Chapter Text
During the trip, Eugene obviously ended up falling asleep, even more so because he had woken up early that same day to apologize to Pugsley – which wasn't really a true apology, but it's not like anyone needed to find out or know about it.
While all that tiredness continued until Eugene finally fell asleep, Pugsley stared and observed every detail: how the other's eyes slowly closed but then quickly opened as he realized he was falling asleep, his mouth slightly open, since he apparently slept like that because of his breathing, his hand supporting the entire weight of his head alone, and how the boy managed to look beautiful no matter what.
He watched Eugene sleep now. He was leaning on the armrest of the bus seat that was between them, so the boy was very close. Too close, even.
But it seemed his head could fall off at any moment with such weak support – which was Eugene's own hand, which already appeared to be numb.
Then, in less than a second, Pugsley moved his hands forward, slowly shifting the boy's head onto his shoulder, doing his best not to wake him. Surprisingly, something had finally worked. Eugene hadn't even opened his eyes, and now he had gained a new support to sleep on without even being conscious enough to know it.
Pugsley smiled while looking down, realizing he had managed to do that – he was happy to have helped his friend, but, meanwhile, another duo beside them looked rather strangely at the situation.
...
Now, Eugene was already far away. Pugsley gently lifted the boy's head before waking him, knowing he would find him strange again if he realized what he had done in his sleep. He didn't want that.
But, that moment had already occurred at least ten minutes ago. Pugsley was setting up their tent, knowing that Eugene had gone off to catch some insects. It didn't take long for the tent to be ready in the strange way he had designed it so that no one could actually enter and see Slurp, or that he himself wouldn't "leave without permission."
It wasn't something he imagined would last for very long, much less something Eugene wouldn't notice right away.
But, it wasn't as if Eugene would show up anytime soon – he had muttered something about his other friends before getting off the bus.
...
Pugsley was right.
It was night now - one of the only times Eugene had finally entered the tent. The boy was yelling at him now, talking about how dangerous this was and something about him being crazy. Pugsley wasn't thinking about anything. He only stared at Ottinger - so intently that he was almost drooling. It felt strange when he yelled at him. He felt his stomach churn and his body get hot - very hot, which was abnormal, since his natural temperature was always incredibly cold.
He watched intently as his mouth moved. He talked, talked, and talked. His hair moved along with it, bouncing because of the strands of curls - so tidy and voluminous. Pugsley already knew he was a strange person, but he felt even more so every time he stared at Eugene for more than a few mere seconds.
He wanted to be the other's only friend.
He wanted to watch him like an owl hiding behind a tree for days on end.
He wanted to catch every loose strand of hair that fell from the boy's head in their shared bathroom.
He wanted to always be the reason for his outbursts of anger and his embarrassed smiles.
He wanted to be the bed he lied on so often.
He wanted to be the bristles of his toothbrush to run over all that oral territory.
He wanted to run his cold hands over that warm skin and…
He snapped out of all these thoughts when he heard a clear sentence coming from Eugene:
"Either you kill that zombie, or I'll sleep in another tent and report him to the whole school." He spoke in a serious and angry tone now. He was very close to Pugsley.
Would it be strange to say that he cared more about Eugene abandoning him alone in the tent than about killing Slurp? He knew that before he was desperate if something happened to the zombie, but he felt even more suffocated by the thought of the boy leaving and abandoning him... Perhaps that was what a divorce felt like?
He didn't knew what to say. He clearly heard Eugene murmur something like a "why did I agree to become his colleague?…". His heart ached. He didn't wanted Ottinger to avoid him and apply all those rules again. He liked hearing him yell at him, but he wouldn't even witness that anymore if he didn't kill Slurp.
However, Slurp was also his friend. His best friend. His only friend.
But it was Eugene who he was thinking about.
"I'm going to kill him." His expression was cold. Ottinger swore he felt some kind of chill when he saw that, but he ignored it, maintaining his commanding posture for the moment.
Pugsley opened the coffin immediately afterward. He wasn't going to waste all his energy on the zombie, besides, people could hear from afar if he did that. He took a deep breath and whispered an "sorry" before pulling Slurp's torn clothes up a little and ripping the clock heart out from inside.
He stared at his heart. He couldn't look up. He felt like he was going to cry. He hated being so emotional – it was too strange, even for his own family. He threw the metal object to the ground and smashed it with his boot. He crushed it forcefully, as if that would remove some of the guilt he felt inside.
...
He had dug a hole in the exact same shape as the coffin – he knew it would fit perfectly there, but he couldn't muster enough strength to do it. Not only because of his physique, but also because of the mental pain of the image of his best friend simply lying there – now completely dead, again.
He saw a few tears from his own face fall onto the coffin. He didn't even felt them come out, but he let them fall. He knew he had made the right choice, but it still hurt. He even wanted to bang his head against the shovel he used to dig the hole in the ground so that he could die alongside his best friend.
But he restrained himself from doing it. He wasn't going to die before becoming friends with Eugene. Or something more. He couldn't say how he felt now.
He sighed, and then lifted the coffin with some effort. Slurp weighed on his mind and body at the same time.
After about three minutes, the coffin finally fit perfectly into the hole dug in the ground. Pugsley looked down, not even knowing what to say. He murmured another "I'm sorry". For a few long seconds, he was completely silent, but slowly he accepted the situation and began to cover the spot with the removed soil.
He was in a place in the forest far from the camp, so he didn't even care about crying. He knew that no one would be around at a time like this - much less Eugene. He was the person he worried most about seeing him with that tearful face.
He covered the coffin as slowly as possible. He wanted to have some private time with his deceased and only best friend before returning to the tent and facing a still angry or asleep boy. And he also didn't want to show up anywhere looking like he'd been crying. He didn't even know who might still be wandering around the camp.
At a moment like this, Pugsley even wished he was a preppy girl so he could have a mirror or a cell phone to see how red his face was. He hadn't cried that much, but his pale skin quickly regained color with a few tears. He always hated that, because Wednesday could spot something like that from a mile away. He felt weak.
He tried to let his thoughts drift back to how Eugene was looking like while they were arguing so he wouldn't accidentally hit Slurp's coffin with the shovel because of his anger. He hated remembering who he was and is.
...
He glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror at least five times before returning to the tent. He arrived and his gaze automatically went to a relaxed Eugene sprawled in his sleeping bag. He smiled. Perhaps he hadn't regretted his choice so much.
He would even observe the boy for longer, but he simply told himself he would do it in the morning – the lighting was better. As he walked to his sleeping bag, his attention was drawn to another detail: a note. It was in Eugene's handwriting. It said something brief about Slurp and he apologized for how he had treated him.
Pugsley smiled again. It wasn't a note – it was a speech exercise. Eugene probably wanted to say that to him, but the Addams took so long that the boy simply gave up and fell asleep.
He turned to see Eugene lying there. He got as close as possible, carefully feeling the boy's hand: it was cold, almost frozen. Pugsley used his powers as a form of heat to warm Ottinger, smiling even more as he realized that even unconscious, the other still shivered at the warmth of the heat wave on his body.
He was almost about to kiss the boy. It wasn't possible for anyone to look as magnificent as Eugene did in the dim light of their tent. His hair still shone, his mouth made Pugsley yearn for even the tiniest peck, and his body seemed so slender that the Addams felt he could carry him all over Nevermore for a whole day and not get tired.
He sighed, then went back to his sleeping bag. He knew he had no chance of receiving any kind of romantic physical touch from Eugene, but his dreams might make something happen.
Meanwhile, Eugene - who had gave up from reading the text to Pugsley and was still wide awake from that - was the one whose stomach churned now for some strange reason.