The hallway buzzed with bodies between classes, everyone shoving books into lockers and yelling across the noise. Pugsley walked a step behind Eugene, as usual, keeping his eyes trained on the back of his head like it was his job. Which, in his mind, it was.

He pulled out his phone to check the time before study hall. The lockscreen flashed to life: Eugene, caught mid-laugh with wildflowers Pugsley had shoved into his curls weeks ago. Still perfect. Still his. Pugsley smirked at it for half a second, then shoved the phone back in his pocket like it was no big deal.

Eugene didn’t notice. Or maybe he did. Didn’t matter.

They split off toward their assigned study halls, Eugene ducking into the library, Pugsley heading toward the back corner classroom where the teacher didn’t care if he scribbled in his notebook instead of working.

He sat down, pulled out his phone again, and without even thinking, shot off a text.

Pugsley → Eugene Wanna go to that cafe you mentioned later, love? And attached? Three photos of Eugene he'd taken behind his back.

Classic Pugsley romance.

He tossed the phone onto his desk, already satisfied. No apology, no explanation. Eugene would get it. Or he wouldn’t. Either way, Pugsley had made his point: distance didn’t matter. He was still watching.