sorry seems to be the hardest word.
Title: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Author: kissoffools/wakeyourheart
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo (friendship, mostly.)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The deposition in California doesn't exactly go according to plan. Not according to Eduardo's plan, anyway.
Disclaimer: So incredibly not mine! I'm writing about the fictionalized version of real people. There are way too many ownership issues in here for me to even begin to try and claim anything as my own.
Notes: This is the beginning of my foray into the Social Network fandom! Written for teenydino as part of my comment fic meme! Word Count: 1,334. This got... so incredibly out of hand and is so much longer than I'd expected. Oops. Viv wanted a scene based around this Andrew Garfield quote:
"I think with Mark, up until the end, [Eduardo]’s hoping at some point Mark’s going to go, ‘Look, I’m really, really sorry, man. I really messed up. I love you so much, and I just was jealous of you for this. And I acted out like this. Can we be friends again? I’ll give you back as much money as you want. Let’s move in together and we’ll play basketball every day, and we’ll cuddle at night and watch reality TV.’ Part of Eduardo in those depositions is just waiting for that."
The first time Eduardo notices something odd is about two minutes after they've all sat down.
He isn't exactly happy to be here. Of course he isn't. The last year or so has been hell, if he's putting it lightly. He hates to admit it, but even after everything, he still isn't used to being without Mark. Sometimes he'll hear a funny joke or see someone ridiculous on the subway, and his fingers will be halfway through typing Mark's name into his contact list when he remembers, no. He and Mark aren't friends anymore. They don't text, they don't email, and they sure as hell don't call each other up to laugh about their days.
Eduardo has always known that it's a challenge, being Mark's friend. He just wasn't prepared for the challenge that was not being his friend, too.
They've hardly even begun the deposition pleasantries when Mark's eyes find Eduardo's. That's it. Mark doesn't mouth anything to him, doesn't even change his fucking expression. It's just his gaze, eyes locked steady on Eduardo's, until Eduardo finally blinks and looks down at the papers in front of him. Mark's never been one to make eye contact - he's usually too busy typing code to bother with giving someone his full attention. So why the hell now, after everything?
Fuck it. The last thing Eduardo needs to do is spend his time obsessing over this one stupid detail. No, he has bigger matters on his hands right now. So he squares his shoulders, turns to his lawyer, and dives in.
***
The second odd thing happens when they break for lunch. The lawyers rise to their feet at once, gathering papers and switching to idle chatter as they file out. Probably headed for an expensive filet mignon on his dime, Eduardo thinks almost a little bitterly. He stays seated for a moment, unsure. He doesn't know anyone else in the area except for Mark, and like hell are he and Mark going to split a sandwich together down in the fucking cafeteria. This isn't college, not anymore - and even if it was, he would be hard pressed to get Mark to share his food. No, the best thing to do is to step out now, to keep his head down and mind his own business until the deposition resumes.
Mark is already tapping away on his laptop when Eduardo gets to his feet. His eyes dart back and forth over the screen, and Eduardo can't help but shake his head. Single-minded and focused, that’s Mark. He probably isn't even aware that there's anyone left in the room.
Except that when Eduardo reaches the conference room doors, Mark speaks.
"Wardo," he says, and Eduardo turns. That's it, just two measly syllables, and he can't even take his eyes off his computer screen for two fucking seconds to see if Eduardo's paid him any mind. Eduardo breathes out a sigh and shakes his head. Of course.
"You lost all right to call me that," Eduardo replies, and then pushes his way through the doors before Mark can say something to make him hurt even more.
***
Eduardo goes to get a drink when the deposition goes on break. When he straightens up from the machine, Coke in hand, he finds himself face to face with Mark.
"An ambush at the soda machine," he says, rubbing his eyes, "of course." Mark presses his lips together and shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. When he doesn't speak, Eduardo raises his eyebrows.
"What?" he asks, his tone bordering on harsh. "Did you just come here to stare at me? Am I that fascinating?"
"I don't want you to hate me anymore."
And Mark's voice is so quiet, so straightforward, that Eduardo's torn between wanting to hug him and punch him. "You really think it's that simple?" he asks in disbelief, but he already knows the answer to that one. He's Mark; of course he thinks it's that simple.
Mark shrugs. "I shouldn't have let Sean elbow you out of Facebook. I know that made you mad -"
"I don't give a fuck about Sean Parker!" Eduardo interrupts, and he can see Mark shuffle his feet a little awkwardly.
"Then what do you give a fuck about?"
"Now?" Eduardo can feel his heart rate rising and he tries to keep his anger at bay. The last thing his lawyer needs is an assault counter-suit, of all things.
"Now. Then. Whenever. Start with one and we'll work towards the other."
"So you became a fucking therapist in your spare time?" Eduardo asks. He rubs a thumb over his chin and keeps his gaze steady.
"No, of course not. I just think that it would be best to really get down to the core of what you're feeling so that we can try and sort this all out."
"I'm feeling like the pants I put on this morning are too short," Eduardo says sarcastically, and when Mark raises his eyebrows, Eduardo snorts. "I'm feeling like talking to you is completely exhausting, Mark, and I'm not sure I want to keep doing it anymore."
Mark scrubs a hand through his hair and there's something in that moment - something in his eyes, Eduardo thinks - that switches. They're both still here, they're both stuck in this fucking impossible dance that's already ended in heartbreak, but there's something now about the way Mark's looking at him. It's raw, Eduardo realizes. There's no pretension, no ego, no holier-than-thou attitude. It's finally just Mark and Eduardo, and the realization makes Eduardo blink.
"You are the only person I've ever needed in my whole life," Mark says, eyes now trained on his flip-flops, and Eduardo almost swallows his tongue in surprise.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's just that I was a kid, you know?" Mark's shoulders jerk in something that could maybe be called a shrug on someone with better motor control. "I was a fucking kid and I shouldn't have..." He trails off, shaking his head. Then his eyes snap up to meet Eduardo's and god help Eduardo if he even wanted to look elsewhere at that moment.
"I need you to be my friend again."
And that's it, really. That's all Eduardo needs - to be needed. Maybe it isn't healthy, and maybe it's going to make this whole lawsuit thing a hundred times more complicated, but Eduardo can't help himself. Not when Mark's like this, not when Mark's vulnerable and open and finally fucking honest with him.
"They, uh, probably want us back in the board room," Eduardo says, his voice coming out as a rasp.
Mark's face falls just a fraction of an inch, and even that is enough to break Eduardo's heart. Fucking Mark. "Yeah," Mark says, "probably."
Eduardo takes a step forward and lays a hand on Mark's shoulder almost before he even realizes what he's doing. The two haven't touched in ages, not since Palo Alto a lifetime ago, and Eduardo thinks it should feel strange. It should feel like this grand gesture, this giant moment, but it doesn't. His hand fits onto Mark's shoulder just as it always has. Surprise, surprise.
"Call me tonight," Eduardo says, and it isn't even that much of a request. "After we all get to go home. I can slip my number to you -"
"I've got it," Mark interrupts, and Eduardo almost wants to laugh. Of course Mark still has his number, because Mark's number has been sitting in his phone for the past two years, and isn't that how life always fucking works?
"Okay," Eduardo says, and he can't help the little smile that creeps onto his face. It grows a little bit when he sees one on Mark's, too.
"Okay."
And it isn't until Eduardo's back at his hotel, sprawled out alone on the bed and flipping past reality shows on cable, that he realizes that not once in that entire conversation did Mark ever use the words I'm sorry.
end.
Author: kissoffools/wakeyourheart
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo (friendship, mostly.)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The deposition in California doesn't exactly go according to plan. Not according to Eduardo's plan, anyway.
Disclaimer: So incredibly not mine! I'm writing about the fictionalized version of real people. There are way too many ownership issues in here for me to even begin to try and claim anything as my own.
Notes: This is the beginning of my foray into the Social Network fandom! Written for teenydino as part of my comment fic meme! Word Count: 1,334. This got... so incredibly out of hand and is so much longer than I'd expected. Oops. Viv wanted a scene based around this Andrew Garfield quote:
"I think with Mark, up until the end, [Eduardo]’s hoping at some point Mark’s going to go, ‘Look, I’m really, really sorry, man. I really messed up. I love you so much, and I just was jealous of you for this. And I acted out like this. Can we be friends again? I’ll give you back as much money as you want. Let’s move in together and we’ll play basketball every day, and we’ll cuddle at night and watch reality TV.’ Part of Eduardo in those depositions is just waiting for that."
The first time Eduardo notices something odd is about two minutes after they've all sat down.
He isn't exactly happy to be here. Of course he isn't. The last year or so has been hell, if he's putting it lightly. He hates to admit it, but even after everything, he still isn't used to being without Mark. Sometimes he'll hear a funny joke or see someone ridiculous on the subway, and his fingers will be halfway through typing Mark's name into his contact list when he remembers, no. He and Mark aren't friends anymore. They don't text, they don't email, and they sure as hell don't call each other up to laugh about their days.
Eduardo has always known that it's a challenge, being Mark's friend. He just wasn't prepared for the challenge that was not being his friend, too.
They've hardly even begun the deposition pleasantries when Mark's eyes find Eduardo's. That's it. Mark doesn't mouth anything to him, doesn't even change his fucking expression. It's just his gaze, eyes locked steady on Eduardo's, until Eduardo finally blinks and looks down at the papers in front of him. Mark's never been one to make eye contact - he's usually too busy typing code to bother with giving someone his full attention. So why the hell now, after everything?
Fuck it. The last thing Eduardo needs to do is spend his time obsessing over this one stupid detail. No, he has bigger matters on his hands right now. So he squares his shoulders, turns to his lawyer, and dives in.
***
The second odd thing happens when they break for lunch. The lawyers rise to their feet at once, gathering papers and switching to idle chatter as they file out. Probably headed for an expensive filet mignon on his dime, Eduardo thinks almost a little bitterly. He stays seated for a moment, unsure. He doesn't know anyone else in the area except for Mark, and like hell are he and Mark going to split a sandwich together down in the fucking cafeteria. This isn't college, not anymore - and even if it was, he would be hard pressed to get Mark to share his food. No, the best thing to do is to step out now, to keep his head down and mind his own business until the deposition resumes.
Mark is already tapping away on his laptop when Eduardo gets to his feet. His eyes dart back and forth over the screen, and Eduardo can't help but shake his head. Single-minded and focused, that’s Mark. He probably isn't even aware that there's anyone left in the room.
Except that when Eduardo reaches the conference room doors, Mark speaks.
"Wardo," he says, and Eduardo turns. That's it, just two measly syllables, and he can't even take his eyes off his computer screen for two fucking seconds to see if Eduardo's paid him any mind. Eduardo breathes out a sigh and shakes his head. Of course.
"You lost all right to call me that," Eduardo replies, and then pushes his way through the doors before Mark can say something to make him hurt even more.
***
Eduardo goes to get a drink when the deposition goes on break. When he straightens up from the machine, Coke in hand, he finds himself face to face with Mark.
"An ambush at the soda machine," he says, rubbing his eyes, "of course." Mark presses his lips together and shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. When he doesn't speak, Eduardo raises his eyebrows.
"What?" he asks, his tone bordering on harsh. "Did you just come here to stare at me? Am I that fascinating?"
"I don't want you to hate me anymore."
And Mark's voice is so quiet, so straightforward, that Eduardo's torn between wanting to hug him and punch him. "You really think it's that simple?" he asks in disbelief, but he already knows the answer to that one. He's Mark; of course he thinks it's that simple.
Mark shrugs. "I shouldn't have let Sean elbow you out of Facebook. I know that made you mad -"
"I don't give a fuck about Sean Parker!" Eduardo interrupts, and he can see Mark shuffle his feet a little awkwardly.
"Then what do you give a fuck about?"
"Now?" Eduardo can feel his heart rate rising and he tries to keep his anger at bay. The last thing his lawyer needs is an assault counter-suit, of all things.
"Now. Then. Whenever. Start with one and we'll work towards the other."
"So you became a fucking therapist in your spare time?" Eduardo asks. He rubs a thumb over his chin and keeps his gaze steady.
"No, of course not. I just think that it would be best to really get down to the core of what you're feeling so that we can try and sort this all out."
"I'm feeling like the pants I put on this morning are too short," Eduardo says sarcastically, and when Mark raises his eyebrows, Eduardo snorts. "I'm feeling like talking to you is completely exhausting, Mark, and I'm not sure I want to keep doing it anymore."
Mark scrubs a hand through his hair and there's something in that moment - something in his eyes, Eduardo thinks - that switches. They're both still here, they're both stuck in this fucking impossible dance that's already ended in heartbreak, but there's something now about the way Mark's looking at him. It's raw, Eduardo realizes. There's no pretension, no ego, no holier-than-thou attitude. It's finally just Mark and Eduardo, and the realization makes Eduardo blink.
"You are the only person I've ever needed in my whole life," Mark says, eyes now trained on his flip-flops, and Eduardo almost swallows his tongue in surprise.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's just that I was a kid, you know?" Mark's shoulders jerk in something that could maybe be called a shrug on someone with better motor control. "I was a fucking kid and I shouldn't have..." He trails off, shaking his head. Then his eyes snap up to meet Eduardo's and god help Eduardo if he even wanted to look elsewhere at that moment.
"I need you to be my friend again."
And that's it, really. That's all Eduardo needs - to be needed. Maybe it isn't healthy, and maybe it's going to make this whole lawsuit thing a hundred times more complicated, but Eduardo can't help himself. Not when Mark's like this, not when Mark's vulnerable and open and finally fucking honest with him.
"They, uh, probably want us back in the board room," Eduardo says, his voice coming out as a rasp.
Mark's face falls just a fraction of an inch, and even that is enough to break Eduardo's heart. Fucking Mark. "Yeah," Mark says, "probably."
Eduardo takes a step forward and lays a hand on Mark's shoulder almost before he even realizes what he's doing. The two haven't touched in ages, not since Palo Alto a lifetime ago, and Eduardo thinks it should feel strange. It should feel like this grand gesture, this giant moment, but it doesn't. His hand fits onto Mark's shoulder just as it always has. Surprise, surprise.
"Call me tonight," Eduardo says, and it isn't even that much of a request. "After we all get to go home. I can slip my number to you -"
"I've got it," Mark interrupts, and Eduardo almost wants to laugh. Of course Mark still has his number, because Mark's number has been sitting in his phone for the past two years, and isn't that how life always fucking works?
"Okay," Eduardo says, and he can't help the little smile that creeps onto his face. It grows a little bit when he sees one on Mark's, too.
"Okay."
And it isn't until Eduardo's back at his hotel, sprawled out alone on the bed and flipping past reality shows on cable, that he realizes that not once in that entire conversation did Mark ever use the words I'm sorry.
end.