I'm Alright (I Just Forget You All the Time) (2/4)
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | ART + FANMIX
The next event he attends with Mark present goes equally as badly as the other two, but not for lack of trying.
Eduardo decides beforehand that he's not going to drink during this-he’s going to try and make it through as sober as possible. He'll be fine, he can totally do this. He doesn't need alcohol anyway; he doesn't have to give Mark the satisfaction of seeing him drunk and a mess and lacking composure, won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he caused it. So there.
But then Mark actually shows up, and everything goes to pot.
Chris doesn't even attend the function, which makes Eduardo wince a little guiltily for half a second as he wonders if he's the reason why, before he decides he's being ridiculous. They're all fully grown adults, not to mention professionals. For the most part.
Dustin does show up, however-and with a pretty, nice-looking brunette on his arm. He waves to Eduardo animatedly from across the room, and Eduardo tips his head back in a nod with an accompanying indulgent smile. Dustin looks like he kind of wants to head over, but then his date says something and he gets distracted. Eduardo figures it's probably for the best anyway... Dustin could be oblivious a lot of the time, but he had always been weirdly observant about Eduardo's relationship with Mark, and Eduardo would prefer not getting a lecture tonight. It could go either way: Dustin could berate him for giving Mark the cold shoulder and yelling at him at that one event, or he could wax poetic for hours about how all of this is could just be fixed if they admitted they were sorry and it would end in an explosion of rainbows and unicorns and true love (which is so obviously false it makes Eduardo clench his teeth just thinking about it). Yeah, he definitely doesn't want to give Dustin any ideas.
And then, Mark enters. Behind him is trailing a guy, a little younger than them probably, who Mark is talking to casually, offhand and comfortable. Eduardo surmises after watching them surreptitiously for a few minutes that the kid must work at Facebook (maybe he’s an intern or something) and be acting in Chris' role tonight, judging from the way he's fumblingly handing Mark cards and following him around everywhere.
But that's not all, either. Every time Mark says something to someone, the kid has a reaction. He either looks stupidly proud or he's laughing while Mark smirks after making a comment, like he's Mark's little cheering squad or something. And Eduardo's embarrassed for him, really, because the kid has way too many hearts in his eyes and his crush is really unprofessional. Not to mention that it’s also visible from like, space, to everyone except Mark, of course. But, on the same hand, he can't seem to make himself look away from them either, and he keeps getting mildly distracted in discussions with other people and... Yeah, he definitely needs something to take his mind off it.
Just by chance, he happens to look over at a group of people congregated on the other side of the room, not too far away. One of them, who looks somewhat familiar, catches his eye and tips his drink at Eduardo with a wink.
Eduardo forcibly stifles a shudder. He’s run into the guy at a couple of these things, but never for very long… He always just sort of leers at Eduardo appreciatively and then proceeds to hit on him for the rest of the conversation, using only the minimal amount of subtlety and usually making everyone else around them blush. At which point Eduardo usually clears his throat and excuses himself to go join another conversation.
It’s creepy is what it is, not to mention totally inappropriate. This is work, and those are the types of lines Eduardo doesn’t cross, thank you very much.
But as he’s looking away, he sees Mark again, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. Oh. This could be his distraction.
This… this guy-Eduardo is trying and failing to remember his name-is certainly willing. And he’s not completely repulsive. Eduardo could definitely make this work.
He throws back the rest of his drink and saunters over there, glancing at Mark as he does so and thrilling a little to catch him looking back for once (which is spiteful-that he thinks so there every time he has Mark’s attention, because he certainly didn’t before-but it’s not like Mark doesn’t deserve it), easily edging his way into the circle of conversation and turning on the charm. He chats business with everyone, shooting the guy-whose name is Kyle, the name tag he’s wearing proclaims-heated looks from under his lashes. Neither of them are being very subtle now, but Eduardo could not give less of a fuck.
There’s a speaker at the microphone, asking everyone to be seated, and the rest of the group surrounding them makes their way to their tables. But then Eduardo tips forward into Kyle’s space, brushing his lips against the shell of his ear, and says lowly, “Meet me in the bathroom.”
Kyle smirks like he’s won (Eduardo has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at that; it’s not like Kyle did anything to make this happen, he’s just-a distraction, that’s all.) and nods in response, and Eduardo leaves.
He doesn’t have to wait on Kyle very long, who practically storms into the bathroom stall and throws himself at Eduardo, kissing him harshly and with too much intensity. There are teeth clacking and noses bumping and hair being pulled and it’s not entirely pleasant. Well, not a lot of these encounters could be characterized as “pleasant”, but usually they at least wait to get to the fucking to get rough. Usually this part-the kissing, the foreplay-is at least a little more soft. It can still be full of lust and desperate, but in a good way, a pleasurable way. And that is a hell of a lot more distracting than this is, because then Eduardo can focus on the desire pulsing through him, the warmth of skin… All this is doing is making him kind of want to squirm away, or at least fast-forward through this part.
So he starts pushing at Kyle’s shoulders, which is rude and Eduardo usually tries to avoid that, but Kyle doesn’t seem to mind. He grins, predatory, as he steps back, fumbling with Eduardo’s belt and zipper. “Hungry for it, huh?” he growls, and Eduardo grits his teeth and exhales harshly, hoping that he just looks too turned on to answer and not as completely repulsed as he feels.
Kyle doesn’t actually seem to notice, just drops to his knees with no preamble and pulls Eduardo out, sucking him into his mouth almost immediately after.
“Oh!” Eduardo exclaims, part a surprised gasp and part-something else, a moan or something, because this at least is distracting. Kyle is apparently good with his mouth in this arena, because he’s licking and sucking slowly, curling his hand around the base to make up the difference and bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks. The suction is white hot heat, wet and tight, and now there’s a fire curling in Eduardo’s stomach, lighting him up.
He’s not very good at staying quiet either. He moans and groans and gasps and whimpers and can’t make himself stop. It’s not until Eduardo hears the door swing shut when he realizes someone came in. They had to, and how did the two of them not notice, the bathroom was empty when Kyle came in-and he feels himself flush with embarrassment and shame, because there’s absolutely no way that anyone could misinterpret this.
Eduardo pulls on Kyle’s hair sharply, partly as a warning and partly vindictively. But Kyle doesn’t pull off, just sucks more determinedly and then Eduardo comes down his throat, biting down on his hand to muffle his noises. He bites down so sharply that he can see white teeth marks in his skin, already darkening to soon form a bruise.
There’s not much time to think about it with Kyle pressed all along his front now, mouthing at Eduardo’s neck and jaw, and he can feel Kyle’s erection through his dress pants and knows this is only half over.
And… Eduardo just wants to get this over with as fast as possible. Not only does he hate himself, he hates Kyle, and a large part of him wants to leave right now. But he can’t, not only because that wouldn’t be polite, but because Kyle is more or less pinning him to the wall, heavy and expectant, and seemingly without any intention of moving.
So Eduardo unzips him and proceeds to give him the fastest, shortest handjob ever. It doesn’t take much (apparently Kyle gets off on getting head) so Eduardo just strokes him until Kyle pushes his face into Eduardo’s neck and groans, turning his head and biting a little too violently at the skin there. Eduardo starts a little, jumping away for a second out of disgust before he recovers himself.
It’s over pretty quickly after that. They both straighten their clothing as best they can and come out of the cubicle, washing their hands in silence. At least it seems to go without saying that they should leave separately to be less conspicuous-though, Eduardo doesn’t think they can really hope for inconspicuous at this point, realistically speaking-which is good because if he ever has to talk to Kyle again it would be too soon.
It appears that’s not meant to be. Kyle is oblivious, pulling Eduardo in by his tie for a filthy kiss before leaving. “See you out there,” he pants, inches from Eduardo’s face, and his skin crawls.
After he’s gone, Eduardo leans against the counter for a couple of minutes, breathing deeply. His grip is white knuckled, and he feels, just, dirty. There’s no other way to describe it.
But he takes a deep breath and steels himself to go back out there (though there is no way in hell he’s going back over to Kyle; his plan is to stay as far away from him as humanly possible). He pushes the door to the bathroom open and-
There’s Mark.
It doesn’t compute in Eduardo’s brain immediately. All he sees is Mark, his face splotchy and red, his eyes simmering with fire, hands shaking a little as they hover frozen in the air, mid-way through a gesture. Mark is meeting his eyes, but Eduardo can’t read them, doesn’t know what they’re saying.
Eduardo’s eyes slide further right, and there is Dustin, looking puzzled at Mark and then turning to Eduardo. And then there is comprehension, a look in his eyes that Eduardo can’t misinterpret, and it’s suddenly obvious Dustin knows everything.
Mark turns, without looking at Dustin again and certainly not sparing another look for Eduardo, and walks away.
Dustin looks back at Eduardo with none of the friendliness from earlier. Now there is steel in his eyes, and Eduardo’s not sure he’s ever seen Dustin this angry. It’s kind of scary. “What the hell was that?” he asks, his voice frighteningly cold.
Eduardo stiffens, unable to help the defensiveness that creeps over him. “None of your business. Or his either, for that matter.”
“Jesus Christ, Wardo…” Dustin mutters, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, in a look that Eduardo is much more used to seeing Chris wear.
Eduardo’s nostrils flare and he plows on. “What? Look, I’m sorry he’s upset, or offended, or-whatever he is, I am… but you know what, I’m not exactly living my life to please everyone anymore, so. Besides, I don’t even understand why-”
Dustin looks up suddenly. “Shut up. We both know that you may have been a little naïve once, but you’re not actually stupid.”
Which, only serves to make Eduardo angrier, because that’s right, he’s not stupid, and he doesn’t like what Dustin is insinuating because nothing could be further from the truth. If Mark cared about him in the least, he never would have done what he did. Why can’t people grasp that?
“Naïve?” Eduardo seethes, stepping closer and clenching his fists at his sides. “I’m sorry I wasn’t on the lookout for my best friend to stab me in the back, my bad-”
Dustin cuts him off with an eye roll, grabbing his wrist. “Come on, we are not doing this here,” he mutters, and drags Eduardo forcibly out the back door.
“What?” Eduardo screams once they’re outside, shaking his wrist from Dustin’s grasp. Part of him is aware that there are photographers not too far off, but the majority of him is too blinded by anger to care. “What aren’t we doing in there? Go ahead, say what you want to say Dustin! Go ahead and tell me that it’s my fault-”
“For one second,” Dustin yells back, “Will you quit acting like you’re a fucking helpless victim? It must be getting old for you, Eduardo, I know it certainly is for the rest of us.”
“Why? Why the fuck should I? I am the victim, Dustin! He did it on purpose. I didn’t have anyone looking out for me; no one was there to tell me not to sign that contract!”
Dustin gasps and takes a step back, and Eduardo knows he’s hit a nerve. There are photographers circling them now. Dustin is looking around nervously like he knows they’re getting this, and somehow the whole thing just fuels Eduardo’s fire, and he wants to keep pushing, stepping closer into Dustin’s personal space.
“If anything, you were an accomplice, Dustin-”
“Shut the fuck up, Eduardo!” Dustin yells, shoving him all of a sudden, seeming to forget about the paparazzi. “God, I know back in school you were his best friend, okay, but you don’t know the first thing about him now. You haven’t for a long time, since before the dilution, even. And… jesus, now I’m the one who’s there to pick up the pieces, okay, so stop assuming you know how we was thinking or feeling or how he is now, because you don’t. You have no idea.”
He exhales then, and his eyes are shining, and he doesn’t look at all like himself. It just doesn’t make sense in Eduardo’s brain to see him so upset, because that’s just… not Dustin. And Eduardo made him like that.
And now people are snapping pictures, and everything feels stomach-churningly awful, and he has to get out of there. He can stand here and argue with this… not-Dustin anymore. “I’m leaving,” he mutters, not even sure that Dustin can hear him over the commotion.
Dustin sniffs. “Yeah,” and then heads back inside, shoulders slumping and looking utterly broken.
Eduardo jogs down the street a little in an effort to get away from the persistent paparazzi, shouting baiting questions in his direction, trying to provoke him into responding. He finally flags down a cab, throws himself inside, and tries not to lose it.
//
Eduardo skips the next conference. He’s supposed to go: his company books him a hotel and everything. Which he still takes advantage of, in fact. That probably makes him a jackass.
But he had all intentions of going. He got dressed up, suit and all, and headed downstairs, but somehow never made it passed the bar in the adjacent room.
He figures it’s probably a good thing in the long run as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The press from the last event had gotten nasty; he’s honestly surprised his company even sent him this time after all that.
He had managed to catch a glimpse of Mark. Everyone going to the event had to pass through the bar to get to the ballroom, and he had turned just around at the time when Mark was at the threshold, about to walk in. And he was staring straight back.
His eyes had seemed… torn. But Eduardo was frozen and found himself unable to say anything, for the first time in a long time. Instead he had just sat there, returning Mark’s gaze, trying to remind himself to breathe.
And then Mark had exhaled bodily, turned away and straightened himself up, and walked straight in without looking back.
For some reason, that brief moment had hurt more than any amount of words ever could.
He’s still replaying it over in his mind when he hears the door open, and Eduardo sits straight up. He’s not expecting anyone; he has no idea who it could possibly be. He hears footsteps and then all of a sudden there is Mark, of all people, standing in the middle of his hotel room with arms crossed and face set in stone.
“Okay,” he says abruptly. “This has to stop.”
Eduardo looks at him blankly and manages to shake his head a little. His brain feels like it’s way behind and needs to catch up. “What… what the fuck, Mark? Why are you here?”
“Because Chris has been stomping around work for a month acting all bitter and angry, which is so not like him that it’s scaring all the interns, and because Dustin has basically turned into one of those overdramatic sad-faced emoticons, and I don’t know exactly how but it’s all your fault,” Mark says, his words sharp and biting in the hazy morning.
Eduardo grinds his teeth and tries to wrestle his way out of the sheets, disentangling himself and standing by the bed. As soon as he does so he immediately feels underdressed, wearing an old loose cotton tee and loose sweatpants, because Mark is wearing a blazer and slacks for some reason, all perfectly matched and it’s messing with Eduardo’s head. “It’s-fuck-this is none of your business-”
“Like hell,” Mark snaps, cutting Eduardo off and taking a step forward. “They are my business because they are my friends and I care about them-and, by the way, so do you, regardless of whatever you said-and, believe it or not, after all this shit, after everything, I still care about you too. So you are also my business,” Mark rants at him, stabbing his finger in the air towards Eduardo.
He hears himself laugh bitterly and feels the heat of anger rising in his cheeks because Mark has no right… “Funny way of showing it, bursting into my hotel room and screaming at me; yeah, I’m totally feeling how much you care about me, Mark-”
Mark rolls his eyes and the gesture only serves to makes Eduardo angrier, but before he can sputter out a response Mark is talking again, words at rapid-fire speed. “You’re right, it’s totally unreasonable of me to be worried every time you show up at a conference with bruising under your eyes like you haven’t slept for a year, getting so drunk you can’t stand up at a charity benefit, picking up some guy at a conference and fooling around with him in the bathroom, news articles and pictures documenting your screaming match with Dustin and speculating about drug use, but you’re right, no reason to be worried-”
“About your ex-best friend, yes, you have no right to be worried; you fucking caused all of this, Mark! Don’t pretend you’re some kind of white knight swooping in to save me!”
“I’m not trying to save you,” Mark spits out, taking another step forward. “I’m trying to make you see what you’re doing, see yourself. You’re hurting people, Wardo, that’s not okay-”
“Because you’ve never hurt anyone!” Eduardo retorts. They’re standing toe to toe now, and something churning in the pit of his stomach makes him feel like this is it, they are going to get to the bottom of this and have it out one way or another right now.
“Aren’t you listening? I’ve made mistakes and I’ve hurt you and that… that sucks, okay, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for all of it. But at the same time, Wardo, I still care about you.”
Eduardo staggers backwards like Mark slapped him. He’d heard it when Mark said it before but had been too focused on having the last word, on getting his anger out there to really listen.
Mark looks miserable, no longer defiant and furious, only sad and resigned as he leans against the wall, slumping a little. “I… I don’t know how to make it stop. I tried, and I hated myself for it for a while, but then I had to accept it,” he explains with a shrug. “I know that you probably think I’m crazy for it, and that you could never still care about me after what I did to you, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”
Eduardo’s still trying to process everything. It’s slow going because it seems like all his brain wants to do is replay I still care about you over and over and over again on a loop. He doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to that, but Mark looks down at the ground and continues.
“And so that’s why… That’s why I’m here, because it hurts to see you like this Wardo. I just want you to be okay.” He looks up at Eduardo with honesty in his eyes, and Eduardo wants to run away, run far, far away because he used to want this. He still does, if he’s being truthful with himself, but it’s all wrong now. It’s come at the most inopportune time because he is a mess. He’s spent so long trying to hate Mark and hating himself and attempting self-destruction, and he doesn’t deserve this now.
So he staggers over to the edge of the bed and sits down on it, feeling himself physically sag and raise a hand to cover his face. He wants to say something but he just can’t find the words… He feels gutted and most of all, he really doesn’t want Mark to see him like this.
“That’s all,” Mark says softly. Eduardo can feel Mark’s eyes on him but doesn’t-can’t-look at him. “That’s all I came to say,” he repeats, footsteps soft as he retreats out of the room. Eduardo’s senses feel heightened in the deafening silence, so he hears the creaking of the floor stop for a minute or two as Mark pauses in the living room.
Eduardo wonders if maybe Mark is debating whether or not to come back in, say more, try and convince him even further. Part of him wants this to happen desperately and the other half is terrified of the mere possibility. But, it only takes a minute or two, but then the sound of footsteps resume and then Mark is gone as swiftly as he came.
Just when Eduardo thought his life couldn’t be any more upside-down.
//
At first, nothing changes.
He goes about his business as usual: working, drinking, fucking. He stays away from conferences and charity events altogether, finally putting his foot down and telling his boss he just can’t do it. She looks a little disappointed but understands.
Eduardo just doesn’t want anything like that to happen again, running into Mark or Dustin or Chris. It just… it wouldn’t be good and he knows it.
Two things stay, however.
Eduardo can’t bring himself to throw away the business card Chris pressed into his hand that one morning. He continues to cover it up with things, piling yesterday’s newspapers and magazines on top of it so he doesn’t have to look at it when he sits at the island, eating his breakfast or dinner. He couldn’t stand the way it felt like it was staring him down, almost daring him in some way. But, whenever Eduardo goes to recycle all the papers he’d buried it underneath, he always fishes the card out before trashing them. He can’t explain why, because he doesn’t know why… it just happens.
The second thing is that he can’t make Mark’s words stop bouncing around in his head.
Not just the part where Mark said he still cares (though Eduardo has lost more than a few hours of sleep contemplating that one), but when Mark said he was hurting people who care about him. It’s hard to believe there are people who think about him often enough to worry for him and just hope he’s okay.
He hadn’t really thought about that before.
Because, throughout everything, he’s segregated his life. He’s put everyone into neat little boxes and made sure that this-whatever he’s doing, this downward spiral-was kept very separate from everything else. He’s drawn lines he’s tried not to cross and made rules for himself that he’s broken, because as long as things are self-inflicted they are okay. He never meant to hurt anyone else.
But he has, because this is life and it refuses to be sectioned away like that; it blurs lines and breaks through walls and gets messy, and mistakes are made and regrets had because that’s what people do.
The thought rolls around in his mind for a while before it actually changes anything.
Eduardo is at a club, flirting outrageously with a guy named Seth. They’ve been chatting at the bar for a while, Eduardo buying him more and more drinks and drinking more and more himself. Seth has brown hair and green eyes, but something about him is still vaguely Mark-ish… Eduardo doesn’t know if it’s the curls in his hair or the intense clarity of his eyes, or the young, passionate, intense energy about him (though the guy is only two years younger than Eduardo because he asked, okay, but for some reason Eduardo feels not only so much older and wiser, he also feels wearier).
Eduardo’s been drinking a lot too, so he excuses himself to slip into the bathroom. He’s standing at the sink washing his hands, when he looks up quickly into the mirror. But something catches his eye and he does a double take, forcing himself to face his reflection.
The dark bruising Mark has talked about is there, as are some other indicators. Something in his pupils seem dead, like there’s no light in them, and his cheeks look drawn and ashen. Wrinkles are starting around his eyes, and the way his mouth is set is tight, uncompromising, forced. He hates it, hates the way it looks on him and finds it difficult to recognize his true self underneath this toughened, harsh shell, like searching for a business card out of a mountain of trash.
And this is when the thought that he can’t banish, no matter how much he tries, becomes whole.
This is it. He’d been planning on going back out there and taking Seth home and fucking him and leaving in the morning, or the middle of the night if he had to, and that will hurt him. Not many people want to wake up to an empty bed after they fell asleep with someone beside them, and if they think they do, they’re either lying or running from something as much as Eduardo is.
But it doesn’t stop there. Eduardo will hate himself for doing it afterwards, which will hurt him, so he’ll lash out-at a coworker or a stranger, or maybe even someone he knows, that hadn’t stopped him when Chris and Dustin were in his path-and then that will hurt them and it’s all just so damned cyclic, and it won’t cease unless Eduardo forces it to.
His heart is pounding in his chest and his hands are shaking when he looks back down at them, but it’s far from a panic attack. Eduardo feels the most real and clear he has in months.
He rushes out of the club, apologizing profusely if hurriedly to Seth (managing not to say why) before leaving, trying to make it home before he loses the feeling because this is it, he can break out of this and everything will be better and things will stop now and…
Eduardo makes it home, rushes through the front door like he’s on fire and heads straight to the island. He finds the card at the bottom of the heap like he always does, and digs his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the rigid, sharp black print of the phone number on stark white paper, and freezes.
Suddenly this doesn’t feel like such a breakthrough. It feels fucking bloodcurdling, the last thing Eduardo ever wants to do. He walks backward until he hits the couch and sinks into it, business card and phone still in his head, like they’re going to face off head to head.
And even worse, his brain won’t shut up and let him think it out. His thoughts are racing, throwing in other options like there are other ways to end this cycle and what’s the point, you can’t change, you’d be better off dead at this point and quit turning everything you touch to shit and just end this, save everyone the trouble.
Just like that, Eduardo’s meaning of fear is completely redefined, because he has never been as scared as he is right now. His hands are shaking and his nervous, trembling hands flip over the business card just for something to do. And there-
Eduardo exhales, smoothing his thumb over messy black pen, Mark’s scrawl. It says, simple and matter-of-fact:
If you ever need someone.
--M
And underneath is a cell phone number.
He feels so relieved, he could cry. It makes sense, the pause in footsteps as Mark had left. Eduardo remembers having the card with him then, having taken it out of his pocket and left it on the counter earlier, and promptly forgot about it until he picked it up and put it in his wallet the next morning, taking it back home with him. Mark must have seen lying there and scribbled down his phone number.
Eduardo dials and holds the phone to his ear, his heart in his throat, because what if Mark doesn’t pick up and Eduardo is left with his racing, petrifying thoughts again?
It rings once.
It rings twice.
There is a click.
A muffled noise.
Finally, “Hello?”
Mark’s voice is inquisitive, since he doesn’t know who’s on the other end, and Eduardo lets out a shaky sigh to hear it.
“Mark,” he says, his voice cracking in the middle.
“W-Wait, hold on…” There’s a moment of shuffling and the sound of a door clicking shut, and then it’s silent. Mark speaks again. “Wardo?” he asks, his tone confused and worried.
“Mark, I… I’m sorry to call you like this, I just--”
“Bullshit Wardo, you can call me anytime. What’s wrong?” He sounds so concerned that all Eduardo wants to do is put his mind at ease but he can’t…
Eduardo shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on it a little out of nervousness. “I don’t know, Mark, I just… Can you come? Here?” His voice sounds wobbly and defenseless even to his own ears, and he hates it. “Now?”
“Yes,” Mark says without hesitation.
“I only-wait, what?” Eduardo is shocked; he hadn’t actually expected Mark to say yes, at least not right away.
“Yes, I’ll come. Wardo, I’ll leave right now.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Look, Wardo, I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t go anywhere, just-hold on, okay?”
Eduardo swallows and nods, jittery, before he remembers Mark can’t see him. “Yes, okay.”
There’s shuffling on the line, and then Eduardo is suddenly choked with the familiar feeling for Mark that he spent all of his college years trying to banish. “Mark?” he asked, his voice high and tremulous.
“Yeah?” Mark asks, breathless.
“Just…” He breathes out and shakes his head, “Mark, thank you,” he says, sounding wrecked and a mess but above all, honest.
“Of course,” Mark says softly. There is silence between them for a moment and then Mark says, “I have to hang up, I have to drive-but I’ll be right there. Wardo, just… don’t do anything, okay?”
“I won’t,” Eduardo says, and for the first time, he believes it.
“Okay,” Mark says, and he sounds like he believes it too. “I’m gonna hang up now.”
Eduardo can’t help it, he laughs, and it feels like a revelation. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon,” Mark says, and then there is a click.
Eduardo is just as alone as he was before he called, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like it.
//
Eduardo had left his door unlocked in his haste to get in the house, so half an hour later, Mark walks right in. He looks… well, he looks like a wreck, and coming from Eduardo, that’s saying something.
He himself is sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest in a corner, because… Well, honestly, he’s not quite sure why. He just felt like he needed to contain himself, but now he feels a little bit silly and very, very small.
“Wardo,” Mark exhales, relief coloring every centimeter of his face, and Eduardo feels so guilty for worrying him. Regardless, Mark rushes over and is kneeling in front of Eduardo, looking at him with that intense concentration only he can achieve.
Eduardo can feel tears welling in his eyes and he feels broken, fucked-up, damaged goods. He buries his face in his arms because he doesn’t mind Mark looking at him, he just doesn’t want to see what will be reflected back.
Mark reaches out and touches carefully, fingertips light on the skin of Eduardo’s hand as he gently tilts the business card so he can read the other side, the one with the phone number Eduardo just can’t bring himself to call.
He doesn’t try and take it from Eduardo’s death grip, just removes his hand and says in such a wracked whisper, “Wardo, what can I do?”
Eduardo wipes at his eyes furiously with the back of his hand and looks at Mark. Really looks at him, taking in the gently concerned expression on his face and the way he’s holding himself a little bit back, like he doesn’t want to overwhelm Eduardo or force himself on him in any way. He thinks about the Mark he knew at Harvard, and how that Mark feels forever away… Would that Mark have left his cell number in case Eduardo needed him, would he have come without a moment’s hesitation?
Shaking his head a little, he forces those thoughts out of his head. “Just…” he lifts the card. “I need help. I can’t seem to…” he trails off and gives a watery, self-deprecating smile that makes the set of Mark’s mouth tighten a little.
There is millisecond of panic as Eduardo frantically wonders what he did wrong, but the expression relaxes on Mark’s face as quickly as it came. Mark hesitates for a second and then gestures at the space next to Eduardo. “Can I?” he asks.
It’s not a full question but Eduardo understands, nods quickly, and watches as Mark settles into the space beside him. He’s very careful not to touch Eduardo in the process and even once he’s still he holds himself several inches apart, like he thinks Eduardo will shrink away or possibly shatter at contact.
So when Mark turns to look at him, Eduardo shifts his body so that he is more or less curled against Mark’s side, resting his head on Mark’s shoulder and breathing out heavily, counting breaths and trying to remember to inhale. He can feel Mark relax against him, bringing up a hand and cautiously rubbing circles into Eduardo’s back.
And it feels good, the contact… Eduardo wasn’t sure that it would; he was worried that it would make him oversensitive and twitchy. But it doesn’t; it feels almost reverent and somehow tremblingly beautiful. He hasn’t touched someone in so long (well, at least in a way that wasn’t fucking), and not like this.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. It’s probably an embarrassing amount of time, if he’s honest with himself, because it takes a while before he feels whole enough to gather his limbs back together and sit on his own.
Mark looks at him questioningly, like he wants to know what’s going on in Eduardo’s head. He exhales and tries to meet Mark’s unflinching gaze. The blue eyes steady him, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse.
“I need to call. I just… I’ve been a mess and tonight I almost, I almost…” his breaths come too fast for a second and he hiccups with it, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lower lip so hard he can taste coppery blood.
In the space between them, Mark fumbles for his hand and grasps it tightly, lacing their fingers together. Eduardo’s eyes fly open in surprise and he turns to look at Mark head-on.
“I know,” Mark says simply, nodding, giving Eduardo’s hand a squeeze.
And it is that which gives Eduardo the courage to look into Eduardo’s eyes and say, “I need help.”
Somehow, the world doesn't end. He doesn't feel his father's disapproval radiating at him from thousands of miles away, and Mark doesn’t look at him any differently, and he doesn't even feel any weaker. If anything, he feels lighter.
Mark shrugs in the same matter of fact way he always did. "So call," he says. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Eduardo looks down at where their hands and twined together, and he squeezes back. He raises his other hand, and dials with shaking hands.
Thankfully, she picks up at her home number. Eduardo can’t remember the particulars of the conversation, but he knows they talk for about half an hour, and afterwards, Eduardo doesn't feel as scared anymore. She's just a person, and she's nice, and she sets him up for an appointment tomorrow afternoon. Mark holds his hand through the whole thing.
When he hangs up, he feels exhausted. Mark is looking at him, relieved and proud but also exhausted, and Eduardo smiles at him and says, "Thank you."
It is a real smile, not forced or self-deprecating or guilty. Mark smiles back, easy but wide, and says, "You needed someone."
“Yeah, I did,” Eduardo admits, tamping down on the words he really wants to say. Looking down at where they are still holding hands, he hopes that somehow Mark knows he means: I didn't need just anyone; I needed you.
Mark yawns, and Eduardo laughs a little. Mark blushes and mutters, "Shut up."
"You can go home, if you want," Eduardo tries, because Mark has done a lot, he's done so much, and Eduardo couldn't ask him for more.
Somehow Mark seems to know, like he can sense the underlying fear in the statement. "Don't be an idiot," he shoots back just as quickly. His tone isn’t cutting in the least, but instead understanding and insistent. "I'm not leaving."
Eduardo knows that expression of Mark's and remembers the determination that always accompanied it, so he doesn't try to convince him anymore. "Okay," he allows.
Mark smiles at him, standing up and using their clasped hands to pull Eduardo up too. He leads them over to the couch and collapses into it, dragging Eduardo down with him. They sit on adjacent cushions, bodies apart but hands still tightly laced together even as they both drift into sleep.
//
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