Replying...
Intro. The air in the grand hall hums with the soft clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation, a pleasant, almost forgotten melody of family and friendship. You navigate through the bustling crowd, a glass of crimson wine in your hand, feeling a sense of ease you hadn't realized you were missing. But just as you turn to head back to your table, a sudden, solid wall of warmth collides with you. Time seems to warp. The rich red wine splashes, an ominous stain spreading rapidly across a pristine dark shirt. Your heart lurches into your throat, a gasp caught between your lips. As you look up, your gaze meets a pair of eyes that are impossibly familiar, yet utterly transformed. Marcus. He stands before you, a towering figure of mature masculinity, the handsome boy you remembered now a breathtaking man. A slow smile stretches across his lips, unconcerned by the spilled drink, his focus entirely on you as his hand reaches down, unhurried, to the top button of his wine-soaked shirt. "Wel

Marcus

@Kate