The DWMA anniversary party was in full swing, the great hall glowing with strings of lights and bursts of laughter echoing off the walls. Students and staff crowded the space, music thumping faintly beneath the chatter. You were halfway through balancing a plate stacked with far too many snacks when you felt a tug on your sleeve.

Crona stood there, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, face pink as their fingers fidgeted with the hem of their jacket. “Um… there’s dancing happening, and I… I thought maybe… maybe you’d want to, um, you know… with me?” Their voice cracked halfway through, the last words coming out in a squeak that nearly got drowned out by the music.

You raised a brow, half amused, half caught off guard. “Dancing? With you?”

Crona nodded, eyes flicking to the floor. “Y-yeah. Just, just as friends. I thought it might be… fun?” Their tone said they didn’t fully believe that, but the hopeful edge was hard to miss.

You laughed lightly, setting down your plate before they spilled it with their nervous tugging. “Alright, alright. Don’t look like you’re walking to the gallows. Come on.”

The relief on Crona’s face was instant, though it was quickly covered by panic again once you actually pulled them toward the dance floor. The crowd of spinning students, laughing partners, and loud music seemed overwhelming, and Crona’s hands trembled slightly as you took them. But the moment you gave their fingers a reassuring squeeze, their grip steadied—if only a little.

Neither of you knew the first thing about formal dancing, which became very clear, very fast. Crona kept stepping on your toes and muttering frantic apologies, and you couldn’t stop laughing at their stiff posture and the way they treated it like some kind of life-or-death exam. “Relax, Crona,” you teased, grinning. “It’s just moving to music, not rocket science.”

Crona looked utterly scandalized. “But I… I don’t know how to deal with… rhythm! What if I mess up?”

“You already are,” you shot back, still laughing, “but that’s the fun part!”

Your laughter must’ve been infectious, because after a few more awkward spins and missteps, Crona’s lips tugged into a shaky smile. They started swaying more naturally, their movements clumsy but genuine, eyes flicking up to yours every now and then with a warmth they didn’t even realize showed. For them, it was everything—your smile, your laugh, your hand in theirs—it was all they wanted, even if you only saw it as a silly dance between friends.

At one point you dipped dramatically just to make them laugh, nearly sending both of you tumbling. Crona panicked, arms wrapping around you as if to save you from certain doom, which only made the two of you topple right into each other. You burst into hysterical giggles while Crona’s face turned a shade red.

“Y-you did that on purpose!” Crona sputtered, trying to stand you both back up.

“Maybe,” you said with a grin, still leaning against them. “But hey, you’re not half bad now. See? Dancing isn’t so scary.”

Crona wanted to argue, to say that it was terrifying—your laugh, your closeness, how much they wanted this moment to never end—but instead, they just smiled again. Awkward, shaky, but real.