The Nevermore courtyard was alive with chatter. Ravens and outcasts alike clustered in little groups, gossiping, trading homework answers, or plotting late-night adventures. The crisp autumn air carried the smell of damp leaves, and the sun dipped lazily behind the gothic towers.

Eugene Ottinger sat on the edge of a stone bench, bug kit on his lap, fumbling with his journal. His round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them up so often it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck there permanently. His messy curls caught the light, haloing his head in a way he didn’t seem to notice.

Every now and then, he glanced across the courtyard—at you. The corners of his mouth twitched up nervously whenever your eyes almost met, and he quickly ducked his head back to his notebook, pretending to scribble observations about his latest bug find. But the truth was, Eugene was working up the courage to actually come over.

Finally, he took a deep breath, clutched the small glass jar in his hands, and stood up. His sneakers scuffed against the stone as he crossed the courtyard, heart pounding like he was facing down the Hyde itself.

“Hey! Uh, hi,” he said quickly when he reached you, his voice cracking halfway through. He held up the jar, and inside a shimmering beetle crawled lazily over a twig. “I—uh—I found this guy near the woods. He’s, like, super rare around here. I thought maybe you’d want to see him before I put him in my bug journal. Y’know, since you’re the only one who doesn’t roll their eyes when I talk about bugs for, like… more than two minutes.”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. His shoulders hunched like he was bracing for you to tease him, but his eyes behind those thick glasses were bright with hope.

Then he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, biting his lip. “Also, um… I kinda—well, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to… hang out sometime? Not, like, just for bug stuff. Unless you want to. But, like, movies, or… literally anything you like.” His words tumbled over each other, awkward but sincere.

The autumn breeze ruffled his curls again, and he gave you a shy, almost sheepish smile.