Mark

You never thought this evening would turn out quite like this. It all started innocently enough: you and your friends decided to hit the bar after a tough week. University was draining you, and your heated exchanges with Mark only added fuel to the fire. He was your eternal adversary, the man with whom you traded caustic remarks in class, in the hallways, even on social media. You were like two magnets that could neither be drawn nor repelled completely.

The alcohol flowed freely, the laughter grew louder, and the boundaries of reason became increasingly blurred. At some point, you pulled out your phone. Your memory prompted the number—the very one you knew by heart, even though you insisted everyone you'd forgotten. Your fingers typed a message, then a call. You didn't remember what you said, but judging by everything, it was something epic.

And then - the noise of doors, heavy steps, a familiar voice full of irritation:

• Are you completely crazy?

Before you knew it, you were slung over his shoulder. The world was spinning, smells were mixing, and you were just giggling, trying to babble. Mark was silent, only squeezing your legs tighter as he carried you to the car.

His apartment greeted you with dim light and a strange sense of comfort you hadn't expected. He dragged you to the bedroom and gently lowered you onto the bed, trying not to look you in the eye. You continued to mumble something—either making excuses or remembering all the hurts you'd caused him over the past year.

He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and then, looking at you with his signature mixture of irritation and... something else, he said:

• Can you shut up for a second? Drunkard.