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

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“What did you get for the price of my head, was it worth it? / Did you forget that you said what you said when you slept in my bed?”
--“It’s All My Fault” by Nicholas Roy

Mark knows that things won’t be the same at Harvard. They just can’t. They have classes to go to and other people to hang out with and they can’t just drop everything to be with each other all the time, Mark is aware of that. But he feels pretty confident that they can adjust in their new roles.

He’s a little hurt when Eduardo turns to him, as soon as they get in taxi to take them to campus, and says, “Mark, I don’t think we should tell anyone about this.” He’s hurt, but he understands. After all, he did just spend a week witnessing how Eduardo’s family worked. Eduardo’s just not ready for it-for them, to make whatever the fuck they’re doing public. That makes sense.

But at the same time, Mark had kind of allowed himself to hope otherwise. He figures this is all his own stupid fault.

So he nods mutely, looking down at his hands. He tries to arrange his face into something resembling understanding as he looks up at Eduardo, who looks scared and sad and confused, all things Mark never wanted to make him.

He tries for a reassuring smile, but it comes out a little wobbly. “Of course, Wardo. Don’t worry about it.”

Eduardo heaves a sigh of relief and Mark tries to tell himself that’s all he wanted.

--

At first, it’s okay, the keeping it a secret thing. It’s a little bit of a thrill, even, to be discreet about it. It’s in the way Mark will fix Eduardo with a look of intense concentration and not look away until Eduardo turns away stuttering, ears pink. It’s how Eduardo will grab his wrist and drag him into an empty room to push him up against the nearest wall and kiss him, bruising. It’s Mark sucking Eduardo off thoroughly in his room, the two of them separated from Chris and Dustin by only one thin wall, the way Mark order him: Wardo, you have to be quiet, and in the way Eduardo will bite down on his lip so hard to keep any sound from escaping. The way he comes with nothing but Mark’s name soft on his lips, the way that when Mark makes his way back up to kiss him they will both taste a little blood.

And then it isn’t.

They’re almost caught, just once. It’s in Kirkland, just the two of them. Eduardo is about to lean down and kiss Mark, his smile incandescent in a way that makes Mark’s pulse speed up. And then Chris bursts through the door and Eduardo jumps back, looking frenzied and worried, contented smile gone. Chris, being the king of tact that he is, moves quickly, stumbling around and muttering about forgetting his textbook, but Eduardo just stares fixedly ahead at the TV, avoiding Chris’ eyes and determinedly not looking at Mark.

Chris shoots Mark a look on his way out, slightly worried and apologetic. Mark shakes his head minutely at him, and hopes to god that Chris gets it.

Mark turns back to look at Eduardo after that, and for once his face is openly blown apart, showing every bit of vulnerability that Mark had always tried to chase away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking on the word, eyes brimming with an emotion Mark can’t identify. So he just curls into his side and wraps his arms around him, murmuring, “It’s fine” and trying not to notice the way Eduardo is shaking.

--

After that, the only time they do anything is in Eduardo’s single. Which is great, in a different way, because there is nothing Mark likes more than the way his body thrums when Eduardo is spread out beneath him, golden and panting. But soon, even that slows and becomes more infrequent. Eduardo is ducking around Mark at every opportunity, claiming he has to go to a study group or an investor’s meeting or that he has a class he just can’t afford to miss.

Mark tries not to feel wounded by it, tries to be okay with everything. But he’s increasingly not.

And okay, Mark hasn’t exactly had a best friend before, but he’s pretty sure that this isn’t something you do to them. You don’t sleep with them and act like they’re everything and then make them keep it a secret. And you certainly don’t just stop without any explanation, avoiding them at every opportunity, without so much as a warning.

(If he’s being brutally honest with himself, Mark is pretty sure you’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend either, but, well. He can’t help it. That ship sailed for Mark a long time ago.)

It’s all of this that makes him say it, when Chris and Dustin are out at some stupid party. Eduardo’s sprawled out on his bed, studying, and Mark is at his desk, tapping away on his computer because at least code makes sense. He grits out, “We need to stop doing this,” saying the words as fast as he can so that none of the rawness will show.

Eduardo looks up from his book, face like a deer in the headlights. Mark looks up at him blankly, even though everything inside of him is screaming that’s not what I really want, just stick up for yourself, fight for us so I feel like I’m not in this alone.

But Eduardo just looks back down and says, “Okay,” looking resigned. And that’s that.

--

After which there is Erica, who is fine. She’s nice to Mark and she’s straightforward, which fuck, is great. Everything Mark wants out of a relationship.

He’s not really fair to her though. He knows that. Sometimes he’s cold and standoffish and maybe even downright mean. But it’s okay, because she just shakes it off if it’s unimportant, not worth fighting over, and assumes that this unpredictability, the distance he insists upon, is just another part of him. She doesn’t know any better, and he doesn’t give her any reason to. If it’s really important, she will fight him on it, will call him out and tell him to stop being an asshole. And maybe he needs a little bit of that anyway.

It’s also probably wrong the way Mark will hold her hand or whisper in her ear when Eduardo’s around. Not to make him jealous or hurt him or anything, no; Mark’s only intention is to get Eduardo to do something about it, something other than look away and grit his teeth.

In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway, because Erica gets fed up with him regardless; calls him an asshole and walks away. Mark is so apathetic about the whole thing he doesn’t even fully understand what he did wrong this time and can’t be bothered to care, thinks fuck it and goes back to his dorm and codes.

And then Eduardo’s there, looking down at Mark so open and hopeful, saying “I’m here for you” and he’s so ready to jump back into it all again. But Mark isn’t. There was a time when he would do anything for Eduardo but that time is gone. He’s not about to put himself through the grinder again, get the happiness only to put up with the uncertainty and fear and heartbreak that are sure to follow. He won’t do it.

So he lies, says, “No, I need the algorithm…” and shuts it down, even though every part of him is rebelling inside. Eduardo goes along with it and the bitter part of Mark says to the rest of him: see, I told you so..

There are other moments along the way when Mark thinks that maybe, just maybe Eduardo wants to go back.

For one thing, there’s the day TheFacebook goes live. Dustin is rambling about some Stephanie chick and has Mark ever seen her with anyone?. In complete honesty, everything that’s happened lately has basically given him a fuck you attitude toward everyone else’s happiness, but even if that wasn’t the case, he hasn’t slept in the last week because everything has just been TheFacebook, TheFacebook, TheFacebook racing through his brain. So he really couldn’t care less about Dustin’s Stephanie ordeal.

He hears himself saying, as if from far away, “People don’t walk around with a sign on them that… that says…” and bam, it hits him like a truck. It feels revolutionary.

Relationship status.

Knowing exactly where you stand. Something everyone wants, (and after the past eight and a half months) Mark more than most.

Everything feels like a blur until Eduardo is looking at him and saying, “You have no idea what this is going to mean to my father,” and then Mark, on instinct says, “Sure I do.”

Because he’s not going to forget spring break. He doesn’t think he can. Mark is brave enough to meet Eduardo’s eyes for a moment and is surprised to see a soft smile. It’s like an acknowledgement of all the things they never talk about, that time, and then Eduardo says, with his voice a little thick, “That looks really good.”

Mark wants so desperately to do something. To reach over and touch Eduardo’s hand or even just lean close and kiss him. But his heart is stuck in his throat and he looks away, and the moment is gone.

And then there is that night at the bar, when all he can hear is Eduardo’s breathing on the other side of the stall and all he can see is the way he smiles at him afterwards, Mark is positive that it’s what Eduardo wants. And Mark is actually considering it. The way Eduardo is looking at him, it’s hard not to.

But then he spots Erica. He has every intention of apologizing to her, of telling her about TheFacebook and explaining how it’s really because of her. Erica inspired Facemash, which sparked TheFacebook, which is going to change the world. He wants to apologize and he wants to thank her.

But she is downright frosty to him, and that makes his mind up for him. He never even felt the same way about her of course, but it’s the same story over again. It reminds him how people can change in the blink of an eye. He saw it with Eduardo, and now he’s seen it with Erica, and he won’t do it again. Mark leaves the bar with one solitary thought drumming it his head: expansion, expansion, expansion.

--

It isn’t until after the millionth member party, watching Eduardo turn and walk away when it hits him. This is it, they’ve been playing a huge fucking game of chicken and now it’s over. Eduardo promised to come back for everything, but Mark is sure that the everything Eduardo means is not the kind that Mark wants. He means the kind that will hurt.

And it does. The depositions cut him like a knife because he’s forced to sit on the opposite side of the table for hours and a time with Eduardo looking at him indifferently while Mark tries desperately to remember all the times the opposite was true. That only makes it worse, as his mind’s eye compares this Eduardo with the one who used to look at Mark like he was something special.

All he wants to do is say something. He wants the chance to talk to Eduardo without a full fucking legal team present, watching his every move. He doesn’t even want to say anything big. He just wants to ask Eduardo how he is, to make sure he’s okay. Chris has been giving him updates when he’s asked, but these are really just bare bones. It’s hard to go from knowing everything about Eduardo to just being assured that he’s “fine.”

Besides, Chris never knew Eduardo as intimately as Mark did. He has no idea what Eduardo’s family is like, and there’s no way for Mark to know if Eduardo’s father is giving him shit for this or if maybe Eduardo’s shaken him off completely.

But it isn't like Mark's pining over him. He's really not. He's even dated a little since everything has happened. Well, he classifies it as dating at least. Chris calls it fucking, since he always leaves before morning, but whatever. Semantics.

Either way, he's not moping around and listening to sad love songs and being a total pathetic mess over Eduardo. He'd just like to talk to the guy, that's all. And they were best friends. They owe each other at least that much.

Regardless, it's really not a big deal. Mark is fine.

Except for when he isn’t.

These are the days when the thought of Miami creeps up on him. He avoids it at every turn, and so once in a while it just demands to be felt. When it happens, it reverberates down to his bones. He has to curl up on his couch or his office or anywhere private and just sit there, subject himself to the unrelenting pain and frustration and regret that washes over him in waves. It's the only way he knows how to make it go away.

And deep down, he knows that this is why he wants to talk to Eduardo. He wants to know if he feels it too.

--

“And there will come a time, you'll see / With no more tears / And love will not break your heart / But dismiss your fears…”
--“After the Storm” by Mumford and Sons

Mark is waiting by the elevator, impatiently tapping his foot and feeling angry at everything.

The depositions are over, and he should feel lighter… At least that’s what his therapist says. Tying up these loose ends is just going to make things easier, Mr. Zuckerberg.

Fuck that. Things don’t feel easier at all.

The depositions have been a major stressor, that is true. They’ve taken time away from Facebook, his friends, he’s had to be in New York all the time, and it sucks. It really does, and from that end of things he’s very glad that they’re done with.

But on the other hand, he just signed papers settling with Eduardo, ultimately saying that won’t ever have to see each other again, let alone speak to each other. And nothing about that makes him feel better, if he’s being perfectly honest.

The elevator doors finally ding and slide open, and Mark starts to walk inside irritably (because he’s been doing everything irritably lately, why should he stop now), until he sees who else is in there and stops short.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Eduardo bites out under his breath, slumping against the back wall of the elevator.

Mark winces at the sharpness in the words, but hesitantly enters the elevator the rest of the way, because he is not fucking taking the stairs. They’ve just signed the papers; they can be civil towards one another. It’s going to happen sooner or later, so why not now?

He and Eduardo stand on opposite sides of the elevator, and Mark thinks about how damn appropriate that is. Like parallel lines, always going in the same direction but never intersecting. Mark pinches the bridge of his nose at the thought, because if he’s having these kind of thoughts he’s either becoming way more sappy than he ever wanted to be, or he’s still suffering from all the alcohol he consumed last night (So what if he knew he would sign the settlement papers today and wanted to get drunk? It doesn’t mean anything. Besides, Mark’s always been a sentimental drunk, this isn’t exactly news.).

Eduardo clears his throat, and suddenly Mark can’t stand the silence anymore; it is itch on his skin and he just needs to break it before he goes insane.

“So,” he begins, working up a sigh and refusing to look over at Eduardo, instead staring intensely at the door like he can set it on fire. “I hear you’re off to Singapore.”

Out of his peripheral vision he can see Eduardo clench and unclench his teeth, something he always used to do to calm down back in college. Mark is probably a little happier than is proper that he’s getting a rise out of Eduardo, because shit, seeing Eduardo sit emotionless and cold on the opposite side of the table for the entire depositions is too long.

Eduardo finally nods once, even if he seems to do it begrudgingly, like he’s forcing himself. All that fucking training about how to be a polite businessman from his father is coming out, even now, and at the thought Mark finds himself lit up with rage, just dying to pick a fight.

“Running away, that’s always been something you excelled at,” Mark spews out nastily, more so than is necessary, if he’s being totally truthful with himself.

At that, Eduardo moves fast, stepping forward quickly and pulling out the emergency stop button and spinning so he’s leaning against the door, facing Mark head on. Mark’s taken aback, he hadn’t expected Eduardo to rise to the bait-even less so to be standing directly in front of him and looking him fiercely in the eye. Mark feels more than a little blindsided.

“I’m good at running away? Are you really that blind? What is there left to run away from Mark, please, enlighten me!” Eduardo is mad, angrier than Mark has ever seen him, red in the face from infuriation, spitting out the words in Mark’s face like barbs. Then he shakes his head and runs his hand across his forehead, an old nervous gesture Mark remembers, and the memories of it flash through his head (the network’s down, the cease and desist letter, the marlins and the trout). “Besides, you were better at it than me, just like always, at everything, you were always better--”

“Of course you’re good at running away, Wardo--”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore, Mark, you’ve lost that right--”

“What the fuck ever, it doesn’t change the fact that that night at the Palo Alto house I told you to stay and you didn’t even hear, you weren’t even listening, just walked right out the door and paraded away to freeze the account--”

“Well what about you after Miami, Mark?” Eduardo shouts, and Mark flinches at the words. He doesn’t expect to, obviously, it’s just that he has to consciously remind himself not to think about Miami every day so hearing it out of Eduardo’s mouth hurts twice as much. There is a flash of triumph in Eduardo’s eyes at his reaction. “Yeah, let’s talk about after Miami. You just ran to Erica, ran to Facebook, the dilution; ran to anyone or anything that didn’t make you face up to the facts. You just ended it, and as soon as you had a chance, you left. How long were you waiting around to break up with me, Mark? God, were you really that fucking scared of being with me-that repulsed by me…”

Eduardo cuts himself off with a jagged exhale, and Mark can’t do anything but look at him, really see the hurt in his eyes and he thinks that maybe this has been bothering Eduardo for a while. Eduardo tightens his hands into fists and Mark takes in the exhaustion in his brow, the wrinkles that weren’t there before, and it’s like Eduardo has aged years before his eyes.

He never really thought of Eduardo as an angry person, and yet here he is, screaming at Mark… and suddenly it hits him that he doesn’t recognize the person in front of him. He’s just someone who used to be his best friend. That’s all. He’s not the same.

Mark can’t wipe the look of awe off his face; he just gapes at Eduardo and watches him deflate. When they finally break eye contact (and it feels like an eternity later), Mark speaks.

“You know what, I did make a lot of mistakes,” he begins, his normal tone sounding much too soft after their raised voices, still vibrating in his ears. “And I would love to go back in time and change them, but I can’t. The next best thing I can do is apologize and try to explain, but you know what?”

Eduardo looks up at him, clearly drained. Mark looks at him intently, trying to communicate things in his eyes that he just can’t bring himself to say.

“When I do apologize and explain, it’s going to be to my friend. It’s going to be to someone who’s ready to listen, not to someone who’s still too furious with me to even give me a chance. It’ll be to Wardo,” he states, emphasizing the word and looking Eduardo up and down, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know who you are.”

Then he steps right into Eduardo’s space, hears the quick, surprised intake of breath, like Eduardo’s afraid (or maybe hoping?) Mark is going to reach out and touch him. But he reaches right past him and pushes the emergency button in with a harsh jab.

They look at each other fixedly, and then there is another ding signaling they’ve reached the floor. Mark murmurs, “Excuse me,” but Eduardo doesn’t move, just shuts his eyes like he’s trying to hold back tears. So Mark pushes past him, even though it’s not his floor, and doesn’t look back.

--

“And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed / You felt as if you'd just woke up…”
--“First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes

So Eduardo’s out of his life, but not completely. In fact, if he was completely gone it would probably be easier to move on.

He still has to see Eduardo every once in a while at business functions. Mostly, Chris and the rest of his team are pretty good about scheduling things so that he can avoid it whenever possible, but every so often, it just has to happen.

It used to really fucking hurt.

It was so awful because it was the polite business man thing again, and Mark had always despised it, but when it’s turned on him he hates it that much more. They shake hands and Eduardo will give him a tight, forced grimace, eyes blank. Mark used to wake up at night, breath quick, heart pounding, and chest tight because all he could see when he closed his eyes was that look from Eduardo.

But things are better now.

It’s a combination of things.

Time is the biggest factor. He doesn’t stop missing Eduardo, but he does stop missing him quite so fiercely. Now instead of a sharp, stabbing pain it is more of a dull ache, the kind that settles into his body and never quite leaves. Mark is pretty sure that it will always be a part of him now, something he won’t ever be able to let go of completely. It’s just another way he defines himself now. Mark Zuckerberg: lives in Palo Alto, three sisters, CEO of Facebook, and forever brokenhearted over Eduardo Saverin.

There are other reasons too. He’s trying to be kinder to himself. Chris and Dustin encouraged him to seek help after a terrifying collapse not long after he met Eduardo in the elevator, which had been caused by Mark’s refusal to eat anything that wasn’t Red Vines, drink anything that wasn’t water, or sleep at all for a week and a half. So now he sees a therapist once a week.

They talk about a lot of things. Growing up, Eduardo, his stressors at work, Eduardo, his family, Eduardo, Harvard, Eduardo. They do a lot of talking about Eduardo. It’s pretty much his therapist’s favorite subject.

And okay, as much as Mark doesn’t like to think about Eduardo, let alone talk about him, therapy is kind of good. It’s what makes stop having meaningless one night stands and hating himself afterward, it’s what pushes him to start working normal hours at the office, it’s what makes him get a dog to try and learn to love something back. Now Mark is the kind of person who has a post it on his monitor at work that reads, “Think good thoughts.”

But it works.

Now whenever he’s at some conference or benefit and sees Eduardo across the room, he doesn’t feel like vomiting. When they shake hands, he can smile tentatively and look at him without focusing on the hard set of his eyes, the harsh thin line of his mouth. He reminds himself that time and distance have done wonders for him, and he hopes from afar that they’re doing the same for Eduardo.

He expects the change is gradual, the way it was for him, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when he only sees Eduardo briefly every six months. It feels like one time, he’s there, same as always, avoiding Mark’s eyes and looking pained to see him, and them wham Eduardo is approaching him from across the room and reaching out his hand.

Mark’s sentence trails off as he gapes at Eduardo, and whoever he was speaking to excuses themselves. “Mark,” he says, and there is a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Mark wants nothing more than to pinch himself.

Instead he extends his hand, looks Eduardo in the eye and says, “I’m sorry.”

Eduardo blinks at him, like he wasn’t expecting it. He’s silent for a minute and his smile dies. Inside Mark is already panicking, because jesus christ he thought this was one thing he could not screw up. Eduardo swallows.

“That’s it?”

Mark winces. “I should have given it to you anyway. Making you think you had to earn it was a shitty thing to do.”

Eduardo’s at a loss for words. He shakes his head back and forth a little and withdraws his hand, looking up at Mark like he doesn’t understand. So Mark continues.

“I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry about the dilution and the depositions. If I had to do it over again, I’d do everything differently.”

Eduardo’s eyes narrow just slightly at that, a tiny signal of disbelief. Mark continues, his voice even more adamant. He has to convince him. s

“I would! Wardo, I wouldn’t even move the company out to Palo Alto in the first place! I wouldn’t have said those things that made you freeze the account. I would have actually talked to you about everything that was going on instead just assuming you didn’t want to be a part of Facebook anymore.” His eyes are locked with Eduardo’s and he refuses to let them fall, because he anticipates that the next part is going to be the hardest. But he thinks Eduardo needs to hear it as much as he needs to say it.

Mark lowers his voice. “And with us, with Miami… I would have done that differently too. Dammit Wardo, I was just so confused and I didn’t know what to do and… And we were both messed up.” Eduardo blushes a little and his face twitches a little, like he’s remembering and it hurts. Mark knows it probably does, he hasn’t forgotten.

“But I’m better now. I’ve worked through a bunch of shit and I think I can actually be a fully functional human being and handle a relationship now,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Eduardo cracks a small smile, which feels like a victory in itself. Mark allows himself a moment of triumph before he sobers up and plows on.

“Losing you is the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I want you back in my life.”

Eduardo exhales, like the words are a punch in the gut, and something in Mark’s stomach twists in nervousness, because he’s so shit at this stuff, but it’s important. He needs Eduardo to know.

“It doesn’t have to be in, you know, that way, but… yeah. I miss you.” The words feel heavy as they trip off his tongue and he feels like vomiting when Eduardo looks at the ground, toeing the carpet with his shoe.

This is probably the scariest thing he’s ever done. If it goes badly he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able how to recover. He’ll just have to move into his therapist’s office permanently.

He’s already planning how he’s going to explain his complete regression to her when Eduardo finally looks up at Mark, searching his face for… something. Mark doesn’t know what. Sincerity, maybe?

Whatever it is, Eduardo seems to find it there, because he murmurs “goddammit” under his breath and grabs Mark’s wrist, dragging him away from the conference room and into a darkened office nearby. Mark follows along blindly, still reeling from the adrenaline his confession sent pulsing through his veins, and then they are stopped.

Eduardo lets go of Mark’s arm and takes a couple steps back, carding his hand through his hair. His eyes are far away, like he’s trying to work out what best to say. Finally he takes a deep breath and starts to speak. Mark’s heart is thudding so loudly he swears Eduardo can probably hear it.

He laughs a little nervously. “I swear, I was just going to come here and shake your hand and walk away.”

Mark’s face must fall, because then Eduardo is stepping forward, grabbing his hand right away again as Mark tries to breathe. “No, no, Mark-It’s not that I didn’t want you to say that; you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined that scenario. And I feel the same way. Exactly the same.”

He can’t help it. “Really?” he squeaks. He doesn’t know what his face looks like but he’s pretty sure it’s in awe and he feels like such a sap because Eduardo’s words have just made his heart literally skip a beat.

Eduardo smiles, like he likes what he sees there anyway. He nods, small and reassuring, murmuring back, “Yeah,” and tangling their fingers together.

There’s a beat of silence between them before Mark is reaching up on his tiptoes to kiss Eduardo. It’s tentative and soft, because he doesn’t know if Eduardo wants this anyway, but he just can’t help it. Eduardo makes a soft noise of surprise but kisses back, reaching to cradle the back of Mark’s head with his free hand.

Mark had forgotten what kissing Eduardo was like. He’d clearly forgotten that kissing Eduardo is better than kissing anyone else ever, because he could just do this all day.

But Eduardo pulls away much too soon. He looks into Mark’s eyes and then rests his forehead against Mark’s, breathing out slowly. “Shit, Mark.”

Mark bites his lip to keep from talking and shattering the moment, because he wants to remember every minute detail about this. He wants to remember the way Eduardo is looking at him like he’s a miracle in the inky blackness of this unfamiliar office, the way their kiss had felt tentative but promising, the way that even the air around them seemed charged with nervous electricity.

Eduardo squeezes Mark’s hand and rolls his eyes at himself. “What I meant to say earlier is that we should take this slow.”

Mark nods. He’ll say yes to anything right now, but he really does agree. He’s older now, and he’s learned the value of waiting, of being sure. His motto used to be “move fast and break things”, and he used to apply it to every aspect of his life. But he has learned that while that works for business, patience and certainty are good things in his personal life.

Eduardo turns red again, and their faces are so close that Mark can practically feel the heat. Eduardo breaks eye contact and looks down at the floor, looking uncertain. “And I’m sorry too. I know that I made it out like what happened between us-the way we fell apart-was all your fault, and it wasn’t. I made mistakes too, and I’m not proud of them, but I want us to do better this time. I know we can.”

He looks back up at Mark and there is nothing but fierce determination there now-complete resolve, even though his voice is quieter. “You’re right, I was really screwed up, my family… Anyway, I’ve grown up too, and I’m ready for this.” He nods again, like he’s reassuring himself just as much as he’s reassuring Mark.

Eduardo is pressing their lips back together again before Mark is even aware of it, fervent and a little more desperate this time. Mark opens his mouth and Eduardo’s tongue works its way inside, and Mark’s pulse is banging at a thousand miles an hour. Eduardo’s got both his hands tangled in Mark’s curls and Mark has his hands fisted in the front of Eduardo’s stupid suit, which he’s probably wrinkling. However, he just can’t bring himself to care, not when Eduardo is kissing him and touching him like this, like they’re trying to remind themselves of everything. God, Mark forgot how good this was.

They break away to pant against each other, still tangled together and faces only centimeters away. Eduardo’s eyes are still closed, and he’s shaking his head back and forth a little as he says, “Fuck Mark, I used to think about this-Miami, you-and I couldn’t breathe it hurt so bad…” He sounds like he’s close to tears but Mark can tell they are the good kind, the kind you get when you’re overwhelmed with everything wonderful that’s happening to you.

And there it is, the answer to that question from long ago. He thinks to himself that this is why it will work this time, because they have both come so far and learned so much and gotten better in ways they didn’t even know they needed.

“Shh,” Mark quiets him. “Me too, me too…”

He kisses Eduardo again, trying to keep it measured to calm him down, and when they pull back he separates them completely. Eduardo keeps a hold of his shirt sleeve, like he needs something there to hold onto. Mark laughs a little, but kindly. “We said we were gonna go slow…”

Eduardo throws his head back and laughs at that, like he had forgotten completely. Mark feels everything inside of him warm at the sight, because it’s so different-so much better than seeing that cold, alien Eduardo across from his at the deposition table or standing opposite him in the elevator.

Eduardo quiets, but he’s still grinning as he nods in agreement. “Okay. We’re going to go slow.”

Mark’s a little disappointed at that now, because really, after that slow is the last thing on his mind, but deep down he knows Eduardo is right. They need slow; they need to remember how to be friends with each other before they plunge back into this again.

Someone passes by the office and looks in at them fleetingly as they continue, and Mark is suddenly very glad they’ve gathered themselves. Eduardo flushes, straightens his clothes a little and sighs, looking up at Mark a little disappointed. “I should go.”

Inwardly, Mark is completely against this plan, but the conference is over and people are starting to leave, hushed noise starting to filter its way out to them. As perfect as this has been, it has to end. And that’s okay, because nothing is really over. It’s just beginning.

Eduardo tugs on Mark’s sleeve once and presses a quick kiss to his forehead, easing out the worry lines there. When he pulls back, he is smirking mischievously. “I’ll call you.”

Mark rolls his eyes, because sometimes it’s hard for him to believe Eduardo is a real person: how can someone be so full of raw emotion one second and then be completely silly and playful the next? But he plays along, calling out, “Will you?” as Eduardo walks backwards towards the door.

He pauses at the threshold, smirk widening into a grin that is so bright Mark swears it lights up the room. “Of course,” he smiles, and Mark feels his heart do a cartwheel, even though he had no doubt.

“I promise you, Mark Zuckerberg. You won’t be able to get rid of me now.”

Mark beams back at him a little shyly, the kind of smile he knows Eduardo always used to like best because you could see just a hint of his dimples. “I certainly hope not,” Mark replies, and then Eduardo smile pulls up one last time and he turns to leave. Mark walks close to the glass wall of the office and watches Eduardo make his way out. It feels like everything.

--

“And they said you were the crooked kind / And that you'd never have no worth / But you were always gold to me…”
--“Always Gold” by Radical Face

The next time he sees Eduardo, it’s much different.

They’ve been keeping in touch, legitimately trying to rebuild things for two months from opposite sides of the planet. And it’s difficult; Mark isn’t going to pretend it isn’t. There are times that all he wants is to skip over this hard part and go right back to where they were before, but he has learned that it doesn’t work like that. There have to be fights, and anger, and misunderstandings, and fumbling and worry and hang-ups and tears, sometimes.

The thing is, no one ever told Mark that relationships were worth the hard work. He’d always assumed that it would just be better not to give away too much of himself, to be indifferent to everything and everyone so that way he couldn’t get hurt. He never imagined that looking forward to a Facebook chat or a Skype date or a phone call late at night would help him make it through the day, that something as small as a smile or a laugh would make him completely forget the point of an argument.

He understands now that allowing yourself to let your guard down, to be vulnerable, to let someone have a little piece of you, is truly half the battle. Palo Alto to Singapore may be halfway around the world, but it doesn’t feel nearly as far as Palo Alto to New York did that one summer, because they’re both trying. They are back at square one, relearning (arguably, learning for the first time), how to communicate with each other, feeling out their own little language around the way.

So when Eduardo suggests that he fly out for the weekend, Mark is initially a little worried. They’ve gone slow, just like they promised, built this thing up like an unsteady tower of blocks, and he’s so afraid that seeing each other again will obliterate all that careful effort. Last time certainly proved that when they’re face to face, slow is not their strong point. But after a day of panic, he finally figures if they’ve made it this far, they can make it through anything. And so he allows himself to be a little bit excited about seeing Eduardo again.

Eduardo shows up at his door, rumpled from the plane ride. Everything about him looks bone-heavy exhausted. But his face lights up when he sees Mark, and Mark’s answering smile is so wide his face hurts.

“Hey,” Eduardo says, still grinning, a bag slung over one shoulder and a suitcase in the other hand, looking up at Mark from the doorstep with bright, pleased eyes.

“Hi,” Mark replies.

They just stand like that for a minute or so, caught in the moment. Part of Mark wants to usher Eduardo inside, itching to speed things along because he’s been so anxious for this, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to allow things to unfold naturally, let the moment be itself. This time there is none of the trembling nervousness thrumming in the air between them, it has been replaced instead by a careful thrill and it gives Mark goosebumps.

Mark’s dog Beast scrambles to them and barks, jumping up to put his front paws on Eduardo’s legs. It breaks the moment, making both of them catch their breath and laugh a little anxiously. Eduardo blushes and scratches the back of his neck, leaning down to pet the dog and coo at him a little. Mark clears his throat and steps aside. “D’you want to come in?”

“Yeah,” Eduardo breathes, gathering his things and stepping inside, Beast winding circles around his legs. Mark maneuvers so he’s not standing right in Eduardo’s space, but it’s still close enough that he can smell Eduardo’s cologne as he takes off his coat. His heart beats a little faster as he realizes it’s the same one from college, and he feels a little dizzy.

Eduardo turns around and wipes his palms on his ridiculously formal pants, looking as keyed up as Mark feels, never mind that he’s just finished an eighteen hour flight and should by all rights be exhausted.

Mark feels ridiculous, because he doesn’t know what to do. Things used to be so effortless with Eduardo and he’s terrified that after everything, things will be forced. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle that.

“What time is it in Singapore right now?” he asks instead, trying to remain composed but leaning back against the door and biting his lip a little out of jumpiness.

In response Eduardo lets out a shaky laugh. “It’s ten o’clock here, so…” Mark can see him doing the math in his head and smiles a little against his will, “two o’clock in the afternoon?” Eduardo hazards. “With the flights and everything I really haven’t slept, but I don’t really feel tired either,” he finishes with a shrug.

Mark nods thoughtfully and returns the shrug. “We could watch a movie,” he offers.

Eduardo smiles softly and agrees.

And so that’s how they end up laughing themselves breathless while Eduardo sits criss-cross on the carpet with Beast in his lap and Mark lays flat on the couch, clutching his stomach and wiping the tears from his eyes.

“You are absurd,” Eduardo manages through the giggles. “How is it possible that the only movies you own are the Star Wars saga and the entire Pixar collection? How old are you, eight?”

Seeing the whole thing from Eduardo’s perspective makes it infinitely more ludicrous in his own eyes. “I’m just… I’m picky about movies, okay?” he says, gasping for breath through his laughter.

“Oh yeah,” Eduardo chuckles, “You’re a regular film critic who owns The Phantom Menace.”

Mark hiccups, trying to calm his hysterics. “The pod race sequence isn’t that bad, Wardo!” he protests.

They argue teasingly the whole way through the movie: Mark defends the integrity of young Anakin, Qui-Gon Jinn, and of course, the pod races. Eduardo points out the gaping timeline flaws, the terrible writing, obviously Jar-Jar Binks. They start out sitting about two feet apart on the couch, but as the movie goes on and they get more and more giddy they managed to inch closer and closer so Mark’s legs are in Eduardo’s lap and it feels natural, like hanging out in Kirkland or in Eduardo’s bedroom in Miami, and Mark feels totally at ease.

The movie comes to an end, and they’re coming down from their high, even though Eduardo is still red in the face from laughing so hard. Mark grabs the remote and turns off the TV, sighing as he does so. Eduardo turns to look at him and there’s an indescribable fondness in his eyes, It makes Mark’s heart hurt not just because he feels it too, but also because he knows it’s exactly what he hadn’t noticed before.

He blushes under Eduardo’s steady gaze and feels so incredibly lucky.

Self-consciousness washes over Eduardo’s face and Mark wants to chase it away, but he doesn’t know how and before he can even try, Eduardo is hopping off the couch. “I should go to bed,” he asserts.

Mark sighs a little bit, trying not to let his face fall as he gets up as well. “I’ll show you to the guest room.”

He lies in his own bed soon after, marveling at how well everything went and trying to convince himself that it was actually real. It’s 1:30 in the morning and he should be exhausted, he usually is by this point (he can’t code into the night anymore, he’s too old for that), but he’s too tense to sleep.

So he gets up and heads down the hall to the guest room, tiptoeing a little. He creaks the door to the guest room open just a little bit, and whispers into the shadows, “Wardo?”

Eduardo rolls over and squints into the dark and lets out a soft “Mark?” from the far side of the bed.

Mark hovers uncertainly in the doorway, and thinks about how he is so tired of waiting. Not to say that the waiting and going slow hasn’t been worth it, but now Eduardo is in his house and he knows it’s not just him, he’s pretty sure he can’t screw this up this time, and he’s sure this is what we wants. He’s through denying himself.

Eduardo must be able to see his inner debate because he laughs a little, soft in the quiet of the room but unmistakably tender. “Get in here.”

Mark smiles, heads in, and sits on the corner of the bed tentatively. Eduardo beams at him and shakes his head. “Not like that,” he says, grabbing Mark’s hands and pulling him down so that they’re both lying down and Mark’s arms are wrapped around him. They’re holding each other just like that night in Miami, and Mark knows that this time he can do this, he appreciates exactly what he has and he’s not letting it go, not going to let it get away from him again.

Mark sighs and breathes in Eduardo. He doesn’t just feel happy, he feels like they’ve finally come full circle and they’re back where they belong.

“Welcome home, Wardo,” he whispers into his skin, and Eduardo squeezes one of Mark’s hands that he’s holding captive.

“I love you,” he whispers in reply and Mark feels him stiffen almost immediately, like the words just tumbled out of his mouth without warning and now he’s regretting them. Mark wants to say something in reply, wants to dispel Eduardo’s fears, but he can’t-his mind is too busy replaying the words over and over in his head (I love you, I love you, I love you…).

Then he shifts in Mark’s arms so they’re face to face, wincing a little like the words pain him. “Shit, Mark, I’m sorry... I didn’t mean-that wasn’t supposed to-it’s too early--”

Mark throws his head back and laughs, interrupting Eduardo’s frantic apologies, full and loud and bright in the honeyed stillness of the room. He just can’t help it. Eduardo looks at him with worry swirling around in his eyes. “Early? Fuck, Wardo, early is the last thing it is… It’s way overdue.” Then he shakes his head, because that’s not what he means, shit. “I mean-not just you, me too-for both of us,” he tries, hating how broken he sounds.

Eduardo’s face morphs into an expression of awe and something like wonder, and Mark wants to remember it forever. Eduardo lifts one of his hands and places it gently on Mark’s face, caressing his cheekbone with his thumb. Mark feels himself flush there and he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed; he doesn’t even know what emotions he is feeling… They are too many to name.

“Really?” Eduardo exhales, his voice hopeful, eyes shining, and Mark’s heart soars.

Mark bites his lip to stave off the smile which is insistently tugging up the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, Wardo, of course… I love you too, I always did. I’ve wanted to say it forever, I almost said it in Miami, but I was…” he takes a breath and looks down, unable to look Eduardo in the eye, because he feels so guilty about the person he used to be, back when he didn’t know everything he had. “I was a stupid, scared kid, and I wasn’t brave, and I tried but I couldn’t, Wardo, you have to, have to know how much I wanted to--”

Eduardo cuts him off with a kiss, and Mark can feel the tears on his face, knows they’re on his own too, but nothing has ever felt more wonderful.

When they pull back, Eduardo’s smile is blinding, and Mark wouldn’t have it any other way. They laugh a little through their happy tears, and Mark takes Eduardo’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

They fall asleep like that, tangled up together. Mark holds Eduardo fiercely, eyes stinging with the relief of voicing things unsaid, the memory of Miami, and the euphoria of finally recovering something lost.
--