Saying It Out Loud is Hard (1/1)
pairing/fandom Mark/Eduardo
title Saying it Out Loud is Hard
word count 2,000
rating PG
warnings language, maybe? completely ridiculous fluff
summary Mark writes out what he would say to Eduardo if he had the chance. He never intended to send it.
disclaimer I own nothing, this is not based on the real people but the fictional characters our lovely TSN fandom has created. On the very very slim chance you're here by googling your own name, run, do not walk, to the nearest exit.
a/n Written for tsnweek very late at night and unbeta-d, so if you catch any mistakes please let me know. Both graphics are made by me, though the pictures are obviously not my own. The title is taken from "Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens. :)
Wardo,
I am writing this letter to you because I know that this is it. We’ve signed the papers and the never-ending depositions are finally over, and now you are in Singapore. But still, somehow, I have things I want to say to you. I know I will never have the courage, or the opportunity, to say them in person, so I'm writing them down. For some reason it's easier that way.
(Why Singapore, by the way? I mean, I’m sorry-I’m sure that’s none of my business. I now know that you are none of my business, not anymore.)
And I don’t even know why I’m writing this, since it’s the end.
But I just think you should know that I think I get it now.
I know I have no right to, not with the way things ended between us. And even if I do understand, I’m sure it means nothing to you. I’m sure it’s too little, too late.
I just wish that I had figured it out sooner, you know? Because being young and stupid and uncompromising and stubborn can pay off in business, but… I wish someone would have told me that it doesn’t always pay off in other areas of life.
Other people could see it, that what we meant to each other was much more than we were willing to admit. Especially Chris and Dustin, they could always see it.
To tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted to classify things. I like to put them into little boxes and separate them thoroughly, so that I know how to behave and what to expect.
You-from the very beginning-were always unclassifiable to me. I couldn’t figure out what you meant to me… if you were a best friend or a CFO or something even more. I didn’t know what box to put you in, what lines to draw around you, and I think it made me reckless. I think it made me want to see how far I could push you, so that I would know where the boundaries were drawn. For some reason, no matter how fucked up it is (and it is truly fucked-up, I know that now), I thought that if you fought for our friendship-really fought, not just stared at me with dead eyes across a deposition table that looked like you’d already given up-that it would mean something. That it would mean that we were more, we were the most, that we were important to each other.
But the most fucked-up thing of all is, no matter what bargains I’ve made with myself, I somehow can’t accept the fact that you shouldn’t mean anything to me anymore. It would be a lie to say I don’t occasionally think of you-in fact, even that would be a lie. To say anything less than, “I think of you every day,” would be absolutely untrue. So I guess I was wrong after all. Because even though neither of us fought in the ways that counted, you don’t mean any less to me.
I know that with you, things are different. I’m sure that you feel differently, and I don’t blame you after what I did to you. Not only at the end, but all the time in between, all the things I didn’t see until much too late. And I think, one day, I may be able to live with that.
If you get nothing else from this letter, I hope that you know that I’m truly sorry for what happened between us. I think it will be a regret I carry with me for… god only knows how long. Probably forever.
This isn’t even one of those “sorry”s that I used to give in college, you know, “sorry I crashed your network, but I think I pointed out some gaping holes in your system and I deserve recognition for that” (which, I still stand by that point, even if it is not truly an apology). This is a no-strings-attached, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, lay it all out there, I’m sorry.
And I hope, even though you want nothing else from me, you will accept this.
I’ve enclosed a postcard. I hope you don’t see it as mean-spirited, because it is not meant to be that way. I didn’t buy it to remind you of long-gone arguments or past wrongs we’ve done to each other, because not only am I beyond that now, but I can see how childish and pointless they were, in the end.
I only include it because… I mean it. In the purest, most brutally honest, masochistic of ways. And I can’t see myself ever not meaning it.
If I ever gather the courage to send this, I hope you will take the meaning of this letter to heart. More than anything, I hope that you are happy, and that if you aren’t, you will do whatever it takes to change that. Because the regrets I have, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Especially not you.
Never on you, Wardo. I just couldn’t.
--M.
(Front side reads: "California misses you...", back side reads, "And so do I. --M.")
//
Eduardo,
I found this letter in Mark’s desk. I was cleaning it out, because he is just as much of a packrat as ever and it drives me nuts-but anyway, it was in a locked drawer. I had to sneak around and bribe his assistant for the key.
As you can see, it is in tatters, slowly falling apart. I think he’s read and re-read it so many times that it’s starting to take its toll.
And, because I will not suffer through the spectacularly frustrating ordeal of watching you two fail to communicate again, I’m sending it to you. If I lose my job, on your head be it.
In all seriousness, though, I think Mark couldn’t send this because he thought he put too much of himself in it, as he thinks about so many things. I think what he misunderstood is that that isn’t always a bad thing.
Regardless, Eduardo, at least read it. Even if you do, and decide that's all you can do, please just read it. There are things in here that I know you need to hear. What do you know? Even after everything, you and Mark still know each other best.
--Chris
P.S. Added by Dustin: he keeps it in a locked drawer that also contains a smashed laptop, Eduardo. I'm no genius, but even I can interpret what that means.
//
Mark,
I don't even know where to start.
I guess I should say that I got your letter from Chris. I'm sure you know this by now, but I want to tell you that you are not allowed to fire him for it Mark, not even a threat-he had your best interests at heart and that is something you should thank him for.
Secondly, the words you said... Mark, they were so beautiful. I never knew you could write like that. The things you said were so honest and delicate and perfect. Your letter was in bad shape already when I got it, but now it is even worse. I have read it so many times that I've lost count. There are sections I know by heart now. I look at the smudge at the bottom-your fingerprint smeared in ink-and it makes me catch my breath.
I don't think I can ever tell you what it meant to me. What it means to me.
So thank you for the things you said. I needed to hear so many of them. I don't think I even knew how much until I saw them laid out on the page like that.
But most of all, I wrote to say that you're wrong. So completely, utterly, tragically wrong about everything.
Of course you mean something to me. You mean more to me than I think words can express. I was never able to ignore you or erase you, though I tried with the depositions and what came afterward. I still think of you, all the time, which may seem pathetic and make no sense to a lot of people, but it is the truth. And after what you wrote me in your beautiful letter, I don't think I could give you anything less.
Which leads to how very sorry I am. At times I know I've played the victim or acted blameless, and I hope you can forgive me for that. It isn't true. I made mistakes just like you. We were just too young and stupid and foolish to know what was good for us. To know that it was possible to be what we wanted without hurting each other in the process.
But we've grown now. At least, I know I have, and your letter shows me that you have too.
So, to finish this, I am taking the advice you gave me and trying to change things so that I am happier. Because I think I know now that it's possible.
Mark, is there any way we could try this again?
xx E.
//
Wardo,
Are you absolutely sure? I don't you to feel obligated or pressured or... anything else, into this, but-I really, really want this. So much it's insane. I know I shouldn't and it doesn't make any sense (but then, we never did). And most of all, I know more than anything that I don't deserve it. Not in the least.
But, Wardo, if this does happen-if we decide to try this again, and I hope we do-know that I wouldn't ever make the same mistakes. I'd appreciate you and listen to you and try to communicate better and work to be worthy of it every day. At least, I would try as hard as I could. Because you deserve that. I know that now.
Your response was more than I ever allowed myself to hope for. It all seems entirely too easy. I feel like I should have to earn this, to work very hard for it in some way, because that is what you are worth. You deserve ceaseless apologies from me, to be totally honest, and I would give them to you. And I don't want you to settle for me. You could have so much more, Wardo. You probably should.
--M.
//
Mark,
The simple truth of it all is, I don't want endless apologies or you to feel like you have to prove yourself or anything like that. That would just be petty and cruel and I don't ever want to be that again to each other. All I want now, is you.
So yes, maybe it would be smarter or safer to want this with someone else. But like you said, we never made any sense. And neither does this.
And that's why it's perfect.
This is real, I've thought about this, and I don't want any more regrets. I'm totally sure and certain about what I want now, so... Are you in this with me?
xx E.
//
Wardo,
I could never not be in this with you.
Since you say I'm good with words (at least on paper), here are some more. I know this may seem premature, but, I love you. I think I loved you for a long time. So it's like a punch to a gut knowing that I hurt you so badly, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life (or as long as you'll let me) working with you and fighting for this, fighting for us.
And I'm so glad you want this too.
--M.
//
Mark,
I couldn’t care less about being premature.
I love you too. I never stopped.
xx E.
P.S. I've enclosed a postcard of my own this time. I hope you'll take it's advice.
P.P.S. I can't wait to start this journey with you.
(Front side reads: "Singapore", back side reads: "Come and find me. xx E.")
title Saying it Out Loud is Hard
word count 2,000
rating PG
warnings language, maybe? completely ridiculous fluff
summary Mark writes out what he would say to Eduardo if he had the chance. He never intended to send it.
disclaimer I own nothing, this is not based on the real people but the fictional characters our lovely TSN fandom has created. On the very very slim chance you're here by googling your own name, run, do not walk, to the nearest exit.
a/n Written for tsnweek very late at night and unbeta-d, so if you catch any mistakes please let me know. Both graphics are made by me, though the pictures are obviously not my own. The title is taken from "Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens. :)
Wardo,
I am writing this letter to you because I know that this is it. We’ve signed the papers and the never-ending depositions are finally over, and now you are in Singapore. But still, somehow, I have things I want to say to you. I know I will never have the courage, or the opportunity, to say them in person, so I'm writing them down. For some reason it's easier that way.
(Why Singapore, by the way? I mean, I’m sorry-I’m sure that’s none of my business. I now know that you are none of my business, not anymore.)
And I don’t even know why I’m writing this, since it’s the end.
But I just think you should know that I think I get it now.
I know I have no right to, not with the way things ended between us. And even if I do understand, I’m sure it means nothing to you. I’m sure it’s too little, too late.
I just wish that I had figured it out sooner, you know? Because being young and stupid and uncompromising and stubborn can pay off in business, but… I wish someone would have told me that it doesn’t always pay off in other areas of life.
Other people could see it, that what we meant to each other was much more than we were willing to admit. Especially Chris and Dustin, they could always see it.
To tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted to classify things. I like to put them into little boxes and separate them thoroughly, so that I know how to behave and what to expect.
You-from the very beginning-were always unclassifiable to me. I couldn’t figure out what you meant to me… if you were a best friend or a CFO or something even more. I didn’t know what box to put you in, what lines to draw around you, and I think it made me reckless. I think it made me want to see how far I could push you, so that I would know where the boundaries were drawn. For some reason, no matter how fucked up it is (and it is truly fucked-up, I know that now), I thought that if you fought for our friendship-really fought, not just stared at me with dead eyes across a deposition table that looked like you’d already given up-that it would mean something. That it would mean that we were more, we were the most, that we were important to each other.
But the most fucked-up thing of all is, no matter what bargains I’ve made with myself, I somehow can’t accept the fact that you shouldn’t mean anything to me anymore. It would be a lie to say I don’t occasionally think of you-in fact, even that would be a lie. To say anything less than, “I think of you every day,” would be absolutely untrue. So I guess I was wrong after all. Because even though neither of us fought in the ways that counted, you don’t mean any less to me.
I know that with you, things are different. I’m sure that you feel differently, and I don’t blame you after what I did to you. Not only at the end, but all the time in between, all the things I didn’t see until much too late. And I think, one day, I may be able to live with that.
If you get nothing else from this letter, I hope that you know that I’m truly sorry for what happened between us. I think it will be a regret I carry with me for… god only knows how long. Probably forever.
This isn’t even one of those “sorry”s that I used to give in college, you know, “sorry I crashed your network, but I think I pointed out some gaping holes in your system and I deserve recognition for that” (which, I still stand by that point, even if it is not truly an apology). This is a no-strings-attached, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, lay it all out there, I’m sorry.
And I hope, even though you want nothing else from me, you will accept this.
I’ve enclosed a postcard. I hope you don’t see it as mean-spirited, because it is not meant to be that way. I didn’t buy it to remind you of long-gone arguments or past wrongs we’ve done to each other, because not only am I beyond that now, but I can see how childish and pointless they were, in the end.
I only include it because… I mean it. In the purest, most brutally honest, masochistic of ways. And I can’t see myself ever not meaning it.
If I ever gather the courage to send this, I hope you will take the meaning of this letter to heart. More than anything, I hope that you are happy, and that if you aren’t, you will do whatever it takes to change that. Because the regrets I have, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Especially not you.
Never on you, Wardo. I just couldn’t.
--M.
(Front side reads: "California misses you...", back side reads, "And so do I. --M.")
//
Eduardo,
I found this letter in Mark’s desk. I was cleaning it out, because he is just as much of a packrat as ever and it drives me nuts-but anyway, it was in a locked drawer. I had to sneak around and bribe his assistant for the key.
As you can see, it is in tatters, slowly falling apart. I think he’s read and re-read it so many times that it’s starting to take its toll.
And, because I will not suffer through the spectacularly frustrating ordeal of watching you two fail to communicate again, I’m sending it to you. If I lose my job, on your head be it.
In all seriousness, though, I think Mark couldn’t send this because he thought he put too much of himself in it, as he thinks about so many things. I think what he misunderstood is that that isn’t always a bad thing.
Regardless, Eduardo, at least read it. Even if you do, and decide that's all you can do, please just read it. There are things in here that I know you need to hear. What do you know? Even after everything, you and Mark still know each other best.
--Chris
P.S. Added by Dustin: he keeps it in a locked drawer that also contains a smashed laptop, Eduardo. I'm no genius, but even I can interpret what that means.
//
Mark,
I don't even know where to start.
I guess I should say that I got your letter from Chris. I'm sure you know this by now, but I want to tell you that you are not allowed to fire him for it Mark, not even a threat-he had your best interests at heart and that is something you should thank him for.
Secondly, the words you said... Mark, they were so beautiful. I never knew you could write like that. The things you said were so honest and delicate and perfect. Your letter was in bad shape already when I got it, but now it is even worse. I have read it so many times that I've lost count. There are sections I know by heart now. I look at the smudge at the bottom-your fingerprint smeared in ink-and it makes me catch my breath.
I don't think I can ever tell you what it meant to me. What it means to me.
So thank you for the things you said. I needed to hear so many of them. I don't think I even knew how much until I saw them laid out on the page like that.
But most of all, I wrote to say that you're wrong. So completely, utterly, tragically wrong about everything.
Of course you mean something to me. You mean more to me than I think words can express. I was never able to ignore you or erase you, though I tried with the depositions and what came afterward. I still think of you, all the time, which may seem pathetic and make no sense to a lot of people, but it is the truth. And after what you wrote me in your beautiful letter, I don't think I could give you anything less.
Which leads to how very sorry I am. At times I know I've played the victim or acted blameless, and I hope you can forgive me for that. It isn't true. I made mistakes just like you. We were just too young and stupid and foolish to know what was good for us. To know that it was possible to be what we wanted without hurting each other in the process.
But we've grown now. At least, I know I have, and your letter shows me that you have too.
So, to finish this, I am taking the advice you gave me and trying to change things so that I am happier. Because I think I know now that it's possible.
Mark, is there any way we could try this again?
xx E.
//
Wardo,
Are you absolutely sure? I don't you to feel obligated or pressured or... anything else, into this, but-I really, really want this. So much it's insane. I know I shouldn't and it doesn't make any sense (but then, we never did). And most of all, I know more than anything that I don't deserve it. Not in the least.
But, Wardo, if this does happen-if we decide to try this again, and I hope we do-know that I wouldn't ever make the same mistakes. I'd appreciate you and listen to you and try to communicate better and work to be worthy of it every day. At least, I would try as hard as I could. Because you deserve that. I know that now.
Your response was more than I ever allowed myself to hope for. It all seems entirely too easy. I feel like I should have to earn this, to work very hard for it in some way, because that is what you are worth. You deserve ceaseless apologies from me, to be totally honest, and I would give them to you. And I don't want you to settle for me. You could have so much more, Wardo. You probably should.
--M.
//
Mark,
The simple truth of it all is, I don't want endless apologies or you to feel like you have to prove yourself or anything like that. That would just be petty and cruel and I don't ever want to be that again to each other. All I want now, is you.
So yes, maybe it would be smarter or safer to want this with someone else. But like you said, we never made any sense. And neither does this.
And that's why it's perfect.
This is real, I've thought about this, and I don't want any more regrets. I'm totally sure and certain about what I want now, so... Are you in this with me?
xx E.
//
Wardo,
I could never not be in this with you.
Since you say I'm good with words (at least on paper), here are some more. I know this may seem premature, but, I love you. I think I loved you for a long time. So it's like a punch to a gut knowing that I hurt you so badly, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life (or as long as you'll let me) working with you and fighting for this, fighting for us.
And I'm so glad you want this too.
--M.
//
Mark,
I couldn’t care less about being premature.
I love you too. I never stopped.
xx E.
P.S. I've enclosed a postcard of my own this time. I hope you'll take it's advice.
P.P.S. I can't wait to start this journey with you.
(Front side reads: "Singapore", back side reads: "Come and find me. xx E.")