never let eduardo go 3/3

[maybecatie]

Sacrifice (sak-ruh-fahys)
1. to  make a sacrifice or offering of 2. to surrender or give up, or permit injury or disadvantage to, for the sake of something else 3. to dispose of regardless of profit

Eduardo’s room at the care center feels too empty. He hasn’t yet been given a new roommate, so Dustin’s bed lies there, always made, untouched. He’s inherited Dustin’s possessions; some books, journals and photos, but he doesn’t dare go through them. He keeps them safe, though, knowing Dustin would want him to.

He’s glad, at least, that Dustin got to have some happiness before he completed. A day with his old, lost love was the best thing Eduardo could have ever given him, so he doesn’t have many regrets.

He’s not scared, knowing what his next donation will bring, really. This is what he was meant, created to do. He can’t do anything else with his life, but Mark can achieve great things. Mark still has a long way to go, and if Eduardo can give him that?

He can only hope that Mark will be as understanding.

Eduardo empties Dustin’s drawers before the whitecoats can come in and take everything away before the reassign the extra space. He doesn’t really care who his new roommate will be, he’s not going to be here for much of the time, anyway. He tucks Dustin’s books in the suitcase stored under his bed and then sits on top of the bed, sighing and running a hand through his hair. How is he going to explain this to Mark?

It’s ironic. He’d wondered if the one to end up being Mark’s heart donor was anyone he knew. He’d say that it is.

It’s evening when he leaves the center, after an extensive physical, going back to the Facebook offices to meet Mark. There’s no sense in putting it off; with the very, very limited amount of time they have, they need to make the best of every second.

Mark seems to have been waiting for him, because the moment he steps inside, Mark is racing over to him, faster than he thinks Eduardo’s ever seen him run. He’s winded when he gets to him, wrapping his arms around Eduardo and gasping, hugging him, “Wardo! Wardo.”

“Hi, Mark,” Eduardo laughs, hugging Mark gently and kissing his cheek. “Wardo, I have great news-“

“Sh, I know you do.” Eduardo smiles a little painfully, pressing his finger to Mark’s lips, “I know, but I have something I’ve really got to discuss.”

“Wardo. I got a donor.”

“I know… Mark, we’ve got to talk.”

Mark looks ecstatic, but when Eduardo says that, the smile falters. He blinks at Eduardo and suddenly some kind of recognition flashes across his face; maybe he’s figured it out already. “Wardo…”

But Wardo shuts him up with a kiss, whispering “finish up, okay? I’ll be here.”

//

The car ride back to Mark’s apartment is silent. They haven’t mentioned what’s on both of their minds, or anything, really. Eduardo shuffles on his feet during the elevator ride up to Mark’s floor, stands behind him as Mark fumbles with the key to get inside.

“So,” Wardo whispers finally, “you’ve found yourself a donor.”

Mark’s face lights up again and Eduardo shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yeah! Yeah, I, yeah, I’m going to get a transplant and… I, uh…” he trails off, as Eduardo smiles weakly; Eduardo sees the realization cross Mark’s face, the horror darkening in his eyes. “Eduardo… no. No, you didn’t.” Mark looks white, whiter than normal, Eduardo rubs the back of his neck and looks away and Mark’s going to be sick. “Eduardo!” Mark cries, gripping his arm, “no, no, no. No, I won’t accept it, I can’t accept it!”

“You have to,” Eduardo says calmly, looking away as Mark shakes his arm. Mark stops, looking at him with wide eyes and for the first time Eduardo’s ever seen, they’re filled with tears.

“I won’t. I’m not letting you - they - you can’t! I won’t accept it, I won’t, I won’t go, I’ll… run away!”

“Mark, listen to yourself!” Eduardo grabs Mark’s flailing wrists, catches them and holds them still as Mark struggles, shaking his head and screwing his eyes shut. “You’re dying, Mark. You will die if you don’t get a donor heart.”

“Then I’ll keep waiting!”

“No, Mark, you and I both know you can’t. You’re dying, you don’t have time.”

“I’ll be-“ Mark struggles, gasping, to get his wrist from Eduardo’s grasp but he can’t, blinded by the wetness in his eyes, flailing uselessly, “I’ll be fine, let me go, you can’t do this!”

“Mark!” Eduardo whispers, reaching out to grip his lover’s shoulder in a desperate (but futile) attempt to calm him down. “Mark, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“You asked for this?”

“Of course I did, Mark. Look at me - please.” He’d expected the reaction, he’d planned for it, but nothing could have prepared him for the look on Mark’s face; horror-stricken, heartbroken, his ice-blue eyes wide and wet. It makes Eduardo’s legs go weak, makes the bile churn in his stomach, but he’s already done the deed and he can’t take it back. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

“You don’t deserve this, Wardo! I thought - I thought it might be longer…”

“Mark, look at me.” Mark’s turned his head away again but he slowly gives Eduardo his attention, his whole body shaking. “Have you forgotten what I am?”

“Don’t, Eduardo,” Mark chokes, “please, please don’t.”

“I think you have. I’m a donor, Mark. I’m meant to do this. Nothing else. I’m not meant to fall in love, but that happened.” Mark’s still shaking his head, but Eduardo knows he’s listening; Mark always listens to him. “I’ve had the best life I can ask for in my position. I’ve had an education, I’ve had you. You’ve shown me love. That’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“No, no, no, Wardo, Wardo, Wardo.”

“I’m a donor,” Eduardo continues. “I always have been. I’ve never dreaded it or not wanted it to happen, it’s just, me. It’s my purpose. You have a purpose - you brought people together, you have one of the most successful internet companies in the world, you were destined to be great. I was destined to do… this.”

Mark’s stopped struggling, but he’s shaking still, looking up at Eduardo slowly with his lip almost bit through by his teeth. “I don’t have a life ahead of me. There’s nothing for me waiting back at the care center. Anyone I know, or have ever known, I don’t have any more or I soon won’t.” There’s no self-pity in Eduardo’s voice. No hostility, no solemnity. Just speaking facts. “It’s not fair, maybe, but it’s not fair that you’re sick either, but I can take these two wrongs ad I can make a right. I’m going to complete, Mark. You can’t change that, you can’t change that at all. But you don’t have to die right now. You have great things ahead of you and you deserve to be able to do them. That’s what I want to give you. I said I’d give anything for you, Mark, and I meant it. Please, please, just… show me that it’s worth it.”

*

Two weeks. They have two weeks until the operation is scheduled, when Eduardo will make his donation; his heart, to replace Mark’s failed one.

Mostly, they do what they usually do. The office during the day, Mark’s home at night. Mark holds him as tight as he can before they fall asleep. He rests his head on Eduardo’s chest and listens to the beating. He savors every little thump he hears, knowing that soon they won’t be there. He wonders if it’s true what Eduardo said, about recipients of donor’s organs receiving some of their personality traits, some of their pain. It still baffles him how Eduardo can be so accepting of such a terrible fate, but he guesses some of it makes sense.

Mark kind of wants to cry every time he sees Eduardo. Every time he sees his face and knows that in two weeks, it won’t be here. That Eduardo is kinder and more interesting than anyone Mark knows and he doesn’t get a real chance to live. He feels like he’s stealing Eduardo’s life to save his own, even though that would happen anyway, even though Eduardo assures him that this is what he wants. He’s half glad that he will be the one to have Eduardo’s heart in his ribcage, where he’ll take care of it, not some random stranger It’s weird how this worked out, really; Mark, the CEO of Facebook who needs a new heart and Eduardo, the donor willing to give everything for him.

He knows he’ll never find anyone else like Eduardo. He’s not even going to try. It’s only been a couple short months, far too short, but Mark’s never going to forget him. Eduardo’s taught Mark so many important things about love and sacrifice. Eduardo always knew he was going to complete, only going to live a third as long as Mark would, but he never tried to run away from it, never even feared it. He’s happier than anyone Mark’s ever known and yet he has so little. How is it possible? What’s his key to happiness? Maybe just being alive and valuing the time he has is enough for him. Maybe there’s some weird kind of freedom in having no freedom. With all his choices made for him, he has no choice but to enjoy what he has. But Mark, with everything in the world open to him, can’t find anything that brings joy to his soul. Except Eduardo, of course.

Mark gets sick if he thinks about it too much.

“So you’ve got a donor?” Chris asks after the next meeting, and Mark closes his eyes and nods stiffly, “yeah.” He still feels awful; Eduardo’s back at the center today, undergoing some kinds of tests to prepare for the operation that Mark doesn’t even want to know about.

“That’s… that’s great, Mark!” Chris has to say he didn’t expect this; they’ve spent the past couple months preparing for what might happen to the company in the case of Mark’s death. It’s been a long, painful year for all parties involved. He doesn’t understand why Mark doesn’t look happy. “What is it?”

“The donor…” Mark closes his eyes, “the donor is Eduardo, Chris.”

“What… Eduardo?” Chris gasps, “how did that happen?”

“He… he volunteered, I guess,” Mark whispers.

“So you… you’ll have… his…”

“His heart.”

“God, Mark, I…”

“I know you never liked him and you probably don’t understand, but…” Mark closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Chris. Without him. He’s giving his life for me and I… I don’t even feel right taking it.”

“You’re not taking it, Mark,” Chris says. “He’s meant to do this. It would happen anyway, only it’d be someone else, not you.”

“I just feel awful. Like I’m stealing it.”

“Mark,” Chris sighs, pulling up the chair to sit down in front of him, “if you don’t, you’ll die. If you don’t, he’ll still do his donations. Nothing can stop that. But if he’s your donor, he can save you. And I’m pretty sure he wants to do that, so why not give him what he wants?”

Mark looks down at his lap, closing his eyes and sighing. Chris is right, of course. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way, I wish he didn’t have to.”

“I know, Mark. But there’s no use dwelling on what we can’t change.”

“I guess so. I’m… gonna get back to work, Chris, okay?”

Chris has never seen Mark look this crushed. It’s like all the life has drained out of him, all the energy and motivation that Chris always sees flickering behind his eyes and it’s scary. “Mark?”

“Yes?”

“Just make the best of what you have left, with him. That’s all you can really do.”

Mark closes his eyes, fighting back tears that come forth. He shakes his head and growls, wiring in and losing himself in code.

*

Then the nightmares start. Mark watches from above. He sees Eduardo strapped to a cold, hard operating table, wrists and ankles shackled in. He sees doctors in long white coats and masks standing above him, and he watches as they cut into his chest. He watches them peel back layers of skin and muscle, powerless to do anything as Eduardo screams and screams and screams.

He always wakes up just before they get to his heart.

*

The fair is on a Thursday, or it’s a Thursday night they decide to go because it’s really a week long thing. Mark wouldn’t normally go, not by himself or with Chris, but he goes with Eduardo.

Eduardo, of course, has never been to a fair before. Mark buys them the wristbands that will get them on unlimited rides for the night, even though he can’t go on many himself. Eduardo has never been to one, and he’s ridiculously excited, like some over-energetic puppy. Mark hasn’t been in years himself, and breathing in the smell of oil, popcorn and candy apples makes him feel like he’s a child again. Mark looks around the usual rides; the swinging ship, the spinning cars and the oddly comforting smell of the petting zoo.

“Where do you want to go first?” Mark asks; he can’t be bothered to care much, he knows what the carnival is all about; this is really for Eduardo. Eduardo’s blinking around at the flashing lights on the rides and the lights on the cotton candy stands and the lights hanging from string like Christmas bulbs over the paths. “I, uh…” the rides look so daunting from the ground, to someone who’s never been on one. “I can’t go on all the rides, but,” Mark smiles, “I can watch you.”

“No, let’s do something we can both do. I want to win you something!” Eduardo takes Mark’s hand and tugs him towards the game stands. He’s seen these on television and in movies, people winning their boyfriends or girlfriends teddy bears from the carnival games. Mark lets himself be dragged and sighs, smiling as they arrive at the balloon darts.

“What am I supposed to do with one of these?” Mark asks, gesturing towards the teddy bears; they’re colors of neon purple, pink, orange, green and blue. Particularly fluffy. Mark dislikes fluffy.

“Shush,” says Eduardo, reaching into his pocket.

Mark sighs, “do you need money?”

He shakes his head, “I got some from my carer.” He hands the money over and is given a small box of ten darts. He makes five and misses five, which earns him a small bear that he presents to Mark with the excitement of a five year old.

“Wardo…” Mark laughs hesitantly, wagging the bear’s arm, “what am I going to do with this?”

“I don’t know!” Eduardo laughs, “keep it, so you’ll think of me.”

He wanders over to the next booth, expecting Mark to follow. But Mark stands there, staring at the bear in his hands - green, and looking way too happy. Keep it so you’ll think of me.

Mark will. And he’ll think of Eduardo every day. He stuffs the bear in his sweater pocket and follows Eduardo to the next booth - this one’s the one where you try to knock down the milk bottles.

They go from booth to booth, Eduardo determined to in Mark some giant panda, but in the end, all they wind up getting is another neon bear and a monkey that hangs  around your neck by velcro’d paws. “It’s okay, Wardo,” Mark whispers to him, holding the bear to his chest, “I love these guys. I’m going to keep them forever, and they’re always going to remind me of you.”

Wardo looks assured at that. “I’ve used almost all my money - but I’m hungry. At least let me buy you something to eat?”

“Wardo, no, I can-“

“Mark. I’ll buy it, okay? Do you want a snow cone?”

“Eduardo-“

“What kind?”

“I can pay, don’t’-“

“Cherry-Blueberry? Got it.” Eduardo takes off to the snow cone stand and Mark blinks, looking down at the bear in his arm as if the plushie can  explain to him what just happened. It’s not that Mark isn’t touched by Eduardo’s offer, but he hates being helped. He hates people giving him money, giving him things, offering him assistance for stuff he doesn’t--

Eduardo’s back already, though. Oh.  He has  snow cone about as big around as Mark’s face and two plastic spoons. Mark feels himself being tugged to a bench on the edge of the path and when they plop down on it, Eduardo hands him his spoon.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… I’ve never had a snow cone before,” Mark says, and Eduardo puts on an exaggerated face of astonishment.

“Well, you have to! I’ve only had them once or twice myself, but Jesus, Mark, just eat some.”

Mark pokes the icy mound with his spoon before he takes a bite, and it is good. He closes his eyes and lets the juicy ice melt on his tongue, seeping through his mouth and down his throat. It chills him, and he takes another bite.

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Mark says, wondering why he’s never had one before. Eduardo grins like he’s just received the highest praise in the universe and he really is too cute to be real. It makes Mark’s heart hurt and he stuffs another spoonful in his mouth before he can do something stupid. Like cry. Cry because he thinks of all the times his parents never took him to the circus or to the beach so he could have one of these things or because it’s the last snow cone Eduardo will ever have.

They find a photobooth and Mark, with a sudden urge, tugs Eduardo inside. “What-?” Eduardo fidgets in the tiny seat that is clearlt not meant for two grown men while Mark feeds the three dollars into the machine. “It will take pictures of us and print them out,” he grins, smacking the button to scroll through the options of tones and frames. He goes for full-color and a simple background, but Eduardo still looks a little dumbfounded when he tugs him into his side just before he picture flashes.

The next one is more of a success. They’re both grinning, and in the third one, Eduardo makes some stupid crazy bug-eyed-tongue-out face and Mark can’t suppress his what the hell are you on look before the picture goes, but for the fourth one, he gives in and decides to be silly too, opening his mouth up in a wide grin (probably the only picture ever of Mark smiling) and Wardo goes all cross-eyed, doing some silly hand gesture.

“That was fun!” Eduardo giggles, almost falling over Mark as they stumble out of the booth. There’s a screen outside where they show an instant replay while the strip is printing, which is kind of creepy, but in Mark and Eduardo’s case, very entertaining.

Eduardo bends over to pick up the strip when it’s dropped into the slot. They’re all good pictures, with Wardo’s smiles and silly faces that are just so him.

“You look like you’re on drugs,” Mark says, and Eduardo stops and gives him a truly appalled look, “I would never!”

Mark blinks, realizing that was probably the very wrong thing to say, to a donor, and wow, he’s really fucking stupid. They probably have some Nazi drug policy. “I didn’t mean… I just meant… you look crazy.”

Eduardo pushes the pictures into Mark’s palm, “you keep them.”

*

Mark has to drag himself to work the next morning (or really, Wardo’s the one that does most of the dragging) not bothering to change out of the hoodie and sweats he slept in. His hair is a mess and he didn’t shower, but who the fuck cares, right?

“You look like crap,” Chris notes, but not in a cruel way. Mark replies with the expected ‘fuck off’.

He turns to his keyboard, and then stops, spinning back to Chris, “I’m not ready, Chris. I’m not ready to lose him. I can’t lose him, I can’t do it. Eduardo’s everything. And it’s just my fucking luck, you know? I get a boyfriend, I get someone who I really love and he’s a donor and he’s doing it for me and I know, I know I’ll never love someone in my life like I love him. I know nothing else is even going to come close to meaning anything. They… they say it’s better to have loved than lost, right? That’s bullshit, because losing something you love hurts more than anything. I can’t do this, I can’t say goodbye.”

This is the most emotion Mark’s ever showed, to anyone maybe except Eduardo. Chris just doesn’t know what to do. “Mark, I… I’m sorry. I really am sorry. But you-“

“And don’t give me some bullshit, like ‘everything happens for a reason’ or ‘it was meant to be’ or that I shouldn’t worry about what I can’t control, any of your usual crap, please, Chris, I can’t take that.”

“Mark… there’s nothing you can do,” Chris whispers. It hurts to say, but it’s the truth. “I think you should take time off work. Spend it with Eduardo. Love him, do everything you want to do with him. Make it worth it. And then there is something you can do, Mark, you can work to help people like him. You know the truth now. You have money, and power, and you can do things with it. Eduardo - right now, he’s in the break room probably, go find him and take him out. He doesn’t have much time left - what, a week? make it count.”

So that’s what Mark does. He logs off his computer, he goes to the break room and gets Eduardo and they leave. He clears out of work for the next two weeks - really, what’s the worst that could happen? Eduardo’s more important than Facebook. Eduardo is more important than anything.

“You mentioned a waterfall, before,” Mark says as they’re walking out of the office. Eduardo stops and so does he, Eduardo’s eyes study him as he asks, in a whisper, “Can you take me there?”

Eduardo nods. They get in the car, Wardo hopping into the driver’s seat and Mark in the passenger. His chest aches, and he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as Eduardo starts the car, listening to the rumble of the engine and being eventually lulled to sleep by the soft bumps in the road. Eduardo glances over at him and smiles; Mark looks like an angel when he sleeps, especially now, with his feet up on the seat and his head in his arm, against the window. He doesn’t look like anything’s wrong with him, from the outside, it doesn’t look like his heart is beating slower and slower until it will eventually stop. He’ll have Eduardo’s heart before he gets there, though.

Eduardo rests a hand on his chest, feeling his own heart healthily beating against the skin. Donors sometimes speculated about what happened after they completed. He’d heard stories about donors who donated hearts still being able to feel, in in their new bodies. He doesn’t fear completion - how are you supposed to fear something like that? No one understands what it really means.

Some of the donors he knows hate the whitecoats, hate originals, face their donations with bitterness and remorse. But Eduardo’s not one of them. He’s doing this for Mark and he doesn’t regret his decision. As long as Mark, and people like Mark live on, everything is worth it.

They get there and Mark wakes up when the car comes to a stop on the road. “Nng?” he mumbles, sitting up and opening his eyes. They’re parked on the edge of an empty road on the edge of a wood. “We’ve got to walk a bit,” Eduardo whispers. Mark nods, rubbing his eyes and clambering out, blinking around at the trees. “How long have we been driving?”

“’Bout an hour,” Wardo says, squeezing Mark’s shoulder, “it’s a short walk, but if you get tired, we’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay,” Mark whispers. He takes a deep whiff of the air; it smells of pine and trees, not of smoke and gasoline, and there are birds flying overhead and this is what fresh air is meant to be.

It’s hard for both of them to walk through the woods, even if it’s a fairly short distance. Eduardo goes in front of Mark and holds tree branches aside to keep a clear path for him to walk through, ignores Wardo’s repetitive questions of are you okay and do you want to slow down.

But eventually they get there. There’s the sound of rushing water before they come to the clearing. It’s a wide, shallow river, rushing across beds of slippery rock, leading all the way down to where it plunges off the edge of a cliff. “It’s slippery,” Eduardo whispers, taking Mark’s hand, “careful.”

Mark kicks off his flipflops and holds them in his hand as they edge along down the damp rocks. It’s beautiful here; the air is clear and crisp and smells of life and freshness. The forest is alive around them, birds chirping and flying overhead and Mark never even knew any of this existed. For once, he’s not thinking about the future, he’s not thinking about the coding he could be doing now or getting home to make up for the lost time, he’s just being. Being with Eduardo, it’s all he needs. It’s all he can do.

They sit down on the edge of the rocks, legs hanging over the cliff. Mark sighs as he nuzzles his face in Eduardo’s neck and breathes in his smell. When he comes back from the care center, he smells like the doctor’s office and lavender linen spray and drugstore shampoo. It’s oddly comforting, mixed with the smell of trees and dirt.

Eduardo was right. This is the perfect place to go to get a clear head. Out here, you see how life was intended to be. Big and lush and green and wet and dirty. With the towering trees and the plunging water, you feel small, there’re no social distractions and you can just think.
He feels honoured, to have been allowed to see Eduardo’s special place.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers honestly; Eduardo just nods, he knows it is, and wraps his arm around Mark’s waist. Mark reaches behind them, taking a rock and idly tossing it into the water. Eduardo teaches him how to flick your wrist so it bounces off the surface, and they spend a while doing that, they even have a little contest to see who can get their rock to skip the most times. For about an hour, Mark can forget about everything. He’s alive, Eduardo’s alive, they’re both safe and this is now and it’s okay.

Back at his apartment, Mark tells him. “I’m off work the next couple of weeks,” he says, “so we can spend it together.”

“Good,” Eduardo whispers, closing his arms around Mark. Mark can’t believe they’ll be gone soon. Eduardo nips gently at his neck, Mark tips his head to the side, presenting the pale canvas of his neck. It’s too pale, like Mark doesn’t ever go out in the sun. Eduardo sucks under his jaw and over his shoulder, painting his neck with reds and purples.

“I love you, Mark.”

Mark swallows, “Yeah, Wardo,” because he still can’t bring himself to say it. Why should it be so hard to say it? He knows what he feels but he just… can’t… say it. He has to say it, before time runs out.

They kiss as they stumble back towards Mark’s bedroom. Eduardo pushes Mark down onto the bed, pushes his shirt up and mouths at his stomach. Mark sighs, leans back and closes his eyes, threads his fingers in Eduardo’s hair. Eduardo grips his sides, licking at his naval and nipping his hip bones.

“Fuck, fuck, Wardo,” Mark sighs, feeling the bruises rise. Wardo moves up slowly, lips trailing up Mark’s chest until they’re at his mouth, ravishing it, and Mark kisses back with all he has. Every kiss, he has to treat like it’s the last because it may very well be.

He runs his hands over Mark’s chest, his nipples, biting at his neck until the skin darkens (something Mark usually wouldn’t let anyone do). Mark closes his eyes, fingers clenching and unclenching in Wardo’s hair.

“Lube’s in the nightstand,” he finally whispers.

Eduardo grabs it, peeling Mark’s pants and underwear off, flicking them to the floor and repeating the process with his own clothing. Mark always winces when he sees the scar on his left side, a reminder of what he is, but he brushes it off when he feels Eduardo’s lips on his, a lubed finger at his hole.

Mark closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and sinks into the bed, relaxing his muscles to make the entrance easy. He’s not used to this, not like Wardo is, but Wardo’s taking his time - plenty of care, plenty of lube, plenty of time and it doesn’t hurt.

“Are you okay, are you okay? he keeps whispering and finally Mark scoffs, “you won’t break me.” Eduardo sighs, kissing Mark’s neck and working in the next finger. “I don’t want to risk it.”

“Wardo - just… please.”

“Now?”

“I’m ready.”

Eduardo looks dubious but he doesn’t argue. Mark closes his eyes, leans back as Wardo slicks himself up and gets in position, his body pressing against Mark, the bruises throbbing and stinging. He kisses Mark as he pushes in and Mark sighs, eyes fluttering open to watch his face. He can see why Wardo likes this. He feels full, full with no room for sadness or anything nasty left in him.

“Fuck, Wardo,” he mumbles, as Eduardo’s nose presses into his neck, whispering to him “are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mark whispers. He can’t be much better than he is right now. He closes his eyes again, sighing, “move.”

Eduardo gives a gentle thrust, his arms wrapped around Mark tight and secure. Mark doesn’t usually like to take things slow, usually gets annoyed if anything takes more than the required amount of time because it means he could be doing something else. But like this with Eduardo, he can’t regret anything, he can’t want anything else.

There are more bruises, on his hips and his shoulder, bruises on Eduardo, too, from Mark’s tight grip. It’s messy and wet, slow and hot until they’ve both come twice and can’t see straight. When Wardo finally pulls out, panting and hot, both of them sated and sticky, he moves to get up but Mark tugs him back down, “don’t you dare think you’re going anywhere.”

“We should clean up, Mark…”

“Fuck it. Stay here.”

Eduardo smiles and rolls onto the bed by Mark’s side. He thumbs Mark’s bitten lip, nuzzles his neck, traces more intricate patterns over his chest. “I love you, Mark, he whispers.”

“Yeah, Wardo, I know.”

//

On Saturday, it rains. It’s raining when Mark wakes up, and the spot next to him is empty. He sits up and glances out the window at the downpour. It’s been so hot lately that the water hitting the ground is causing steam to rise from the pavement. He hears the trails of car horns from the traffic the weather is causing and sighs as he rises out of bed. He shuffles down the hall and Eduardo is in the sitting area, perched on the window seat. He nods when Mark comes in, but doesn’t look away.

Mark shuffles over. The street below is packed with cars, tail lights fuzzy and blurry in the streaked window. The sky’s blue though, and the trees look greener than they did yesterday. Mark slips behind Eduardo, sitting on the seat against the wall and gently resting a hand on his stomach, and they watch the rain together.

*

A lot of time is spent in the shower even when they don’t need to get clean. They stand in the shower, Wardo pours shampoo into Mark’s hair and lathers it with his soft hands. Mark runs the loofa over Eduardo’s chest, painting his skin with suds. Then they switch.

They make love in the shower. More and more often it’s Mark being on the receiving end, just needing to be held, needing as much of Eduardo as he can possibly get.

Or they just stand under the water and hold eachother, with the water smacking against the shower tiles and rolling off their bodies.

*

Eduardo has to go back to Kingsfield for some pre-op standard tests, mostly the same as the last ones he had. He tolerates the poking and prodding and by the time he’s out of there, it’s about the time he’d be eating lunch. He wanders down to the cafeteria, wondering if Tyler and Cameron will be there today.

They are. And it’s so weird to see them alone, with no Dustin. He could always lighten the room with his jokes, and without him there it feels like what little sunshine existed before has just been sucked out.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show his face again,” Tyler sneers as Eduardo sits down across from them. “We haven’t seen you in days, Eduardo, what’s the deal?”

“I’ve been out.”

“Out with your original friend, I take it.”

“Well, yeah. Do you want me here or not?”

“Just interesting that you’d pick him over us,” Cameron says, stabbing broiled carrots with his fork, “You heard about Dustin?”

Eduardo averts his eyes, “Yeah.”

“You’ve barely been here the past few weeks, Eduardo.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been spending it all with him?”

“Yeah, I have. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you guys about.”

Cameron sighs, “What is it, Eduardo?”

Eduardo looks down at the empty tabletop in front of him. “My next donation’s next week.” He figures there isn’t any need for details other than that.

“Oh-“ both the twins’ faces soften, but Cameron looks at him like he’s trying to tell if he’s lying or not.

“Just thought I’d tell you, you know, if we don’t meet again.”

“Right…”

There’s nothing else for them to say. Eduardo’s not going to tell them that he certainly won’t be coming back, or why, especially not why. “That’s all I wanted,” Eduardo says, “so you guys can go on about your business without me as usual, I guess.” He stops, realizing that was a little cold, “look, guys, I’m sorry… for any differences we’ve had in the past.”

Tyler just huffs, but Cameron reaches across the table and touches Eduardo’s hand, “it’s okay, man.”

Eduardo nods. “Yeah, it is.” He pauses again, “I respect you guys, both of you. It’s been… nice.”

“Ditto, Ed,” Cameron says gently, “and good luck.”

Eduardo nods, even though he doesn’t need it. He leaves the center then, and there’s nothing else left that he has to do.

*

It goes by way too fast. Way too fast to do anything, before Mark even blinks. He wills the time to stop, stares at the clock and begs it to slow down. He doesn’t care about Facebook. He doesn’t care about his health. All he wants is more time, more time with Eduardo, please, God. But time doesn’t listen to anyone. He tries to savor every single second they spend together. He doesn’t want to sleep - that’s wasted time. But Eduardo makes him sleep, telling him he needs to be well rested for the operation. Mark will fight it, but Eduardo will just hold him, rubbing his back, singing soft words to Mark in foreign languages until his body is no match for him.

The worst part is Eduardo doesn’t dread it, doesn’t fear it at all. He isn’t afraid. Mark always thought it was foolish to be afraid of death. He, personally, has never believed in an afterlife. Death is just the end of everything. How could you be afraid of nothing? But being on the other side, losing something that special to you, is completely different. Losing one thing is hard. Losing everything is easy.

On the last night, Mark holds Eduardo as tight as he can. Neither of them sleep. It rains again, and they stay awake, in the darkness, listening to eachother breathe. There’s nothing left for them to say to eachother, nothing that would matter. Mark watches the hovering green numbers in the dark, from his alarm clock, willing, wishing, praying for them to slow down. But that’s, of course, impossible, and the sunlight does eventually begin to filter in through the window.

They don’t have breakfast; neither of them is supposed to eat before their operation. They don’t even say much to eachother as they get up. There’s not much left to say - small talk at this point would just be painful. Mark doesn’t like using meaningless words to fill up silences and at this point, words would just be useless.

Mark calls a cab, so he and Eduardo can be as close as possible for as long as possible.

They step outside, waiting on the curb for it. It was raining in the night, but it’s stopped now. The sky is the brightest blue, cloudless. The street is damp, the air is cool and fresh. It’s a good day for a last day. As they wait, Eduardo wraps his arms around Mark’s neck, pulling him in and Mark lets out a shuddery breath, willing himself not to cry. He can’t cry, not in front of Eduardo, he doesn’t want him to feel bad about this.

In the back of the cab, Eduardo tangles his fingers in Mark’s hair. Mark’s chest hurts even more than normal as he bunches up against Eduardo, not bothering with the proper vehicle safety. He thanks the heavens every time they’re stopped at a red light.

And when they get to the hospital, it’s all Mark can do to stop himself from standing there and screaming. Like a little kid in a toy store, he just wants to kick his legs and punch and scream and beg, “No! No, you can’t take him from me! Die? I don’t care, I’d rather die, no!”

They’re going to have to part soon, so both of them can be prepared for their operations. The closer they get, the more Mark realizes what this really is, what Eduardo really is. He’s known it before, but it’s never really sunk in. Eduardo was made to do this - Eduardo was born to die, for the life of someone else. And he’s okay with that. Eduardo was never meant to live past thirty, or however long the donors live, and he was okay with that. But no matter how fast these past few months have gone by, Mark was able to make them good ones for him.

He stops, pulls Eduardo against his chest and buries his face in his neck. Eduardo’s arms wrap around him, thin but strong, one more time.

“I don’t regret it,” Eduardo whispers. “I’m doing this for you. And I don’t regret it. I don’t have a life ahead of me, Mark, you do. You can do anything; letting you die would be doing the world an injustice. No one will miss me.”

“I’ll miss you.”

Eduardo leans back, runs his hand over Mark’s cheek. Mark trembles, leaning into his hand, “this way, Mark, you’ll always have a piece of me. It’s not like I need it, anyway.”

Mark pushes himself into Eduardo again, holds him as tight as he can for as long as he can, knowing he’ll never feel it again.

Ever.

“I love you, Mark Zuckerberg,” Eduardo whispers, faintly, in his ear.

“I love you, Eduardo.”

And then it’s time for them to part.

They go in opposite directions, different wings of the hospital.

Mark doesn’t feel anything after that. He doesn’t feel anything when the doctors have him strip out of his clothes and put on the gown that never quite ties well enough to be fully concealing, when he gets his blood tested and pees in a cup and all the preliminaries to make sure everything’s right with his body before the operation starts. How many times has Eduardo undergone similar tests? What’s he thinking right now? He doesn’t want to be alive. He doesn’t want Eduardo to give his life for him. He doesn’t care if the fucking disease kills him. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to live at all without Eduardo.

“I have to see him,” Mark tells his doctor. The man looks at him dubiously ad Mark yanks his arm down, to his level where he’s sitting on the chair, “I have to see him. Please, please, please. Please. Just see him. I just have to see him again.”

So they take Mark, down the winding hallways of the hospital, into another wing. Mark feels like he’s going up - it burns wet in the back of his throat, heavy in his stomach, threatening to come up at any second. He actually tastes bile in his mouth but by some miracle he holds himself together.

He watches from behind a glass window and he’s just in time to see them bringing Eduardo in. He’s stretched out on a metal table, eyes looking about but he doesn’t seem fearful at all. When he looks over at Mark, he’s completely calm, even looks peaceful. He has an IV stuck in his hand and the little patches on his body, but looking at him just now, you’d never know what he’s about to undergo.

Mark becomes oddly calm, too. He presses his fingertips gently to the glass, glad that he can be here, in Eduardo’s final minutes. He nods, almost imperceptibly, and whispers “I love you” through the glass. It’s the first time he’s said it of his own accord but he’s never felt it stronger. Wardo can’t hear him, but catches the shape of his lips and he mouths the words back. And then he smiles, winces, but still smiles as the doctor injects something into his IV, something that will let him drift away fast and peaceful.

Their eyes stay locked until Eduardo’s have to close, his head droops and falls against his shoulder. The movement of his chest stops.

He’s gone.



“Mister Zuckerberg,” the doctor touches his back, gently, his words in a sympathetic whisper, “we’ve got to get this done as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, right, right…” Mark closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to see the rest, anyway. He turns away, and when they head to the operating room, he’s oddly calm. Eduardo’s gone now, Eduardo died having done everything he wanted to do.

Eduardo gave his life, his heart, so Mark could have his. Even if he was going to do that, for someone, all along, that’s something Mark won’t ever forget.

And something he won’t take advantage of. He’ll go on, he’ll live, because Eduardo wanted him to - or all of this would have been a waste. He won’t let that happen.

*

Mark wakes up in the hospital, in the recovery wing. He hears voices around him, muffled, but he can’t make out any words that they’re saying. He’s in a room with several other people. He feels a lurch in his stomach and groans - a nurse has just enough time to be pushing some kind of tray under his face before he’s throwing up, and then he’s asleep again.

When he wakes up the next time, he’s more alert, but he doesn’t know where he is. It’s dark, and there are machines beeping and someone calling his name. Someone in a white coat waving fingers in front of his face. “Mark… Mark? Mark? Mark!”

He falls asleep again, doesn’t know anything except he doesn’t want to see the people and hear the beeping. The next time he wakes up, a nurse is giving him a sponge bath; he’s awake long enough to recognize that fact before he’s unconscious again.

The next time, he’s finally alert and well enough to look around him. He’s hooked up to several machines and he blinks, tiredly, as a nurse wraps the cuff around his arm to check his blood pressure and another doctor asks him if he can please wiggle his toes. He’s hooked up to monitors and machines. He still doesn’t fully comprehend everything until the doctor tells him that the operation was a complete success and if he feels any pain, he should just push this button.

Oh. Right. The operation.

Eduardo.

Eduardo.

He feels the pinch in his chest and he looks down into the gown, reaching under it and running his hand over the scar that goes directly down the center of his chest. He has Eduardo’s heart now. The heart of the only person he’s ever loved is in his ribcage now.

He jams his finger down on the little button the nurse gave him and lets the morphine wash over him, carrying him to sleep.

*

Mark’s in the hospital for a few days to recover. The operation went flawlessly, the doctors say.

Flawlessly except for one thing.

He sleeps for most of the days. He has his own room, and the days and nights blend into eachother seamlessly, made blurry by medications and sleep and tasteless food. He pees into a tube for a couple of days until they deem him well enough to walk to the bathroom by himself. He doesn’t let them give him a sponge bath again, but he forces the tasteless, lumpy food down. Well, no, it’s not tasteless, he wishes it was tasteless.

He’s finally sent home, after making a full recovery. He buries his face in the pillow that still smells like Eduardo, the sheets they never washed after that night, before they left, and smells him. Eduardo’s everywhere in the room from the scent on the pillow to a ball of his clothes in Mark’s dresser, to the alphabetized books on his shelf that Eduardo arranged once. His bed is too big, too empty, too reminiscent. He feels Eduardo's heart beating in his chest, a constant reminder of him, and being able to breathe is a blessing, but he doesn't know if the pain in it is Eduardo's or his own. Oddly enough, he does find himself doodling, counting things, alphabetizing things and he's ot sure if he's doing it concsiously or not.

The photostrip from the fair is lying on Mark’s bedside table. He pins it above his bed, where it’s the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. It’s the only thing he has on his wall.

There’s no funeral for Eduardo. Donors don’t get funerals. As far as the world is concerned, Eduardo never existed. Mark wonders what they’ll do with the body. After emptying it of any vital organs they need, of course - Mark shudders at the thought of what it would look like afterwards. They’ll probably burn it. Burying him would require too much space and effort.

His memories of Eduardo, even his last ones, are all of him smiling. Even when Wardo was walking to his death, even when he was on the operating table for the procedure that would kill him and he knew it, he looked over at Mark and smiled. Eduardo had nothing to

At least it was painless. The only reprieve Mark gets is that it was painless and quick, and Eduardo was happy. He died nameless, memorable to no one but Mark. And when Mark’s gone, no one will remember him, no one will think about him, or people like him. Unless Mark does something about it. Chris is right. He has the money, the power, the influence to make a change.

Mark still doesn’t understand Eduardo in a lot of ways. But maybe it’s better that way. Maybe he’ll never be able to understand, maybe no matter how much time he had with him, he’d never be able to understand. Eduardo’s not even on his level. He never was. Eduardo’s a different breed of human. A breed of human born to die for the benefit of another. A breed of human that can give everything for nothing. Mark has everything he could possibly want, everything except him. But maybe he was lucky to have had time with him at all.