The night was young, as his dad said. Poet was all dressed for his night at the prom; a fine vault suit and a little bowtie wrapped around the collar of his neck. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled as he idly fumbled his bowtie. His dad stood behind him, he too smiled at his son. "You look good, kiddo. Though, you could do with a hair cut."
Poet didn't really respond, just shrugged. "I think it's alright." One of those dresses might be cooler though. "Did you and mom go to prom?"
His father's smile became heavy as he tried to hold onto it, and he looked more intently on Poets bowtie. "Ah... We didn't go to prom, but we danced."
"Why didn't you guys go?" He turned his head to James. "Well, I can't remember." The memories came along, and he felt a tinge of pain, but also the enjoyment of reminiscing the night the two danced in the lab in their lonesome, whilst the radio played some pretty tune. "But I remember... Your mother had the brightest smile that night, and she had a lovely laugh too."
Poet smiled back at his dad through the mirror. "That sounds like a nice night."
James gripped poets shoulders and affirmed that it was in a fatherly tone, chuckling before settling down to look at his son some more. "She would be so proud of the man you've become, kiddo. She would of loved you, I know it."
They moved away from the mirror, Poet was quite done looking at himself. And looking at his dad look at him. "Well hey, I gotta go to prom. I guess I'll hang out with Amata or something when I get there."
"Hold on son," the man sat down in a cushiony chair in the corner of his living room, the Grey's in his once purely chocolate brown hair shining off the light of his lit lamp. "Your eighteen, and you know... I might not be around forever."
Poet only gave him a weird look. "What, you might leave the vault someday?" He chuckled. "Come on dad, tonight's supposed to be fun."
"I know, I know," he sighed in response. "But I just... You're doing really good, and I don't think you need me anymore. You'd be fine without me."
Poet stepped away from the doorway, moving towards James. "Dad are you sick or something?" His eyes widened. "Please tell me your not sick!"
The older man shook his head. "No, kiddo. I'm just getting old and... Thinking too much." He smiled once more. "You go on and have fun at prom, alright?"I
Poet nodded, still looking worried. "Alright dad, but if your not here when I get back I'll be really mad." He half jokingly said before heading off.
James watched the doorway for awhile, drifting off in thought for a few minutes more before exiting as well.
James son had reached the doorway to the atrium, where the prom was being held. He could see different colors flicker through the window, and jazzy tunes muffled through its metal. He pressed the opening button and watched the door slide up, releasing the music and listening to it blast through. He stepped in and saw a few people dancing while most were standing around. The older folks that weren't just watching were forcing some of the kids to put some space between them when dancing.
"Poet!" He heard amidst the ocean of sounds. The boy looked away from the crowd and saw his friend Amata, who wore her hair up but differently this time, like one of those fancy women in magazines.
"Amata!" He greeted back, mouth agaped by the sight of her. "You look absolutely beautiful, my God!"
She giggled and wore the brightest smile on her face. "Thank you! I was worried the "barber" over there was gonna mess up my hair." When she said "over there" her thumb pointed to Butch Deloria, who sat by the wall with his two friends, his only gang members. They had their bowties as well, surprisingly. Even more so they weren't wearing their jackets. There is a dress code, but poet was just surprised they actually followed it.
"Well I guess Butch didn't want to mess up his reputation, being the vaults only hair stylist." The two laughed, mostly because it would make the local bully mad when people didn't call him a barber.
Poet glanced back over at Paul, who was looking back at him. The two stared at each other for awhile, some might say a long while, before the two looked away. Amata gave her friend a familiar annoyed look. "What?"
"Oh I don't know, just I can't believe he still hangs out with that jerk and his jerk friends." She said, folding her arms.
"Ooh he ain't that bad, Amata. He just acts that way around them. He's a good guy!"
"He wouldn't be around them if he was..." She huffed.
Poet sighed and shrugged. "Well, I think he's neat."
Amata nodded. "I know you do. It's blatantly clear you do." Poet only chuckled in response.
The two went to the catering table, and picked up their cups for a drink from the punch bowl. It tasted sweet, though also watered down a bit. Another figure entered his peripheral vision, he thought it was just someone else who wanted a drink too. It was Paul.
"Hey Paul." Poet managed to say, bearing a friendly smile. He was impressed with himself. Amata shook her head and patted her fine haired friend before she parted for awhile.
"Hey Poe." Paul said back, nervously though. Poet was also quite nervous. "How's prom going for you?"
"It's pretty okay," he answered. "I'm pretty okay feeling too. Haven't really done much but talk to Amata and drink punch."
Paul nodded, smiling a small smile while watching poet chuckle. His laugh was almost louder to him than everything else. It was dumb sounding but it was also nice hearing him chuckle, or laugh even. "You look- you look nice by the way." He struggled to say.
Poet smiled some more and giggled. "Thank you, Paulie. You look nice too." The two looked like they were comfortably dumbfounded by each other, their goofy smiling the only thing they could communicate. Poet wished he could do more, wished he could grab him, hug him. Its nice enough to talk to him at least, he thought
"Paul!" They heard someone shout, startling poet from his gazing. Paul turned around and they both saw Butch, who looked agitated at the two of them. "Why are you talking to that loser?"
"I was just trying to be nice to him, being prom and all." He responded, going back to his jerk personality. "Paul, your my best Bud but that's dumb."
"Hey Butch, you ever think about, I don't know, not being a dick?" Poet asked, Amata grabbed his arm and hissed at him.
Butch and his other gang member, Gomez, glared at him. The gang leader chuckled. "Ballsy aren't you? You ballsy enough to fight all of us?"
Pauls eyes darted back to Butch, eyes widened in response. "Uh Butch," he shuttered. "I don't want to get in trouble at prom. Could we not?"
For the moment, he contemplated Paul's words. He always thought of what his best friend had to say. Then he clapped his hands together. "Alright, pipsqueak! You're spared for tonight."
"Why thank you, Butchey!" Poet smirked awkwardly. The man sneered at him before his gang parted from him. Paul looked back at him, and the two shared looks till they couldn't anymore.
"Well how'd meeting up with "Paulie" go?" Amata asked, causing Poet to turn around. "Haa..." He responded half heartily. "It was good till Butch wanted to beat me up. Paul stopped him though." He smiled at that.
"Thats... Nice." Amata sighed and made herself another drink. "Here in a little while, you wanna dance or something?"
When she brought up dancing, he thought about what his dad told him. How he seemed so happy about that night he danced with the one person he wanted to dance with the most. "I do want to dance." He said. Amata held her hand out only to watch Poet walk towards Paul and his gang. If she could of screamed she would.
Butch was the first to spot him, and after him was Paul, who looked like he was panicking on the inside while Poet walked towards them.
"What is it pipsqueak? You asking us if we wanna dance?" Him and Gomez chuckled first, while Paul chuckled along hastily.
"No, just Paul." Poet said matter-of-factly.
The three gangsters looked at him. "Uh... Did you hear that, Paulie?"
"Yeah," Paul chuckled once more, more desperate to sound humored than panicked. "As if I'd dance with this dork."
Poet rolled his eyes. "Shut up Paul, yes you do." He said before grabbing Paul by the wrist. Gomez and Butch just watched in shock as their usual virbage dartboard dragged one of them off to the dance floor.
Coincidentally, one of those pretty slow dancing songs came on too!
He put Paul's dark hands on his hips, trying to copy the others, and placed his pale hands on the other boys shoulders. "Poe, you shouldn't of done that!" Paul hissed.
"And deny us this dance? Come on?"
"Well yeah, but-"
"Well we're already dancing in front of everyone. No point backing out now." Poet cooed. A smile formed on his face as he tried to look cute. Paul sighed, and had a relaxed enough to bear a smile. He did look cute.
Some people gawked at them, curious and whatever other reasons for doing so made a wave of emotions that, for tonight, couldn't break their moment. And Paul, for once, seemed to be on the same page as Poet.
Amata was watching as well, except she was the most happiest for her friend. Till she saw her dad marching towards them. When the man got close enough, Paul even tried to shudder away, but he didn't let go of his partners hips. "Alright boys, the jokes over. Break it up."
"Dad!" Amata called out. He looked back at his daughter before turning his authoritative gaze back on the boys. "I said break it up." Paul looked at Poet once more scaredly, where as he just rolled his eyes.
"They're dancing dad, leave them alone!" She tried to drag her father away, but he pulled away from her. "It's unacceptable." He responded to her.
"Shut up, Alph." Was Poets only response.
The overseer narrowed his eyes at him, and glared daggers into the back of the boys head. Others gasped, Butch actually had a sneaky snicker to himself, and Paul was just as surprised as everyone else. "Excuse me, young man?"
He turned briefly at the man and said "Your not the overseer tonight. Your just one of the "responsible" adults tonight an'nnnd we're just dancing." Then turned his head back to Paul, who looked so scared and excited too.
The overseer was frozen for but a moment, his face was agasped before a bitter and disgusted expression formed, his eyes daggers pointed to the two. His daughter dragged him away and everyone continued to dance, especially Poet and Paul.
"Holy shit, Poe!" He whispered. "I didn't think you'd talk down the oversee!"
"I didn't either!" Pauls eyes fluttered in surprise and then the two giggled like kids. For a while actually, and loudly too. Some people looked at them for a minute and the two just continued on. "God damn!" Poet exclaimed. " I don't even know where that came from!"
Paul chuckled a little longer before the two smiled at each other. Tonight's a good night, they both thought at the same time. And Poet was certain he had a good memory made.
The party was wrapping up and everyone left with quite the event. Paul and Poet hugged before the two split, and Amata walked with Poet to his room
"My dad's probably going to put you on some unpleasant duty tomorrow," she sighed. "He seemed really mad." He only shrugged and blew air out his nose. "It was worth it, honestly. Besides, I don't get what your dad was mad about. We were just dancing."
She shrugged as well. "Probably something in a rule book or vault ethics. Or just being old."
They parted ways once Poet was home. He opened the door and saw the lamp by his father's reading chair was still on from earlier. James probably just got too tired and forgot to turn it off, at least thats what he thought. That old sleepy head. He twisted the switch for the light and turned it off, the room was absolutely dark besides a few electronic gadgets with faint glows.
He went to his bedroom, ignoring his dad's empty room and fell into bed, a sleepiness took over once he felt his soft bed. He roughly fought his suit off, kicking it on the floor once he won.
When he lied down on his back, he smiled as thoughts of Paul and him giggling and dancing, drifting off to sleep he just played the memory over and over.