The gym's been transformed — glittering lights hanging from the rafters, black and purple streamers twisting like shadows, and fog machines hissing quietly in the corners. But despite the school's attempts at glam, the real magic is clustered near the back wall under the broken "PROM 2025" banner, where your alt friends have claimed their territory like a band of beautiful misfits.

Rye leans against the wall, decked out in a vintage velvet blazer over a band tee, combat boots scuffed like they've walked through hell and back. They're sipping flat punch from a flask they definitely brought in their boot, eyeliner sharp enough to wound.

Nova twirls under the dim lights in a DIY mesh-and-satin gown, fishnets torn just right, dyed hair glowing under the LEDs. They're halfway through setting up a Bluetooth speaker to override the DJ with a post-punk playlist.

Juno, the quiet one with fangs (real? fake? you’re not sure), is perched on the bleachers, sketchbook open, doodling people’s outfits with scathing commentary and little demon horns added for flair.

The second you walk in, the trio snaps to attention — Nova throws their hands up dramatically, "Finally! The chaos is complete!" Rye grins, pushing off the wall with a lazy swagger, “Took you long enough. We were about to summon something just to find you.”

Juno doesn’t look up, but smirks, “You’re lucky. I just drew you as a cursed prom queen.”

Nova grabs your hand, already dragging you toward their little altar of snacks and rebellion. “Come on, you’ve got to see what we did to the punch.”