It was finally time for what most high school students liked to call the highlight of their teenage lives.
Well…most of them, anyway.
For some, it was nothing more than an overpriced event designed to make students spend ridiculous amounts of money on clothes they would only wear once before shoving them into the darkest corner of their closets or returning them to the rental store.
For others, it was practically a holiday to an extent.
It was just one night but that was all it took for the school gymnasium to transform into something almost unrecognizable.
Gone were the squeaky basketball shoes, half-hearted morning assemblies, and painfully boring lectures that made students question every life decision that led them there. In their place were fancy spotlights shining down from the railings, elaborate decorations that tried very hard to scream elegance, and slow music that promised either magical, movie -level confessions or deeply awkward dancing.
And most importantly, there were no uniforms.
No stiff blazers.
No wrinkled ties.
No skirts measured by strict school rules.
Just dresses that glittered beneath warm lights and suits tailored enough to make boys suddenly think fixing their hair once or twice would mold their attitude into gentlemen.
I’m talking about prom of course!
Which explained why Minju currently looked like she wanted to try each and every excuse to not go.
“This is stupid.”
Her friend groaned for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening.
“You’ve said that twelve times already,” Yunah said from across the room.
“Because it remains true all twelve times.”
Minju stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dress shop, aggressively adjusting the fabric of her dress like she could somehow bully it into becoming less embarrassing.
“This feels weird.”
“Did you suddenly develop an allergy towards dresses?”
“I might have at this point.”
Yunah snorted from her seat near the fitting room platform, one leg crossed over the other as she watched Minju spiral in real time.
The shop was far too bright for Minju’s liking.
Every employee looked far too excited and every rack around her hung dresses that looked like they belonged to people significantly more confident than she was.
The dress she wore was simple compared to the others she had been bribed into trying on.
And by that, she meant Yunah had to bribe her with a week’s worth of free lunches and the promise that she would use her position in the media club to hide the unflattering prom photos before they were posted online.
Minju had accepted far quicker than she cared to admit.
The dress she currently wore was teal.
It hugged her waist before falling softly down her legs, the fabric smooth and tiny silver details lined the straps.
“Do I really have to go?” Minju asked.
Yunah had already stood up from her seat, already pushing through hangers of dresses.
“Yes,” she answered immediately.
Minju frowned at her reflection.
“It sounds boring anyways. You just stand around while the loud music blasts into your ears and eat food no better than what the cafeteria serves.”
“Don't be like that,” Yunah replied as she pushed another hanger back. “You already submitted your attendance sheet plus (YN) is going to be there.”
Minju nearly tripped over absolutely nothing.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Her head snapped toward Yunah so fast it almost broke off her head.
Yunah slowly turned to look at her then smiled.
Minju immediately knew she had fallen into a trap she should've seen a mile away.
“I don't know, I just thought that it would motivate you just a tiny bit.”
Minju stared at her.
“…No,” she said flatly.
Yunah blinked. “No?”
“No, it doesn't motivate me knowing he will be there.”
“Don't be so rash, don't you want to see what he looks like in a tux?”
Minju opened her mouth and raised to point a finger at her yet nothing came out.
And that alone told Yunah everything she needed to know.
A grin spread across her face with the speed of someone who had just caught her friend in denial.
“Oh my god,” Yunah gasped dramatically. “You do want to know.”
“I do not.”
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