Chapter Text
1.
It’s Eduardo’s lawyers’ fault, really.
And, okay, maybe Mark shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations - but if you’re going to talk about him in the men’s restroom while Mark is in there, then it’s just logical that Mark can’t avoid listening.
What’s really unexpected is Mark’s subsequent thought process leading him to the conclusion that right now he’s on the verge of a heart attack. Not because of Facebook, or Sean and his fucking drug scandals, or the nightmares he gets about an attack that takes Facebook offline for long enough that it loses all its users. Nor even that time when Facebook was losing money and Mark drank too much Red Bull.
No. It’s because of Eduardo.
It’s an idea that absorbs his full attention for as long as anything or anyone ever does. Surely there’s something tragic about it that Mark hadn’t perceived at the time – in the right hands, it could be made into a movie that would become a classic.
Eduardo’s lawyers are talking about Eduardo and Mark. About the “breakup”. It takes Mark a few days to realize that they were referring to the day of the million-member party. But because Mark frequently gets bored and his attention depends on what’s being said and who’s saying it – frankly, the tension between Sy and Gretchen was more entertaining at the beginning – he starts thinking about it. If it was by mutual agreement, or if Mark just let Eduardo sign the papers because it was what he wanted and it was easier to do it behind Eduardo’s back than tell him to his face. Or if Eduardo had gotten there first - if he’d realized that they'd already reached that point. If that was Eduardo breaking up with him, the day he froze the account.
Mark doesn’t let himself dig any deeper than that, because it’s too weird to think about their relationship in the way that other people apparently saw it. Although that only raises more questions that keep him up at night. Questions like whether Mark was the only one who didn’t get it - whether to Eduardo it was a breakup and not just a You betrayed me, asshole, and I’m gonna destroy everything that you love starting with this computer - whether Mark was in a relationship without knowing it, whether he was the only one who didn’t know it. All of which leads him to ask, before he has time to regret asking:
“Did Eduardo and I have a relationship?”
“…Of course. You were friends.” It’s possible that Dustin had been sleeping when Mark called.
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, do you think that people thought that there was something more?”
Mark doesn’t know how much he didn’t want to have this conversation until he’s having it.
“Oh. You mean…?” Dustin doesn’t finish the question. “Oh, Mark.”
Oh Mark *what*, he thinks, and don’t give me that shit.
“Whatever.”
Mark hangs up the phone and ignores Dustin’s next three calls and, later, a couple more from Chris.
So one day Mark’s questioning the nature of this alleged relationship with Eduardo that he’d had no clue about and that he still doesn’t believe existed, and the next day he’s beginning to consider the benefits of such relationships. Which boil down to: sex. Mark thinks it’s unfair that if Eduardo thought their relationship was something more, he deprived Mark of the sexual aspect of it.
The fact is that Mark hardly pays attention during the last two days of depositions because he’s busy thinking, imagining. He remembers how much Eduardo used to touch him, in a way that was one hundred percent friendly and never led Mark to believe that he wanted to touch him in more intimate ways. A hand on his back, a squeeze to the shoulder, fingers lingering a split second on his neck…Mark realizes that he misses him, and that that’s nothing he wasn’t already doing, before. He knew that diluting Eduardo’s shares would mean the end of their friendship, but Mark knows better than anyone that it’s one thing to have an idea and another thing entirely to carry it out. Mark misses his best friend, his presence, but it’s not until now that he lets himself miss the little details.
Mark sits on the other side of a glass table while they keep arguing and raising questions about things he did years ago, and he watches. Eduardo has opted for such an annoying position, turning his back and playing the victim. Mark looks at his neck, the gap between his shirt and his hair, and he wants to lick right there. Which is new, but it doesn’t scare him. It’s just different, weird. In fact, this way he can look more closely at the muscles of Eduardo’s back. Mark imagines licking him there, tracing muscles and vertebrae with his fingertips.
Which makes him want to call Chris and ask, Can you spend a quarter of your life thinking you’re straight and then the next day discover that you like guys? And what if you don’t actually like all guys in general? What if you only like one guy? But Mark isn’t ready for that conversation and doesn’t think the day will ever come when he is ready. If it’s only Eduardo, Mark can overcome this little sexual-identity crisis with no problem.
Although he should have figured, somewhere in between all that fantasizing, that when it comes to Eduardo these things are never just little things.
Thus comes the day on which they're going to see each other for the last time in his life. They're going to sign an agreement in which Mark will give Eduardo more than he originally even asked for, and Eduardo’s name will again be listed among the co-founders of Facebook. There are a shitload of confidentiality clauses - never to speak to each other nor maintain any type of contact - until Mark starts to feel like this is about Tom Cruise or somebody instead of Eduardo Saverin.
And Mark thinks, We haven’t done *anything*, and he wants so many things that he doesn’t know where to start: he just knows that he wants. And if this is the last time they see each other? Mark could care less about all those clauses that stipulate their future non-relationship, as if what they have now wasn’t already a non-relationship. But he knows that Eduardo is stupid like that, that he’ll respect the agreement and, indeed, all of the other stuff that their lawyers came up with and that is therefore what he wants.
Mark wants the kind of breakup sex that everyone talks about. However, he’s a realist. He can’t exactly approach Eduardo and suggest the possibility of one last fuck when in fact it would be the first, and it’s not as if Mark would be at all ready for something like that anyway. The second-best option - and he’d be content with a little - is a little bit of fooling around. Especially if it means that Eduardo would let Mark touch him, because Mark's obsessed with that idea to the point of having had several dreams in which Eduardo lets him do things that Mark doesn’t even know how to do. That is, Mark knows how to, but it’s one thing knowing theory and diagrams and quite another to do it in practice.
The only catch in his plan is the part that involves convincing Eduardo. Which makes him slightly regret not having tried it when they were friends – of course he should have realized then, opened his eyes more and seen everything about Eduardo. Mark will have to be very convincing and use his nonexistent seduction skills.
They’ve already signed a mountain of papers and they’re in the hallway, shaking hands and congratulating each other on having finally reached the end, and Mark does not want to go out to eat with his lawyers to celebrate, thank you very much. Eduardo says goodbye to Gretchen at the end of the hallway; she hugs him and says something into his ear, and Eduardo nods. Then he goes into the men’s room, and Mark knows that it’s now or never.
Nobody else has noticed, so he walks quickly and pushes the door open. There are four cubicles, with a gap of about eight inches between the floor and their doors. Mark crouches down to check that nobody else is in there, then leans idly against the sink. Eduardo comes out nonchalantly – until he sees Mark. He presses his lips into a thin line and turns on one of the taps.
“I have one last question,” says Mark.
Eduardo rubs his hands and dries them with a bit of paper, tosses it into the corner trashcan. He adjusts his tie, stretches his neck a little.
“Do you also get the feeling that we’ve broken up?” Eduardo’s hands still for a second in the middle of smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of his suit jacket. “Because apparently everyone else takes it for granted that we did, which implies that we had a relationship that I didn’t even know about. And I was wondering if you knew, since you were always much better with that kind of thing than I was.”
Eduardo sighs, and Mark glances at his reflection in the mirror. Tired, older, and suddenly Mark’s never wished so hard to be able to go back, never realized how much he missed Eduardo’s easy smile and guileless look – and not because it was easier to take advantage of. Eduardo looked happy then. Mark swallows, and maybe he’s not seducing him the way he should be, but one thing that he always liked about Eduardo – and that Eduardo always appreciated about him – was that Mark was always honest.
“Did you ever want to be something more?” he asks. Say yes, please.
Eduardo turns toward him, a little – not completely – and his voice sounds mature and controlled.
“I’m going to say to this to you once and only once, because you shouldn’t be here, Mark.” It’s horrible how impersonal it sounds when he says his name. “Forget me.”
Mark has it on the tip of his tongue: he can’t and he doesn’t want to. He’s never going to want to and he’s never going to be able to. And even if he did want to, he knows he can’t, so he’s not going to bother trying. But that’s all very sentimental and Mark didn’t plan this meeting so he could talk about feelings.
“The thing is, Eduardo” – he pronounces his name deliberately – “that I have this idea, and frankly, I wish I could forget about it, but I don’t want to.”
Eduardo drops his shoulders, gives in.
“What the fuck do you want, Mark?”
It’s a direct and simple question for which Mark has a million answers and no time. He goes up on tiptoe, grabs Eduardo by the collar and kisses him. He miscalculates his aim and just gets the corner of his mouth, and Eduardo puts a palm on Mark’s chest and pushes him back.
“I think you always wanted something more,” Mark goads him, and Eduardo’s jaw tenses, “but you were too cowardly to try.”
Eduardo grabs him by the arm and forces him into one of the cubicles. Mark finds himself with his back to the wall, and Eduardo braces his hands on either side of Mark’s head, lowers his head and Mark feels Eduardo’s breath on his neck, brushing his cheek. Eduardo mutters something, low enough that despite how close he is, Mark can’t understand what he’s saying. Then he kisses him, and he does aim right and it is, for lack of a better word, perfect.
As unfair as that is.
He wants to keep his eyes closed, but it’s impossible when Eduardo’s tongue is licking into every corner of Mark’s mouth, when he bites. It’s so dirty that Mark hates all of the girls Eduardo’s kissed before. Mark clutches at his waist and presses against him; Eduardo groans when he feels Mark’s erection against his thigh, and Mark moves, searching for friction. He unbuckles his belt with clumsy hands, then the button of his fly, letting out a nervous laugh when his hand slips. Everything’s hot and humid and Eduardo presses his fingers against Mark’s neck, pulling at his hair.
The restroom door opens and someone enters one of the cubicles. Eduardo covers Mark’s mouth with one hand and unzips his pants with the other. While whoever-it-is is pissing on the other side, Eduardo finally touches him and Mark bites at his palm. Eduardo moves his fingers, caressing the head and sliding from top to bottom in a way that makes Mark jealous of Eduardo’s own cock for getting this kind of treatment any time it wants. Mark throws his head back, thumping it against the wall. He hears the water run for a moment.
As soon as they’re alone again Eduardo takes his hand away from Mark’s mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” Mark moans, desperate and so turned on it’s ridiculous. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Eduardo moves him without letting go, his chest against Mark’s back, and Mark whines. His hand speeds up its pace, the other one gripping Mark by the waist. Mark is aware that it’s him who’s making all of these noises, who’s breathing as if the air isn’t reaching his lungs, and he bites his lip so that he won’t say anything. Won’t ask for more, please.
“Is this what you want?” Eduardo’s asking, close to Mark’s ear, touching it with his lips.
Mark bites down until he tastes blood; he’s not going to answer. It’s one thing to want it, and another to admit it. Anyway, it’s already happening and Eduardo has yielded.
Eduardo laughs, but it doesn’t sound happy or satisfied, and something freezes inside of Mark.
“I get the feeling that this isn’t the first time,” Mark says. “Do this often, Eduardo?”
Eduardo twists his wrist and Mark moans, deeper, desperate. He tries to help him along, because the rhythm is slow and intense and it’s killing him, but Eduardo swats his hand away.
“Want to come?” he asks, voice maliciously sweet.
Mark feels it in the bottom of his stomach, like liquid fire and it’s saying C’mon, let’s go, fuck, do it. It’s one minute or maybe five, Eduardo licking his neck, kissing him with his mouth open.
“Then come, Mark.”
It’s pure coincidence. Mark does not have orgasms because someone tells him that he can, much less because Eduardo tells him so. He had to have felt it somehow and just took advantage of the moment. Eduardo pulls away, but Mark feels his breath on his neck, so he’s still there.
“Forget me,” he repeats.
Mark sees the mess he’s made of the perfect bathroom tiling and the stains on his sweatshirt. He realizes that the only person who’s gotten off is him.
What an asshole.