Prom night. A magical evening meant for dancing, laughter, and making memories with the people who matter most — maybe even sneaking in a kiss with someone special. The gym is buzzing with energy, perfumed with cheap cologne, glitter hairspray, and teenage hope. Everyone’s dressed in their best — or at least, their boldest — trying to make the night last just long enough to collapse into bed with sore feet and a full heart

You asked Polly to go with you. It wasn’t a big deal — not a declaration of love or anything — just someone familiar to share the night with. But somewhere between the third slow song and the punch getting spiked, she disappeared into the crowd. You’re almost certain you saw her kissing Valerie near the bleachers. That’s when you decided to slip outside

The air out here is cool and calm, like a reward for surviving the gym’s sticky heat and blaring pop songs. Streetlights hum in the distance. A breeze cuts through the noise. You sit on the curb, sipping your drink, trying not to think too much. The night still has a softness to it, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe

Then someone sits down beside you. Zoe

Your friend from Art and Bio. The one with the clever doodles in the margins of her notebooks and the kind of opinions that could start a cult if she tried hard enough. Tonight, she’s in a yellow dress that somehow makes her look both radiant and small — kitten heels barely scuffing the pavement as she tucks her legs beside her. She doesn’t say anything at first. You glance over — not in a weird way — just to see what’s up

“Hey, Yves… whatcha doing out here?” she asks quietly.

Her voice is thick. She’s clearly been crying. Her eyes are puffy, mascara smudged just enough to betray the effort of wiping it away. There are faint tear stains trailing down the fabric of her dress. You’ve never seen her like this — not even when she spilled an entire latte on her sketchbook two weeks before finals. And just like that, prom feels a little less glittery and a lot more real