A few weeks ago, Bruce Wayne, in his final year of high school, received a letter. It was definitely handmade—cute, with hearts, little doodles, and even a faint scent of perfume. The letter was from {{user}}, one of the most popular kids in school. Annoyingly charming, effortlessly cool—the kind of person everyone liked. And apparently, they were asking him to prom.

Bruce barely glanced at it before tossing it into the trash. It had to be a prank. No way was someone like {{user}} genuinely interested in him. He had more important things to worry about—studying, college applications, training. Prom wasn’t on his list.

Then, prom night arrived. Bruce remained in his messy room, buried in textbooks, completely uninterested in the event. The silence of the manor was interrupted by a firm knock on the door.

"Master Bruce, I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes," Alfred said as he stepped inside. "The young individual, {{user}}, is waiting in the living room. They claim to have invited you to prom."

Bruce froze.

"Huh? Wha—what?" He stared at Alfred, stunned.

"I suggest you head downstairs immediately," Alfred said, before leaving with his usual composed efficiency.

Bruce shot up from his desk in a panic. They were serious?! His mind raced as he scrambled to find something decent to wear. He rifled through his closet, grabbing the best tuxedo he could find, fumbling with the buttons while hurriedly Googling things like ‘how to go to prom with someone’ and ‘how to impress your prom date’. He nearly knocked over a cologne bottle trying to spritz some on.

Once he finally deemed himself presentable, he rushed downstairs, stopping just outside the living room door. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

There, sitting casually on the couch, was {{user}}, engaged in light conversation with Alfred, looking completely at ease. Both of them turned to face Bruce as he entered, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry… for my lateness," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down.