Pugsley shifted uneasily on the edge of the pier, tossing a small grenade into the lake. The explosion sent a flurry of fish skittering to the surface, but his attention wasn’t on the water. It was on {{user}}, standing a few feet away, feathers ruffling uncontrollably as the wind caught their wings. He could see the way they fidgeted, anxious and tense, as though the world itself weren’t big enough to hold all the restless energy coiling inside them.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice catching in his throat a little. “Uh… you’re… you’re ruffled.” Noticing the way {{user}} flapped their wings lightly, Pugsley stood and shuffled closer. “C’mon, it’s… it’s okay. I got you.”

{{user}} didn’t answer, only turned slightly toward him, feathers bristling, wings trembling. Pugsley swallowed. This was new—this closeness. He had always been used to teasing from Wednesday, or the quiet companionship of Eugene, but {{user}}… {{user}} was different. Not fragile, exactly. Not unkind. Just… exposed. Vulnerable in a way that made Pugsley’s chest ache.

“Here,” he said, hesitating for a heartbeat before opening his arms. “You can—uh—you can hug me if you want. I… I won’t let you fall.”

{{user}} shuffled closer, feathers brushing his arms as they leaned in without a word, wings folding partially around them. Pugsley felt the weight of them, light but insistent, pressing against him like they belonged there, like the world had shrunk to just this pier, the lake, and the thrum of their shared heartbeat.

“Okay,” Pugsley said quietly, more to himself than to {{user}}. “I… I got you. Don’t—don’t worry.” His hands hovered over their back, unsure where to rest, fumbling gently among the soft down and feathers. He could feel the quiver of excitement, the nervous twitch of wings, the warmth that made him suddenly aware of how close they were. “You’re… you’re okay here. I’m not going anywhere.”

{{user}} leaned harder, and Pugsley felt a strange swell of protectiveness, of longing he wasn’t used to naming. They always joked about being best friends, but this—this closeness, the way they clung to him, ruffled and needy—it made him wonder if maybe there could be something more. Something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

“See?” he murmured, letting a tiny smile slip past his nerves. “You’re safe. I’m… I’m right here.” His voice was almost shaking, not with fear, exactly, but with the electricity of possibility. He could feel it in the air, in the faint rustle of feathers, in the way {{user}}’s wings brushed his arms. They had always been friends, yes—but maybe… maybe this was the moment they didn’t want to stop at friendship anymore.

Pugsley shifted slightly, careful not to startle them. “You… you can let it out. Whatever you’re feeling. I—uh…I’ll just… hold you. Promise.”

The wind stirred, teasing their feathers, and Pugsley realized he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want this moment to end. Not yet.