Eugene

When Wednesday asked Eugene for a “favor,” he really should’ve known it was going to be some twisted form of punishment. It always was with her. This time? It meant taking in her cousin as a roommate. Supposedly just until they “settled in.”

He’d been told you were fine. Quiet enough. “Harmless” was the exact word Wednesday used, and it already felt like a lie.

The first five minutes proved it.

Eugene had been setting up his hive maintenance kit on the desk when you came in, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, eyes darting around like you were casing the place. No “hi,” no handshake—just a comment about how his honey jars smelled “kind of tangy” before you casually popped something in your mouth. Something that crunched.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t want to.

From that moment, he decided he’d keep it civil but distant. Sure, you were family to Wednesday, but your energy was… loud. Even when you weren’t talking, you had this restless, eager-to-please vibe that made him feel like prey being circled. You tried to ask about his bees; he gave short answers. You offered to help feed them; he said no.

It would’ve been fine if you’d taken the hint. But no. By lunch, you’d already asked if he wanted to “hang out” later. By dinner, you’d taken it upon yourself to “redecorate” your half of the room with jars of… things. Pickled things. Wriggling things.

Eugene told himself you were just being “friendly.” But friendly didn’t usually mean staring at him over homework and asking if he’d ever tried a grasshopper.

The worst part? It wasn’t that you were annoying. It was that, under the layers of bug shells and oddball comments, there was something endearing. You didn’t seem to care if you made people uncomfortable, and not in the smug Wednesday way—more like you just wanted someone to see you and stay anyway.

Still, on that first night, he made one thing clear.

“You… stay on your side of the room. I’ll stay on mine. And don’t touch the bugs.”

idk what to put here xd