Maze (you got me running through)
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--
Eduardo usually sleeps in on the weekends but when Mark wakes up on Saturday morning Eduardo's bed is already empty and neatly made. It unsettles him and he keeps sneaking glances at it as he pushes himself upright to sit against the headboard. Chris is up too and halfway dressed, bent down to look for something underneath his bed, while Dustin is still wrapped up like a breakfast burrito in his.
"Where's Wardo?" Mark asks, giving his bed another uneasy glance.
"He had a date," Dustin mumbles from within his cocoon.
Mark's chest feels funny and he buries his fingers into the covers. "A date?" he asks, and his voice comes out squeaky and weird.
"A study date," Chris clarifies, reaching over to slap the Dustin burrito. "Jesus Christ, Dustin, don't give him a heart attack."
Mark's cheeks flush annoyingly. "I don't care," he lies.
Chris snorts and Dustin wriggles his head and shoulders out of the covers to roll his eyes at Mark. "Yeah, right," he says.
Mark scowls at them and grabs his computer from the nightstand, pulling it open on his lap. "I don't," he says petulantly. "Wardo can do whatever he likes."
Chris says something that Mark ignores, staring very intently at the boot-up screen. Eduardo is free to do whatever he wants. If he wants to kiss Mark's cheek in the middle of the night and then run off in the morning like they had an awkward one-night-stand, then obviously that's his prerogative, and if it makes Mark feel unsettled and weird and a little bit like he's been dumped, then that's his prerogative and nothing anyone needs to know about.
--
Mark doesn't make it down to the dining hall until lunchtime and then it's only because his stomach won't stop growling at him, but he's not sulking, no matter what Chris or Dustin might say; he just happens to be busy with very important things.
The dining hall is unusually empty and Mark could have easily found a free table, but Erica waves him over from the table she shares with her girl friends. Despite Mark's better judgment he takes his tray over there.
"Hey Mark," Erica says when he sits down, reaching over to give him a one-armed hug in a way that she didn't even do when they were dating.
"Hey," Mark mutters, stiffly accepting her impromptu embrace.
To his surprise, Linda and Christy, Erica's best friends, actually return his greeting without looking like they just bit into a lemon and he nods warily at them. Usually Mark avoids small talk, he just doesn't see the point, but Linda's and Christy's unusually forthcoming attitude has him trying, asking awkward questions about classes and homework, as if he's their creepy uncle twice removed or something.
"See what I mean?" Erica asks, after Mark has offered some bullshit advice about Christy's computer class. "He's like a whole new person."
Mark gives her a sour look and focuses very intently on his food, ignoring the way Linda and Christy hum in agreement. He's not a new person, Eduardo didn't change him, he's just trying a little harder to be likeable because he happens to want to.
After lunch Erica makes him go for a walk around campus, just the two of them. Mark stuffs his hands into his pockets and scuffs his shoes against the ground, but he lets her lead the way, following the immaculately kept gravel paths around the ancient stone buildings. He remembers when he first got here, the awe he felt when tilting his head back to look up at the sprawling main hall; it feels like such a long time ago now.
"I saw you last night," Erica says, leading him around the newly renovated library building toward one of the small parks. "With the Winklevoss twins."
Mark flushes and kicks at a stray stone. "It was stupid," he mutters.
"Maybe," she agrees. "But adorable, too."
Mark rolls his eyes and kicks at another stone. He thinks about Eduardo kissing his cheek and flushes some more. It was easier with Erica, he creepily stared at her for two months until she asked him out and then he let her call all the shots until she broke up with him.
"Why did you break up with me?" Mark asks, staring off into the distance. He doesn't think knowing will stop him from making the same mistakes again, but forewarned is forearmed and all that.
"Because I knew you'd let me," Erica answers simply.
Mark turns his head to look at her, frowning.
She shrugs. "It's true," she says. "I knew you wouldn't fight for me and it made dating you feel pointless."
"Oh," Mark mutters, looking away again. He's not exactly sure what to do with that knowledge.
"Look, Mark…" She reaches out to touch his arm. "I'm not saying dating you was pointless, okay? I… You can be a wonderful person and a compliment from you is… it's worth a whole lot more than a compliment from someone else, but you always made me work for it. You're hard to read and you give so very little away and in the end it was more work that it was worth. People want to be cherished, Mark. I want to be cherished and you just didn't give me that."
"Cherished," Mark repeats dumbly. "What does that even mean? I mean, I know what it means, but not what it means."
Erica laughs, bumping their shoulders together. "It means that people want someone who asks about their day and not just because they think they should but because they care. They want someone who cares where they come from and where they are going. Someone who likes them for who they are and not who they could be." She bumps his shoulder again. "Someone, maybe, who jumps in front of the assholes who want to ruin their night, even if doing that is stupid and probably pointless in the end."
Mark blushes helplessly and stares at the mostly bare trees that line the park; only a few scattered leaves remain, dangling red and vulnerable from the bare branches. Mark feels like one of those leaves, red-faced and naked, and a little bit as if he's going to fall any minute now.
"I like him," Mark mutters, as if Erica hadn’t already told him that, weeks ago.
"I know," Erica answers, without the slightest hint of mocking in her voice, and Mark thinks that she makes a pretty good friend.
--
Chris and Dustin are back when Mark eventually makes it back to the suite but Eduardo isn't and Mark gives his empty bed a scathing look, as if Eduardo will somehow feel it, wherever he is.
"He's at the library," Chris says, as if Mark asked.
"Whatever," Mark mutters, making his way over to his bed.
He pulls his computer open and spends a few minutes staring at the code he wrote before he left. It's nice and neat and orderly in the way that feelings just aren't, but still….
"What's he doing at the library?"
"I don't know," Chris answers, rolling his eyes. "Studying, I assume."
"For this long?"
Chris sighs, throwing his hands out. "Maybe he's very serious about studying," he says. "Or maybe he's avoiding us. I. Don't. Know. Maybe you should head over there and ask him."
Mark huffs, because he is certainly going to do no such thing, and reaches for his headphones.
-
An hour later it's almost time for dinner, Mark hasn't gotten anything done, and Eduardo is still not back. With a dejected sigh Mark pushes his laptop to the side and swings his legs off the bed. Chris looks up from the book he's reading, but Mark pointedly ignores him, shuffling across the floor to stick his feet into his sneakers.
"Going somewhere?" Dustin asks, and when Mark turns to look at him he's beaming like a lunatic.
"No," Mark lies and pulls the door open. It fall shut on Dustin's gleeful laughter which is just as well because Mark does not want to hear whatever thoughts he might have to offer.
It's darkening outside, the streetlights casting a hazy glow across the ground, and frost crunches underneath the soles of Mark's sneakers. Mark sticks his hands into his pockets and pulls his shoulders up against the biting cold, walking quickly across the campus towards the lit-up library building.
Eduardo is at one of the tables in the back, surrounded by piles of books that look like they might fall over and bury him in knowledge any minute. He has one book open on his lap and another before his laptop, but he doesn't seem to be reading either of them, instead he's looking out the narrow window, slowly turning a pen between his fingers. He looks tired and his hair is messed up in the back, as if he forgot to fix it this morning, and Mark doesn't really know what to do about all the stupid feelings that flutter through his chest.
"Wardo," he says, and it comes out a little sharper than he intended, pointed enough that Eduardo jumps and dislodges the book on his lap, making it clatter to the floor.
"Uh… Mark… hi," Eduardo says, carefully avoiding Mark's eyes while his cheeks go from pink to bright red. "What… um… what are you doing here?"
A girl from two tables over hushes them and Mark gives her an annoyed look. Libraries, in Mark's opinion, are not actually sanctuaries of silence, and hushing people is stupid and pithy either way. Eduardo, of course, apologizes, which leads to her hushing him again and Mark picks one of the books from Eduardo's table, weighing it in his hand while he entertains a brief fantasy of throwing it at her head. He doesn't. Instead he pointedly turns his back to her and focuses his attention on Eduardo, which weirdly makes him blush again, and fidget with the book on his lap. He really is kind of hopelessly adorable.
"Are you going to hide here forever?" Mark asks, unnecessarily loud, just to annoy hush-girl.
Eduardo blushes even brighter, Mark didn't know he could do that, and squirms uncomfortably.
"I'm not hiding," he whispers petulantly.
Mark eyes the Powerbar wrapper discarded on the table. He knows for a fact that Eduardo hates Powerbars and doesn't consider them an adequate substitute for a meal. He raises his eyebrows and Eduardo blushes some more. It makes Mark feel funny inside and he scuffs his feet, putting the book down on the table.
"Are you coming or what?" he asks grumpily, shoving his hands into his pockets again.
Eduardo only hesitates for a moment before he nods.
-
It's almost entirely dark when they step out from the library and it's cold enough that their breath turns to smoky mist. They don't even make it down the stairs before Eduardo starts to make worried noises about Mark's lack of proper clothing.
"What is it with you and clothes?" he asks, exasperated. "Wearing a coat wouldn't kill you, you know?"
Mark shrugs. "I don't get cold," he lies. The truth is more that he never remembers that he does get cold until he's already outside and then going back to change always seems like too much work.
"You could at least wear gloves," Eduardo says, "Or a scarf."
Mark ignores him, but he can't help the way his lips curl up, even as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets because it really is fucking cold.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Eduardo mutters, pulling on Mark's sleeve to get him to stop.
"What?" Mark asks, pulling his shoulders up.
Eduardo just shakes his head, pulling the scarf he's wearing around his neck loose. It's poison green, and loosely knitted, easily long enough to almost brush the ground when unfolded.
"Wear this," he says, hanging it around Mark's neck.
Mark stares down at where the tassels almost brush the tops of his sneakers and rolls his eyes. "I'm going to look like an idiot in this," he points out.
Eduardo carefully wraps the scarf twice around Mark's neck, so that the tassels only dangle down to his stomach. "No, you won't," he says, gloved fingers curling into the soft yarn as he makes a simple knot against Mark's chest.
The scarf smells like Eduardo, spicy and citrusy like the shower gel he uses, and Mark's cheeks flush stupidly, breath sticking oddly in his throat. Eduardo is still holding on to the ends of the scarf, his knuckles almost brushing Mark's chest, and Mark's heart thumps against his ribcage as if it's trying to send Eduardo a message in Morse code.
Eduardo looks up and their eyes catch for the briefest moment, but Mark still feels the jolt of contact down to his toes. Then Eduardo kisses him. It's just a dry brush of lips, but on the mouth this time, and Mark's heart pounds so hard he feels dizzy with it.
Then Eduardo stumbles back, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, eyes huge and panicked. "Shit," he curses. "Shit, shit, shit, shit."
Mark blinks, because he didn't think it was that bad.
"Fuck," Eduardo hisses emphatically. "I'm so sorry. I didn't… Shit, I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. It was just… and the scarf… and fuck."
Eduardo runs a shaky hand through his hair, making it stand up oddly, his eyes looking anywhere but at Mark.
"I'm sorry," he says again, and Mark's stomach clenches. "I didn't… I didn't… Can we just forget about it? Please."
Mark's chest kind of hurts and his stomach feels oddly hollow, but he nods jerkily. "Okay," he says flatly, "Fine. It never happened."
Eduardo glances at him and his face looks weird for a moment before he tears his eyes away again. "I'm sorry," he says again and he really does look miserable, all hunched in on himself and trembling from head to foot.
"Don't worry about it," Mark grinds out. "It's fine."
It doesn't feel fine. It feels as if Eduardo just gave him an amazing present and then tore it out of hands because it was all just a joke to him. Mark looks away, pulling his shoulders up, and the stupid scarf still smells like Eduardo, and his stupid eyes won't stop stinging, and he really wishes he were anywhere but right here.
"I'm sorry," Eduardo says again.
"Would you stop fucking apologizing?" Mark explodes. "It was a mistake. I get it. Just… just shut the fuck up, would you?"
Eduardo flinches, as if Mark slapped him across the face, and takes half a step back.
"I think I…" he gestures towards the still open library.
"Fine," Mark spits out, tearing the stupid scarf from around his neck and holding it out.
Eduardo snatches it from his fingers, making sure their hands don't touch, and that's that.
--
The two weeks that follow the kiss-that-wasn't easily qualify as the worst weeks in Mark's life. Everything is awkward and horrible and tense and he just can't make the stupid feelings in his chest go away no matter how often he wires in.
He sleeps like shit. He keeps waking up, hoping that Eduardo will be sitting by his bed, but he never is and it just makes everything worse. He wants to apologize, he wants to make Eduardo smile at him again, but he can't because he's still so fucking angry. Eduardo kissed him. Eduardo kissed him twice. And then he took it back. And everything sucks.
Mark spends most of the time he's not in class and not wired in with Erica and her girl friends that he's almost, tentatively, ready to call his girl friends, which is weird on so many levels. Sometimes when Erica isn't around, he has lunch with Christy, and he sits with Linda in Latin, French, and ancient Greek, and it's… nice. And they're all very attractive women, but he doesn't want to bone them, he just wants to pick their weird and curly brains. And it's good. But strange.
Besides, it's nice to have a few people on "his" side, because he's pretty sure that both Chris and Dustin assume the he did something horrible and to be honest he hasn't really tried to talk them out of that notion. It sucks to get the cold shoulder from his best friends, but Mark has other friends now, and Eduardo, being the new kid, doesn't. Mark might still be pissed at him but he doesn't want Eduardo to be miserable and cowering along the walls like he used to. It's bad enough that he won't even look at Mark, this tight look of something permanently etched onto his face.
--
Then it's the weekend again, and Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and Mark doesn't usually look forward to spending time with the extended family but this year he can't wait.
Chris and Dustin are leaving on Tuesday night since Tuesday is a half day, while Mark is set for a long boring train ride on Wednesday around noon (his mother knows better than to book him on the early train). He doesn't know when Eduardo is leaving and he tells himself, very firmly, that he doesn't care.
He spends Saturday and most of Sunday hanging out with Erica and Christy. (Linda has a boyfriend from town and spends most of her weekends with him.) He would stay in the suite and wire in, but his being around makes everyone uncomfortable, so in the end it's easier just to leave. He does wire in when he gets back to the room on Sunday night though, because he's been working on an "intelligent" music player for a while and if he leaves the code for too long he'll forget what he was doing.
Eduardo is on his bed, but after an hour, maybe, of Mark's tapping he grabs his phone and heads outside. Mark looks up just in time to see the door fall shut behind him and he can't help the way he sits up a little straighter, the key card incident from October still at the back of his mind. It's the first time Mark has been alone with Chris and Dustin since he came storming back to the suite after the incident and Chris immediately throws his book to the side.
"You're going to tell me what happened and you're going to tell me now," he says, pointing a shaky finger at Mark. "This, whatever this is, is freaking me out and Wardo won't talk."
Mark ignores him, staring uneasily at the door. What if Eduardo is in trouble? Would he let Mark help him?
"Mark." This time it's Dustin. "Mark, please." Dustin looks honestly upset, clutching his pillow to his chest like a child with a teddy bear.
Mark sighs. "Nothing happened," he says. He's so not going to tell them that Eduardo kissed him (twice) and took it back. He hasn't told anyone about that, not even Erica.
"Mark."
"We… we argued, okay?" Mark says, turning to look at Chris. "I told him to shut up and he's been quiet for two weeks. Hoo-fucking-ray."
"No," Chris says. "No, that's not it. Wardo says it was his fault."
"Well, he thinks world hunger is his fault," Mark mutters. "No surprise there."
Mark looks at the door. Can't Eduardo come back already so that Mark can go back to his code and everything can be tense and horrible again?
"Please just make up," Dustin says pitifully, falling over on the bed. "It's like when my mom and dad were thinking about getting a divorce and everyone walked on eggshells around the house for months."
"Oh," Mark says, mouth twisting. "I… uh… I'm sorry… about that."
Dustin looks startled, abruptly pushing himself up again. "Did you just apologize for something you had nothing to do with?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. He no longer looks pitiful, his usual expression of gleeful insanity sneaking back across his features. "Oh my God, Mark," he exclaims. "Love changed you. You're like a whole new person. Wardo cooties infected your bloodstream and now you will empathize like a boss."
Mark looks to Chris for help, but Chris is smiling at him in this weird soft way that Mark doesn't think he likes.
"You did change," he says and Mark decides that he liked it better when they weren't talking to him.
--
Eduardo is gone for almost half an hour and Mark is just about to swallow his pride and go look for him when he walks in. He's been crying, eyes red-rimmed and face blotchy, and his bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, as if he's still struggling to hold back tears. He doesn't look at anyone, but his eyes keep flitting to the open space next to Mark on the bed and after a breathless moment Mark reaches out to pat it in invitation.
It barely takes a second for Eduardo to kick off his shoes and stumble across the room, collapsing next to Mark on the bed. He doesn't say anything; he just curls into a tight ball against Mark's side, pressing his face into Mark's bony hip. Mark can feel the way Eduardo's breath keeps hitching, coming out in jerky warm puffs against Mark's pants, seeping through to his skin, and after a moment he fake-casually drops a hand into Eduardo's hair.
Eduardo makes a small broken noise, fisting a hand into Mark's pants, as if he wants to get impossibly closer and Mark exchanges worried looks with Chris and Dustin.
"Are you okay?" Mark asks gruffly, still petting Eduardo's hair with stiff awkward fingers. "Did someone hurt you?"
Eduardo shakes his head minutely, which could mean no on both accounts, or maybe just that he doesn't want to talk about it. Mark licks his lips and wonders if he should make Eduardo talk about it, or if it's okay to just pet Eduardo's hair for now. Most likely Eduardo got into another fight with his dad and there's nothing much Mark can do about it, no matter how much he wants to get on the next plane to Miami and punch Saverin Senior in the nose. If Eduardo wants to talk, he will talk, Mark's almost certain of that.
--
Eduardo doesn't talk. Eventually, he pushes himself off Mark's bed, clearly embarrassed, and mutters something about taking a shower, disappearing to the bathroom with his toilet bag, a towel, and his pajamas.
"Fight with daddy?" Dustin suggests as soon as the door closes behind him.
Mark and Chris both nod, exchanging a quick look.
"Sometimes I hate that guy," Dustin sighs, flopping over on his back.
"All the time," Mark mutters darkly.
It's entirely possible that Eduardo's dad has tons of amazing qualities, maybe he's nice to small children, or maybe he spends his free time volunteering at animal shelters, but Mark will never be able to forgive him for the way he treats Eduardo. And it's not like Eduardo ever talks about it, it's actually bad enough for Mark to be able to read it between the lines, and that says something.
Eduardo takes a long time in the shower and when he gets back he crawls directly into bed, turning his back to the room. He looks too small, curled up under the covers, like he did that first night forever ago, and Mark can't help the way he keeps looking over to reassure himself that Eduardo is still there. It's ridiculous, maybe, but Mark is coming to terms with the fact that he's always going to be ridiculous about Eduardo.
--
In the morning Eduardo goes to breakfast early, like he's done every morning for the last two weeks, and Mark tries really hard to pretend it doesn't bother him. Chris and Dustin both keep shooting him these looks, as if they're pitying him, and in the end Mark leaves early, too, because he can't imagine sitting through a whole meal with Chris and Dustin feeling sorry for him.
The air outside is crisp, but the grass is wet with dew instead of frost, and the sun shines from a pale blue sky, hinting at a beautiful day to come. Mark squints sullenly at it, never at his best in the mornings, and shoves his hands into his pockets as he descends the stairs.
"Mark, wait up."
Mark freezes at the familiar sound of Eduardo's voice, craning his neck to find Eduardo standing at the side of the building. He scuffs his shoes against the ground as he waits for Eduardo to catch up, watching him from out of the corner of his eye. Eduardo is in his uniform, of course, and somehow it always looks so much better on him than it does on Mark, like a fashion statement rather than a necessity.
Mark's uniform pants hang low on his hips and sag around his skinny legs. His shirt is too long and always wrinkled, and the vest never fit him quite right. Eduardo's uniform pants look tailored, his shirt is always crisp and his vest emphasizes the long line of his thin torso. Mark's hair declared autonomy when he was two and has been a tangled mess of hopeless curls ever since while Eduardo's hair is always perfectly coifed. It's unfair, Mark thinks, for one person to be that good looking.
Mark starts walking as soon as Eduardo comes up beside him and they're halfway to the dining hall before Eduardo finally speaks.
"Can we…" He cuts himself off and when Mark glances at him he's gnawing at his lower lip, cheeks flushed pink.
"Can we what?" Mark asks.
Eduardo hesitates, making a complicated face. "Can we just be okay again?"
Mark doesn't even have to think about it. "We're always okay," he says flatly. "I told you that."
He's a bit embarrassed about how much he still means it, but Mark never wanted to be another burden on Eduardo's shoulders.
"Yeah?"
Mark turns to give Eduardo a flat look only to find him fighting a smile with his lower lip still caught between his teeth. He looks ridiculous and Mark really, really wants to kiss him, but instead he jerks his eyes away and nods. "Yeah," he mutters.
--
Things go back to normal, mostly, but there's still this weird undercurrent of tension that Mark can't decipher, and all in all he's pretty happy that he's getting a break from everything over Thanksgiving. Being ridiculous and awkward and having all these feelings about someone is fucking exhausting in Mark's opinion. He doesn't know how other people do it, or why they seem to actually want it.
"It's fun," Erica says when he asks her on Tuesday night. She's leaving for home early on Wednesday morning and somehow bullied him into coming over to say goodbye. (Cookies might have been involved.)
"Fun?" Mark asks, giving her a disbelieving look.
"Thrilling," she adds. "Life would be pretty boring if you never fell in love."
"I like boring," Mark mutters.
"Do you really now?" Erica asks, kicking lightly at his thigh and he picks up a pillow and hits her with it to hide the fact that he's blushing.
Somehow it escalates from there into a full blown pillow fight and when the door opens to let in Christy, Linda, and surprisingly Eduardo, Mark's flat on his back with Erica sitting on his chest, a pillow held threateningly over Mark's face.
"Yield, you bastard," she says, completely ignoring their new company.
"Never," Mark responds, because it's pretty much required.
He lifts his hands to protect himself from the pillow she's about to slap into his face, but somehow it never lands. He looks up to find Eduardo standing by the bed with the pillow in his hand and a scowl on his face.
"It could have gotten in his eyes," Eduardo says, giving Erica an angry look.
Erica rolls her eyes and climbs off Mark's chest. It's nice to be able to breathe again and Mark tells her as much, earning himself a slap to the arm.
"Hey," Eduardo says, scowling even harder, and it would be amusing if it wasn't also strangely hot.
"Yeah, yeah," Erica says, holding her hands up. "No damaging the goods, I get it."
Eduardo inexplicably blushes, dropping the pillow next to Mark on the bed. "Dustin and Chris are leaving if you want to say goodbye," he says, voice oddly flat.
"Okay," Mark says, pushing himself off the bed. "Have a good break everyone."
Unsurprisingly, they won't go for that and Mark finds himself being awkwardly hugged by Erica, Christy and Linda respectively while Eduardo waits by the door.
--
Eduardo doesn't say anything on their way across campus except to inform Mark that he forgot his phone in the suite and it's quite obvious, even to Mark, that he's sulking.
"They would have hugged you too, if you asked," Mark points out.
Eduardo gives him a withering look. "Sure," he says. "I bet they're real hug-machines."
Mark shrugs. "They're girls," he says and to him that explains everything. (Except, maybe, why they're friends with him, because that part's inexplicable.)
"I know," Eduardo says tightly and sometimes he really doesn't make sense at all.
--
Mark is subjected to more hugs, this time from Chris and Dustin, and he can't help to wonder if Eduardo is going to hug him too before he leaves tomorrow. It's kind of ridiculous, all this hugging, because they'll see each other again on Sunday, but whatever, Mark can deal.
Then Chris and Dustin are gone and Mark realizes that for the next twelve or so hours he will be alone with Eduardo; it's slightly terrifying.
"Aren't you going to pack?" Eduardo asks when Mark pulls his laptop open and settles down on his bed.
"Tomorrow," Mark says vaguely, because he never packs before last minute.
"Okay," Eduardo says, settling down on his own bed, and if he sounds a bit weird, Mark decides to let it slide.
Mark spends the better part of the evening coding, because God knows there won't be enough of that over the weekend, but he sneaks glances at Eduardo every now and then trying to decipher his odd silence. Eduardo is never silent like this, usually he talks and talks and talks, filling every silence with words, but now he spends most of his time toying uselessly with his phone. Mark doesn't like it.
"Are you expecting a call?" Mark asks, when he gets up to brush his teeth and finds Eduardo playing with his phone again.
Eduardo startles so hard he drops the phone on the bed. "No," he says, but he won't meet Mark's eyes.
Mark wonders if he should push the issue because Eduardo is clearly weird about something, but he doesn't want to disrupt the still somewhat fragile truce between them.
"Okay," he says, then he adds, "When's your flight tomorrow?"
"In the afternoon," Eduardo mumbles. "I told you that."
"Okay…" Mark spins his toothbrush between his fingers and stares at the way Eduardo won't look at him. "Aren't you going to pack?"
Eduardo huffs and finally lifts his eyes to give Mark an annoyed look. "I'm gonna pack tomorrow, okay?"
"Fine," Mark says tightly. "I don't care."
The sad thing, Mark thinks as he heads for the bathrooms, is that he does care very much.
--
They have breakfast together in the morning but Eduardo is still weird and twitchy and he checks his phone at least seventeen times. Mark tries to ask about it again, but Eduardo so clearly does not want to talk about it that Mark lets the subject drop and wishes, quite vehemently, that Chris was around. Chris always knows what to do when someone's not okay.
They walk in silence back to the dorm, almost close enough for their hands to brush, and Mark gets the odd feeling that if he started walking in a completely different direction Eduardo would just follow him like a lost puppy. He's just about to ask about it (in a roundabout way) when Eduardo's phone actually does ring, nearly startling both of them out of their skin.
Mark notices that Eduardo's hands are shaking as he pulls it out of his pocket, and he mumbles something vague about packing before he picks up his speed to give Eduardo some privacy. He kind of wants to call Chris or Dustin, to ask if they have any idea why Eduardo's being odd, but they'd probably think Mark did something and the nasty part is that Mark isn't entirely sure he didn't do something. Sometimes he does things without even realizing, but somehow he doubts that he unintentionally managed to do something that led to the whole Eduardo/phone situation.
--
It takes Eduardo so long to come back to the room that Mark is almost done packing, his duffel bag lying open on the bed with clothes spilling out of it in every direction. He still has almost two hours to kill before the car service arrives to take him to the train station and he's contemplating getting some coding done when the door opens to let Eduardo slink inside.
It only takes one quick look for Mark to determine that Eduardo is very much not okay, face tight and eyes shiny, even his hair looks depressed.
"Are you okay?" Mark asks.
"Sure," Eduardo responds roughly and it's probably the most obvious lie he's ever told.
Once upon a time Mark would have let it slide, he was never that interested in talking about people's feelings anyway, but now he finds that he can't. There is an actual physical need to find out what is wrong and fix it, which is simply too ridiculous for words.
He watches with narrow-eyed annoyance as Eduardo sits down on the bed and folds his hands in his lap, staring off into the distance in a way that makes Mark think he's trying not to cry. It's simply unacceptable.
"Aren't you going to pack?" Mark asks, because Eduardo is the type of person that packs his fucking school bag the night before to make sure he doesn't forget anything.
Eduardo nods, but he still won't look at Mark and Mark doesn't miss the way his hands clench. Anger flares up, white-hot like molten lava, threatening to sharpen Mark's tongue into a razor-blade, but somehow he bites back all the words spilling forward, because for once he's able to recognize the fact that he's not angry at Eduardo, he's angry for him.
"You're not going home, are you?" Mark says flatly.
Eduardo folds forward burying his face into his hands, as if his neck is too fragile to support his misery.
"No," he whispers.
For what might be the first time in his life Mark has absolutely no idea what to do. He just stares at the back of Eduardo's downturned head until Eduardo visibly shakes himself, shoulders tensing as he slowly straightens up.
"But it's okay," he says, voice wavering. "I have loads of reading to do anyway and it'll be nice to have the suite to myself."
Mark stares at him.
"You should finish packing." Eduardo nods towards Mark's messy bed, almost smiling. "Do you think you'll even be able to close that thing?"
Mark blinks, the whole thing is completely baffling. Two minutes ago Eduardo practically admitted to not being okay and now he's trying to pretend that everything's fine, as if Mark is suffering from some sort of short-term memory problem. It makes him wonder how many times in the past he completely missed the moment where Eduardo fell apart and only picked up on the moment he put himself back together.
"Wardo…" Mark starts, but he has no idea where that sentence ends, so he clamps his mouth shut again.
Eduardo smiles and even if it looks more real this time, it's still fake. "I'll be fine," he says. "You really should finish packing. I'd feel horrible if you missed your train because of me."
"Yeah…" Mark frowns and glances at his bed. "I just… I have to make a call."
--
Mark steps out into the deserted hallway to make his call, leaning back against the wall next to the door that used to be the Winklevii's while he waits for his mom to pick up.
"Did you miss the train?" she asks by way of greeting and he huffs out an annoyed sigh.
"No. It hasn't even left yet, how could I possibly have missed it?"
"Oh… that's right… but why are you calling then?"
Mark can hear people talking in the background, probably his youngest cousins by the sound of it, and he suddenly experiences a pang of unwanted homesickness. He'd never admit it but life always seems a little easier in his mother's kitchen, even when there's nothing wrong with life away from it.
"I… uh…" Mark trails off. He was all set to tell his mom that he was going to stay at school with Eduardo but somehow he can't bring himself to say it.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, voice softening, and the noise in the background cuts off as if she moved somewhere private to talk. "Is it Eduardo?"
Mark's face flushes hot, he didn't realize he talked about Eduardo often enough for his mom to pick up on it, but then his mom rarely misses anything.
"Yeah, he's… He's not going home. He's… Mom, he's not okay."
Mark bites down hard on his lower lip and feels woefully inadequate.
"Oh, sweetie," she sighs, and it says something that Mark doesn't even protest the nickname. "Do you want to bring him home?"
"Can I?" Mark asks and he absolutely hates the way his voice almost wavers.
His mom chuckles softly. "Of course, honey. I'd love to meet him. I'll see what I can do about tickets and call you back, okay?"
Mark takes a deep breath. "Thanks, mom. I… uh… Iloveyou."
He says it fast, so it won't be so horribly embarrassing, but it is anyway and somehow it's all Eduardo's fault. Why did he have to sneak into Mark's life and turn it upside down and inside out? Why did he have to make Mark the kind of person that talks about his feelings?
"Oh," Mark's mom says, voice all soft and full of wonder. "I love you, too, honey."
Mark blushes and mutters something grouchy, but he can't help the stupid smile that stretches his lips as he hangs up.
--
Eduardo's pretending to read when Mark walks back into the room and Mark lets him be for the time being. After all, he can certainly relate to not wanting to talk about his emotions, even if he's apparently turning into someone who sprinkles feelings around like candy. He finishes packing his bag instead, and even goes as far as putting everything else back into the closet nice and orderly instead of throwing it in there in a hopeless tangle. He's just about to shove his laptop into his backpack when his mom calls.
"Yeah," Mark says by way of greeting, trying to juggle the laptop and the bag one handed.
"I managed to book him onto your ticket," his mom says. "So it'll be the same booking number you already have."
"Okay," Mark says, shoulders relaxing slightly.
"Because you do have it, right?"
"Yes." It's written down on a slip of paper and stuffed in his wallet, like she told him to do when she made the original booking.
"You better write it down again just in case."
Mark rolls his eyes, but abandons the bag for now to hunt down a slip of paper. She gives him the number and he dutifully writes it down and then repeats it back to her twice before she's satisfied.
"See you soon," she says.
"Yeah," Mark mutters gruffly, because he's pretty sure he has reached his emoting quota for the day.
He disconnects the call and drops his phone next to his duffel bag on the bed.
"Pack your bag, Wardo," he says flatly.
"What?"
Mark turns around to give Eduardo an annoyed look. "I said pack your bag."
Eduardo blinks. "Why?"
"You're going home with me."
Mark tries to say it matter-of-factly, as if it's no big deal, but he's not sure it comes out that way.
"You're taking me home?" Eduardo asks, cheeks pinkening, and Mark doesn't know if he likes the way Eduardo says it, because he's making it into a big deal, Mark can tell.
"Yeah," he says curtly. "Pack your damned bag or we're going to miss the train."
"Okay," Eduardo says meekly, but there's this smile curling his lips that Mark can't read.
"It's not a big deal," Mark says defensively.
"Okay," Eduardo says again, but Mark can tell he doesn't mean it.
--
It is a big deal.
Somehow it doesn't hit Mark until they're almost there that he's taking Eduardo home to see his family. Eduardo will meet his mom and his sisters and his dad and all his aunts and uncles and cousins because Thanksgiving in the Zuckerberg household is huge. They're going to interrogate Eduardo, and tell him embarrassing stories from Mark's childhood, and, oh God, his mom will bring out the baby pictures.
And the worst part is that they will take one look at Mark, one look, and they'll know, like they knew when Mark was ten and had a crush on the girl next door even though he never said a single word about it. Mark's entire family will know that he's ridiculous about Eduardo, they'll know that he's gay, or bi, or pan, or whatever, and Mark never even considered the implications of coming out.
"We could always get off the train at the next station and stay in a seedy motel over the weekend," Mark suggests, giving Eduardo a sideways look.
"Oh…" Eduardo pulls at the hem of his shirt without looking at Mark, shoulders tensing. "I could… I could go back if you… I mean… It's…" He trails off, turning his head to stare determinedly out the window. "It's okay if you changed your mind."
Mark stares at him, because in what universe is it okay to drag someone halfway across the country and then send them back? Mark might be in the middle of a quiet freak out but he's not a monster, okay?
"Jesus Christ, Wardo," he hisses. "What is fucking wrong with you?"
Eduardo flinches. "I… uh…"
"It's not fucking okay to drag someone across the country and dump them there and no one… no one should ever do that to you. You shouldn't let anyone do that to you, okay? You're… you're worth more than that."
Mark clamps his mouth shut and silently sulks because at the rate he's going, they won't even have to look at him. It's pretty hard to keep sulking though when Eduardo turns back to face him with this huge shy smile on his face.
"You have feelings all over your face," Mark informs him sourly.
Eduardo smiles even wider and bumps his shoulder against Mark's in a way that makes Mark's own lips stretch into an answering smile even if he tells them not to.
"You like my feelings," Eduardo says.
"Your feelings suck," Mark mutters.
Eduardo's startlingly loud laugh makes Mark's cheeks heat up for some reason and he shoves his elbow into Eduardo's side just to show much he doesn't appreciate it.
"Asshole," Eduardo says, shoving Mark back, but he sounds more fond than upset.
--
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