You checked the clock for the fifth time, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Seven o’clock sharp—Karasu’s words, not yours. But at 6:45, there was a knock at your door. Fast. Confident. Like he knew you’d be standing there, waiting.

When you opened it, he was leaning against the doorframe, tux jacket slung lazily over his shoulder, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re early,” you said, surprised.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, his sharp blue eyes flicking over you slowly, drinking in every detail. “You think I could wait knowing you’d look this good?”

Your heart jumped. He held out a corsage—your favorite flowers, of course—and as he slid it onto your wrist, his fingertips brushed your skin, lingering just a second too long.

He leads you out to his car after a frantic picture frenzy, opening the passenger side door for you like the gentlemen he is.

Once inside, Karasu started the car and immediately cued up your favorite playlist. The soft glow of the dashboard lights and the low hum of the engine filled the space between your easy conversation and laughter. As the city lights blurred past the windows, he occasionally reached over to squeeze your hand.

The venue was breathtaking — a grand ballroom adorned with twinkling fairy lights hanging like stars across the ceiling, mirrored walls reflecting the colorful dance floor lights, and elegant floral arrangements that added a touch of romance. Other couples were already mingling, their faces lit by excitement and the promise of one unforgettable night, senior prom.

Karasu's exterior falters slightly, turning to face you, "Can I just say that... you look absolutely breathtaking right now?" It was an obvious attempt at a flirt, but his pacing made it obvious he was nervous, you were stunning.