TSN: It's The End Of The World As I Know It
Title: It's The End Of The World As I Know It
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: The Social Network
Pairing, Characters: Mark (implied Eduardo/Mark if you are so inclined), Chris, Dustin
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Any characters mentioned here belong to their respective creators; the names of any real people mentioned refer to fictionalised versions of these people. No money is made and no offense intended.
Length: 1932 words
Status: Standalone, but might get continued should I feel like it.
Summary: Mark almost wouldn't even have known.
Author's Note: Not what I should have been working on. I have a WIP I was going to write more of, but then this happened. No, I don't know where this came from. Yes, I seem to be saying that a lot where TSN is concerned.
Written: April 2011
It's The End Of The World As I Know It
Mark almost wouldn't even have known.
~
There had been meetings and events and charities and whatnot Chris said he had to at least show up to, wearing 'real shoes' and clothes that came with buttons and didn't stretch, and spend an hour shaking hands and trying to look like he was smiling and not grimacing because the sheer stupidity of it all gave him a headache.
There was Dustin who seemed to think his job was to translate Mark into something the more replaceable of Facebook's programmers could understand, and who kept interrupting him and whining about Mark's genius but shoddy, seat-of-his-pants coding and said things like it's like modern art, Mark, very artsy and impressive, but you don't really know what the artist is trying to tell you with it unless he actually tells you, so, can't you just explain what you are trying to do here.
There were a hundred stupid little problems that had nothing to do with coding and anyone with half a brain could have solved, most of the decisions weren't even his to make (and if he did the result would only make Chris look disappointed, Dustin sigh, and his assistant, who at times conveniently forgot that he was her boss, glare at him), but still everyone insisted on wasting his time with them and keep him from doing any real work.
And there was that glitch that made people almost time out when they tried to rename their photo albums, which was driving Mark insane. Of course it wouldn't matter if people had the foresight to name their albums properly to begin with, and maybe saying it almost timed out was exaggerated, but it still took longer than it should, but that was how it started, with a slight delay, and if he let that pass things would pile up until they crashed. And Facebook just did not crash. (Except for when it did, and then no one got to sleep or even go home until the crisis was over, and even then Mark didn't rest until he'd figured out who was responsible - when Facebook was down heads rolled.)
So it was only after Mark had saved and refreshed and put the fix into the queue to go through with the next scheduled code push, when he resurfaced and the world didn't consist of only the lowing rectangle of his screen anymore, that he noticed the cans and bottles on his desk, the empty food containers, the post-its covered in Jen's handwriting on the frame of the screen, the small numbers in the lower right corner of it. It wasn't very common these days that he got to wire in and concentrate on something and work through until he was done, no interruptions, no nagging, to just sit there , focus on what was important, and exist in this space were everything made sense, and let the world move on without him.
Not that he was complaining, but why had he been left to code for… four days? He should figure out what he'd done so he could do it again. That thing with the app people had been four days ago, and he hadn't seen Chris or Dustin since he wired back in afterwards. He was pretty sure he had neither insulted them nor the app people though. Jen had been in, the mess on his desk was proof enough, and he did remember her prodding him and talking at him. He also remembered crashing on the couch at some point (that's what is was there for - this was his office where he worked, not a place to receive visitors who felt the need to make social calls), the blanket still laid in a drawn-out huddle on the floor where it had trailed after him when he'd gotten back up.
The room outside of his glass walls was bright enough to make his eyes water. Or maybe he was just tired. The offices were in that limbo between morning and empty and noon and crowded, but Jen was at her desk and looked up when he shuffled over and stood in front of her, scratching his head.
"Good morning, Mark! Are you done with your glitch?" She beamed at him.
How could anyone be so perky at 10 in the morning? And it wasn't his glitch. He didn't make mistakes. But he was done, and now he was also getting tired, so he just nodded at her. She knew better than to expect him to form sentences after a coding tear.
"Wonderful! You'll want to go home and get some rest then. You are clear for the rest of the day. I'm calling you a car, it'll pick you up down front right away."
He zoned out and cracked his neck while Jen picked up the phone and talked into it, but stayed put until she ended the call and turned back to him and asked, "Did you need anything else?"
"Yes." Mark's voice was rough from days of disuse. "Where are Chris and Dustin?" At this point at least Dustin was probably still in bed, but they hadn't been there, no one had dragged him away from his computer, so something was going on.
"Oh," Jen's face fell a little. "I'm sorry, they are not in. They won't be in all day actually."
Mark frowned. "You do remember you are supposed to remind me of all important dates, like birthdays, right?"
It wasn't anyone's birthday, was it? People got weird when you forgot their birthdays. If he did, they were probably ignoring him, and not in a good way. Jen better not have gotten him in trouble. "I pay you!"
That got him a very un-ladylike snort. "No, it's no one's birthday, at least not as far as I'm aware of. They just took some days off, some kind of trip. Didn't they tell you?"
"I don't know." He hadn't exactly been paying attention. But no one had asked him to come along. Well, no one had turned off his computer and made him come along.
"Well, they'll be back tomorrow, so why don't you go home, take a shower, and get some sleep, and tomorrow you can talk to them?"
"Try to sound less like my mother, will you."
So Jen smiled, and Mark glared, and then he went home and didn't think about it.
~
Whatever they'd been doing, Mark wouldn't have wanted to come anyway. Given the choice he'd stayed in the office and done exactly what he did do.
~
He'd probably had had a better time than them.
~
He'd definitely been more productive.
~
"Good morning, Dustin, Chris. You don't look recovered. And don't you have work to catch up on?"
See, Mark was polite. Okay, so he hadn't knocked, but Chris' office was as see-through as his own, they would have seen him coming if they had been paying attention to their surroundings. And neither of them were even wired in. He leveled an accusing stare at them.
"Jesus, Mark. Next time, knock, will you."
And that was… weird, again. Chris was sitting in his desk chair, now swiveled around to face Mark, but he didn't meet Mark's eyes, and he looked tense, the corners of his mouth pulled down, but his words had been flat, not angry. And Dustin. Dustin was breathing heavily, and was pale, and clenching and unclenching his hands nervously.
And they both looked guilty.
If it was important they'd have told him.
They'd tell him now.
Right?
Right.
No one was looking him in the eye.
"Go back to work. You've wasted enough time with your mystery vacation." Mark didn't sneer, because it really didn't matter, and it's not like they'd never done things without him before, even in college, it has always been Chris and Dustin and Mark and. Mark who'd tagged along sometimes. But this was childish, and stupid, and he had better things to do, which was why he was leaving now.
"Mark!"
Mark turned back around, and, yes, now Dustin was looking at him. His eyes were red. He looked like he'd been crying. He'd sounded like it too, stifled and half-choking.
" Where were you?"
Dustin opened and closed his mouth a few times, but didn't say anything, and pulled up his nose. He looked like it was obvious and Mark should have figured it out on his own already.
Mark hated when he didn't get something everything else though was obvious.
Dustin looked like he was in pain.
"Singapore." Chris put a hand on Dustin's arm and squeezed it gently, which was probably supposed to be comforting. He sounded very controlled. "We were in Singapore."
Oh.
"Look, that's fine, it's none of my business, you can, I mean, you were friends, are, and I. I don't mind, okay?" He shouldn't mind. "Just don't, uh, not, not, both at the same time, because. Work. I'll go now. Work." He must have been walking backwards, because he bumped into the closed door, and turned to fumble with the latch.
"Mark."
And, oh fuck, Dustin was crying. Mark didn't do crying.
"It's okay, Dustin, really, it's, I'm, uhm, happy for you, I-"
"No, Mark, Mark, you," and then Dustin took this huge shuddering breath and started to sob, loud and wet and he just stood there leaning against Chris' desk and sobbed.
Mark couldn't have done that, right? He would have noticed if he'd screwed up bad enough for this, wouldn't he? Chris would be glaring at him if he had, but Chris wasn't, he was looking at Mark now, rubbing Dustin's arm and looking at Mark, and he looked sad, and his eyes looked red too, and this was not good. This was not a guilt trip.
"You have to ask, Mark. We promised we wouldn't tell you unless you asked."
Mark didn't really want to know anymore. He could just go, and wire back in, and forget about this. That's what he'd do.
Chris was shaking now, and he took his hand off Dustin's arm and jumped out of his chair so fast Mark flinched back because he though Chris would lunge at him.
"Mark, damnit, ask me already! Now, while he… You'll regret it if you wait too long."
Mark didn't want to know, God, he didn't, but he had to, and now it was his voice that sounded choked, and Chris probably couldn't even hear him over Dustin's sobs.
"How's Wardo?"
Chris must have heard him though, because he just collapsed back into his chair, all the tension gone, as if there was no energy left in his body.
"Wardo's in the hospital. You should fly over. You should take the next plane. Or buy a plane. Now."
And he thought he might have gone into some kind of shock then, because he should have reacted to that, somehow, but he didn't, he stood there, with his back against Chris' door, hand on the knob, his knees locked, until Dustin came over, wormed his arms between Mark and the door, and sobbed and shook against his neck, and then Mark's legs buckled and he sank to the floor, Dustin wrapped around him, and watched Chris make phone calls, to Jen, and airlines, and other people, but Mark wasn't listening.
By the time Chris dropped down next to them Mark's fingers were twisted into the front of Dustin's shirt so tightly they should have hurt, but he only felt numb.
He almost wouldn't have known.
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: The Social Network
Pairing, Characters: Mark (implied Eduardo/Mark if you are so inclined), Chris, Dustin
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Any characters mentioned here belong to their respective creators; the names of any real people mentioned refer to fictionalised versions of these people. No money is made and no offense intended.
Length: 1932 words
Status: Standalone, but might get continued should I feel like it.
Summary: Mark almost wouldn't even have known.
Author's Note: Not what I should have been working on. I have a WIP I was going to write more of, but then this happened. No, I don't know where this came from. Yes, I seem to be saying that a lot where TSN is concerned.
Written: April 2011
It's The End Of The World As I Know It
Mark almost wouldn't even have known.
~
There had been meetings and events and charities and whatnot Chris said he had to at least show up to, wearing 'real shoes' and clothes that came with buttons and didn't stretch, and spend an hour shaking hands and trying to look like he was smiling and not grimacing because the sheer stupidity of it all gave him a headache.
There was Dustin who seemed to think his job was to translate Mark into something the more replaceable of Facebook's programmers could understand, and who kept interrupting him and whining about Mark's genius but shoddy, seat-of-his-pants coding and said things like it's like modern art, Mark, very artsy and impressive, but you don't really know what the artist is trying to tell you with it unless he actually tells you, so, can't you just explain what you are trying to do here.
There were a hundred stupid little problems that had nothing to do with coding and anyone with half a brain could have solved, most of the decisions weren't even his to make (and if he did the result would only make Chris look disappointed, Dustin sigh, and his assistant, who at times conveniently forgot that he was her boss, glare at him), but still everyone insisted on wasting his time with them and keep him from doing any real work.
And there was that glitch that made people almost time out when they tried to rename their photo albums, which was driving Mark insane. Of course it wouldn't matter if people had the foresight to name their albums properly to begin with, and maybe saying it almost timed out was exaggerated, but it still took longer than it should, but that was how it started, with a slight delay, and if he let that pass things would pile up until they crashed. And Facebook just did not crash. (Except for when it did, and then no one got to sleep or even go home until the crisis was over, and even then Mark didn't rest until he'd figured out who was responsible - when Facebook was down heads rolled.)
So it was only after Mark had saved and refreshed and put the fix into the queue to go through with the next scheduled code push, when he resurfaced and the world didn't consist of only the lowing rectangle of his screen anymore, that he noticed the cans and bottles on his desk, the empty food containers, the post-its covered in Jen's handwriting on the frame of the screen, the small numbers in the lower right corner of it. It wasn't very common these days that he got to wire in and concentrate on something and work through until he was done, no interruptions, no nagging, to just sit there , focus on what was important, and exist in this space were everything made sense, and let the world move on without him.
Not that he was complaining, but why had he been left to code for… four days? He should figure out what he'd done so he could do it again. That thing with the app people had been four days ago, and he hadn't seen Chris or Dustin since he wired back in afterwards. He was pretty sure he had neither insulted them nor the app people though. Jen had been in, the mess on his desk was proof enough, and he did remember her prodding him and talking at him. He also remembered crashing on the couch at some point (that's what is was there for - this was his office where he worked, not a place to receive visitors who felt the need to make social calls), the blanket still laid in a drawn-out huddle on the floor where it had trailed after him when he'd gotten back up.
The room outside of his glass walls was bright enough to make his eyes water. Or maybe he was just tired. The offices were in that limbo between morning and empty and noon and crowded, but Jen was at her desk and looked up when he shuffled over and stood in front of her, scratching his head.
"Good morning, Mark! Are you done with your glitch?" She beamed at him.
How could anyone be so perky at 10 in the morning? And it wasn't his glitch. He didn't make mistakes. But he was done, and now he was also getting tired, so he just nodded at her. She knew better than to expect him to form sentences after a coding tear.
"Wonderful! You'll want to go home and get some rest then. You are clear for the rest of the day. I'm calling you a car, it'll pick you up down front right away."
He zoned out and cracked his neck while Jen picked up the phone and talked into it, but stayed put until she ended the call and turned back to him and asked, "Did you need anything else?"
"Yes." Mark's voice was rough from days of disuse. "Where are Chris and Dustin?" At this point at least Dustin was probably still in bed, but they hadn't been there, no one had dragged him away from his computer, so something was going on.
"Oh," Jen's face fell a little. "I'm sorry, they are not in. They won't be in all day actually."
Mark frowned. "You do remember you are supposed to remind me of all important dates, like birthdays, right?"
It wasn't anyone's birthday, was it? People got weird when you forgot their birthdays. If he did, they were probably ignoring him, and not in a good way. Jen better not have gotten him in trouble. "I pay you!"
That got him a very un-ladylike snort. "No, it's no one's birthday, at least not as far as I'm aware of. They just took some days off, some kind of trip. Didn't they tell you?"
"I don't know." He hadn't exactly been paying attention. But no one had asked him to come along. Well, no one had turned off his computer and made him come along.
"Well, they'll be back tomorrow, so why don't you go home, take a shower, and get some sleep, and tomorrow you can talk to them?"
"Try to sound less like my mother, will you."
So Jen smiled, and Mark glared, and then he went home and didn't think about it.
~
Whatever they'd been doing, Mark wouldn't have wanted to come anyway. Given the choice he'd stayed in the office and done exactly what he did do.
~
He'd probably had had a better time than them.
~
He'd definitely been more productive.
~
"Good morning, Dustin, Chris. You don't look recovered. And don't you have work to catch up on?"
See, Mark was polite. Okay, so he hadn't knocked, but Chris' office was as see-through as his own, they would have seen him coming if they had been paying attention to their surroundings. And neither of them were even wired in. He leveled an accusing stare at them.
"Jesus, Mark. Next time, knock, will you."
And that was… weird, again. Chris was sitting in his desk chair, now swiveled around to face Mark, but he didn't meet Mark's eyes, and he looked tense, the corners of his mouth pulled down, but his words had been flat, not angry. And Dustin. Dustin was breathing heavily, and was pale, and clenching and unclenching his hands nervously.
And they both looked guilty.
If it was important they'd have told him.
They'd tell him now.
Right?
Right.
No one was looking him in the eye.
"Go back to work. You've wasted enough time with your mystery vacation." Mark didn't sneer, because it really didn't matter, and it's not like they'd never done things without him before, even in college, it has always been Chris and Dustin and Mark and. Mark who'd tagged along sometimes. But this was childish, and stupid, and he had better things to do, which was why he was leaving now.
"Mark!"
Mark turned back around, and, yes, now Dustin was looking at him. His eyes were red. He looked like he'd been crying. He'd sounded like it too, stifled and half-choking.
" Where were you?"
Dustin opened and closed his mouth a few times, but didn't say anything, and pulled up his nose. He looked like it was obvious and Mark should have figured it out on his own already.
Mark hated when he didn't get something everything else though was obvious.
Dustin looked like he was in pain.
"Singapore." Chris put a hand on Dustin's arm and squeezed it gently, which was probably supposed to be comforting. He sounded very controlled. "We were in Singapore."
Oh.
"Look, that's fine, it's none of my business, you can, I mean, you were friends, are, and I. I don't mind, okay?" He shouldn't mind. "Just don't, uh, not, not, both at the same time, because. Work. I'll go now. Work." He must have been walking backwards, because he bumped into the closed door, and turned to fumble with the latch.
"Mark."
And, oh fuck, Dustin was crying. Mark didn't do crying.
"It's okay, Dustin, really, it's, I'm, uhm, happy for you, I-"
"No, Mark, Mark, you," and then Dustin took this huge shuddering breath and started to sob, loud and wet and he just stood there leaning against Chris' desk and sobbed.
Mark couldn't have done that, right? He would have noticed if he'd screwed up bad enough for this, wouldn't he? Chris would be glaring at him if he had, but Chris wasn't, he was looking at Mark now, rubbing Dustin's arm and looking at Mark, and he looked sad, and his eyes looked red too, and this was not good. This was not a guilt trip.
"You have to ask, Mark. We promised we wouldn't tell you unless you asked."
Mark didn't really want to know anymore. He could just go, and wire back in, and forget about this. That's what he'd do.
Chris was shaking now, and he took his hand off Dustin's arm and jumped out of his chair so fast Mark flinched back because he though Chris would lunge at him.
"Mark, damnit, ask me already! Now, while he… You'll regret it if you wait too long."
Mark didn't want to know, God, he didn't, but he had to, and now it was his voice that sounded choked, and Chris probably couldn't even hear him over Dustin's sobs.
"How's Wardo?"
Chris must have heard him though, because he just collapsed back into his chair, all the tension gone, as if there was no energy left in his body.
"Wardo's in the hospital. You should fly over. You should take the next plane. Or buy a plane. Now."
And he thought he might have gone into some kind of shock then, because he should have reacted to that, somehow, but he didn't, he stood there, with his back against Chris' door, hand on the knob, his knees locked, until Dustin came over, wormed his arms between Mark and the door, and sobbed and shook against his neck, and then Mark's legs buckled and he sank to the floor, Dustin wrapped around him, and watched Chris make phone calls, to Jen, and airlines, and other people, but Mark wasn't listening.
By the time Chris dropped down next to them Mark's fingers were twisted into the front of Dustin's shirt so tightly they should have hurt, but he only felt numb.
He almost wouldn't have known.