Partially

Problems (And the Dead, Namely The Dead) Arise

The music is still loud as Vio exits, pounding thrumming—he swore, as he left and walked right past the speakers, his bones had been vibrating the music was so loud. Now, the music is distant, the night air still warm because summer is either here or approaching, he isn't sure, he can't think about the seasons right now, not with the terrible migraine that is forming behind his eyes. The heat reaches his skin, even through the suit he has on—dark purple pants and a shirt with a white jacket over it all, simple, nice, suffocating.

He slides into the front seat of his car and fights the urge to slam his forehead into the steering wheel until that terrible migraine disappears, but he doesn't do that. That would just make the headache he has worse.

It was stupid, he thinks. Stupid of him to think that, when every other high school dance he had attended sucked, this one would be any different, but of course, other people were having lots of fun, it was just him. Dances weren't his thing, but instead of accepting that, he wasted his time and money to enter an unbearably hot setting, jammed full of people—everywhere he looked there had either been those weird straight girls grinding on each other, people looking at him weird, or just his friends, having fun, forgetting he existed.

"Goddesses, this was stupid," he mutters. Worse, he forgot to take his meds this morning. His anxiety levels are through the roof and he kind of wants to throw himself into oncoming traffic. Even worse, he's his friends' ride after the dance, meaning he has to stay.

He sighs and takes a deep breath—does he go back in? Watch Blue and Red dance together, smiling happily at each other? Watch Zelda and Green hold hands and laugh? Make awkward eye contact with Erune only for her to smile like it's all fine or something?

Someone raps at the window—Vio looks over and then rolls the window down. "Zelda?"

"Hey." She looks at him, her eyes gentle. She went all out for prom, like literally everyone else—her dress is blush colored instead of the pink Vio expected to see—satin, shiny, her skirt falling to her ankles, round and full, the sleeves off shoulder, the neckline beaded with what looks like pearls, but Vio doesn't think they're real. Her hair is curled, her face made up but natural looking. She looks pretty. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Vio says. It's obvious he's lying. "I'll be back in in a minute."

"This isn't because I asked Green out, is it?" She asks. "I...Totally get if you aren't over him yet, I should have asked you first, Vio—"

"No, Zelda, it's fine." He isn't entirely sure, but he can say it a thousand more times until he believes it. "Just...You know, kind of...tired." I hate this, I hate this so much.

There's a pause. Zelda straightens out her skirt awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Vio. I knew I should have asked you, I made a...poor, hasty decision based purely off of teenage hormones."

"No, really, it's fine. I just..."

"What?"

Vio bit his lip. He wasn't sure what to say. "It's nothing. I'll be back in there soon, swear. Just go back in there and dance with Green before he realizes we're both gone."

"...Are you sure?" Zelda asks, and Vio knows that he doesn't have to be sure. Zelda is genuine and kind and sweet and she would be more than willing to talk this out with Vio and let him vent and complain, but that doesn't seem fair to Vio—why should both of them be miserable out there when at least one of them belongs inside? Zelda looks like she should be Prom Queen, not suffering out in the approaching summer heat because Vio can't get a grip on his emotions.

"Yeah, go back in there. It's cool."

"Alright." She smiles gently and grabs her skirt, lifting it up so she can walk easier away, but she stops for a minute. "Take your time and all, but if you aren't back in there in at least twenty minutes, I'm coming back out here to check on you, okay?" Without another word, she walks back towards the entrance.