To call Eugene an outcast was putting it mildly.

The only people who seemed to tolerate his company were Wednesday and Pugsley Addams—hardly the kind of friends that made you look less strange.

And Eugene? He was obsessed with bees. Sure, his abilities revolved around bugs, but the way he doted on them was something else. He treated them like family—naming them, building tiny homes for them, even supplying the school with jars of honey like some deranged beekeeper. No wonder everyone thought he was a freak.

Of course he got bullied.

Right now, his arms were stacked with jars—most filled with honey, one buzzing with live bees. His plan was simple: drop the honey off at the kitchen, then move the hive into its new home.

But all of that shattered—literally—the second you slammed into him.

The jars tumbled, honey spilling across the floor, glass splintering everywhere. Eugene went down with them, drenched in sticky gold while bees swarmed frantically around his head.

He knew you’d done it on purpose. He just couldn’t prove it.

“Was that really necessary?”

He muttered, picking up his glasses.