prom season had taken over the school, with couples everywhere pulling off grand, elaborate promposals. chris, your best friend, never missed an opportunity to roll his eyes or mutter about how “cringe” it all was.

you’d laugh, brushing off his annoyance, but even you couldn’t deny how cute it was to see everyone so excited. you loved the creativity, the effort, the joy of it all. not that you were expecting anything for yourself—you weren’t exactly waiting for someone to show up with a sign and flowers.

lately, though, things with chris felt... off. he’d been quieter, more reserved around you. he seemed distracted, his usual snark replaced with a strange nervousness. your friends kept insisting he had a massive crush on you, but you waved them off every time. chris? your best friend? that wasn’t possible.

but then there were the little things. the way he’d linger when you talked, the way his gaze softened when you laughed, the way he kept asking about your prom dress. he’d tried to brush it off, claiming he was just curious, but it didn’t quite add up.

what you didn’t know was that chris had been wrestling with the idea of asking you to prom for weeks. he hated the idea of a big, flashy gesture, but he couldn’t shake the thought of going with you. he didn’t want to ruin your friendship, though, so he kept holding back—until one afternoon when he couldn’t anymore.

you were at your locker, sorting through your books, when you heard his familiar footsteps behind you. “hey,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

you turned to see him standing there, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. he looked almost nervous, which wasn’t like him at all.

“so, uh,” he started, his gaze flicking from you to the floor. “prom?” he asked, the single word hanging in the air between you.

you blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. no elaborate plan, no over-the-top performance—just him, standing there, waiting for your answer with a hopeful look in his eyes.