fic: the deeper you cut, the deeper i hurt (it only gets worse), part two
Eduardo’s really not that drunk.
The beer he stole from the party (stole, at Mark’s insistence, as if he has no mind of his own, as if he has to do everything Mark tells him to do) is warm at this point, yeah, but it’s not like he hasn’t had lots of beer before. He likes to think his tolerance is pretty high, especially now that he’s gone to college and experienced the party scene and even owns a fake ID so that he can drink whenever he wants. It’s not like he’s a novice, not like this is the first time he’s ever gotten drunk on a beach before.
Not that he’s drunk, because he’s not. He’s a little tipsy, maybe, but nothing more.
Mark, though - Mark is pretty drunk.
“Wardo, pass me that -” Mark pauses to cough into his arm. “That bottle, by your elbow.”
Eduardo laughs and nudges it over, watches the sand stick to it as it rolls over to Mark. “There.”
Mark smiles, expression small and weird-looking on his face, and opens the bottle with his teeth, as if his hands are too delicate to twist off a cap. It’s possible they are, since they’re extra important to the work he does, but Eduardo’s spent a lot of time looking at Mark’s hands. They’re not delicate in the slightest. His fingertips look rough, especially the pads of his pointer and index. Probably because he spends so much time popping open cans of tuna and Red Bull.
And Eduardo’s watched Mark open plenty a beer before, so he doesn’t get why Mark wouldn’t use his hands now. It’s got to be less painful than opening with your teeth, for sure.
So Eduardo asks, “Why din’t you use your hands?” after taking a long pull from his own beer and blinks down at Mark, who’s lying on the sand with his beer balanced precariously on his chest. One sudden movement and it’ll tip over, splashing Mark in the face and probably getting on Eduardo too.
Mark’s staring too intently at his bottle to answer, so Eduardo snatches it and raises his eyebrows in challenge. Mark sits up and smacks Eduardo in the arm, grunting something unintelligible and undoubtedly rude as he tries to scramble over his legs and get the beer back. Eduardo holds it as far out of reach as he can but the more Mark tries, looking and sounding obscene and ridiculous, the less successful Eduardo is. His shoulders start to hunch over in laughter and his arms are involuntarily folding in so he can grab his sides.
It’s not really too hard after that for Mark to wrangle the beer from Eduardo, who falls onto his back in hysterics. Mark crashes down on top of him, though, beer spilling everywhere. Their chests get soaked in warm alcohol and Eduardo would care more - seeing as both the ruined shirts belong to him - if he weren’t laughing so hard at the image of a deranged Mark wanting his beer back, flailing his arms around like the undead or something.
“Fuck, Wardo, that was the last one,” Mark whines, voice uncharacteristically high-pitched and maybe a little too close to Eduardo’s ear. “The last one, Eduardo, Jesus fucking Christ.”
Eduardo stops laughing because Mark’s breath puffs at the hinge of his jaw and that’s just not something Eduardo’s wired to deal with. Accidental brushes of the hand, sure. Elbow nudges, he’s been schooled on those long enough that if it was a course it’d been an A plus on his report card. Mark breathing on him? That’s way out of Eduardo’s jurisdiction.
What, exactly, should you do when the person you have a crush on is breathing on you?
Eduardo’s brain very possibly short-circuits. He can feel his nerve endings fraying before he can feel Mark sagging his weight on him, like he’s there to stay. A very sudden, very hard knot rises in Eduardo’s throat, making it impossible for him to voice his concern for this position. He may not know how to deal with Mark right now but he knows how to deal with this particular situation. He’s made out with plenty of drunken people before and each time it started with some girl throwing herself at him and whispering right in his ear.
That’s kind of what Mark’s doing, breathing on Eduardo’s skin and all that jazz. Only difference is he probably doesn’t want to make out with Eduardo, like all those girls. He’s probably just using Eduardo as a mattress or something, his face a pillow for Mark’s stupid hair.
But that doesn’t make Eduardo want Mark any less.
“You going to or what?” Mark’s saying, mouth moving sinfully slow on Eduardo’s jaw.
This is not a good situation. Eduardo shivers, clears his throat and forces himself not to focus on Mark’s wet lips when he turns his head to look at Mark, effectively disconnecting Mark’s mouth from his face. “Going to what?” he asks, raspy and shaky, as if he needs to be any more obvious.
When Mark responds, “Drive us back,” he looks at Eduardo with wide, watery eyes and Eduardo can’t stand that. He can’t stand Mark giving him so much attention, can’t stand touching him -
And yet none of that seems to matter because the next thing that he knows, he’s kissing Mark, wet and forceful, all the words he wanted to say disappearing. Mark tastes as bitter as all the beer he’s consumed tonight but Eduardo couldn’t give more of a shit, he’s so busy pushing his tongue into Mark’s mouth. He wants to kiss Mark so hard that they’ll break away tasting like each other.
Eduardo rolls them over so Mark’s the one writhing on the sand, clutching at hair and pressing his heels into calves. It’s so good, so incredible, that Eduardo only now realizes Mark is actually kissing him back. He’s fitting his mouth around Eduardo’s, sucking on Eduardo’s tongue and running his own along the back of Eduardo’s teeth. He’s leaning up on one elbow and fisting Eduardo’s hair. He’s groaning and making outrageous noises and Eduardo can barely believe this is happening.
This, them - they’re happening and it feels so fucking good.
- - -
Time catches up with them that night and they have to scramble to get back to Eduardo’s house before curfew. If Eduardo hadn’t felt drunk before he kissed Mark, he definitely feels it now - but it’s more of a giddy drunkenness than anything else. His vision’s not impaired or anything, he just feels so light and satisfied and he kind of wants to shout it out the window of his car so everyone will know. (He doesn’t, of course, because he’s not stupid and he doesn’t want to attract any police attention and he surely can’t risk embarrassing himself now that Mark’s kissed him, can he?)
When they get into the house, they’re just shy of four o’clock and Eduardo doesn’t bother tiptoeing around. From the foyer he can hear his dad snoring upstairs and it’d take a nuclear disaster to wake him from that deep a slumber. They pass through with no problems and then, without much thought, they both collapse onto Eduardo’s bed, so exhausted they don’t bother putting space between them at all.
The first thing Eduardo notices when he wakes up is that his hand is clenched in Mark’s shirt, numb because the angle cut off circulation at some point in the night. He blinks blearily at how loosely his fingers are curled around the fabric and wonders if it’s been like this all night, him pulling at Mark and unconsciously wanting him close. Heat creeps into his face when he notices the possibility of Mark having woken up to see how clingy Eduardo can get.
But Eduardo can’t seem to make himself let go, even with that realization. He finds he likes this too much, likes Mark in his bed too much, to be embarrassed by it. If Mark hadn’t responded to him as eagerly as he did, this would have been a totally different story. Eduardo would be backing away so far he’d probably land on the ground or something. But Mark had responded well. He’d arched his back and touched Eduardo’s chest and bit Eduardo’s lip - those aren’t pure intentions. Eduardo has nothing to be scared of; if Mark were going to punch Eduardo, he would’ve done it before Eduardo sucked a hickey onto his collarbone.
Eduardo’s eyes dart up to Mark’s neck at the memory of pushing his shirt out of the way. Mark had actually whimpered when Eduardo nibbled on his skin and it had made Eduardo so hot that he pulled away to catch his breath. He’d never thought Mark capable of such noises. Now, seeing the light-colored bruise low on Mark’s neck, under the distended collar of the beer-ruined Polo, Eduardo is convinced. Debauched, his new favorite brand of Mark.
Sighing quietly, he slides his hand up Mark’s side, fabric bunching underneath his palm. He just wants to lie here, feeling Mark breathe, watching him sleep like he’s never really had the chance to in the past. There are so many good things that can come of this, if Mark will let this happen. Eduardo’s willing - he’s more than willing, even, he’s anticipating. Mark couldn’t possibly backtrack on last night; he couldn’t possibly deny the obvious attraction between them. Eduardo’s been trying all week and has failed. Sure, Mark’s a genius, but he’s not a miracle worker. It wouldn’t be fair for him to be able to easily dismiss all those kisses and all those - stupid as it sounds - caresses.
Then again, if anyone could do it, Mark could. That would probably be the world’s cruelest joke but Eduardo couldn’t say he never saw it coming.
He’ll just have to wait for Mark to wake up, then.
Again, Eduardo sighs, only this time it’s less wistful and more weary, like he’s already conceded to losing something he doesn’t have. A tragedy before it’s even begun.
A knock on the door shakes him out of his thoughts and he scrambles to get to his feet, putting as much distance between him and Mark as possible before whoever’s at the door can start speculating. He gets to the door before anyone can open it, though, and he fits himself in the crack so no one can see inside. He doesn’t need his parents knowing anything about this.
“Mae,” he says in greeting. If he’s a bit breathless, he ignores it.
His mom gives him a suspicious look, probably because he’s still wearing the beer-stained shirt from last night. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Eduardo?”
He says, “No,” and it’s true because he hadn’t bothered to spare his alarm clock a single glance the entire time he’s been awake. Being too caught up in Mark has proven to have adverse effects on his common sense.
“Almost three,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Did you forget the Liras are coming over for dinner this evening?”
Eduardo presses a hand to his forehead, the one that’s not holding the door close to his body, and closes his eyes. “Oh, man, I -”
“It’s at six. You need to get ready.”
“Yeah, no, right, I’m sorry.”
“Did you have a good night?”
He swallows to keep himself from smiling. He’s sure if he let a grin onto his face his mother would be able to see right through him. “Yes, I did,” he says slowly, words measured so that he won’t give too much away.
She doesn’t seem convinced but she doesn’t press for anything more. She just tells him, “You might want to make sure Mark’s up too,” looks pointedly over his head and then leaves.
Biting his lip, Eduardo slumps against the closed door and tips his head back, pinches his eyes closed against the sun that’s filtering in through the blinds. The breath he exhales is so long that he’s not sure how he doesn’t just collapse from lack of oxygen.
“Are you going to stand there the rest of the day or . . . ?”
Eduardo startles and looks over at Mark, who’s sitting up with a hand scratching his head. His cheek is pink from where it was pressed against the pillow all night, his eyes a little puffy, and Eduardo would jump him now if he didn’t think it’d be exceptionally inappropriate.
“Didn’t, uh, mean to wake you,” Eduardo coughs, curling his toes, nails scraping over the carpet.
“Actually, your mom did.” Mark yawns and the sound his jaw makes when it pops is loud enough to make Eduardo cringe. “They’re hosting a dinner?”
Nodding and mumbling, “Yeah, yeah,” Eduardo stares pointedly down at the floor. Maybe Mark won’t notice the red seeping into his skin tone this way.
“I should go shower then.”
He swallows hard and nods some more, acutely aware of how dumb he looks but also distinctly indifferent about it. So many conflicting ideas in his mind - there’s only so much Eduardo can do, and it’s what he’s doing now, acting as awkward as he can be.
“Right,” he hears Mark say, and then he hears the bed springs squeak and the unmistakable padding of footsteps muffled by carpet. He looks up just as Mark stops a few inches away from him, telling Eduardo to get out of the way with his eyes.
Chest tightening, Eduardo wraps one hand tightly around the doorknob and gives Mark yet another nod. “We’ll talk later, then.”
Mark doesn’t acknowledge him with anything more than a muttered, “Yeah, sure,” before he’s out the door, Eduardo frozen holding it open for him.
- - -
Dinner’s a really civil thing, if anything maybe just a little too formal. Mark’s wearing a sweater vest over a white dress shirt and a nicer pair of jeans than usual and Eduardo’s in his customary slacks get-up, hair finally clean of all sand and syrup that worked its way in when he was too concerned with Mark’s mouth to care much about what havoc was being wrought on his head. They exchange small smiles, barely there upward twitches of the mouth, over their plates, and that’s it.
Eduardo can barely focus on his food the entire evening, way too distracted by what could happen when everyone’s gone, when it’ll just be Mark and Eduardo, faced with endless possibilities. He misses some of his father’s cues to enter the conversation and accidentally angers him when he doesn’t throw all his attention onto the Liras’ daughter Marina, but he can’t really help himself when he’s so convinced that this is actually it. Mark has acknowledged it, it’s not just in Eduardo’s head anymore, and there’s really no room for anything else.
He’s thinking like a love struck teenager yet he’s not bothered by it in the slightest.
After dinner, Marina tells him that he’s a really nice guy and that whoever has him - “Or gets you?” she adds unsurely, the cutest little twinkle in her eyes - is lucky. So even with halfhearted conversation, Eduardo was able to charm her and get her to see that he’s smitten with someone else and she’s not even upset about it. She’s gracious and funny and then she’s out the door, trailing her parents into the driveway.
But of course he’s wrong to think he’ll get away with it. Just as he’s turning to go help his mom in the kitchen, where he hears Mark entertaining small talk and possibly doing dishes, his dad stops him with a tight grip on his shoulder and asks, glaring down at him, “What’s wrong with you?”
Eduardo swallows, confused. “Wh - what are you - there’s nothing wrong with -”
“You didn’t ask her out on a date,” his father elaborates, stern and unflagging, like he refuses to be otherwise swayed. Most of the time, Eduardo would try to sweet talk him down off that stupid, condescending ledge he’s constantly perched on, but right now he’s kind of stumped. Yes, he’s aware that this whole dinner was an attempt to get Eduardo attached to Marina but he didn’t think his father would be that upset if things didn’t work out. This has happened before, too many times to count. Eduardo’s never taken particular likings to any of the girls his dad has attempted to set him up with and usually he can get himself off the hook by fabricating something he didn’t like about her that he knows his dad wouldn’t like either. Right now, though, his dad seems too intent on blaming Eduardo.
“I didn’t like -”
“Bullshit, Eduardo.” Glaring, his father takes his hand off Eduardo’s shoulder and pokes him in the chest, right above his breast pocket. “There was nothing wrong with her. You were just too much of a coward to do something.”
Eduardo huffs and rubs his hand over the spot that was jabbed with a meaty finger. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t like her that way.”
“Why not?”
He narrows his eyes. “Because I don’t, Dad. She’s not my type.”
“No?” His father barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “What’s your type then, Eduardo? American? Blond hair, blue eyes? Eduardo, you know that -”
“That’s not it at all, Dad.” Eduardo groans and throws his hands up in the air, already pacing around. “I just don’t want you to set -”
“If I don’t set you up, you’re not going to find the right suitor for -”
Scoffing, “The right suitor?” Eduardo turns sharply on his heel and points a glare at his father. “I don’t need a suitor. I don’t need anyone you want for me because I am perfectly capable of finding someone on my own.”
His father rolls his eyes. “You’re way behind in that department. You’re clearly never going to find the right person to carry the name -”
“Dad!” This conversation is bordering on crazy and pointless. “I don’t want you attempting to set me up with anyone anymore, ok? I can do it on my own.”
“If you could do it on your own, you would’ve brought someone home a long time ago, Eduardo.”
“I’m twenty years old! I haven’t found anyone I’d want to spend my life with yet!”
Clucking his tongue, his father says, “Eduardo, Eduardo,” like he’s trying to soothe a baby, and slips a hand back onto Eduardo’s shoulder. Eduardo glares at it, at the arthritis-crooked fingers, and wonders how much longer he’ll have to deal with his father’s unfailing lack of confidence in him, how much more he’ll have to do to show him that he’s not as idiotic as he seems to think he is. “When I was your age, I already knew exactly where my life was headed. I had a fiancé, I had a career, I had stability. You don’t have any of those things.”
“That’s because times have changed, Dad. I’m still in college,” mutters Eduardo through clenched teeth.
“You’re going to call Marina,” his father continues, as if Eduardo hadn’t said anything at all. His eyes are locked on Eduardo’s but it’s like he’s looking right through him. “You’re going to ask her on a date and then you’re going to be her boyfriend. Are we clear on that?”
Eduardo clenches his jaw and glares. “I’m not going out with her. If you try to make me, it’ll only backfire on you, so you really don’t want me calling her.”
The shock on his father’s face is worth the hard push in the chest, even if it knocks the wind out of him. “Go to your room,” he’s told, and he doesn’t spare a glance back as he climbs up the stairs.
- - -
Mark walks in around ten, face completely shuttered but fingers knotted together, belying his steeliness. It’s clear he wants to ask what’s going on, Eduardo can feel the question on the tip of his own tongue, but he doesn’t think he has the right to tread that ground. Eduardo’s touched he even wants to know.
“Hey,” Eduardo offers from his place on his bed. He sets aside his book and pulls himself up so he’s sitting against the headboard.
Mark’s still hovering by the door when he returns the greeting. He’s not wearing his nicer clothes anymore, back in his shorts and t-shirt.
“Are you just going to stand there?” Amused, Eduardo pats the empty space beside him with his foot.
“I heard what you said to your father,” Mark blurts, fast and clipped, like he didn’t want to say anything in the first place.
Eduardo raises his eyebrows. “Ok?”
“And,” he continues, looking at Eduardo only for a second before he goes back to shuffling his feet on the carpet. “I thought you were going to give in.”
“I’m kind of done appeasing him, actually. I wish he would just see that and leave me alone.”
“Right, but he never will.”
“Mark, what is this about?”
At least that gets Mark’s attention but Eduardo squirms under his gaze. It’s gentle and intense and warm and cold all at the same time. “You really didn’t like that girl?”
“Marina?” Eduardo shakes his head. “I’m not even going to be here to be her boyfriend. It was a ridiculous idea. I don’t know how he even thought I’d start a relationship with someone who will be thousands of miles away in a few weeks.”
Mark seems placated by that, if the way his shoulders relax is any indication, and he softens his gaze a bit, drops it off to the side while he talks. “She didn’t seem like your type anyway.”
It’s not stupid to feel like his chest is going to collapse - it’s practical. He’s been feeling so many things lately, been receiving so many different cues from Mark all weekend, that it makes sense for him to be so stricken by Mark in this moment. Mark, always pretty steady in his actions, perturbed by something.
Cheesy as it is, Eduardo really, truly hopes he’s that something.
“What’s my type then, Mark?” he ends up asking, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and chewing on it.
And Mark looks at him again, wavering a little this time, and Mark says, “I’m not sure but I know it’s not Brazilian brunette. I don’t think that’s exotic enough for you,” which draws a guffaw from Eduardo. “I wasn’t kidding, though.”
Smiling, Eduardo gets to his feet and approaches Mark, who takes a step back and turns pink, probably embarrassed he let Eduardo catch him so unsure of himself. God, if Eduardo could just bottle this moment forever, he would.
“Stop,” he says quietly, grabbing for Mark’s wrist with one hand. Mark tries to hide it behind his back but Eduardo just reaches around and pulls it out, gentle as he’s ever been. “I don’t want that girl, Mark.” He swallows hard and watches himself lace his fingers with Mark’s one by one. They’re both shaking but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I don’t want any girl, actually.”
Mark rasps, “Well, yes, you’ve made that quite clear,” and then shakes his head at himself in distaste, as if he hadn’t really meant to say that at all. Which is ridiculous, because Eduardo’s always wanted to hear what Mark has to say.
So Eduardo whispers, “Didn’t think I’d made it clear enough,” and, after wrapping his free hand around Mark’s hip and pulling him in, he leans down to kiss him. This time, it’s everything their other ones weren’t - slow, cautious, partly and reluctantly appetent, fearful that if they push it any further it’ll break. It doesn’t make sense for a kiss like this to leave them both breathless but when Eduardo leans away from Mark’s lips, he can’t make his lungs expand fast enough to capture air, and Mark can’t either because he’s panting too.
“Wardo,” he says, and he sounds so wrecked that Eduardo just can’t hear it anymore without having his heart break.
“Mark,” he says in kind, and then he takes Mark’s face in both his hands and kisses him harder than he’s ever kissed anyone before. Mark wraps his fingers loosely around Eduardo’s wrists and he’s right there with him, leaving all that reluctance stuff behind and slipping in tongue like he’s actually got purpose.
The rest of it is a blur of a flipped lock, kicked off pillows and choked sounds.
2 | the steps I took to get to look into your deepest feelings
Things are a lot better at Harvard than in Miami. They don’t have to worry about his parents walking in the front door when they’re stretched on top of each other on the couch or being quiet when they’re locked in his room, which is inconveniently located two doors down from his parents’. Sure, they have to calm it down whenever they’re in the presence of Chris and Dustin but it’s not like they’re constantly touching to begin with. Eduardo really likes kissing Mark whenever he wants but he understands he can’t just do that all the time.
He’s not even sure if Mark wants to get really involved, like in a relationship, or if he just wants to be friends with benefits or whatever.
They both have other things to do anyway. Eduardo has to campaign for his presidency in the Investment Association and it’s no easy task. Economics and business-minded people are a lot more difficult to win over than the general student population, which is what he catered to in high school. It’s even harder when there are a few Machiavellians that keep trying to cut him down whenever he makes a speech, trying to make him look worse than the competition.
That project Mark was working on in Miami, one he’s calling Course Match, is just about finished too. He’s busy getting the servers and making sure they’re running so that the site won’t crash before the Add deadline. It’s a pretty ingenious idea.
By mid-September, once things have winded down for the both of them, Eduardo’s more comfortable with Mark than he’s ever been with anyone. He’d thought the same thing last year, sure, but it’s different now. They haven’t had actual sex yet but Eduardo’s pretty sure he’s got Mark down to a T. He spends way too much time studying him not to.
Somewhere along the way, though, Eduardo misses a step. Something keeps him from noticing one very important detail: Somehow, in the midst of everything, Mark has managed to find a girlfriend.
- - -
He finds out about Erica on the first Friday night in October, four days after he’d last seen Mark.
As soon as Mark’s through the door, Eduardo pulls him by the front of his hoodie onto the bed, wasting no time in starting this night off on the right foot. Mark actually laughs into Eduardo’s mouth as he kneels between Eduardo’s knees and Eduardo can’t believe he’s gone without this all week. Granted, the hiatus is his entire fault, the first round of tests catching him by surprise and causing him to live through endless cram sessions in order to get through all the reading he’d been pushing aside. But he’s missed Mark all the same. After a month of near-constant togetherness, it’s hard to spend a few days apart.
“You did well on your tests, then,” Mark breaks away to say, that sly smirk quirking his lips as he nudges Eduardo’s cheek with his nose and rolls off to the side.
“Well, yeah, I hope so.” Frowning, Eduardo props himself up on one elbow and looks down at Mark, who’s got bruised lips and flushed cheeks. That might be a sheen of sweat at his hairline if the light isn’t playing tricks on Eduardo’s eyes. “Why’d you stop?”
Mark shrugs and casts his glance away from Eduardo, shakes his head.
This can’t be good, he thinks. Nothing good ever follows aversion. When he asks, “What is it?” he swears to himself that it’s not because he’s a masochist; he’s just concerned.
A long ten seconds pass before Mark finally looks Eduardo in the eye again, steady as always, like he’s got Eduardo cornered instead of being cornered by Eduardo. He says, “I’ve been seeing a girl,” and yeah, ok, now Eduardo can see why Mark’s gaze is so unwavering. “I met her last week at the bar.”
Blinking, Eduardo shifts around until he’s sitting Indian style on the bed, ankles crossed over each other, fingers curled tightly around the knobs of his knees. He takes a deep breath that whistles through his teeth and tells himself that no, Mark has not been cheating on him. “And you decided now would be a good time to tell me?” he asks calmly, refusing to look at Mark because he still looks disheveled and Eduardo obviously did that to him. But Mark tasted like beer and cherry lip balm and Eduardo knows for a fact that Mark doesn’t care about lip moisturizers.
“I was going to tell you last weekend but you said you had tests to study for and I didn’t want to get in the way.”
Hissing, “Oh, yeah, that’s rich. Choose now to be considerate,” Eduardo looks up and glares at Mark, who’s sitting up now too, brow drawn, lips pursed.
“Fuck you, Wardo, at least I told you.”
“Yeah, you get so many brownie points for that, Mark.” Eduardo rolls his eyes and stands up. For all he wanted to be close to Mark tonight, he doesn’t even want to be near him anymore. This ridiculous sense of betrayal is wedging itself into his chest, making it kind of hard to breathe, and sitting next to Mark is just making it worse. He grabs the back of his desk chair to steady himself and draws another deep breath.
Mark huffs somewhere behind him, “We’re not together, you know.”
It’s possible Mark could be referring to his new girlfriend but Eduardo knows way better than that. Mark wouldn’t have brought her up if he weren’t actively dating her and he wouldn’t have said what he just said if he thought he and Eduardo were in any kind of relationship. Clearly, he sees being with Eduardo as nothing more than a way to blow off steam and, well, that’s just great. “I’m aware of that, Mark,” he says sharply, talking to the desk because looking over his shoulder would mean watching Mark’s reaction. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it.
“Then why are you reacting like that? It shouldn’t matter so much.”
He mumbles to himself, “Of course it doesn’t matter to you,” and then turns around. “Whatever, ok? If it doesn’t matter then it’s ok you have a girlfr -”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You clearly do. But, hey, it’s ok because it doesn’t matter and we don’t have to keep up this - this whatever that we are.”
“Wardo, I didn’t mean -”
“I’m not helping you cheat on this girl, Mark,” Eduardo says exasperatedly, throwing his hands up like he does when he talks to his father. Things can change way too quickly in five minutes.
“Her name is Erica.”
“That’s just great. Fucking fantastic.” Shaking his head, Eduardo goes to his door and tries to yank it open, not remembering he’d locked it. When it’s successfully unlocked, he holds the door open for Mark and gestures extravagantly for him to leave.
Mark looks at him like he’s grown two heads but gets up anyway. “You’re being unreasonable,” is the last thing he says and then Eduardo slams the door.
He goes to bed that night thinking not of Mark betraying him but of how similar his name is to Erica’s.
- - -
Because he feels like a jerk (and because he’s a much better friend to Mark than Mark will probably ever be to him), Eduardo goes to Kirkland the next afternoon and tells Mark he’s happy for him.
“What?” Mark looks surprised with the end of a dart in his mouth shaking up and down.
Eduardo actually laughs because he can’t ever stay mad at Mark for long. He’s too unintentionally funny. “I just -” Shrugging, Eduardo sits on the edge of Mark’s still unmade bed (he remembers Mark saying I will never make my bed on weekends, Wardo, deal with it when they first got back). “I acted immaturely. You deserve to have someone who will make you happy.”
It doesn’t seem like Mark understands that logic; the crease between his eyebrows tells Eduardo as much. “Ok,” he says slowly, swiveling around in his chair and then turning back to his computer after a moment’s consideration of Eduardo’s face. “Thanks, I guess.”
Eduardo nods down at the bed, sighs quietly when he realizes he won’t be sleeping in those sheets for a while, and then forces himself to brush it off. There’s no reason for this to hurt.
- - -
But after a week, Eduardo meets Erica and it hurts a hell of a whole lot more than he’d expected it to. It’s because Mark’s actually smiling and taking her hand and getting her a new beer and being his usual self but in a less caustic way. They - including Chris and Dustin - are all sitting in the common room, alternating between movies and Nintendo and beer pong, and Eduardo really shouldn’t feel alone but he does.
Just the way Mark looks at Erica, like he’s surprised that he’s happy to have her around, ties Eduardo’s stomach into knots. He doesn’t think Mark’s ever looked at him like that- but, then, he and Mark were never together and it shouldn’t matter.
It does, though. It matters to Eduardo very much and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t want Erica to last long. He wants her to figure out how much of an asshole Mark can be and then kick him onto the curb. He wants her to see Mark when he’s too busy with his computer to spare her a moment of his precious time. He wants her to see the real Mark, the one who judges people before properly meeting them, and he wants her to hear Mark when he’s on one of his spiels about his classmates so that she can see that he’s not nearly as charming as she thinks.
He wants her to know that Mark’s willing to do things with guys because she doesn’t seem like the type of girl who’d like to date someone who’s also been with the opposite sex.
Then he feels bad about thinking all of those things because Mark doesn’t deserve that, not in the slightest. Eduardo doesn’t really even believe that Mark’s a bad guy. Everyone has their moments when they’re less than saintly and Mark’s just like everyone else. Only thing is that Mark’s a little cocky about his intelligence - but so what? Anyone who made a perfect score on his SAT has the right to brag a little. And it’s not like Mark’s never done anything to show his brilliance; Course Match is just one of many examples.
What makes it worse is that Mark can actually be really sweet. Maybe not so much with words but his actions speak volumes. He’s being sweet now, attending to Erica just like a good boyfriend should, and he’s been sweet with Eduardo too, drooling on his chest and ending phone conversations with goodbyes and not clicks.
It’s only fair that Eduardo give Erica a chance because she’s so nice and pretty and not at all as incompetent as he’d maybe hoped for her to be. And she likes Mark too, which is probably a first for any girl in Boston and definitely a plus.
The only thing he resents her for is taking Mark from him - and not in the sense that she’s sleeping with him (there’s no mistaking the signs of sex, even with Mark) but just that she’s using up all his free time. Eduardo used to be able to come into Mark’s room and do homework while he typed on his computer, the steady click of keys on the keyboard a welcome background noise. Now, Mark’s barely ever in his room whenever Eduardo wants to come over. He’s either avoiding him, which is pretty unlikely, or he’s really always at Erica’s dorm like Dustin and Chris say.
It turns out he can’t concentrate very well without some kind of similar background noise, so he takes to camping out in Widener near the reference desk where the librarian is always clicking or typing away, hard at work on something research-related like any good Harvard employee. It’s soothing in the way that Mark’s absence isn’t. Because, for as much as Eduardo tries not to feel abandoned, there’s a gaping, Mark-sized hole in his life that he can’t fill with anything and he’s just trying to figure out what things were like before he and Mark ever decided it was a good idea to start kissing each other and getting off together. (Not that he’s complaining about that side of their friendship; he just misses it too much.)
When Mark is in his room at the same time as Eduardo, he’s either too busy with school or updating Course Match to pay him much mind or he’s brought over Erica. There’s never enough time for Eduardo and Mark to just talk or work like they used to and that’s like a sucker punch to the gut. It’s what he misses most of all, just being in Mark’s presence.
Almost all of October passes without Eduardo and Mark ever being alone in the same room together.
- - -
At the end of the month, Eduardo slips into his desk chair around two in the morning after a really long study group session and an Investment Society mixer and finds in his email that Mark has updated his blog, something he hasn’t done since the previous school year had ended. (No, Eduardo did not start tracking Mark’s blog over the summer to see what he was up to, that’s ridiculous.)
He drops his jaw when he reads the first line of Mark’s entry and it’s silly, yeah, but he really is legitimately surprised. He’d thought Mark and Erica were getting along fine, that Mark had actually found someone he could tolerate long enough to keep around for a few months, at least, maybe even a few years. She had to be something if she was replacing Eduardo, right?
But now he’s reading “Erica Albright is a bitch” over and over, like it’s the only line on the page, and thinking, kind of regretfully, maybe this is my chance to get it right. He shouldn’t be happy about the breakup, especially not if Mark’s very clearly devastated about it, but this is what he’s waited for all month, really. He misses Mark, he really does, and if a breakup is the only thing that will bring him back into Eduardo’s life, in whatever capacity, then he’s going to be selfishly happy that it’s finally happened.
He doesn’t read anything else in the email, just shuts off his laptop, grabs his jacket and leaves.
The sooner he can get back in, the better.
- - -
And so it turns out that Mark doesn’t want anything from Eduardo but his algorithm to rank chess players so he can finish a stupid site that’s pretty much hotornot.com with female Harvard undergrads and without the ads. He feels bad condoning the site’s launch, providing the last ingredient, but it’s still Mark, his best friend, and Eduardo helps him so constantly it’s like a hobby.
He’ll pretty much do anything just to have Mark’s company again, even if all he ends up doing is watching Mark watch the site’s traffic. He’s kind of pathetic like that but that’s just what Mark does to him.
- - -
At four, the network crashes and Eduardo jumps up from Mark’s bed to start pacing around nervously, pulling his hands through his hair. Mark’s nonchalant about the whole thing but Eduardo can’t just pretend nothing’s wrong.
“Don’t you know you’re going to face some serious consequences?” He’s stopped moving for the moment, just so he can spin Mark’s chair around and get him to look at him straight in the eye. “You can get expelled, Mark!”
Mark rolls his eyes and shrugs off Eduardo’s hand. “For what? Making a site that’s too popular?” He scoffs. “I’m pretty sure this type of thing has happened before. They won’t expel me for misjudging the amount of server space I needed.”
“Not for the fucking crash, Mark!” Groaning, Eduardo takes a few steps back and holds up his hands. “You stole from Harvard. Don’t you see that?”
“I didn’t steal from Ha-”
“Mark, the pictures!” He gestures wildly at the blackened computer screen. “Those don’t belong to you!”
That seems to hit Mark, at least, which is more than Eduardo could ever have wished for. This oh shit expression takes over his face, turning his smug, self-satisfied smirk into a frown and screwing his eyebrows into one long, down-pointed line of hair. It kind of just makes him look angry, really, but at least there’s some remorse there, more than there was when he thought the only thing he’d done wrong was cause the network to crash.
Just when Eduardo starts to feel bad for him, though, Mark’s face goes blank again and he says, “I didn’t make any money off running the pictures, Wardo.”
Eduardo huffs, cheeks puffing out and everything. He doesn’t kick Mark because someone up there is looking out for Mark’s wellbeing and makes Eduardo kick the base of the wall instead. Dustin and Chris, who up until now were discussing something secretively on the couch, both give Eduardo a look that screams you’re a dumb fuck and now you’re going to need ice for a broken toe. Eduardo glares at them, points at his foot and says, “Didn’t break it, guys, thank you,” then turns back to Mark and points at him instead.
“You still used them without permission. People sue for that kind of shit all the time.”
“Look, if it’s copyright law we’re getting into -”
“No, Mark, look.” Eduardo crosses the space between them and bends down to Mark’s level, hands gripping his shoulders so that he can somehow get him to pay attention. Mark’s not looking at him directly but he’s not exactly ignoring him either, at least. “You hacked Harvard’s network. You stripped it of its images and you redistributed them. It’s not just copyright - it’s security we’re dealing with.”
“We’re not dealing with anything, Eduardo -”
“For God’s sake!” Groaning, Eduardo pushes Mark back and stands up straight again. When he starts pulling his hair again, he tries not to think about what he’ll look like by the end of his Harvard career if he ends up having to deal with Mark’s stupidity the rest of the time and focuses instead on how he can make Mark see that he’s wrong. “You’re going to get investigated, Mark. You’re going to need to work on a story so that they won’t expel you and you’re going to have to apologize.”
Mark scowls at him. “I don’t think I’ll have to apologize to anyone.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious I’ve pointed out some gaping holes in their system.”
Eyebrows raised, Eduardo tilts his head to the side and looks at Mark. Maybe if he stares long enough, Mark’s logic will transfer itself into Eduardo’s mind and stop giving him such a headache. “I . . . What?”
“If it was that easy to hack into the facebooks, how easy must it be to hack into our own personal accounts? People complain about identity theft all the time but not even at Harvard is there a secure enough system to protect its students and faculty. At least I didn’t do this with the intent to ruin anyone.” (Eduardo rolls his eyes at that, mutters oh please and sits on the edge of Mark’s bed.) “Wardo, that could be the story.”
He shakes his head. “You blogged the entire time, Mark. They know why you did all of this and how you did it.”
“Right, but they can’t deny that what I did proves how flawed their system is. If they expel me for this, it’ll only look bad on them.”
Sighing, Eduardo scratches the back of his head and closes his eyes. More of this is making sense than he had expected. “All right, fine. You’re still going to face some serious consequences, Mark.”
Mark flashes him the quickest of smiles and shrugs. “It was worth it.”
- - -
Maybe six months of probation really is worth all the attention Mark gets after Face Mash but Eduardo doesn’t really see it. Mark tries to get him to understand, tells him that before Face Mash, people didn’t know who he was. Course Match didn’t exactly get him the attention he’d wanted, not really; it was covered somewhat thoroughly maybe once in The Crimson and then shoved to the back of the paper for less than two hundred word follow-ups.
But Face Mash actually made Mark the center of attention - and that’s exactly what he’d wanted.
“We were talking about the Final Clubs before, remember?”
Eduardo rolls his head along the back of the couch so he can look at Mark, who’s got his feet kicked up on the coffee table and his eyes trained on the TV. It’s like he’s talking to no one. “What?”
“Final Clubs. Face Mash. Keep up.”
He sighs and pushes himself into a straighter position so that he’s barely leaning back anymore. “What, you think the Porc will notice you for invading people’s privacy?”
Mark looks over at him and narrows his eyes. “I didn’t invade anyone’s privacy.”
“Right, sure. So you think making a name for yourself by pretty much insulting the entire female undergrad population will endear you to a Final Club?”
He nods. “I don’t see why not.”
Eduardo grabs the nearest pillow and chucks it at Mark’s face. He would’ve kissed him if they had talked about their - their fling or whatever but Mark’s been avoiding relationship talk of any sort since the night Erica broke up with him. So all he can do is say, “Shut up and watch the movie,” and turn back to the TV so that he won’t start fantasizing.
- - -
The night Eduardo learns he’s been punched by the Phoenix S.K. Club doesn’t start out on a very exciting note but after a few cups of spiked punch at AEPi’s Caribbean Night, things get way more interesting.
Maybe Mark does belittle Eduardo’s good news with the whole it’s just a diversity thing and maybe Mark does drag an underdressed Eduardo into the cold to tell him about his new project, but at least he doesn’t step all over him and tell him he doesn’t deserve it. It’s the only good thing Eduardo can pull out of the conversation to keep himself from getting too upset about Mark’s lack of congratulations.
Oh, yeah, and there’s also the very important fact that he’s about to become the CFO of a website, which - Well, if anything’s going to make his father proud and make him stop thinking of Eduardo as an incompetent fool, it’s being the business head of a company. Since not even making three hundred thousand dollars over the summer was enough to please him, this one thousand dollar investment has to take the cake.
He would’ve appreciated some support from Mark, though. A simple yeah, that’s good would’ve been better than the you got punched by the Phoenix line he got, especially since Mark had sounded as unpleasantly surprised as he ever allows himself to sound. But with Mark, Eduardo always has to take whatever he can get. It’s never easy to push for more.
Three cups of punch later, something gets it into Eduardo’s head that he can at least try to get more from Mark. There’s really nothing stopping him from asking Mark why he wasn’t excited for him. Or why he doesn’t want to talk about Erica. Or why he hasn’t tried to kiss Eduardo any of the numerous times Eduardo made it plenty obvious that it’s what he wants.
He can’t just keep waiting for Mark. He’d probably end up waiting forever.
So he leaves Dustin and Chris talking to the Asian girls who’d been eyeing them earlier and makes the fastest trek he can manage to Kirkland without running into anything or tripping over himself. Mark’s door is unlocked and Eduardo can see Mark hunched over his desk from the entrance. He doesn’t even look up when Eduardo makes a big deal of locking the door.
“Mark?” he tries, unwinding his scarf and dumping it on top of the couch.
Mark just grunts, but it’s more than Eduardo expected.
“Can I ask you something?” He sets his coat over his scarf and walks further into the suite. His fingertips are tingling, his legs are shaking and he’s pretty sure it’s not because he just walked across campus in twenty degree weather not wearing long pants. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with nerves and his anticipation of how Mark will react to what he’s about to say.
Mark still hasn’t looked up. He does say, “What is it?” though.
That’s more than enough to push Eduardo all the way into Mark’s room and apparently enough to get him to close Mark’s door, which surprises him because he hadn’t planned this on his walk at all. Then Mark turns his face up and Eduardo can’t stop himself from surging forward and kissing him. He curls his fingers around Mark’s skull and crushes their mouths together, harder and more fervent than he would’ve liked their first kiss in a month and a half to be.
It’s all good, though. A lot better than nothing. Mark’s obviously caught off guard and Eduardo’s maybe the tiniest bit intoxicated (it’s not like the punch was spiked really well) but the kiss is better than anything he could have imagined. He slips his tongue along Mark’s bottom lip, sinks his teeth down into the tender flesh. Mark’s hands come up to grab Eduardo’s waist and they somehow end up rolling backward in the chair without falling all over each other on the floor.
Eduardo’s straddling Mark, tearing his hands through Mark’s hair, pressing himself as close as he can get. The front of his pants rubs against Mark’s stomach and they groan into each other’s mouths, Mark eventually pulling away and muttering, “Get this off,” as his fingers stumble over the buttons of Eduardo’s Hawaiian print shirt.
Clearly Eduardo has been wrong all along.
He thinks about how much time they wasted, how many circles they ran around each other trying not to step on any toes, and it makes him dizzy. Because here he is, getting undressed with Mark in mid-November, and he could’ve probably been naked hours ago if they hadn’t both been so oblivious to each other. After this summer, he’d thought they’d gotten over missing each other’s cues but it’s painfully apparent how wrong he was.
Now he and Mark are stumbling over to Mark’s bed, stripped down to their boxers, and Eduardo’s heart is pounding so fast and so hard that he’s pretty sure Mark can hear it. It feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest.
“Wardo, for fuck’s sake,” Mark groans when Eduardo puts his knee between Mark’s legs and presses it up to his crotch. He rolls his forehead over Mark’s collarbone and pants onto his neck. Goose bumps rise on Mark’s skin as he trails his fingers up the inside of Mark’s arm. “Fuck.”
Smiling, he slips his hand between their bodies, arching up so there’s more space, and wastes no time in taking Mark’s cock in his hand. The hard, familiar weight of it makes Eduardo’s head spin. He missed this, missed having Mark at his mercy, but most of all missed being able to touch. For him, there’s never been anything like this. There’s never been anything like feeling Mark breathing under him, his chest expanding, his stomach rising. There’s never been anything like Mark whispering Eduardo’s name, chanting it when things get to be too much.
Eduardo wants this, all of it, so much that it hurts. And now that he has it back, he wants nothing more than to get everything else.
So when he gets Mark to the point where he’s thrusting into Eduardo’s palm, scratching one hand down Eduardo’s back, Eduardo leans in close. He kisses him and tugs his bottom lip out with his teeth and then whispers into Mark’s ear, his eyes screwed tightly shut, “I want to fuck you.”
Mark actually stills and yanks his head away. Eduardo can feel him trembling and he doesn’t let go. “You want to - like actually have - with me?” he pants brokenly, making almost no sense.
Eduardo knows him well enough, though, and he can fill in the blanks and extract the underlying fear in his words. God, he feels so helpless, watching Mark’s face redden and his eyes dart around so they won’t stop on Eduardo’s. There is no way Eduardo could ever get out of this thing he has with Mark without feeling something very deeply for him.
Whispering, “Yes, I do,” he nods and kisses Mark, eyes open so he can see how Mark reacts to him. It’s like a flash went off in his eyes or something, he’s blinking so fast - and it’s then that Eduardo notices, right before he starts kissing back, that Mark’s eyes are red.
- - -
After that night, they have sex a lot.
Neither of them has ever been with a guy before so it’s interesting. They have to figure out what their best position is and what lube doesn’t make Mark’s hands dry out. They have to find which condoms don’t break easily and if it hurts to push too fast. They get drunk one night and Eduardo’s fingering Mark while they’re making out on the couch when he discovers that if he starts with two fingers, it’s actually easier to open Mark up.
They’re learning on the fly and it couldn’t be better.
Mark’s work on the Winklevoss’ dating site and his own site gets in the way sometimes, sure, and so does Eduardo’s school work and Phoenix parties, but they make it work. Mark’s especially hard to pull away from the computer after one of the Phoenix activities but the point is they’re working. There’s no more of that missing cues thing or that hesitance thing.
It’s just them and they’re having fun and there are no labels and Eduardo couldn’t ask for anything more.
- - -
The Phoenix accepts Eduardo late in the first semester and Mark doesn’t really say anything about it.
Even as Eduardo explains the new tie he’s going to get - all black, little white birds dotting it - Mark’s not paying attention. He’s just typing, fingers tapping the keyboard smoothly, without a single moment of hesitation. There’s nothing Eduardo can say to break Mark out of his godforsaken routine - and he’s tried all the tricks he’s learned recently.
“Do you even care?” Eduardo asks pointlessly, setting a half-finished beer on Mark’s nightstand and gathering his things. The whole minute he spends packing his backpack, the only response he gets is a more rapid patter of keys. He doesn’t need any more signs from Mark telling him he doesn’t care.
Muttering, “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he brushes past Mark’s desk and walks quickly out of the room, head bowed as he ducks out of the suite and out of the way of a confused Dustin. His feet can’t carry him fast enough back to Eliot in the snow.
It’s stupid. They don’t talk to each other for days.
- - -
Mark shows up with a small box the following week, looking kind of harried with his already unruly hair resembling more of an afro than the curly mob it’s supposed to be. Eduardo’s just arrived from being sworn in and he’s not sure what to do.
“I know I was a jerk about you getting into the Phoenix but I didn’t really mean it. At first, I didn’t want to admit that you were better than me and that you were more desirable to Final Clubs than I was. But then I thought about it and I figured they could use someone like you and I’d just probably bring them down.”
Blinking, Eduardo steps to the side to let Mark in and crosses his arms across his chest. He’s never heard Mark be so self-deprecating before.
Mark fidgets with the box and looks everywhere but at Eduardo’s face. “I wasn’t jealous. I just didn’t think you deserved it.”
Eduardo scoffs. “Is that why you’re here now? You wanted to tell me this so you could feel better about yourself? Or was that other thing just a backhanded compliment?”
“No.” Mark finally looks in Eduardo’s eyes and Eduardo sees the panic that briefly flickers in Mark’s. “Past tense, Wardo, I don’t think that anymore.”
“Then what do you think?”
Shrugging, Mark shoves the box into Eduardo’s hands, says, “Congratulations,” to the floor and backs away. He doesn’t leave.
Small as it is, the box weighs kind of heavily in Eduardo’s palms, like maybe it’s a watch or something, or a rock, since Mark has the sensitive capabilities of one and would think giving one would remind Eduardo of him the most. Or something equally stupid. He doesn’t open it; it just sits in his hands as he stares at Mark intently, trying to figure this out.
It’s not like Mark to backtrack on something like this. It’s not easy for him to admit mistakes and try to make things right like any other normal person. Mark’s problem-solving skills are either really eccentric or nonexistent and, from past experience, Eduardo would say Mark doesn’t know how to fix anything that isn’t on a computer screen.
But here he is, actually trying, unknowingly breaking Eduardo’s stupidly fragile heart all over again, and Eduardo wants to forgive him so badly because fighting with Mark is a losing battle. Somehow, they’ll end up back in each other’s good graces and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.
He bites his lip for a few seconds and then asks, clearing his throat, “What is this?”
Mark doesn’t want to look up, Eduardo can tell from the set of his shoulders, so Eduardo puts his free hand under his chin and tips his face up. Mark’s Adam’s apple bobs against his knuckles. “A watch.”
Eduardo’s chest tightens and he drops his arm to his side. “Why would you get me a watch?”
Mark shrugs at him again then shakes his head, thinking better of it. “Yours is old.”
“I like my - well, yeah, it’s really old.”
“Are you going to open it?”
Eduardo considers that for a moment. If he doesn’t open it now, he can insist later that Mark take it back. It’s not necessary for him to bribe Eduardo with gifts just so he’ll forgive him. All he ever needs is genuine remorse and Mark’s given him that already, just by being fidgety.
“Later,” he decides, smirking. Right now, he needs to feel Mark writhing beneath him, needs to see him tossing his head back and forth, needs to hear him whimpering Eduardo’s name like he would whisper God’s name in prayer. He needs to watch him lose his unclenching grip on control and give into pleasure because it’s been so long and he wants Mark to enjoy this so badly.
After setting the gift on his desk, Eduardo yanks Mark to him, hands fisted in the front of Mark’s sweater on each side of the GAP emblem. Their mouths mold and their teeth click together. Eduardo’s rough in all ways, wanting to keep Mark here, even if it’s just for the night.
- - -
A month after winter break, Thefacebook finally goes live. He and Mark send emails to fifty different people and sit in front of the computer for an hour, drinking beer, watching the hits come. He has to nudge Mark awake a few times because he starts losing his train of thought in the middle of their conversation. Eventually, he gives up and lets Mark drool on his shoulder. Eduardo tips his head back against the wall and strokes Mark’s hair, fighting off sleep until he can’t do it anymore, regardless of it still being early in the night.
He wakes up to Dustin shaking his leg and Chris snapping his fingers in front of Mark’s face. Even when he’s groggy he can tell their tag-teaming technique is some kind of ploy to get them to do something stupid. That notion is reinforced when he notices how strong Dustin’s breath smells of alcohol and if Chris is helping him, he must be drunk too.
Groaning, “Stop fucking touching me,” he kicks at Dustin and turns his nose into Mark’s hair. Mark’s still blissfully unaware that two monkeys are trying to wake them up.
“Aww, lookit that, Chrissy!” Dustin gushes. One of them starts clapping. “Ain’t it jus’ so sweet?”
“You fuckin’ tease, Wardo,” Chris starts, and Eduardo looks at him because he really sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. Which doesn’t make any sense at all. “You said you weren’t gay!”
That makes Dustin start laughing obnoxiously but Eduardo doesn’t get it. It just makes him confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You fuckin’ - you fuckin’ owe me.” Chris points at him and his hand’s wavering. “You owe me big time, Wardo.”
“For what?”
Dustin jumps in with, “You’re so fucking Mark, aren’t you?”
Eduardo widens his eyes and blushes. “No, what - no, that’s just -”
“Aha, I knew it!” Laughing again, Dustin starts jumping around, twirling in a circle, and he eventually drags Chris with him, who doesn’t look happy at all. Eduardo would get him to the bathroom because he actually looks like he’s about to throw up but he doesn’t want to leave Mark’s side. That his arm is numb and his butt hurts is no matter; he’s too warm to give this up.
Dustin’s stupid dance eventually leads them out of the room. They’re considerate enough to close the door.
Mark grunts into Eduardo’s neck, “Thank God,” and Eduardo laughs. He didn’t even notice Mark waking up.
“They’re idiots,” he says, kissing the top of Mark’s head.
Yawning, “Yeah,” Mark sits up straight, freeing Eduardo’s side, and then just rolls over so he’s lying down instead. Eduardo follows suit, assuming that if he doesn’t sleep spooned up behind Mark tonight, he won’t get any sleep at all.
He doesn’t even feel embarrassed thinking that - or thinking, right before he falls asleep again, that he could probably live with this forever.
Part Three