standing on the edge of it all
title: standing on the edge of it all
pairing/characters: Mark/Eduardo (pre-slash), Mark/Eduardo/Dustin/Chris (bromance)
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: ~6,500
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
summary: On the night before the deposition officially ends, Mark finds a drunk Eduardo in the room.
notes: Thank you, zinkini, for holding my hand through this and cheering me on. Thank you, goldendoods, for a beta job well done.
Title from Justin Nozuka's If I Gave You My Life.
Mark Zuckerberg rarely makes plans for his evenings; even less so in the past couple of weeks, when he was in the final stages of fulfilling his role as a professional defendant like the CEO that he is. Yesterday his lawyers sat through another reading of the drafted settlement with the other side and made the much-bargained changes; the revised copy will be presented officially tomorrow. If that is supposed to bring Mark closure, he has yet to feel it.
Technically, Mark is no longer being deposed. The litigation phase is over, and he is not required to come to this torture chamber of chrome and glass anymore. Really, it’s not like this lawsuit gave him Stockholm Syndrome, but he insisted on seeing his team of lawyers in person anyhow. Sy assured him multiple times that everything is going smoothly; Mark just shrugged and asked Marilyn to pass him a copy of the non-disclosure agreement. It wasn’t impossible to decode the look she gave him, but he refused to try.
It’s 10:30PM right now. The night guy downstairs nodded Mark good evening when he came up to check the locks, and Mark is ready to stay in the building till midnight. He looks up from the laptop screen. The blinds are opened; vast shades of blue staggered between thin bars of white, littered by the city light. This is the only time of the day when Mark actually looks at this city, from an angle up high and impersonal: it’s the way he sees at most things in his life now, the much too affordable ones.
Mark turns back to the command screen of Facebook. The last clause of the final draft is still fresh in his mind’s eye, restore Eduardo Saverin’s name on the Facebook masthead. Judging from Sy’s face in the afternoon, Gretchen fought pretty hard for that one.
She shouldn’t have to, Mark thinks as he navigates to the editing screen in half a second. He glances the neat blocks of text and the three names in bold, his hands perfectly steady as he lays his fingers out on the keyboard, eyes half-closed. The name he is required to add used to be expected and almost unthinking, like the elasticity of black keys under the pads of his fingers.
Enter.
The cell phone chirps before he finishes writing the new line. Mark picks it up, and the text from Chris reads, IS IT ALMOST DONE?
Mark hits the reply button, his unkempt fingernails slipping on the keypad every other letter: IT WILL CLOSE TOMORROW, BE BACK ON SUNDAY
- GOOD. I'M AT VICKY'S ENGAGEMENT PARTY AND DUSTIN IS KILLING ME
- DRUNK?
- LIKE PARIS HILTON IF SHE'S A PEGLEGGED SAILOR. GONNA DRIVE HIM HOME IN A MINUTE - SHIT HE JUST PUKED ON SOMEONE'S PANTS, TALK TO YOU LATER
Mark smiles, just a hint. The keys are making quiet, rapid noises as he types out another line of code and sets up the layout.
Eduardo |
He’ll have to talk to his PR team about what the blurb of co-founder introduction should and should never include. But here’s the final jeopardy: how would you describe Eduardo Saverin? Mark’s fingers hover above the keys, their trembling barely noticeable. He doesn’t even know which tense to answer that question in, and the uncertainty is getting under his skin.
Eduardo. The name stares back at him from inside the screen, seven exotic letters in the midst of a familiar language. Mark rubs the ridge of his nose between his eyes and sits back on the chair, his empty stomach suddenly growing uneasy. He yanks his tie loose without much patience. The silky fabric makes a quiet noise under his grip.
Mark is just about to reach out to close the laptop when he hears the glass doors creaking open from behind. Then the soft sounds of footsteps, walking away from Mark to the other side of the table, seemingly unaware of his presence. The intruder has a familiar build and wears an expensive-looking shirt that he cannot identify the colour of. Red or green, then.
The other man turns around and takes a seat near the end of the table, his face dim under the soft lighting, but that’s enough for Mark to recognize him.
Well, Eduardo never wears red. Mark smiles, somewhat grimly to himself. He feels neither shock nor discomfort. He has been bracing himself for a time like this.
“Wardo.” Mark calls out. His tongue curls simply at the turn of the syllables, his voice still.
Eduardo doesn’t look up, swivels his chair around to face the windows. But Mark has caught a glimpse of his loosened collar, and the slight tremor in his shoulders. He can tell from the hair, too, the way it’s no longer slicked back and looks like he has walked outdoors; Eduardo’s been in a bar.
For Mark, it’s the little things that are hard not to pick up.
So he shuts his laptop and waits. Eventually Mark hears a deep sigh from across the table, the slight sound of Eduardo scratching his head, and his chair swiveling again. Mark can feel Eduardo’s eyes on him. He refuses to look back.
“I thought I might see you here.” Eduardo says, his Brazilian accent showing. Definitely drunk, then. “Doesn’t explain why I came back, though.”
“Drinking is supposed to be a form of celebration, Wardo.” Gretchen isn’t here to correct him, so he dares Eduardo to.
“Not drinking alone.”
Mark pauses. “Right.”
“The view is nice up here.” Eduardo makes a vague gesture to the span of blue behind the window.
“You’ve seen enough of it.” That came out sharper than he intended to.
“What? Did it make you uncomfortable in the deposition? Me turning away?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I should’ve done that.”
Mark doesn’t reply. Eduardo sighs, again, keeping back a yawn. His chin is cradled in his palm, his elbow propped on the table, as if deep in thought.
“Turning away, I mean. I’ve done that enough that summer, haven’t I?” Eduardo lets out a small laugh, shifting his gaze away, but now Mark’s eyes are fixed on him. “It was more than the continent, whatever came between us.”
Mark opens his mouth, he can’t think of anything else to say. So he states a fact. “You’re drunk.”
“So clever of you to notice.”
“And this is just drunk talk.” Eduardo doesn’t answer, sighs into his arm. “You know why I had to go to New York, right?”
“I know it has something to do with your dad.” Then he adds, “not that you ever told me.”
“I promised him to take the internship at his partner’s firm if he helped me with the incorporation papers. I should’ve said no.”
“You ended up quitting on your first day. If saying no to your father was supposed to make a difference-” Mark says quietly, balling his hands into fists under the table.
“I thought...” Eduardo raises his voice to interrupt him, stumbling over his words with an eagerness Mark used to know so well, “I thought it would give you more freedom. Advertising. I mean-at least we still have control over their sizes and layout and-the VC’s, they-they are gonna demand shares, Mark. And maybe seats on the board. I was...”
Mark can feel himself shaking under his skin. He was never really angry at Eduardo back then (except during the account freezing incident), just disappointed and frustrated, like the way you would feel towards a good friend who went through all the trouble to help you put together a really awesome party and decided to shut it down by eleven o’clock because he wanted to impose his curfew upon everyone else. But tonight, rage is swelling up in his chest, but Mark is not quite sure who, or what he is mad at.
Eduardo is struggling to find the right words. “Money was never the point for you. Sean got it wrong. It isn’t a billion dollars, it’s a billion users. If we somehow lived in a world where-” the blush in his face is brighter now, as if embarrassed about something he hasn’t said yet, “where somehow that isn’t worth a dime, you would still be proud of what Facebook is, Mark. And maybe in that world there wouldn’t be VC’s everywhere trying to buy chunks of the company from you. And you would really, for sure, have total control once and for all. But that’s not reality. In the real world, you need to be protected.”
Mark lets out a long exhale, but it’s no use. The pressure still looms in his chest, making his heart heavy. “And you’ve been going through the depositions, thinking all this?”
“This is just drunk talk.” Eduardo slumps into the bend of his elbow, with his eyes half-closed.
“Then what about the oops? The Sean’s biggest contribution to the company? Were they all Gretchen?”
Eduardo looks up and smiles a little. He is slurring now, with a noticeable Brazilian accent. “What difference would it make, Mark? Even if I quit this shitty deposition on the first day. We’re not...”
The rest of the words fade into drunken mumbles. A moment later Mark rises from his seat, and despite the stiffness in his lower back, he manages to walk over to Eduardo without a sound. The man passed out smells like a mixture of a range of liquors that Mark cannot identify, and the only noise in the room is the soft hum of the air conditioner. He unzips his hoodie and drapes it over Eduardo’s shoulders, after fishing his phone out of the pocket.
He pulls up the last text message received and hits “reply”.
TELL THE DRIVER NOT TO WAIT FOR ME, I NEED YOU TO PICK ME UP IT'S CODE RED
***
Mark hobbles down the steps with Eduardo’s unintelligible mumbles in his ear as soon as the silver Prius cruises into sight. For a code red rescue, Chris sure took longer than expected.
Chris steps out of the car, weary and wide-eyed, but otherwise calm and collected. Mark is somewhat disappointed that this didn’t get a bigger reaction out of him.
“Shit, this should be code double red. Nobody saw you guys together?”
Mark shakes his head and tries to nudge Eduardo into the back seat.
“Well, I’m gonna contact the head of security tomorrow. Can’t be too careful with the cameras.” He extends an arm to stop Mark from shoving Eduardo too hard. “Hey, Dustin’s in there.”
Then, as if on cue, the sound of a body shuffling and a dreamy grunt arise from the other side of the car. Mark groans with frustration. “Why didn’t you drop him off first?”
“His house is too far away.” Chris rolls his eyes, “and I think everyone would agree that Dustin in my back seat is a much smaller surprise than Eduardo on your arm.”
“You seem to handle it well.”
“Just another day on the job. Unless you count the fact that it’s-” Chris glances at the clock before he starts the engine, “12:07AM right now.”
Mark responds with the shutting of the car door, after he slips into the passenger seat. He hands Chris a card key found in Eduardo’s pocket. “Four Seasons Silicon Valley.”
Chris nods and makes a turn. The rear-view mirror reflects the image of Dustin leaning against the car window and Eduardo leaning on his arm.
Five minutes later, raindrops are sliding down the windshield without a sound. The night is blurred by a light drizzle.
***
“CUZ I’M ZERO TO SIXTY IN THREE POINT FIVE, BABY YOU GOT THE KEYSSSSSS SO SHUT UP AND DRIVE DRIVE DRIVEEEEEEE”
“Dustin, for the love of god!” The car stops at a red light and Chris turns back to snarl at his redheaded friend. He does regret buying Dustin that album for his last birthday now. “Keep it down and DON’T EVEN TRY THE EXTENDED NOTES!”
“Wow, I didn’t know he can do that.”
“Do what?”
“Dustin actually gets the lyrics right when he sings drunk.”
Dustin smiles, bleary-eyed. He leans forward to punch Mark’s shoulder. “Hi Marky Mark. Didn’t see ya there.”
The light changes. Chris steps on the gas hard enough to throw Dustin back into his seat with a surprised grunt. He glances at Mark quickly. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Rihanna was just an anonymous island girl when this lawsuit started. Look at her now.”
“Yeah.” Mark pauses. “And look at us.”
“I’M A FINETUNED SUPERSONIC SPEED MACHINEEEEEE WITH A SUNROOF TOP AND A GANGSTER LEAN” Dustin bursts out again, to the rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers. This time, neither of the two conscious people feels like stopping him.
“Eduardo was drunk.”
“I can see that.”
“He came back to the law office and talked to me.”
Chris tightens his grip around the steering wheel and frowns. “I wonder how many tequilas that took. What did he say?”
Dustin stops singing, pulls his knees up to his chins and burps.
“Stuff that he probably thought about a lot when he’s sober, but can only talk about drunk.”
“Stuff like he only wanted to protect you, and he shouldn’t have obeyed his father blindly, and he was partly responsible for this, too?” A gleam of surprise shines in Mark’s eyes, but only for a second.
“So you knew.” His voice is cold, and Dustin’s is wailing. “SO IF YOU FEEL ME LET ME KNOW KNOW KNOW, COME ON NOW WHAT YOU WAITING FOR FOR FOR”
Chris’s eyes are fixed on the road. “Of course I did, Mark. You knew my boyfriend back then was in the Phoenix. And my life wasn’t only about Facebook and schoolwork.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “The million-member party had taught me, if anything, that I shouldn’t turn my back on a friend.”
Mark waits for him to continue. “He didn’t have a lot of friends. Everybody liked him, sure, but he was lonely. It was easy for me to tell because his eyes didn’t look the same. So I never turned him down when he asked me if I want to grab a drink, even though I should’ve listened to Dustin and left both of you to fuck yourselves from coast to coast. He avoided mentioning your name like a plague when he was sober, but after a few drinks he would ask me about Facebook and I would try not to talk about it. But somehow the conversation would always find its way back to Kirkland, back to that spring and that summer. Back to his father, and back to you.” He pauses. “To be fair, Dustin and I never took sides. Even-”
“I GOT CLASS LIKE A 57 CADILLAC, GOT ALL THE DRIVE BUT A WHOLE LOT OF BOOM IN THE BACK, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAN HANDLE WHAT’S UNDER MY HOOD- ”
“Oh for fuck’s sake-”
Chris growls and makes a sudden turn into the parking lot of a plaza, causing horns to blare all around them. Eduardo moans when his head bumps into the window, then slips back into half-consciousness as his head slumps down. Dustin is singing the chorus now.
“SO SHUT UP AND DRIVE DRIVE DRIVEEEEEEEE SHUT UP AND DRIVE AND DRI-”
Chris parks the car with a sharp screech of the tires. He yanks the key out of ignition and turns around, lifting his knee up to the driver’s seat. Once he’s steadied himself, Chris reaches forward and pulls Dustin close by the collar. Or as close as he can get with Dustin’s seat belt still strapped.
“Listen, you asshole,” the words come out through his gritted teeth, “I know you’re drunk and probably haven’t heard one thing I said to Mark, but you need to keep your damn mouth shut for the rest of this ride, okay? Don’t you remember how long we’ve been trying to get them to recognize what happened as it is? Well, the opportunity has presented itself and I am not, I am not keeping this in anymore. It’s past midnight, and I haven’t had proper sleep in twenty hours, and I hate everybody in this car and it has to end tonight. So there you have it, I have stopped driving, and I am not gonna shut up. Deal with it.”
By the time he lets Dustin drop back into his seat, the ginger programmer has passed out with a roll of his eyes.
“Wow.” Mark says under his breath as Chris sits back down. “I didn’t know you can do that.”
Chris smiles humourlessly, the intense focus in his sharp blue eyes making Mark a little shifty. “You didn’t know I can, or you knew I can but didn’t think I would actually do it?”
***
Mark takes the tie off and wraps it around his forearm. It’s been hanging loosely around his neck long enough, but he amends the sloppiness only now. Only when Chris is not even looking at him, but Mark knows the man’s full attention is pinned on him.
“Mountain Dew?” Chris passes the can to him. They’re sitting on the edge of a cement flowerbed in front of a 24-hour convenience store, keeping a distance equivalent of the length of a small bag of Cheetos. The Prius is parked in the front, with Eduardo and Dustin locked inside.
Mark takes the can for a sip. “Are you keeping an eye on the car?”
Chris shrugs and pops a Cheeto in his mouth, licking his finger. “It’s fine.”
Mark shifts a little to face Chris, his forefinger extended while holding the soda can. "So, about what you were saying-"
Chris interrupts him. "I didn't tell you about this because by that time Eduardo was already filling out papers, shopping around for lawyers, that kind of stuff. He was decent enough not to avoid me, as awkward as it had been, but I didn't feel like I was in the position to tell you about his behaviour when he was drunk. Besides, he was clearly confused about it himself." He grabs the Mountain Dew from Mark and takes a swig. "The first time it happened I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I kind of joked about it the next time I saw him, like how someone must’ve slipped him a pill to get him to talk so weirdly. He just gave me this dumbstruck look and excused himself."
"To a meeting with his lawyers, perhaps." Mark says dryly.
"You didn't know him during that time of his life." Chris's voice suddenly turns harsh, and his eyes move to meet Mark's. "He was a light switch between angry and tired, but he never showed how much it was wearing on him. But anyway," The PR director clears his throat, "a couple of months later we met up at a bar again, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Turned out he lost some money the last time he bet on oil futures, and his father was pissed off about him asking to borrow money from the family to pay the start-up legal fees."
Mark’s eyes darken. He picks up the soda but doesn’t drink, just squeezes the can in his hand, bites his lips and says nothing.
“I tried to comfort him, but there really wasn’t anything I could do. So I bought him some beers and we drank for a while. In the end he fell face flat on the counter. I carried him back to his room, and he was mumbling non-stop on our way back to Harvard, stuff like how he regretted not listening to you when he had your attention. He wouldn’t stop saying your name. And this time, I knew it was serious. Except when I called him the next day, he told me he didn’t recall anything I mentioned. He sounded guarded as soon as your name came up.”
“The denial I understand. But why do you think he would say it in the first place?” Mark asks.
“The same reason you’re more than a little unsettled by his words. I don’t know what’s the fucking deal between you two, but...” Chris pauses. “I know it isn’t a fucking deal, because if you slept together I would’ve known.”
“That’s comforting.” Chris smiles a little. “Yeah. Wait. You didn’t, right?”
Mark shakes his head, looking away. “No.” A beat. “Thanks for keeping an eye on Eduardo.”
“Yeah. Even if you didn’t want me to, I would’ve done it anyway. Just so I’d have the chance to tell you about it one day. There is no way to settle it all without looking at both sides, Mark, feud and friendship alike.” Chris drains the Mountain Dew. “You can choose which one you wish to end. Try not to be an asshole about it. The opposing side is already pseudo-bipolar.”
“We should get him back to the hotel.” Mark jumps off the cement fixture and starts walking towards the Prius.
Chris shakes his head. “Maybe I should just rig the car and let carbon monoxide do the job.”
By the time he unlocks the car Dustin is pounding on the car window and yelling in a hushed whisper. “Dude! We have to hide Wardo! What if he wakes up and sees Mark!” The way he eyes Mark is not so subtle at all.
Chris and Mark ignore him and share a drive-first-explain-later look as Chris drives out of the plaza.
***
They arrive at Four Seasons at around two, telling the front desk that they’re just taking him back from a wild engagement party (the fact that Dustin flirts with the receptionist while reeking of alcohol has certainly helped the lie). It’s like pretending to be Eduardo’s friends, except they aren’t pretending.
“For a single suite this is actually very roomy,” Dustin flops onto the neatly made queen bed despite Eduardo being the one who needs to lie down.
“Feeling better already, Moskovitz?” Chris asks sarcastically after kicking off his shoes and kicking his feet onto the ottoman. He yawns and closes his eyes, nuzzling a cushion on the couch.
“Rihanna does wonders for drunkenness. Plus, I didn’t actually drink that much, I puked it all out,” Dustin replies in a cheerful tone. Beside him, Mark has retrieved his hoodie before lifting Eduardo’s legs onto the mattress.
“So the depositions are finally all over?” Dustin asks, flipping over so he’s lying on his stomach. Mark sits down at the foot of the bed and rubs his temples.
“Yeah. Eduardo will get his money by next week.”
“Then you’re finished.” Dustin states flatly.
Mark picks at the linen sheets. He hasn’t quite realized what a long night this has been until now. “On paper, yeah.”
“But you’re not.” Dustin says quietly. Chris seems to have fallen asleep on the other side of the room. His steady breathing is the only noise filling the silence now. “You talked to Chris about it?”
Mark nods. “When you were passed out and locked in the car with Wardo.”
“All the stuff that happened in Harvard when we were in Palo Alto?”
“Yeah.”
“You know it really took a toll on Chris.” Dustin rolls off the bed and grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. “Keeping it all in and pretending it’s all fucking history. Hanging out with Eduardo when he’s planning to sue you. Chris probably brushed it over like it wasn’t important when he talked to you, but it was a big deal. And he did it for you and Eduardo because he believed you two still had a chance, that moron.” Dustin wipes his mouth after taking a swig of water. “I told Chris to leave you and Eduardo alone because you two had clearly made your fucking choices, you when you decided to dilute Eduardo’s shares, Eduardo when he decided to sue you. But he wouldn’t listen. He said you would want to know what was going on with Eduardo, although I thought he was just crazy. Eduardo was probably crazy too, judging by the shit he says when he’s drunk.” Dustin narrows his eyes. “Yeah, actually, come to think of it, you were pretty wacky in Palo Alto around that time too.”
Mark sits up taller, pointing his finger at Dustin as if to defend himself. “That was a difficult period for Facebook and you know it, Dustin, so don’t give me crap.”
Dustin laughs. “Yeah. Without Sean as president you actually had to learn how to deal with the corporate people. Oh man. Remember your how to be CEO PR lessons? Chris would’ve died if he saw you in class.”
“Shut up.” Mark groans. He had to give up coding for two weeks because of that PR boot camp and he does not appreciate being reminded of that.
“Don’t sweat it, old chap,” Dustin waltzes over and pats him on the shoulder. “Your worst memories are safe with me.” He sighs contently then frowns. “What was I talking about again?”
“You were saying how dickish Eduardo and I were and how much we made Chris suffer.” Mark reminds him without any expression.
“Right.” Dustin sets down the water bottle, his face going blank as he counts the number of expletives he has already used. “Just to be clear, this is the tequila shots from Vicky’s engagement party talking. Please don’t fire me.”
“I’m not making any promises,” Mark fights back a yawn, “but you should continue.”
Dustin nods. “So how exactly did Eduardo end up in Chris’s car? Did you catch them hooking up or something?”
“Jesus Christ,” Mark swears under his breath. Were the four of them really that-whatever-homoerotic in college that their older selves find it necessary to speculate about it all the time? “No. I found Eduardo drunk in the deposition room and called Chris to take him back to the hotel.”
Dustin snorts at the ridiculousness that Mark just attempted to brush over. “Okay, Mark. Clearly you haven’t had a proper girlfriend in too long, because you’re really bad at this explaining yourself thing. I’ll ask Chris for the scoop later.”
Mark just gives him a deadpan stare. Dustin sighs and reaches out his hand. “Give me your laptop.”
“Why?”
“I need to show you something important. Come on.”
“Dustin,” Mark draws a long breath. His mind is more tired than his body, and while he doesn’t feel like falling asleep, the night has worn him out. For the past few months, years, he has been warring with his past. In the deposition rooms, in the Facebook offices, in the way nobody mentions Eduardo’s name when within his earshot, and somehow, it all comes down to Eduardo’s hotel room before the dawn of day. The choice is between to settle and to lose.
Mark can’t win, but he isn’t ready to be defeated either.
He hands over the laptop wordlessly, watching Dustin sitting on the edge of the bed and booting it up. A couple of keystrokes after, Dustin turns the laptop screen towards him. The browser shows the inbox of Eduardo’s email.
“You hacked his email?” Mark looks up from the screen, his voice half-amused with a hint of approval.
Usually Dustin would’ve smiled smugly in return, but he doesn’t. “Check the third one.”
Mark finds it, and for a moment he is genuinely puzzled. The title says this is an email confirmation for the ticket Eduardo booked with Singapore Air.
It’s probably for a business trip, Mark tells himself as he clicks the link, but then he starts reading. Eduardo has booked a one-way ticket. The date of the flight is exactly one week from now.
“So now you know what you’re fighting.” Dustin murmurs to himself and Mark smiles grimly. Yes, he is only fighting time, fighting the plane that’s taking off a week from now, fighting the settlement papers that will be presented tomorrow. No big deal.
“You should really talk to him before he leaves, you know. We might not see him in a while.”
“And what? Try to make it up to him? Say I’m sorry? Pretend he was not my best friend?” Mark stands up and shuts down the laptop. “I’m getting out of here before Eduardo wakes up.”
“No, Mark, you’re not going anywhere.” Dustin looks him straight in the eye and slowly, slowly produces a keychain from his pocket. It’s Chris’s, with the key of the Prius on it.
“Where did you learn to pick pockets?” Mark narrows his eyes and Dustin rolls his.
“The Internet, duh.”
“What do you want from me, Dustin?”
“I want you to stay here, wait till Wardo wakes up, and continue where you left off.”
Mark smirks with a sadness he doesn’t quite know. The way Dustin put it almost makes the past few years sound like a bad dream. As if a glass of water and some deep breaths later, everything will be back to the way it was.
“He was your best friend, Mark,” Dustin says as he coaxes the half-asleep Chris onto his feet, supports him by the shoulder, and hobbles toward the door. “And he will be, if you just give it a shot. Do you really believe that nothing happens for a reason? Is it really a coincidence that he got drunk the night before the lawsuit is officially closed? God, I can’t believe I’m spelling this out for you. Even though Wardo probably won’t admit it, he does believe in what he says, even though it kills him when he’s sober. Maybe he’s flying to Singapore just because he can’t keep it in anymore. Maybe he only needs you to give him a chance so he can actually speak his mind. Maybe you need that chance yourself, who knows. I don’t care if you make up or still hate each other after this, but at least I’d know you tried.”
Dustin takes a deep breath and looks back at Mark as he opens the door of the suite. “So don’t let me and Chris down again, Mark. I don’t think we can take another blow that hard.”
Mark watches Dustin close the door and disappear with Chris on his arm. His face feels numb and his neck makes the slightest cracking noise when he turns around to face Eduardo, whose face is buried in the pillow. He sits back on the bed again, feeling somewhat like a creep even though he used to watch Eduardo nap on his bed all the time while coding in his room. Except Mark knows Eduardo is not asleep anymore.
“You heard him,” Mark takes a deep breath. “We should pick up where we left off.”
Eduardo doesn’t turn around, and his voice sounds muffled. “I can’t believe you let Dustin off with hacking my email so easily.”
“I assure you there will be a cut on his bonus sometime this year. And yes, there would’ve been a difference if you quit the depositions on the first day.”
“Jesus Christ.” Eduardo sits up and looks at him, his shirt crumpled and his eyes weary.
“Don’t go to-” Mark cuts himself short, recalling all the PR and management lessons about communications he’d taken. “I mean, you shouldn’t go to Singapore.”
“Don’t screw with me now, Mark.” Eduardo’s voice is cold, “you are the last person who has the right to tell me what to do.”
“It would’ve made a difference, Wardo. If you called off the depositions and told me you only looked for advertising interests because you wanted me to retain control over the company, I would’ve listened.” Mark swallows at the end of this sentence. He’s getting nervous.
Eduardo just looks at him with tired eyes. “You didn’t have the best records when it comes to listening, Mark. I’m not sure why I would want to take that chance. I didn’t want to admit to Chris about all my drunk talk, because as much as I knew it was the truth, if I admitted it when I was sober, he was gonna tell you about it, thinking I was ready to forgive you. And I wasn’t ready. I would rather go through a lawsuit than listen to a fake apology.”
Mark steels himself in the face of this accusation. “But the lawsuit didn’t bring the closure you wanted, or else you wouldn’t have gone and gotten drunk. Look, Wardo, you weren’t the only one who turned away. I should’ve filled you in on the meetings Sean set up. I shouldn’t have forgotten to pick you up at the airport. I should’ve let you know that I was unhappy about you devoting so much of your time to the Phoenix while you only offered money to Facebook, and barely anything else.”
“And the advertising.” Eduardo adds quietly. Mark imagines Eduardo would’ve flipped at the sound of his words and taken it as insulting belittlement, but Eduardo doesn’t. It probably has to do with the fact that it’s currently 3AM.
“And the advertising.” repeats Mark. “Facebook has that now.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Good.” Mark nods, relaxed at the notion that Eduardo still uses Facebook, and the words fall right out of his mouth. “I didn’t end up losing a lot of control over the company. But you were right about that being a hazard in the early days of the company, when we were still seeking stable financial support. Sean helped me secure three seats on the board and without that control-” he smirks at the memory, “Facebook would probably be owned by Google or Microsoft right now.”
“You still kicked Sean out.” Eduardo looks up at him through his lashes.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t just...” Mark shakes his head. “There is a time for everything and everyone. He wasn’t the only one who left Facebook for good reasons during that period.”
Eduardo smirks. “Does it ever occur to you, Mark, that people generally don’t stay around very long because you’re not someone who can keep them around? And what do you mean by a time for everyone? A time when people allow them to be used, and a time when they don’t allow it anymore and you just leave them behind? I never thought you would hold me and Sean Parker on the same level, Mark. Not even when I hated you the most.”
Mark freezes, his eyebrows furrowed in an almost instinctive defensiveness. If this is someone who left Facebook because they wanted to be the succeeding CEO, he would’ve tossed a few sardonic remarks and moved on. But this is Eduardo. So Mark bites his lips and swallow the words.
Eduardo watches him, waiting. Eventually, Mark speaks out, his voice low but sincere.
“There was a time when you were the greatest CFO I could ask for, Eduardo. I might not have acknowledged it back then, but it was true. You gave me enough money to take Facebook to Palo Alto, and you handled the legal papers regarding incorporating Facebook in Florida to the best of your ability. And then there was a time when I needed you in California but you hardly listened to me. The same goes for Sean. There was a time when he took me to negotiations with VC’s and fought hard for my absolute power as the founder, and then there was a time when Facebook matured into a real corporation, and Sean’s precarious style no longer fit in. But that was the business end of things, Eduardo. The decisions I made under those premises have absolutely zero bearing on my personal relationship with you, and with Sean. Of course it was wrong of me to cut you out without proper warnings, but I was too blinded to know how wrong it was back then. I will pay the price for that mistake at the settlement presentation tomorrow. But Eduardo,” Mark pauses. The words he says next are barely louder than a whisper. “I know you only wanted the best for me and for Facebook back then, even though nobody understood. The fact that you came to find me tonight is proof that you’ve thought about where we went wrong, and you want to fix us. I want that too.”
“I was drunk, Mark.” Eduardo looks away, his expression unfathomable.
“I know.” A beat. “But you’re still you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Eduardo smiles, really smiles this time.”Really, Mark? How would you know if I’ve changed?”
Mark shifts his eyes. “I’m willing to find out, if you don’t mind.”
“Come on, then.” Eduardo jumps off the bed, “I’m hungry and there’s a twenty-four hour buffet downstairs.”
Mark looks startled by the offer, but eventually he nods and follows Eduardo into the empty elevator.
“So are you still gonna go to Singapore?” He can’t keep the question in.
Eduardo ponders for a moment before answering, “I’ll reconsider, depending on how this meal goes.”
Mark nods with a hint of smile. When the elevator stops, he experiences that familiar feeling of weightlessness.
That’s how it must feel to have been expunged of all of one’s baggage, Mark thinks to himself as he follows Eduardo into the hall. The feeling of closure finally hits home.
***
A few days after that “fateful night” (dubbed by Dustin), Dustin calls out to Mark as the CEO walks past his office.
“Hey, Mark, check this out.”
“Not now, Dustin.” Mark keeps walking. Dustin dashes out to stop him, and leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Eduardo has a surprise for you.”
Dustin grins triumphantly as Mark does a 180 and walks into his office. On the laptop screen is the layout of Eduardo’s inbox, again.
Except this time, the first email heading says, cancellation of tickets from Singapore Air.
“I think it’s safe to presume that you will get a call some time soon,” Dustin pats Mark’s back and sighs happily.
Mark deadpans, “back to work, Dustin.” But his eyes are smiling. Then he leaves Dustin’s office and continues walking down the hallway in the same shuffling gait.
Chris, who is sitting in a nearby open cubicle, watches Mark disappear around the corner. Then he turns to Dustin, who is whirling around in his spinny chair with a cup of coffee. They share a knowing smile across the hallway.
“I wonder where our raise is.”
“In Eduardo’s pocket somewhere, probably.”
pairing/characters: Mark/Eduardo (pre-slash), Mark/Eduardo/Dustin/Chris (bromance)
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: ~6,500
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
summary: On the night before the deposition officially ends, Mark finds a drunk Eduardo in the room.
notes: Thank you, zinkini, for holding my hand through this and cheering me on. Thank you, goldendoods, for a beta job well done.
Title from Justin Nozuka's If I Gave You My Life.
Mark Zuckerberg rarely makes plans for his evenings; even less so in the past couple of weeks, when he was in the final stages of fulfilling his role as a professional defendant like the CEO that he is. Yesterday his lawyers sat through another reading of the drafted settlement with the other side and made the much-bargained changes; the revised copy will be presented officially tomorrow. If that is supposed to bring Mark closure, he has yet to feel it.
Technically, Mark is no longer being deposed. The litigation phase is over, and he is not required to come to this torture chamber of chrome and glass anymore. Really, it’s not like this lawsuit gave him Stockholm Syndrome, but he insisted on seeing his team of lawyers in person anyhow. Sy assured him multiple times that everything is going smoothly; Mark just shrugged and asked Marilyn to pass him a copy of the non-disclosure agreement. It wasn’t impossible to decode the look she gave him, but he refused to try.
It’s 10:30PM right now. The night guy downstairs nodded Mark good evening when he came up to check the locks, and Mark is ready to stay in the building till midnight. He looks up from the laptop screen. The blinds are opened; vast shades of blue staggered between thin bars of white, littered by the city light. This is the only time of the day when Mark actually looks at this city, from an angle up high and impersonal: it’s the way he sees at most things in his life now, the much too affordable ones.
Mark turns back to the command screen of Facebook. The last clause of the final draft is still fresh in his mind’s eye, restore Eduardo Saverin’s name on the Facebook masthead. Judging from Sy’s face in the afternoon, Gretchen fought pretty hard for that one.
She shouldn’t have to, Mark thinks as he navigates to the editing screen in half a second. He glances the neat blocks of text and the three names in bold, his hands perfectly steady as he lays his fingers out on the keyboard, eyes half-closed. The name he is required to add used to be expected and almost unthinking, like the elasticity of black keys under the pads of his fingers.
Enter.
The cell phone chirps before he finishes writing the new line. Mark picks it up, and the text from Chris reads, IS IT ALMOST DONE?
Mark hits the reply button, his unkempt fingernails slipping on the keypad every other letter: IT WILL CLOSE TOMORROW, BE BACK ON SUNDAY
- GOOD. I'M AT VICKY'S ENGAGEMENT PARTY AND DUSTIN IS KILLING ME
- DRUNK?
- LIKE PARIS HILTON IF SHE'S A PEGLEGGED SAILOR. GONNA DRIVE HIM HOME IN A MINUTE - SHIT HE JUST PUKED ON SOMEONE'S PANTS, TALK TO YOU LATER
Mark smiles, just a hint. The keys are making quiet, rapid noises as he types out another line of code and sets up the layout.
Eduardo |
He’ll have to talk to his PR team about what the blurb of co-founder introduction should and should never include. But here’s the final jeopardy: how would you describe Eduardo Saverin? Mark’s fingers hover above the keys, their trembling barely noticeable. He doesn’t even know which tense to answer that question in, and the uncertainty is getting under his skin.
Eduardo. The name stares back at him from inside the screen, seven exotic letters in the midst of a familiar language. Mark rubs the ridge of his nose between his eyes and sits back on the chair, his empty stomach suddenly growing uneasy. He yanks his tie loose without much patience. The silky fabric makes a quiet noise under his grip.
Mark is just about to reach out to close the laptop when he hears the glass doors creaking open from behind. Then the soft sounds of footsteps, walking away from Mark to the other side of the table, seemingly unaware of his presence. The intruder has a familiar build and wears an expensive-looking shirt that he cannot identify the colour of. Red or green, then.
The other man turns around and takes a seat near the end of the table, his face dim under the soft lighting, but that’s enough for Mark to recognize him.
Well, Eduardo never wears red. Mark smiles, somewhat grimly to himself. He feels neither shock nor discomfort. He has been bracing himself for a time like this.
“Wardo.” Mark calls out. His tongue curls simply at the turn of the syllables, his voice still.
Eduardo doesn’t look up, swivels his chair around to face the windows. But Mark has caught a glimpse of his loosened collar, and the slight tremor in his shoulders. He can tell from the hair, too, the way it’s no longer slicked back and looks like he has walked outdoors; Eduardo’s been in a bar.
For Mark, it’s the little things that are hard not to pick up.
So he shuts his laptop and waits. Eventually Mark hears a deep sigh from across the table, the slight sound of Eduardo scratching his head, and his chair swiveling again. Mark can feel Eduardo’s eyes on him. He refuses to look back.
“I thought I might see you here.” Eduardo says, his Brazilian accent showing. Definitely drunk, then. “Doesn’t explain why I came back, though.”
“Drinking is supposed to be a form of celebration, Wardo.” Gretchen isn’t here to correct him, so he dares Eduardo to.
“Not drinking alone.”
Mark pauses. “Right.”
“The view is nice up here.” Eduardo makes a vague gesture to the span of blue behind the window.
“You’ve seen enough of it.” That came out sharper than he intended to.
“What? Did it make you uncomfortable in the deposition? Me turning away?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I should’ve done that.”
Mark doesn’t reply. Eduardo sighs, again, keeping back a yawn. His chin is cradled in his palm, his elbow propped on the table, as if deep in thought.
“Turning away, I mean. I’ve done that enough that summer, haven’t I?” Eduardo lets out a small laugh, shifting his gaze away, but now Mark’s eyes are fixed on him. “It was more than the continent, whatever came between us.”
Mark opens his mouth, he can’t think of anything else to say. So he states a fact. “You’re drunk.”
“So clever of you to notice.”
“And this is just drunk talk.” Eduardo doesn’t answer, sighs into his arm. “You know why I had to go to New York, right?”
“I know it has something to do with your dad.” Then he adds, “not that you ever told me.”
“I promised him to take the internship at his partner’s firm if he helped me with the incorporation papers. I should’ve said no.”
“You ended up quitting on your first day. If saying no to your father was supposed to make a difference-” Mark says quietly, balling his hands into fists under the table.
“I thought...” Eduardo raises his voice to interrupt him, stumbling over his words with an eagerness Mark used to know so well, “I thought it would give you more freedom. Advertising. I mean-at least we still have control over their sizes and layout and-the VC’s, they-they are gonna demand shares, Mark. And maybe seats on the board. I was...”
Mark can feel himself shaking under his skin. He was never really angry at Eduardo back then (except during the account freezing incident), just disappointed and frustrated, like the way you would feel towards a good friend who went through all the trouble to help you put together a really awesome party and decided to shut it down by eleven o’clock because he wanted to impose his curfew upon everyone else. But tonight, rage is swelling up in his chest, but Mark is not quite sure who, or what he is mad at.
Eduardo is struggling to find the right words. “Money was never the point for you. Sean got it wrong. It isn’t a billion dollars, it’s a billion users. If we somehow lived in a world where-” the blush in his face is brighter now, as if embarrassed about something he hasn’t said yet, “where somehow that isn’t worth a dime, you would still be proud of what Facebook is, Mark. And maybe in that world there wouldn’t be VC’s everywhere trying to buy chunks of the company from you. And you would really, for sure, have total control once and for all. But that’s not reality. In the real world, you need to be protected.”
Mark lets out a long exhale, but it’s no use. The pressure still looms in his chest, making his heart heavy. “And you’ve been going through the depositions, thinking all this?”
“This is just drunk talk.” Eduardo slumps into the bend of his elbow, with his eyes half-closed.
“Then what about the oops? The Sean’s biggest contribution to the company? Were they all Gretchen?”
Eduardo looks up and smiles a little. He is slurring now, with a noticeable Brazilian accent. “What difference would it make, Mark? Even if I quit this shitty deposition on the first day. We’re not...”
The rest of the words fade into drunken mumbles. A moment later Mark rises from his seat, and despite the stiffness in his lower back, he manages to walk over to Eduardo without a sound. The man passed out smells like a mixture of a range of liquors that Mark cannot identify, and the only noise in the room is the soft hum of the air conditioner. He unzips his hoodie and drapes it over Eduardo’s shoulders, after fishing his phone out of the pocket.
He pulls up the last text message received and hits “reply”.
TELL THE DRIVER NOT TO WAIT FOR ME, I NEED YOU TO PICK ME UP IT'S CODE RED
***
Mark hobbles down the steps with Eduardo’s unintelligible mumbles in his ear as soon as the silver Prius cruises into sight. For a code red rescue, Chris sure took longer than expected.
Chris steps out of the car, weary and wide-eyed, but otherwise calm and collected. Mark is somewhat disappointed that this didn’t get a bigger reaction out of him.
“Shit, this should be code double red. Nobody saw you guys together?”
Mark shakes his head and tries to nudge Eduardo into the back seat.
“Well, I’m gonna contact the head of security tomorrow. Can’t be too careful with the cameras.” He extends an arm to stop Mark from shoving Eduardo too hard. “Hey, Dustin’s in there.”
Then, as if on cue, the sound of a body shuffling and a dreamy grunt arise from the other side of the car. Mark groans with frustration. “Why didn’t you drop him off first?”
“His house is too far away.” Chris rolls his eyes, “and I think everyone would agree that Dustin in my back seat is a much smaller surprise than Eduardo on your arm.”
“You seem to handle it well.”
“Just another day on the job. Unless you count the fact that it’s-” Chris glances at the clock before he starts the engine, “12:07AM right now.”
Mark responds with the shutting of the car door, after he slips into the passenger seat. He hands Chris a card key found in Eduardo’s pocket. “Four Seasons Silicon Valley.”
Chris nods and makes a turn. The rear-view mirror reflects the image of Dustin leaning against the car window and Eduardo leaning on his arm.
Five minutes later, raindrops are sliding down the windshield without a sound. The night is blurred by a light drizzle.
***
“CUZ I’M ZERO TO SIXTY IN THREE POINT FIVE, BABY YOU GOT THE KEYSSSSSS SO SHUT UP AND DRIVE DRIVE DRIVEEEEEEE”
“Dustin, for the love of god!” The car stops at a red light and Chris turns back to snarl at his redheaded friend. He does regret buying Dustin that album for his last birthday now. “Keep it down and DON’T EVEN TRY THE EXTENDED NOTES!”
“Wow, I didn’t know he can do that.”
“Do what?”
“Dustin actually gets the lyrics right when he sings drunk.”
Dustin smiles, bleary-eyed. He leans forward to punch Mark’s shoulder. “Hi Marky Mark. Didn’t see ya there.”
The light changes. Chris steps on the gas hard enough to throw Dustin back into his seat with a surprised grunt. He glances at Mark quickly. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Rihanna was just an anonymous island girl when this lawsuit started. Look at her now.”
“Yeah.” Mark pauses. “And look at us.”
“I’M A FINETUNED SUPERSONIC SPEED MACHINEEEEEE WITH A SUNROOF TOP AND A GANGSTER LEAN” Dustin bursts out again, to the rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers. This time, neither of the two conscious people feels like stopping him.
“Eduardo was drunk.”
“I can see that.”
“He came back to the law office and talked to me.”
Chris tightens his grip around the steering wheel and frowns. “I wonder how many tequilas that took. What did he say?”
Dustin stops singing, pulls his knees up to his chins and burps.
“Stuff that he probably thought about a lot when he’s sober, but can only talk about drunk.”
“Stuff like he only wanted to protect you, and he shouldn’t have obeyed his father blindly, and he was partly responsible for this, too?” A gleam of surprise shines in Mark’s eyes, but only for a second.
“So you knew.” His voice is cold, and Dustin’s is wailing. “SO IF YOU FEEL ME LET ME KNOW KNOW KNOW, COME ON NOW WHAT YOU WAITING FOR FOR FOR”
Chris’s eyes are fixed on the road. “Of course I did, Mark. You knew my boyfriend back then was in the Phoenix. And my life wasn’t only about Facebook and schoolwork.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “The million-member party had taught me, if anything, that I shouldn’t turn my back on a friend.”
Mark waits for him to continue. “He didn’t have a lot of friends. Everybody liked him, sure, but he was lonely. It was easy for me to tell because his eyes didn’t look the same. So I never turned him down when he asked me if I want to grab a drink, even though I should’ve listened to Dustin and left both of you to fuck yourselves from coast to coast. He avoided mentioning your name like a plague when he was sober, but after a few drinks he would ask me about Facebook and I would try not to talk about it. But somehow the conversation would always find its way back to Kirkland, back to that spring and that summer. Back to his father, and back to you.” He pauses. “To be fair, Dustin and I never took sides. Even-”
“I GOT CLASS LIKE A 57 CADILLAC, GOT ALL THE DRIVE BUT A WHOLE LOT OF BOOM IN THE BACK, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAN HANDLE WHAT’S UNDER MY HOOD- ”
“Oh for fuck’s sake-”
Chris growls and makes a sudden turn into the parking lot of a plaza, causing horns to blare all around them. Eduardo moans when his head bumps into the window, then slips back into half-consciousness as his head slumps down. Dustin is singing the chorus now.
“SO SHUT UP AND DRIVE DRIVE DRIVEEEEEEEE SHUT UP AND DRIVE AND DRI-”
Chris parks the car with a sharp screech of the tires. He yanks the key out of ignition and turns around, lifting his knee up to the driver’s seat. Once he’s steadied himself, Chris reaches forward and pulls Dustin close by the collar. Or as close as he can get with Dustin’s seat belt still strapped.
“Listen, you asshole,” the words come out through his gritted teeth, “I know you’re drunk and probably haven’t heard one thing I said to Mark, but you need to keep your damn mouth shut for the rest of this ride, okay? Don’t you remember how long we’ve been trying to get them to recognize what happened as it is? Well, the opportunity has presented itself and I am not, I am not keeping this in anymore. It’s past midnight, and I haven’t had proper sleep in twenty hours, and I hate everybody in this car and it has to end tonight. So there you have it, I have stopped driving, and I am not gonna shut up. Deal with it.”
By the time he lets Dustin drop back into his seat, the ginger programmer has passed out with a roll of his eyes.
“Wow.” Mark says under his breath as Chris sits back down. “I didn’t know you can do that.”
Chris smiles humourlessly, the intense focus in his sharp blue eyes making Mark a little shifty. “You didn’t know I can, or you knew I can but didn’t think I would actually do it?”
***
Mark takes the tie off and wraps it around his forearm. It’s been hanging loosely around his neck long enough, but he amends the sloppiness only now. Only when Chris is not even looking at him, but Mark knows the man’s full attention is pinned on him.
“Mountain Dew?” Chris passes the can to him. They’re sitting on the edge of a cement flowerbed in front of a 24-hour convenience store, keeping a distance equivalent of the length of a small bag of Cheetos. The Prius is parked in the front, with Eduardo and Dustin locked inside.
Mark takes the can for a sip. “Are you keeping an eye on the car?”
Chris shrugs and pops a Cheeto in his mouth, licking his finger. “It’s fine.”
Mark shifts a little to face Chris, his forefinger extended while holding the soda can. "So, about what you were saying-"
Chris interrupts him. "I didn't tell you about this because by that time Eduardo was already filling out papers, shopping around for lawyers, that kind of stuff. He was decent enough not to avoid me, as awkward as it had been, but I didn't feel like I was in the position to tell you about his behaviour when he was drunk. Besides, he was clearly confused about it himself." He grabs the Mountain Dew from Mark and takes a swig. "The first time it happened I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I kind of joked about it the next time I saw him, like how someone must’ve slipped him a pill to get him to talk so weirdly. He just gave me this dumbstruck look and excused himself."
"To a meeting with his lawyers, perhaps." Mark says dryly.
"You didn't know him during that time of his life." Chris's voice suddenly turns harsh, and his eyes move to meet Mark's. "He was a light switch between angry and tired, but he never showed how much it was wearing on him. But anyway," The PR director clears his throat, "a couple of months later we met up at a bar again, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Turned out he lost some money the last time he bet on oil futures, and his father was pissed off about him asking to borrow money from the family to pay the start-up legal fees."
Mark’s eyes darken. He picks up the soda but doesn’t drink, just squeezes the can in his hand, bites his lips and says nothing.
“I tried to comfort him, but there really wasn’t anything I could do. So I bought him some beers and we drank for a while. In the end he fell face flat on the counter. I carried him back to his room, and he was mumbling non-stop on our way back to Harvard, stuff like how he regretted not listening to you when he had your attention. He wouldn’t stop saying your name. And this time, I knew it was serious. Except when I called him the next day, he told me he didn’t recall anything I mentioned. He sounded guarded as soon as your name came up.”
“The denial I understand. But why do you think he would say it in the first place?” Mark asks.
“The same reason you’re more than a little unsettled by his words. I don’t know what’s the fucking deal between you two, but...” Chris pauses. “I know it isn’t a fucking deal, because if you slept together I would’ve known.”
“That’s comforting.” Chris smiles a little. “Yeah. Wait. You didn’t, right?”
Mark shakes his head, looking away. “No.” A beat. “Thanks for keeping an eye on Eduardo.”
“Yeah. Even if you didn’t want me to, I would’ve done it anyway. Just so I’d have the chance to tell you about it one day. There is no way to settle it all without looking at both sides, Mark, feud and friendship alike.” Chris drains the Mountain Dew. “You can choose which one you wish to end. Try not to be an asshole about it. The opposing side is already pseudo-bipolar.”
“We should get him back to the hotel.” Mark jumps off the cement fixture and starts walking towards the Prius.
Chris shakes his head. “Maybe I should just rig the car and let carbon monoxide do the job.”
By the time he unlocks the car Dustin is pounding on the car window and yelling in a hushed whisper. “Dude! We have to hide Wardo! What if he wakes up and sees Mark!” The way he eyes Mark is not so subtle at all.
Chris and Mark ignore him and share a drive-first-explain-later look as Chris drives out of the plaza.
***
They arrive at Four Seasons at around two, telling the front desk that they’re just taking him back from a wild engagement party (the fact that Dustin flirts with the receptionist while reeking of alcohol has certainly helped the lie). It’s like pretending to be Eduardo’s friends, except they aren’t pretending.
“For a single suite this is actually very roomy,” Dustin flops onto the neatly made queen bed despite Eduardo being the one who needs to lie down.
“Feeling better already, Moskovitz?” Chris asks sarcastically after kicking off his shoes and kicking his feet onto the ottoman. He yawns and closes his eyes, nuzzling a cushion on the couch.
“Rihanna does wonders for drunkenness. Plus, I didn’t actually drink that much, I puked it all out,” Dustin replies in a cheerful tone. Beside him, Mark has retrieved his hoodie before lifting Eduardo’s legs onto the mattress.
“So the depositions are finally all over?” Dustin asks, flipping over so he’s lying on his stomach. Mark sits down at the foot of the bed and rubs his temples.
“Yeah. Eduardo will get his money by next week.”
“Then you’re finished.” Dustin states flatly.
Mark picks at the linen sheets. He hasn’t quite realized what a long night this has been until now. “On paper, yeah.”
“But you’re not.” Dustin says quietly. Chris seems to have fallen asleep on the other side of the room. His steady breathing is the only noise filling the silence now. “You talked to Chris about it?”
Mark nods. “When you were passed out and locked in the car with Wardo.”
“All the stuff that happened in Harvard when we were in Palo Alto?”
“Yeah.”
“You know it really took a toll on Chris.” Dustin rolls off the bed and grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. “Keeping it all in and pretending it’s all fucking history. Hanging out with Eduardo when he’s planning to sue you. Chris probably brushed it over like it wasn’t important when he talked to you, but it was a big deal. And he did it for you and Eduardo because he believed you two still had a chance, that moron.” Dustin wipes his mouth after taking a swig of water. “I told Chris to leave you and Eduardo alone because you two had clearly made your fucking choices, you when you decided to dilute Eduardo’s shares, Eduardo when he decided to sue you. But he wouldn’t listen. He said you would want to know what was going on with Eduardo, although I thought he was just crazy. Eduardo was probably crazy too, judging by the shit he says when he’s drunk.” Dustin narrows his eyes. “Yeah, actually, come to think of it, you were pretty wacky in Palo Alto around that time too.”
Mark sits up taller, pointing his finger at Dustin as if to defend himself. “That was a difficult period for Facebook and you know it, Dustin, so don’t give me crap.”
Dustin laughs. “Yeah. Without Sean as president you actually had to learn how to deal with the corporate people. Oh man. Remember your how to be CEO PR lessons? Chris would’ve died if he saw you in class.”
“Shut up.” Mark groans. He had to give up coding for two weeks because of that PR boot camp and he does not appreciate being reminded of that.
“Don’t sweat it, old chap,” Dustin waltzes over and pats him on the shoulder. “Your worst memories are safe with me.” He sighs contently then frowns. “What was I talking about again?”
“You were saying how dickish Eduardo and I were and how much we made Chris suffer.” Mark reminds him without any expression.
“Right.” Dustin sets down the water bottle, his face going blank as he counts the number of expletives he has already used. “Just to be clear, this is the tequila shots from Vicky’s engagement party talking. Please don’t fire me.”
“I’m not making any promises,” Mark fights back a yawn, “but you should continue.”
Dustin nods. “So how exactly did Eduardo end up in Chris’s car? Did you catch them hooking up or something?”
“Jesus Christ,” Mark swears under his breath. Were the four of them really that-whatever-homoerotic in college that their older selves find it necessary to speculate about it all the time? “No. I found Eduardo drunk in the deposition room and called Chris to take him back to the hotel.”
Dustin snorts at the ridiculousness that Mark just attempted to brush over. “Okay, Mark. Clearly you haven’t had a proper girlfriend in too long, because you’re really bad at this explaining yourself thing. I’ll ask Chris for the scoop later.”
Mark just gives him a deadpan stare. Dustin sighs and reaches out his hand. “Give me your laptop.”
“Why?”
“I need to show you something important. Come on.”
“Dustin,” Mark draws a long breath. His mind is more tired than his body, and while he doesn’t feel like falling asleep, the night has worn him out. For the past few months, years, he has been warring with his past. In the deposition rooms, in the Facebook offices, in the way nobody mentions Eduardo’s name when within his earshot, and somehow, it all comes down to Eduardo’s hotel room before the dawn of day. The choice is between to settle and to lose.
Mark can’t win, but he isn’t ready to be defeated either.
He hands over the laptop wordlessly, watching Dustin sitting on the edge of the bed and booting it up. A couple of keystrokes after, Dustin turns the laptop screen towards him. The browser shows the inbox of Eduardo’s email.
“You hacked his email?” Mark looks up from the screen, his voice half-amused with a hint of approval.
Usually Dustin would’ve smiled smugly in return, but he doesn’t. “Check the third one.”
Mark finds it, and for a moment he is genuinely puzzled. The title says this is an email confirmation for the ticket Eduardo booked with Singapore Air.
It’s probably for a business trip, Mark tells himself as he clicks the link, but then he starts reading. Eduardo has booked a one-way ticket. The date of the flight is exactly one week from now.
“So now you know what you’re fighting.” Dustin murmurs to himself and Mark smiles grimly. Yes, he is only fighting time, fighting the plane that’s taking off a week from now, fighting the settlement papers that will be presented tomorrow. No big deal.
“You should really talk to him before he leaves, you know. We might not see him in a while.”
“And what? Try to make it up to him? Say I’m sorry? Pretend he was not my best friend?” Mark stands up and shuts down the laptop. “I’m getting out of here before Eduardo wakes up.”
“No, Mark, you’re not going anywhere.” Dustin looks him straight in the eye and slowly, slowly produces a keychain from his pocket. It’s Chris’s, with the key of the Prius on it.
“Where did you learn to pick pockets?” Mark narrows his eyes and Dustin rolls his.
“The Internet, duh.”
“What do you want from me, Dustin?”
“I want you to stay here, wait till Wardo wakes up, and continue where you left off.”
Mark smirks with a sadness he doesn’t quite know. The way Dustin put it almost makes the past few years sound like a bad dream. As if a glass of water and some deep breaths later, everything will be back to the way it was.
“He was your best friend, Mark,” Dustin says as he coaxes the half-asleep Chris onto his feet, supports him by the shoulder, and hobbles toward the door. “And he will be, if you just give it a shot. Do you really believe that nothing happens for a reason? Is it really a coincidence that he got drunk the night before the lawsuit is officially closed? God, I can’t believe I’m spelling this out for you. Even though Wardo probably won’t admit it, he does believe in what he says, even though it kills him when he’s sober. Maybe he’s flying to Singapore just because he can’t keep it in anymore. Maybe he only needs you to give him a chance so he can actually speak his mind. Maybe you need that chance yourself, who knows. I don’t care if you make up or still hate each other after this, but at least I’d know you tried.”
Dustin takes a deep breath and looks back at Mark as he opens the door of the suite. “So don’t let me and Chris down again, Mark. I don’t think we can take another blow that hard.”
Mark watches Dustin close the door and disappear with Chris on his arm. His face feels numb and his neck makes the slightest cracking noise when he turns around to face Eduardo, whose face is buried in the pillow. He sits back on the bed again, feeling somewhat like a creep even though he used to watch Eduardo nap on his bed all the time while coding in his room. Except Mark knows Eduardo is not asleep anymore.
“You heard him,” Mark takes a deep breath. “We should pick up where we left off.”
Eduardo doesn’t turn around, and his voice sounds muffled. “I can’t believe you let Dustin off with hacking my email so easily.”
“I assure you there will be a cut on his bonus sometime this year. And yes, there would’ve been a difference if you quit the depositions on the first day.”
“Jesus Christ.” Eduardo sits up and looks at him, his shirt crumpled and his eyes weary.
“Don’t go to-” Mark cuts himself short, recalling all the PR and management lessons about communications he’d taken. “I mean, you shouldn’t go to Singapore.”
“Don’t screw with me now, Mark.” Eduardo’s voice is cold, “you are the last person who has the right to tell me what to do.”
“It would’ve made a difference, Wardo. If you called off the depositions and told me you only looked for advertising interests because you wanted me to retain control over the company, I would’ve listened.” Mark swallows at the end of this sentence. He’s getting nervous.
Eduardo just looks at him with tired eyes. “You didn’t have the best records when it comes to listening, Mark. I’m not sure why I would want to take that chance. I didn’t want to admit to Chris about all my drunk talk, because as much as I knew it was the truth, if I admitted it when I was sober, he was gonna tell you about it, thinking I was ready to forgive you. And I wasn’t ready. I would rather go through a lawsuit than listen to a fake apology.”
Mark steels himself in the face of this accusation. “But the lawsuit didn’t bring the closure you wanted, or else you wouldn’t have gone and gotten drunk. Look, Wardo, you weren’t the only one who turned away. I should’ve filled you in on the meetings Sean set up. I shouldn’t have forgotten to pick you up at the airport. I should’ve let you know that I was unhappy about you devoting so much of your time to the Phoenix while you only offered money to Facebook, and barely anything else.”
“And the advertising.” Eduardo adds quietly. Mark imagines Eduardo would’ve flipped at the sound of his words and taken it as insulting belittlement, but Eduardo doesn’t. It probably has to do with the fact that it’s currently 3AM.
“And the advertising.” repeats Mark. “Facebook has that now.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Good.” Mark nods, relaxed at the notion that Eduardo still uses Facebook, and the words fall right out of his mouth. “I didn’t end up losing a lot of control over the company. But you were right about that being a hazard in the early days of the company, when we were still seeking stable financial support. Sean helped me secure three seats on the board and without that control-” he smirks at the memory, “Facebook would probably be owned by Google or Microsoft right now.”
“You still kicked Sean out.” Eduardo looks up at him through his lashes.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t just...” Mark shakes his head. “There is a time for everything and everyone. He wasn’t the only one who left Facebook for good reasons during that period.”
Eduardo smirks. “Does it ever occur to you, Mark, that people generally don’t stay around very long because you’re not someone who can keep them around? And what do you mean by a time for everyone? A time when people allow them to be used, and a time when they don’t allow it anymore and you just leave them behind? I never thought you would hold me and Sean Parker on the same level, Mark. Not even when I hated you the most.”
Mark freezes, his eyebrows furrowed in an almost instinctive defensiveness. If this is someone who left Facebook because they wanted to be the succeeding CEO, he would’ve tossed a few sardonic remarks and moved on. But this is Eduardo. So Mark bites his lips and swallow the words.
Eduardo watches him, waiting. Eventually, Mark speaks out, his voice low but sincere.
“There was a time when you were the greatest CFO I could ask for, Eduardo. I might not have acknowledged it back then, but it was true. You gave me enough money to take Facebook to Palo Alto, and you handled the legal papers regarding incorporating Facebook in Florida to the best of your ability. And then there was a time when I needed you in California but you hardly listened to me. The same goes for Sean. There was a time when he took me to negotiations with VC’s and fought hard for my absolute power as the founder, and then there was a time when Facebook matured into a real corporation, and Sean’s precarious style no longer fit in. But that was the business end of things, Eduardo. The decisions I made under those premises have absolutely zero bearing on my personal relationship with you, and with Sean. Of course it was wrong of me to cut you out without proper warnings, but I was too blinded to know how wrong it was back then. I will pay the price for that mistake at the settlement presentation tomorrow. But Eduardo,” Mark pauses. The words he says next are barely louder than a whisper. “I know you only wanted the best for me and for Facebook back then, even though nobody understood. The fact that you came to find me tonight is proof that you’ve thought about where we went wrong, and you want to fix us. I want that too.”
“I was drunk, Mark.” Eduardo looks away, his expression unfathomable.
“I know.” A beat. “But you’re still you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Eduardo smiles, really smiles this time.”Really, Mark? How would you know if I’ve changed?”
Mark shifts his eyes. “I’m willing to find out, if you don’t mind.”
“Come on, then.” Eduardo jumps off the bed, “I’m hungry and there’s a twenty-four hour buffet downstairs.”
Mark looks startled by the offer, but eventually he nods and follows Eduardo into the empty elevator.
“So are you still gonna go to Singapore?” He can’t keep the question in.
Eduardo ponders for a moment before answering, “I’ll reconsider, depending on how this meal goes.”
Mark nods with a hint of smile. When the elevator stops, he experiences that familiar feeling of weightlessness.
That’s how it must feel to have been expunged of all of one’s baggage, Mark thinks to himself as he follows Eduardo into the hall. The feeling of closure finally hits home.
***
A few days after that “fateful night” (dubbed by Dustin), Dustin calls out to Mark as the CEO walks past his office.
“Hey, Mark, check this out.”
“Not now, Dustin.” Mark keeps walking. Dustin dashes out to stop him, and leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Eduardo has a surprise for you.”
Dustin grins triumphantly as Mark does a 180 and walks into his office. On the laptop screen is the layout of Eduardo’s inbox, again.
Except this time, the first email heading says, cancellation of tickets from Singapore Air.
“I think it’s safe to presume that you will get a call some time soon,” Dustin pats Mark’s back and sighs happily.
Mark deadpans, “back to work, Dustin.” But his eyes are smiling. Then he leaves Dustin’s office and continues walking down the hallway in the same shuffling gait.
Chris, who is sitting in a nearby open cubicle, watches Mark disappear around the corner. Then he turns to Dustin, who is whirling around in his spinny chair with a cup of coffee. They share a knowing smile across the hallway.
“I wonder where our raise is.”
“In Eduardo’s pocket somewhere, probably.”