the violets explode inside me (when I meet your eyes)
Title: the violets explode inside me (when I meet your eyes) (part 1)
Fandom: TSN
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo
Warnings: Teen angst and feels
Word Count: ~11k
Summary: High School AU with a Brazilian royalty twist
Author note: HUGE thanks to my wonderful beta Aly (serenatechair/wardo-wedidit) who had my back the entire way through this and was wonderful (also read all her fic - she is a genius). Sorry it is a bit short - ridiculous amount of work due in this summer and last year of school really didn't allow for much time. I tried my best! I hope to continue this as some kind of series at some point this year so keep checking back (or let me know in the comments) how you feel this could go/if you enjoyed it! Check out the art for this fic as well because it is AMAZING and totally unexpected that anyone would actually create something for a total burst of energy like this fic, especially as it's so beautiful. FINALLY, huge love to my BFF and eternal Peisistratus - Chen - who didn't know about TSN fanfic till about a fortnight ago and I succeeded in drawing her in! (cue evil cackle). Comments would be lovely :D
Mark would have been able to stop the large bag from falling from his hands had a red haired boy in front of him not turned around to grin at him, full force. The small suitcase crashed to the floor in the slim space between the seats. Trains weren’t perfect locations for practicing clumsiness, but it was the only way he could get from Dobbs Ferry to Deerfield Academy. His grandfather had died recently so his parents had suddenly been able to pay for him to upgrade his education to one of the very best boarding schools in the country. Nestled in Massachusetts, it had 19 AP courses and a strong computer science class which, honestly, was the only reason he picked this college over the hundreds of others as he glanced over the brochures.
Deerfield Academy wasn’t exactly local, so his parents weren’t as excited as Mark was once his selection was made, but Mark’s mind was made up. If he wanted a shot at standing out against the other Harvard applicants next year, he needed the edge. And, with a staggering GPA, how could Deerfield say no?
“Oh god, I’m so sorry! That was my fault!” the boy shouted as he bent to pick up the suitcase and pushed it at Mark, who just blinked at him.
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged before looking down at his ticket and taking his seat. He put the suitcase under the table in the middle of a 4-seater and prepared himself for the two hour journey - the last leg before he finally arrived.
The redhead sat down opposite him and Mark felt a sudden dread fall over him. He hadn’t been Mr. Popular at his last school and he didn’t expect that to change much, even if this was a more elite category of education.
“Deerfield?” the boy asked, leaning obnoxiously forward into Mark’s face. Mark unzipped the backpack he had placed in the empty seat beside him and slid out his laptop - top of the line, thanks to his dad for noticing the keys on his old one falling off more each day.
“Yeah,” Mark shrugged again and relaxed slightly at the sound of his laptop starting up.
“Awesome! Senior?” Noticing Mark’s slight nod he continued, “Me too! Finally, ey? Feels like I’ve been waiting for this day all my life. I haven’t seen you around before - newbie?”
Mark understood that questions were often required for one to get to know someone, but he could tell from the light in the boy’s eyes and the way he was slightly bouncing in his seat that he was genuinely interested in finding out about Mark.
“From New Jersey. Dobbs Ferry. Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Interesting and yes. I’m Dustin, by the way.” The boy held out his hand as if to shake - wow, this must be a posh school, Mark thought - but Mark was already preoccupied with coding to shake the boy’s hand.
“Mark,” he answered. Even if he wasn’t the most social person in the world he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Dustin. What if he had connections at the school and could screw him up in some way? Mark didn’t want to get involved in that shit in his last year of school.
“Computer science geek then? Snap!” Dustin called before being shushed by blonde boy seated nearby whose head was stuck in a hefty looking textbook.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Dustin said when Mark raised his head, “That’s just Chris, he’s the political humanities guy,” Dustin rolled his eyes and the corners of Mark’s mouth twitched.
“I wasn’t worried,” Mark replied before returning to his code for half an hour, getting sucked back into a stray line.
--
Dustin had his laptop out also, but Mark could tell he wasn’t coding and was, presumably, playing a game-judging by the force Dustin was pressing the keys. Also from the way Dustin kept murmuring, “Die, peons, die!” excitedly at the screen.
“So do you think there will be many new people this year?” Mark asked. He didn’t want to be labelled on his first day but he knew it was likely. How many kids moved for their senior year? For Mark it really didn’t matter that he was leaving, but he could understand that most well adjusted teenagers were fairly well settled wherever they were.
“Dude, you haven’t heard?” Dustin asked, incredulity in his eyes.
“Heard what?” Mark asked. What, did they have some weird tradition where only one person is picked to join the school?
“Prince Eduardo! The Brazilian prince!” Mark looked at him blankly. Dustin turned across the aisle to Chris for assistance.
“Eduardo Saverin,” Chris began, “Crown prince of Brazil. Soon to be gracing us with his attendance at Deerfield - noted for its high level of security.” Chris finished.
Mark nodded but didn’t understand why this was so important. He was sure there would be famous or important people’s children at the school considering the fees and prestige it held.
Dustin looked at him with wide eyes as if waiting for Mark to react in some way, so Mark widened his eyes in retaliation.
“And?” Mark asked, making circular motions with his hand.
“And, we’re going to get in the papers, dude!”
Mark looked confused and glanced at Chris for clarification.
“He’s smoking hot and the gossip rags follow him everywhere.” Chris closed his book and fully turned to face Dustin and Mark.
Mark nodded but still failed to see how that affected him, but understood that Dustin must be excited by the prospect of being in the news.
“So you’re excited because…” Mark prompted.
“Because I’m going to be his best friend, and he’ll introduce me to all the beautiful princesses and consorts of Brazil, and it’ll be a wonderful and mutual benefitting friendship.”
“I don’t see how that is mutually benefitting,” Chris sniggered.
Dustin made an outraged noise, “My friendship is worthy of any crown prince!”
“All of the beautiful princesses will be enamoured by this ‘smoking’ prince, so I fail to understand how you will profit from this arrangement.” Chris moved to high five him and Mark responded, smiling. Dustin’s outraged noise grew louder.
“You don’t understand the allure I have, Mark. I am like a fisherman standing in fish infested waters with an unlimited supply of worms. I will never fail to make a catch, especially once I become biffles with the prince!” Dustin announced to the carriage.
“I was about to say, you really have been in sparse waters for the past three years, what with you not even having one girlfriend.” Chris commented, “Even I’ve had one girlfriend.”
Dustin squawked and the argument continued to flow, right up until they reached the station. Mark couldn’t believe how little coding he had done on the journey. He’d spent over an hour telling Dustin and Chris about his last school and about the classes he was hoping to take. Chris was taking Classics too, so Mark was able to discuss their curriculum for the year which made him feel more excited.
Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as his previous experiences of being in high school.
--
Dustin had his fingers crossed the whole bus journey from the train and the subsequent walk from the entrance to the gigantic hall that Dustin called the canteen.
“If I don’t get roomed with Prince Eduardo I am not going to be responsible for my actions,” Dustin whined. Chris laughed at his friends and shook his head fondly.
Mark took a moment to stand in silent awe of the school - it was a gigantic step up from the crumbling concrete of his old school in New Jersey. There were wooden panels surrounding the room as both girls and boys lined up to find out who they were with this year. Large stained glass windows, that would have looked more in place in the school chapel than the canteen, lined the top half of the walls, allowing sunlight to shine through onto the floors in colourful patterns.
“Okay... so, Chris Hughes?” The teacher at the desk looked up at Chris before handing him his school details for the year. “Handily, you are standing next to your roommate for this year, Mr. Hughes.”
Dustin piped up, still excited for the chance to room with Eduardo, “Mark?”
The teacher looked confusedly at Dustin before turning back to Chris, “I’m sorry you have to be lumped with him for another year. Dustin, here’s your paperwork. I hope you’ve been working on the skills set I emailed you for over the summer!”
Dustin and Chris moved aside to allow Mark to get his paperwork. Now he wasn’t so sure about who he was going to room with. He hoped it wasn’t someone who expected to be best friends. He didn’t need best friends. But he’d made friends with Dustin and Chris quickly and - when he looked over to see Dustin shoving Chris and trying to get his attention and Chris obviously not playing with Dustin - he decided to put himself out a little more than usual.
“Cross fingers you don’t get a Winklevoss, ey Mark?” Dustin nudged him with his elbow. Mark watched as the teacher searched through the list of names on the long sheet of paper for the ‘Z’s.
“Who or what is a Winklevoss?” Mark asked.
“The Winklevoss twins are like king jocks and douche- dudes,” Dustin stole a glance at the teacher who seemingly hadn’t noticed, “They think they run this school with their blond hair and endless riches, but soon my biffle Eduardo will show them who’s boss!” Chris laughed when Dustin finished.
“Ah, Mr Zuckerberg! I see you’ll be joining Dustin and me for Computer Science on Monday. Enjoy sharing a room with - ah! - Mr. Eduardo Saverin. Who has yet to sign in, so just follow Chris and Dustin to Kirkwood and they’ll show you to your room. I’m Mr Thiel, any questions you call your housemaster.” With that Mark walked out of the line and over to Chris and Dustin who both held gaping mouth expressions.
“Oh. My. God.” Dustin shouted.
“Okay, this is big news, but my claustrophobia is getting unbearable in this crowd. Can we head to Kirkwood so we can discuss this properly?” Chris grabbed onto Dustin and dragged him out of the room, while Mark followed dumbly.
--
“So this is Kirkwood,” Chris announced as he placed his key card against the entrance of the building. He heard the click of a lock and pushed his way through. Dustin was still bouncing excitedly.
“Do you know what this means, Mark? You will be able to introduce me to the prince and then plan Dustin-goes-to-Brazil is in action!” he pumped his fist in the air and Mark chose to ignore him for a moment.
They all lugged their suitcases up the stairs and Chris found his room, where Dustin barrelled past him and jumped on the window-side bed.
“Shotgun!” He shouted from his horizontal position on the bed.
“Thanks for asking, asshole,” Chris said without any heat before pulling his case beside his bed.
Mark loitered by the door. Should he attempt to find his room alone - if these two were happy to just unpack and he’d see them around or something? Mark wasn’t particularly excited about being in a room with a crown prince who - no doubt - was going to be incredibly posh and feel entitled to look down on “nouveau riche” Mark.
It wasn’t a brilliant turn of events.
He moved to try and find his room when Chris moved to stand next to him and frowned at Dustin who was now spread out like a starfish on the single bed.
“Dustin, don’t you want to be in Mark’s room when Eduardo arrives?” he said, in a tone Mark would usually apply to a young child, but it appeared to work so Mark didn’t voice his thoughts.
“Yes, Chris, good idea! Then we can be all nonchalant when he arrives and we’ll be all - oh! You’re a prince, how charming - and then it’ll be wonderful,” Dustin finished with a happy sigh as they walked through the halls.
Chris turned to his left once they’d been walking for a minute or two and instructed Mark how to use his key card in order to get into his room.
“They’ve put extra security on your door I see,” Chris winked and Mark felt uncomfortable. Would sharing a room with the prince change that much of his life? He’d never even heard of Prince Eduardo before Dustin mentioned him. He wasn’t in the habit of staying up to date with obscure royalty.
--
Once Mark settled into the room - which mainly meant putting red bull he’d sneaked into his luggage after his mother’s checks into the mini fridge in the corner of the room and putting his laptop on the wooden desk - he sat on the spinning chair and looked at Chris, who was sitting with his back resting against Mark’s bed and Dustin who was lounging on top of it.
“I think they gave you better pillows as well, due to imminent royalty!” Dustin said as he pulled the pillow out from under his head and smacked Chris in the face.
“They really haven’t, Dustin,” Chris replied. “Mark, are you going to unpack your clothes?”
Mark was about to reply that he was planning on just living out of his suitcase for the rest of the year, before a soft thump against the door caused Dustin to flail into a more vertical position and for Chris to get to his feet - looking a little anxious if Mark had to guess, but he’s gauged emotions incorrectly in the past.
He turned back to his computer and kept coding, until he heard a lightly accented voice greet Chris at the door.
“Erm, hello, I’m Eduardo. You’re Mark?” Eduardo pointed at Chris who shook his head vigorously and was obviously having a hard time speaking.
“Hi, Eduardo.” Dustin called from the bed, feet now safely planted on the floor, “I’m Dustin Mozkoviz and this is Chris Hughes, who suffers from periods of becoming mute. It’s not contagious, don’t worry. That curly haired CS nerd hiding in the corner is your roommate, Mark.”
Mark spun around on his chair to face Eduardo who was standing by the door, coat half off and dressed entirely in black as if he’d been dragged from an important meeting. Pretentious - check, Mark thought.
He realised after a moment of taking Eduardo in that he’d been staring intently at a stranger he’d have to share a room with for the next year or so. He looked Eduardo in the eyes. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he looked straight back at Mark and nodded as if they had made some silent agreement.
Dustin began chattering away as Eduardo unpacked his - assumedly designer - suitcase and hung up at least three suits in the wardrobe.
“Do you only dress in formal wear or has this school got some odd uniform rule I haven’t been made aware of?” Mark asked once Eduardo finished folding all of his perfectly pressed shirts into the drawer.
Eduardo looked alarmed before laughing, throwing his head back to expose the long line of his neck. Mark’s neck felt hot for some reason and he made a note to take some pills later - he didn’t want to get sick just as the term started.
“No, no. I just like wearing suits. I mean, occupational hazard I suppose?” Eduardo smiled at him before picking up what Mark could tell were Economics and Statistics textbooks.
“Ooh, Economics?” Dustin asked excitedly, which Mark had now discovered was Dustin’s constant state.
The three boys - Chris, Dustin and Eduardo all discussed their classes and filled Eduardo in on basically the same stuff they had told Mark on the train journey to the school.
Mark sat contentedly typing on his computer, headphones pumping out whatever music was on shuffle. Eduardo seemed nice enough, even if he did have ridiculous hair and wore suits casually.
He had laughed when one of Mark’s comments had come out more harshly than intended - as they often did - and the fact that he was a crown prince of one of the largest countries in the world had not come up in conversation yet from what Mark could tell, and that was fine by him.
--
“So what are you working on?” Eduardo asked sleepily as he leant against Mark’s desk, rubbing his eyes. He’d already changed into his pyjamas and Mark could see the ripples of almost-there muscles under his white shirt.
“Just some code for my media player,” Mark shrugged. He was surprisingly tired after his first day at Deerfield. All the new pupils had to go for some pseudo-initiation/bonding in what looked like a gym. Mark, gap hoodie and scrappy trainers hadn’t really fitted in with most of the Ralph Lauren preppy crew, but Eduardo had stood by him as they went through the ridiculous “bonding” games the teachers instructed them to do.
“Farm animals,” Mark had muttered and Eduardo had laughed causing Mark to get that warm feeling around his neck again - like a hot flush. Eduardo had placed his hand on the small of Mark’s back as he steered them from the gym back to their room. Mark had no idea how Chris and Dustin had filled the day, but he was sure they’d tell him at breakfast the next day.
Eduardo made an interested noise in the base of his throat and put his hand on Mark shoulder so he could turn to see the screen. Mark tried to explain what he was writing and about how sometimes, if he was lucky, he could almost feel the lines of his code fitting together perfectly beneath his fingertips.
Eduardo was soon trying to stifle a yawn and called it quits on remaining awake any longer.
“Sleep, Mark, tomorrow’s going to be a long day of classes,” Eduardo said as he got into bed.
Mark snorted and continued typing well into the night. Eduardo never woke and told him to shut up so Mark counted that as a win.
--
Mark woke the next day to the sound of Eduardo’s alarm blasting in his ear. Apparently it wasn’t affecting Eduardo as it was with Mark who had managed to catch about four hours of sleep - finally feeling happy with his programming.
He threw a pillow at Eduardo in an attempt to wake him but he didn’t even stir. Great, a deep sleeper, Mark thought, and silently prepared himself to months more of having to wake up at - he glanced at the clock - 6am. Why the fuck did Eduardo need to get up so early?
“Oi, Wardo, get up and turn your stupid fucking alarm clock off. It’s too fucking complicated for me.” Mark fumbled with the device and was about to bash it against the side table if it didn’t stop beeping before a tanned hand covered his and switched the thing off.
“Why the hell are you setting an alarm for six in the morning?” Mark asked as he settled back on his bed, facing Eduardo.
“I - I always go for a run in the mornings.” Eduardo said.
“But your alarm doesn’t wake you?” Mark asked as he scuffed his foot against the thick carpet. He was trying to avoid looking at the long expanse of skin Eduardo was showing as his vest had rolled up in the night.
“It does usually!” Eduardo argued sleepily, as if he was still trying to work out what was going on. “The journey home and induction day must have really tired me out.” Mark rolled his eyes but turned away as Eduardo struggled out of bed and quickly changed into his jogging clothes.
“I’ll-er, wake you when I get back so you get up in time for class.” Eduardo laughed before smiling softly at Mark.
A knock at the door stopped Eduardo from staring at Mark who had rolled back into the warmth of his duvet.
“Sir, are you ready?” A low voice called through the door - accent similar to Eduardo’s.
“Really?” Mark looked at Eduardo, “Bodyguards?” He looked incredulously at Eduardo.
Eduardo looked uncomfortable for a moment before standing a little stiffer, his posture clearly showing years of training. Training like Mark had garnered from his several years of fencing.
“My father insisted. Part of the deal, really.”
“Deal?” Mark asked, already feeling tiredness crawl over him as he turned on his side to face Eduardo at the door.
“Sir?” The man called again.
“Later, Mark. I’ll see you in an hour.” Mark snuffled a reply and he heard a short click of the lock before closing his eyes.
--
“Have you discovered any state secrets yet?” Dustin asked as they settled down at the breakfast table, Eduardo perfectly coiffed and the other boys all looking like they had just dragged themselves out of bed (which was largely accurate).
“No,” Mark replied, although he was sure he’d find out some interesting things about Brazil over the year.
“That’s disappointing.” Dustin pouted and wrote, shakily, on Mark’s hand ‘Must try harder’.
“Eduardo jogs at 6am every morning though which was an interesting discovery.” Mark said bitterly glancing at Eduardo who suddenly looked incredibly guilty.
“Mark, if that’s going to be an issue…” Eduardo started before Mark butted in.
“Oh shut up, Wardo. It’s fine.” He bent his head to start picking at the toast Eduardo had dutifully put on his tray as they passed through the cafeteria.
“Wardo?” Eduardo asked, a light pink colour crossing his cheeks. He smiled softly at Mark.
“Yeah, Mark, don’t make nicknames-it probably means something offensive in Spanish.”
“They speak Portuguese in Brazil, you utter moron.” Chris hit Dustin around the head with the newspaper he brought to the table with him.
Eduardo opened his mouth as if he was going to protest but then shut it again, he laughed with Mark at Dustin’s stupid noises of protest and declarations of abuse.
“Wardo’s fine - great, even.” Eduardo nudged Mark with his elbow and grinned at him while Dustin and Chris were preoccupied with some stupid argument picked up from the previous night.
--
By the time Mark had found his way back to Kirkwood again after his last class - it’s a big school, okay - it was dark outside and he’d missed dinner. Eduardo was gone by the time he returned to his room. Mark was slightly relieved to tell the truth - he spent the whole day surrounded by other people. He wanted an evening to himself.
Mark knew Eduardo had friends at the school who had moved with him from their previous school in Brazil. “Brazilian aristocracy!” Dustin had cheered when the pack of large, tanned boys engulfed Eduardo in a huge group hug once they’d had breakfast. Mark hadn’t seen Eduardo since the morning so he assumed Eduardo wouldn’t be hanging out with him and Chris and Dustin if he already had a friend group.
Mark didn’t mind much. He enjoyed the company of Chris and Dustin to a degree and he didn’t mind just sharing a room with a guy who wasn’t going to be his best mate. Dustin would be disappointed though, Mark thought.
He was the one who wanted to be the crowned prince’s BFFL after all.
--
“Mark, this is Lucas and that’s Sean and Carlos and …” Eduardo listed all the names of the group he was huddled with. They were all standing, with various levels of awkwardness, in a computer lab waiting for Mark to come to dinner.
Mark nodded and tried to look uninterested but Wardo was looking at him with such intent in his eyes Mark couldn’t look away.
“So are you coming to dinner now?” Eduardo asked lightly. He sat down on the chair next to Mark and Lucas rolled his eyes. Mark frowned slightly.
“I was planning on eating with Dustin and Chris.” Mark said.
Wardo smiled, “They can eat with us too, Mark, I just want to make sure you actually eat.” Mark smiled slightly and grudgingly got to his feet. Eduardo made sure to hold him back behind his friends and softly bumped their hands together so their fingers lined up. I could hold his hand, Mark thought in a brief, wistful moment before smiling at the ground and catching Eduardo doing the same thing in the corner of his eye.
--
“So I hear you’re a favourite of the press.” Mark begun as he watched Eduardo get ready for a night out. Eduardo straightened his collar and looked at Mark.
“Something like that,” Eduardo said a little heavier than Mark expected, “My father likes that the press follow me around, you know, likes the US press to know I’m popular and getting with loads of girls. Silly stuff like that.” He laughed without any humour and folded his hands together.
“If you don’t like it, why do you go out?” Mark asked, confused. He was sitting on his bed in sweatpants and a sleep-worn shirt because he wanted to be. He could never understand why people always confined themselves to societal pressures.
“I have to live up to people’s expectations of me, Mark. It’s not that easy.” Eduardo shrugged on his suit jacket and opened the door, “Get some sleep, okay?”
Mark paused, Eduardo was always looking out for him but no one ever looked out for what Eduardo wanted, “Don’t get too drunk tonight,” Mark said, but the door was already shut and Wardo was gone.
--
The next few weeks went along as Mark expected apart from one large deviation. Eduardo seemed to want to be best friends with him even after Mark’s immediate hostile reaction. Or at least, what Mark approximated to being best friends.
The Brazilian Aristocracy and other jocks that seemed to cling onto them didn’t seem to particularly like Mark much and grunted comments under their breath whenever he was around, but Mark didn’t feel threatened by the hulking masses that Eduardo chose to spend his time with. Eduardo usually dragged Mark around with him - and this included having to suffer with Wardo’s pals who always seemed to hang around with him.
However, this did not mean that Mark suddenly became a social creature. Eduardo went out all the time - boarding school, my ass, Mark thought - with his friends to the local club in the nearest city. He always came home after Mark was passed out on his bed so Mark never actually understood what was going on.
Evenings Wardo didn’t spent out “partying” with his friends or out networking for his father or shaking hands with local political figures, he spent with Mark. Mark spent most of his day in classes with Dustin and Chris, and once dinner was eaten in the canteen he found refuge in the room he shared with Wardo.
Wardo owned a ridiculous amount of meteorology books and demanded to explain in minute detail the reasons why hurricanes were so important; Mark found that he couldn’t argue with his logic and couldn’t look away from Wardo’s eyes when they were lit up with passion.
Then, of course, it was the budding realisation of Mark’s tiny crush on Eduardo was getting a little bit out of hand. Mark hadn’t understood just what it meant to have a crush on someone who was fast becoming his best friend.
He sometimes had to stop himself in the mornings, room soft in residual dawn light, from reaching over the handful of feet between them. He was more than a little in awe of Wardo’s face slack in sleep and the way his bare shoulders only slightly covered with his sheet allowed Mark full sight of his tanned and smooth skin.
Once Eduardo walked out of the shower, towel slung low around his waist, rivulets of water running down his torso, and Mark had to hide out in Chris and Dustin’s room until first bell called.
It was fast becoming an issue.
--
The level of protection that Eduardo needed was also becoming problematic. Mark and Wardo shared most classes (apart from when Mark took CS 1 and Eduardo took AP Economics) and his bodyguard was always there. Always.
He woke Mark up every morning (the alarm had been cancelled following Mark and Eduardo’s alarm war by changing it to different songs. Wardo broke when Mark changed it to “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” from The Lion King and tackled Mark to the ground before Mark was even conscious.
“You fucking bastard.” Eduardo laughed as he pinned Mark’s hands above his body.
“What?” Mark feigned ignorance, “I thought it was topical, Wardo.”).
Eduardo was fast becoming the centre of Mark’s world and that worried him. Eduardo had all the pressure of being a prince that Mark couldn’t even understand. Meetings with the press were restricted thanks to a deal his father had made before Eduardo started at school, but he was still hounded when he left school.
But that didn’t seem to stop him.
Wardo didn’t even seem to enjoy going out all the time but his friends seemed to insist it would be good for his image. Mark didn’t really understand that, but apparently Wardo was a press favourite and magazines constantly wanted to hear about the girls he was hooking up with or where he was every night.
Thank god he didn’t have a Twitter account.
--
Mark lifted his head from his bed when he heard loud, foreign-sounding cheering emanating from the corridor outside his room, and a slumping noise - as if someone had fallen heavily against the door. He returned to his typing assuming that it was just one of his neighbours clambering around on a Friday night.
Suddenly the door opened following the beep of a security card and Mark blinked at the intrusion as he heard the voice of Lucas, one of Eduardo’s crew, charge into the room, obviously drunk. Mark closed his laptop and stared as two other members of the group - whose names Mark hadn’t quite been bothered to learn year - lifted Eduardo through the door.
“What the hell did you do to him?!” Mark asked as he hurried over to where Eduardo was slouched against a friend’s shoulder.
A huge arm blocked his way; Lucas’ angry face met his. Mark was suddenly reminded of his mother’s advice to never anger a drunk man who was clearly stronger than you.
“Clearly stronger” was a huge understatement when it came to Lucas.
“What do you mean by that, little boy?” Lucas’ face closed in on his and his accent sounded incredibly intimidating, but Mark stood still and glowered back at him.
Eduardo’s friends, who were obviously drunk themselves, dumped him on the bed swaying on the edge of it.
“Night, Mark,” said one of the kindest of the group - Mark distantly thought he heard Wardo call him Carlos once, but he wasn’t sure. He nodded sharply at them and Lucas stepped back, saluting at Mark and leaving the room. Eduardo had done that to him once. He wondered if it was a Brazilian thing.
The moment the door clicked shut he dropped to his knees in front of Eduardo who was sleepily blinking down at Mark.
“Mark!” Eduardo said as if Mark was the best person he had ever seen in his entire life, as if he was the last gasp of air before he plunged underwater.
“Wardo, what did they give you?” Mark asked urgently before Wardo lost consciousness.
“Nothing, I just went to the club and it was amazing, Mark, seriously. There was this - hic - girl and she was so into me. She spent the whole night on my lap, Mark.” He grinned and laughed to himself throwing his head back. Mark grimaced internally and hoped it didn’t show.
“She would have come back with me but I - er - I thought it would be rude. You know. With you being here and all.” Eduardo finished with a smile, as if he had done Mark a favour.
“How incredibly gracious of you, Wardo.” Mark said in a low tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Do you need help getting into bed?”
Eduardo stood up petulantly and said, louder than necessary, “No, Mark, I’ll be fine. I didn’t even have that much.” He stumbled into the bathroom leaving Mark leaning against his bed chuckling slightly.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning. Wonder whether you’ll make it in time for your morning jog.”
Eduardo returned into the room smelling less like cocktails and faintly of female perfume. Mark’s stomach tightened painfully.
"You need to drink some water, Eduardo," Mark said, loudly and clearly, from him position on the floor. "And swallow these." He found a packet of Tylenol his mother had stuffed in his suitcase and popped a couple of tablets out.
Eduardo knocked back the pills without even looking at them, and obediently gulped down the water Mark handed him from his bedside table. Mark knew he should have been pleased that Eduardo wasn't giving him any backchat, but instead he found himself unexpectedly horrified.
"Did you even check what I just gave you?" he demanded. "You can't just go swallowing anything! I could have given you GHB, or E, or anything, and you just took it!"
Eduardo frowned, and then gave an inelegant snort of laughter. "Stop being ridiculous, Mark. You wouldn't hurt me," he said.
Mark swallowed and tried to will himself not to blush. "That's not the point," he said, feeling frustrated. "You should take better care of yourself, you idiot."
“That’s what Lucas and Carlos-” Ah, so it was Carlos, Mark thought, “-and all the rest are here for though. Pai doesn’t mind me getting drunk too often as long as I…” Eduardo trailed off there, dodging Mark’s eyes, and sunk into his bed.
“I suppose you were out with that friend of yours from CS tonight, then?” Wardo’s accent became more pronounced as he fumbled under his covers. Mark slid back into his bed and pulled his laptop back on his knees.
“Who? What? No, I was just here actually. What does it matter to you anyway?” Mark jutted his chin and faced the Wardo shaped mound, body turned away from him.
“Nothing. Just wondering.” Wardo sounded almost coherent.
“Look, you’re not my mom or my boyfriend or anything, so you can’t ask about who I was with when you were out letting girls sitting on your lap.”
There was a pause for a few minutes where Mark held his breath, praying he hadn’t stepped over a line. He and Eduardo always had this tension in the room whenever something was said about what their relationship was, even if nothing had ever happened between them.
And then Eduardo said, so quietly that Mark had to strain to hear: "It would've been better with you."
"What?"
"This evening. I meant - I meant this evening," Eduardo said more loudly, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I just - I - it would've been more fun with you. There. With you there."
Mark rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “An invite would have perhaps led me to think you would want me there instead of hanging out with Lucas. But, hey, you invited Lucas, so you got Lucas.”
Eduardo was snoring by the time that it occurred to Mark to wonder whether the "it" in question had been the evening in general, or the kissing in particular.
And after that, he couldn't sleep at all.
--
“So, the dance?” Dustin asked as they were eating breakfast. Chris snorted into his cereal and looked at Dustin,
“I thought you would never ask, my love.” He pretended to swoon and Dustin pushed his head off his shoulder.
“Shut up, Chris, we all know you’re going to ask that guy from your history class. What I’m more interested in is who the prince is going to take, Marky boy?” He wriggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way at Mark who stared back at him.
Wardo was sleeping off his hangover in their room which, judging by the state of him last night, would probably last well into his Saturday morning classes.
“I wouldn’t know, Dustin. We don’t talk about that kind of stuff.” Mark replied and Dustin immediately looked immensely disappointed.
“Well, I’m going to take Stephanie!” Dustin shouted before lowering his voice as if he was about to unload the location of the Holy Grail, “From my art class.”
“We know.” Mark and Chris chanted together. Dustin had not shut up about this girl since Mark had met him, more or less. She was possibly the reason why Dustin was even taking art in the first place. The most creative thing Mark had ever seen Dustin do was Star Wars fanart.
“Hey Dustin, looks like you’ll be able to ask Eduardo yourself.” Chris dozily pointed at the entrance of the canteen. Eduardo looked like hell warmed over, but was still was the most attractive thing Mark had ever seen. He kept his face impassive to wait and see whether Eduardo would ignore him completely as a result of last night’s conversation and sit with Lucas et al, or with the ‘Kirkwood crew’ as Dustin liked to call them. Wardo put his hand up to his head in a pseudo-salute and joined them at the table. Mark bit the corner of his thumb.
Mark immediately leant over to fill one of the glasses with water for Eduardo who probably needed it. He sat down next to Mark and glanced at him softly and took small, practiced sips.
“Ward-o! My main man - partying late with the laydees last night, were we?” Eduardo blushed and gently knocked his shoe against Mark’s ankle. Mark assumed that was some bro form of apology for being odd last night.
To be honest, Mark wasn’t ever really sure what Eduardo truly meant. Surprisingly, he didn’t really mind either.
“Something like that,” Eduardo replied and Dustin howled. Carlos looked over at their table as if to question the sanity of Eduardo for even sitting with them. Mark understood that look very well.
“Nice, dude. Anyways, we were discussing the Autumn Ball and how I’m totally going to do Stephanie.”
Mark chocked on the red vine he had just started and Eduardo had to pound him on the back for a moment or two.
Chris flipped a page in his textbook and commented, “You know there are girls who eat breakfast in this vicinity and probably don’t want to hear about your unrealistic and imagined conquests.”
“There are also guys who don’t want to hear about it either,” Eduardo clarified. Dustin looked sad a second before beginning his interrogation on Eduardo.
And if Wardo’s hand still lingered on Mark's back a little longer than was strictly necessary to rub comforting circles long after he'd stopped spluttering, Mark didn't have the heart to stop him - although it made his cheeks flush, and reminded him too sharply of Eduardo's comments the night before, and made his trousers feel tight and restrictive.
“I’m not planning on taking a date. I think ol’ Pai would rather I went stag and stole other people’s dates than took someone who wasn’t appropriately briefed, etc.” He waved his free hand as if to show there was some kind of infuriatingly complicated procedure before taking a girl to a school dance.
“So you don’t have your eye on a particular lass? What about Christy? She’s always harping on about your ‘connection’?” Dustin made air quotes and leaned forward.
“She’s a nice girl, but a little intense for me. I mean, did you see what she did to Mike from gen ed? ‘Handy with a lighter’ isn’t on my list of potential girlfriends.”
“Christy’s hot though, Wardo, she’d probably know what she was doing too.” Dustin winked at Eduardo who laughed. Mark bit back several comments.
Dustin laughed and filled him in on the Stephanie Situation. Eduardo lifted his eyebrows, but didn't look up from his toast. "Good luck with that, Dustin," he said, mildly. Eduardo's hand was still on Mark's back, although his attention was on the conversation; Mark wasn't sure Eduardo was really aware that he was still rubbing, quite needlessly now; or that his movements were gradually sliding into wider circles that scraped Eduardo’s fingers over the exposed strip of skin at the nape of Mark's neck and then swooped all the way down to the upper curve of his ass, just meeting his sweatpants. The movement seemed to be absent-minded, almost involuntary. It was, however, driving Mark quietly insane. He swallowed, and reached over to pour more water into Eduardo’s glass with a shaking hand. Eduardo looked down at it, and then glanced up and met Mark's eyes, and started. He pulled his hand back as if it had been burnt, and grabbed the glass of water.
“Maybe I should look into finding a girl to take.” Eduardo smiled tightly at Dustin and Mark stuffed his hands in his pockets trying desperately to not feel hurt. He tried to swallow away the metallic, heavy feeling that grew in his throat.
“That’s the spirit, bro! I’ll set you up with someone asap! Or, you could just reconsider the beauty of a certain pyromaniac!” Dustin grinned and Mark concentrated just breathing before mumbling some kind of excuse and leaving the table.
As he walked away from the table he felt that throb of code running through his veins that needed to be let out. He pressed his dry lips together and ran to the closest computer lab to get rid of this itching feeling that he knew he would never be able to scratch.
--
Mark missed a day of classes and was eventually dragged out by the CS teacher who spotted him crashing at the keyboard, eyebrows low and hunched over. He hadn’t stopped typing for eight hours and his fingers felt sore and tingled with residual energy. His throat felt parched, but on the plus side he hadn’t thought about Eduardo for a concentrated period of time. Apparently he still was capable of that, who knew.
(He didn’t even understand why they needed to have classes on a Saturday anyway. Lessons at this school were pointless regardless, he carried a flawless GPA whether he attended the classes or not.) Since it doesn’t really follow to the next paragraph.
Assumptions were his worst trait. He didn’t know why he assumed Eduardo had suffered a similar oh shit I’m falling for you moment as Mark had but hearing his plans to date other girls. Bring them back to their room? Kiss them and let them see him at his most vulnerable moments? Mark couldn’t stand to think about it anymore. He was Wardo’s best friend, nothing more. He could deal with that.
That was, until the Autumn Ball.
--