, and he forgave and forgot within moments. He was the type to let others guide the mood, and participate in whatever way he was needed. There was an unwritten list of things that Tony thought was off about him, and this was one of the things on it; upon scrutiny, he found that the group actually did tend to follow his lead. Gregory was the one that wanted to go to the Pizzaplex in the first place, suggesting attractions in a subtle way that somehow always led to himself and Ellis agreeing. He dodged certain questions and circumstances in a way that even someone as observant as Tony never realized until after the fact. But, in the end, even if it's the very end, Tony finally realized.
Tony always felt like his friend had more depth than he ever revealed. A whole personality that he hardly ever got to see—at some point, though Tony wasn't sure when, he had started subconsciously seeking out scraps of that "real" Gregory. The boy was an enigma, a mystery, exactly what Tony dealt in. Though he never even realized it, he'd been investigating GGY for a much longer time than he thought he had.
Bitterly (it was a strange emotion, rather unfamiliar but unmistakable. He hadn't ever really let himself feel this way, not even about his father), he felt a smile stretch across his face. At least he technically had succeeded in some ways; not only did he find out GGY's identity and the extent of his crimes, he found out a bit more about who Gregory truly was. His regret here was not being able to find his true motive; so he was a mysterious, murderous hacker, but why?
The question didn't eat at Tony like he thought it would. He supposed when you're on the cusp of death, a lot of things start to feel small. His mind wandered elsewhere.
Once, out of nowhere, Greg had said that the Pizzaplex's dark blue ceilings in a lot of the rooms were the same color as Tony's eyes. The latter wasn't sure how to respond, and tried to hide the redness in his face at the thought that Gregory paid that much attention to his features. Staring up at the same ceiling, he imagined how he looked right now. His tears had stopped a while ago (a few minutes, hours, he wasn't sure)—he felt like he'd run out of the energy to produce them.
That same day that Gregory commented on his eyes, the pair had also gone into some play tunnels (Ellis had gotten separated, and they were trying to find him) and while in a particularly small red tube, they were so close together that there wouldn't have been any space left between their faces had Tony moved half an inch forward. He wondered if this would've gone any different if Tony had just kissed him in that moment.
Something told him he would've been in his current situation earlier if it had gone like that. But maybe that would be worth it. A few weeks of life more or less, what's the point? He regretted ignoring and hiding his feelings. Being queer in this modern day and age wasn't really his fear, it was more about how little he felt like he knew Greg. There was some kind of glass wall between him and everyone else. Maybe kissing him would have shattered it. And Tony wouldn't have survived to see him without the wall for too long, but he would rather have that than this.
Gregory had been crying, sobbing as he stabbed Tony. It was a clean, deep wound; he looked like he was fighting himself for control. He hadn't exactly won. After he pulled the knife out, there was a scary moment where Tony thought he'd do it over and over. Apparently, so did Gregory. His eyes twitched and glowed purple, and he screamed as if he was the one being killed right then. He threw the knife to some corner of the room with what looked like immense effort, and then passed out a few feet beside Tony.
It was funny, Gregory had just left him to bleed out from a wound that he'd inflicted and all Tony can think about is how much he wishes he had gotten to know him better. From his left side, he could hear some groaning, whimpering every now and then. Not long after, a shadow fell over his body as Greg crawled over, crying and shaking still, murmuring apologies over and over mixed with something that sounded like attempted confessions that never quite got there. The idea would've made Tony smile, but he had no strength left to do so.
Took you long enough, he thought. It was as if he had permission to die now; it wasn't long before he closed his eyes and his mind went quiet. There was screaming, someone yelling as if they were arguing with someone, though it sounded far away as he drifted off to the end.