Holes in You (The Kind That I Could Not Mend) (2/3)

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“I'm working on erasing you / Just don't have the proper tools / I get hammered, forget that you exist / There's no way I’m forgetting this…”
--“My Backwards Walk” by Frightened Rabbit

They all seem to settle into a rhythm. Eduardo avoids his father’s gaze whenever possible, and Mr. Saverin and Eduardo exchange equally stubborn, silent looks (Mark’s not going to give in first). Mrs. Saverin is her bubbly, peacemaking self, except for when an argument erupts, in which case she tiptoes around it, like she thinks ignoring it make it go away.

The next night, they are working their way through another awkward and eerily quiet dinner when Eduardo clears his throat. “Pai, I got a call about that oil futures internship a couple days ago.”

Mr. Saverin nods curtly, but doesn’t look up from cutting his steak. Mrs. Saverin looks up cautiously, sensing the tension. Mark tightens his grip on his fork, hating every minute of this.

But Eduardo just composes his face into an expression of determination and tries again. “They, um. They want me for the job.”

Mr. Saverin chews thoughtfully. “It’s good to keep your options open.”

Mark is fuming. Because, seriously, does he not grasp how competitive and prestigious the position is? Where’s the I’m proud of you and good job that Eduardo deserves?

Eduardo opens his mouth, exhales, and plows on, resolve coloring his face. “I don’t want to keep my options open, Pai,” he says, the words rushing out of his mouth. Mr. Saverin looks up, vague interest evident now. Eduardo swallows and looks down, muttering into his plate. “I told them I’d do it.”

There’s the sharp sound of silver meeting ceramic as Mr. Saverin sets his force down forcefully, pushing his plate away and throwing down his napkin. “I would have appreciated if you consulted me before giving them your answer.” Eduardo just clenches his teeth, still glaring at his plate. “What happened to the internship I was able to pull for you?”

“I don’t want the internship that you got for me. I got this on my own merit, Pai!” Mr. Saverin scoffs in response. “”Besides, I’ll make good money doing it!”

“More than you would have made at that business internship?”

“How the hell should I know?” Eduardo is evidently upset now, red in the face and scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

Mr. Saverin pushes his hair back and stands up, and when he speaks his tone is dangerously cold. “Eduardo, may I see you in my study?”

Eduardo breathes out jaggedly, but stands up stiffly. He pushes in his chair pointed and Mark can see his hands as they fall back to his sides, which are clasped into fists and trembling. Mr. Saverin stalks out, and Eduardo grits out an “excuse me” to Mark and his mother before following, the door to the study left swinging in his wake.

Mark and Mrs. Saverin sit in complete stillness for a minute or so. And then there is sound.

It echoes through to the dining room. It starts out with harsh, short Portuguese in Mr. Saverin’s deep tone, and even though Mark doesn’t understand the words the tone says it all. It’s severely disappointed, and Mark feels guilty even though it’s not directed at him. Eduardo cuts him off, frustration bleeding through his words in every syllable. Mr. Saverin interrupts, and their words overlap and then their voices gradually raise.

Mrs. Saverin stands up abruptly, gathering some dishes into her hands. She starts making her way into the kitchen, but then pauses and turns back toward Mark when she reaches the door.

“Would you mind helping me?” she says, and Mark practically trips over his feet getting up, grabbing plates and dishes and everything he can get his hands on.

They clean up in amiable silence, moving around each other easily. At one point, a door slams and they can both hear Eduardo stomp up the stairs, breaths uneven. Mark’s head jerks in that direction, but Mrs. Saverin doesn’t look up. Mark is torn for a second before she shoots him a look, the kid that says don’t even think about it. So he stays put.

About ten minutes later, everything is clean and put away. Mark is hovering by the door, not really sure what he should do. He’s never sure what to do in these situations, and he doesn’t want to screw things up further.

Mrs. Saverin gives him a little smile, like she can sense his inner debate. “Check on him, will you?” she suggests, her face saddening a little. “He is always upset after fights like these.”

Mark doesn’t really know what to say about that, because, well--yeah, that seems pretty fucking obvious. But he doesn’t say anything, just nods a little stiltedly and then takes the stairs two at a time.

--

“We watched it all night / We grew up in spite of it…”
--“Romulus” by Sufjan Stevens

Mark pauses in front of Eduardo’s room. It’s not exactly subtle, taking into account the way the floorboards are creaking underneath him, but he just needs a moment.

He’s worried, after the last time he tried to talk to Eduardo about his dad, how he felt like such an ass for thinking he understood, thinking he could fix something that was nineteen years in the making in one night. He doesn’t want to do that again.

But he can’t let Eduardo stew up there, feeling like a failure, because he’s not. And he needs to know that. That’s the most important thing.

So he pushes the door open gently, rapping his fingers against the doorframe. Eduardo is lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling with his hands locked behind his head. His posture is very relaxed, but Mark still feels a little tense as he enters the room.

Eduardo turns his head and sees Mark. He breathes out a little, and Mark swears he can see some of the tension leave his body. “Hey,” Eduardo says, a little nervous, sitting up.

Mark shuts the door behind him and doesn’t respond. He sits down at the foot of Eduardo’s bed with his feet tucked under him. Eduardo scoots down so that he is directly in front of him, sitting upright at the end of the bed and looking down at Mark. He looks like he’s waiting for something, but Mark is silent. Eduardo seems confused by this and twiddles with his fingers.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and his voice comes out a little low but completely composed. “This whole trip has been… With my father and-and me, and then you, and then…” He trails off, casting his eyes over to the wall.

Mark just waits. He doesn’t want Eduardo to feel like he has to share or explain, but he wants him to know that he’s there for him if he wants to talk about it. Eduardo finally turns back to look at him, and explains.

“The first day, when you said…” he seems to battle back and forth in his head, and never really finishes the thought, but it’s not necessary. Mark knows what he means.

“I don’t hate him. I wish I could. I think it would make things easier if I did,” Eduardo says, shrugging a little, looking exhausted. “It’s just…” he raises his head and meets Marks eyes again. “He has a very clear idea of what he wants for me. And not only does he know what he’s talking about, it also comes from really good intentions. He just wants life for me to be better than it was from him.” Eduardo looks down at the floor again. “And it’s hard to hate him for that.”

Mark hmms, thinking about it. He’s trying to understand, he really is… But in his opinion, there is no excuse or explanation that will change his opinion of Mr. Saverin.

Eduardo sniffs, and Mark looks up at him, and can see that he’s expecting Mark to say something. “Yeah,” he replies inanely. Eduardo looks a little relieved that Mark’s not going to, like, yell at him or something.

“But, Wardo…” And there is the face again as Mark says it; Eduardo looks back at him with such a hopeful expression. Mark wishes he knew why.

“Wardo, just know that…you’re-you’re somebody. Okay? And you don’t have to like, talk about your dad with anyone or make explanations for him if you don’t want to, but if you ever start feeling like you want out, then you... you should say something. And don’t let him-or anyone, for that matter-make you feel like you’re worthless. Because you’re not. You’re like, the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I just think you should know that. Um. You know. You should know that you’re valuable to someone.”

Fuck.

He says it all aimed at the floor, but there’s no hiding it anyway. He’s blushing furiously. He didn’t mean for it come out like that, honestly… He was just supposed to reassure him, not tell him how much he means to him, right there on the floor of Eduardo’s bedroom not even halfway through spring break.

When he finally gathers the courage to look up at Eduardo’s face, he doesn’t know what to make of the expression. Eduardo just looks… shocked, and rightly so.

But Mark can’t take it. He can’t take not knowing, and he just feels so embarrassed. Even if Eduardo didn’t interpret it as Mark confessing his feelings, even if what he reads into it is only friendship, Mark will know what it was, and he just can’t stay here and watch Eduardo react to that.

So he scrambles up off the floor and starts to head to the door. He’s sure the panic is evident on his face because Eduardo starts to look scared too. He gets up to follow wordlessly, trying to move faster than Mark to stop him, but he can’t. Mark is at the door, hand on the doorknob, when Eduardo’s voice breaks the stretch of silence.

“Mark,” Eduardo says, and the word comes out like a plea as he catches Mark’s hand. Mark turns to face him with a wince, but instead taking in Eduardo’s bloodshot eyes and his heart aches inside his chest. “Stay,” Eduardo murmurs, softer than a whisper. “Please, stay.”

And the thing is, Mark can’t say no to Eduardo on a good day, let alone when Eduardo is looking at him like this, so bleak and broken and somehow still beautiful. So there’s no question, really; there never was. Mark was always going to stay.

But he wants more than that. More than just the boy who stayed, the guy who was always there, the best friend who picks up the pieces.

So he steps forward and kisses Eduardo.

Mark tries to fill the kiss with all the things he can’t find words for: the reassurance and comfort and encouragement he’s been trying to embody since that very first night. He keeps it slow, chaste even, and tries to catalogue the way the soft press of Eduardo’s lips feel against his own. Mark brings one hand up to wrap around Eduardo’s neck, and then he feels Wardo cup Mark’s face in the palm of his hand. He wants to know it all so deeply that he won’t-can’t-forget it, just in case this is the only chance he gets.

As the kiss ends and Mark pulls back tentatively, trying to put off that terrifying moment after which he will know for sure one way or another, no going back. He tilts his head up a smidge to see Eduardo’s’ face, and he just looks blown apart, like he doesn’t even know what to think. His mouth is partially open, like he’s on the cusp of trying for some words, but then shakes his head minutely and shuts it, casting his eyes downward. Mark focuses on the floor too, simultaneously hating himself and wondering how he got to be such a colossal idiot.

Because obviously that wasn’t the right move, Eduardo’s here and he’s vulnerable; Mark throwing himself at him with all the recklessness and lack of planning of a seven year old is probably not what he’s looking for at this moment in time. Which just makes Mark feel even worse, because now he’s not just a shitty friend; he’s a shitty friend and a shitty person for taking advantage of Wardo like this.

He’s trying to work out how to best backtrack the whole situation until Eduardo clears his throat, forcing Mark to meet his eyes. “You…” he says, trailing off before he even gets started, looking just so positively overwhelmed and shit Mark sucks at this. Talking… emotions… all of it. How do other people do it?

Eduardo speaks again, effectively cutting off Mark’s thoughts. “What was that for?” he asks, a little breathless and eyes searching. Time seems to slow down.

Mark considers his options.

He could lie.

He could shrug and walk away, and they could pretend it never happened. That way, at least, things would stay the same. Of course, this could backfire and make things awkward between them, which is kind of exactly what Mark wants to avoid here.

On the other hand, he could apologize; say he was just trying to comfort Eduardo. Eduardo would probably appreciate the sentiment and let it go. He would understand, and things wouldn’t be weird. ..Okay, maybe they’d be a little weird, but chances are less so than the first option.

Or.

Mark could tell the truth.

He could spill his guts and tell Eduardo exactly how he feels, how long he’s wanted kiss him. How he’s had a massive crush on him but he doesn’t want to scare him away. How he knows Eduardo deserves better, so much better, how Eduardo deserves everything, and he knows that, but that it doesn’t stop Mark from wanting him. Needing him.

As he thinks about it, he knows he should go with the second alternative. It’s the safest, it leaves things between them in a good place, and it doesn’t scare Mark out of his mind just thinking about it.

But the thing is:

Mark’s always been a risk-taker.

So third option it is.

“Wardo,” he begins, letting his hand drop and fisting Eduardo’s shirt, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know this is probably the worst possible time to tell you, but… I really like you. I mean, I-fuck, Wardo, I really like you. And I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, since…” He racks his brain for an event that won’t seem totally pathetic, because to say exactly what he’s thinking (right from that very first moment when Eduardo approached him at the AEPi party) would just make Mark feel like such a sap. But again, he settles for the truth. “Since the beginning,” he admits, finally meeting Eduardo’s eyes.

The good news is, they aren’t sad anymore, they look bright and clear in a way that Mark hadn’t dared hope they would be. Eduardo is looking at Mark with a happy kind of wonder, and he hauls Mark back in for a bruising kiss.

Mark makes a surprised but pleased sound into Eduardo’s mouth, and this time there isn’t anything chaste about it. Eduardo lays claim to Mark’s mouth greedily, possessive in a way that makes Mark go hot all over. He pushes Mark up against the door to his room and dips his head lower to Mark’s neck, biting at his jaw lightly on the way down and then leaving hot, open mouthed kisses in his wake, tonguing Mark’s pulse point (which makes Mark’s heart try to launch itself its way out of his chest) and then moving to nip at his earlobe. He whispers wetly into Mark’s ear, breath hitching at the words, “You too?” and Mark shudders at the thought.

And suddenly that’s enough; too much, even. Mark grabs Eduardo’s hand and tugs his forward until they both fall onto the bed. Eduardo lands on top of him and moves up so that he’s straddling Mark, breaths coming fast as he fumbles to open Mark’s jeans, and Mark lets a small whimper escape against his will.

Eduardo’s head snaps up, eyes wild and looking every bit as insecure and tentative as he did ten minutes ago. “Is this okay? Should we… slow down?”

Mark shakes his head immediately. The last thing he wants is for Eduardo to slow down.

Luckily, Eduardo understands what Mark means, because he’s basically incapable of making words at the moment. So Eduardo just beams at him like the sun and then leans down to lick into Mark’s mouth. They’re both trying hard to keep from smiling as they kiss, until Eduardo pushes his hands up under Mark’s shirt to lay his hands on skin, which makes Mark gasp.

Soon that’s not enough, and Eduardo is tugging Mark’s shirt over his head and then sitting up again to resume his struggle to get Mark out of his pants. It’s a little awkward at first, a tangle of legs and clothes flying off the bed at maximum speed, but then it’s just Eduardo sitting back on his heels to look at Mark, who is wearing only his boxers at this point. Eduardo’s eyes flit across his body rapidly, drinking it all in like he can’t get enough, and Mark flushes all the way down to his collarbone.

“Fuck, Mark,” Eduardo exhales, making Mark turn even redder. “You’re so… so…”

Mark lets out a huff of breath and tries to glare at him, because really, he’s harder than he’s ever been and Eduardo is fucking straddling him and this is probably the hottest thing that’s happened to anyone ever in his estimation, and he would very much like to get on with it.

Eduardo never finishes the sentence, just looks at Mark like he is something beautiful, something special, something that he wants. He slips his thumbs under the waistline of Mark’s boxers and looks up at Mark, questioning. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” Mark stutters out through gritted teeth, proud of getting a word out.

Eduardo pulls them down slowly, and after that it is all hands. Eduardo running his hands over Mark’s thighs, over his stomach, and finally stroking him, imprecise and fast and too much and never enough.

It doesn’t take much, and Mark comes faster than he’d like to admit. But, who can blame him? It’s Eduardo, the guy he’s basically mooned over since the year started, is kissing him and putting his hands all over him and, well-yeah. Mark would like to see someone else do better under the same circumstances.

Eduardo flops down beside him, and Mark feels warm and tingly all over, his body still humming pleasantly and coming down from his orgasm. Then he turns to look at Eduardo, who’s still fully clothed, and surges up to kiss him. Eduardo lets out a soft noise and Mark rolls over so that they’re facing each other full on.

He pulls back, whispering, “What do you want?” just centimeters from Wardo’s lips, eyes flicking back and forth between Eduardo’s red and swollen mouth and his eyes, pupils blown so wide and black that Mark feels a little dizzy.

Wardo blushes. It’s ridiculous, he just got Mark off, and here he is blushing like they’re courting or something else ridiculous from the Victorian era. It’s insane. Somehow Mark still manages to find it ridiculously endearing.

“I want…” he murmurs, leaning forward just a little and raising his hand so that his fingers are resting lightly on Mark’s lips. He blushes again softly, and leans in to Mark’s ear like he can’t say it out loud, like he’s about to confess a secret. Mark can hear how arrhythmic his breathing is so close, and he feels goosebumps crop up all over as Eduardo’s hot breaths fall over his skin.

“Mark, I want your mouth,” he whispers, so quietly Mark isn’t even sure he heard right. But then Eduardo’s pulling back, looking at Mark with a shadow of a smirk, like he knows exactly how he just made Mark go hot all over.

So Mark nods fast, because god he wants to, and the sight makes Eduardo throw back his head and laugh, the smug bastard.

They make quick work of Eduardo’s clothes (though unbuttoning his stupid dress shirt is an ordeal that takes teamwork) and then Mark gets to revel in the golden expanse of Eduardo’s skin, the graceful lines of his body. Mark kisses Eduardo deeply, and then starts moving downward, marking every inch of space as his own with an open-mouthed kiss.

He makes note of all of Eduardo’s reactions, the way he moans as Mark swirls his tongue around a nipple while thumbing over the other, the way he goes boneless and pliant when Mark bites lightly at his hipbone, the way he trembles when Mark presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. Mark moves back to Eduardo’s boxers, which already have a wet spot at the front, and dives in, tonguing him through the fabric. Eduardo thrashes his head back and forth on the pillows above him, like the sensation of contact is too much already.

Mark tugs at the waistband, and Eduardo’s cock pops up, no longer straining against his boxers. Mark breathes over it for a minute; just to tease Wardo, who groans after a couple of seconds before thrusting his hips up, seeking friction.

“C’mon, Mark,” he slurs, like he’s drunk, like he wants Mark’s mouth on his dick so badly that he’s incoherent, and really, it’s not like Mark can resist that.

And the thing is, Mark really likes giving head. It gets him off, listening to the guy above him moan. He likes the feel of it, likes the weight and the taste and likes the way he can feel himself hardening while it’s happening, even if he’s just come. It makes sense, given his oral fixation, that he would be good at it, and well… Mark tends to like things that he’s good at.

But giving head to Eduardo, somehow that manages to be even better.

Mark fits his hand around the base, and blows lightly on Eduardo’s dick to watch it twitch before he moves to lick a stripe up the underside. Then runs his thumb over the slit, Eduardo shudders, and Mark lets the head slip into his mouth. He sucks around Eduardo, bobbing his head and swirling his tongue, savoring Eduardo’s murmured, “Christ” and then shuddering as he feels Eduardo’s hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly and then feeling the gentle scratch of his nails. Eduardo’s hips snap up and Mark moves with him, but then gently holds Eduardo down, caressing his hipbones lightly.

“Mark, Mark, yes,” he moans, sounding completely desperate and wanton and gorgeous. And then he lowers his voice, “I used to-ah!-Mark, I think about this, in the shower. When I jerk off, I think about you-ohhh, yes, Mark-and your mouth, Mark your fucking mouth--”

And suddenly Mark is fully hard again, even though he just came, and it is all so ridiculous.

Mark hollows his cheeks and moans around him, removing his hand and taking in as much of Eduardo as he can. Eduardo comes with a wracked moan and Mark swallows around him, pulling off with a pop and climbing his way back up Eduardo’s body as he trembles.

Eduardo is still shaking his way through the aftershocks, and so Mark lies on his back and touches himself, coming again just as Eduardo is surfacing, who watches him jerk himself off, glassy-eyed. As soon as Mark has finished, Eduardo plucks some tissues off his bedside table and cleans them up. Mark looks down at him, and he seems Eduardo’s face, which looks just so… happy, which is really all Mark has wanted for Eduardo this whole time. So he tilts Eduardo’s chin up for an innocent and sweet kiss, and then Eduardo curls into his side and they both breathe together.

Mark isn’t aware of falling asleep, but the last thing he does remember Eduardo tangling their fingers together and raising Mark’s arm to press a feather-light kiss to the back of his hand.

--

“You bite my lip / You spike my blood / You make my heart beat faster…”
--“Faster” by Matt Nathanson

It changes things.

(Obviously.)

But Mark is happily surprised by the fact that the changes are overwhelmingly good.

Because Mark gets Eduardo in the way he always wanted.

Now he doesn’t have to hide it or hate himself when he feels a surge of fondness for Eduardo. In fact, he can reach over and grab Eduardo’s hand and squeeze it, sending him a secret smile to go along with it.

He can tell Eduardo exactly how he feels instead of just thinking it as hard as he can and hoping Eduardo somehow learned to read minds.

He’s allowed to kiss Eduardo, and Mark’s pretty sure he will never get over how great that is. The way Eduardo gasps a little into his mouth, the way he clutches at Mark’s waist and digs his nails in so they bite just a little, the way his own skin spikes with goosebumps all over when their tongues tangle together. These are perhaps the best things.

And then there is the sex. Which is something else entirely.

Because Mark hadn’t really understood sex before. Well, he understood it; after all, he wasn’t a virgin (He’d slept with the girl he’d been dating all throughout senior year on prom night and he’d fooled around with one or two guys at Harvard). But he can’t say he ever really comprehended why people got so emotional about it before now, it had always just been about mutual orgasms. He thought of it the way that most guys his age think of sex: that it was awesome, something that you did because you had needs.

But Eduardo is teaching him.

Before Eduardo, Mark was never jealous. He could never figure out why people would be. What was the point? If they didn’t want to fuck you anymore, there was always someone else who was willing to. But now when he thinks of anyone else seeing Eduardo the way Mark gets to see him, a furious monster rips through his chest with envy. He didn’t know anyone could really make him feel that way, but Eduardo has managed it.

Most of all, Mark’s learning to appreciate the emotion behind sex now. It’s not just mutual orgasms; it’s so much more… It’s giving a part of yourself to someone, showing them that you want them to know you entire. It’s getting as close as you possibly can to that person, emotionally and physically. It’s about the oneness, two people occupying the same space for however short a time.

Mark gets that now.

--

There are other things that haven't changed. Eduardo still dotes on Mark and looks out for him at every opportunity. Which Mark loves, same as always.

On the day of the Seder, they're getting ready in Eduardo's room, chatting idly as Eduardo puts on the most ridiculous suit Mark has ever seen (if only because it looks so damn good on him). Mark is ready, wearing the nicest pair of jeans he brought and polo. He thinks he looks pretty good, if he does say so himself.

Eduardo is making the final touches, fixing his tie in the mirror. He turns around, sees Mark, and stops mid-sentence.

Mark feels a twinge of self consciousness then, because he may not feel very secure in the way he looks, but normally he doesn't care. Anyone who can't look past his appearance to get to his ideas--the ones that are going to change the world someday--is an idiot and not worth knowing. (There are a lot of idiots.). Mark doesn't care about them.

But he does care how Eduardo sees him. Once again, Eduardo is proving to be the exception.

It ends up not mattering though, because Eduardo just ends up chuckling good-naturedly. "Mark," he says, drawing out his voice with a pleading edge. "You can't wear that."

"Why not?"

Eduardo just looks at him with a hint of a smirk. "Because my father will have a heart attack."

Mark hadn't anticipated this dilemma, just like the rest of the elements of Eduardo's family. He huffs out a breath in frustration and glares petulantly at Eduardo. "Well, what do you suggest I wear instead?"

Eduardo frowns, and then starts rummaging around in his closet. Mark folds his arms and acts childish the whole time just to mess with him.

He emerges holding out a pair of charcoal slacks, rolling his eyes fondly at Mark's antics. "Here," he says. "Try these on."

Mark does. He doesn't like the way they feel, kind of itchy and too tight, plus Eduardo's taller than he is so they have to safety pin up the extra fabric. This results in much goofing off and giggling in front of Eduardo's full length mirror as Mark wiggles around in the pants and acts grumpy. It's all worth it though, for the way Eduardo is clutching his stomach and laughing until tears stream down his face.

Once that's done, Eduardo stands back up and surveys his work. "Not bad," he assesses. Then he wrinkles his nose (Mark bites his lip and tries not to find that adorable). "The shirt doesn't match now, though."

Mark groans in protest, but Eduardo is already disappearing back into his closet before he pulls out a navy, long sleeve button down, brandishing it at Mark.

He puts it on, acting much more annoyed than he actually feels with the whole ordeal. When he's done, he puts his hands out to the side in a "see?" pose.

Eduardo just rolls his eyes at Mark fondly, pulling him in by the arm. "You've done all the buttons one off."

Mark blushes furiously, but the endearing nature of Eduardo's tone doesn't make him feel like an idiot. Soon it is fixed, and Eduardo moves his hands up to pull Mark in by the collar.

"You look really good in my clothes," he says a little breathlessly between their lips, and Mark's own breathing hitches at the suggestion in his tone as Eduardo kisses him, slow and deliberate and just a touch messy.

It would all be very well and good in Mark's opinion if the two of them just skipped the Seder and did this all day, but Eduardo pulls back quickly. Mark pouts in response.

Eduardo laughs. "That's not going to work on me, I just spent an inordinate amount of time fixing my hair and I'm not going to let you get me all disheveled. Then my parents would know exactly what we're doing and this whole trip would go south."

The logic is sound, but it still takes a few minutes for him to convince Mark to stop touching him.

--

He thought it would be kind of hot, walking around Eduardo's house in his clothes without anyone else knowing. Like a secret thrill.

It's something else entirely.

He gets caught up in the tradition of the ceremony, as he has ever since he was a little boy. He finds something incredibly moving about all of it, doing something that people have done for centuries; around the same time and saying the same words. Mark may not believe in God or anything like that, but he still has always thought it's pretty special.

But somehow it means even more with Eduardo there, watching him burn the chametz and the way his face flickers in the golden light of the embers, a soft expression on his face. Seeing the way he asks the Four Questions, something he's done as long as he can remember (this inevitably makes Mark think of a young Eduardo: surely smaller but probably just as awed), the way he listens to his father retell the Maggid with rapt attention, eyes shining. It feels... magical, Mark knows no other word for it.

Something tightens in his chest not just to witness it, but to be a part of it in a way different than he ever has before. He feels lucky, because this is something big, something important to Eduardo, and to show it to Mark.

He catches Eduardo's eye during as it's almost over, during the final praises of the Hallel. Eduardo gives him a look of complete trust, of gratitude and affection, and Mark is sure that his feelings for Eduardo have never been stronger than at this moment. He shoots back a real smile, the kind with teeth and dimples, trying to communicate everything he's thinking and feeling just in that one look. Eduardo must get some of it, because his smile widens even more at the sight and Mark has butterflies in his stomach.

That night in Eduardo's room they don't fuck so much as make love: slow movements against each other and deep kisses, careful touches. They're both trembling as they come simultaneously in the dark. Neither of them say anything, Eduardo just takes Mark's hand and places it flat over his chest, where Mark can feel Eduardo's heart beating wildly underneath. He swallows the lump in his throat and kisses Eduardo again, trying to show him the feelings Mark himself doesn't even have the words for.

--

The rest of the week passes incredibly quickly, and everything goes well. The two of them spend most of it holed up in Eduardo’s room or the rec room. They make out lazily, not even having to worry about being caught because Eduardo’s parents would dare entering his wing of the house.

Of course, they do other things besides have sex all the time.

One night they tiptoe down to the kitchen at midnight. Eduardo seems completely comfortable in the kitchen, navigating smoothly around and directing Mark what to do: stir this, heat that, do this. Mark does as he’s told, rolling his eyes when Eduardo brushes the cocoa powder out of his hair and kisses the bit of extra chocolate off his lips. When they’re finished, they have brigadeiro, a traditional Brazilian chocolate truffle. It tastes delicious, and his heart feels light as Eduardo holds his hand as they eat them. Mark has to eat one-handed, which is a little difficult, but he doesn’t really mind.

Eduardo also takes him down to the library, pulling out his old meteorology books and telling Mark about how he used to put on his own weather report for his parents and fill his room with drawings of thunderstorms and tornadoes. He touches the Meteorology For Kids! book fondly where the spine is starting to come apart.

By the end of the week, Mark feels closer to Eduardo than he ever thought he could be.
--
“And tonight I know it all has to begin again / So whatever you do, don't let go…”
--“Us Against the World” by Coldplay

Of course Mark’s luck would not hold.

The very last night, Mr. Saverin asks Eduardo if he could talk to him privately after dinner. Eduardo gulps and says yes. When Mark asks him later what it’s going to be about, Eduardo shrugs and says he has no idea. Mark can’t tell if he’s being honest or not.

Eduardo goes down at nine o’clock. Mark hangs out in the guest room, packing his things for tomorrow. At ten-thirty, Mark hears Eduardo stomp up the stairs and run down to the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing the lock.

The guest bedroom now feels incredibly empty as he lays there after finishing his packing, like so much else about the Saverin home. Mark never thought he would be grateful for the incessant, never-ending noise his own family seems to create, but the silence here makes him think differently. It lays like a thick blanket over everything; suffocating and stifling.

Still, he supposes that quiet is at least better than the shouting match from earlier. He hadn’t been downstairs, only heard the voices echo throughout the house. The cold, authoritative tone of Mr. Saverin versus the passionate, desperate pleas of Eduardo, followed by a sharp noise and a deadly quiet, in which Mark was sure something had happened, but there was no way for him to know what.

Mark hadn’t gone to investigate yet. He didn’t want to mess anything up for Eduardo, but more than that he just didn’t know if he could… Somehow he was completely, 100% positive it had to do with him, and maybe whatever he was going to do would just make it worse.

So he’s in the guest room, twiddling his thumbs more or less, when he chances a look at the clock. It’s three in the morning and he’s pretty sure his eyes haven’t closed once. He’s much too agitated to sleep; he had even turned on his laptop and fiddled around for a little bit but that didn’t help either. Apparently he’s too worked up to even code.

Yeah, this is a problem.

He fleetingly considers calling Chris, who is better with this kind of thing, but quickly decides against it. That would mean having to explain everything… The Saverins, and him and Eduardo, and god… that would take way too long. No, probably better to just try and do this himself. Even though it still makes him feel tense and panicky.

Mark throws off the blankets (and can’t help thinking for the millionth time how it is possible that Eduardo survives here in Miami when it is so goddamn hot) and gets out of bed. He creeps down the hallways carefully to avoid being heard, even though he knows it’s not really practical, what with the other wing and all. But hey, better safe than sorry.

He reaches the end of the hallway and taps lightly on Eduardo’s door. There is no response.

But Mark is just as stubborn as Eduardo, and the last thing he’s going to do is give up. If he wants to get any sleep tonight, he needs to deal with this.

So he turns the doorknob and opens the door just a crack. Part of him is surprised that Eduardo unlocked the door, but the other part of him really isn’t. If Eduardo left it open, it means that he was searching for some kind of comfort. From whom, Mark isn’t sure… It could be his mother (who is an expert comforter it seems). Or maybe he’s hoping against all hope for his father to issue an uncharacteristic apology. Either way, he’s pretty sure it’s not meant for him.

A sliver of light pours into the darkened room, and Mark can just barely make out Eduardo’s figure in the dimness of the room. He’s laying on his side, turned away from the door purposefully, and all curled up like he’s in the fetal position.

Eduardo lets out a sigh, and then says tiredly, “Mamãe, I told you… I’m not apologizing to him, não desta vez.”

Mark doesn’t know what to do with that, so he just whispers in-between the door and the doorframe. “Wardo.” He doesn’t mean it to be a question, he just wants to get his attention and know that Eduardo’s okay.

He rolls over on his bed to face the door and peers into the darkness, squinting. “Mark?”

Mark nods, but then mutters “Yeah,” because duh, Eduardo probably can’t see him.

Eduardo sits up, looking a little hesitant. “Come in?” he says, but it comes out like a question or like he’s not sure Mark will want to, which is just ridiculous.

Mark strides in, trying to act more confident than he feels. Eduardo scoots over on the bed and Mark gets in beside him, pulling up the covers and propping himself on an elbow so he can see Eduardo better, who is laying flat on his back.

Now that Mark’s eyes have adjusted to the dim light, he can see Eduardo crystal clear. He can spot the tear tracks down his cheek, the flaming red mark on one side... and now it all makes sense, the sharp noise and then the deafening silence. Something churns inside him as it clicks inside his head, and white hot anger pulses through his blood, matched only by the tingling protectiveness he feels.

Eduardo’s eyes are timid, almost as if he’s afraid Mark will think less of him now that he knows, and he’s shaking.

Gently, Mark raises one hand and places it carefully on his flaming cheek, letting his thumb caress it softly as he looks down at Eduardo. Eduardo’s eyes flutter shut, and he swallows thickly. “Wardo,” Mark murmurs, voice cracking on the word.

The sound Eduardo makes is vague and a little needy as he squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter.

Mark constantly feels out of his league with all this feelings crap, but right now he doesn’t. His heart is breaking as he looks at Eduardo’s expression and his fingers itch to give Mr. Saverin some of his own medicine. But most of all he just wants to wrap Eduardo up in himself, protect him from every painful thing in the world because Eduardo deserves so, so much better than this.

For once, he gives into his instinct.

He shuffles down on the bed so that Eduardo’s back is flush against his front, and he wraps his arms around Eduardo, hugging him tightly to his chest. Wardo makes a wet, cracked noise that sounds like a sob and nuzzles his face into Mark's arm. He's still shaking, but it's okay because Mark is there to keep him together and make sure he stays in one piece. He's letting out these little occasional gasps that make Mark think he's crying again.

Mark hides his face deeper into Eduardo's back, trying to make sense of the mess of emotions swirling around inside him. He's overwhelmed, but he wonders distantly if this is the good kind; because for once he's giving Eduardo exactly what he needs.

Mark doesn't know how long they stay like that before Eduardo finally exhales-shaky and uneven but whole. He seems to calm a little after that, and they just breathe together for a while before Eduardo turns in Mark's arms so they are face to face.

He reaches up to carefully touch Mark's face, so carefully it is almost reverent. It makes something tighten in Mark's chest. Eduardo murmurs, "Thank you," so softly, and then Mark knows exactly what the knot in his heart is.

It's love.

It's an entirely new feeling for him. He knows what it feels like to love a family member or a friend, but this is different... Scarier.

A part of him feels like saying "duh", because maybe on some level this was always the case. Maybe he's always been at least a little in love with Wardo. But in any case, it feels like a revelation, and he wants to say it out loud.

He wants Eduardo to know here, at his most vulnerable, that Mark still thinks he's beautiful and worth something and strong.

He wants Wardo to be the first person he says it to.

"Wardo, I..." he begins.

But then he sees how Eduardo is looking at him expectantly, and something about the expression scares him. Like he's worried he can't live up to it.

So his voice sticks in his throat, and Mark coughs and recovers. He opens his mouth, and he knows if he can't say it (at least in those three words), he still wants to communicate it somehow.

So instead he says, in a completely composed voice, "I'm really glad you brought me here."

And this is true too. He knows bringing him here, showing him the side of himself that he never lets on about at school, must not be an easy thing to do. He's so grateful to him, and he wants Eduardo to know that.

Eduardo smiles a little brokenly, and gives Mark one sweet, short kiss on the lips. "'Me too," he confesses.

They sleep then, and Mark dreams of the smile on Eduardo's face when Mark will say it.

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