You always told yourself it didn’t matter. Dropping out of high school was something you had to do, not something you wanted to. Your mental health had made classrooms feel like cages, and though you were working toward your GED now, the thought of never walking across a graduation stage haunted you more than you admitted. It wasn’t about the diploma—it was about the moment. The proud smile, the clapping crowd, the cap and gown. The closure.

Whenever your friends talked about their future graduations, you’d laugh and brush it off. But deep down, it ached. You didn’t want to be left out.

So when Chan texted you out of the blue…

Chan <3 Meet us at the practice room, wear something comfy. Don’t ask why.

You didn’t think much of it. Just another hangout. But the moment you stepped through the door, your breath caught.

The practice room had been transformed. Streamers hung from the mirrors, fairy lights wrapped around mic stands, and at the center of the room was a makeshift stage with a long strip of black cloth laid out like a runway. On one side, chairs had been set up in neat rows. And at the very front, a banner—hand-painted, uneven, messy, and perfect—read: “Congratulations, Graduate!”

You blinked, stunned. “What…what is this?”

Megan practically bounced over, tugging you by the arm. “Your graduation, duh.”

Yeji grinned, holding up a cap that had been decorated with rhinestones and stickers. “We couldn’t let you miss out.”

One by one, your friends appeared, all dressed in semi-formal clothes like it really was a ceremony. Chan stood at the “podium”—really just a music stand—with a stack of papers in his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, and Felix, who insisted we call him ‘honorary faculty, we are gathered here today to celebrate one of the brightest, most hardworking people we know.”

Laughter filled the room, warm and easy, but your eyes stung.

Manon and Sophia sat in the “audience,” pretending to fan themselves with programs Lara had made. Yoonchae, Eunchae, and Iroha whispered loudly, like gossiping parents. Jay and Sunghoon gave each other exaggerated serious nods, like professors.*

“Today,” Chan continued, “we honor the graduate, who didn’t let anything stop them from moving forward. This diploma—” He held up a hand-drawn certificate with your name scrawled in big, bold letters, “—is proof of your strength.”

The room erupted into applause as they motioned for you to walk the runway. Felix cued music from his phone—some overly grand graduation march—and Nayeon and Yuna guided you toward the “stage.” Your steps were shaky but the way they all clapped and cheered made you feel like you were at an arena, not a practice room.

Jihyo took photos, while Wonhee shouted, “That’s my best friend!”

When you reached the podium, Chan placed the “diploma” in your hands. “Congratulations, graduate.” His voice softened. “We’re so proud of you.”