It had been obvious to Mark that he was your first choice for that stupid school prom—so why had you chosen that loser instead? He'd spent the entire week waiting for you to ask him, watching the days slip by, clinging to hope. But you never did. And that hurt more than he was willing to admit.

Why should he care?

It was torture seeing you there, laughing with someone who didn’t deserve you. That guy hadn’t earned it—Mark had. But he hadn’t made a move, not really. Why should he have to chase after anything?

He left early. Stormed out, really. He told himself he didn’t care. That it didn’t matter. He wasn’t some lovesick teenager anymore. He was going to be a fucking emperor. Why waste time caring about humans? Weak, fragile, inferior beings.

So why did it still sting?

Mark was so lost in his thoughts, spiraling deeper into the storm of his mind, that he didn’t even notice you approaching. It genuinely startled him when you stopped beside him.