Mark moves in when he’s six years old.
Eduardo is eight, and Mark frowns at him, eyebrows knitting together.
“I’m Mark,” he says, and his voice is clear, sure, but he’s worried - the boy’s just staring at him.
Eduardo smiles, and it makes Mark feel relaxed.
“Eduardo,” he says.
Mr. Saverin (Mark isn’t to call him Dad, not yet) puts a hand on Mark’s
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And sweet and perfect and I hate Wardo's father so much in these kind of fics.
Lovely read, thanks for sharing! :)
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