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Parties weren't Pugsley's thing in the slightest. Not now, not ever.
One of his earliest memories was his 6th birthday, when his parents had invited their entire lineage and friends to a party celebrating another year of his life. After blowing the haphazardous fire atop of his cake out, he had eaten and then ran straight to his bedroom to play with his new toys (firecrackers and a plastic replica of a bazooka).
He had enjoyed that party, because he had the liberty of escaping it and enjoying it on his own terms — enjoying it by himself.
However, in Nevermore, Pugsley couldn't just run away from any party, especially one that everyone seemed to be attending. Even nerdy, anti-social boys like Eugene.
Eugene didn't seem like the partying type, at least from what Pugsley was able to gather from his sceptical behaviour and introversion. But when Eugene had heard about the party some of Ajax's friends were throwing in Caliban Hall, he surprisingly had been down to join.
Which meant that Pugsley was going too, no questions asked.
Ever since the incident with Slurp — Isaac, Pugsley and Eugene had gotten really close. They ate every meal together, brushed their teeth simultaneously mornings and evenings, and had basically the exact same class schedules (apart from outcast-specific classes). They were inseperable.
So when Eugene had heard about the party and decided to go, who was Pugsley to not tag along?
This party wasn't Pugsley's thing at all.
He had drunk two and a half beers that tasted like fresh warm piss straight out of the can (or dick). He wasn't totally wasted, but he certainly felt a buzz — nothing like the constant electricity running through his body, though.
The bassline of another loud pop song Pugsley hadn't ever heard thumped in his chest, probably seeping into the loneliest corners of the academy just from the sheer volume.
Pugsley felt like a sheltered child. While his peers sang and danced along to each song that played, Pugsley frowned, because out of the hundreds of songs he had heard, he had only recognised four extremely mainstream ones. He felt a bit stupid.
He also frowned, because he couldn't find Eugene anywhere.
Earlier, Eugene had shouted to Pugsley over the synth of the song that played that he was going to the bathroom — all the shots and drinks he had catching up to his poor bladder — before disappearing, leaving Pugsley alone in the midst of horny, humping teenagers and the smell of something fruity and something moist.
It was his personal hell.
"Hey dude!" a hand clapped against his back, knocking all of his air out. "Do you wanna help a guy out?" Ajax's voice echoed in Pugsley's ear.
"With what?" Pugsley asked, sceptical of anything that was asked of him tonight.
Ajax grinned, breath smelling of alcohol and something else organic he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Ice, my man! Let's go get us some iiiceee!" He screamed in joy, dragging the word "ice" out like a DJ hyping the crowd up for a song with that specific name.
Pugsley wasn't able to protest. Ajax was already pulling him out of the room with unsurprising strength, considering he was Pugsley's upperclassman (a senior), and seemingly worked out.
Half of Pugsley was glad he got out of the crowded room, the noise was making his head ache. The other half of Pugsley however was concerned for Eugene. What if Eugene wandered back out into the party in complete panic, unable to find Pugsley, his bro, his partner in crime, his support, his other ha—
"You're thinking real loud, what's going on?" Ajax rudely interrupted his red string of thoughts. The two had made it all the way to the commissary kitchen, which was unsurprisingly empty this time of night.
Pugsley chewed the inside of his cheek. Should he tell Ajax? The cons were outweighing the pros, but then again, Ajax was definitely not remembering what Pugsley was wanting to tell him tomorrow morning, anyway.
"Um," Pugsley started, his nerves making lightning bolts flash between his fingers. Fuck. "Well.."
Ajax let out a funny "a-ha!" as he picked the door open with a bobby pin, almost like agents did in those movies Pugsley had watched in class on pizza days. He barely remembered those.
They walked into the kitchen, Ajax beelining for the commercial freezer — one that remarkably resembled the one in his basement at home, though Pugsley wasn't sure if that one was used for storing ice, or something else entirely.
"So, what's up with you, man?" he asked while struggling with pulling ice bags out of the freezer. Pugsley walked over and started helping.
"Well, I don't know."
"Oh, there has to be something up with you, Pugsley."
Pugsley sighed. "I just," he started, voice fading into a mutter. "I just," he stuttered, starting up again before his voice died back down, like a laptop's fans stop their agonizing whir after hours of labor.
Ajax closed the freezer with a huff. "Pugsley. Whatever it is that's bothering you, I can help. We're bros, right?"
Pugsley nodded, shuffling his feet slightly like a shy school girl. "Well, it's Eugene."
"What about Eugene?"
What's not about Eugene these days, anyway? It seemed like his entire life revolved around the guy.
"I like him."
"Heey, me too!"
"Not like that, Ajax."
"What? Are you telling me I'm not liking Eugene enough? He's a good kid!" Ajax had a bewildered look on his face (as bewildered as someone intoxicated could look), and Pugsley couldn't tell whether he was mocking him or not.
"It's nothing, dude," Pugsley sighed, throwing one of the bags over his shoulder. "Let's go, we've been gone long enough."
Ajax giggled. "Okay little man. Just know that I'm here for you!"
"Sure," he snorted.
The two walked back in silence, or well, Pugsley did, while Ajax blabbed his ear off. It was funny. The guy had jokes and seemed like he always was in good humor, despite his failing romances. Pugsley ended up carrying two bags while Ajax carried one. (He complained about the cold, Pugsley didn't even notice it.)
Opening the door and walking back into the party felt like entering hell again. Pugsley hadn't noticed how humid it really was in the packed dorm, despite it being quite spacious. The booming bass tickled his eardrums, and he wanted back out. His tipsiness was wearing off too, now left with a bad aftertaste of wheat and something else inexplicable in his mouth.
Pugsley and Ajax dragged the bags of ice next to the suspicious-looking communal drink cooler, Pugsley assisting Ajax with tearing one of the bags open and pouring it into the box.
"Hey, speaking of Eugene," Ajax started, making Pugsley's head perk up faster than anyone could say his sweet, precious name. "Your guy is over there!"
"Over where? Pugsley's head whipped around the room.
"Dumbass," Ajax slapped the back of his head lightly — playfully, as he laughed dazedly. "Over there!" he pointed his finger at the crowd in the center of the room.
There, indeed, Eugene was. But definitely not how he expected. Actually, Eugene's current state was the complete antipode of what Eugene was. Calm, nervous, timid.
This was not timid.
This wasn't Eugene.
There, in the middle of the room, amidst all the chaos that was taking place in the room, danced Eugene with Agnes.
Eugene and Agnes swayed their hips to the beat of whatever played over the speakers. Eugene climbed onto a nearby couch's armrest, glass bottle in his hand swaying in the air as he smiled and danced with Agnes.
What the fuck.
Agnes grabbed onto Eugene's hand, twirling him around like a ballerina. Eugene returned the favor, spinning her around twice as much. As he lifted his hand up, his shirt and T-shirt rode up with the movement, exposing a sliver of his delicious and tanned abdominal skin, glistening with sweat. They sang along with everyone else, something about not seeing straight.
Pugsley saw straight. He could see straight at his future — or what he desired to be his past, present and future.
Eugene looked beautiful. He looked like a sweaty angel, a halo of lights dancing on the beautiful dark layers of his curls. His lips shined with whatever he was drinking, smile twinkling so bright Pugsley felt as if he was going blind.
Pugsley felt, and yet, he didn't know what to feel.
His legs moved him automatically through the crowd, closer to the light that was Eugene, like a moth to a flame.
Beautiful. That's what Eugene looked like.
The song ended with Eugene hollering at the top of his lungs, jumping down from the couch — which was a bad idea, apparently, because he started swaying uncontrollably, his balance a lost cause.
Pugsley instinctively moved to catch Eugene by his armpits. The crowd started moving in waves again, on beat to a new song playing. Agnes stood atop of a coffee table now, with some girl her age Pugsley hadn't ever seen, not like he cared.
Eugene tilted his head back to look up at his saviour, face erupting in a smile wider than any he had given tonight.
"Pugs!" the boy screamed, suddenly regaining balance and turning around to hug him enthusiastically. He — wow — smelled like honey, citrus, booze, and something so masculine but so sweet, it made Pugsley weak in the knees. He felt his mouth water.
"What are you doing?" Pugsley reluctantly moved away from the hug. "I wasn't gone for that long, how are you even drunker?"
"The magic of parties, Pugsley!" Eugene yelled, jumping up and down before taking another swig of his drink. Whatever it was, it was gone now.
Pugsley felt electricity ripple in his hands again, almost like the electricity responded to any intense emotion Pugsley felt. Eugene usually was the cause of these emotional outbursts. Pugsley didn't have the time to think about it right now.
"I think we should go back to our dorm now," Pugsley shouted into Eugene's ear, the volume of the music driving him insane. He had half a mind to electrocute the whole speaker system into shambles, but he wasn't a party pooper.
"Noo," Eugene whined, grabbing his shoulder with his empty hand, shaking. "The party's getting good!"
"The party has been good for you, it seems."
"No it hasn't!"
"Eugene," Pugsley looked directly into his eyes. "It's 2 a.m., and you're gonna be so painfully hungover tomorrow, you're gonna whine at me for not taking care of you."
Eugene pouted, looking down at the floor before looking back up at Pugsley again. "Okay."
It was that easy? Pugsley felt his heart palpitate as he grabbed Eugene's arm.
"C'mon, let's go."
They pushed through the crowd, hopped over a couple of werewolves making out on the carpet, rolling around like piglets in mud. The dorm seemed never-ending, and obstacles kept coming up.
Pugsley's eyes finally landed on the door, feeling immediate relief. He pushed it open and closed it behind them, taking a deep breath of non-pubescent, crisp air. The thumping of the bass followed them outside of the dorm and into the stairwell. He could still hear the lyrics of the final chorus of whatever was playing. They heard cheering and clapping, Eugene hooting along, before the new song came on. Soft guitar chords before a steady drum rhythm.
Eugene gasped. "This is my song!"
"What."
"Please, can we go back and dance?" Pugsley couldn't believe what he was hearing. In no universe would Eugene Ottinger ever beg to crawl back into a crowded room and dance before everyone's judging eyes.
"Gene," Pugsley felt like months of his life were slipping away the more he stayed up. "You seriously want to dance?"
"Yes!"
Pugsley sighed. He stood there, gazing into Eugene's pleading eyes, chocolate-brown and mesmerizing.
"If you wanna dance, you're gonna have to dance here in the stairwell with me."
Eugene's frown melted into a smile so genuine, Pugsley's skin was developing 1st degree sunburns.
Eugene set the bottle down on the hardwood floor, grabbing Pugsley's hands. Eugene had no real sense of rhythm, he swinged Pugsley's hands in the air, swaying his hips to the gentle bassline of the song. A soft smile set itself on Pugsley's face. He moved Pugsley's hands to hold onto his hips — something so simple but so intimate, it made Pugsley feel dizzy. Eugene's feet tapped on the wooden floor as he slowly rotated them as they danced. He pulled himself away, walking backwards with a stupid smirk, pulling Pugsley towards him by his shirt.
Eugene was intoxicating. Everything from his hips to the way his shirt hugged his angular shoulders to the dewiness of his sweaty face. Perfect.
"I don't know how to dance like this, dude," Pugsley admitted, laughing at himself in a pathetic manner. "I don't know the steps to this dance."
Eugene scoffed. "There are no steps to this, dumbass. You dance how you feel like dancing."
"I'm used to dancing being very uniform. Like tango."
"You mean you know tango, but y'don't know how to sway with me?"
"Yeah," Pugsley smiled sheepishly.
"You Addams folks are so odd," Eugene smiled, dancing closer to Pugsley. He could feel Eugene's breath on his neck, raising the hairs on his arms. "You're lucky you have me to teach you."
Pugsley sure was.
The song ended, and Eugene pulled himself away from Pugsley, giving him a bow. Pugsley laughed, curtsying.
"No way you curtsied for me."
"It was the polite thing to do, Señor Ottinger," he replied, making Eugene explode into a fit of laughter. Pugsley felt something twist in his stomach, but he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or something else entirely. "Let's go home now."
Eugene sniffled after calming down, picking his bottle up from the floor. "Okay, if you insist, Señor Addams."
The walk back to the dorm was treacherous. Eugene kept making shitty jokes that Pugsley couldn't not laugh at. Eugene's wit was something for the books, Pugsley was convinced.
When they finally got the door open, Eugene stumbled into Pugsley's bed, too lazy to crawl into his, which was "way further from the door", apparently.
He sat there, kicking his shoes off and almost tripping Pugsley with the way he flinged them across the floor. He still kept the empty bottle in his hand, twirling it around.
"What's that, anyway?" Pugsley pointed at the bottle, sitting down next to Eugene after putting his and Eugene's shoes away neatly, a habit his parents drilled into his head.
"Um, I don't know."
"It says orange soju on the bottle."
Eugene perked up, "Oh yeah! I got this from Enid. It's good."
Was every single one of their seniors an alcoholic? That question remained a mystery for Pugsley, although he assumed the answer was yes, based on all the evidence he'd gathered over the night.
He tilted the bottle towards Pugsley, letting him take a whiff. That's what Eugene had smelled of all night. Sweet, tangy and alcoholic. It was nauseatingly addicting.
Eugene brought the bottle back to his own face, pressing the mouth of the bottle to his plush lips. His eyes moved to look at Pugsley from the side, before opening his mouth and tapping the neck of the bottle on his tongue in a manner so sinful Pugsley lost all the air in his lungs.
He felt his cheeks grow hot and something twitch in his pants at the sight. Eugene was like something straight out of a porno magazine, something Pugsley wanted tattooed on his eyeballs forever. The corners of Eugene's mouth quirked up, like he knew what he was doing, like he knew what he was insinuating. Such a little shit.
Eugene slid the bottle off his tongue, Pugsley not missing the way his saliva connected to the mouth of the bottle momentarily. Eugene set the bottle down on the floor, under the bed, before leaning on Pugsley's shoulder.
By now, the night was nearing 3 a.m., and Pugsley couldn't tell if he was hallucinating everything Eugene was doing to him. Eugene looked up at him with eyes so pleading, he could've rivalled a puppy.
"Pugsley," he whispered, gaze flicking from Pugsley's eyes to his lips, leaning in in slow-mo.
Pugsley was dying, his breath hitching as his heart beat at a dangerous pace. Was he about to—
Eugene burped.
He fucking burped.
"I'm so hungry, Pugs'," he whined, frowning as his stomach growled.
Pugsley squeezed his eyes shut, clasping his hands together in restraint. Right, Eugene was drunk, and Pugsley didn't really want their first kiss to be at a time like this. Not drunk like this.
"Alright," Pugsley groaned as he got up from the bed. "I'll find you something to eat, but then you're going straight to bed, okay?"
A yawn. "Okay, Señor Ottinger."
Pugsley chuckled, playing along as he rummaged through their room in search for snacks — or literally anything edible (and up to Eugene's standards, so not bugs). "Señor Ottinger? Wouldn't you wanna be Señor Addams instead?"
Eugene hummed sleepily. "That's good, too."
Pugsley smiled to himself, albeit bittersweet. Eugene wasn't going to remember this the next day.
At last, a bag of sourcream and onion chips caught Pugsley's eye. Perfect.
"Okay, I found something—"
Apparently Pugsley had taken too long foraging for a snack, because when he turned back around, Eugene had collapsed sideways into Pugsley's bed, snoring softly, most definitely exhausted from the active night.
A sheepish smile appeared onto Pugsley's face as he set the flimsy bag on his nightstand. He hoped Eugene's jeans and shirt were comfortable enough to sleep in, and that Eugene didn't mind Pugsley sleeping in his bed.
They could regret tonight tomorrow. The good thing was that they both made it safely back to their dorm, instead of passing out on someone's couch and being subjected to sharpie doodles on their faces.
Pugsley sighed softly, before lying down on Eugene's bed, still clothed.
"Good night, pendejo."