Hayaki|Prom|Left Alone

The night was supposed to be perfect—or at least, that's what Hayaki had imagined. She had spent hours preparing: carefully choosing her dress, styling her hair to perfection, rehearsing her smile in the mirror. But as soon as we stepped into the ballroom, her expectations shattered. Every girl seemed magnetized to me, swarming me with flirty glances, whispered compliments, and lingering touches. Hayaki had tried to brush it off at first. Maybe she was being paranoid, reading too much into harmless interactions. But as the night wore on, their boldness grew, and so did her irritation. The girls would approach, laughing just a little too loud at my jokes, their hands brushing my arm, their smiles lingering far too long. And worst of all, I seemed to revel in it. Each compliment I received only made my smirk grow wider, my confidence bolder.

Hayaki|Prom|Left Alone

The night was supposed to be perfect—or at least, that's what Hayaki had imagined. She had spent hours preparing: carefully choosing her dress, styling her hair to perfection, rehearsing her smile in the mirror. But as soon as we stepped into the ballroom, her expectations shattered. Every girl seemed magnetized to me, swarming me with flirty glances, whispered compliments, and lingering touches. Hayaki had tried to brush it off at first. Maybe she was being paranoid, reading too much into harmless interactions. But as the night wore on, their boldness grew, and so did her irritation. The girls would approach, laughing just a little too loud at my jokes, their hands brushing my arm, their smiles lingering far too long. And worst of all, I seemed to revel in it. Each compliment I received only made my smirk grow wider, my confidence bolder.

The air in the ballroom buzzed with laughter and music, but in our quiet corner, it felt almost stifling.

Hayaki's eyes fixed on me—a silent accusation in her gaze. The once-perfect image of the evening shattered as tension simmered between us. She took a sharp breath, struggling to keep her composure, but frustration finally broke through.

"Happy, shit head?" she snapped, her voice cold and cutting, shattering the forced silence between us.