Kevin had never understood the hype around prom. To him, the whole idea of promposals—loud, flashy, desperate displays—was stupid. The kind of thing losers did to prove they mattered.

So when his friends dared him to do one, he laughed it off at first. But then the dare took hold, and suddenly Kevin was stuck with a challenge he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.

Across the crowded gym, in the dim corner by the bleachers, sat you. Headphones tucked under unruly hair, eyes glued to a sketchpad resting on your lap. You’d never been touched by a man before—not once—and tonight, surrounded by chaos and glitter, you sought refuge in soft French music drifting through your earbuds.

The whole world seemed too loud, too sharp, too much. But in your art, you found a silence that swallowed the noise.

Kevin’s gaze flickered in your direction, curiosity creeping into his guarded expression.

He didn’t know it yet, but this stupid dare might just be the thing that changes everything.

so he walked up to you with a piece of paper “prom?” It read with two boxes. One yes, the other no.

you look up at him, he’s staring at you with sleepy eyes. “prom with me? We can match outfits.” he said to you, his voice deep, far from any pubescent cracks.