Eduardo doesn’t know what part of him thought it would be a great idea, probably the part of his brain which had been soaked in tequila, but they were drunk and it’s just sex right? Sure it had been his first time but he’s not some teenage girl on prom night. It doesn’t have to be special and all that romantic bullshit. It’s sex and he’s had it now and he’ll probably have it again at some point. Other people have done it for lesser reasons just because they were drunk and they wanted to have sex with the nearest person they could find. It’s better to lose it to your best friend right? It’s not so cheap and…whorish. Like ‘okay I had sex with my best friend so we could both get rid of the pesky v-card and we wouldn’t have to think about it anymore’ kind of sex.
Except it’s all that he can think of and he can’t stop thinking about it.
He had sex with Mark.
More correctly, he asked Mark to fuck him and Mark’s eyes had widened and he looked like he wanted to ask if Eduardo was sure about it so Eduardo just asked again and Mark said yes.
(He figured it would be easier if he let Mark fuck him than asking to fuck Mark. Eduardo had been nervous, yes, but didn’t mind a bit of pain, plus, he’d been the one to finish off the bottle and eat the worm.)
It’d been convenient yes but that hadn’t been the point. The sex had been utterly mindblowingly intimate.
How could he, Mark, they think that having your best friend touch you in places where no one has would change nothing? It changes everything.
Eduardo looks at Mark and he can see where his t-shirt sags, showing off a pale strip of skin and Mark’s collarbones and he thinks, my lips have been there. He sees Mark’s fingers and he thinks, they were inside me. He looks at the world with eyes that have looked into his best friend’s when he rocks into him and he had thought in that moment, I love you. He looks at himself and he thinks, Mark changed me.
Not that anything changed, of course, in any real sense. He is still the same age as he was yesterday. They are still in Mark’s dorm. Something smells like it died in there and there are bottles and empty Red Vine packets lying around. But the fact is: Eduardo Saverin is no longer a virgin.
It happened in this room, last night, with Mark.
Maybe they should talk about it.
Like, “Mark you should eat breakfast because it’s the most important meal of the day. Oh and by the way, you still have my virginity.”
Because that’s not awkward at all.
He’s not a coward though. He’s not going to run away from it. It’s not a big deal right? He didn’t lose his virginity exactly, he…gave it away to his best friend. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
So he does try to bring it up when the pounding in his head eases a little, he’s had a coffee in him and he bought breakfast for Mark (not as a thank you or anything but he always buys breakfast for him when he gets a coffee). God it’s humiliating and he wants to find a rock somewhere and hide under it.
“So last night um…I was really drunk and you were really drunk so I think we,” Eduardo makes a vague hand motion. He wants to ask ‘was I good? Was it good for you too?’ but it’s embarrassing and Mark is just staring at him and he’s not saying anything. So Eduardo lies, “I don’t really remember.”
“We had sex,” Mark said flatly. He reaches inside the bag and puts the blueberry bagel into his mouth. “Thanks,” he says around the purple circle.
Eduardo doesn’t know if he’s thanking him for getting him breakfast or for the sex. (Are you supposed to thank people for giving you their virginity? Mark doesn’t say ‘thanks’ much either so does that mean something? Or is he overthinking it?)
Mark is typing again.
It’s not ‘I love you’ but ‘we had sex’.
Eduardo had given his virginity to Mark and that was it.
“No big deal right?” Eduardo says, trying desperately not to sound disappointed.
Mark doesn’t answer, his headphones are already plugged in and he’s coding.
(“Let’s do this. Like, together. We can help each other out.”
“What? Did you just really just suggest that we should have sex with each other? God, you’re wasted, Wardo.”
“Yeah but still. Why not? We only have to do it once and then we don’t ever have to worry about it. Look, you can fuck me okay? We already know each other so it doesn’t have to be weird and awkward and complicated. It wouldn’t have to mean anything.”
“It wouldn’t mean anything,” Mark repeats slowly, like he’s thinking the idea over.
“Seriously, we can pretend it never happened. It’s just sex, right?”
Mark is fiddling with the label of the empty bottle. “You think it’s a good idea?”
“Yeah, you’re my best friend. Just help me out here, Mark.”)
Eduardo doesn’t know what it was supposed to be like. Probably something he could forget. Maybe even a little painful. But that was what they’d tried to avoid, that’s why they did it. He knows it wasn’t supposed to be terrifying or traumatic. It also wasn’t supposed to be like a fairytale because it wouldn’t be realistic. It wasn’t supposed to be that… good. He was supposed to get rid of his virginity and have it over and done with. It isn’t supposed to be a taste of the forbidden fruit. Like something he had and then lost before he realized it. It's frustrating to know that he, for a moment, a drunken moment, he had it all. He had Mark in his arms and everything felt right.
Then he woke up to an empty bed.
For an insane moment, it felt like a one night stand. Not that he’d had one before but it’s what he imagined it would feel like. Abandoned to regrets.
And then he shook his head because the sun was coming through the windows and his head hurt. Mark had been sitting in the corner like he is now, typing and he didn’t know what to feel. Because he had, has all these feelings of want and there’s the sudden chill moving down his spine as he realizes that he isn’t going to get what he wants. Mark is wearing the same clothes as he always does, his curls a mess on his head but Eduardo wants him. And he thinks that maybe he had wanted Mark since he first met him. He wants to rewind to that moment and go and put his arms around Mark and tell him to come back to bed.
But that’s not what friends do. Not even best friends.
Wardo had put his clothes back on and went to grab them breakfast because that’s what he would normally do after a big night of drinking. Falling back on routine is easy, safe.
It's not even about his virginity. He'd kissed Mark and Mark had been inside him. They are best friends that have been through everything now. Why does he want more? What more could he want? It’s a selfish thought but shouldn’t that rock the world? Shouldn't there be an earth-shattering epiphany? It feels like he's been cheated somehow. And he hates that because yesterday night had been a gift and he refuses to regret that. He'd known what he was doing and it's not remembering that's the problem. He knows he'll never be able to forget it.
(The way Mark tastes, Mark’s skinny hips, his pale skin, the sounds he makes, the way he made him feel.)
He asked for sex and he got sex. Only now, too late, he wishes he’d asked for more.