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The streets were quieter at night, the kind of quiet that made every step echo a little too loudly. Eugene wandered aimlessly, half-trying to clear his mind, half moving, hoping for something, anything, to break the dull rhythm of his days.
He had gone out to cure his boredom—letting his feet move without having to command it.
And then he saw it.
The billboard.
Lit from below and above, its soft white and gold glow spilling into the darkness, illuminating the street like a stage. Eugene froze mid-step, heart thudding painfully against his ribs.
There he was.
Pugsley Addams.
Dressed in his Grandmama's latest promotional outfit—a heavy fur coat and a matching fur hat that made his round face look smaller, more delicate, somehow impossible to look away from. On the right side of the billboard, in bold, elegant letters—
Pugsley Addams
Eugene didn’t move.
He wanted to. He wanted to yell, to run up and touch the coat, to scream at him he’d missed him too—that he’d thought about him every single day since their last.. whatever it was.
But he couldn’t.
He just stood there, letting the light from the billboard wash over Pugsley’s face, illuminating the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes seemed almost alive through the glow.
Pugsley’s smile was the same—that small little smirk that used to irritate Eugene, fur coat slightly puffed out, and eyes narrow. The way he posed, the tilt of his head, the confidence that never truly existed anywhere else—it all hit Eugene like a massive train.
Eugene’s chest ached. It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just friendship.
He missed him.
He missed this Pugsley—the one who could be dramatic and extravagant, who could dress in a ridiculous outfit for an advertisement and make it somehow seem effortless without practice at all. Who could be himself in front of the world in a way Eugene never got to see in private.
And now he was just there. On a wall. Illuminated. Untouchable.
Eugene’s hands twitched in his coat pockets. He imagined stepping closer, letting the light brush over his fingers as if that could reach across the distance. He imagined Pugsley noticing him from the street below, tilting his head in recognition, maybe even smiling in that mischievous way that Eugene had memorized months ago.
He swallowed hard, the sensation leaving a bitter ache in his throat. Every streetlamp, every shadowed corner, every echoing footstep seemed to stretch the moment longer, turn it into something unbearable.
Pugsley’s face seemed softer in the glow, the fur hat framing it like a halo. Eugene’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want to call it longing anymore—not when it felt like a physical weight pressing on him from the inside.
He wanted him.
Not as a roommate. Not as a friend. Not as someone to tolerate his weird insect hyperfixation.
He wanted Pugsley.
The billboard flickered slightly as a passing car cast a bright beam across the wall. Eugene’s eyes tracked the movement, trying to memorize every detail—the subtle curve of Pugsley’s smile, the way his piercings caught the light, the sparkle in his eyes even when he was just promoting his Grandmama's business.
And it hit him.
This wasn’t just admiration. This wasn’t just a little crush or a wish for closeness. This was yearning. Full, real, un-ignorable yearning. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to press himself against Pugsley’s side and never let go. He wanted to hear that voice laugh at something they only knew and know that it was only for him.
He wanted to touch Pugsley's face through that billboard, to feel him one more time—to know he still existed. To feel Pugsley lean into his touch, and to not escape from his touch. He wanted to run his hands through Pugsley slicked back hair, to make it become messy and unkempt.
But he couldn’t.
Eugene’s knees felt weak. He wanted to sink into the curb, letting the glow of the billboard spill over him like molten gold. The world kept moving—cars honking, late-night pedestrians chatting, the occasional wind blowing papers across the street—but none of it reached him. None of it mattered. All that existed was that illuminated face in a fur coat, that name glowing confidently in the corner.
He whispered, barely audible, as if saying it aloud could make it more real that it already was—
“I miss you.”
The words hung in the night air, swallowed almost immediately by the city sounds. Eugene’s throat tightened. His hands curled into fists. His stomach twisted. The ache in his chest deepened, and he didn’t even try to fight it anymore.
'I miss you. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.'
And there was nothing to do but sit there, let the light wash over him, and let the feelings simmer until they burned.
Pugsley, on the billboard, eyes shining with the same mischievous way when he did something outrageous—like pulling pranks, yet his eyes and smile were something he felt he hadn't seen in years. It's only been months. He wanted that soft smile on that billboard to belong to him.
His head was tilted in a way that Eugene swore looked like he was staring directly at him. Eugene’s lips parted, a small, half-formed smile trembling on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
This wasn’t resolution. This wasn’t comfort. This wasn’t a reunion.
It was just longing. Pure and unfiltered longing.
And Eugene didn’t care.
He couldn’t.
He had seen the face he’d been thinking about every night. He had seen the name he had whispered in the dark when he thought no one could hear. And for one brief, aching moment, he allowed himself to feel it fully.
To want him fully.
Finally, the glow of the billboard flickered again, a reminder that even this light was temporary. Eugene's back straightened slowly—forcing his legs to move away from Pugsley, and turned away from the wall. But even as he walked into the night, into the empty streets of Nevermore, the image burned behind his eyelids.
Pugsley Addams.
The name was a whisper in his mind, a promise, a curse, a longing he couldn’t let go of. And Eugene didn’t try to erase him.
Because some things—some people—were made to haunt you.
Because some faces were made for you to miss.
But there were some faces that were made for you to continue seeing.
And Pugsley was one of them.