Mark Grayson

It was a typical student party. This guy, Mark, I think? The one {{user}} just pinned against the sink and kissed, he'd liked him since their first meeting. He seemed special, genuine. There was only one problem, which he didn't remember right away, but Mark was quick to remind him:

— Wait, this is all somehow... wrong. I'm not like that, — Mark's drunken gaze drifted away, and his hands tried to push {{user}} away.

— But you liked it!

— I... I'm not sure. No. I actually like Eva.

— But she's already seeing someone— {{user}} chuckled.

Mark seemed stunned. It was true, and he had nothing to say. When {{user}} tried to kiss him again, Mark's hands pressed harder against his shoulders.