‘How does this look?’ Luhan asks, stepping out of the changing room. He’s dressed in a pinstripe suit, which slumps sloppily over his shoulders. 

‘Bad,’ Jongin admits, ‘You look about two seconds from being swallowed whole by that jacket.’ 

Luhan groans, ‘I’ve tried like a gazillion suits already! The only reason why I asked you to accompany me is because I thought you would be more cooperative than my mother.’ 

‘Hyung,’ Jongin says, pushing the older boy back into the changing room, ‘You’ve tried two suits on. Try the next one.’ 

Luhan grumbles but complies anyway, locking the changing room door shut. 

‘So… Who are you taking to the dance?’ Jongin asks, fiddling with the loose threads on the end of his shirt. 

‘What? You mean my date?’ Luhan shouts back, voice muffled through the door. 

‘I mean– Like, yeah,’ Jongin stutters, trying to keep his voice even. Why am I so damn curious anyway? Jongin thinks, berating himself for being so worked up about it.  It wasn’t like it mattered… Right?

In truth, it was all Jongin could think about lately, and it took nearly all of his will power to hold himself back from straight up interrogating the older boy for being so damn vague about it. 

With the dance only a couple of days away now, Jongin had started to get antsy, especially since Luhan never made mention of bringing a date to his high school graduation prom.

‘Don’t you have to– I don’t know,’ Jongin stammers, punching himself in the face mentally, ‘Coordinate your outfit with your date?’ 

Honestly, Jongin hadn’t put it past Luhan to show up in a regular pair of jeans and an embarrassing old sweater, date or no. School functions just never really meant much to either of them, anyway. I mean, we spent this year’s pep rally at McDonald’s, Jongin cringes at the memory. We don’t even like McDonald’s. 

Jongin had been rudely awakened that morning when his phone’s ring went off. Although his mind was still hazy from sleep, he caught the gist of Luhan’s request between outcries of disappointment, ‘How was I supposed to know there was a dresscode?’ and ‘They won’t even let you access the buffet table if you aren’t dressed up all fancy!’ This is how Jongin ends up spending his precious Saturday morning in a tuxedo rental store with a disgruntled Luhan. 

Before Jongin receives an answer, Luhan tumbles out from the changing room. He stands upright, dusting off invisible specks of dust from the sleeves of his suit. Firstly– Whoa. Nice. 

Jongin takes his time to appreciate how the collar grazes his neck, white dress shirt cascading down his chest, immaculate blazer hugging his shoulders, freshly pressed trousers straight and sleek. Lastly, Jongin’s eyes graze over Luhan’s dirty red sneakers, but he chooses to ignore that. 

Luhan tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, posing dramatically for Jongin. He opens his mouth to speak, but Jongin interjects, ‘If you make a bad James Bond joke, I’m going to punch you.’ 

Luhan’s mouth snaps shut. 

‘Hyung, you have to choose this one,’ Jongin insists, hands automatically reaching out to fix Luhan’s crooked tie. Even though I won’t get to see it on you again, he thinks, feeling a pang of jealousy. 

‘Alright, whatever you say,’ Luhan singsongs, ‘By the way, I don’t have a plus one.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘I don’t have a plus one,’ Luhan repeats, ‘Oh! Hey, Jongin, wanna come with?’

Jongin does a double take, panicking. His mind is reeling with questions: Is he asking me out? Don’t people usually only ask people they like to prom? 

Luhan misinterprets Jongin’s distressed silence as hesistation, and kneels down on one knee theatrically, holding Jongin’s hand in his. ‘Come with me! It’ll be fun, I promise!’ He pleads. 

Jongin recoils from the touch, jerking his hand back and fumbling for words, ‘Uh– Yeah, I mean, I think I’m free…?’ Way to go, Kim Jongin. How smooth. 

Luhan springs up from the ground, elated, ‘Great! It’s decided. I’ll pick you up at seven.’ And Jongin can’t help but blush at that, because ew it sounds like a date. 

--- 

Prom night goes a little like this. 

They raid the buffet table, spill the punch, and then there’s the dancing. 

Jongin is a bundle of nerves the whole night, all sweaty palms and faltering words, but when he sees Luhan dance, oh God. 

The younger boy chooses to prioritize his own safety, picking a spot out of harm’s way – which so happens to be beside the punch bowl – berating himself for having any kind of connection to Luhan, because why do I associate myself with someone who poses as a risk to everything and everyone within a five meter radius when he dances?

Luhan is in the centre of the hall, limbs flinging in all directions, passionately dancing to the latest pop songs blaring from the speakers. Jongin has to refill his red disposable cup every five minutes just to avoid looking suspicious for standing by the end of the buffet table for so long. Hopefully the other students think he just really likes the punch or something. But Luhan looks so ridiculous that Jongin can’t help but break into a smile as he watches the older boy have the time of his life.

Jongin finds himself thinking about Luhan graduating and moving on to college. He feels a wave of dread come over him, but manages to suppress it. He’ll mull over it some other night. Just not tonight. 

‘Jongin!’ Luhan calls out, ‘Dance with me!’ 

What the hell, Jongin decides, throwing his cup into the trash. I’m gonna miss this dork way too much when he leaves. Jongin ignores the past experiences with social anxiety resounding like alarms in his head, and stalks onto the dance floor to join the older boy. 

Their choreography includes stepping on too many shoes and even kicking a few shins, but at least everyone makes it out alive by the end of the night. 

As the dance draws to a close, a few student volunteers hold up a camera and offer to take a photo of them as a keepsake. They decide why not, naturally slinging their arms over one another, faces wreathed in the happiest smiles.