fic: Run As If You Had A Choice (Mark/Eduardo, Prompt 17)
Mod's Note: Hi everyone! Springfest will officially close posting tomorrow, May 5th. Enjoy the final fanworks! :)
Title: Run As If You Had a Choice
Recipient: yellowwolf5
Prompt Number: 17
Characters/Pairings: Mark Zuckerberg, Eduardo Saverin; Mark/Eduardo; Chris Hughes
Rating/Warnings: T
Word Count: 2,248
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): While spring cleaning, Mark finds something (a sweater, a cup, idk) that used to belong to Eduardo, which makes him reminisce on the old days. With Spring in the air, and the feeling of hope for change that comes with a new season, Mark decides it's time to reach out and right some wrongs.
Notes: Thanks to the lovely A.D. for the beta!
Palo Alto, 2012
There’s a black North Face jacket that Mark finds while he annually cleans his closet for spring. It’s buried with one of the boxes he simply labeled, ‘Harvard.’ Each year, since he’s moved into his current Palo Alto residence, he opens this particular box and allows himself the smallest weakness of reminiscing.
Taking the jacket from the box’s contents, he stubbornly pretends that the garment has no effect on him while he softly shakes out the dust it is covered in, fingers curling over the material.
/
Harvard, 2003
He is not the best with dealing with emotions. There is a difference between not feeling anything and being private about them. He likes keeping things like these to himself. Mark is not a fan of being open. He even disdains the idea of emoting. He just doesn’t see a need for it. Wardo used to stare him sometimes, while he was coding and he would get noticeable goosebumps at the unwarranted scrutiny all at the nape of his neck. He did not see a point in staring at someone and waiting, almost, for something in return. Something from him. He does not know what Wardo’s motives were. Mark could never find a logical explanation for the times Wardo decided to look at him a lot more than normalcy dictates.
Eduardo has always been a little odd. Mark had chalked this up to one of Wardo’s eccentric quirks, storing that category in his mental file under everything related to ‘Wardo.’ Right now, there are complex codes begging for him to write them and his whole attention shifts back to the task at hand. There is nothing but the flurry of hands tapping away, and the faint hum of his computer in front of him working. He keeps going.
Several hours later, Mark’s body catches up with him. First, his head flares suddenly from a headache he’s developed. Second, his stomach rebels with nausea, reminding him that he’s gone too long without putting something in it. His eyes are unfocused. The symbols and letters of his latest line are laden with errors. He quickly backspaces and corrects the errors, stilling his fingers for the first time in hours. Mark glances at his bedside table. The clock reads 3:24 AM and his sight swivels to the bed. Wardo is still lying there, passed out from studying; most of his Econ books are stacked to one side while one lies on top of his thin chest. Eduardo’s hair is falling away from his face. The ridiculous hairstyle has deconstructed from its usual hold of gel. It looks softer and before he knows what’s happening Mark’s hand gets this unexpected urge to run through it to know for himself if it’s touchable as it seems. Strange. Mark has not gotten these impulses for anyone else before. He thinks the coding tear might be affecting him more than he is used to. That cannot be good, but he does not want to be thinking about long-term health. Mark stretches his back and then grabs a tuna can and bottles of beer from the fridge. The food pacifies his stomach.
When he’s done eating, exhaustion takes over and he does not put too much into what he is doing, other than giving a haphazard shove to clear the space for him to sleep on, delving into the already warm blankets and shutting his mind off. He barely registers the tanned arm shifting from underneath him before he’s surrounded by the scent of expensive cologne. Mark does not protest.
-
Warmth and safety. He recalls that feeling with clarity.
/
“Mark!” Eduardo greets, always cheerful, mouth formed in a grin, the sight of Mark bent over his computer, oblivious to the world.
“Wardo,” he acknowledges with a quick nod before going back to coding the project he’s going to call ‘CourseMatch.’ Mark’s still trying to figure out how much space is needed to hold the servers. There are a lot of students to keep track of. He wants to predict any potential problems that may come up.
“We’re going out,” he says, looking expectant. “You’ve been here for four whole days. I don’t even think you went to your classes,” his voice ends in disapproval.
Mark continues to work on CourseMatch. It’s not that Wardo is unwelcome in Kirkland. He actually has Mark’s dorm key because he forgets it so often. Mark just has more pressing things to think about at the moment.
Eduardo shakes his head. “You’re going,” he insists, appearing by his side, hits Ctrl+S on the keyboard, and quickly shuts Mark’s laptop. He sighs unhappily, but the slight quirks of his lips give him away.
-
The party was lame, but Wardo being there made it bearable.
/
Depositions, 2008
There are words that speak of poor control and an overflowing emotion, coming from someone he used to know.
-
“I was your only friend. You had one friend.”
-
They punch Mark in the gut every time.
/
He remembers the look on Wardo’s face, shuddering with barely concealed rage, and…
The truth is: Eduardo failed to bring in investors. He failed to bring revenue and he wasn’t committed to the company. For months, Mark tried to get him to the same city he was in and Eduardo never showed up until Mark started to seriously consider cutting him out. He wasn’t going to continue to be a part of something great that his best friend didn’t understand or didn’t bother to understand because Mark cared about this project a lot. It wasn’t just some simple college idea. It was a life-changing concept instead: taking the entire college experience and putting it online. Mark can still experience the bubbling excitement that threatened to overwhelm his limbs-that he tried to repress, but Eduardo always saw right through him, looking at Mark in shy enthusiasm.
/
Facebook Offices, 2012
“Chris?” Mark asks one day at the offices, uncharacteristically looking away from his laptop, mind no longer on code.
Chris looks up from stacks of papers that he was dropping off, “Yes?”
There’s silence and then Marks blurts out, “I think I loved him.”
“Oh, Mark,” Chris says, face lighting up with understanding in his features, “I always thought you did. Dustin and I had assumed, but we were never sure.”
“I don’t know what to do with this knowledge,” He admits, looking lost.
“Mark, talk to him. This is going to sound clichéd, but you won’t know until you reach out and tell him how you feel, and please, do this in person.”
Chris’s advice almost convinces him to do what he wanted Mark to do.
Almost.
/
He decides on an email at first, still afraid of rejection and too much past bad blood.
Opening a browser, he logs on to his email and writes.
Dear Eduardo,
I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do you still ever think about me? I think about you.
Mark
He hits send, letting the burning hope that tightens around his chest loosen a little.
-
Over the next couple of weeks, he mulls over it-lets the idea simmer in the background of coding marathons, while Chris’s firm voice tells him to make the right gesture.
Sick and tired of his friend’s nagging and persistent tone, he books a round-trip flight to Singapore.
Mark only packs a toothbrush, a spare change of clothes, and pair of underwear. Despite the doubts, he knows he wants Wardo, has always wanted him.
Yes, Facebook expanded and Eduardo hadn’t seemed like the right CFO, but Mark hadn’t really given him a chance to prove himself. When Mark had begged Eduardo to come out to California, what he had really meant is I need you here with me. It doesn’t feel right without Wardo around, like the dynamic’s different, and Mark wants things to be how they were before.
He had told Wardo he needed him there, and now Mark realized he had actually meant something else entirely: “I love you.” Back then if he had said those words, he can’t help but think it would have mattered; it would have made a difference, but there’s really no use in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ Hindsight is always perfect. Reality has flaws and Mark needs to accept that he had made the best business decision he could at the time, and he also had been too stubborn to listen to what Eduardo had been trying to do. Mark could have handled the situation with Eduardo better. He can admit that now.
Mark’s no longer nineteen: young, driven, and overconfident in his genius. Important things like losing your best friend (that could have been more); his personal ‘one that got away’ actually got fed up with his shit and left. Feeling hurt about Wardo’s actions, and seeing his expressive eyes go cold is still a punch to the gut, such an unsettling conflict. Emotions are such a bitch. He’d rather not deal with them, but he’s finding that they won’t always stay hidden.
It takes a lot to plunge forward, but he has to. For once, it’s not about Facebook. It’s about what Mark had and lost, what he’s attempting to get back.
The fears of not being enough and past sins can haunt him forever, but what doesn’t fade in his mind is one sentence he means.
Wardo’s everything.
Mark looks out at the clear, glass windows of his office walls. Spring weather is painting the Palo Alto area into a pleasant temperature. A cool breeze compels the trees to sway forward and back, while inside his courage swells, drumming a force that can’t be stopped.
/
Singapore, 2012
There is no time to think about whether his rash plan will work.
Mark knocks on Eduardo’s door.
“What are you doing here?” Shock and anger cloud Eduardo’s face when he opens the apartment door.
“Wardo,” Mark echoes, carefully reaching out for him by the wrist. He can’t back down now. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I don’t want to make them anymore. I know what I did. The worst part was seeing you hurt. At the time, I didn’t…” he pauses, “Cutting you out wasn’t the right thing to do. I came for you. To see if-
“To see what? I can’t believe that after all this time you’d fly here.”
“I had to. It was the only way to make you understand.”
“Is this your idea of an apology? If it is, you should leave. ‘Do you even still think about me?’ Do I still-what right do you have asking me that?”
His expressive brown eyes are furious with an undercurrent of emotion.
“And do you?”
“No, you don’t get to ask me this,” his voice, strained.
“Don’t do that.”
Eduardo looks confused.
Desperate words fill him. His mouth stumbles out, “Act like I don’t I mean what I say. I am sorry. Please, I love you. I’ve always been. I didn’t realize it before. You left and I didn’t stop functioning or something equally ridiculous, but it wasn’t the same without you around.”
He surprises Mark by asking him next, “What makes you think we could ever work?”
“Because I’m a different person. I’m trying to be better.”
Eduardo stares at Mark for a long time, considering, and finally says, “Give me time. I’m not saying no.”
Mark accepts, “Okay.”
-
5 months later…
Palo Alto, California
“Eduardo?” Mark calls out with confusion at the front door of his home.
It’s raining outside and Eduardo’s drenched. The scene gives Mark a sense of déjà vu.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here in California with me,” Mark spits out while he has the chance.
“You never called even though I know you probably have my new number. Why didn’t you?” he questions.
“I was giving you time.”
“Don’t you think five months is too long?”
“Not if you needed it. I didn’t want this if you didn’t want it too.”
His hands appear to be shaking beneath the familiar worn black fabric.
“Hey, is that my jacket? I thought I lost it years ago,” Eduardo says in amazement.
“I’ve kept everything that was important,” he breathes out, stripped down, raw, like a piece of him is split open. There’s a big part of him that is afraid and another is traitorously encouraged.
Eduardo digests that information. That would mean that he’s important to Mark somehow.
Eduardo gently places both of his hands on Mark’s face, lifting his chin to look at him directly.
“I forgive you, you know,” he whispers. “And Mark, I know I’ve hurt you too. It took me a while to figure out that you weren’t all to blame. We were both stupid and angry, didn’t know everything like we thought we did. I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me and for not coming out to California earlier. You should know that.”
By the end, his speech becomes emphasized.
“Okay, yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mark replies, heartfelt, while cool relief spreads through his system.
The past unsaid things seem to wash away between them.
Mark uses his mouth to bridge the gap that lies between, feeling they have waited too long to get this right. ‘And now we can have it,’ Mark thinks dazedly, pulling Wardo toward him even more, trying to convey, ‘I love you,’ with every single press of his lips. Eduardo responds in kind.
Title: Run As If You Had a Choice
Recipient: yellowwolf5
Prompt Number: 17
Characters/Pairings: Mark Zuckerberg, Eduardo Saverin; Mark/Eduardo; Chris Hughes
Rating/Warnings: T
Word Count: 2,248
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): While spring cleaning, Mark finds something (a sweater, a cup, idk) that used to belong to Eduardo, which makes him reminisce on the old days. With Spring in the air, and the feeling of hope for change that comes with a new season, Mark decides it's time to reach out and right some wrongs.
Notes: Thanks to the lovely A.D. for the beta!
Palo Alto, 2012
There’s a black North Face jacket that Mark finds while he annually cleans his closet for spring. It’s buried with one of the boxes he simply labeled, ‘Harvard.’ Each year, since he’s moved into his current Palo Alto residence, he opens this particular box and allows himself the smallest weakness of reminiscing.
Taking the jacket from the box’s contents, he stubbornly pretends that the garment has no effect on him while he softly shakes out the dust it is covered in, fingers curling over the material.
/
Harvard, 2003
He is not the best with dealing with emotions. There is a difference between not feeling anything and being private about them. He likes keeping things like these to himself. Mark is not a fan of being open. He even disdains the idea of emoting. He just doesn’t see a need for it. Wardo used to stare him sometimes, while he was coding and he would get noticeable goosebumps at the unwarranted scrutiny all at the nape of his neck. He did not see a point in staring at someone and waiting, almost, for something in return. Something from him. He does not know what Wardo’s motives were. Mark could never find a logical explanation for the times Wardo decided to look at him a lot more than normalcy dictates.
Eduardo has always been a little odd. Mark had chalked this up to one of Wardo’s eccentric quirks, storing that category in his mental file under everything related to ‘Wardo.’ Right now, there are complex codes begging for him to write them and his whole attention shifts back to the task at hand. There is nothing but the flurry of hands tapping away, and the faint hum of his computer in front of him working. He keeps going.
Several hours later, Mark’s body catches up with him. First, his head flares suddenly from a headache he’s developed. Second, his stomach rebels with nausea, reminding him that he’s gone too long without putting something in it. His eyes are unfocused. The symbols and letters of his latest line are laden with errors. He quickly backspaces and corrects the errors, stilling his fingers for the first time in hours. Mark glances at his bedside table. The clock reads 3:24 AM and his sight swivels to the bed. Wardo is still lying there, passed out from studying; most of his Econ books are stacked to one side while one lies on top of his thin chest. Eduardo’s hair is falling away from his face. The ridiculous hairstyle has deconstructed from its usual hold of gel. It looks softer and before he knows what’s happening Mark’s hand gets this unexpected urge to run through it to know for himself if it’s touchable as it seems. Strange. Mark has not gotten these impulses for anyone else before. He thinks the coding tear might be affecting him more than he is used to. That cannot be good, but he does not want to be thinking about long-term health. Mark stretches his back and then grabs a tuna can and bottles of beer from the fridge. The food pacifies his stomach.
When he’s done eating, exhaustion takes over and he does not put too much into what he is doing, other than giving a haphazard shove to clear the space for him to sleep on, delving into the already warm blankets and shutting his mind off. He barely registers the tanned arm shifting from underneath him before he’s surrounded by the scent of expensive cologne. Mark does not protest.
-
Warmth and safety. He recalls that feeling with clarity.
/
“Mark!” Eduardo greets, always cheerful, mouth formed in a grin, the sight of Mark bent over his computer, oblivious to the world.
“Wardo,” he acknowledges with a quick nod before going back to coding the project he’s going to call ‘CourseMatch.’ Mark’s still trying to figure out how much space is needed to hold the servers. There are a lot of students to keep track of. He wants to predict any potential problems that may come up.
“We’re going out,” he says, looking expectant. “You’ve been here for four whole days. I don’t even think you went to your classes,” his voice ends in disapproval.
Mark continues to work on CourseMatch. It’s not that Wardo is unwelcome in Kirkland. He actually has Mark’s dorm key because he forgets it so often. Mark just has more pressing things to think about at the moment.
Eduardo shakes his head. “You’re going,” he insists, appearing by his side, hits Ctrl+S on the keyboard, and quickly shuts Mark’s laptop. He sighs unhappily, but the slight quirks of his lips give him away.
-
The party was lame, but Wardo being there made it bearable.
/
Depositions, 2008
There are words that speak of poor control and an overflowing emotion, coming from someone he used to know.
-
“I was your only friend. You had one friend.”
-
They punch Mark in the gut every time.
/
He remembers the look on Wardo’s face, shuddering with barely concealed rage, and…
The truth is: Eduardo failed to bring in investors. He failed to bring revenue and he wasn’t committed to the company. For months, Mark tried to get him to the same city he was in and Eduardo never showed up until Mark started to seriously consider cutting him out. He wasn’t going to continue to be a part of something great that his best friend didn’t understand or didn’t bother to understand because Mark cared about this project a lot. It wasn’t just some simple college idea. It was a life-changing concept instead: taking the entire college experience and putting it online. Mark can still experience the bubbling excitement that threatened to overwhelm his limbs-that he tried to repress, but Eduardo always saw right through him, looking at Mark in shy enthusiasm.
/
Facebook Offices, 2012
“Chris?” Mark asks one day at the offices, uncharacteristically looking away from his laptop, mind no longer on code.
Chris looks up from stacks of papers that he was dropping off, “Yes?”
There’s silence and then Marks blurts out, “I think I loved him.”
“Oh, Mark,” Chris says, face lighting up with understanding in his features, “I always thought you did. Dustin and I had assumed, but we were never sure.”
“I don’t know what to do with this knowledge,” He admits, looking lost.
“Mark, talk to him. This is going to sound clichéd, but you won’t know until you reach out and tell him how you feel, and please, do this in person.”
Chris’s advice almost convinces him to do what he wanted Mark to do.
Almost.
/
He decides on an email at first, still afraid of rejection and too much past bad blood.
Opening a browser, he logs on to his email and writes.
Dear Eduardo,
I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do you still ever think about me? I think about you.
Mark
He hits send, letting the burning hope that tightens around his chest loosen a little.
-
Over the next couple of weeks, he mulls over it-lets the idea simmer in the background of coding marathons, while Chris’s firm voice tells him to make the right gesture.
Sick and tired of his friend’s nagging and persistent tone, he books a round-trip flight to Singapore.
Mark only packs a toothbrush, a spare change of clothes, and pair of underwear. Despite the doubts, he knows he wants Wardo, has always wanted him.
Yes, Facebook expanded and Eduardo hadn’t seemed like the right CFO, but Mark hadn’t really given him a chance to prove himself. When Mark had begged Eduardo to come out to California, what he had really meant is I need you here with me. It doesn’t feel right without Wardo around, like the dynamic’s different, and Mark wants things to be how they were before.
He had told Wardo he needed him there, and now Mark realized he had actually meant something else entirely: “I love you.” Back then if he had said those words, he can’t help but think it would have mattered; it would have made a difference, but there’s really no use in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ Hindsight is always perfect. Reality has flaws and Mark needs to accept that he had made the best business decision he could at the time, and he also had been too stubborn to listen to what Eduardo had been trying to do. Mark could have handled the situation with Eduardo better. He can admit that now.
Mark’s no longer nineteen: young, driven, and overconfident in his genius. Important things like losing your best friend (that could have been more); his personal ‘one that got away’ actually got fed up with his shit and left. Feeling hurt about Wardo’s actions, and seeing his expressive eyes go cold is still a punch to the gut, such an unsettling conflict. Emotions are such a bitch. He’d rather not deal with them, but he’s finding that they won’t always stay hidden.
It takes a lot to plunge forward, but he has to. For once, it’s not about Facebook. It’s about what Mark had and lost, what he’s attempting to get back.
The fears of not being enough and past sins can haunt him forever, but what doesn’t fade in his mind is one sentence he means.
Wardo’s everything.
Mark looks out at the clear, glass windows of his office walls. Spring weather is painting the Palo Alto area into a pleasant temperature. A cool breeze compels the trees to sway forward and back, while inside his courage swells, drumming a force that can’t be stopped.
/
Singapore, 2012
There is no time to think about whether his rash plan will work.
Mark knocks on Eduardo’s door.
“What are you doing here?” Shock and anger cloud Eduardo’s face when he opens the apartment door.
“Wardo,” Mark echoes, carefully reaching out for him by the wrist. He can’t back down now. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I don’t want to make them anymore. I know what I did. The worst part was seeing you hurt. At the time, I didn’t…” he pauses, “Cutting you out wasn’t the right thing to do. I came for you. To see if-
“To see what? I can’t believe that after all this time you’d fly here.”
“I had to. It was the only way to make you understand.”
“Is this your idea of an apology? If it is, you should leave. ‘Do you even still think about me?’ Do I still-what right do you have asking me that?”
His expressive brown eyes are furious with an undercurrent of emotion.
“And do you?”
“No, you don’t get to ask me this,” his voice, strained.
“Don’t do that.”
Eduardo looks confused.
Desperate words fill him. His mouth stumbles out, “Act like I don’t I mean what I say. I am sorry. Please, I love you. I’ve always been. I didn’t realize it before. You left and I didn’t stop functioning or something equally ridiculous, but it wasn’t the same without you around.”
He surprises Mark by asking him next, “What makes you think we could ever work?”
“Because I’m a different person. I’m trying to be better.”
Eduardo stares at Mark for a long time, considering, and finally says, “Give me time. I’m not saying no.”
Mark accepts, “Okay.”
-
5 months later…
Palo Alto, California
“Eduardo?” Mark calls out with confusion at the front door of his home.
It’s raining outside and Eduardo’s drenched. The scene gives Mark a sense of déjà vu.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here in California with me,” Mark spits out while he has the chance.
“You never called even though I know you probably have my new number. Why didn’t you?” he questions.
“I was giving you time.”
“Don’t you think five months is too long?”
“Not if you needed it. I didn’t want this if you didn’t want it too.”
His hands appear to be shaking beneath the familiar worn black fabric.
“Hey, is that my jacket? I thought I lost it years ago,” Eduardo says in amazement.
“I’ve kept everything that was important,” he breathes out, stripped down, raw, like a piece of him is split open. There’s a big part of him that is afraid and another is traitorously encouraged.
Eduardo digests that information. That would mean that he’s important to Mark somehow.
Eduardo gently places both of his hands on Mark’s face, lifting his chin to look at him directly.
“I forgive you, you know,” he whispers. “And Mark, I know I’ve hurt you too. It took me a while to figure out that you weren’t all to blame. We were both stupid and angry, didn’t know everything like we thought we did. I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me and for not coming out to California earlier. You should know that.”
By the end, his speech becomes emphasized.
“Okay, yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mark replies, heartfelt, while cool relief spreads through his system.
The past unsaid things seem to wash away between them.
Mark uses his mouth to bridge the gap that lies between, feeling they have waited too long to get this right. ‘And now we can have it,’ Mark thinks dazedly, pulling Wardo toward him even more, trying to convey, ‘I love you,’ with every single press of his lips. Eduardo responds in kind.