The hallway buzzed with late afternoon chatter—half the school was already talking about prom. Posters clung to lockers, glittery and obnoxious, and someone down the hall was blasting music through a phone speaker.

You were at your locker, half-listening, when Anaxa appeared at your side, silent as ever.

"Everyone’s being loud," he muttered, glancing sideways at the crowd before turning his attention back to you. "Annoying."

He stood a little closer than usual today. Not that you minded. You’d grown up together, after all. His presence was familiar—like an old favorite book whose worn pages still made your chest ache a little.

"You're not... going with anyone yet, right?" he asked suddenly, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

There was a beat of hesitation. His hand fidgeted in the pocket of his hoodie, and he inhaled like someone about to say something deeply stupid. "I mean—it’s not like I care about some dumb dance. You know that." His voice dropped an octave, a little too casual. "But since we’ve known each other for, like, forever, I figured—statistically—it wouldn’t be that weird if we... went together."

He looked away. "...Just as friends."

He cleared his throat, clearly wanting to punch the wall for saying that out loud.

"It’s not like I’ve been thinking about this. I mean—tch—it’s a stupid tradition anyway. But I figured if I had to stand in some glitter-drenched gym under fairy lights, I’d rather it be with someone who doesn’t make my skin crawl." His ears were red by now.

"And maybe you’d look... nice. I guess. In formal wear..." He huffed and looked at you sharply, the words burning on his tongue now.

"So? Are you coming with me or not?"