fic: Threads | The Social Network | Part Two
Masterpost | Art by eiirene | Art by lovesletyoudown | Art and Fanmix by sweetmadness379
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Epilogue
Chris is proven to be painfully omniscient as always. Mark's woken early Monday by Eduardo's familiar weight on the edge of his mattress and Eduardo's hand on his shoulder.
"It leaked," Eduardo says. "Some intern in our mediator's office. Chris has already dealt with her and set up a few interviews for us."
"I have to-" Mark says blearily, struggling to wake completely.
"You're not going into the office today," Eduardo says grimly, and goes to pull slacks and a dress shirt from Mark's closet for him.
Mark gets dressed because Eduardo has a truly terrifying expression on today, and they take Eduardo's car to some nice but nondescript building about ten minutes from Facebook.
"Why does Facebook PR have offices in a building not associated with Facebook?" Mark asks when Chris meets them inside.
"Because sometimes Facebook PR has to deal with issues we don't want connected to the rest of Facebook," Chris says. "Or that we don't want the rest of Facebook wandering in on."
Mark blinks and takes the sugared coffee Eduardo shoves into his hands.
"Besides, Facebook is swarmed with photographers right now. We want to control your exposure. That means keeping you away from there for now."
"There are pictures of us online," Eduardo interrupts, sounding repulsed. "In front of our house."
Mark leans over and looks. Eduardo has googled them on his laptop, pulling up the first several news articles, which include pictures of Eduardo going to work, face set, and Mark going off a few hours later, looking no happier. The headlines proclaim various melodramatic truths about their recent relationship developments.
"It was morning," Mark says. "Of course we looked unhappy. Why do they care?"
"You're not celebrities," Chris says. "But you're rich and gay and rich. They care."
"You couldn't stop this?" Mark demands, a little sharply. That is Chris's job.
"Do you know what time I got up this morning?" Chris snaps back. "Shut up. We've done as much as we could. They had pictures of Eduardo and-"
"And?" Mark prompts, narrowing his eyes. Eduardo twists to look between him and Chris.
"-and his boyfriend," Chris continues, unflinching, as if he never stopped. "But we kept all of those out of print."
And his boyfriend.
Mark blinks while Chris keeps talking, explaining to him and Eduardo who they'll be talking to today. Two prominent gay media outlets, two left-leaning news sources, one or two independent blogs that are popular and middle of the road. One statement they'll approve for a general posting to Facebook official business associates who might worry about possible upheaval. Eduardo says several times that it's good they don't have stockholders or a board they have to worry about.
Mark can't imagine Eduardo having a boyfriend.
"Mark," Eduardo says. "Hey, Mark, come on. Please pay attention."
"I am," Mark says irritably, shaking him off. Eduardo looks resigned and turns back to Chris.
"Look, this is supposed to be as easy as possible," Chris says, before stepping off to the side, leaving Mark and Eduardo sitting alone in front of the screen where the first video conference is loading.
"Just let me do most of the talking," Eduardo says quietly. His hand drops to Mark's knee and squeezes.
"Yeah," Mark says, giving Eduardo a look. Eduardo gives him one right back before straightening and smiling professionally blankly at the camera in preparation.
He squeezes Mark's knee again before letting go, Mark yawns, and the first interviewer appears on screen.
---
Mark can't stay completely silent. It would look weird if he did, and it's a moot point anyway, since each interviewer has questions specifically for him. They also have several, most obviously the ones about Facebook, that they clearly meant for him to answer. They look surprised when Eduardo responds instead, as if a divorce would change the way they've operated their company for five years. But that's part of what they're here to prove, that it won't, so Mark continues to sit back and ignore the questions, but he feels more smug about it than usual.
Not all the questions are polite, even if the interviewers are. Mark bites his tongue a couple of times on the response he has for the leading questions about whether their "strong personalities" were what made the marriage die. It's not that he minds being thought of as an asshole; he just wishes they'd come out and say it. For the most part, though, Mark watches Eduardo answer.
Eduardo has a boyfriend. It's a concept that has only ever applied to Chris before and tentatively to Mark's sisters, and Mark can't make it fit Eduardo. Who would Eduardo date? Not someone calm and boring like Chris's Sean, because then they'd both be-
But maybe that's what people do. Get boring, calm significant others they have things in common with and can take home for the holidays.
Mark takes Eduardo home for the holidays, but only because it's actually Eduardo who makes him go.
Maybe Eduardo would date someone different, though, someone who liked things as weird as meteorology and who graduated with a Humanities degree from some obscure Liberal Arts college.
In the break between the second and third interviews - both the gay media outlets who obviously wanted more than they were being given - Mark turns to Eduardo to ask.
Eduardo twists to the side to look back, face open, and Chris says, "Okay, the rest of these won't be as long."
Mark shuts his mouth and glares at Chris. Eduardo looks at him curiously but asks Chris, "Are we getting lunch any time today?"
"Actually," Chris says, and a minute later, some young, besuited woman drops off food and hands Chris an actual manila folder. Chris shoves the food blindly at them and fumbles into a chair while paging through the folder.
Mark takes a sandwich and one of those stupid miniature bottles of water. "You got a new assistant?" he asks. Chris's assistant has been around for years, not like Mark's or Dustin's.
"No," Chris says without looking up. "That's the VP of Communications, but thank you for not asking while she was still in the room."
Next to him, Eduardo snorts.
Mark bristles. It's never been his job to keep all the employees straight.
"What is it?" Eduardo asks Chris.
"Interviewer profiles," Chris says after a minute. He shakes his head and shuts the folder. "We scheduled everything early this morning, but two of the sites didn't tell us who'd actually be conducting their interviews."
"Interesting," Mark says flatly. Eduardo nudges his ankle under the table in reprimand.
The interview immediately after lunch is much shorter. Chris sneaks out five minutes in, making weird soundless gestures Mark takes to mean he has something better to do than sit motionlessly in a chair all day.
Eduardo just smiles harder and repeats, again, that he and Mark are parting amicably and Facebook won't be suffering for it.
The last interview is with some guy who runs his own blog, which gets half a million hits a month but Mark has never heard of. Chris comes back in for it, and the dialogue box asking permission to connect the cameras pops up, but Chris leans over and makes sure it's muted.
"Last one," he says. "This one will probably be the hardest."
"So you left it for the end?" Mark asks snidely. He's tired, and even Eduardo looks run down.
"I didn't want it to go badly and ruin your mood for the rest of the day," Chris says calmly. "I'll sit in for it." He unmutes, and Eduardo leans forward to click Accept.
It doesn't start that differently. The guy smiles, looking exactly like the unremarkable, young-thirties yuppie Mark had expected, and asks the standard questions: how they are, how Facebook is doing, how far along they are in the divorce, how they think the public will react.
One of Mark's problems with things like this is they're designed to make you give answers you couldn't possibly know.
The questions wind down, Mark starts checking the clock, and then, "Mr. Zuckerberg. You've been very quiet. Do you have anything to add?"
It's more direct than any of the rest of the interviewers were. Mark blinks. "No."
"Nothing?" the blogger asks. "Not even to put your side out there? Refute all the rumors this is a corporate move on your part?"
"A corporate move?" Mark repeats.
"Sure," the blogger says. "It'd be hard to force your husband out, but you were saddled with your CFO at the very beginning. People might wonder if-"
"I wasn't saddled with anything," Mark snaps, sitting forward. He feels Eduardo's hand on his leg and fights the urge to shake it off.
"So the separation isn't any sort of business move," the blogger says, as if he's just clarifying.
"No," Mark says. He grits his teeth. "Like we've been saying, this is just personal. It has nothing to do with business."
It's not exactly what they've been saying, not quite, and from the way Eduardo goes tense and Chris leans forward, making a cutting motion, Mark thinks he somehow walked into something here.
"Just personal," the blogger says. "Nice to know the best and brightest among us aren't perfect, I guess. So what's the reason for this personal rift?"
"Irreconcilable differences, like every divorce," Eduardo says tersely.
"Come on," the blogger says. "Whose fault is it? Not that we have to guess. We've all seen the pictures."
Mark wants to say that no, actually, they all haven't. He hadn't even known there were pictures. He's an adult, though, so he bites that back and also doesn't turn on Eduardo and demand to know what exactly the pictures are of.
Under the table, Eduardo's knuckles are going white. Mark drops his hand, uncaring if it's visible to the camera, and grabs Eduardo's wrist. Eduardo lets go of his knee, but only to lace their fingers together. Mark grabs back automatically, too busy trying to figure out how to answer the next comment - "Nobody seems really surprised. What do you have to say about that?" - without telling the blogger to go fuck himself. All of this is being recorded, and even Mark knows better than to give him that.
Still, Eduardo squeezes Mark's fingers rhythmically, especially when he tenses too visibly, and even the asshole blogger runs out of shit to say after another fifteen minutes of one-word answers.
As soon as the screen is blank, Mark turns and spits, "Why the fuck did you choose him for an interview?"
Chris sighs. "There are going to be negative stories about this. They may as well originate from one we put out there ourselves."
Mark doesn't say anything, because he knows Eduardo is willing him not to. After another moment, Chris nods and says, "I'm done with you now. You're free."
"There," Eduardo says lowly as soon as he's gone. "It's over. You survived."
Mark looks down at their hands, resting on the edge of Eduardo's chair. "It's not over."
---
And it isn't, but for once in this whole mess, Mark gets a break. They don't have to do much more press. In fact, Chris says the classiest way to deal with these situations is to lie low, so Mark gets his way of doing no public communication at all. It's still a shitstorm: Chris and his staff are horrendously busy, and every Facebook employee gets approached to give a quote, and Dustin goes into hiding, even, but Mark and Eduardo don't have to do anything, and the worst of it fades pretty quickly.
"It's boring," Chris says. "When we don't give them anything new, and you two are even still living in the same house, nobody really buys that anything is going to happen. It'll kick up again whenever the divorce is finalized, but until then nobody cares."
Nobody cares.
But people do care. Mark and Eduardo are suddenly the subject of Op-Ed pieces, political commentary, lengthy articles. Everything that discusses gay rights, divorce rates, the modern family, or even the cost or benefits of technology mentions them. Writers cram references to them into the footnotes if they have to, but they're there, used as anecdotal evidence for any one of a thousand differing opinions. Mark has never before come so close to hating the Internet.
It is quiet, though, if not peaceful, and Mark will take what he can get. The divorce proceedings move forward slowly but surely, and Facebook is fine, and he and Eduardo spend nearly every minute together because they're basically in hiding. They have their own lawyers, of course, and they see the mediator Eduardo chose, and while the media can't see any of it, it happens.
Mark takes pleasure in knowing Eduardo has been as stuck as he is. He can't risk being seen or having more pictures taken if they want this to continue dying down, which they do. So Eduardo doesn't see his-boyfriend.
Of course, because Mark's break can't last long, it's just when everything is settling that Eduardo says, "I'm going out."
Mark is sitting on the couch. Eduardo is by the front door, fully dressed. Mark stares.
"Um," Eduardo says, waiting, then says, "On a date."
"No," Mark says. "Pictures."
Eduardo shrugs a little. "We have to leave the house again sometime."
"And your boyfriend's been patient enough," Mark says.
"He's not really my boyfriend," Eduardo says, making an odd expression. "I mean, we're still just seeing each other."
Mark doesn't know the distinction, has never understood it; it's a downgrade in importance, though, that Eduardo says that, so Mark counts it a good thing and nods stiffly.
"Right," Eduardo says, watching Mark.
"I'm sure he'll be anxious to see you after the last couple of weeks," Mark says.
Eduardo sighs. "Mark, you know if you-"
Mark shifts his laptop closer while Eduardo jangles the keys in his hand. "What?" Mark prompts.
"Nothing," Eduardo says. He turns to the front door, shakes his head and shrugs, turns back to Mark, repeats the cycle.
"What?" Mark asks again. Eduardo looks nervous, which is unusual and a foreboding sign.
"I want you to meet him," Eduardo says.
---
Mark has always had a talent for expressing his opinions, so the absolute revulsion he felt at the idea of meeting Eduardo's-not-quite-boyfriend was easy enough to convey to Eduardo.
It is not so easy to suffer the resulting days of stony anger, but Mark copes. What's Eduardo going to do? Mark wasn't really worried about the potential fallout of a fight, and if the way Eduardo yelled back - about Mark's lack of basic social competency and anything resembling emotional awareness just because Mark said he doubted Eduardo's standards were high enough to make the guy worth it - was any indication, Eduardo really wasn't worried about the long-term consequences either. Secure enough in their friendship, Mark settled in and ignored the sulking. It wasn't quite as easy to ignore how Eduardo still went out on his date afterwards, but Mark managed.
So it's Friday when Dustin spins him away from his desk and says, too wildly, "I'm being forced by Chris to meet Eduardo's-you know, whatever-and you are not fucking leaving me to go it alone."
"Chris will be there," Mark says, ignoring the sucking realization that Eduardo is determined to go ahead with it, even to the extent of going around Mark.
"Without Sean, because he's working or something," Dustin says. "Chris will be the least sympathetic person ever."
If anyone would need sympathy while meeting Eduardo's whatever, it's Mark.
"No," Mark tells Dustin, and tries to turn away.
"You have to," Dustin whines, tugging at his shoulder compulsively.
"No," Mark repeats. "If he wants you and Chris to meet him, fine. I won't."
"You have to," Dustin says again, but this time he's serious. "Mark. You have to meet him."
Mark eyes him carefully. Dustin doesn't look like he's thinking about love, honor or duty, or whatever motivates most of the similar nagging Mark gets from Chris. He just looks earnest. "Why?" Mark asks finally.
Dustin shrugs. "We don't know how Eduardo's dating relationships would or will go, but even you have to admit meeting his friends is an important step."
"Yes," Mark admits grudgingly.
"So," Dustin says. "We are his friends. We owe it to him to meet this dude if he wants us to."
Love, honor and duty. Mark makes a disgusted noise.
"Okay, how about this," Dustin says. "This is an important step for Eduardo. If it's going to be serious, he wants us to approve. It's like Chris with Sean."
"And if we don't approve, he might listen to us?" Mark asks sardonically, because he can tell when he's being manipulated. Chris probably told Dustin exactly what to say.
"That's what Chris said I should tell you," Dustin says, and Mark meets his eyes in surprise. The corner of Dustin's mouth curves up. Not amusement; solidarity.
Every time Mark begins to forget why they're all friends, something like this reminds him.
"Here's what Chris didn't tell me to say," Dustin says. "You don't want this divorce, and you're not happy about any of this, but you're going along with it. What are you going to do? Stay out of the way? Avoid him? You'll end up avoiding both of them."
Mark shrugs. Dustin scowls at him in return.
"Approval won't matter," Mark says. "Eduardo doesn't like Sean. That's never stopped me from being friends with him."
"That isn't the same thing at all, are you stupid?" Dustin says.
Mark frowns. "Fuck you. Yes, it is."
"It's really not," Dustin says. "Well, except that Eduardo was worried about Sean stealing his best friend. Sean didn't oust Eduardo, though. If Eduardo gets a boyfriend, he would be throwing you over."
"That makes me eager to meet him," Mark says.
"That's why you have to meet him," Dustin says. "Come on, Mark. It's probably not serious, but if it is-"
"But if he is serious," Mark says. "How serious do you have to be to choose your whatever over your friends?" Because all Mark did was refuse to meet him, and Eduardo has held that grudge all week.
Dustin blinks at him, slow. "It can't be that serious," he says after a long silence. "I mean, he's known the guy a few months. He's known you for almost seven years and lived with and been married to you for five of them. Even if you're not having sex or, you know, whatever, that still counts for something. That counts for a lot."
Mark says, "It's only been a few months."
"Yeah," Dustin says encouragingly.
Mark knows Eduardo better than anyone. They've lived together. They've handled each other when they were sick. He knows Eduardo's family and Eduardo knows his. They have Facebook together. Eduardo can't seriously be interested in someone he's known for only two months.
"Okay," Mark says. "We'll meet him."
---
The guy's name is Etienne. He's tall and dark-haired and French, an exchange student who came to visit and never left, with a dry, lazy sense of humor and genuine disdain for modern pop culture. He is, in other words, everything Chris, Dustin, and Mark are not. Mark loathes him immediately. It's not that he's too pretty - Eduardo is pretty, Chris is pretty, that doesn't matter - but that, with his large, dark eyes, pale skin, and propensity for voicing unpopular opinions even when they make Chris narrow his eyes angrily, Mark wants to like him.
If they were meeting under any other circumstances, Mark would like him. And Mark hates him for it, because Mark only has to spend five minutes with Etienne to realize he and Eduardo would make a good pair.
The entire way over - they're meeting at Etienne's house as an icebreaker, or something, but possibly also because everyone but Mark is afraid Mark might do something inadvisable, like kill him, so they don't want to start off introductions in a public place like a restaurant - Eduardo talks, trying to fill Mark in on how they met and reassure him, as far as Mark can tell, that there's nothing to be nervous about.
Mark isn't nervous. Eduardo looks about ready to fly out of his skin.
Eduardo sat on one of the couches next to Etienne, while Mark and Chris sit on the love seat opposite and Dustin perches on the arm. Since there are only two of them, Mark thinks they should've done the polite thing and taken the love seat, so there was enough room for everyone.
Eduardo has already introduced everyone around, and he's visibly fidgeting now, probably wanting to jump in but held back by some incomprehensible social rule that means he can't do all the talking. Mark gives it thirty seconds before Chris steps in.
"So," Chris says predictably, and Mark rolls his eyes. Dustin gives him an odd look. Eduardo looks disapproving. Etienne is looking at Chris. "What do you do?"
"I'm a consultant," Etienne says. "I work as a translator for various companies."
"They have consultants for that?" Mark says. "We always just hired plain translators."
Etienne looks at him. "I work on short-term jobs. I often just approve translations that have already been worked up by other, longer-term employees."
"You can barely tell English is your second language," Chris says. He smiles at Etienne.
"English is my third," Etienne says. "German was my second."
"This guy's a dick," Dustin mutters, very quietly, into Mark's ear, while Chris smiles more fixedly and says something half-resembling an apology.
Mark snorts in agreement. Chris kicks him.
"We all work at Facebook," Eduardo says.
Mark thinks that's rather stating the obvious. He feels Dustin's leg twitch next to his, a spasm of boredom, and knows he isn't the only one who hates Etienne already.
"I've heard," Etienne says. "It seems a little boring."
"Boring?" Mark bristles.
Etienne blinks at him. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wasn't attacking your company. But I work at several companies every year. The idea of working at one place for even a year, never mind several, is just - I don't know how any of you do it."
"Facebook isn't your average company," Mark says, just as Eduardo says, "I think it's a little different when it's your own company."
"Yes, but what is Facebook?" Etienne says.
"It's a whole new platform," Mark says, forcing his jaw to unlock. "It's changed the world."
"I don't see how it's changed the world," Etienne says. "I don't use it. Most of my friends don't. Even Eduardo has told me he doesn't."
Mark feels betrayed, glowering at Eduardo. Eduardo doesn't use the internet, really, unless he's looking at meteorology or finance, but he has no reason to go around telling everyone that one of the founders of Facebook doesn't use Facebook.
"I mean," Etienne says, continuing without prompting or support, "you've made this platform, you say, but what is it that isn't like every other social networking site? You got lucky with your timing and you've done a good job growing your business, but the site is no great innovation."
Mark freezes. Eduardo has gone still, too, horrified eyes wide and apologetic in Mark's direction.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mark says, biting his tongue immediately after the sentence. Chris's hand is clutching his knee, fingers digging in like claws, and Dustin's doing the same thing behind him, pressing his hand into Mark's back. Their urge to physically restrain him, along with Eduardo's pleading eyes, gets the point across: play nice.
Eduardo jumps in after only a few more seconds of awkward silence, forcing everyone into a debate about where they should go for dinner. Chris and Dustin help carry the conversation along, and Mark keeps his mouth shut the rest of the night.
---
"Mark," Eduardo says, as soon as they climb in the car. He's driving again, and he doesn't start the engine. Instead he reaches across, fingers encircling Mark's wrist and squeezing. "Mark, I'm sorry."
Mark shakes him off and stares wordlessly out the window.
Eduardo sighs and takes the hint, driving them home silently.
When they get inside, Mark kicks off his shoes and tries to remember whether he left his laptop in the study or his bedroom.
"Mark," Eduardo says.
"He's devaluing what you do, too," Mark says. "It's not just mine. It's yours, too."
"Mark," Eduardo says again, voice softer. "It's not personal for him. To him it's just a site."
"Whatever," Mark says. "Do you know where I left my laptop?"
"Study," Eduardo says, and the corners of his mouth pull down.
---
Mark has accepted the fact that he loathes Eduardo's boyfriend and Eduardo ought to do better. He has no intention of forgiving Eduardo so readily, either, but Eduardo makes it worse because the very next day, Mark doesn't see him until well after one in the afternoon.
"I'm sorry I missed lunch," Eduardo says.
Mark doesn't look up at him.
"I meant to text you, I didn't realize it hadn't gone through," Eduardo continues.
"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't hear your phone's error alert," Mark says. Eduardo's phone has the speaker from hell; even its silent mode is audible.
Eduardo gives him a quelling look. "I was busy."
"I'm sure," Mark says. "But it's okay if I wait around for you."
"Yes, that was my fault, but I don't know why you're so angry," Eduardo says. "Would you stop stabbing your keyboard, I'm trying to talk to you."
"I waited for you," Mark mutters, and keeps poking at his keyboard mutinously.
"And I'm sorry," Eduardo says. "But I've missed eating with you before, and you've missed eating with me occasionally. Why are you so mad?"
"You didn't miss," Mark says. "You didn't run late and forget to text me you were stuck in traffic. You deliberately skipped and you lacked the foresight to tell me."
"It wasn't exactly planned weeks in advance," Eduardo says dryly.
Mark starts scrolling through code with sharp, jerky movements.
"You're angry that I ate with someone instead of you," Eduardo says, faint attempt at humor gone as a look of realization dawns. "You think I ditched you."
"For him," Mark spits out.
He is angry. He is, because he doesn't understand. None of this makes any sense. Nobody will explain it to him, because Mark suspects nobody else knows either. Eduardo does, but Mark can't understand Eduardo on the best of days. The only reason they work is because Eduardo is always happy to explain himself, often without prompting.
But now all the prompting Mark has done, and there's still no explanation. Etienne is fine, yes, he's a good enough match for Eduardo, but Mark has been a good match for Eduardo for years. Why doesn't he put Mark first? Mark is his husband and his business partner and his best friend, and Etienne is just - a guy.
A hot French guy, and yeah, he's clever, but he's also arrogant and rude, and he doesn't respect anyone's opinions, even on topics he knows nothing about, such as other people’s sites.
And if it really is just sex Eduardo is looking for, Etienne isn't that hot. Eduardo is beautiful and nice and smart and a billionaire, he could probably get anyone in the world. He could definitely get anyone in California.
"Yes," Eduardo says. "Because, and I know you're aware of this, when you're dating someone, you do have to see them every once in a while. And that means I have to spend a little less time doing other things, which means I will spend less time with you. If I normally have lunch with you every day, then having a lunch date means I'll have to cancel with you. It doesn't mean anything besides that we spend most of our time together."
Mark grits his teeth.
Eduardo says, "There's nothing I can do about it. Dating someone means I won't see you as much. Eventually, so will getting the divorce, you realize that, too, right?"
Irritatingly, Eduardo actually seems to be awaiting an answer, watching Mark carefully for his response. Mark feels wound tight, but he forces himself to unclench, and he says, "Yes, I do realize that."
"And you'll be okay?" Eduardo asks, as if it's a real question and not a farce. It's not a real question. What if Mark said no? What if he said, no, he's not okay and he won't be okay, and Eduardo needs to come home immediately? And stay. The staying is the important part.
That's not an option. There's only one answer Mark can give. "Yes," he says. "It's fine."
"Mark," Eduardo says earnestly. "If you-"
"I said it's fine," Mark says sharply. He isn't in the mood for one of Eduardo's declarations of loyalty, especially when it's a blatant lie. If Eduardo were really loyal, he wouldn't have gone on a lunch date with Etienne today. He wouldn't have continued dating him at all after what he'd said about Facebook. "It doesn't matter."
Eduardo looks hurt, too hurt, for reasons Mark doesn't understand, before his face smooths blank. Mark doesn't give a shit. Eduardo's the one who's leaving. He doesn't get to be upset when Mark is only cooperating.
"I'll see you tonight," Eduardo says, and doesn't wait for a response before walking out of Mark's office.
Mark can't work after that. He's hungry, is most of the problem, but he saw Dustin skulking around earlier, and if he thinks Mark isn't absorbed, he'll attack. Mark doesn't have the energy to talk to him right now.
By mid-afternoon, his stomach has quieted again, curling up into a small, tight knot. He gets a few emails from Eduardo, just work related, and Chris sends him a schedule through his assistant that Mark ignores, and that's the closest he comes to talking to anyone the rest of the day. He leaves at five thirty, because it's late enough nobody will look at him too oddly, but he needs to get home and eat, maybe shower, and then he can try working there.
Chris catches him by the front door. He looks harried, and he actually has two cellphones, one in each hand. Mark braces himself, but Chris looks him over, glances down as if he's forgotten they're there. He shakes his head. "Not for you," he says. "Something I'm handling."
"What then?" Mark says. He yanks the strap of his bag up higher on his shoulder and thinks he really needs to get a new one. This is one of Eduardo's spares, and Mark hates briefcases and messenger bags. They're impossible to hold comfortably.
"You and Eduardo fought," Chris says.
"No, we didn't," Mark says. "Are you having Dustin spy on me again?"
"No," Chris says, "and yes, you did."
"Not about anything important," Mark says. He adds, by rote now, "I'm fine."
"I don't care if you're fine," Chris snaps. He sets the phones on the front reception desk and pulls Mark off to the side, tucking them into a corner by the front doors. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What?" Mark asks blankly.
"Eduardo is trying to date someone," Chris says. "That means-"
"That he'll spend more time with other people, yes, we covered this," Mark says testily. "I told him I'd be fine."
"Mark, shut up, this isn't about you," Chris says. "You need to think about him. He's as unsettled right now as you are. Don't take it out on him. I'd prefer you didn't take it out on anyone, but since that's a wasted wish, just leave him alone."
"If he's unsettled too, it's his fault," Mark points out. He has to hitch the bag up again, and he tugs a little too hard, frustrated.
"This isn't about whose fault this is," Chris says. "Especially since I'm not sure there is anyone at fault. I think this is good."
"No," Mark says firmly. His voice is more sharp than he intended but he can't make himself lower it. "It's not good."
"Okay, look. I thought you two were together," Chris says. "Even though I've never seen you kiss or hug or do more than fall against each other when you're drunk, and even then you both manage to keep your hands to yourselves. You know why I still thought you were a couple?"
"Because we stayed married," Mark says. Everyone has made it clear that was not a normal course of action, especially Chris.
"No, actually," Chris says. "Because the amount of dependency you two developed only made sense to me if you were actually in a relationship."
"We're not dependent on each other," Mark says, offended. The bag makes a dive for the floor.
Chris catches it for him but doesn't hand it over, holding it hostage. "You don't know how to function in public without him," Chris says. "You barely know how to dress yourself because you've never developed a system for matching the clothes you own, because you rely on Eduardo to tell you when you can't go out in public. You barely know how to do anything but run Facebook. He helps with Facebook, but mostly he helps with you. You probably couldn't function if left to your own devices right now. I'm sure you could learn, just like I'm sure if he hadn't been around you would've learned already. But you didn't, because he is. And he's a social person, Mark, but he's spent five years with little to no social life outside of us and work because he doesn't force you outside your comfort zone."
"Fuck off," Mark says tightly.
Chris's face softens. "Mark, I'm not trying to attack you. I'm just pointing out that the two of you have developed this insular little world. And it's fine. It seems to have made both of you happy for a long time. But it's not normal, and Eduardo seems to have decided he wants normal. Even if he doesn't want everything to change, I think it's understandable if he wants a normal boyfriend. He can't do that without breaking a lot of what you two have settled into, but it's just as hard for him to break away as it is for you to let him, I promise."
"I'm not letting him," Mark grumbles. It's petty.
"You are," Chris says. "For the most part. And it's-you're handling it better than I thought you would. You are letting him. I thought you'd fight so hard from the beginning, he'd give up. It wouldn't take much."
"Eduardo's stubborn," Mark protests.
"So are you," Chris retorts. "But I mean that you've got a pretty long track record of putting him in situations where there's either no choice at all or only one of the options is actually viable."
"No, I don't," Mark says. He catches himself running his thumb along the seam of his jeans pocket and makes himself stop.
"You got married because it was that or get deported," Chris says. "He's CFO still because it was either work with you as CFO or lose his best friend. He's still not speaking to his father because it was either that or divorce you, and divorcing you, as we've seen, is messing everything else up. Can you imagine if he'd tried to divorce you after the first year, or the second, and you'd taken it badly?"
"He was a finance business major: he was always going to work somewhere like this," Mark says automatically, though he knows better than anyone that Eduardo would've been able to work anywhere he wanted. He can't say anything to the rest of it, except, "I'm not controlling him."
"No," Chris says, "but you're sure as fuck influencing him."
Mark nods dumbly. One marriage certificate and Mark tied Eduardo to Facebook and to himself, and Eduardo hadn't declined because he hadn't had a choice. Mark hadn't thought-he wonders if Chris has looked at it this way all along; if Eduardo would agree with him.
"Don't take it out on him," Chris repeats, more quietly. "You're both readjusting. You're right, you will be fine. But stop being an asshole. This is hard for him, too, and the last five years have been worse for him than you. He's earned a little leniency from you, even if he screws up."
"So what?" Mark asks, a little desperate. He doesn't want to talk to Chris anymore. "What do you want me to do? I already agreed to the divorce, we're still friends, he's dating someone."
"I want you to try to be happy for him," Chris says. "And since I know that's probably a stretch, I want you to keep in mind that it was just a damn lunch date, and if you hadn't been feeling childish, you could've got food without him as soon as you knew he wasn't coming."
Chris is right: it is a stretch. Mark is not going to be happy for Eduardo while he abandons every responsibility he's acquired since he and Mark met, and Mark doesn't think that should be lauded. "Screw you," Mark mutters, and starts to push past Chris, laptop bag be damned.
"Take it," Chris says, shoving it at him. He has a frown line on his forehead, the first wrinkle he has. Mark hasn't noticed it before, but he takes a vindictive pleasure knowing he put it there. Chris fucks with their lives enough. He deserves some sort of agony from that.
---
For once he's beaten Eduardo home. He forages in the kitchen, making a sandwich and coming away with a bowl of what he's pretty sure is some type of fruit salad. It smells like too many spices, the way everything Eduardo makes does, because he insists he can cook without recipes but he actually has a pretty weak sense of taste and smell. Mark has long since gotten used to it, and while he's pretty sure he just tasted paprika on pineapple, it doesn't matter; he's always eaten anything.
Eduardo doesn't make much noise when he comes home, but Mark is listening for him, and he hears the soft snick of the door. He sets his bowl of bleeding pineapple aside and waits until he hears Eduardo go into the living room to go out to talk to him. Mark doesn't like talking in hallways. In the event it turns into an argument, Eduardo wouldn't have room to pace and move and throw himself around, all of which help him with stress relief. Talking in open rooms has generally meant an overall decrease in the amount of time Mark has to yell back at Eduardo.
Eduardo is sitting on the couch, he's always sitting on the couch - but Dustin and Chris are right, of course, Chris is always right about Eduardo; Eduardo must be bored, must be tired, must want to move along with his life. Normal people, if Mark is going to judge Eduardo as "normal" against everyone else they know, would not be content to sit on the same couch for five years when they're married and thus not actively dating.
The more he considers it, Mark starts to become impressed by Eduardo's dedication. He's always been a social creature; it's nearly unbelievable he's waited this long to want something to change.
"Mark," Eduardo says on a sigh, "I don't know what you're trying to say."
"I'm apologizing," Mark says stiffly. "I've never considered that you probably felt trapped."
"Trapped?" Eduardo says. His face is almost comical. He looks like he's trying to figure out if Mark is joking.
"You haven't had much outside of Facebook," Mark says. "We've both, for the last five years - Chris has Sean, and even Dustin has had girlfriends. I didn't think it mattered, but I haven't let you have any of that. I've sort of forced you into this."
"You haven't let me," Eduardo says, flat and loud.
Mark shrugs. He turns and leans over the couch, scooping his laptop up. Even once he's got it he stays where he is, resting his hand on the smooth leather seams of the back of the couch. "You couldn't have really said no to any of it, could you? Not without risking losing a lot more than I would've."
There's a beat of silence. Mark can hear Eduardo breathe, faster than his normal cadence, upset. Then-
"You are so fucking full of yourself," Eduardo says. He sounds incredulous.
Mark jerks up, staring at him.
"I couldn't have said no?" Eduardo parrots. "I'm not powerless, Mark. I never have been. Did you ever think maybe I lied? Maybe I made the entire thing up because you were going to take everything from me and you couldn't, once we were married. If you were busy fighting to keep me, you couldn't also push me away. It guaranteed me a place in the company, in a way ownership and employment contracts couldn't have."
There's more silence. One second, two, while Mark thinks and rearranges things in his mind and tries to-
"No," Mark says, but it comes out a little weak. "You didn't."
Eduardo looks at him for a moment, unflinching. Then he smiles softly, familiar and nearly condescending. "No," he says. "I didn't."
Mark breathes out fully, and it sounds like a sigh.
"But I could've," Eduardo says. "You see? You never checked what my citizenship status was. This could've as easily been my fault, keeping you for five years, living the same house and working together every day of the year. I may not have had a life outside you for five years, but you didn't have one outside me, either. There are two of us in this marriage, and we both agreed to it. We also both could've ended it."
It takes another long minute of watching Eduardo's unwavering smile, amusement at Mark tucked in the corner of his mouth like a dimple, for Mark to believe him fully. It's like stretching as he does, expanding his careful, curled memories into the concept that they both wanted all of this. He still has to answer, though he doesn't know how to articulate what he's feeling. Eduardo won't relent until he does. "That was impassioned," Mark says, and the sarcasm crashes into the room as easily as always.
"You're welcome," Eduardo says, amusement turning wry, "for heading that potential lifelong guilt complex off at the pass for you."
Mark smiles back. It doesn't fix anything. The fact remains that Eduardo still wants to divorce him now, regardless of how he was happy before. It should make things worse, even, because they were happy before and now they're not.
But Eduardo shakes his head and then, three minutes later, ends up yelling at Mark for eating all of his disgusting spicy pineapple, and divorce or not, Mark would classify this as pretty happy anyway.
They watch TV together, because Mark doesn't leave the living room and Eduardo uses him as a foot warmer instead of one of his blankets, sliding his legs behind Mark's back. During one of the commercials in the B-grade Scifi movie Mark chose, Eduardo asks casually, "Where'd you get that idea anyway?"
"Hm," Mark says, watching a Tide mom bemoan her children's clothes very closely.
"The idea that you ruin my life," Eduardo says. "What brought it on?"
"Nothing," Mark says, and changes the channel emphatically to a loud Die Hard movie, catching it mid-explosion.
"Yeah," Eduardo mutters. "I thought so."
He excuses himself to make a phone call, and he runs his hand over Mark's hair as he leaves the room. Mark doesn't duck out from underneath because he understands the unnecessary pseudo-apology for what it is.
"Chris," Eduardo says into his phone, before he shuts the door on the study and Mark can't hear him down the hall anymore.
Mark sighs and leans back into the couch, and he can't help but doubt slightly that Chris deserves the censure he's about to receive. He was right - not in what he said, but in what he meant. The underlying point is right. Eduardo is leaving and it's only fair to let him, and Mark needs to be happy for him.
If he isn't happy for him, he'll just be miserable, and Mark doesn't like being miserable.
Part Three
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Epilogue
Chris is proven to be painfully omniscient as always. Mark's woken early Monday by Eduardo's familiar weight on the edge of his mattress and Eduardo's hand on his shoulder.
"It leaked," Eduardo says. "Some intern in our mediator's office. Chris has already dealt with her and set up a few interviews for us."
"I have to-" Mark says blearily, struggling to wake completely.
"You're not going into the office today," Eduardo says grimly, and goes to pull slacks and a dress shirt from Mark's closet for him.
Mark gets dressed because Eduardo has a truly terrifying expression on today, and they take Eduardo's car to some nice but nondescript building about ten minutes from Facebook.
"Why does Facebook PR have offices in a building not associated with Facebook?" Mark asks when Chris meets them inside.
"Because sometimes Facebook PR has to deal with issues we don't want connected to the rest of Facebook," Chris says. "Or that we don't want the rest of Facebook wandering in on."
Mark blinks and takes the sugared coffee Eduardo shoves into his hands.
"Besides, Facebook is swarmed with photographers right now. We want to control your exposure. That means keeping you away from there for now."
"There are pictures of us online," Eduardo interrupts, sounding repulsed. "In front of our house."
Mark leans over and looks. Eduardo has googled them on his laptop, pulling up the first several news articles, which include pictures of Eduardo going to work, face set, and Mark going off a few hours later, looking no happier. The headlines proclaim various melodramatic truths about their recent relationship developments.
"It was morning," Mark says. "Of course we looked unhappy. Why do they care?"
"You're not celebrities," Chris says. "But you're rich and gay and rich. They care."
"You couldn't stop this?" Mark demands, a little sharply. That is Chris's job.
"Do you know what time I got up this morning?" Chris snaps back. "Shut up. We've done as much as we could. They had pictures of Eduardo and-"
"And?" Mark prompts, narrowing his eyes. Eduardo twists to look between him and Chris.
"-and his boyfriend," Chris continues, unflinching, as if he never stopped. "But we kept all of those out of print."
And his boyfriend.
Mark blinks while Chris keeps talking, explaining to him and Eduardo who they'll be talking to today. Two prominent gay media outlets, two left-leaning news sources, one or two independent blogs that are popular and middle of the road. One statement they'll approve for a general posting to Facebook official business associates who might worry about possible upheaval. Eduardo says several times that it's good they don't have stockholders or a board they have to worry about.
Mark can't imagine Eduardo having a boyfriend.
"Mark," Eduardo says. "Hey, Mark, come on. Please pay attention."
"I am," Mark says irritably, shaking him off. Eduardo looks resigned and turns back to Chris.
"Look, this is supposed to be as easy as possible," Chris says, before stepping off to the side, leaving Mark and Eduardo sitting alone in front of the screen where the first video conference is loading.
"Just let me do most of the talking," Eduardo says quietly. His hand drops to Mark's knee and squeezes.
"Yeah," Mark says, giving Eduardo a look. Eduardo gives him one right back before straightening and smiling professionally blankly at the camera in preparation.
He squeezes Mark's knee again before letting go, Mark yawns, and the first interviewer appears on screen.
---
Mark can't stay completely silent. It would look weird if he did, and it's a moot point anyway, since each interviewer has questions specifically for him. They also have several, most obviously the ones about Facebook, that they clearly meant for him to answer. They look surprised when Eduardo responds instead, as if a divorce would change the way they've operated their company for five years. But that's part of what they're here to prove, that it won't, so Mark continues to sit back and ignore the questions, but he feels more smug about it than usual.
Not all the questions are polite, even if the interviewers are. Mark bites his tongue a couple of times on the response he has for the leading questions about whether their "strong personalities" were what made the marriage die. It's not that he minds being thought of as an asshole; he just wishes they'd come out and say it. For the most part, though, Mark watches Eduardo answer.
Eduardo has a boyfriend. It's a concept that has only ever applied to Chris before and tentatively to Mark's sisters, and Mark can't make it fit Eduardo. Who would Eduardo date? Not someone calm and boring like Chris's Sean, because then they'd both be-
But maybe that's what people do. Get boring, calm significant others they have things in common with and can take home for the holidays.
Mark takes Eduardo home for the holidays, but only because it's actually Eduardo who makes him go.
Maybe Eduardo would date someone different, though, someone who liked things as weird as meteorology and who graduated with a Humanities degree from some obscure Liberal Arts college.
In the break between the second and third interviews - both the gay media outlets who obviously wanted more than they were being given - Mark turns to Eduardo to ask.
Eduardo twists to the side to look back, face open, and Chris says, "Okay, the rest of these won't be as long."
Mark shuts his mouth and glares at Chris. Eduardo looks at him curiously but asks Chris, "Are we getting lunch any time today?"
"Actually," Chris says, and a minute later, some young, besuited woman drops off food and hands Chris an actual manila folder. Chris shoves the food blindly at them and fumbles into a chair while paging through the folder.
Mark takes a sandwich and one of those stupid miniature bottles of water. "You got a new assistant?" he asks. Chris's assistant has been around for years, not like Mark's or Dustin's.
"No," Chris says without looking up. "That's the VP of Communications, but thank you for not asking while she was still in the room."
Next to him, Eduardo snorts.
Mark bristles. It's never been his job to keep all the employees straight.
"What is it?" Eduardo asks Chris.
"Interviewer profiles," Chris says after a minute. He shakes his head and shuts the folder. "We scheduled everything early this morning, but two of the sites didn't tell us who'd actually be conducting their interviews."
"Interesting," Mark says flatly. Eduardo nudges his ankle under the table in reprimand.
The interview immediately after lunch is much shorter. Chris sneaks out five minutes in, making weird soundless gestures Mark takes to mean he has something better to do than sit motionlessly in a chair all day.
Eduardo just smiles harder and repeats, again, that he and Mark are parting amicably and Facebook won't be suffering for it.
The last interview is with some guy who runs his own blog, which gets half a million hits a month but Mark has never heard of. Chris comes back in for it, and the dialogue box asking permission to connect the cameras pops up, but Chris leans over and makes sure it's muted.
"Last one," he says. "This one will probably be the hardest."
"So you left it for the end?" Mark asks snidely. He's tired, and even Eduardo looks run down.
"I didn't want it to go badly and ruin your mood for the rest of the day," Chris says calmly. "I'll sit in for it." He unmutes, and Eduardo leans forward to click Accept.
It doesn't start that differently. The guy smiles, looking exactly like the unremarkable, young-thirties yuppie Mark had expected, and asks the standard questions: how they are, how Facebook is doing, how far along they are in the divorce, how they think the public will react.
One of Mark's problems with things like this is they're designed to make you give answers you couldn't possibly know.
The questions wind down, Mark starts checking the clock, and then, "Mr. Zuckerberg. You've been very quiet. Do you have anything to add?"
It's more direct than any of the rest of the interviewers were. Mark blinks. "No."
"Nothing?" the blogger asks. "Not even to put your side out there? Refute all the rumors this is a corporate move on your part?"
"A corporate move?" Mark repeats.
"Sure," the blogger says. "It'd be hard to force your husband out, but you were saddled with your CFO at the very beginning. People might wonder if-"
"I wasn't saddled with anything," Mark snaps, sitting forward. He feels Eduardo's hand on his leg and fights the urge to shake it off.
"So the separation isn't any sort of business move," the blogger says, as if he's just clarifying.
"No," Mark says. He grits his teeth. "Like we've been saying, this is just personal. It has nothing to do with business."
It's not exactly what they've been saying, not quite, and from the way Eduardo goes tense and Chris leans forward, making a cutting motion, Mark thinks he somehow walked into something here.
"Just personal," the blogger says. "Nice to know the best and brightest among us aren't perfect, I guess. So what's the reason for this personal rift?"
"Irreconcilable differences, like every divorce," Eduardo says tersely.
"Come on," the blogger says. "Whose fault is it? Not that we have to guess. We've all seen the pictures."
Mark wants to say that no, actually, they all haven't. He hadn't even known there were pictures. He's an adult, though, so he bites that back and also doesn't turn on Eduardo and demand to know what exactly the pictures are of.
Under the table, Eduardo's knuckles are going white. Mark drops his hand, uncaring if it's visible to the camera, and grabs Eduardo's wrist. Eduardo lets go of his knee, but only to lace their fingers together. Mark grabs back automatically, too busy trying to figure out how to answer the next comment - "Nobody seems really surprised. What do you have to say about that?" - without telling the blogger to go fuck himself. All of this is being recorded, and even Mark knows better than to give him that.
Still, Eduardo squeezes Mark's fingers rhythmically, especially when he tenses too visibly, and even the asshole blogger runs out of shit to say after another fifteen minutes of one-word answers.
As soon as the screen is blank, Mark turns and spits, "Why the fuck did you choose him for an interview?"
Chris sighs. "There are going to be negative stories about this. They may as well originate from one we put out there ourselves."
Mark doesn't say anything, because he knows Eduardo is willing him not to. After another moment, Chris nods and says, "I'm done with you now. You're free."
"There," Eduardo says lowly as soon as he's gone. "It's over. You survived."
Mark looks down at their hands, resting on the edge of Eduardo's chair. "It's not over."
---
And it isn't, but for once in this whole mess, Mark gets a break. They don't have to do much more press. In fact, Chris says the classiest way to deal with these situations is to lie low, so Mark gets his way of doing no public communication at all. It's still a shitstorm: Chris and his staff are horrendously busy, and every Facebook employee gets approached to give a quote, and Dustin goes into hiding, even, but Mark and Eduardo don't have to do anything, and the worst of it fades pretty quickly.
"It's boring," Chris says. "When we don't give them anything new, and you two are even still living in the same house, nobody really buys that anything is going to happen. It'll kick up again whenever the divorce is finalized, but until then nobody cares."
Nobody cares.
But people do care. Mark and Eduardo are suddenly the subject of Op-Ed pieces, political commentary, lengthy articles. Everything that discusses gay rights, divorce rates, the modern family, or even the cost or benefits of technology mentions them. Writers cram references to them into the footnotes if they have to, but they're there, used as anecdotal evidence for any one of a thousand differing opinions. Mark has never before come so close to hating the Internet.
It is quiet, though, if not peaceful, and Mark will take what he can get. The divorce proceedings move forward slowly but surely, and Facebook is fine, and he and Eduardo spend nearly every minute together because they're basically in hiding. They have their own lawyers, of course, and they see the mediator Eduardo chose, and while the media can't see any of it, it happens.
Mark takes pleasure in knowing Eduardo has been as stuck as he is. He can't risk being seen or having more pictures taken if they want this to continue dying down, which they do. So Eduardo doesn't see his-boyfriend.
Of course, because Mark's break can't last long, it's just when everything is settling that Eduardo says, "I'm going out."
Mark is sitting on the couch. Eduardo is by the front door, fully dressed. Mark stares.
"Um," Eduardo says, waiting, then says, "On a date."
"No," Mark says. "Pictures."
Eduardo shrugs a little. "We have to leave the house again sometime."
"And your boyfriend's been patient enough," Mark says.
"He's not really my boyfriend," Eduardo says, making an odd expression. "I mean, we're still just seeing each other."
Mark doesn't know the distinction, has never understood it; it's a downgrade in importance, though, that Eduardo says that, so Mark counts it a good thing and nods stiffly.
"Right," Eduardo says, watching Mark.
"I'm sure he'll be anxious to see you after the last couple of weeks," Mark says.
Eduardo sighs. "Mark, you know if you-"
Mark shifts his laptop closer while Eduardo jangles the keys in his hand. "What?" Mark prompts.
"Nothing," Eduardo says. He turns to the front door, shakes his head and shrugs, turns back to Mark, repeats the cycle.
"What?" Mark asks again. Eduardo looks nervous, which is unusual and a foreboding sign.
"I want you to meet him," Eduardo says.
---
Mark has always had a talent for expressing his opinions, so the absolute revulsion he felt at the idea of meeting Eduardo's-not-quite-boyfriend was easy enough to convey to Eduardo.
It is not so easy to suffer the resulting days of stony anger, but Mark copes. What's Eduardo going to do? Mark wasn't really worried about the potential fallout of a fight, and if the way Eduardo yelled back - about Mark's lack of basic social competency and anything resembling emotional awareness just because Mark said he doubted Eduardo's standards were high enough to make the guy worth it - was any indication, Eduardo really wasn't worried about the long-term consequences either. Secure enough in their friendship, Mark settled in and ignored the sulking. It wasn't quite as easy to ignore how Eduardo still went out on his date afterwards, but Mark managed.
So it's Friday when Dustin spins him away from his desk and says, too wildly, "I'm being forced by Chris to meet Eduardo's-you know, whatever-and you are not fucking leaving me to go it alone."
"Chris will be there," Mark says, ignoring the sucking realization that Eduardo is determined to go ahead with it, even to the extent of going around Mark.
"Without Sean, because he's working or something," Dustin says. "Chris will be the least sympathetic person ever."
If anyone would need sympathy while meeting Eduardo's whatever, it's Mark.
"No," Mark tells Dustin, and tries to turn away.
"You have to," Dustin whines, tugging at his shoulder compulsively.
"No," Mark repeats. "If he wants you and Chris to meet him, fine. I won't."
"You have to," Dustin says again, but this time he's serious. "Mark. You have to meet him."
Mark eyes him carefully. Dustin doesn't look like he's thinking about love, honor or duty, or whatever motivates most of the similar nagging Mark gets from Chris. He just looks earnest. "Why?" Mark asks finally.
Dustin shrugs. "We don't know how Eduardo's dating relationships would or will go, but even you have to admit meeting his friends is an important step."
"Yes," Mark admits grudgingly.
"So," Dustin says. "We are his friends. We owe it to him to meet this dude if he wants us to."
Love, honor and duty. Mark makes a disgusted noise.
"Okay, how about this," Dustin says. "This is an important step for Eduardo. If it's going to be serious, he wants us to approve. It's like Chris with Sean."
"And if we don't approve, he might listen to us?" Mark asks sardonically, because he can tell when he's being manipulated. Chris probably told Dustin exactly what to say.
"That's what Chris said I should tell you," Dustin says, and Mark meets his eyes in surprise. The corner of Dustin's mouth curves up. Not amusement; solidarity.
Every time Mark begins to forget why they're all friends, something like this reminds him.
"Here's what Chris didn't tell me to say," Dustin says. "You don't want this divorce, and you're not happy about any of this, but you're going along with it. What are you going to do? Stay out of the way? Avoid him? You'll end up avoiding both of them."
Mark shrugs. Dustin scowls at him in return.
"Approval won't matter," Mark says. "Eduardo doesn't like Sean. That's never stopped me from being friends with him."
"That isn't the same thing at all, are you stupid?" Dustin says.
Mark frowns. "Fuck you. Yes, it is."
"It's really not," Dustin says. "Well, except that Eduardo was worried about Sean stealing his best friend. Sean didn't oust Eduardo, though. If Eduardo gets a boyfriend, he would be throwing you over."
"That makes me eager to meet him," Mark says.
"That's why you have to meet him," Dustin says. "Come on, Mark. It's probably not serious, but if it is-"
"But if he is serious," Mark says. "How serious do you have to be to choose your whatever over your friends?" Because all Mark did was refuse to meet him, and Eduardo has held that grudge all week.
Dustin blinks at him, slow. "It can't be that serious," he says after a long silence. "I mean, he's known the guy a few months. He's known you for almost seven years and lived with and been married to you for five of them. Even if you're not having sex or, you know, whatever, that still counts for something. That counts for a lot."
Mark says, "It's only been a few months."
"Yeah," Dustin says encouragingly.
Mark knows Eduardo better than anyone. They've lived together. They've handled each other when they were sick. He knows Eduardo's family and Eduardo knows his. They have Facebook together. Eduardo can't seriously be interested in someone he's known for only two months.
"Okay," Mark says. "We'll meet him."
---
The guy's name is Etienne. He's tall and dark-haired and French, an exchange student who came to visit and never left, with a dry, lazy sense of humor and genuine disdain for modern pop culture. He is, in other words, everything Chris, Dustin, and Mark are not. Mark loathes him immediately. It's not that he's too pretty - Eduardo is pretty, Chris is pretty, that doesn't matter - but that, with his large, dark eyes, pale skin, and propensity for voicing unpopular opinions even when they make Chris narrow his eyes angrily, Mark wants to like him.
If they were meeting under any other circumstances, Mark would like him. And Mark hates him for it, because Mark only has to spend five minutes with Etienne to realize he and Eduardo would make a good pair.
The entire way over - they're meeting at Etienne's house as an icebreaker, or something, but possibly also because everyone but Mark is afraid Mark might do something inadvisable, like kill him, so they don't want to start off introductions in a public place like a restaurant - Eduardo talks, trying to fill Mark in on how they met and reassure him, as far as Mark can tell, that there's nothing to be nervous about.
Mark isn't nervous. Eduardo looks about ready to fly out of his skin.
Eduardo sat on one of the couches next to Etienne, while Mark and Chris sit on the love seat opposite and Dustin perches on the arm. Since there are only two of them, Mark thinks they should've done the polite thing and taken the love seat, so there was enough room for everyone.
Eduardo has already introduced everyone around, and he's visibly fidgeting now, probably wanting to jump in but held back by some incomprehensible social rule that means he can't do all the talking. Mark gives it thirty seconds before Chris steps in.
"So," Chris says predictably, and Mark rolls his eyes. Dustin gives him an odd look. Eduardo looks disapproving. Etienne is looking at Chris. "What do you do?"
"I'm a consultant," Etienne says. "I work as a translator for various companies."
"They have consultants for that?" Mark says. "We always just hired plain translators."
Etienne looks at him. "I work on short-term jobs. I often just approve translations that have already been worked up by other, longer-term employees."
"You can barely tell English is your second language," Chris says. He smiles at Etienne.
"English is my third," Etienne says. "German was my second."
"This guy's a dick," Dustin mutters, very quietly, into Mark's ear, while Chris smiles more fixedly and says something half-resembling an apology.
Mark snorts in agreement. Chris kicks him.
"We all work at Facebook," Eduardo says.
Mark thinks that's rather stating the obvious. He feels Dustin's leg twitch next to his, a spasm of boredom, and knows he isn't the only one who hates Etienne already.
"I've heard," Etienne says. "It seems a little boring."
"Boring?" Mark bristles.
Etienne blinks at him. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wasn't attacking your company. But I work at several companies every year. The idea of working at one place for even a year, never mind several, is just - I don't know how any of you do it."
"Facebook isn't your average company," Mark says, just as Eduardo says, "I think it's a little different when it's your own company."
"Yes, but what is Facebook?" Etienne says.
"It's a whole new platform," Mark says, forcing his jaw to unlock. "It's changed the world."
"I don't see how it's changed the world," Etienne says. "I don't use it. Most of my friends don't. Even Eduardo has told me he doesn't."
Mark feels betrayed, glowering at Eduardo. Eduardo doesn't use the internet, really, unless he's looking at meteorology or finance, but he has no reason to go around telling everyone that one of the founders of Facebook doesn't use Facebook.
"I mean," Etienne says, continuing without prompting or support, "you've made this platform, you say, but what is it that isn't like every other social networking site? You got lucky with your timing and you've done a good job growing your business, but the site is no great innovation."
Mark freezes. Eduardo has gone still, too, horrified eyes wide and apologetic in Mark's direction.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mark says, biting his tongue immediately after the sentence. Chris's hand is clutching his knee, fingers digging in like claws, and Dustin's doing the same thing behind him, pressing his hand into Mark's back. Their urge to physically restrain him, along with Eduardo's pleading eyes, gets the point across: play nice.
Eduardo jumps in after only a few more seconds of awkward silence, forcing everyone into a debate about where they should go for dinner. Chris and Dustin help carry the conversation along, and Mark keeps his mouth shut the rest of the night.
---
"Mark," Eduardo says, as soon as they climb in the car. He's driving again, and he doesn't start the engine. Instead he reaches across, fingers encircling Mark's wrist and squeezing. "Mark, I'm sorry."
Mark shakes him off and stares wordlessly out the window.
Eduardo sighs and takes the hint, driving them home silently.
When they get inside, Mark kicks off his shoes and tries to remember whether he left his laptop in the study or his bedroom.
"Mark," Eduardo says.
"He's devaluing what you do, too," Mark says. "It's not just mine. It's yours, too."
"Mark," Eduardo says again, voice softer. "It's not personal for him. To him it's just a site."
"Whatever," Mark says. "Do you know where I left my laptop?"
"Study," Eduardo says, and the corners of his mouth pull down.
---
Mark has accepted the fact that he loathes Eduardo's boyfriend and Eduardo ought to do better. He has no intention of forgiving Eduardo so readily, either, but Eduardo makes it worse because the very next day, Mark doesn't see him until well after one in the afternoon.
"I'm sorry I missed lunch," Eduardo says.
Mark doesn't look up at him.
"I meant to text you, I didn't realize it hadn't gone through," Eduardo continues.
"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't hear your phone's error alert," Mark says. Eduardo's phone has the speaker from hell; even its silent mode is audible.
Eduardo gives him a quelling look. "I was busy."
"I'm sure," Mark says. "But it's okay if I wait around for you."
"Yes, that was my fault, but I don't know why you're so angry," Eduardo says. "Would you stop stabbing your keyboard, I'm trying to talk to you."
"I waited for you," Mark mutters, and keeps poking at his keyboard mutinously.
"And I'm sorry," Eduardo says. "But I've missed eating with you before, and you've missed eating with me occasionally. Why are you so mad?"
"You didn't miss," Mark says. "You didn't run late and forget to text me you were stuck in traffic. You deliberately skipped and you lacked the foresight to tell me."
"It wasn't exactly planned weeks in advance," Eduardo says dryly.
Mark starts scrolling through code with sharp, jerky movements.
"You're angry that I ate with someone instead of you," Eduardo says, faint attempt at humor gone as a look of realization dawns. "You think I ditched you."
"For him," Mark spits out.
He is angry. He is, because he doesn't understand. None of this makes any sense. Nobody will explain it to him, because Mark suspects nobody else knows either. Eduardo does, but Mark can't understand Eduardo on the best of days. The only reason they work is because Eduardo is always happy to explain himself, often without prompting.
But now all the prompting Mark has done, and there's still no explanation. Etienne is fine, yes, he's a good enough match for Eduardo, but Mark has been a good match for Eduardo for years. Why doesn't he put Mark first? Mark is his husband and his business partner and his best friend, and Etienne is just - a guy.
A hot French guy, and yeah, he's clever, but he's also arrogant and rude, and he doesn't respect anyone's opinions, even on topics he knows nothing about, such as other people’s sites.
And if it really is just sex Eduardo is looking for, Etienne isn't that hot. Eduardo is beautiful and nice and smart and a billionaire, he could probably get anyone in the world. He could definitely get anyone in California.
"Yes," Eduardo says. "Because, and I know you're aware of this, when you're dating someone, you do have to see them every once in a while. And that means I have to spend a little less time doing other things, which means I will spend less time with you. If I normally have lunch with you every day, then having a lunch date means I'll have to cancel with you. It doesn't mean anything besides that we spend most of our time together."
Mark grits his teeth.
Eduardo says, "There's nothing I can do about it. Dating someone means I won't see you as much. Eventually, so will getting the divorce, you realize that, too, right?"
Irritatingly, Eduardo actually seems to be awaiting an answer, watching Mark carefully for his response. Mark feels wound tight, but he forces himself to unclench, and he says, "Yes, I do realize that."
"And you'll be okay?" Eduardo asks, as if it's a real question and not a farce. It's not a real question. What if Mark said no? What if he said, no, he's not okay and he won't be okay, and Eduardo needs to come home immediately? And stay. The staying is the important part.
That's not an option. There's only one answer Mark can give. "Yes," he says. "It's fine."
"Mark," Eduardo says earnestly. "If you-"
"I said it's fine," Mark says sharply. He isn't in the mood for one of Eduardo's declarations of loyalty, especially when it's a blatant lie. If Eduardo were really loyal, he wouldn't have gone on a lunch date with Etienne today. He wouldn't have continued dating him at all after what he'd said about Facebook. "It doesn't matter."
Eduardo looks hurt, too hurt, for reasons Mark doesn't understand, before his face smooths blank. Mark doesn't give a shit. Eduardo's the one who's leaving. He doesn't get to be upset when Mark is only cooperating.
"I'll see you tonight," Eduardo says, and doesn't wait for a response before walking out of Mark's office.
Mark can't work after that. He's hungry, is most of the problem, but he saw Dustin skulking around earlier, and if he thinks Mark isn't absorbed, he'll attack. Mark doesn't have the energy to talk to him right now.
By mid-afternoon, his stomach has quieted again, curling up into a small, tight knot. He gets a few emails from Eduardo, just work related, and Chris sends him a schedule through his assistant that Mark ignores, and that's the closest he comes to talking to anyone the rest of the day. He leaves at five thirty, because it's late enough nobody will look at him too oddly, but he needs to get home and eat, maybe shower, and then he can try working there.
Chris catches him by the front door. He looks harried, and he actually has two cellphones, one in each hand. Mark braces himself, but Chris looks him over, glances down as if he's forgotten they're there. He shakes his head. "Not for you," he says. "Something I'm handling."
"What then?" Mark says. He yanks the strap of his bag up higher on his shoulder and thinks he really needs to get a new one. This is one of Eduardo's spares, and Mark hates briefcases and messenger bags. They're impossible to hold comfortably.
"You and Eduardo fought," Chris says.
"No, we didn't," Mark says. "Are you having Dustin spy on me again?"
"No," Chris says, "and yes, you did."
"Not about anything important," Mark says. He adds, by rote now, "I'm fine."
"I don't care if you're fine," Chris snaps. He sets the phones on the front reception desk and pulls Mark off to the side, tucking them into a corner by the front doors. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What?" Mark asks blankly.
"Eduardo is trying to date someone," Chris says. "That means-"
"That he'll spend more time with other people, yes, we covered this," Mark says testily. "I told him I'd be fine."
"Mark, shut up, this isn't about you," Chris says. "You need to think about him. He's as unsettled right now as you are. Don't take it out on him. I'd prefer you didn't take it out on anyone, but since that's a wasted wish, just leave him alone."
"If he's unsettled too, it's his fault," Mark points out. He has to hitch the bag up again, and he tugs a little too hard, frustrated.
"This isn't about whose fault this is," Chris says. "Especially since I'm not sure there is anyone at fault. I think this is good."
"No," Mark says firmly. His voice is more sharp than he intended but he can't make himself lower it. "It's not good."
"Okay, look. I thought you two were together," Chris says. "Even though I've never seen you kiss or hug or do more than fall against each other when you're drunk, and even then you both manage to keep your hands to yourselves. You know why I still thought you were a couple?"
"Because we stayed married," Mark says. Everyone has made it clear that was not a normal course of action, especially Chris.
"No, actually," Chris says. "Because the amount of dependency you two developed only made sense to me if you were actually in a relationship."
"We're not dependent on each other," Mark says, offended. The bag makes a dive for the floor.
Chris catches it for him but doesn't hand it over, holding it hostage. "You don't know how to function in public without him," Chris says. "You barely know how to dress yourself because you've never developed a system for matching the clothes you own, because you rely on Eduardo to tell you when you can't go out in public. You barely know how to do anything but run Facebook. He helps with Facebook, but mostly he helps with you. You probably couldn't function if left to your own devices right now. I'm sure you could learn, just like I'm sure if he hadn't been around you would've learned already. But you didn't, because he is. And he's a social person, Mark, but he's spent five years with little to no social life outside of us and work because he doesn't force you outside your comfort zone."
"Fuck off," Mark says tightly.
Chris's face softens. "Mark, I'm not trying to attack you. I'm just pointing out that the two of you have developed this insular little world. And it's fine. It seems to have made both of you happy for a long time. But it's not normal, and Eduardo seems to have decided he wants normal. Even if he doesn't want everything to change, I think it's understandable if he wants a normal boyfriend. He can't do that without breaking a lot of what you two have settled into, but it's just as hard for him to break away as it is for you to let him, I promise."
"I'm not letting him," Mark grumbles. It's petty.
"You are," Chris says. "For the most part. And it's-you're handling it better than I thought you would. You are letting him. I thought you'd fight so hard from the beginning, he'd give up. It wouldn't take much."
"Eduardo's stubborn," Mark protests.
"So are you," Chris retorts. "But I mean that you've got a pretty long track record of putting him in situations where there's either no choice at all or only one of the options is actually viable."
"No, I don't," Mark says. He catches himself running his thumb along the seam of his jeans pocket and makes himself stop.
"You got married because it was that or get deported," Chris says. "He's CFO still because it was either work with you as CFO or lose his best friend. He's still not speaking to his father because it was either that or divorce you, and divorcing you, as we've seen, is messing everything else up. Can you imagine if he'd tried to divorce you after the first year, or the second, and you'd taken it badly?"
"He was a finance business major: he was always going to work somewhere like this," Mark says automatically, though he knows better than anyone that Eduardo would've been able to work anywhere he wanted. He can't say anything to the rest of it, except, "I'm not controlling him."
"No," Chris says, "but you're sure as fuck influencing him."
Mark nods dumbly. One marriage certificate and Mark tied Eduardo to Facebook and to himself, and Eduardo hadn't declined because he hadn't had a choice. Mark hadn't thought-he wonders if Chris has looked at it this way all along; if Eduardo would agree with him.
"Don't take it out on him," Chris repeats, more quietly. "You're both readjusting. You're right, you will be fine. But stop being an asshole. This is hard for him, too, and the last five years have been worse for him than you. He's earned a little leniency from you, even if he screws up."
"So what?" Mark asks, a little desperate. He doesn't want to talk to Chris anymore. "What do you want me to do? I already agreed to the divorce, we're still friends, he's dating someone."
"I want you to try to be happy for him," Chris says. "And since I know that's probably a stretch, I want you to keep in mind that it was just a damn lunch date, and if you hadn't been feeling childish, you could've got food without him as soon as you knew he wasn't coming."
Chris is right: it is a stretch. Mark is not going to be happy for Eduardo while he abandons every responsibility he's acquired since he and Mark met, and Mark doesn't think that should be lauded. "Screw you," Mark mutters, and starts to push past Chris, laptop bag be damned.
"Take it," Chris says, shoving it at him. He has a frown line on his forehead, the first wrinkle he has. Mark hasn't noticed it before, but he takes a vindictive pleasure knowing he put it there. Chris fucks with their lives enough. He deserves some sort of agony from that.
---
For once he's beaten Eduardo home. He forages in the kitchen, making a sandwich and coming away with a bowl of what he's pretty sure is some type of fruit salad. It smells like too many spices, the way everything Eduardo makes does, because he insists he can cook without recipes but he actually has a pretty weak sense of taste and smell. Mark has long since gotten used to it, and while he's pretty sure he just tasted paprika on pineapple, it doesn't matter; he's always eaten anything.
Eduardo doesn't make much noise when he comes home, but Mark is listening for him, and he hears the soft snick of the door. He sets his bowl of bleeding pineapple aside and waits until he hears Eduardo go into the living room to go out to talk to him. Mark doesn't like talking in hallways. In the event it turns into an argument, Eduardo wouldn't have room to pace and move and throw himself around, all of which help him with stress relief. Talking in open rooms has generally meant an overall decrease in the amount of time Mark has to yell back at Eduardo.
Eduardo is sitting on the couch, he's always sitting on the couch - but Dustin and Chris are right, of course, Chris is always right about Eduardo; Eduardo must be bored, must be tired, must want to move along with his life. Normal people, if Mark is going to judge Eduardo as "normal" against everyone else they know, would not be content to sit on the same couch for five years when they're married and thus not actively dating.
The more he considers it, Mark starts to become impressed by Eduardo's dedication. He's always been a social creature; it's nearly unbelievable he's waited this long to want something to change.
"Mark," Eduardo says on a sigh, "I don't know what you're trying to say."
"I'm apologizing," Mark says stiffly. "I've never considered that you probably felt trapped."
"Trapped?" Eduardo says. His face is almost comical. He looks like he's trying to figure out if Mark is joking.
"You haven't had much outside of Facebook," Mark says. "We've both, for the last five years - Chris has Sean, and even Dustin has had girlfriends. I didn't think it mattered, but I haven't let you have any of that. I've sort of forced you into this."
"You haven't let me," Eduardo says, flat and loud.
Mark shrugs. He turns and leans over the couch, scooping his laptop up. Even once he's got it he stays where he is, resting his hand on the smooth leather seams of the back of the couch. "You couldn't have really said no to any of it, could you? Not without risking losing a lot more than I would've."
There's a beat of silence. Mark can hear Eduardo breathe, faster than his normal cadence, upset. Then-
"You are so fucking full of yourself," Eduardo says. He sounds incredulous.
Mark jerks up, staring at him.
"I couldn't have said no?" Eduardo parrots. "I'm not powerless, Mark. I never have been. Did you ever think maybe I lied? Maybe I made the entire thing up because you were going to take everything from me and you couldn't, once we were married. If you were busy fighting to keep me, you couldn't also push me away. It guaranteed me a place in the company, in a way ownership and employment contracts couldn't have."
There's more silence. One second, two, while Mark thinks and rearranges things in his mind and tries to-
"No," Mark says, but it comes out a little weak. "You didn't."
Eduardo looks at him for a moment, unflinching. Then he smiles softly, familiar and nearly condescending. "No," he says. "I didn't."
Mark breathes out fully, and it sounds like a sigh.
"But I could've," Eduardo says. "You see? You never checked what my citizenship status was. This could've as easily been my fault, keeping you for five years, living the same house and working together every day of the year. I may not have had a life outside you for five years, but you didn't have one outside me, either. There are two of us in this marriage, and we both agreed to it. We also both could've ended it."
It takes another long minute of watching Eduardo's unwavering smile, amusement at Mark tucked in the corner of his mouth like a dimple, for Mark to believe him fully. It's like stretching as he does, expanding his careful, curled memories into the concept that they both wanted all of this. He still has to answer, though he doesn't know how to articulate what he's feeling. Eduardo won't relent until he does. "That was impassioned," Mark says, and the sarcasm crashes into the room as easily as always.
"You're welcome," Eduardo says, amusement turning wry, "for heading that potential lifelong guilt complex off at the pass for you."
Mark smiles back. It doesn't fix anything. The fact remains that Eduardo still wants to divorce him now, regardless of how he was happy before. It should make things worse, even, because they were happy before and now they're not.
But Eduardo shakes his head and then, three minutes later, ends up yelling at Mark for eating all of his disgusting spicy pineapple, and divorce or not, Mark would classify this as pretty happy anyway.
They watch TV together, because Mark doesn't leave the living room and Eduardo uses him as a foot warmer instead of one of his blankets, sliding his legs behind Mark's back. During one of the commercials in the B-grade Scifi movie Mark chose, Eduardo asks casually, "Where'd you get that idea anyway?"
"Hm," Mark says, watching a Tide mom bemoan her children's clothes very closely.
"The idea that you ruin my life," Eduardo says. "What brought it on?"
"Nothing," Mark says, and changes the channel emphatically to a loud Die Hard movie, catching it mid-explosion.
"Yeah," Eduardo mutters. "I thought so."
He excuses himself to make a phone call, and he runs his hand over Mark's hair as he leaves the room. Mark doesn't duck out from underneath because he understands the unnecessary pseudo-apology for what it is.
"Chris," Eduardo says into his phone, before he shuts the door on the study and Mark can't hear him down the hall anymore.
Mark sighs and leans back into the couch, and he can't help but doubt slightly that Chris deserves the censure he's about to receive. He was right - not in what he said, but in what he meant. The underlying point is right. Eduardo is leaving and it's only fair to let him, and Mark needs to be happy for him.
If he isn't happy for him, he'll just be miserable, and Mark doesn't like being miserable.
Part Three