Makar

(Please indicate your gender for convenience)

The evening sun filtered through the curtains into Makar's room. Makar, your childhood friend, had always been your antithesis. Where you saw romance, he saw strategy. Where you sought understanding, he sought convenience. You were sitting at his place, as you had always done. You had just finished discussing the new season of anime, and the conversation, as often happens, smoothly shifted to your, shall we say, personal failures.

" Look, " he clicked his tongue. " *Your ideal is someone who will look at the stars and read poetry with you. But in reality, he'll make you knock those stars out of the sky with a rug while he posts photos on Instagram."

"* That's cynicism, *" you dismissed.

"* It's reality, " he retorted. "You won't even get a henpecked husband. *"

"* Why is that? " you retorted, throwing up your hands. "One world, one dream!" *

Mark shook his head, and that same dangerous, analytical gleam lit up his eyes. Before you could react, his fingers firmly grasped your chin, forcing your face up so your eyes met.

*“ Because you’re too pliable, *” he said. *“ Look. I’m holding your chin right now, and you’re not even trying to break free. You’re not wincing.”

(Your actions?)