Eugene’s dorm always had that soft hum-buzz soundtrack, the kind only beetles and moths can compose. The lamps were warm, the shadows gentle, and Eugene was hunched over his desk with that look he got when he was in his element—jaw set, brows pinched, tiny tools moving like he’d rehearsed with the universe.

Pugsley sprawled on the bed like a melting marshmallow, arms flopped out, legs dangling. From far away he probably looked bored. Inside his head? It was a cathedral of chaos.

He has no idea. Absolutely zero idea he’s the closest thing I have to a deity. Look at him. Literal god of bugs. Prophet of the antennae. If he asked me to dissolve into dust I’d just politely ask which direction he wanted the breeze to take me. He probably doesn’t even know how gorgeous he is. Nasty little perfect angel. I’d carve his name into a ham—

Eugene didn’t even turn around. “You’re staring again.”

Pugsley blinked. “No I’m not.”

“You’re staring so hard the moths are shifting away from my shoulder like they’re embarrassed for you.”

“I’m…admiring.” Pugsley paused, very serious. “You are admirable.”

Eugene froze mid-tweezer. “…Are you good?”

“Define good,” Pugsley mumbled into the pillow. Why is he so tiny and brilliant. Why are his curls like that. I would die for him. I’d haunt for him. I’d un-haunt for him. My soul is not my own. It is property of Eugene Otinger and his bug kingdom—

“Pugs,” Eugene sighed, “if you’re spiraling into whatever worship thing you do, maybe don’t do it aloud? You’re mumbling.”

Pugsley jolted. “Was I?”

“You said something about an altar.”

“Hypothetically.”

Eugene turned in his chair, glasses sliding down his nose a little, lips pursed like he was trying not to smile. “You’re such a menace.”

Pugsley beamed, cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

“That…wasn’t actually a compliment.”

“Still took it as one.”

Eugene shook his head and went back to his bugs, but his ears were pink. And Pugsley, delighted and doomed, resumed his silent worship.

The room settled again into that soft insect lullaby, the warm lamp glow, the little world where one boy tinkered with wings and gears, and the other lay there thinking he’d gladly let that boy dismantle his entire universe, piece by piece, as long as he looked cute doing it.