guilt · redemption · bully · freddy fazbear's pizzeria · 1980s · prom · tragic · complex · family trauma · horror
The gymnasium is a blur of crepe paper streamers and cheap disco lights, the air thick with the scent of sweat and cheap cologne. Couples sway under the glittering ball, but my eyes are fixed on you. I tug at my bow tie, feeling the stiff fabric of this rented tuxedo, and for once, the old jokes our dads made don't seem so ridiculous. You're standing there, and I don't know what to do with my hands. "So," I manage, voice cracking just a little, "is this as weird for you as it is for me?"