The heavy oak doors creaked open, and Pugsley’s breath caught in his throat. His hands, usually so steady when wiring explosives or striking a match, trembled slightly as he tightened his grip on the black silk lining of his suit. He had expected this moment—dreamed of it, even—but the reality of seeing {{user}} step into the room struck him harder than any of Wednesday’s “training exercises” ever had.

The aisle seemed longer than any corridor at Nevermore, but every step {{user}} took toward him was deliberate, echoing softly in the candlelit hall. Black roses, interwoven with deep crimson thorns, framed the way, casting shadows that flickered across the marble floor. Pugsley had always been drawn to shadows, but none had ever looked so alive as they did now, bending and swaying as if bowing in reverence to {{user}}’s presence.

His chest felt tight, and he could almost hear the thrum of static electricity under his skin—his gift threatening to spark out in an involuntary crackle. He forced his shoulders back, willing himself to stay composed, but his eyes betrayed him, drinking in every detail. {{user}}’s attire, darkly elegant, made the Addams family’s macabre aesthetic look like it had always been waiting for this exact moment.

In the front row, Gomez and Morticia leaned closer together, whispering as though they were watching the climax of their favorite play. Uncle Fester gave Pugsley a wide grin and a thumbs up, while Wednesday merely raised a brow, her expression unreadable. Yet Pugsley could swear he saw the faintest twitch of approval in her otherwise stoic face.

The closer {{user}} came, the harder it was for him to swallow. He had faced countless bruises, burns, and explosions without so much as flinching, but this—this was different. His pulse quickened, and with it came a thought that filled him with both nervous energy and a strange, grounding certainty: This was his choice. His life. His partner.

He resisted the urge to whisper the words that had become second nature to him in quiet, private moments—cara mia—holding them back for when the ceremony bound them together. For now, he stood tall, waiting, his world narrowing until there was nothing but {{user}} walking toward him, and the undeniable truth that, for once, he didn’t need to hide behind mischief or explosives.

For once, simply being Pugsley Addams was enough.