A/N: Hey there, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! Welcome to the next chapter of Euphoria! Quick note before, I updated the prologue chapter quite a bit because I wasn't all that happy at its length and narrative. If you'd like, go give it a read! This chapter may be a bit shorter because of what I have planned for the next one, but we'll see.

Shoutout to Metehor (FF.N) and CryptTheCryptid (AO3) for being the first commenters on the last chapter! As always, the first commenters on this chapter will get a little shoutout at the beginning of the next one!

TW: Mentions of transphobia/homophobia, coarse language, and adult themes

There is something spicy at the end of this chapter! Nothing too obscene, but still a lil' explitive, so if you're not into that, feel free to skip!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey! Arnold...doy.

As the early evening light poured through the main window of Mr. Simmons' English classroom, Arnold found his attention drifting to the boy sitting beside him. The sunlight cast on the slim figure of the blonde teen made his hair look as if it were glowing, his milky-white skin seemed so warm, and his vibrantly blue eyes seemed even brighter.

As the flaxen-haired teen explored the other boy's features, Arnold felt a dopey grin form at the edge of his lips. His gaze was disrupted by the brazen stare cast by two familiar blue eyes, shaking him from his stupor. He cleared his throat to shake off his mild embarrassment from being caught before he shot a faux-innocent smile Hugo's way. The scraggly teen cocked an amused brow in his direction before returning the smile warmly.

It had been about a week since Arnold had begun his deep dive into questioning his sexuality, which had, in turn, become a week of awkwardness between the two blonde teens. Unbeknownst to Hugo, the football-headed boy had stayed up many nights scouring the internet for "Am I Gay?" quizzes and articles on sexuality, each link leaving him more uncertain than the last. The exhaustion was evident on Arnold's face as dark circles clung to his tired green eyes; Hugo chalked up the awkward tension between the two as a byproduct of his beloved's sleepiness. He only worried that something was bothering Arnold so much to keep him up like this, but every time he pressed the flaxen-haired teen, he would quickly dismiss him with some weak excuse.

Arnold hated to shrug his friend off so hastily just as much as he hated the worry-filled tension between them; it wasn't his intention to make things weird, but he found it increasingly difficult to be alone with Hugo. His mind would wander from soft, blue eyes to small hips and pale thighs-

God, there the thoughts go again.

Arnold's train of thought was disrupted by the sound of the scattered applause of the students around him. Today, his class was due to present their poetry for Mr. Simmon's partner assignments. Gerald and Phoebe had just finished their poetry reading; Arnold hadn't fully caught what their sonnet was about, however, as the sound of their voices was drowned out by the dizzy buzzing of the thoughts in his head. Hugo and Arnold were last, he suspected, so he began to dig through his folder for their poem. Slight panic rose in his chest as the boy struggled to find their homework. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before sighing in defeat, looking at Hugo with a worried gaze. He must have forgotten it at home.

Hugo understood his stare as he pulled his pink poetry book from his bag. As Mr. Simmons critiqued Gerald and Phoebe's poem, Hugo scoured his book for something that might meet the assignment's criteria. Finally, the scraggly teen found something he had written last week after spending the night with Arnold and their respective best friends.

The subject matter was a little on the nose, of course, but it would work if he just changed a few words. Hugo replaced the few bold "Arnolds" with a more ambiguous "he" before giving the paper one last once-over. Pleased, he handed the paper to Arnold so he could sign his name; his heart still raced, worried his beloved might lose his usually characteristic denseness and realize each stanza revealed the mushy romantics Hugo felt about him. More still, he worried it would reveal his much more monumental secret to both Arnold and the rest of the class.

Mr. Simmon's all-too-chipper voice interrupted his train of thought, "Lastly, we have Arnold and Hugo! Which of you would like to come up and read your special poem?"

The two blondes exchanged a glance before Hugo begrudgingly stood up, taking the paper from the football-headed teen. With a nervous breath, he padded to the front of the room and faced the class, with a myriad of uninterested gazes and judging glares.

Clearing his throat, he began to read:

"My love, you inspire each word I write.

How I crave your touch, and your kisses, too.

I think of them always, each day and night,

As I await our nearest rendezvous.

Hold me close so that I may remember

How your heart stays true, how your heart stays kind.

Hold me close in this coldest November

So my love stays true and my pain stays blind.

As Hugo read, Arnold listened with bated breath. Their eyes met as the smaller boy read; Hugo barely had to look down at the page as each line fell from his lips. He had practically memorized it as he wrote it.

But how could you love me in my strange ways?

I have not your mind, your heart, nor your soul

Nor do I know how to set your love ablaze.

Hold me close as my love does take its toll.

Writing now, I will set my feelings right,

In hopes that my love you will soon requite.

As Hugo finished, he tugged his eyes away from Arnold's. The younger blonde knew, of course, that the poem was about him. He wasn't supposed to know, but he did, and it made his stomach erupt in butterflies and his breath hitched in his throat. He was sure his face was scarlet red or, at least, an obvious shade of pink. What was he supposed to say to that?

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Hugo. The butterflies in his stomach were too much. The heat of the blush that burned his face was too much. The confusion that fogged his mind was too much. He didn't know how to handle any of this.

As Hugo stiffly handed the paper to their teacher, he gathered the courage to glance in Arnold's direction. His already pounding heart rattled harder against his chest as he tried to read his beloved's expression. He couldn't quite make out what his dusty pink cheeks meant as a reaction. The sound of Mr. Simmons' voice was drowned out by the ringing in Hugo's ears as he shuffled back to his seat. The scraggly teen all but melted into his chair, unable to look up at the boy next to him. His face felt as if it were on fire.

God, I should have chosen a different poem.

He rested his elbows on his desk, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands.

I hope he's still as dense as he used to be. We are both older now, not middle-schoolers, so even if he realized, Arnold should be able to handle this with a little maturity, right?

He dared to look up at the boy next to him through the gaps in his fingers. Arnold wasn't staring at him anymore; instead. the football-headed teen watched the teacher as he lectured, fiddling absentmindedly with a pencil. Hugo relaxed a little at this.

The last few minutes passed by with relative ease, if you ignore the still-pounding heart in Hugo's chest. Finally, the bell rang for lunch, and Hugo all but flew out of his seat to escape the class and take his usual spot by Arnold as they walked to the cafeteria. Despite Gerald and Phoebe trailing not so far behind them, the air still hung thick with a tension Hugo couldn't quite make sense of. He did his best to make small talk with the boy next to him, but the responses were short, vague, and lifeless.

The scraggly blonde started to feel himself grow upset as their table's conversation drifted far from him. Try as he might, he couldn't get his beloved to acknowledge him for more than a few moments at a time. The rest of the day passed just the same. Idle chitchat passed between them, and the conversation was stiff, at best. The nerves that fluttered in Hugo's stomach during his presentation had contorted into a knot that burned his insides.

Surely, this would pass and everything would go back to normal between them tomorrow.

"A week! What do you mean you haven't spoken to each other in a week?"

Gerald gawked at his football-headed companion, waving his arms sporadically as he spoke. Arnold leaned against his locker, defeated, as he ran his fingers through his flaxen hair. Casting his eyes to the floor, he gave a small shrug.

The other teen smacked Arnold's arm with the back of his hand, "What the hell is wrong with you, dude? He put his ass on the line to make sure you two didn't get a failing grade on the poetry presentation, and you thank him by not saying a damn word to him for over a week?"

Arnold sighed deeply, "I just... I didn't know what to say, and I still don't, Gerald! He stood at the front of the class and professed his love to me."

Gerald pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight in irritation, "I just don't get it, man. You're the one that fucked up and forgot the assignment at home! Plus, you're not even supposed to know how Hugo feels about you. You couldn't at least pretend to be dense about this?"

"You don't understand how difficult this is for me, Gerald! I haven't had someone talk about me like that - write about me like that - since...since Helga." He huffed, "What would you do if you were in my situation?"

"I'm not in your situation, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't know not to be an asshole to the dude that saved my hide. You're the goody-two-shoes who's adamant on keeping his 4.0, not to mention the guy that pressured me into telling you about Hugo's feelings," the brunette scoffed.

Arnold frowned. He knew Gerald was right; he shouldn't ignore Hugo just because he can't get a grip on his own feelings. It had been an awkward week, more so than the one before. He hadn't meant to, but he was sure he made it obvious to Hugo that the tension between them was because of the smaller blonde. It wasn't Hugo's fault, either. Arnold was the one who pressured Gerald to reveal the other boy's secret. Arnold was the one who forgot their assignment at home. Arnold was the one acting like an idiot around the other boy.

He slumped against the cool locker behind him, avoiding his friend's eyes. Exasperated, he spoke, "I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this, ya' know?"

"I don't. Enlighten me, man," Gerald quipped.

"First, a new guy moves to town and starts crushing on me, right? Which is new and strange for me, anyway. On top of that, he looks so much like Helga, and it's made me start having weird dreams and thoughts about him!" Arnold ran a nervous hand through his wild hair, "I don't know if it's because he looks like the ex-girlfriend I'm not over or if it's because he likes me or maybe I like him! Everything is so confusing, Gerald! I haven't slept in weeks because I've spent so many hours of my nights researching and thinking and making myself more confused."

He whipped around to look at the tall, dark-haired boy. His eyes were frantic, and Gerald could see the exhaustion and anxiety that was weighing down on his friend. He paused a moment, ruminating on Arnold's words before finally speaking, "Look, man. I'll never be able to fully understand what you're going through, but I know pushing Hugo away isn't gonna help a damn thing. Above all, he's your friend, and he hasn't done anything that should change that."

"So, what should I do?"

"I would start by apologizing and explaining to him what's going on with you," he replied cooly.

The blonde rolled his eyes, "Yeah, let me just tell Hugo he's been giving me a sexuality crisis because he reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. I'm sure that'll go well."

Gerald smirked, lightly punching his friend on the shoulder, "I know it'll get you a lot farther than you think."

The football-headed teen quirked a bemused eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll figure it out, Arnold."

"Yeah, just like I've figured everything else out about all this," he huffed.

"You mean the 'you being gay' thing?" Gerald quipped.

Arnold felt his face grow red, "I'm not gay, Gerald. I like girls."

"And boys."

He didn't know it was possible, but Arnold felt his face grow even warmer, "I- I don't know about that. I just-"

"You just get boners when Hugo -the boy- wears a skirt, right?" Gerald interrupted.

Arnold swatted at his friend's chest, "Dude, shut up!"

His dark-haired friend cackled at the blonde's obvious discomfort, "So you don't find him just a little attractive?"

"I don't know!" he cried, tugging at his hair frantically, "I don't know if it's because he looks like Helga that he's making me feel... things or if it's his crush on me! Or maybe it's just him. And I don't know if that makes me a little gay or pan or whatever. I just know I'm so confused, Gerald. I'm freaking out!"

Gerald eyed him over, a bemused smirk painting his face, "I can see that."

He pondered a moment, a calloused hand scratching at the small patch of scruff that graced his chin. Finally, he shot a devious grin at his overwhelmed friend, "Have you tried some proper research to see how you feel?"

"I've taken, like, every quiz and read every article, Gerald," he shoved his hands into his pockets, "None of them have helped me figure anything out. It's just made me all the more confused."

The jersey-clad teen chuckled, "Nah, man. I'm talking about a more hands-on approach."

Arnold blinked at him blankly.

"Oh, my god dude. You seriously cannot be this dense."

A blank stare was his only response, causing Gerald to smack his forehead in frustration, "Porn, dude. I mean porn."

"Oh," he mumbled. It took a moment, but his eyes widened as Gerald's words processed in his head, "Oh! God, Gerald! You know I don't watch that..."

"Well, maybe you should try it. I'm sure watching a little bit of guy-on-guy action will help you figure out real quick if guys get your gears going," he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Arnold buried his face in his palm to cover the mortification that painted his face. He mumbled through his fingers, "Can you cool it with the wordplay? You're not making this much easier on me."

Gerald laughed, leaning against his locker. He patted the other teen on the back, "You know I'm messin' with you, dude. I promise I'll help you out with this little gay crisis - and any other trouble you've managed to get your thick head into- as best as I can, alright?"

Arnold nodded curtly, still feeling the sting of heat on his cheeks. The sound of the warning bell cut their conversation short. Begrudgingly, the two teens grabbed their bags and piled their books for their next class into them. As they padded down the hall, Arnold found himself unable to pry his gaze from the unevenly tiled floor. His mind wandered, mulling over all his worries. Should he really explain everything to Hugo the way Gerald said? Wouldn't that make things so much worse?

How could it get worse than this?

Before he could fully lose himself in his thoughts, he felt the force of someone's elbow pushing him to the side of the hall, pulling him from his stupor, "Move it, Football Head!"

Arnold's eyes shot open to watch a very angry Hugo stomp past him, his hands balled up in angry fists and a vicious scowl on his face. A proud monobrow furrowed in his direction let Arnold know exactly the extent of Hugo's resentment towards his cold-shouldered behavior. Arnold gulped, fearful in a way he hadn't been since middle school. He looked to Gerald with wide, questioning eyes.

Gerald shook his head, "Mm-mh! Arnold, my guy, you have got yourself in some deep shit."

"What am I supposed to do?" he groaned.

"I think I'd start with an apology," he paused, "and maybe some flowers."

Hugo was bundled up on his bed with a mass of blankets accompanied by a very content, black kitten when the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs disrupted his movie. He assumed it was just a package or something of the like, so he left his aunt to get the door. His attention was once again pulled away from the T.V. by the sound of chatter preceding the clunking of footsteps on the creaky floorboards of the stairs.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Hugo furrowed his brow, unsure of who could be here this late in the evening. His aunt didn't usually knock; she usually just yelled through the door until he yelled back the 'ok' to come in, so he knew it wasn't her. He unwrapped himself from his blanket, careful not to disturb his sleeping kitten.

"Just a sec," he called, clambering from his bed. Tentatively, he cracked the door to peek at his unexpected visitor. He felt his face pale when he saw that it was Arnold standing nervously outside of his room.

For a moment, all he could feel was what felt like static in his mind. He had spent a week trying to talk to the boy in front of him, worrying that he had ruined their friendship. His worry had bubbled into a seething anger he hadn't felt in quite some time, and he let it spill over on Arnold earlier that day. The static in his mind burned into that seething anger once again.

"What the fuck do you want?" he sneered.

Arnold looked to the floor, ashamed, "I wanted to talk to you."

Hugo pulled the door open to reveal himself fully. He shot daggers at the taller boy, speaking coldly, "You made it pretty clear this week we aren't on speaking terms."

"I- I know. I didn't mean for it to be that way. I just—"

"You just what, Arnold? Thought avoiding me all week after I saved your hide was a good way to say 'thank you?'" he barked, eyeing the other blonde up and down. He noted the teen held his hands behind his back, as if concealing something.

"Can I please just come in," he pleaded, "I just wanna explain. Please."

Hugo scowled deeper, raising his brow, "Why the hell should I?"

Bashfully, Arnold pulled his hidden hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers. He extended them to Hugo, not meeting his eyes, "Because I'm sorry."

Hugo couldn't help the amused huff that escaped his lips. Tentatively, he took the flowers from Arnold and moved away from the door frame, "Fine. Come in."

He stepped inside, following close behind the scrawny blonde. Hugo set the flowers down cautiously onto his dresser, still battling the amusement at the gesture. After a moment, he turned to look at the football-headed teen. Arnold could see the hurt and anger behind his eyes; his stomach lurched with guilt. Hugo plopped himself down onto his bed, pulling his kitten into his lap. The small creature purred and chirped in delight as Hugo petted him.

Arnold smiled softly at the scene in front of him before clearing his throat to speak. Before he could say anything, Hugo interrupted him, "I just don't understand, Arnold. I thought everything was okay. I thought we were on such good terms," he paused, not tearing his attention from the tiny, black kitten, "I know everything started kinda spotty when I got here. Your friend group kinda just sucked me in and then the Rhonda thing made it all weird, but I thought we were okay."

Hugo looked up at Arnold with watery eyes, the worry in his voice clear, "I just don't wanna fuck us up again."

Arnold stepped forward, jumping in to apologize, "No, no! You haven't, I promise, Hugo."

The smaller teen furrowed his brow, "Then what is it?"

The flaxen-haired boy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, "Gerald told me your secret, Hugo."

He felt his stomach sink and his hair stand on end. Eyes wide, he stared at Arnold with a face full of terror, "M-my secret?"

Arnold plopped down next to him on his bed, keeping a safe distance between them. He sighed, "About how you like-like me."

The fear on his face melted into mortification. While he was relieved Arnold hadn't been told the whole truth, he still made a mental note to castrate Gerald later. He cleared his throat, "He, uh, told you that, huh?"

Arnold nodded bashfully, his cheeks pink. Hugo paused for a moment, mulling over his thoughts, "So you haven't been talking to me this week because I like-like you and read a poem about it in front of the class?"

The football-headed teen sighed, "That's sort of it, but not really. There's more to it than that..."

"How do you mean?"

"This is new for me, ya know? It's different from having a girl be into me, or at least that's how my brain is processing it," he spoke quietly, not pulling his gaze from the other boy, "And to top it all off, you bear this...striking resemblance to Helga; the way you look and speak and laugh, your sense of sarcasm, your talent for poetry."

Hugo finally met his gaze, their eyes locking. Arnold felt his breath hitch in his throat, "Those blue eyes..."

He blushed violently, quickly looking away, "What I mean to say is... it's been weird for me lately. I've been having this crisis and I don't know what's going on with me."

Hugo couldn't help the bubbly laughter that escaped his lips. He could barely contain the giddiness he felt; he sputtered out his words between bouts of laughter, "So, I gave you a sexuality crisis? You've been increasingly avoiding me for two weeks because you can't decide if boys get you hard or not?"

Arnold frowned, his face scarlet red, "It's not funny!"

Hugo sighed deeply to slow his laughter, "It is, just a bit."

The football-headed boy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well. Even if it is a little funny, it's still been a lot for me."

"Trust me, I get that better than anyone," he put a gentle hand on Arnold's shoulder, "It took a lot for me to figure myself out. Years."

"Years? I don't think I want to take years to figure this all out," he groaned, "What all did you do to figure out you were gay?"

"I read a lot. Took a lot of those stupid online quizzes," he replied.

Arnold fell backward onto the bed in defeat, "I've already done all of that, and it's only made me more confused."

"The goal is to figure out if you're freaked because I look like your ex or if you've got a bit of a gay streak in you, right?"

Arnold buried his face in his hands, "I mean, yeah, you could put it that way."

Hugo plopped down on the bed next to him, looking over at him with a devious smile, "Then have you tried porn?"

"Oh, god. Not you too!" Arnold cried, "Gerald told me the same thing."

"Well, it's a valid idea. Sometimes the visual stimulation can bring about real clarity," Hugo teased.

Arnold smacked him lightly with the back of his hand, his voice full of embarrassed laughter, "Jesus, Hugo!"

The smaller teen turned over onto his stomach, propping his chin up with the palm of his hand. He smiled widely at the boy next to him, butterflies filling his chest. This was a much better development than he was expecting when Arnold showed up to his door. He made a mental note to thank Eda for letting him in.

The two spent a few hours lying in Hugo's bed chatting about his experience as a gay man amongst a myriad of other things. The time flew by much faster than he would have liked. It had been years since he'd spent time with Arnold like this. It had been years since Hugo had been this happy.

Eventually, Arnold left to go home, leaving Hugo to gush to himself alone in his room, just as he had when he was in elementary school.

"I can't believe it!" he picked his kitten up, twirling around his room in excitement, "He might like me! Hugo, not Helga!"

He stopped spinning, frowning to himself, "Or maybe it is Helga he likes?"

Setting the small cat down, he shook his head, "What the hell am I on about? I am Helga. Sorta."

He fell backward onto his bed, sighing deeply. A blissful smile adorned his face as he stared up at his ceiling. This was all going to work out with Arnold, he hoped. Once his beloved figured out his feelings, he'd finally be able to come clean about who he was. Now all he needed to do was figure out how to help his flaxen-haired friend.

A devious smile crept across his face. He had a few ideas already figured out.

Arnold's eyes begged him for sleep. They stung, but he couldn't get them to stay closed. As much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't- not as long as his curiosity kept him awake. He turned his gaze to the potato alarm clock beside him. It read "2:30 A.M."

He groaned.

The computer sitting on his desk across the room was practically pleading with him to ebb his rubbernecking tendencies. Since Gerald put the thought in his head, which was only reinforced by his conversation with the object of his troubles, it was almost all he could think about.

"I'll just close my eyes, fall asleep, and not think about it again," he muttered to himself. Arnold screwed his eyes shut tight. A moment passed. They flew open again to stare at the clock once more. A red "2:32" stared back at him.

"Goddamn it.."

He grabbed his stuffed pig and buried his face in it. His stillness only lasted a few moments before tossing the toy aside and slinging his legs over the edge of his bed. Begrudgingly, he plopped down at his desk chair and booted up the clunky computer. Its whirring sounds and static as it started up seemed a million times louder than it actually was, which only served to make Arnold's heart rattle harder against his ribcage. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, the home screen lit up his cluttered bedroom, blinding his already burning eyes for a moment.

Hesitantly, he opened his browser and held his fingers lightly over the keyboard, just as he had weeks before. His eyes darted around the room, even though he knew no one was bound to see him. He felt nerves flutter in his stomach as he chicken-pecked out his search, only mildly delaying the inevitable. He was only about three characters in before the search engines' autofill gave him what he wanted.

"Gay porn"

His mouse hovered over those two words for what seemed like an eternity. This felt so wrong. Maybe he should just try going to sleep again. Or, maybe, he could start his day early. He looked back to the clock again; "2:38." He could start it really early.

"God, this is so stupid," he grumbled, "I'm just gonna click this, watch a video, and realize I'm for sure just still in love with Helga and am grasping at straws."

With one click, his screen was filled with links- so, so many links. Arnold thought his eyes could pop out of his skull as he scrolled through the search results. Finally, he clicked one at random. The entirety of his screen was filled with an old video; it was grainy but still legible.

With wide eyes, he watched two skimpily-clad men appear on screen, one much smaller and thinner than the other. He felt a strange tightness in his chest as the two men began to kiss. His nails dug into his thighs as they undressed each other in front of him. He felt dirty; this felt wrong. Arnold wasn't used to this kind of voyeurism. It felt dirty; it felt good. His breath hitched in his throat as their clothes were fully removed, revealing what waited so eagerly underneath.

He watched with bated breath as they began to touch in ways he'd only ever imagined he would with a woman. Arnold studied the figures of the men, tracing their shapes with curious eyes. He found himself drawn to the smaller, blonde man. His slender figure, scruffy facial hair, and slightly rough demeanor made his face flush with heat like he had never felt before. He pulled his eyes from the top half of his torso to what lay much lower. He felt his boxers tighten as he watched, entranced. The screen flashed to the face of the man he found so intriguing. The scraggly blonde flashed a confident sneer, faced red and sweaty from the sex.

For a moment, he could have sworn he looked like Hugo.

With that thought, his face paled and he quickly closed the video. His heart pounded against his ribcage, threatening to burst from his chest. The ache between his legs gave no sign of dissipating soon. With a shaky hand, Arnold turned off the computer before slinking his way back to bed. He lay there, sheetless, letting the creaky ceiling fan cool the heat that bathed his body.

"This is going to be a very long night."

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I really appreciate all the kind comments and support I've been getting on this passion-project of mine. It really does mean the world to me. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed, give a little like, comment, and follow! 3