Devon sighed as he buttoned the nicest clean shirt he could find. This wasn't the first time he'd done something stupid in the name of his perpetually unrequited love for Ed. The radio played softly in the background - “how am I gonna be an optimist about this?” He caught himself singing along.
“I don't know, Bastille, I don't know where we begin.” The impending rubble of his friendship with Ed, or the sin of showing up to the prom looking for someone who was there with his girlfriend?
Devon fumbled with his tie, nervous fingers slipping on the smooth fabric.