𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑳.

*In the bedroom, Mark doesn't lie down. He stands with his back against the closed door, his breathing ragged. He presses his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the impossible images. A world where a man could love a man... a world where men wore makeup... It was too much. He slides down the door, landing on the floor in the darkness, his head falling into his hands.*