I'm Alright (I Just Forget You All the Time) (3/4)
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | ART + FANMIX
When Eduardo wakes, he has a crick in his neck from sleeping in such an uncomfortable, awkward position. He blinks awake slowly, feeling a little bit gross from sleeping in his clothes, but then last night comes rushing back and he doesn’t know how to feel.
From the bathroom, Eduardo can hear the soft echo of Mark’s voice. He focuses a little and realizes that Mark is wrapping up a conversation on the phone; from his tone, Eduardo guesses it’s probably with Chris. He can’t decipher the words, but soon there is the click of the doorknob and Mark walks out.
He stops in his tracks and blinks a little at the sight of Eduardo sitting up on the sofa. “You’re awake,” he says.
Eduardo’s nervousness comes rushing back all of a sudden, and he clasps his hands together to fight it off. “Um, yeah.” Mark gives a jerky nod and Eduardo wonders how he managed to fuck this up.
“Sorry, I can-um… I can act like I’m still asleep if you wanted to… you know… leave,” he says, forcing the words out.
Mark’s brow furrows, obviously confused. “Why would I want that?”
Eduardo blushes, worrying at his lip and shrugging. Mark smiles at him, and it helps Eduardo put his fears at ease.
“I do have somewhere to be though,” he says. Eduardo freezes. Mark sees it immediately and start sputtering. “No, not now, just-I have to be somewhere this afternoon. Um. We could split a cab? On the way to your appointment?”
Eduardo nods immediately, and Mark looks much more at ease. He’s not used to being around Mark anymore; he can’t read him at all like he used to. “Yeah. That’s, um. Thanks.” Mark shrugs again like it’s nothing. Eduardo stands up and smoothes out his shirt. “Let me just get ready and then we can go. Help yourself to anything,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchen. Mark nods, and Eduardo slips into his room and tries to figure out why his heart is beating so fast.
//
The cab ride is mostly uneventful. They sit in relative silence the whole time, with Mark looking out the window and Eduardo trying not to worry obsessively about the appointment.
But the quiet isn’t weird.
There is this… moment, though. They’ve said their brief goodbyes (since apparently they don’t know how to be around each other now, when they’re not in crisis mode or screaming at each other), and Mark is turned to leave until all of a sudden he turns back and looks at Wardo.
“You know, I mean it.”
Eduardo blinks, because he has no idea what Mark is talking about. “What?”
Mark tightens his hand where he’s gripping the top of the car door, and Eduardo can see it go white-knuckled. Mark swallows, and then tries again. “What I wrote on the back of the business card. Wardo, I… I mean it.”
Eduardo can hear the words coming out of his mouth, and he understands them-after all, Mark came, he’s here, so of course he means it-he just feels like Mark is trying to communicate something to him underneath the surface, and he’s not getting it. But he knows anyway, because Mark is looking at him desperately, like he really needs Eduardo to hear him on this.
Mark’s eyes are squeezed shut, as if this is frustrating or difficult for him. When he opens them, his voice is even and controlled, though the edge of pleading to it is still audible. “And if you ever… again… I’ll be there too. You know that, right?”
Comprehension dawns on Eduardo’s face, and he understands what Mark is trying to say. He’s saying I want to do better this time and you know you can come to me and, to use an old phrase, I’m the guy who wants to help.
And Eduardo can’t help it, he fucking beams at Mark. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little bit breathless. “Yeah, okay.” It feels like a revelation.
He sees his own expression reflected back on Mark’s face, and he can even see Mark’s rare dimples. Something like hope surges through Eduardo, and he realizes he hasn’t felt that in a long time.
Without another word, Mark steps back and closes the door of the taxi. He stands on the street and watches it pull away, and Eduardo tries not to smile shamelessly in the backseat.
//
"but i don't know
the nights are cold
and i remember warmth
i could have sworn
i wasn't alone..."
//
The therapist is a lovely woman by the name of Elaine Irvine. She’s probably in her early forties, with dark hair and laugh lines and understanding eyes. She asks him to sit down and lays out the rules for him: if anything ever comes up that he doesn’t want to talk about, all he has to do is say so, if he ever has any questions for her then he should feel free to ask them and she’ll do her best to answer, and lastly, she really wants him to feel comfortable and just view their session as a normal conversation.
“So,” she finishes, spreading her hands. “Tell me about yourself.”
Surprisingly, Eduardo finds that he does.
He talks about growing up in Brazil and loving it there, and then moving to Miami and hating it, about his father and mother and their expectations, about Harvard and much he loved it, about Singapore and San Francisco and his job.
Elaine-who immediately corrects him when he calls her “Mrs. Irvine”-asks him to expand here and there but mostly just listens. Sometimes she asks a question or two that will make him pause and force him to think, but it’s nothing too deep and Eduardo breathes easier.
About halfway through the session when there is a pause in conversation, Elaine asks cautiously, “Do you want to talk about why you called?”
This part is harder. He tells her sparingly about his role in Facebook, the dilution, and the depositions, before launching into all of the shit he’s been through in the past months. Eduardo leaves nothing out-the guy who hit him, the drugs, his arguments with Chris and Mark and Dustin, his realization in the club’s bathroom-it’s all in the open now. He doesn’t look at the clock, but Elaine told him last night she would clear her schedule when he told her the thoughts he was having and how serious it was. It feels like a long time and by the end his voice is hoarse from talking. Elaine doesn’t interrupt once, just nods in the appropriate places and gets up to get him a bottle of water at one point, like somehow she knows he just needs to get it all out.
When he finally makes it to last night, she stops him. “You called Mark?” There’s no inflection in the statement, but Eduardo thinks she’s probably surprised. He’d have been surprised if their places were reversed.
He nods.
“And he came?”
Eduardo nods again.
“Why do you think he did that?”
Eduardo’s taken aback by the question, and stares open-mouthed at the floor, struggling for an answer. In the end, the best thing he can do is shrug, clueless. They look at each other silently for a few moments before Eduardo continues.
Just as he runs out of things to say, Elaine looks at her watch. “The session’s just about over, Eduardo. Any questions for me?”
He pauses, because he does have a few, but he doesn’t want them to come out rude. “That’s it? You don’t want to, like… give me advice, or anything?” He winces immediately, because somehow that still came out as impolite.
But Elaine laughs. “This isn’t a formal session, but do you want my advice?” Eduardo nods vigorously.
“I think that you should probably remain celibate for a while. It seems like you don’t like the way sex is making you feel right now, and if it’s making you suicidal-” Eduardo flinches at the word, because even though he knows it’s true he doesn’t like it. Elaine sees this immediately and corrects herself. “-making you feel imbalanced, then maybe you need to take a step back and go without for a while, until you feel ready to handle the emotions it gives you. But if you were my patient, I’d also recommend that you spend more time building relationships. Go out with friends or coworkers, even date if you feel so inclined. Think about the people in your life and what they mean to you, what expectations they have for you, and you of them. Consider your expectations for yourself.”
She looks at him with carefully assessing eyes and smirks a little. “I know it’s a lot, but I think it will help.” Eduardo nods seriously, and resolves to try.
Elaine looks like she sees this in him, and then adds, “Eduardo, would you like to consider seeing me on a regular basis?”
He sighs. He knew this question would come, and going into it he thought he would say no. But fuck, this actually has made him feel a lot better. “I think-I think I would,” he decides. It certainly can’t hurt.
“Good,” she says, smiling at him, and turning to her appointment book. She sets him up for appointments twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, and as he’s at the door about to leave, she says, “Did you have any more questions?”
Eduardo hesitates. He does have one, but he’s not sure if he should ask it or not. Finally he just gives up the inner debate and goes for it. “How do you know Chris?”
Elaine smiles. “I’ve sort of become Facebook’s go-to shrink,” she says with a shrug.
Eduardo feels like there’s more to the story there, but doesn’t push it. “He seems to think very highly of you, for what it’s worth.”
She laughs. “Oh, it wasn’t always that way. The first time we met he absolutely grilled me.”
The thought makes Eduardo smile. “I’ll bet,” he replies, because yeah, he can totally picture that.
Elaine shrugs with a grin, like so what, I can take it. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Eduardo. Be good to yourself.”
Oddly enough, he feels like that might be possible. He’s not fixed, not by a long shot, but it’s a start.
//
Three months later, Eduardo’s doing pretty well.
He’s still seeing Elaine twice a week, and he’s still surprised to find how helpful it is. Her advice is always enlightening and it’s also good just to talk to someone who he knows isn’t going to judge him or seem disappointed.
He occupies his nights better now. He hangs out with coworkers-they even go to bars together, but since he’s with them he doesn’t even feel any temptations, not really-or he works (but not so it’s killing him, not anymore), he’s also taken up jogging now, and returned to one of his original beloved hobbies: the weather.
Thinking about expectations went a long way. It’s helped him a lot. Eduardo’s started to make peace with the idea of his father (though not his father himself, there is too much history there for the relationship to be repaired in three months). He’s also apologized to Chris and Dustin and things seem fine with them… The three of them have hung out a few times. Dustin is back to his usual, happy-go-lucky self, and Chris is cautiously optimistic. So that’s a win.
It’s pretty freeing to realize what you expect from people, to be honest. Eduardo likes knowing where he stands with people. After Elaine’s suggestion, he even made up a list of people and wrote down expectations beside them. It may have been a little literal, but it was good to see it written down like that, in black and white.
The only thing is Mark. Beside him, all Eduardo has is a question mark.
For a lot of reasons.
He hasn’t seen Mark since that night-well, day-and he can’t figure out why.
He’s not blaming Mark either. He knows if he wants to see Mark, all he has to do is pick up the phone and call, but every time he does, he just can’t bring himself to go through with it.
Eduardo thinks part of it was the lingering awkwardness between them on that taxi ride. He didn’t like it. It made his fingers itch and his brain spin circles. He doesn’t want that to happen again.
But he would be lying to himself if he didn’t say that part of it is that his final memory of Mark is perfect, Mark looking at him so happy and Eduardo feeling so good for the first time in such a long time. And honestly, he doesn’t want to ruin that.
To make things even more complicated, the one part of Elaine’s advice he hasn’t taken is the dating thing.
Mark’s words, “I still care about you”, still ring around in his brain at the most random moments, and when he thinks about Mark holding his hand that night he catches his breath.
Eduardo wants those things to mean something, and if they turn out to be less than what he wants, he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.
So, as old-fashioned and weird as it is, Eduardo is sort of saving himself (oh god, it sounds so Victorian) for Mark. And the longer he waits to do anything about it, the more ridiculous everything is.
Everything comes to a head when he sees pictures of Mark and some guy in a gossip magazine.
He’s at the dentist, minding his own business and flipping through People with some sort of morbid curiosity, and then bam-there is Mark, strolling down the sidewalk with some random guy, smiling unguardedly and laughing. They aren’t holding hands or anything so obvious, but there is very little space between their bodies, like on the next step their shoulders would probably bump together playfully and Eduardo feels sick.
Miraculously, he makes it through his dentist appointment without vomiting.
When he goes home he finds the pictures online because he’s a masochist, and for the first time he feels like he could regress. He feels angry and reckless and he just wants to go out and fuck something hard and without restraint.
The worst part is that he has no right to be angry, because Eduardo had his chance and now it looks like he blew it. He has no claim on Mark, no matter how much he may want to. All he’s ever done is held Mark’s hand.
It’s painful because he hadn’t forgotten these feelings, they have this unwanted familiarity to them, but he hadn’t felt them in so long that he’s disappointed in himself.
But he wants so badly not to slip backwards, not after all this hard work and time, so he tries not to distract himself. He watches the weather channel and analyzes the patterns, reads a chapter of a book, makes dessert-nothing works. Eduardo still wants to do something stupid.
His mind can’t help remembering the last time he saw Mark, the way he’d said, “And if you ever… again… I’ll be there too,” and it gives him the reason he needs to grab for the phone.
The phone rings four times, and Eduardo has to count in his head to distract himself from hanging up. When Mark finally does pick up, there is still silence and Eduardo's definitely worrying at this point.
It's not for very long-maybe ten seconds-and then there is a fumbled sound and some arguing in the background before Mark's voice finally breaks through. "Wardo?" he says. It sounds worried and Eduardo immediately feels shitty for calling, because this is not that big of a deal.
"Yeah, hi," he says sheepishly. "I was just-"
"Is everything okay?" Mark asks again, still in that same scared tone.
Eduardo exhales. "Everything's fine Mark, I was just feeling... I don't know, like before-"
Mark makes a sound like an angry growl and Eduardo immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say.
"No, no-not as bad or anything like that, but... I was kind of getting in my own head a little and was wondering if you could… I don't know. Distract me?" he finishes weakly, feeling like the silliest person on the planet.
But when Mark replies, he just sounds relieved. "Yeah, of course," he says immediately, like he's not at all thrown or confused by the situation, like it’s a given.
And then Eduardo is off, rambling at miles a minute. "Are you sure you don't mind? Because honestly, it's nothing like last time and I really could just make it through myself if you're busy or just don't want to come, it's okay-"
Mark cuts him off with an impatient groan. "Wardo, save it; I'm coming," he replies, in that no-nonsense attitude. Eduardo tries not to smile too widely at that.
"Actually," Mark continues, "There’s kind of a perfect place halfway between us, if you're up for it."
His tone is a little unsure, but Eduardo goes right along. "Of course, I'm up for anything," he says with an exhausted laugh, knowing he probably sounds too excited but not really caring. "What is it?"
Mark tsks at Eduardo, informing him with an edge of laughter in his voice, "I don't want to spoil the surprise." Eduardo rolls his eyes and tries not to be overly pleased. "I'll text you the address," Mark tacks on, and then they exchange goodbyes and hang up.
It's only after the fact that Eduardo considers how natural and easy that truly felt.
//
Mark is waiting when Eduardo’s cab pulls up, leaning against an ivy-covered fence. There’s a backpack slung over one shoulder and something about the look on his face just reminds Eduardo of Mark at Harvard, he can’t quite place why. There are some differences; Mark’s wearing a jacket instead of a hoodie, but his hands are still shoved in his pockets. He looks… comfortable, if that’s the right word. Like he belongs. Just like he belonged with that guy, Eduardo’s brain supplies unhelpfully. He can’t quite cut off the thought before it seeps in like poison.
But Mark turns, sees Eduardo, and his face breaks out into a cautious grin. Somehow, that’s what banishes the thought completely. Eduardo doesn’t understand why Mark seems to have that effect on him; he just knows that he does, and that’s all that matters.
“Hey,” he says, a little awkwardly, smiling tentatively back as he steps out of the cab. He looks around them and sees nothing, just a gate to the side of Mark. “What are we doing here?”
Mark’s smile turns into a smirk. “We’re gonna have fun, promise.” He heads towards the gate and pushes it open, walking through and waiting for Eduardo to follow. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Mark’s look just a touch uncertain, like he’s not sure Eduardo’s going to come.
But, of course, he does. He never really had any other choice with Mark, never really ever wanted one.
They walk further and further back without speaking, the only sounds the soft grass under their feet and the crickets chirping. Soon, there’s a murmur of people in the distance. Eduardo turns to him, a slightly questioning look on his face, and Mark just looks back with a spreading grin, excitement in his eyes.
At last they come upon it. There’s a group of maybe forty or fifty people, all spread out on blankets in the grass and facing a huge screen. Eduardo stops in his tracks, looking out at them, brow furrowed. “Mark, what…”
“It’s like a drive-in, but without the cars,” Mark supplies, blushing a little, looking down at his feet. “I dunno, I just thought…” he shrugs, not finishing the thought.
Eduardo turns to look at him, and he knows his face is probably lit up. “Mark, this is so cool. How did you ever find out about this?”
Mark smiles, confidence a little more evident as they continue on, trying to find a spot. “It was one of the first things Chris and Dustin and I did, that first summer in Palo Alto. Dustin found out about it-I have no idea how. They show different movies and sometimes they do double features, and it’s something we would do, just the three of us, every once in a while.”
It’s quite odd. Something in Mark’s voice sounds a little nostalgic for that time, and Eduardo knows that a while ago he would feel jealous, even hurt. But now he just feels… well, he feels happy and a little honored that Mark would take him here, which so obviously means something to him, as much as he might try to pretend otherwise. “I wish I could have been there,” he says.
He winces as soon as he says it, because that’s too much, too honest, gives too much away… But still, that’s progress. In the past, that would have been an opening line for an argument, screamed across a deposition table or a conference hall or something else equally nauseating, but now it’s just… not.
Mark knows it too, meets his gaze and there is wisdom behind his eyes, the kind that comes from having made mistakes and learned from them.
Eduardo thinks that maybe he could do something then. Apologize, maybe, or ask Mark about the guy in the pictures, or, if he wasn’t so scared, lean in and kiss him. But Mark returns his gaze to his feet and nods with a barely perceptible smile, and the moment is gone.
Eventually they find a semi-secluded spot where they can still see. Mark pulls a blanket from his backpack, spreading it down on the ground for them to sit on. He also pulls out a pack of Red Vines, which makes Eduardo laugh so much he can’t breathe for a full five minutes while Mark pouts beside him, petulant and entirely unmeant. Then a hush falls over the crowd and the projector starts to flicker, and a familiar green Lucasfilm shows up. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says.
He turns to Mark, who looks a little mischievous. “I thought it was funny,” he shrugs, an edge of laughter in his voice he’s trying hard to stifle.
Eduardo smiles back, poking Mark in the ribs. “You’re ridiculous.”
Now Mark is openly laughing, loud enough that the people closest to the turn around and glare. Mark scowls back at them, and they turn around looking a little afraid. But his grin returns when he looks back at Eduardo. “I haven’t changed,” he sighs, tone light and joking. It’s like it doesn’t even occur to him the other way Eduardo could take that.
But it’s okay, since Eduardo knows exactly what he means. In all the best ways, Mark hasn’t changed one bit.
//
Somewhere along the line (Eduardo has no idea when), it becomes a routine. Eduardo starts calling Mark when he’s at his lowest, and they go to dinner or a movie or just go out. And it helps. It gets his mind off whatever it’s on at the time and he has fun with Mark. Eventually it gets to the point where he and Mark are seeing each other pretty regularly, and not because Eduardo is feeling down but just because it feels like they haven’t seen each other in a while. It’s like their friendship has sprung up again right under their feet without either of them ever really noticing.
Eduardo tries not to worry about it too much, since he knows he tends to over-think things. But he has a theory. Just like their friendship fell apart under crisis, of something they made together that grew beyond what either of them ever anticipated, it took a crisis to bring them back to each other, to make them realize how much they meant to one another.
But they’re not in crisis mode anymore. Eduardo’s therapy is still continuing and he’s feeling better about a lot of things. He’s apologized to Chris and Dustin. Dustin took it easily, patting him on the back with a very genuine, “It’s whatever, Wardo. We’re fine; we’ll always be fine.” Chris was a little more cautious, asking Eduardo if he had gotten help and wanting to make sure everything was okay, but that doesn’t unsettle Eduardo one bit. That’s just Chris; it’s how he shows people he cares. He’s even hung out with them both a couple times (with Mark of course). Things aren’t like college-they’ve all grown too much for that-but it still feels like them.
Actually, Chris and Dustin find it pretty humorous that he and Mark are hanging out as much as they are.
“Dude,” Dustin tries to explain one night when Mark is stuck at the office, fiddling with some update, “you have to admit, the things you guys do are date-like activities.” He’s all drunken honesty, slurring a little and giggling somewhat through the words.
Eduardo, who’s had one drink and is far from drunk, squawks in protest and shakes his head. “We’re friends,” he says, emphasizing the word in hopes that they’ll get it. Friends is what’s important, anything else is too much in danger of breaking this, this, this thing between them again. “We hang out, it’s no big deal.”
Chris gives him very skeptical eyes, smirking a little. “Don’t you think-I mean, don’t you think that if you tried, if you guys talked--”
“I can’t do that,” Eduardo says, thinking of the picture Mark walking closely on the sidewalk with that guy (because that guy is never too far from Eduardo’s mind). “Not with Mark, not after, just, everything. I can’t ask that of him,” he decides, trying to sound as firm as possible. “I’m too screwed up. He deserves something… normal.”
Chris looks won’t meet his eyes and Dustin looks at him kind of sadly, and Eduardo doesn’t try to interpret what that means.
//
Mark is still Elaine’s favorite subject, more or less, to talk about in therapy.
Eduardo keeps her updated about everything, so it’s only natural that Mark would come up from time to time. Whenever he does, Elaine gets this super-intense look on her face; like she’s concentrating so hard on understanding that it’s physically contorting her features.
He tells her about the pictures in People, about seeing Mark so openly happy and carefree and thinking he deserves to look like that all the time and I wish I could give him that. Which, more than anything, is the sad and pathetic truth: he wants Mark to be happy more than he wants him for himself.
Elaine has that reptilian gaze of extreme focus fixed on him, and Eduardo tries not to shrink underneath it. “Why don’t you think you could give him that, Eduardo?”
Eduardo heaves a sigh and shrugs a little. It’s going to come out self-pitying and awful and weak; he can feel it. “Because,” he tries. “Mark and I have been through too much with each other. We’ve seen each other at our worst and… you can’t forget that. There’s no coming back from it.”
She is silent for a few moments, not meeting his eyes and instead doodling down on the legal pad in front of her. “When was your worst?” He makes a face at her because she knows the answer, of course, so she amends her statement. “When was your worst with Mark?”
He doesn’t really expect that one, which may be why he flinches a little bit when it’s asked. There are so many options that he can’t think straight, and just starts rambling. “God, where do I start… There’s the first fight in Palo Alto, the dilution, the depositions, the panic attack, the screaming match at the conference, after the argument with Dustin-”
“But don’t you think,” Elaine begins, cutting him off. “Don’t you think that maybe those are all high points?”
Eduardo looks at her like she’s just sprouted antlers. High points? What the hell? “Are you serious?”
She nods slowly. “The two of you have a tendency to push each other. Think of it like cause and effect. Those are low points, sure, but they’re followed by realizations and action and decisions. He’s pushed you into standing up for yourself and confronting yourself over and over again, as much as you haven’t wanted to.” She meets his gaze and she must see the pure bewilderment there, because her lips twist upward in an amused smirk. “He’s seen you at your must vulnerable and also at some of your strongest points. Isn’t that what a relationship is, after all? Finding someone who sticks with you through thick and thin? Knows the best and the ugliest of you, but loves you anyway?”
Something is stuck in Eduardo’s throat, that’s why he can’t seem to make words come out. Finally he clears his throat. “Was that rhetorical?”
Elaine laughs, bright and assured. “You wish,” she answers simply.
He sighs and tries again, goes for solemnity this time. His voice is lower because the words are more difficult to get out, even though it’s true. “Mark doesn’t love me.”
Silence fills up the room, as if they’re playing chicken and neither of them wants to be the first to break it. Finally Elaine starts over, trying a different tactic. “How do you know that, though? Have you asked him?”
Eduardo shakes his head mutely. “If he did… I would know. Mark’s not like me; he doesn’t go for caution-if he had feelings for me he would have said something.”
She gets that look on her face like she’s won. “What do we always say, Eduardo?”
He can’t help but smile; he walked right into this one. “Communication is a two way street.”
Elaine just nods at him a little proudly. “Sure is.”
//
He tries one night. They’re sprawled out on Mark’s couch. They had started out watching TV a while ago, some inane sitcom that Mark had been sure to mock and Eduardo had laughed along. But they turned it off at some point and now they’re just waxing poetic about anything and everything, staring up at the ceiling and fighting to keep their eyes open.
Mark is talking about Facebook, how big it’s gotten and how different it is now. “The interns are so young, Eduardo. It’s fucking weird, and it makes me feel so old.” Eduardo laughs lightly, because Mark may be older now but he’s still got that manic energy about him, and no one would ever dare call that old.
“I’m serious,” Mark says over the trailing end of Eduardo’s laughter. “Like, sometimes I see them and it’s hard to remember that Facebook started inside a dorm room when we were their age. It feels so far away now.”
The silence hovers between them. Eduardo is nodding even though Mark can’t see him, because he agrees. There are days when it’s hard to believe that boy who wrote the algorithm on the window is him, that they can possibly be the same person.
“I never thought it would change everything,” Eduardo admits. “Maybe it was naive of me, but-I really thought I would come out of it all the same person.”
Mark sits up and twists in his seat so that he’s facing Eduardo. “What do you mean?”
Eduardo shrugs. “A lot of things. I don’t know. When you’re a college kid you think you’ve got the world figured out, you don’t know how easily things can break and that they can’t always be put back together the same way.”
“You’re talking about us, right?” Mark asks, his voice quiet and obviously nervous, almost pinched.
“Part of it,” he continues. “Not just us, though. Mostly about me,” he laughs bitterly to himself. “I used to try and make everyone happy, all the time, and I used to be pretty successful, and now there’s just… me. I can’t do it anymore, and the people I care about deserve more than that.”
Mark makes a sound like he’s going to argue with that, but Eduardo isn’t done. “No, it’s true. I’m… I’m broken now; I’m never going to be put back together the same way, and it’s silly to pretend otherwise.”
Mark’s voice sounds darker, angry when he speaks next. “So what, you think everyone should just give up on you? Push people away in the name of saving them?” He spits the words out like they’ve left a bad taste in his mouth, and Eduardo sits up to look at him.
A scowl has settled like a thundercloud over Mark’s face, but Eduardo’s going to push back. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s my choice. All I want for them is happiness.”
“Don’t you think it’s their choice too, Wardo, whether or not they want you in their lives?”
“Who would want me?” he finishes, and the words crack in the air like a whip. Mark’s eyes widen and something sad settles into his eyes.
Eduardo breaks the gaze they’ve been holding. He’s never seen pity in Mark’s eyes and he doesn’t want to, not from the one person who always knew how to help him, how to keep him on the right track, who didn’t give up on him or act disappointed. He doesn’t think he could take that.
“Wardo-” he tries, but Eduardo’s already pushing off the couch and heading from the door, something hot prickling behind his eyes. He would reply-apologize, maybe-but he doesn’t trust what he might say.
He slams the door behind him and thinks that in the end, it’s for the best.
//
Mark sends him voicemails and text messages and emails constantly the next week. Eduardo deletes everything without even opening them.
But, because he’s a glutton for punishment, he goes online and finds the pictures again, just to remind himself what Mark deserves, what Mark can have without him. And he finds even more, pictures of Mark with other people. Colleagues, friends, potential boyfriends-anything’s possible. Besides, what they are doesn’t really matter.
What matters is the expression on Mark’s face, the unguarded happiness that lights up his features. Mark has never worn that look with Eduardo; the closest they’ve come are shy, uncertain smiles.
He tells Elaine all this in their next session. He also tells her about trying to talk to Mark and walking out.
“I just…” he tries. “I don’t want that from him. I don’t want his pity, or his sympathy, or his anything-I just want him,” he explains, looking up helplessly, trying to search Elaine’s carefully blank face for any hints, and of course, finding none. “I wish I could make him understand,” he finishes, looking back down at his hands.
There is silence for a moment, and then Elaine is leaning forward and taking his hands. He almost starts at the contact, because that’s never happened before, but then he looks up at Elaine. Her face is anything but carefully blank now.
“Honey,” she begins, her tone indulgent with a touch of exasperation. “I need you to hear what I’m saying, okay?”
Eduardo nods, even though he still has basically no idea what’s going on. She takes a deep breath, but she’s still fighting a smile and looks full to burst with whatever she’s about to say.
“Talk to Mark.”
Eduardo moves to interrupt immediately, because he just did that, but she shakes her head before he can.
“No, talk to him. Let him talk back. Really listen to what he’s trying to say. He may surprise you.”
And Eduardo… has absolutely no idea what to do with that. Because Elaine is looking at him like she’s trying to communicate something really important, and Eduardo wants to understand, he really does, and he’s nodding like he gets it, and he’ll try, but-what?
“I’ll try,” he promises, nodding a little more. “I promise, I’ll try.”
Elaine sighs as she sits back in her seat, rolling her eyes a little fondly like she knows he doesn’t get it. “That’s all I ask.”
//
Turns out, though, he just can’t seem to work up the courage. There are a couple times when Chris and Dustin invite him out, and Eduardo knows that Mark will be there too, but he just… he can’t.
Besides, the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he is about how he acted the last time he saw Mark. It made sense at the time, but now he’s just gathering more and more regrets about it. In the logical part of his brain he knows that’s probably a good reason for seeing Mark, but at the same time, he wants to draw this out a little longer. He doesn’t want Mark to look at him differently, he doesn’t want him to realize how truly fucked-up he is, that he’s getting better but he’s still a long way from fine; he doesn’t want Mark to know how he looks at that photograph with such jealousy and envy and want.
So he settles for a phone call.
Phone calls are easier. There is no face-to-face, no eye contact, there are only words and blessedly indecipherable tones.
He dials, eventually, around nine one night after an impossibly long day at work. He’s practically delirious with exhaustion, and he’s feeling restless and jittery and fed up with being scared and a little courageous. Of course, the bravery evaporates as soon as the phone starts to ring.
Eduardo holds his breath, but there’s nothing, no one picks up. And then there is Mark’s voice, saying, “It’s Mark, leave a message,” completely blunt and easy-to-read, and Eduardo exhales. Thank god for voicemail.
Then there’s a beep and he has to speak, but he has no idea what to say.
“Um, Mark,” he tries, already shaking his head at himself. Jesus fucking christ, this is Mark, this should not be this hard. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other day, and for… uh, walking out on you like that. And ignoring your attempts to get in touch with me since then… Fuck, hearing it out loud is awful-basically, I’m sorry for being an asshole. I get it if you’re screening my call because of that, because I deserve it. But I, I want to talk to you, about what happened and also just about me, because-”
The machine cuts him off.
Eduardo curses at the phone in his hand and immediately hits redial. He’s got momentum, there’s no way he’s stopping now.
“Fuck, your voicemail cut me off. Anyway, what I was trying to say is that, I think you should know I’m really fucked up when it comes to you. Not that you’re the reason, or anything like that-I mean, we’re both the reason, really, but that’s not the point. I just mean that, it’s really confusing for me because I don’t know what I feel for you or even what I should feel for you. I don’t know if you’re a best friend or a lifeline or a… a what, but I do know that you’re the only person I can be completely honest with about that stuff. The scary stuff. And-”
There’s that fucking beep again. Godammit.
“Okay, I really hate your voicemail, okay? It sucks. But I was saying that you’re so easy to be honest with, about everything, and when I said what I said last time all I could see was pity lurking behind your eyes, and that fucking sucked. I’ve gotten that enough, and I don’t want that from you, okay? …Okay. Fuck, this next part is hard to say, because-because I’m also really jealous when it comes to you. Which, I know, we’ve never been together, not in that way, but ever since that first time I called I thought we might… I don’t know, get there? Some day? But then I saw those tabloid pictures, you probably know the ones, of you and some random guy walking down the street and-”
Another beep.
“I just, I was okay with going slow and I still am, I promise, but I do want to know that we’re going somewhere. I know I don’t deserve you because I’m a mess and you shouldn’t have to put up with me, with that, but… You said-forever ago, you said you still cared about me, and I’m like 99% sure you meant like that, like the same way I want now, but if I’m wrong… Hell, if I’m wrong you should probably just never see me or talk to me again because I’m an idiot and there isn’t a lot of dignity in these messages anyway. And I should say these things in person, I know, but I’m just bad at talking to you because your face and your eyes get involved and my thoughts turn incoherent, and… yeah. At least I’ve said it all now. Even if it is to your voicemail because I’m terrified. So.. okay. I should hang up before I get cut off again. Um. Call me.”
As soon as he sets the phone down, he is hit with a truckload of embarrassment and worry and mostly what the fuck was that.
Most of it must have been the sheer exhaustion talking; because that was a rambling mess of words he didn’t even mean to say. Not to say it isn’t all true, because it is, but he didn’t mean for it to come pouring out of him like that at the first opportunity. Fuck.
Eduardo rubs his face over his hands and then flops down on the couch, resolving not to think about it at least for the length of one nap.
//
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