Though he's only ever been half-aware of it at best, Eduardo has dealt in something like substitutes for a long time now, letting one judgment take the place of another. Now, it's the same story. Olive is all her own, has been something different from the very beginning, but while she couldn't be more unlike Mark or his father if she tried, it's the same approval he's looking for, that he no longer has any other source of, evident in the way his eyes stay wide, gaze uncertain as he looks at her. He believes her, absolutely, but he's barely said a word about what actually happened yet, and he wants more than he should to have gotten something right, to not let her down where that inexplicable faith she has in him is concerned. For all that he'll never understand it, it means the world to him.
At least that's one small comfort he can take from this, though, one that he never got much of a chance to stop and think about, though it factored more into his train of thought than he'd ever let himself own up to. His father isn't here, but if he were, this decision to stand his ground, to not leave the past too fully behind him, is one he'd probably agree with. He can't take back the mistakes he made, but at least he can fucking learn from them.
"God, I don't even know where to start," he sighs, still leaning into her touch, relishing as much of it as he can. "There was just... so much that he was saying, that... it didn't even make sense, and because it didn't make sense, it... was like he was trying to make me look bad, like he was the wounded party and I was the one being a dick, to get me to give up and let him win. And... I'm not gonna be played that easily again, that was the entire fucking point. Like he thinks that just because I'm from before the lawsuit, I'll be just like I was back then - for fuck's sake, he's from four years after me, and I clearly hadn't moved ahead then, so why should I now?" Resolve faltering slightly, he asks, "Right?"
Olive was raised to think the best of people. It's proof of how far things have come in the last several months that this now includes Mark, that she immediately scrambles to provide him with reasons - not excuses, necessarily, because he's hurt Eduardo again, there's no excuse for that, but that doesn't mean he didn't have reason to behave that way. Maybe he was just tired, maybe he's had a hard day. Maybe he just feels so incredibly guilty for what he did that he can't carry it alone, has to shift it onto Eduardo's shoulders so he can take that, too, like all the rest. At least that, she reasons, would show how sorry he is, too. That means something, and she's seen enough to feel sure that they both care about each other, even if Mark isn't the most openly emotional guy in the world. They've tried hard to make this work.
"That guy he knew four years in the future," she says carefully, "he wasn't you. He never got a second chance. But that guy Mark knew at Harvard... he's not you anymore either. Mark hurt you, Eduardo. It's okay to still be mad about that. And to... to forgive, but not forget. I mean, I think that's - I think you have to. And it's hard and it's cynical and it's... I think sometimes you have to be. That there's, you know... only so far you can let yourself be stepped on in the name of making things right before it turns out there isn't a right left. So... yeah."
As hopeful as she is, as optimistic, she's not naïve, not wholly innocent. They love each other, she's seen that, but young as she is, she's old enough to know that isn't always enough to make things work. It doesn't make them bad people, either of them; it just means sometimes there are fractures that don't heal, not ever, things that can't be fixed even with time. Maybe this time Mark will apologize, come back and say he was wrong, that he lashed out in misplaced anger or something like that, and they'll put it right and all this will be a false alarm. But Mark isn't a man who apologizes easily or often, and Eduardo... God, she just wants to keep him safe, even when it isn't possible.
"Yeah," Eduardo echoes, aimless, though he becomes a little more certain of his agreement with each moment that passes. She's right, he has to be, unnatural as it sometimes feels, as much as he hates it, both the feeling itself and the fact that Mark did this to him. Of course he has to be. It's what he was trying to say to Mark from the beginning, what, apparently, wasn't good enough. Nothing was ever going to be, though, and he isn't sure why he ever thought otherwise, except he's always had that sort of hope where Mark was concerned, holding on when all the signs should have been right in front of him. Then, to Mark, that was probably his own fault, too, for believing that nothing he did would be satisfactory when he was only going off all the signs laid in front of him. Fuck expecting too little, or holding the past against him. It wasn't anything like that. It's just the honest to God truth, inescapable no matter how Mark tried to twist the facts. He knows that, and if Olive knows that, too, then he's better off this way, regardless of how much it hurts.
Shaking his head, he bites his lip, just looking at her for a moment. He's grateful, so, so fucking grateful for this, for all of it, but he doesn't yet know how to say so; he just hopes she'll see it instead. "I should have known he'd never stand for that. He has to have everything, you know? Never mind the fact that I did forgive him, and I meant it, too." Even in his head, it's like a constant battle, what he knows ought to be right versus the self-doubt he's so used to Mark instilling in him. On his own, he'd probably be crawling back already. A little backup, though, goes a long fucking way. "You know, he took everything from me back there. And still, you should have heard the way he was talking. I swear to God, it was like he was doing it on purpose, like... he was trying to push all the same buttons that he could before. And I can't do it. I can't... set myself up for that again."
"I know," Olive says, quiet. "I know. It's alright." It's harder now than it would have been months ago. There's a part of her that can't help worrying about Mark now, too, hoping he's alright or will be. The problem is, at the end of the day, if this can't be put right, neither of them is really going to be helped by dragging it out. It'll all only hurt more in the end if they do. If Mark really thinks that way, keeping Eduardo won't help him any more than it will help Eduardo, and it clearly hasn't done that, not with the way her boyfriend sounds now, hurt and listless. He always seems so lost when Mark hurts him, a look on his face that makes her heart ache. Friendship isn't supposed to be like this, and maybe it used to be good, but whatever it was that made them work, long before she knew them, it's broken now. No matter how much she wants to be the one to make things better for him, she can't repair that.
"Some people... just don't learn," she says. "Even if they're trying, you know? Or maybe it's just easier for him to blame you than to admit it can't be fixed. I mean... he really screwed you over. You always knew it wasn't going to be the same. From the night he got here, you knew that. And maybe he's just not ready to live with that." She can't blame Mark for wanting back something like what they once had, but the purity's gone if it ever was there; if he can't yet accept the tainted version, at least Eduardo knows now to back away from going back to what they were. "You know, I mean, he can't expect that from you. And it's good that you left, it's... it's good you stood up for yourself. There's a you know, a difference between loving someone, caring about them, and... and appreciating them. Not taking them for granted."
She's not at all sure that's what's happened here, hasn't had time to process what's occurred, but she knows with absolute certainty that if this is how Eduardo feels, then he's done what's right for him, and that's what matters now.
"I don't think he tried," Eduardo says, shaking his head, mouth pressed into a tight frown. Just saying the words isn't easy, but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that has to be the case. That hurts as much as the rest of it. With as hard as he always tried before, there were few things he ever wanted as much as for Mark to try, too, to hold things together. In the time he's been here, though, it's become increasingly clear that that could never be the case. Again he wonders if he should stop - he doesn't really want Olive to choose a side, wouldn't ask for anything from her, except he does want her to be with him on this - but again it's too late for that, and if he's going to talk about it, he might as well tell her. There's no one else he shares half as much with, no one he feels half as comfortable around. "I don't, I... I think he wanted to seem like he was trying, so he would seem like the good guy, but I don't think he ever had it in him to. Shit, Olive, he told me himself, we don't speak for four years back home. You know how easily Mark could have put an end to that?"
He's never meant nearly enough for that, though, not to Mark. Hand going to his forehead, running back through his hair, he lets out a mirthless laugh. "He fed me some bullshit line about how he was there because he likes my company, but I'd bet you anything that he wouldn't have bothered at all if he still had Facebook here. That's the only thing that's changed. That, and from how much earlier I am. He never wanted me. He wanted... more than me. Some magic do-over, the chance to use me all over again. Which is exactly why I can't give it." It's just too damn clear that he'd have been setting himself up for disaster, everything familiar in how uncharacteristic it was. "I see all the signs this time. That's probably why he got so fucking angry. But, you know, he's the one who did this to me, so... if he can't live with that, then..."
The look he shoots Olive is an apologetic one, even as he ignores the impulse to draw her as close as possible. She isn't all he's got now, but it feels like it. Mark was the be all and end all for so long that knowing it's over this time, it's hard not to feel like the world is falling apart around him, and she's the only anchor he's got.
It's unsettling to Olive, that she's not sure about her own judgment right now. The thing is, she really doesn't know Mark that well still, despite all the time they've spent together, and Eduardo knew him much better. But then there are four years of Mark's history that are a blank, and they don't know, that could have been time enough for him to change, he might never have bridged that divide because he thought the chance was gone. But still, still, Eduardo knows him better and Eduardo's seen so much good in Mark from the start that to hear him finally seeing the bad, too, it's almost enough to make Olive feel she must have been wrong these last few months, and what shakes her more than that possibility is how easy it is to doubt herself on this.
On the other hand, she's seen Mark at work, how absolutely the world disappears when he gets into something, even if he keeps on talking. It's not hard to imagine that, with an adequate distraction like Facebook, all of them would be just so much chatter in the background.
"He needs to learn," she says, shaking her head. Her hand smooths over his arm, stomach twisting. Seeing him like this, worked up and unhappy and bitter, hurts most of all. She doesn't think often about what his life would have been if he'd never come here, if only because it's not an image she can live with knowing she has to leave him someday, but it's impossible not to imagine now and almost choke on it. "If he really does believe that, he... needs to grow up, you don't get to take everything back. I mean, just... you know, there has to have been a time when... when it was true. When he really did just like your company. But if that time's over, if... if this is how things are, then walking away was the right thing to do. You have to take care of yourself."
The thing is, while Eduardo never lived through those extra four years, he knows himself. He knows how he was when he showed up here and how he was seeing Mark again, and that in itself is all he needs to be painfully aware of the fact that there always would have been another chance. He sued - sues - but the company was never what he cared about so much as it was Mark, and with the right word, an apology, something, anything, he has no doubt that their friendship could have been salvageable. Never what it was, but then, he's pretty sure Mark knows that, and maybe that's what he expected to be different here. He's still from after, though, and the sting of that betrayal, the physical pain that came in reading that contract and knowing his best fucking friend had screwed him over, is something he remembers too vividly to ever let go. Maybe that's a fault on his part, but this time, for once, he doesn't think it is. In fact, the more thought he gives it, the more he honestly believes that his father would actually be proud of him for this, for once, something that makes him all the more determined to stand his ground and that makes Olive's agreement seem strangely disconcerting, though no less welcome. There's little if anything the two have in common, but they can both be right in this. It leaves him a hell of a lot less divided than he'd probably be otherwise. He learned all those months ago. Olive is right; Mark does need to, now.
"There was a time," he murmurs, almost to himself, trying not to let himself think too hard about all those nights he spent hanging around Kirkland during his sophomore year, when it was just him and Mark and Dustin and Chris and the only facebook was the one the college had for each house. "But even then, Mark was... Mark. There was always someone, something, with more to offer. I was just lucky he kept me around at all. And then the website happened, and it... became even truer, made a hell of a lot more difference." That much, he always saw, too. He just never had the sense to figure out when holding on was doing more harm than good, when he should have just been letting go. There's a lot he's still bad at, but he's learned a little, and while he can't say he's better off for it (he hates it, hates feeling like this, hates letting her see him like this), because he shouldn't have had to go through it at all, it would be unforgivable on his part if he hadn't. "So I don't know how he expected me to believe otherwise. I'm not that naïve, not anymore."
As far as Olive can see, there are only two options here. She'll probably come up with more later, think about this far more than she should, worrying over him - over both of them, to some extent - but right now, it seems as if either Mark is trying and just going about it wrong or in a way Eduardo can't see, or else he's really manipulating him again. Mark's never treated her like that, but they don't have history. She can't help feeling guilty for distrusting him again, though, when he's listened to her when she needed it, but that doesn't stop her from instinctively worrying she's said too much to him.
There are things, though, she's absolutely certain of: that Mark hasn't seen Eduardo's value in the past, and that, even now, Eduardo doesn't see it either. "Hey," she says, fingers hooking in his collar, urging him to look at her. "Come on, no, okay. I just - Eduardo, listen to me, you just walked away from him. He took you for granted and you were... you did what you had to do and you walked away, and I know that wasn't easy. And I'm sorry it's like this, but I'm proud of you, I am, you know? I'm - you know you deserve better. You deserve more, so why - he's lucky to have you. That's how this works, it's not - I know, he's brilliant and creative and special and all that. I know, I do, but you... he was so lucky to have you. Not the other way around. Because there aren't a lot of people in the world who'd put up with that shit and still be as loyal and as good as you are, and... he's the one who's missing out, you understand? He's the one who didn't realize what he had."
They're words that Eduardo has always had a hard time ignoring, even if he's heard them from her before, under circumstances that he never realized until now were so familiar. She told him she was proud of him when they were back at Harvard, too, one of the few times he's ever found it in him not to yield to Mark like it's so instinctive to do, and it doesn't mean any less now. If anything, it might even be more, this situation itself a hell of a lot more muddled, relationships existing here that didn't before. She has no cause to be so wholly on his side, but she's proud of him anyway, and while he probably hasn't done anything to deserve it, he can't pretend like that wouldn't be enough to change the game on its own. Olive isn't his father, isn't anything close to it, but it goes just as long a way anyway, especially now that she's the sole most important person in his life.
"Thank you," he says on an exhale, shifting easily under her touch, barely aware of doing so. He isn't giving this up, but he's completely worn down, feeling it more and more with every passing moment and left utterly pliant for it, as if taking a stand against Mark sucked any fight he might have had in him for anything out. He might not be able to agree with her, but he can see where she's right anyway: that he does deserve more (he has more, right here so close to him), that Mark took him for granted, that he put up with far more than most people would have and barely even blinked at it. Mark would probably tell him not to make himself a victim, but with what Olive's saying, he doesn't think he could be one at all. "That, um. It helps. To hear."
Even saying it all, Olive knows it isn't entirely fair. She can't say Eduardo wasn't lucky to have Mark in his life, wasn't lucky to have a second chance. Second chances are hard to come by and any friend, any friend, is someone she feels lucky to have in her life. But there's only so long those chances can last, and if Mark meant to push Eduardo like he did, then it's important Eduardo's able to recognize it and get out of it before things go too far again. And if that means he isn't letting go like Mark would like him to do, then she's sorry for what Mark's losing but she isn't sorry it's happening. And if it was unintentional, then eventually someone will figure it out and there will be apologies (or whatever passes for one from Mark) and everything will get smoothed over, but hopefully not without a much-needed discussion.
Until then, what matters is this, Eduardo looking at her, voice barely there. It makes her shiver, knowing she's helped, knowing it isn't enough. "Good," she says, softer now, fingers tracing the line of his cheek, his jaw, down his neck to his shoulder. "Because I mean every word." She can't blame Mark for wanting everything wiped clean, wanting Eduardo to forget, because she can't imagine not wanting to fight tooth and nail to keep Eduardo in her life. It just isn't possible. No matter how badly she'd like to let go of some of the things she's seen and heard in her life, she knows they'll never really go away, even if she's already forgiven everyone. She won't see them the same again, and they did a lot less to her than Mark did to Eduardo. Nothing ever really gets erased. It smudges and fades, but actions are indelible. They all have to live with that.
She knows better than to think saying any of that would actually help now. All she can do is listen to him, let him tell her what he needs, and do her best just to be here for him. Leaning closer, she presses a kiss to his cheek, letting her head rest against his. "I love you. And there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. So... you just say the word, okay? Anything."
Not even with the way she holds him, the way she touches him, a tenderness he's not sure he'll ever entirely be used to, could Eduardo even begin to forget what happened, what was done to him. Whether or not that's a flaw on his part, it simply can't be helped, and that, at the end of the day, is what the whole thing boils down to. If Mark can't accept that, then there's no use in trying, because what he wants is something that Eduardo would never be able to give. At least for Olive, it's enough, and as far as he can tell, always has been. It doesn't fix anything, but he can hold on to that. She's proud of him, even his fucking father would probably be, if not proud of him, then as close to it as he could ever get. Between the two of them, he can't believe himself wholly wrong. Mark's always had a way of leaving him at his weakest, and maybe this is another occurrence of the same, but it could be worse, he could be weaker, he won't fuck up the same way he did before. He knows what to look for now, and he saw it back in the rec center. He hasn't changed completely, but something was always going to give somewhere - one doesn't go through what he did without that being the case - and now, apparently, it finally has.
"I love you, too," he murmurs, an instinct more than anything else, the sound of his voice still bordering on distant, part of him still not quite here. He's aware enough to hate that, to know he should be able to give her everything, especially now, but he hasn't worked up to that yet, everything still fresh. At least he knows, or hopes, that she'll probably understand. Unlike Mark, she's never asked for more than he can give. Leaning against her, he sighs, weary and unable to hide it. It's been like this before, when he's felt so much older than his years, but he'd forgotten the force of it. Things were so good for so long. It was never going to last, but for a while, he almost thought it would. It was always more than he should have gotten, though, and now he's paying the price for that. Whatever she's said about Mark being the lucky one, this loss is still going to be more of a blow for him than he suspects it would have been for his now distinctly former best friend. "And yeah. Yeah, I will."
Olive's not entirely sure about that, if only because Eduardo's never asked for much, but she doesn't press. If he really needs something, he will ask, or she'll guess. She'll be here to help him whatever it takes, her usual devotion amplified by the irrational need to make up for Mark's sudden absence. She's long since had to reconcile herself to the fact it's a space she can't fill, but she can try to make it a little easier to bear, at least. She can deal with the other boy later, see if there's any way to smooth this over that she can manage for them, but truthfully, she suspects this was a long time coming. No matter how good things were for a while and though she would have made the same choice in his shoes, taking her best friend back into her life, chances are the years just changed too much. She won't undermine what he's done unless doing so can save them all heartache for the long haul, not just temporarily.
Fingers stroking through his hair, she shifts, tugging him gently toward her. "Okay," she murmurs, head leaning against his. "Just rest, alright? I'm here." If this is all she can do for now, be here beside him and hold onto him, then nothing on earth is going to tear her away or make her stop until he says otherwise.
"I know," Eduardo murmurs, barely aware, again, of speaking at all. That in itself speaks volumes. With as much as he's lost, it hasn't always been easy to remind himself that he won't lose everything, that he won't always be insufficient, and that's an instinct that's risen up in full force after this last altercation with Mark, the one he thinks was the final nail in their coffin. Olive, though, she's always been here, never been anything less than steady, and it would be doing her a disservice to think that she would ever turn him away, certain though he is that he doesn't deserve this at all. It means the world - means, maybe, more than it should, though he would never actually admit to that. It's dangerous, it always is, to invest so much in one person, but with Olive, it's a different sort of risk, barely enough to count as one at all. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, barely more than a brush of lips against skin, he exhales, slow and careful. "Thank you. Really, thank you."
Olive just turns her head to press a kiss to his hair instead. "Come on," she murmurs, "let's get you in the other room." It's not really that late at all, but he's worn out by all this and he'll be more comfortable in bed, she's sure. Her instinct is to argue against being thanked, but that's not what she needs to do now. If he wants to thank her for what comes naturally, then today she'll let him. Whatever he needs. Taking care of him is all she has to offer at a time like this, and she knows he'd do the same for her if she needed it. At some point, she'll have to worry about making sure he eats, but taking it one minute at a time seems smartest for now. "It'll be more comfortable, alright?"
"Yeah," Eduardo agrees, unwilling though he is to put any distance between them at all, for no matter how short a time. It makes sense, though. While he wouldn't usually take to bed in the middle of the day, Mark has a way of taking everything out of him, wearing him thin, leaving him exhausted enough that the idea is far more appealing than it should be, especially if Olive will stay with him. He tires out more easily these days anyway, hobbling around the island on crutches taking far more energy than it ought to, even if he supposes that makes sense. Hand resting briefly at her jaw, thumb smoothing over her cheek before he drops it to his side again, he finally makes himself pull away, reaching for his crutches even before he pulls himself to his feet. "Alright. Let's go."
Olive stands with him, stepping ahead to clear the way. She's usually neat as it is, but given his leg, she's tried hard to be extra considerate about leaving her things lying around, cleaning up after herself when she's taking a break on a sewing project so there won't be material left out for him to trip over. It's not like she wants to wait on him hand and foot or anything, but carting around a broken leg is rough enough as it is without the day he's had, and she needs, needs, to be able to do something, anything, to feel like she's helping him, even if it's only as simple as moving a bolt of fabric out of his way before pulling the blankets down on the side of the bed she started thinking of his long, long before he ever got hurt.
"Here, let me take them," she murmurs, reaching for his crutches when he's close enough to get into bed. He doesn't need to worry about getting them to stay put somewhere he can get to them, she knows how to make this room work. "And then I'll be right there."
At least that's one small comfort he can take from this, though, one that he never got much of a chance to stop and think about, though it factored more into his train of thought than he'd ever let himself own up to. His father isn't here, but if he were, this decision to stand his ground, to not leave the past too fully behind him, is one he'd probably agree with. He can't take back the mistakes he made, but at least he can fucking learn from them.
"God, I don't even know where to start," he sighs, still leaning into her touch, relishing as much of it as he can. "There was just... so much that he was saying, that... it didn't even make sense, and because it didn't make sense, it... was like he was trying to make me look bad, like he was the wounded party and I was the one being a dick, to get me to give up and let him win. And... I'm not gonna be played that easily again, that was the entire fucking point. Like he thinks that just because I'm from before the lawsuit, I'll be just like I was back then - for fuck's sake, he's from four years after me, and I clearly hadn't moved ahead then, so why should I now?" Resolve faltering slightly, he asks, "Right?"
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"That guy he knew four years in the future," she says carefully, "he wasn't you. He never got a second chance. But that guy Mark knew at Harvard... he's not you anymore either. Mark hurt you, Eduardo. It's okay to still be mad about that. And to... to forgive, but not forget. I mean, I think that's - I think you have to. And it's hard and it's cynical and it's... I think sometimes you have to be. That there's, you know... only so far you can let yourself be stepped on in the name of making things right before it turns out there isn't a right left. So... yeah."
As hopeful as she is, as optimistic, she's not naïve, not wholly innocent. They love each other, she's seen that, but young as she is, she's old enough to know that isn't always enough to make things work. It doesn't make them bad people, either of them; it just means sometimes there are fractures that don't heal, not ever, things that can't be fixed even with time. Maybe this time Mark will apologize, come back and say he was wrong, that he lashed out in misplaced anger or something like that, and they'll put it right and all this will be a false alarm. But Mark isn't a man who apologizes easily or often, and Eduardo... God, she just wants to keep him safe, even when it isn't possible.
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Shaking his head, he bites his lip, just looking at her for a moment. He's grateful, so, so fucking grateful for this, for all of it, but he doesn't yet know how to say so; he just hopes she'll see it instead. "I should have known he'd never stand for that. He has to have everything, you know? Never mind the fact that I did forgive him, and I meant it, too." Even in his head, it's like a constant battle, what he knows ought to be right versus the self-doubt he's so used to Mark instilling in him. On his own, he'd probably be crawling back already. A little backup, though, goes a long fucking way. "You know, he took everything from me back there. And still, you should have heard the way he was talking. I swear to God, it was like he was doing it on purpose, like... he was trying to push all the same buttons that he could before. And I can't do it. I can't... set myself up for that again."
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"Some people... just don't learn," she says. "Even if they're trying, you know? Or maybe it's just easier for him to blame you than to admit it can't be fixed. I mean... he really screwed you over. You always knew it wasn't going to be the same. From the night he got here, you knew that. And maybe he's just not ready to live with that." She can't blame Mark for wanting back something like what they once had, but the purity's gone if it ever was there; if he can't yet accept the tainted version, at least Eduardo knows now to back away from going back to what they were. "You know, I mean, he can't expect that from you. And it's good that you left, it's... it's good you stood up for yourself. There's a you know, a difference between loving someone, caring about them, and... and appreciating them. Not taking them for granted."
She's not at all sure that's what's happened here, hasn't had time to process what's occurred, but she knows with absolute certainty that if this is how Eduardo feels, then he's done what's right for him, and that's what matters now.
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He's never meant nearly enough for that, though, not to Mark. Hand going to his forehead, running back through his hair, he lets out a mirthless laugh. "He fed me some bullshit line about how he was there because he likes my company, but I'd bet you anything that he wouldn't have bothered at all if he still had Facebook here. That's the only thing that's changed. That, and from how much earlier I am. He never wanted me. He wanted... more than me. Some magic do-over, the chance to use me all over again. Which is exactly why I can't give it." It's just too damn clear that he'd have been setting himself up for disaster, everything familiar in how uncharacteristic it was. "I see all the signs this time. That's probably why he got so fucking angry. But, you know, he's the one who did this to me, so... if he can't live with that, then..."
The look he shoots Olive is an apologetic one, even as he ignores the impulse to draw her as close as possible. She isn't all he's got now, but it feels like it. Mark was the be all and end all for so long that knowing it's over this time, it's hard not to feel like the world is falling apart around him, and she's the only anchor he's got.
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On the other hand, she's seen Mark at work, how absolutely the world disappears when he gets into something, even if he keeps on talking. It's not hard to imagine that, with an adequate distraction like Facebook, all of them would be just so much chatter in the background.
"He needs to learn," she says, shaking her head. Her hand smooths over his arm, stomach twisting. Seeing him like this, worked up and unhappy and bitter, hurts most of all. She doesn't think often about what his life would have been if he'd never come here, if only because it's not an image she can live with knowing she has to leave him someday, but it's impossible not to imagine now and almost choke on it. "If he really does believe that, he... needs to grow up, you don't get to take everything back. I mean, just... you know, there has to have been a time when... when it was true. When he really did just like your company. But if that time's over, if... if this is how things are, then walking away was the right thing to do. You have to take care of yourself."
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"There was a time," he murmurs, almost to himself, trying not to let himself think too hard about all those nights he spent hanging around Kirkland during his sophomore year, when it was just him and Mark and Dustin and Chris and the only facebook was the one the college had for each house. "But even then, Mark was... Mark. There was always someone, something, with more to offer. I was just lucky he kept me around at all. And then the website happened, and it... became even truer, made a hell of a lot more difference." That much, he always saw, too. He just never had the sense to figure out when holding on was doing more harm than good, when he should have just been letting go. There's a lot he's still bad at, but he's learned a little, and while he can't say he's better off for it (he hates it, hates feeling like this, hates letting her see him like this), because he shouldn't have had to go through it at all, it would be unforgivable on his part if he hadn't. "So I don't know how he expected me to believe otherwise. I'm not that naïve, not anymore."
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There are things, though, she's absolutely certain of: that Mark hasn't seen Eduardo's value in the past, and that, even now, Eduardo doesn't see it either. "Hey," she says, fingers hooking in his collar, urging him to look at her. "Come on, no, okay. I just - Eduardo, listen to me, you just walked away from him. He took you for granted and you were... you did what you had to do and you walked away, and I know that wasn't easy. And I'm sorry it's like this, but I'm proud of you, I am, you know? I'm - you know you deserve better. You deserve more, so why - he's lucky to have you. That's how this works, it's not - I know, he's brilliant and creative and special and all that. I know, I do, but you... he was so lucky to have you. Not the other way around. Because there aren't a lot of people in the world who'd put up with that shit and still be as loyal and as good as you are, and... he's the one who's missing out, you understand? He's the one who didn't realize what he had."
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"Thank you," he says on an exhale, shifting easily under her touch, barely aware of doing so. He isn't giving this up, but he's completely worn down, feeling it more and more with every passing moment and left utterly pliant for it, as if taking a stand against Mark sucked any fight he might have had in him for anything out. He might not be able to agree with her, but he can see where she's right anyway: that he does deserve more (he has more, right here so close to him), that Mark took him for granted, that he put up with far more than most people would have and barely even blinked at it. Mark would probably tell him not to make himself a victim, but with what Olive's saying, he doesn't think he could be one at all. "That, um. It helps. To hear."
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Until then, what matters is this, Eduardo looking at her, voice barely there. It makes her shiver, knowing she's helped, knowing it isn't enough. "Good," she says, softer now, fingers tracing the line of his cheek, his jaw, down his neck to his shoulder. "Because I mean every word." She can't blame Mark for wanting everything wiped clean, wanting Eduardo to forget, because she can't imagine not wanting to fight tooth and nail to keep Eduardo in her life. It just isn't possible. No matter how badly she'd like to let go of some of the things she's seen and heard in her life, she knows they'll never really go away, even if she's already forgiven everyone. She won't see them the same again, and they did a lot less to her than Mark did to Eduardo. Nothing ever really gets erased. It smudges and fades, but actions are indelible. They all have to live with that.
She knows better than to think saying any of that would actually help now. All she can do is listen to him, let him tell her what he needs, and do her best just to be here for him. Leaning closer, she presses a kiss to his cheek, letting her head rest against his. "I love you. And there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. So... you just say the word, okay? Anything."
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"I love you, too," he murmurs, an instinct more than anything else, the sound of his voice still bordering on distant, part of him still not quite here. He's aware enough to hate that, to know he should be able to give her everything, especially now, but he hasn't worked up to that yet, everything still fresh. At least he knows, or hopes, that she'll probably understand. Unlike Mark, she's never asked for more than he can give. Leaning against her, he sighs, weary and unable to hide it. It's been like this before, when he's felt so much older than his years, but he'd forgotten the force of it. Things were so good for so long. It was never going to last, but for a while, he almost thought it would. It was always more than he should have gotten, though, and now he's paying the price for that. Whatever she's said about Mark being the lucky one, this loss is still going to be more of a blow for him than he suspects it would have been for his now distinctly former best friend. "And yeah. Yeah, I will."
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Fingers stroking through his hair, she shifts, tugging him gently toward her. "Okay," she murmurs, head leaning against his. "Just rest, alright? I'm here." If this is all she can do for now, be here beside him and hold onto him, then nothing on earth is going to tear her away or make her stop until he says otherwise.
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"Here, let me take them," she murmurs, reaching for his crutches when he's close enough to get into bed. He doesn't need to worry about getting them to stay put somewhere he can get to them, she knows how to make this room work. "And then I'll be right there."
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