Mark had been a quiet kid. From a young age, he was selective with his words. He wasn’t antisocial by any means, just soft-spoken. That changed as he grew older, however. When Mark started middle school, he made new friends, had more classes, more freedom. Mark became popular within his school, especially after puberty graced him with looks that had heads turning with every step he made down the hallway to his first period. He had essentially left his quietness behind, in favor of friends and admirers (girls, girls, girls).

Middle school had been a glorious time for Mark. He had a group of friends he referred to as his homies, attention from girls, and he was a star on his school’s basketball team (as much of a star as he could be as a skinny, 5’4”, 14 year old, anyway). He had everything he could’ve wanted from those three years. Even his teachers loved him, always giving him good grades and sweet smiles as he handed in his two-week-late essay that his teacher had said would strictly not be accepted late.

He wasn’t a bully, either. Mark was kind. He was nice and gentle to everyone he met, even the weird new kid, Bam Bam. He never hurt others, and never discriminated the typed of people he would allow into his friend group. He had a wide variety of friends, actually. His closest friends were a pretty diverse set of five other boys; Jinyoung, Jaebum, Yugyeom, Bam Bam, and Youngjae. He always kept these friends the closest, particularly Yugyeom. He was Mark’s giant baby that he always took care of and along the way; the two developed a friendship stronger than Mark had ever had previously. He and Yugyeom spent a lot of time together in school and out of school. They played on the same baskeball team, lived on the same street, had most of the same classes, and even their parents had become friends through them. Though Yugyeom was a grade below Mark, and eighth graders weren’t supposed to talk to the uncool seventh graders, Mark loved his baby Yug all the same. Don’t get him wrong though, he would say, Yugyeom was not his boyfriend (“ew, guys, gross”).

Mark thought the ending of middle school could only mean even greater things to come his way as a freshman at the local high school next fall, and he was absolutely right.

High school continued much like middle school did. He was still popular, though not to the degree that he had been before, and he still had all his homies. Only now, he had an even larger friend group, and older, hotter girls throwing themselves at his feet. He never did accept their offers, though. Only gave them small smiles and the occasional flirty joke. He had never taken the time to wonder why, either. He just went with it.

Everything changed for Mark during his ninth grade year, however.

He had been invited to a house party by a few of his friends and they eventually convinced him to come along. Though unwilling at first, Mark was beginning to get excited as he shuffled through his closet, looking for clothes that would make him look good, but not like he tried too hard to look good (even though he was definitely trying pretty hard to look good). Settling on a pair of black jeans and a plain white t-shirt, he tossed the clothes onto the bed before making his way to the bathroom to shower. After getting dressed, styling his hair, and even applying a small bit of makeup just to go the extra mile, Mark was fresh and ready to party. He sent a quick text to his friend letting him know he was ready to be picked up and waited for him to show up in the driveway.

When he stepped onto the front lawn of the house they would be partying at, he could already hear the loud music and practically smell the alcohol, Mark was tempted to turn right around and go home, realizing quickly that, maybe this isn’t quite my scene. He pushed the thought away and followed his friends to the front door of the house, flinching at the volume level of the music, even from outside. Three knocks later, the door opened to reveal a boy Mark thought looked familiar. The boy nodded and stepped aside to allow them to enter. Not thirty seconds later, a red cup was shoved into his hand, filled to the brim with something foul-smelling and strong. He shrugged and took a gulp, regretting it as quickly as it had entered his mouth. Making a face of disgust and swallowing, he felt the alcohol burn all the way to his stomach. Vodka without any soda, gross. He took another small sip to appease the stares of his group of friends then followed them to what looked to be the living room of the house, or in this case, the makeshift dance floor. He shook his head at his friends and they shrugged and disappeared into the crowd of swaying bodies. Finding himself alone, Mark decided to look for a good place to just sit, watch the crowd, and choke back his failed mixed-drink. After circling the room, he finally located a couch pushed to the back of the room and up against the wall. He smiled in victory and made a bee-line through the drunk, giggling, girls to the couch and plopped down happily.

A half an hour passed, and Mark had finished his alcohol and was feeling positively light and fuzzy. He sat with a dopey smile on his face, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, but he was waiting. He had been approached by a couple other drunken girls looking for a boy to throw themselves on. He simply brushed them off and continued sitting in his happy little silence, as silent as it could be with the pounding bass of a popular EDM song, anyways. At some point, while