[PART TWO] OVERFLOW POST

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THE SOCIAL NETWORK PART TWO OVERFLOW POST

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Re: Errant coment fill - I'm dying. 2/~3

[anonymous]

"You'll be fine, and we'll settle, we'll settle this, and never talk to each other again, but that's okay, I don't care, you'll go back to Facebook and forget about this, us, and I don't care, I don't care of you never talk to me again, I'll go away and hate you and I don't care, because you'll be fine, okay, Mark, you'll be fine…."

Wardo is babbling. Which he does, when he's scared, or nervous, or on edge, or trying to justify his decisions when really he's too insecure to trust in them or convince people of something he doesn't believe himself. And Mark is dying, and Wardo is saying he's not, so he's right to babble, and Mark likes to make Wardo babble, used to like it, babble and ramble, it means Mark's got the upper hand, but he doesn't, and he wants Wardo to listen, again, he needs him to listen, really listen, like only Wardo ever did, to Mark, Mark, not to Mark the programmer, or Mark the genius, or Mark the CEO of Facebook, and Wardo used to listen to Mark when no one else did. Then everybody but Wardo used to listen to Mark.

There's something in his throat and it's making him even less able to breathe. He tries to cough but sputters instead, drops of liquid out of the corner of his mouth, cooling on his face, everything cold, and he licks his lips, sweet, metallic, tasteless.

And now no one listens to Mark.

He's lying on the ground, heavy and cold and limp, with people and fussing hands and bustling activity around him, and he thinks if that were possible he'd just sink through the pavement from all that weight, sink and be cold and dead (he's dying, he's dying) and silent, not hear and not talk.

But Wardo has to. Mark needs him to.

Wardo with his warm hands (fingers splayed over Mark's skin, cupping his face, and he wonders if he coughed blood over them; he hopes not) and his dark eyes huge and scared and red-wet hurt and accusing (familiar now) and his face pale and puffy and miserable (so familiar now) and a line of snot trailing from his nose and he's the only thing warm, the only thing keeping Mark from slipping into the cold.

Because Mark never meant to. He. Not. He knew (he's not stupid), he did (he did, he, not them, he), but he didn't mean. He didn't.

Not like this.

"…I hate you, I do, and I'll go and never see you again because I decide not to and I don't care, I'll stop caring, and you'll be fine…"

He didn't mean for it to end like this.

Wardo'd hate to realize he's losing it like this in front of people, Wardo's all about appearance and dignity and composure, and control (Mark gets that) and respect (Wardo never thought Mark got that, but he did, he knew, he knows).

And there's someone pulling at Wardo, pulling him up. Dark suit, lawyer, his or Wardo's or someone else's, everybody looks the same in a suit, everybody but Wardo who makes stiff clothes look weirdly endearing, a puppy with too-large paws, and Mark never even liked dogs, and Mark is drifting without the warmth of Wardo's hands, without Wardo's anchoring presence, without Wardo, he's cold, and the ground is cold, the ground is gone, and he's slipping and falling and rising and. Moving (paramedics).

But he's still dying, and he can't breathe, and he doesn't know if the light he's seeing is that on the ceiling of the ambulance or death (science, lack of oxygen, tunnel vision) and he's still surprised, kind of, he never thought there was time to make things right (he wasn't wrong), he never thought. He thought there'd be time to think. He's dying and cold and caught between the cold and the light, falling and slipping and alone, he doesn't want to die alone.

"Wardo."

He doesn't even hear himself, maybe he doesn't have enough breath left, but he doesn't want to die alone, he doesn't want Wardo to stop caring, he doesn't want Wardo to hate him, he doesn't. Not like this.

So he thinks, Wardo, because Wardo always knew without Mark having to say something, except when he didn't anymore, except maybe he never did, and Mark doesn't want to die alone, he doesn't.

"Mark. Mark, Mark. I'm here, it's, it's okay, you'll be fine, okay, they'll take care of you, you'll be fine…"