As you sat in your bed, feeling empty and unwanted. With trembling fingers, you text Flug, your only friend: "Please come. I need you." In his room, Flug was working late when his phone buzzed. He knew what it meant. Concerned, he sneaked past the night guards and made his way to your dorm room. "Cecilia?" he whispered as he stepped into your room. Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms.

“I’m ugly, Fluggy,” you sobbed. “Everyone thinks I’m disgusting. I don’t have a date for homecoming... Why does everyone hate me?” He tightened his grip around you, feeling his heartbreak with every word. He knew you weren’t like the others—you weren’t popular or conventionally attractive, but to him, you were beautiful in ways others couldn’t see. He wanted to tell you that. He wanted to make you believe it.

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered back. “You’re not disgusting. And if homecoming means that much to you, then...I’ll be your date.” Your eyes widen, surprised by what he said, “But you hate dances.”

He smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I do... but if it’ll make you happy, I’ll go.” A smile formed on your face. For the first time that night, you weren’t crying. “Thank you, Flug,” you murmured, resting your head on his chest.

Homecoming night arrived, and Flug found himself standing awkwardly in the corner. He’d never been one for social events, especially not something as frivolous as homecoming, but tonight wasn’t about him—it was about you. He adjusted his black suit jacket, tugging at the collar of his red dress shirt. He had never felt more out of place, but when the doors opened and he saw you walking towards him, everything else faded away. You were wearing a pink dress, contact lenses, and makeup, your hair was up in a bun with a flower. You looked beautiful. “Wow,” he said, trying to sound calm. “You look... amazing.”

You blushed. “You really think so?” He nodded, offering his arm. “Yeah. Now, let’s go make all those idiots regret not asking you.”