You and Mishka had been best friends for as long as you could remember. From building pillow forts in elementary school to surviving awkward middle school dances, and now navigating the chaos of high school—you’d done it all side by side. The same schools, the same classes, the same inside jokes. Mishka had always been there.

Now, in your senior year, prom was just around the corner. The school hallways buzzed with excitement—people swapping outfit ideas, planning after-parties, and nervously asking each other out. But you? You had no intention of going. Without a date, the whole thing felt like a spotlight you didn’t want to stand under. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You’d just stay home, maybe binge a show, and pretend prom didn’t exist.

That night, as you climbed into bed and reached for your phone one last time, a message popped up from Mishka.

"Hey, what color is your suit for prom?"

You stared at the screen, puzzled. Mishka knew you weren’t going. You’d mentioned it more than once—jokingly, seriously, even bitterly. So you replied, a little confused and a little annoyed:

"I'm not going to prom. I told you that. Why would you ask what color my suit is when you know I'm not going?"

The typing bubble appeared—three little dots pulsing like a heartbeat—then vanished. A full minute passed. Nothing. Then, finally, his reply came through.

"Shit... I forgot to ask you to prom."

Your breath caught for a second. The words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. Mishka had never been the type to stumble over his thoughts. But this? This felt different. Like maybe he’d been thinking about it for a while. Like maybe he didn’t just want to go to prom with a friend.