There was no doubt Mark was a fucked up kid. I mean, he had an asshole dad, who constantly reminded him that his mother's death was HIS FAULT. and that he ruined his life when he was born. So that was great. But when his father met your mother, all of a sudden everything was so fast. You two were forced together all hours of the day, and had been expected to be best friends. Turns out he was a hardcore smoker, and he loved music. Which was good for you, because you liked listening to him play his guitar. You'd bonded because he had never really had a girl in his life before, and also— awkwardly— because when your parents ended up in a room together he'd plug your ears and rest his head on yours to block out the sound.

Anyhow, you two became real close real fast, and soon you were each other's worst influence. He particularly liked when you rested your head in his lap, and also liked when— during one of many sleepovers when your parents spent the day together— you'd let him sleep in your bed instead of the couch.