The gym was buzzing like a hive—lights strobing, bass shaking the walls, glitter confetti already sticking to his shoes. Pugsley hated dances. Too many people, too much noise, too much everything. But tonight was different.

Because Eugene was here.

They’d arrived together with Wednesday and Enid. Enid practically dragged Wednesday across the dance floor the second the music hit, leaving Pugsley and Eugene stranded in the sea of sweaty teenagers and flashing lights.

And Pugsley couldn’t stop staring.

Matching suits. Crisp black with little gold accents, Enid’s idea. Eugene looked like he’d been born in his, curls neat for once, glasses catching the neon glow. Pugsley’s chest felt tight, but not in the bad way—more like the kind of nerves that made him want to laugh and punch something at the same time.

“Crowded, huh?” Eugene said, voice raised to be heard over the music.

Pugsley nodded, eyes glued to him. “Doesn’t matter.”

Eugene adjusted his tie nervously, scanning the crowd. “We should, uh—maybe find somewhere less packed?”

Pugsley almost said yes. Almost. But then Eugene shifted closer—just a hair, just enough so their shoulders brushed in the chaos—and Pugsley’s brain short-circuited.

“No,” he said, louder than he meant to. Eugene looked at him, surprised. “I mean—here’s fine. With you. Here’s fine.”