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Mark knows everyone wants to hear the big reunion story.
Mark knows that everyone just assumes there was a big reunion scene. Some kind of cathartic, brutally honest, deep conversation that involved shouting and maybe some pushing and shoving but that then ended with the two of them shaking hands and coming to a perfectly clear, mutual understanding of who and where they both are now.
But that never happened.
++
There's not really a story. About two years after the settlement, Dustin has a housewarming party when he buys this amazing new place in San Francisco. Eduardo and Mark end up making small talk over a beer and, well, the small talk that night sort of never stops. Mark waits for it to get awkward or even trail off, but they keep finding things to talk about.
Eventually, Chris comes over and clamps a hand on Mark's shoulder, nodding and smiling tightly at Eduardo as he drags Mark to a corner and whispers, "What is happening here? What the fuck are you doing?"
And Mark tells him the honest truth. "Um, talking about movies and Asian investment markets with Eduardo?"
Chris stares at him. "Mark, you can't -"
"No," Mark interrupts. "I can. We both can. We can't talk about the terms of the settlement but there's nothing stopping us from discussing The Dark Knight. So - uh - I gotta go." He moves to walk back towards Eduardo, strangely worried Chris has ruined this evening of not a big deal at all, casual, small talk.
"OK Mark," Chris is trying for conciliatory now, "if you really want to do this, maybe you and Eduardo should try having a real conversation about what happened and -"
"Unnecessary," Mark says. "we're just making small talk."
Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. "You know, this is going to come back and bite you in the ass someday, Mark," he says, his tone pained.
"Nah," Mark answers, nonchalantly, already disengaging from Chris and scanning the party to see where Eduardo is. "what's the worst that could happen?"
++
A few months later, when Mark's hacking into the TSA's high-security no fly list database, he'll have a sudden memory of this moment and almost want to laugh.
So, yeah, there's no big reunion scene. But maybe there should've been.
++
The day after the party, Mark texts Eduardo. Are we friends again now? Because he figures he might as well be direct about it and why waste time or be weird about what is the totally-normal-not-a-big-deal resuming of their friendship?
A few hours later his phone buzzes in reply. Sure, I guess. If you want to be friends again.
Why would I have talked to you at the party for two hours and then texted if I didn't want to be friends?
The response this time is instantaneous. Clearly not out of polite social nicety obligations.
Mark's maybe smiling a little at that, so he feels confident dashing off his response. Hi, I'm Mark Zuckerberg, have we met?
haha...right! well, let's try this, then. I'm Eduardo Saverin, glad to meet you.
See? No big deal.
++
"Chris tells me you and Wardo are, like, friends again or something?" Dustin asks over lunch a few weeks later, his tone walking a line between suspicious and disbelieving.
Mark swirls a french fry in ketchup and shrugs. "Yeah, we've been texting and e-mailing some and, uh, there was one phone call. It's not a big deal or anything."
Mark doesn't think to mention that the phone call lasted seven hours and they fell asleep without hanging up so when he woke up the next morning, he still had the phone pressed to his ear, with Eduardo's slight snoring on the other end of the line. Because, you know, a phone call's a phone call and all that.
Dustin stares at Mark. "I - how - please tell me this happened because you two finally sat down and really talked about everything that happened? About the mistakes you both made? About the sexual tension you always had even before -"
Before he can even think about it, Mark flings the ketchup-drenched fry right at Dustin's head.
Dustin doesn't have time to dodge but, luckily, Mark's aim is terrible and the fry goes wide, missing Dustin entirely. Dustin sighs. "So, I'll just take that as a no, then. Look, Mark, if you don't do something serious, this is going to come back and bite you in the ass someday, you know."
Mark carefully considers how juvenile it would be to fling his whole plate of food at Dustin. But then, who cares about juvenile? What about effective? Probably not very. So he might as well address Dustin's weird, totally misplaced concerns about something he clearly didn't understand in the slightest.
"No, it won't. It's not a big deal or anything."
"The cutest part is how you legitimately believe that," Dustin says, shaking his head wearily.
++
And when Mark's sending an anonymous (and, OK, fine, FAKE) to the FBI a few months after that conversation, Mark will wonder how, exactly, Chris and Dustin seemed to have all this figured out before he did.
++
So, there is no big reunion story and it's no big deal. It's just two old college friends who drifted apart now reconnecting when they find out they're in the same industry. And, yes, then the friends then discover they still have that same familiar camaraderie that allows them to talk for all hours and share minute details of their daily lives and, also, yeah, late at night, discuss deep stuff like their parents and what they want out of life.
It's just what anyone does with an old college friend. Totally normal. Totally not a big deal at all. Why's everyone so worked up about it?
++
"Sy Ablemen on line four, Mr. Zuckerberg, he says it's urgent," his assistant Janice interrupts his coding with a worried look on her face. "He said if you wouldn't get on the phone he'd come down here himself and -"
Mark waves her off. Easier to brush Sy off and get the conversation done with and then get back to coding. "Put him through."
"Mark what in the hell are you doing?" Sy's voice is furious. "I ran into Gretchen at a bar dinner last night and she told me that you and Saverin are friends again?"
"Um, aren't you my lawyer, not my social scheduler? What are you and Gretchen doing gossiping about us anyhow?"
"Gossiping! We weren't," Sy sputters. "Damn it, Mark, you both signed the papers, you both agreed to the non-disclosure settlement that could cost-"
"Yeah, we don't talk about the settlement. Or about any of that stuff, really. It's boring."
"Boring? It’s a landmark settlement when it comes to - BORING?!" Mark is worried Sy might be having a heart attack. "Saverin sued you for -"
"Yeah, yeah, I was there. That's how I know it was boring. And totally not relevant to anything now, much less our conversations. Why's everyone so interested in this anyway? We're just old college friends, catching up on -"
Sy's hysterical laughter cuts Mark off. "Look, Mark. I know your friends have probably already told you that this is going to come back and bite you in the ass someday, so just let me throw out there that the firm appreciates your business and we do, in fact, have family law counsel that specializes in pre-nups and dissolution for civil unions, both of which I think you'll need to consider since you seem to think you don't need to talk -"
Mark hangs up.
Seriously, what's with everyone?
++
"Bro," Sean says, grinning and strutting through Mark's office doors as Janice protests uselessly in the background. "I just heard the craziest shit!"
Mark sighs and pulls off his headphones. There's no dismissing Sean when he's got this look on his face. He raises his eyebrows as prompting for Sean to continue.
"I heard you and Eduardo were biffles again," Sean says, still smirking.
"We're not - what does that even mean? Are you dating a 17 year old that says that? We're friends, that's all, it's no big deal."
"Hey, sure man, whatever you say. No big deal, I get that." Sean shrugs and smiles.
"I don't understand why everyone - wait - what?"
"Friends again. Why not, right? What's the point of having some big talk about your feelings and shit? What a waste." Sean snorts with contempt. "Talking. What's that ever done for anyone? You and Saverin want to be bros again, that's cool. I mean, what's the worst that could happen, right?"
"Right," Mark says slowly. "It's not like this is going to come back and bite me in the ass someday."
"Exactly," Sean agrees. "Now ya wanna hear about the girl I learned the word biffles from?"
++
And it’s months later, as Mark is installing a very clever, totally untraceable Trojan Horse that will spam an entire office with very embarrassing pictures he'll realize this was the moment he should have really known something was wrong. Because if Sean didn't think it was a big deal, well, obviously, it had been a big deal all along.
And that was the moment that he realized it was all about to come back and bite him in the ass.
++
"Hey," Mark says to Eduardo over the phone one night, almost three months into the totally not a big deal resumption of their regular friendship, "we should, like, hang out in person sometime."
It's hour two of their phone call. Usually, like all normal friends, they have at least one night a week where they arrange for their across-the-globe schedules to line up so they can talk for a few hours at a time. Mark's sitting out by his pool, looking up at the stars and enjoying the spring evening. (not that he'd ever admit this, but it feels good to be out of his house and not staring at a computer screen. Eduardo always did manage to drag him away from coding when he needed it most and would admit it the least. See? Just like always, just like normal.)
"Yeah," Eduardo says without hesitation. "It's about time I made another visit out there to check on some investments. It'd be good to see - everyone. And, um, you can -" his voice falters a little.
Mark's heart absolutely does not hammer in his chest with a weird feeling of anticipation. Not at all.
"You can meet Ethan," Eduardo finishes.
"Who's Ethan?" Mark asks.
"Um - uh - he's - um - he's my boyfriend."
And that? Whether Mark knew it or not, that was the start of it being a very big deal.
++
"I mean, I'm totally cool with it," Mark says for the six thousandth time. "I just think he should have maybe said something earlier, you know, about liking guys?"
"Mark, I am this close to punching you in the face and I have never punched anyone in the face in my entire life," Dustin says, his voice weary.
"What? I'm saying how totally cool with this I am," Mark says.
Chris is laughing so hard he's almost rocking back and forth a little. "Flying out here for this was truly the greatest decision of my life."
The three of them are at Mark's house, waiting for Eduardo and Ethan to arrive. Mark, like a good friend would, invited Eduardo and Ethan for dinner because he was so cool with Eduardo having a boyfriend. Dustin heard about the invitation, texted Chris, and before Mark knew what hit him, the two of them had invited themselves along.
Mark blinks confusedly at Dustin and Chris. Why do they keep staring at him like that? "All I'm saying, as someone who is totally cool with all of this, is it just seems like the kind of thing you'd-"
"Mark, for fuck's sake!" Dustin interrupts. "This is exactly what we meant when we said you needed to talk to him! How could you not know? The suits, the hair, the girlfriends who were always intimidating and remote and kept him at arm's length, the way he doted on you like -"
"Me?" Mark is puzzled. "What do I have to do with all this?"
Dustin stares at him, blankly, as Chris keeps giggling.
Before Mark can say anything else, like about how this is just a regular night at home with a friend stopping by with his "significant other" (but, really, how "significant" can this guy be? Eduardo never mentioned him once in two months of conversation and there had been a lot of conversation, OK? And he'd only been dating him three months, which was right around the time Mark and Eduardo casually resumed their friendship, so how could that be significant? Really, Ethan was more like a guy Eduardo was hanging out with. That's all.) and nothing else - the doorbell rings.
They're here.
++
When Mark opens his front door he finds Eduardo clutching the hand of a very tall guy. Eduardo looks very nervous, which is weird, because what's there to be nervous about in a situation this totally normal? (And why is he holding this guy's hand so tightly? Is that really necessary?) The guy, Ethan, doesn't look nervous. He's just smiling. See? Ethan knows what's up.
"Hey," Mark says, casually, stepping out of the doorway and inviting them to step in.
"Mark, hi - hey - it's so good to see -" Eduardo's face lights up in this familiar, lop-sided grin Mark knows so well. He steps forward towards Mark and yanks Ethan along with him. It's almost like he's forgotten Ethan's there. But Ethan stumbling behind him seems to snap him back. Eduardo stops and the grin slides off his face. "Um, I mean, thank you for having us - hey - uh - oh, I mean, damn, I forgot to introduce - um - Ethan. This is, uh, Ethan."
Ethan waves with his free hand and gives Mark a smile that's just right: not too friendly but not too casual and he seems like a really nice guy and suddenly, for no reason at all, Mark hates this fucking guy.
Huh. What's that all about?
++
"I was so excited to meet all of you at once," Ethan enthuses.
The five of them are sitting in Mark's living room. Mark's sitting stiff as a board in one of his huge chairs. Eduardo and Ethan are squeezed together on a smaller loveseat, so close there's not an inch between them, which, to Mark, is practically a public display of affection and does anyone want to see that? In between them on Mark's huge couch Dustin and Chris are staring with unabashed fascination at both Mark and Eduardo.
"Yeah," Chris says, nodding in Ethan's general direction while keeping his eyes focused on Mark, "We thought it would be fun."
Dustin elbows him sharply. "We're all glad to meet you, Ethan, and it's good to - the four of us haven't, uh, hung out in a while so it's -"
Ethan just keeps smiling and nodding, friendly as ever. "Yeah, I know. I mean, I know the story and I think it's really great you're all friends again. That's a real testament to the strength of your friendship. Wardo has told me about -"
Did Ethan just say . . . Wardo?
Eduardo's face falls and Mark hears Dustin try to cover a short gasp with a fake cough. "Yes, yes, yeah," Chris interrupts, semi-babbling, his voice strained. "Strength. Friendship. Good, great."
Ethan just stares at them, seemingly becoming aware of the weird tension in the room for the first time.
Mark wants to say something to tell everyone there's no reason for tension because this is all totally normal and not a big thing, but somehow he can't get past Wardo and how wrong that is to hear Ethan just toss off and maybe Mark should stand up and say something - just so Ethan will know, just so Ethan will really know that you can't just say Wardo like it’s something everyone says, like it's not a nickname that Mark made up himself because Eddie sounded so stupid. That'd be a good friend thing to do, right? Just to let Ethan know? Yeah, totally. So, Mark will just -
The doorbell rings again.
"THANK GOD," Dustin shouts, surging to his feet before Mark can get up and, very casually, tell Ethan to never say that name or fucking else, "DINNER IS HERE! MARK, YOU'D BETTER GO PAY FOR DINNER!"
Sure, he’ll do that. And maybe on the way to the front door to pay for dinner, he'll stop and log on to his laptop for just a few minutes and take a closer look at Ethan's Facebook and see -
But then Chris is dragging him towards the door. "Yes, dinner it is," Chris shouts over his shoulder to Dustin, Eduardo, and Ethan.
"Mark," Chris whispers, "this was your genius idea, OK? So you're just going to have to get your shit together and act normal, all right?"
Act normal? What does Chris think he's been doing all along?
++
“It’s Indian food,” Mark says, setting the bags down on the dinner table.
He’d thought they were just all going to huddle over the coffee table in the living room, but Dustin had rounded Ethan and Eduardo up and moved them to what passed for Mark’s dining room, but was really just a room with a table he never used much. Chris came back from the kitchen, mismatched plates he’d managed to dig out from Mark’s cabinets, in hand.
“Indian food?” Dustin says, curiously.
“Yeah, from Singh’s. It’s my favorite place, ” Mark’s digging around in the bags.
“I didn’t even know you liked Indian food,” Dustin says with wonder.
“The curry. He likes curry,” Mark hears Eduardo half-whisper from the other side of the table.
“Eduardo, remember on the phone last week? When you said you were missing good vindaloo and naan? That it never tasted right in Singapore? Well, I thought – ”
Mark lifts a box out of the bag and holds it out to Eduardo, who is staring at him with disbelief. "You...remembered. You...were listening," Eduardo says in a breathy, happy voice that absolutely does nothing weird to Mark's heart, like make it speed up and beat triple-time. Of course he was listening, wasn't that the point of talking?
“Lamb vindaloo, the kind you were talking about." Mark shakes the box a little. "The spiciest and best in all of Palo Alto, I promise.”
Ethan, without missing a beat and smiling at Mark appreciatively, says, “Oh, that's totally cool. Thank you so much, but no thanks. Wardo doesn’t really like spicy foods, do you, babe?”
Mark, mouth gaping like a fish, is struggling through his outrage at the total falsity of this statement, when he hears a loud crash from directly behind him. Ethan and Dustin’s gazes are momentarily distracted, but Mark doesn’t look away from Eduardo and, he notes, Eduardo doesn’t look away from him either.
“Sorry – it’s – a plate. No big deal! I just dropped a plate,” Chris apologizes too loudly.
As if that’s gonna distract Mark.
++
“I – you – he – why would – that’s a – ” Mark, paying no heed to his smashed dinner plate, finally finds the right words. “That’s a lie. Tell him you lied, Eduardo.”
He sets the vindaloo down and looks right at Eduardo, not even sparing a glance for Ethan.
“I– it wasn’t a lie, per se, it’s just … Ethan doesn’t really do spicy food,” his voice is sheepish. “So, I didn’t want him to feel like he had to eat it just because I like it, just for me, so I told him that I didn’t … it wasn’t a lie.”
Now Eduardo is being defensive, but Mark knows what a lie is, OK?
But Ethan doesn’t seem to mind the lie, not at all. His breaks out in a big, soppy grin instead and coos, “Oh, baby. That’s adorable.”
Then he leans right over and in front of Mark and the whole world, presses a quick, closed mouth kiss to Eduardo’s mouth.
There’s another loud crash behind Mark. “Will you look at that,” Dustin shouts, “Chris dropped all five plates he was carrying! Wow! Let’s all look at this accidental mess!”
And this is the moment, as a totally regular and normal friend who is, in no way, jealous, Mark decides he is going to destroy Ethan.
No big deal.
++
"I can't believe I actually lived through that," Dustin says, dazedly.
"Did we survive? Is it over?" Chris's voice is disbelieving.
"Why would Eduardo drag Ethan off like that right after dinner? They didn't even stay for the movie, which sucks, because I paid some guy a ton of money to make me a studio quality cam version of this movie Eduardo mentioned he wanted to see." Mark looks questioningly at Dustin and Chris, who are slumped on his couch.
"Chris, I need you to pinch me so I can confirm this is actually fucking happening."
"Dustin, I can't right now, I have to dig through my pockets to find my totem to make sure we're not being incepted right now."
"What?" Mark demands. "What?"
He barely has time to dodge the couch cushions Dustin and Chris simultaneously throw at him.
++
"I'm sorry we ran off - I mean, I'm sorry we had to leave like that," Eduardo apologizes the next week during their weekly phone call. He's back on the other side of the planet and part of Mark wasn't even expecting him to call. (Not that he broke out into an inexplicable smile when his phone lit up with the call or anything.)
"Oh, it's no big deal," Mark says.
"It was just...Ethan....um, I hadn't had spicy food in a really long time and, uh, I just had to go," he stumbles out.
"Ethan," Mark says, his voice leading, waiting for Eduardo to finish.
"Yes, thank you again for - it was nice of you to - I know it was a little -"
Mark wonders why Eduardo's so flustered.
Finally, he spits out an end to his sentence. "Ethan liked you."
Yeah, well, that's all well and good, Mark supposes, but it's not going to stop him from monitoring Ethan's credit card activity.
++
Ethan and Eduardo keep dating. Mark and Eduardo keep talking. Mark's stopped waiting for the time that Eduardo is going to quit calling, the time that he's going to say Ethan is coming over, Ethan’s spending the night, Ethan’s moving in, so we can't talk this week. That never happens. Whatever is happening with Ethan and Eduardo, Mark and Eduardo still have their at least weekly phone conversations that last for hours, they still send texts and emails, they're still your regular, average, normal friends.
Friends who never, ever, bring up one's boyfriend or even mention his name. Because, you know, with the thousands of other things they have to talk about, why would Ethan ever come up? He's just some guy, after all, it's not like he's a big part of Eduardo's life or anything. That'd be ridiculous.
++
And then, at last, is the night when it all comes back and bites Mark on the ass.
"I'm coming to California," Eduardo says that night, almost three months since he sat in Mark's kitchen and ate lamb vindaloo with a look of guilty happiness on his face.
"Oh," Mark says, completely and totally not excited in any way, "that's cool. You should come - we should hang out."
There's an endless silence on the other end of the world before Eduardo says, "Uh, well, maybe that's not a great idea this time. It's just, well, Ethan is coming too and, um, we're meeting his parents and, uh, I just wanted to tell you - um, God, fuck, I'm sorry."
Mark's blood does not turn to ice in his veins. Mark does not have to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at Eduardo Meeting his parents? You've barely been dating five fucking months! Those would be reactions indicating that this was a big deal when it absolutely was not a big deal in any way.
"Oh, that's cool."
(Mark really hates the word cool and wishes he could stop saying it.)
Anyway, it's not a big deal because, well, Ethan isn't going to be able to make the trip from Singapore to San Francisco. Mark, with the help of the No Fly list, is going to make sure of that.
Cool.
++
Kinda having an emergency in Singapore, can you do something illegal to help me?
Something illegal? Mark's not sure that's right.
But he texts back anyway.
What's up?
Something weird is going on - they took Ethan out of pre-board and are saying they need to question him?
I'll see what I can find out.
Mark eats a sandwich.
++
Not safe to text. Can you call?
Eduardo sounds harried. "Mark, thank God. Did you find anything out? This is ridiculous. We're here at the airport and they've taken Ethan off somewhere and I have to board! I can't - I already missed one flight and I have meetings and I can't just wait here all day. Did you find out anything?"
"I couldn't find out anything. I mean, I could try to do some more upper level hacks but I don't know if you -"
"No. No, don't risk it - I just - what could it be?"
"I dunno," Mark says, as if he really is mystified. "But unless it's something crazy like he's on the No Fly list, he'll be able to catch a later flight and join you. So, you might as well fly out. Like you said, you have meetings."
"Well, if you think ..."
"Do you want me to hack the United States government's high security files?" Mark asks.
"No!" Eduardo is horrified. "No, of course not! You could get in real trouble, no!"
"Well then..."
"Yeah, I'll just fly out. Ethan will ... it'll be easy for him to catch a later flight, so - I'm sure he'll understand. Thanks - I'm not even really sure why I thought to call you - but - um, thank you for the help."
Mark is absolutely not smiling from ear to ear.
"Hey, what are friends for?"
++
Eduardo calls the next night, "Ethan broke up with me!" he exclaims as soon as Mark picks up the phone.
"What?" Mark really is surprised to hear that. He expected Ethan to be upset about missing the flight and, OK, being investigated as a terrorist, but how would that lead to something extreme like breaking up with Eduardo? Who does Ethan think he is, breaking up with Mark's friend like that?
"He said - it turned out he was on the No Fly list. How crazy is that? How was I supposed to know? He was so angry I left - he said, he said, he said it was my fault!"
"Your fault?"
"Yeah, how weird is that? He kept saying he knew something like this was going to happen, that he'd tried to give me the benefit of the doubt, but he'd been waiting for something like this. And I said, 'I don't even know what that means!' and he said ‘How stupid and oblivious can one person be? Can two people be?’ So I told him he wasn't even making sense and he said I was being deliberately difficult because I didn't want to face the truth about my closest relationships, which I told him has nothing to do with him mysteriously ending up on the No Fly list, and he said he just couldn't do this anymore and he - he - he dumped me!"
"Wow," Mark says, "that doesn't make any sense. People can be so irrational about things."
"I know," Eduardo sounds just as mystified as Mark.
"So, you're just out in California alone now?" Mark asks.
"Yeah, I had meetings with investors in San Francisco today and I'm coming out to Palo Alto tomorrow morning for a few more perspectives. Ethan and I were supposed to - well, anyway, yeah, I'm alone."
Well, Mark does what any good, normal, regular friend would do.
"Do you wanna hang out?" He asks Eduardo.
"I might not be the best company. Well, um, I mean, I don't know if that's the best idea right now, uh, I - "
Mark can tell he's taken aback by the forthrightness of the request.
"C'mon," Mark says, which is practically begging if you think about it.
"Yeah," Eduardo says, his voice now steady. "OK. Yeah, definitely."
And Mark's heart does not race because it's just two friends hanging out, which is not a big deal at all.
++
Mark, this is Dustin. If you don't call me back, I am calling the police. Janice called me, frantic, and said she was worried because you called her and said you were taking two days off and not to disturb you unless the site crashed and even then, only if the first wave of programmers couldn't get it fixed. MARK, HAVE YOU BEEN KIDNAPPED BY SOMALI PIRATES?
Mark, this is Sy Ableman. I need you to call me back immediately. Your assistant, Janice, called me and said she was worried that, as your lawyers, we might need to negotiate a hostage demand soon because you weren't coming in to work for a few days? Mark, is this about Mr. Saverin? Please call me back soon.
Mark, this is Chris. Wardo's there isn't he?
++
They have a totally normal weekend as friends. They eat very spicy food and stay up late watching movies, playing video games, and talking. On Saturday, Eduardo wants to go swimming so they actually end up dunking each other in the pool. (which is what friends do, OK? And Mark doesn't know why the sound of Eduardo's giddy laughter and the feeling of Eduardo's hands holding tight to his shoulders and pushing him down gives him an erection, but he's pretty sure it was a random coincidence involving human biology.)
Eduardo spends Saturday night in Mark's guest room because it's late and they had several beers and it would be more weird if he didn't. On Sunday morning before Eduardo flies out, Mark makes sure to have bagels delivered from his favorite place (they don't actually deliver, but Mark pays them enough to get a delivery) because Eduardo says they don't do bagels right in Singapore.
Eating the bagels in the kitchen Mark says, "You know, Singapore doesn't seem to have a lot of good food."
"It's weird," Eduardo says, chewing on his bagel with a look of delight, "somehow food always tastes better here."
"Weird," Mark agrees.
++
And then everything goes back to normal. One night, Eduardo asks if they can Skype because he's too tired to talk on the phone, doesn't Mark know he's on the other side of the planet and it's night where he is?
So Mark turns on his webcam and sees Eduardo lying in his bed, shirtless, waving at Mark with one hand as he lays on his side, propped up and leaning his head on his other hand, hair messy and eyes drowsy with sleep.
For once, Mark doesn't want to talk all night. He wraps the conversation up quickly and finds himself in his bathroom, jerking off while biting down on his lip so hard he's afraid he might draw blood.
Then he lies in bed for an hour trying to figure out how he got so damn turned on.
++
It's been two months since the weekend Eduardo hung out at his house and Mark's starting to think he might suggest a visit to Singapore. Friends visit each other, after all.
First, though, he has some investor thing in New York City that's supposed to only last a day but ends up with him spending the night in the city. Of course, that results in Sean showing up at his hotel room, pounding on his door and shouting "Bitch, get out of the sweatpants, we're going out!"
Which, fine, Mark can survive one night out with Sean. He's out of town and Sean can be fun and how badly can it go?
Until he sees Eduardo, Eduardo, across the club, dancing way too closely to a huge guy Mark's never seen before.
Until Sean waves the two of them over with a big smile, "Mark, it's your biffle, Saverin!" He giggles as Eduardo and the guy start awkwardly making their way to where Sean's waving his hand like a lunatic.
And that's the start of how Jake gets investigated by the FBI.
++
"This is cool, right?" Sean shouts over the thrum of the music as Eduardo and the guy make their way over to them.
(Mark's not sure why he suddenly can't breathe, why his chest feels so tight. Is he having an asthma attack? He doesn't have asthma but maybe that's it.)
"Yeah, of course," Mark says, slightly gasping for air through what must be his first asthma attack, "it's no big deal."
++
"Saverin!" Sean shouts in a happy voice.
Eduardo is clearly flustered and unsure how to react. He stares at Sean for a few seconds, completely baffled.
"Bro, it's cool," Sean says. "Marky has told me you two are besties again so, you know, no hard feelings. We can all be adults here, yeah? So, what's up?"
"Hello?" Eduardo says, but it's really more of a question.
Mark's ready to say something casual and friendly, like, "Hey, good to see you! It's cool you're here, what a coincidence, if I knew we were both going to be in town we could have arranged dinner or something!" so he's surprised to hear himself saying, instead, "Who is that?"
He points past Eduardo to the huge guy standing behind him, who is dressed in an impeccable suit and looks like he's just stepped off the pages of a J. Crew catalog. He reminds Mark of someone, but he can't put his finger on who.
"Oh, um - uh - I didn't know you were gonna be in town or I, uh, that's why I didn't say anything, um, I mean, what are you even doing, um, I should have -" Eduardo won't meet Mark's eyes and even in the low lights of the club, Mark can see a dull flush rising in his cheeks.
The irritatingly handsome guy leans forward and gives Mark and Sean a smile that practically lights the place up. Then he sticks a hand out. "Wow, you're Mark Zuckerberg and you're Sean Parker. This is awesome. I'm Jake, Eduardo's boyfriend."
Forget asthma, Mark thinks he might have the flu, because he suddenly feels sick to his stomach and, also, he might be about to pass out.
++
Instead he drops down, gracelessly, onto the bar stool next to Sean. Sean, who loves being told meeting him is awesome, grabs Jake's hand enthusiastically. "It is awesome, isn't it?" he says smiling and nodding. Eduardo doesn't say anything, he just keeps his eyes downcast.
Mark can't seem to form any words, but it's OK because Sean and Jake are carried off in conversation as Mark and Eduardo have seemingly been rendered mute.
"So, how did you meet Saverin? Do you do business shit too?"
Jake's laugh, which sounds like bells, makes Mark's skin crawl. Could this guy possibly get any worse?
"Hardly. We met through friends. I'm terrible with business and Internet stuff. I mostly do modeling."
"That's fucking fabulous," Sean grins from ear to ear. "You're, like, Saverin's trophy boyfriend."
"Actually, we should be rivals, since I'm a Yalie. I graduated from Yale with a degree in comparative literature and French. I'm only modeling to pay the bills while I write my novel and volunteer with this community gardening program. I've gotten a few pieces published, but The New Yorker can't pay rent in New York!"
"Holy shit, are you a real person?" Sean says, teasing in his voice. He and Jake exchange knowing chuckles.
Mark's trying to focus on not throwing up all over Jake's doubtlessly expensive shoes. (This is a weird kind of flu, to have such a sudden onset of symptoms. Also, is feeling like you might cry a flu symptom? It must be.)
"So, Yale, huh, for real?" Sean asks.
"Yeah, go Bulldogs!" He gives Sean and Mark an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's like I have to say that by law as an alumni and former student athlete."
"Oh god, you've got to be kidding me!" Sean's practically hooting with laughter.
"Yeah," Jake says, reaching out and grabbing Eduardo's hand. "I rowed crew."
That's when Mark thinks to himself, flu or not, he's going to end this guy.
++
"Shots! SHOTS!" Mark shouts, pounding on the bar.
Sean jumps. "Dude, what's going on?"
The bartender has rushed over to Mark. "I want four shots of whatever the most alcoholic thing you have is. And bring a bottle of the most expensive thing you have," Mark commands.
Sean's smiling his shark-grin of delight and Jake is bellying up to the bar with a smile, pulling Eduardo along with him.
"Let's do this," Mark says, his voice grim.
"This sounds fun," Jake says sociably, just like the perfect, agreeable, superhuman jerk he is.
"Yippe ki-yay, motherfucker!" Sean crows, slamming his shot back.
++
"Where am I?" Mark mutters, groggily.
Sean's cheery voice comes from a million miles away. "Good morning, sunshine!"
Mark rubs blearily at his eyes. He searches back through his mind for his last clear memory.
At the club, Sean and Jake have each done about 15 shots and don't seem to be even buzzed. They're currently so involved in an in-depth discussion of their favorite sushi restaurants on the upper East side that they don't even notice Mark and Eduardo at the other end of the bar.
Mark's feeling pretty wasted after three shots. Eduardo must be too, because he's leaning in very closely, whispering into Mark's ear. Which is a totally normal thing a friend would do to be heard over the music in a club. So is the - well, nuzzling. It feels like nuzzling, what Eduardo is doing to his ear. And, well, that's just an inevitable consequence of the leaning in to be heard.
"I should have told you about Jake, I know, but it's only been two months and I didn't want to ruin what you and I- uhm - what he and I have, yeah, and I'm sorry I didn't - Mark, God, you smell so good."
Mark's running his hand up and down Eduardo's arm, hot skin-on-skin contact, which is what a good friend would do when another good friend is nuzzling them. "You feel good," Mark responds.
Eduardo's eyes flutter close. "Fuck," he whispers, brokenly, in Mark's ear.
Mark's such a good friend.
"Oh God," Mark mumbles. "What happened?"
There's bright sunshine filtering in a window and he’s sprawled across a very expensive couch.
"We're at my place," Sean says. "It was closer than the club and I had a doorman to get your sloppy ass in the door."
Sean's sitting across from him, looking morning fresh. Mark wants to kill him.
"What - where is - what happened last night?" Mark stumbles out, reaching out for the bottle of water Sean's placed on the coffee table in front of him.
"I dunno what you and your biffle were doing. You were nuzzling at the bar, but of course you both stopped before it got any better. Then you just made big eyes at each other for the rest of the night. But as to what I was up to..." Sean holds out his iPhone to Mark, giving him a broad smirk. "You can see for yourself."
Mark braces himself for the worst but is still not prepared for the first picture he sees.
"Oh no. No, he did not," Mark seethes.
Mark flips through the photos with a rising anger. Sean and Jake mugging for the camera. Sean is kissing Jake's cheek. Jake is kissing Sean's kiss. Sean and Jake are kissing each other, jokingly. Sean and Jake are kissing each other, passionately. Sean is sucking on Jake's neck. Jake is licking Sean's neck - Sean and Jake are in a bathroom and that's the top of Jake's head and -
"Sean! What did you do?" Mark is shaking.
"I just proved what a jerk your best friend is dating. So you can get the fuck over all this and move past nuzzling already," Sean shrugs.
"First - we weren't nuzzling. Second - friends nuzzle all the time, I'm pretty sure. Third - I thought you agreed this was no big deal."
Sean smiled serenely. "Bro, it's not a big deal. Which is why you need to get over all this and take care of it. And besides," Sean snatches his phone out of Mark's hand and looks away. Under his breath, he mutters, "besides, I owe you two fuckers a do-over. So, well, here’s my part. Here’s your chance to get it right this time."
Mark runs a hand through his tangled hair. "We're just friends," he defends weakly.
"Right, well, OK, you still wanna go with that? Sure. Then look what this fucker did to your friend, Mark. Now what are you going to do about that?"
Mark can feel his blood boiling. Who the fuck does Jake think he is? Some male model with a degree from Yale who does community service and writes compelling prose? Big deal! Cheating on Eduardo? As if - as if - Eduardo wasn't all you'd ever want or need in partner. Cheating on Mark's best friend? Does he have any idea who he is fucking with?
Mark stands up. "Sean," he says, his voice steel, "I need you to get me a laptop and an internet connection. And I need it right now."
Sean rubs his hands together. "That's what I'm talking about."
++
Mark clicks the laptop closed after running one last hard drive wipe. "There. That's taken care of. Now give me your phone."
He quickly deletes all the pictures of Sean and Jake. "These better be the only copies in existence," he tells Sean sternly, handing him his phone back. "What you did was, well, jerky and creepy and yet also somehow good-hearted and, in its own way, kind."
Sean smiles.
"But no one ever sees those photos, do you understand?"
"Yeah, I only took them to show -"
Mark waves his hand. "Whatever. They're gone and that never happened and you will never speak of it. Got it?"
"Isn't the point for Eduardo to -"
"No, the point is not for Eduardo to feel like shit and decide you're an asshole that fucked his boyfriend and took pictures of it. I'll - don't worry about the rest of it. I'll take care of this."
Just like any friend would, of course.
++
Eduardo calls him three days later. "Jake cheated on me. And the FBI came and picked him up! I mean, not for cheating on me. They - they said he was trying to buy anthrax? So, they questioned him for almost two days. His agency let him go and he can't volunteer at the community garden anymore and he might have to move back to live with his parents in Albany because he can't make rent!"
"He cheated on you?" Mark says, going for shocked outrage.
"Did you hear the part about the FBI?"
"Who cares about the FBI, he cheated on you?"
"When he came back after being questioned for, like, 30 hours, he was barely holding it together so he was being sloppy - and - he had a string of hickeys all down his neck, Mark!"
After looking at Sean's pictures, he'd guessed Jake would have quite a string of hickeys. He'd suspected that might even have been Sean's goal. Mark knew if Jake got distracted enough, the hickeys would be unmissable. So, really, as a friend, he owed it to Eduardo to make sure Jake got distracted.
"No way," Mark says.
"And they weren't from me! So, I asked him who they were from and he said, 'Jesus, I just got back from being accused of being a terrorist by the federal government!' and I said, 'Oh, does that make it OK to cheat on me?' and then he said, 'You didn't even notice when I was getting these because you were ALL OVER your so-called best friend at the bar!' and I said, 'I don't even know what you're talking about! I was drunk and, anyway, nothing weird happened and I don't know what you're talking about!' And then he said, 'This is almost more ridiculous than me being investigated by the FBI. I'm out of this. Eduardo, you're a nice guy, but I've never met anyone more in denial in my life.' and what does that even mean, you know? I'm out and I've had boyfriends and just because the FBI somehow found some false emails accusing you of terrorism, how is that my fault and how does it make it OK for you to cheat on me, you know?"
"How completely ridiculous!" Mark says, and this time he means it. How does it work out that these losers keep breaking up with Eduardo? Where do they get off? It's supposed to be the other way around. What's Mark doing wrong?
"Anyway, I don't even care, because he was clearly a skank that cheated on me right in front of me and I was just too drunk to notice and absolutely not distracted by anything else because, as I am sure you remember, nothing weird happened at the bar."
"Yes," Mark says with relief, "he was definitely a skank, so good riddance, and nothing weird happened at all."
Mark's not sure what he's happier about: that Jake the Jerk is out of the picture or that he and Eduardo are on the same page.
Either way, at least everything can go back to normal now and normal is just him and Eduardo, being best friends, no big deal.
++
A month after Jake the Jerk, Mark goes to Singapore.
He was meaning to take an international vacation for, like, forever. The way he figures it, he never got to go tour Europe after college which is a thing everyone does and, well, who hasn't always wanted to visit Singapore? It's essentially a coincidence Eduardo lives there.
But since Eduardo does live there it makes the trip a whole lot nicer. They go to great restaurants (why's Eduardo complaining about the food?) and Eduardo has a boat, if you can believe that, so they spend one day out on the water, lazing in the sun and listening to the water lap against the sides of the boat.
(Mark's starting to think water might be one of his turn-ons because watching Eduardo, tanned and lean, dive off the side of the boat into the water and then bob up, a trickle of water running down his face as he smiles up at Mark makes Mark so hard it almost hurts.)
That night they go out and meet a group of Eduardo's Singapore friends, a nicely dressed group guys who know a lot about business and seem genuinely excited to meet Mark.
"The legendary Mark," says Philip, but not in a mean way.
"At last we meet the person who is keeping Eduardo at home almost every night, talking on the phone," teases Ken.
"Maybe now we'll see why Eduardo wouldn't let me set him up on that blind date with Sam!" says Ty, laughing.
Well, that's weird all round. Why would Eduardo need to be set up on blind dates? What does Mark have to do with that? Why did Philip say "legendary" and his name with a smile in his voice? And, seriously, what's with the blind date thing?
He looks confusedly at the smiling group of guys but before he can start asking them these and other burning questions (like who in the fuck is Sam and do you really think he's good enough for Eduardo and do you happen to have his last name?) Eduardo, flushing red, quickly signals the waitress. "Drinks!" he exclaims, "Let's get some drinks over here!"
++
Probably, though they are just regular friends who do regular friends things, Mark and Eduardo should stop getting drunk together.
Buzzed in a club in Singapore, surrounded by smiling strangers, Mark can't keep his eyes off Eduardo. But it's OK, because Eduardo can't keep his eyes off him.
They've somehow got pressed right up against each other in their booth with Eduardo's friends on either side of them.
"This is the most awesome and ridiculous thing I have ever seen," says Ty, a touch of wonder in his voice.
"I would so be taking pictures of this shit and posting them to Facebook but I think I might be arrested as a terrorist," giggles Philip.
Mark decides he hates these guys.
But he doesn't have any time to really concentrate on what's so damn funny to them because Eduardo is leaning over and whispering in his ear, "Hey, do you want to get out of here?"
Mark's throat has closed up (possible allergic reaction?) so he can't actually answer, but he nods his head firmly.
You can never have enough one-on-one friend time, after all.
++
Mark has no idea how they get back to Eduardo's apartment. For all he knows they've teleported there. He's having a really hard time concentrating since they've stumbled out of the bar, which is weird, because he didn't think he was that drunk, so maybe it's just a combination of the alcohol and being overtired from being on the boat.
However they got there, now they're walking into Eduardo's apartment, Mark leading with Eduardo behind him, jangling his keys nervously. Maybe now, like good friends do, they will play a game of Call of Duty or something. Yes, that's exactly what Mark wants to do.
"Mark," Eduardo says, his voice low and rough, "Mark," he repeats and Mark is definitely having an allergic reaction because his throat is still closed up and he can't respond or even turn around because - because -
Eduardo wraps an arm around Mark's waist and pulls him back into his arms. "Mark, fuck, Mark," Eduardo is breathing hard in Mark's ear and Mark can't see Eduardo, but he can feel every inch of him pressed up against him.
"I want, I need," and his voice shakes a little here, "to kiss you." but the last part comes out as really more of a growl and, OK, Mark maybe is glad that Eduardo has his arm wrapped so tightly around his waist because maybe he goes a little weak in the knees at this comment. (which probably has more to do with the allergic reaction, probably.)
And isn't the spirit of friendship helping out friends? Whether they need help moving or need to have someone pick up their mail when they're on vacation or even if they need to spin you around in their apartment foyer and start kissing you so hard that the world goes white around the corners - well, Mark is of the opinion that, as a good friend (a good, regular friend) you should move that sofa, pick up that mail, and - fuck yeah - kiss back.
++
Mark realizes he should have started kissing his friends a long time ago.
(Well, OK, maybe only Wardo. Maybe only ever Wardo.)
But this - this totally friendly kiss that is kind of making Mark's spine melt - this is definitely the friendliest kiss of his life.
Which feels pretty good.
++
They finally pull apart, gasping for air, and Mark finds that as they kissed and pushed at each other, they've somehow moved from the foyer and ended up in Wardo's living room. (Wardo, the name trills out across his brain. He'd been holding him in his head as Eduardo for a long time but now, you know, they're friends. Such good friends. So it's OK to say, to think, Wardo now. )
"Wardo," Mark says, testing it out against his tongue, this old new word.
Wardo's eyes go dark and he pulls Mark back towards him, "Say it again," his voice is that same urgent growl that's doing the weirdest things to Mark's chest. (is he going into anaphylactic shock, maybe? He could be suffocating to death.)
"Wardo," Mark breathes out against his lips and Wardo makes a little gasp that's also a moan. (or maybe he gasped and Mark moaned. It's getting all mixed up in his head.)
And then there is kissing: hot, sweet, slow, kissing. As if they have all the time in the world, as if there is no rush, as if they have nothing to do but to kiss.
When they pull apart this time, Wardo leans his forehead against Mark's. "This is unbelievable. I never expected this," he says, a smile in his voice.
"Me neither," Mark says, and boy, does he mean it.
"I just," Eduardo pulls back, puts his hands on either side of Mark's face, "I want this to happen when we're both totally sober and we can't - we can't pass it off as being tired or drunk and - I want - I want to know that -"
Mark's nodding along, even though this feels like the exact opposite of what every cell in his body wants.
"Thank you," Wardo says, locking eyes with Mark. "I really appreciate - I think we'll both be - this is the right - thank you. You're a good friend."
And that part Mark already knows.
++
He wakes up at 5 AM in Singapore in the spare bedroom less than three hours after making out with Wardo in his living room and realizes what a total and complete mistake this all is.
He's jamming his stuff (he didn't bring a lot) into his bag a minute after the thought occurs to him.
He has to get out of here. He has to get out of here, out of this situation, right now. What the fuck was he thinking?
You had one friend.
He would never admit this to another living soul, but he still has nightmares about what Wardo's eyes looked like when he said that. He still remembers the way even Sy had winced when he said it.
It wasn't true. He knew at the time it wasn't true. Mark had other friends, had always had other friends. But that’s not what Wardo had meant. Mark didn't have another friend like Wardo. He hadn't ever had a friend like Wardo before: who believed in his ideas without question, who gave him money and, more importantly, unconditional support, who was there at 2 AM in case Mark needed him because he read Mark's stupid fucking blog. And in that moment - in that moment when Wardo finally met his eyes across that deposition table and Mark was the one who looked away - he was afraid he’d never have a friend like that again.
Until that conversation at Dustin's new house.
Until all those conversations across the world, the ones that felt like they lasted days, the ones that brought Wardo back into the sphere of his life. That's how they became friends again. Normal, regular, friends again. Just what Mark had always wanted. Just what Mark had been missing.
It really was no big deal, just like he'd been telling everyone all along. It was just two guys becoming friends again - that's it. That's all it ever was and to get it all mixed up with other stuff, well, that was just asking for trouble, that was just asking for things to go wrong, that was just asking for disaster and big, hurt eyes; that was asking for more than Mark could ever provide, more than Mark could ever make right. And - and Mark wasn't going to have that. He just couldn't. It was more than he could stand to lose.
Wardo was his best friend. Mark had totally learned how to be a really good friend, OK? Hadn't Ethan and Jake proved that? The Indian food, the bagels, the visits? That all proved what a good friend Mark was, right? A best friend. The best thing he could do, the fairest and simplest thing, the thing that would prove what a friend he was, how much their friendship meant to him, was run out of Wardo's apartment at 5 AM and catch a cab to the airport.
He left a note on his bed.
Work emergency came up, sorry, didn't wanna wake you. Had a good time. Talk soon.
This is what a best friend would do, Mark's convinced of that, so he just can't figure out why he feels like crying during the entire 22 hour flight back to California.
++
And then Wardo stops calling him. And he stops answering his calls too. He sort of drops of the face of the planet for a week. Then another week. Then two more weeks. Until it's been a month since Mark was in Singapore. And he hasn't heard anything from Wardo since - since he leaned over and kissed Mark (softly, tenderly) on the cheek and whispered, "Sweet dreams."
Which, you know, it makes sense. He's probably very busy. He definitely, probably thinks Mark is very busy too, since Mark left a note saying that and all. So, really, Wardo is probably being a very good friend and letting Mark take care of that work emergency. But, still, after ten phone messages where Mark has specifically stated he is NOT very busy, you'd think Wardo would clue in that it's OK to call back.
But he doesn't call back. And he doesn't reply to emails and - well, then Mark decides he's going to make himself busy with work and that's what he does, disappearing down a hole of coding and site updates and even things he usually hates and ignores, like finance reports and HR memos. He's got a hand in everything and it's perfect and then it's been almost two months since he's talked to Wardo, but it's not like he's really noticed and, besides, friends sometimes get really busy and drop entirely out of each other's lives. That happens.
It's been 67 days since he talked to Wardo last, not like he's keeping track or anything, when he hears a sound in his office and blinks up from his monitor (how long has it been since he's been at home?) and sees Dustin, Chris, and Sean standing in front of his desk, frustrated expressions on their faces.
"What in the heck?" he says.
"Mark, the three of us are concerned that you -" Chris starts.
"Believe me, none of us want to be here, OK? It's just we think -" Dustin continues.
Sean sighs, interrupting them both. "This is an intervention, dumb-ass."
++
"What do I need an intervention for?" Mark asks, genuinely puzzled.
"I don't think I can do this," Dustin mutters.
"Mark, the thing is," Chris is looking at him with something resembling pity, which seems silly, "we've heard from contacts here that you're - you've been...um, well, we're worried that you're losing some perspective here and that you're spending too much time trying to control every aspect of Facebook. Which is your way of -"
"Argh!" Sean throws his hands up. "Look, when Janice called Chris sobbing last week and said you tried to sit in on the interview panel for the assistant to the assistant to the sous chef in the restaurant, we figured you'd gone round the bend. Moskovitz there did some hacking so now we know you and Saverin aren't talking anymore since you came back from Singapore. Everyone has their theories, but I'm guessing you two made out and then you ran away like a bitch. Whatever. You're going psycho and we're concerned, the office is in terror, we know you haven't showered in a week, and we're here to tell you to get your shit together."
Chris and Dustin have both gone chalky-white, but Sean's just staring at him with frustration.
"You couldn't have hacked my accounts. I - I would have know," Mark says, slightly stunned.
Dustin looks down at his feet. "Not, um, yours. I - uh - Eduardo's."
"That's how he found out that Eduardo has a new boyfriend," Sean says, almost casually. Mark sees Chris waving his hands around in the universal "no, stop!" symbol but it's too late. Sean plows ahead. "Now what the fuck are you gonna do, Mark?" Sean asks.
Dustin backs away from the desk slowly and Chris, if possible, is even more ashen-faced. Mark - Mark doesn't know quite what to do. What's the strange roar in his head? Why's everything starting to go blurry? Is he having yet another allergic reaction? Is this the asthma and the anaphylactic shock hitting him at once?
What kind of person doesn't even tell their best friend about their new boyfriend?
Mark is gonna have to do something about that.
++
People shouldn't put so much information on their Facebook accounts. I mean, really. Most people don't even realize the vast amount of information they're sharing, the ways it spreads, how easy it can be to find but, well, what if Mark genuinely was the nefarious information hoarding villain so many people seem to think he is? Just think what he could do!
Now? Now he has something to do.
"Get out," he hisses at Dustin, Chris, and Sean. "Get out right now."
"Oh, this is the worst idea we ever had," Dustin says, shaking his head and yanking Chris out of the room.
Sean just gives Mark a brief nod before sauntering out. "Make it happen, Zuckerberg."
++
In the 67 days they haven't been talking (again, not like Mark is keeping track) it never once occurred to Mark to hack Wardo's accounts. That wouldn't be very friendly, would it? But now, well, now this is for the good of their friendship.
Perhaps not surprisingly, Wardo doesn't have a personal Facebook page, but Mark knows that you can find out plenty about people without Facebook pages through their friend’s Facebook pages. It doesn't take long from there.
Tyson Li has tagged Sam Paige in the album 'slammin singapore'
It's Sam. It's blind-date Sam. There he is, a crooked smile on his face - his arms around Wardo like - like - like he can put his arms around Wardo.
Mark gets the anaphylactic shock feeling again.
Mark probably should go to a doctor and get a prescription for an inhaler. In the meantime, it feels like the only way to combat it, obviously, is to find out all he can about Sam Paige.
++
His fingers flying - Mark's internal monologue runs apace with his fingers on the keyboard.
The Internet isn't written in pencil, Sam Paige, it's written in ink. That's something you should have thought of before you took off all your clothes and let the assholes of your college fraternity bend you over and spank you. That's really something you should have thought of before you let them take all those hazing pictures: the one where you're dressed like Little Bo Peep and simulating oral sex with a blow up sheep, the one where you're doing a keg stand, the one where you're puking, messily and epically, on some screaming blond girl’s shoes right after the keg stand.
See, Sam Paige, the internet is written in ink and so even if you think those pictures are locked away safe and sound on your stupid fraternity's secure "brothers only" website, well, first of all, no website is as secure as anyone wants you to think. Second of all, it's 2011 and websites are becoming extinct. Mark knows, because he's the meteor that killed the fucking dinosaur. So, soon those pictures will be imported to Facebook and then shared - even if there was no hacking involved because, well, that's the beauty of Mark's baby. So, good work, genius.
But that's then. Then is coming, then will happen - but in the now? In the now, Sam Paige, Mark Zuckerberg has those pictures and the contact info for the place you work (wow, they sound kind of conservative from the research) and, heck, even a list of your 338 closest friends.
And, Sam, you can't just ... touch Mark's best friend like that.
++
As he's closing up the code that will launch an unstoppable slide show of Sam's greatest frat hazing hits for everyone not just in his office but all 52 floors of the building his office is in, Mark has a second to relish the elegance of the code and the havoc this is about to cause before he asks himself a question he can't answer.
Why did I do that?
Jake? Well, that was easy. He had to be punished for daring to touch anyone but Wardo. Ethan? Well, um, he was rushing things - having Wardo meet his parents after only six months and besides he was ... he was making Wardo pretend to not like spicy food and Wardo loved spicy food, so he was clearly making him live a lie!
Those guys, they had to be dealt with. It was the least Mark could do as a best friend.
But Sam? Not only did Mark know literally nothing about him and Wardo but what he'd just done would, yes, summarily humiliate him and possibly ruin his life, which was fine by Mark but - what did it have to do with Wardo, again?
Nothing.
It had nothing to do with Wardo. Mark had done it because - because Erica Albright is a bitch. He'd done it because he was angry and he wanted to hurt the person who'd made him angry: Sam.
Mark pushed back from his desk and looked around his office, blinking owlishly. How long had he been stuck in here? How long had it been since he'd sat by his pool and looked up and the moon and talked on the phone until his ear hurt but who cared because he felt so happy? It'd been 67 days. And Mark knew that because he'd been counting. He'd been counting all along.
He'd wanted to hurt Sam because...because...
Oh, fuck.
He thought back to Dustin's party, how he'd felt when he and Wardo started talking, really talking, how he'd felt something in his stomach he'd originally thought was food poisoning. He thought about the way Wardo had smiled when he held out the box of lamb vindaloo and half-whispered You were listening. He thought about all the times recently that he'd been afraid he was having an allergic reaction. He thought about all the pained and amused expressions that had crossed over their friend's faces, over Wardo's friends faces. And then, finally, he thought about Wardo's hands on the side of his face, of Wardo's mouth, warm and pliant, his arm wrapped around Mark's waist pulling him back and of Wardo's eyes luminous with - with -
Oh, fuck.
He'd wanted to hurt Sam because he was in love with Wardo.
It was kind of a big deal.
++
To: Dustin, Chris, Sean
Sending mass text because I don't have time for more. Headed to airport. Going to Singapore. Did you guys know I was in love with Wardo?
From: Chris
What do you think I've been trying to tell you since that night at Dustin's housewarming?!
From: Dustin
BRB SWARM OF LOCUSTS, RAIN OF TOADS OUTSIDE.
From: Sean
Now this is cool.
++
It'd be weird to wait for Wardo at work or in the lobby of his building and Mark doesn't want to be weird. But, luckily, Wardo gave him a key when he was visiting 68 (maybe 69 by now. Stupid flight) days ago and in his middle of the night panic dash he sort of accidentally forgot to put it back. So, he can just let himself in Wardo's apartment and wait there. Which is fine and not weird because, you know, friends expect that.
++
Mark, who has been known to go up to 32 hours without sleep, falls asleep on Wardo's couch. He couldn't sleep at all on the flight, he was too wired with nerves and, really, sleep has been elusive in general the last 68 days. He really means to just lay his head down for a second or two -
"Mark! What in the fuck are you doing?" Wardo's shriek sends him bolt upright.
"Oh - um - hey - I - uh -" he takes in the sight of Wardo - it's like he's seeing him for the first time. He looks, well, not so great. His suit is rumpled and he has lines of fatigue around his eye and he's looking at Mark like he's sprung another head. He’s still the best sight Mark’s ever seen. Wardo.
"Why are you here? Why are you on my couch? What - why - how -" he takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his messy hair. Then he mutters, mostly to himself, "Why am I even asking this? Of course this is all happening on this incredibly shitty day."
"What - why - why is today - what happened?" Mark asks, genuinely concerned at how overwhelmed and helpless Wardo looks.
"I - there's this guy I - Sam. I was - not like it's any of your business or anything but - I was dating this guy named Sam, I mean, not, like seriously dating or anything, barely a month and - anyway - today, we - he, um,” Eduardo sighs. “He had a really bad day at work. And I felt for him, really, but he kept saying it was my fault, that he should have known, and I don't know why guys always seem to tell me that and -"
Oh man, again? "Did he break up with you?" Mark asks, his tone dark.
Eduardo shakes his head. "No. Not this time. This time I told him life was too short for this. I mean, he was a nice enough guy but I never - it didn't feel the way it feels with, um, I'm just done wasting my time, you know? All these guys, they're just not -” he stops for a second and stares at Mark. “It should be something real and now I know there can be so much more -" Eduardo suddenly trails off. He looks at Mark again, an unreadable expression on his face. "God, why am I telling you all this?"
Mark shrugs and stands up. "Because we're best friends."
Eduardo gives a short gasp of laughter. "Oh fuck, the miserable part is how true that feels to me."
"It's not miserable," Mark says with conviction, crossing the few steps in-between them, walking towards Wardo with intention. He stops right in front of him and smiles. "It's awesome."
And then he pulls Wardo in for a kiss.
++
It's a few blissful, perfect seconds of kissing Wardo and Wardo kissing back.
Then Wardo pulls back, steps away from Mark. He's practically shaking. "What are you doing? Do you think you can just - you ran out of here, Mark, in the middle of the fucking night and - and - you left me a post-it note and you - a friend wouldn't do that, Mark!"
"No," Mark says, as if realizing it for the first time. "A friend - a friend probably wouldn't do that."
Wardo's face goes pale. He looks like Mark's slapped him, he backs even farther away from Mark. "So, you're saying we're not friends. You're saying we aren't friends and everything that's happened: the calls, the visits, the messages, that was nothing. We aren't friends and so you - you can - what? You can fuck me now and walk away? You can stop pretending to care about me or listen to me or want me in your life and just -"
Mark moves forward, interrupts him before it gets worse. "A friend wouldn't do that - but an idiot who is in love with you, an idiot who is afraid of losing his best friend - I think maybe...maybe that idiot would."
Wardo's eyes go wide and he stops in his tracks. "You - "
"I love you. I've loved you - I don't even know how long but I am not allergic to shellfish and I don't need an inhaler and water is not the turn-on and friends don't nuzzle and - we should have had a talk about all this and - everyone knew but us and - I love you. You are my best friend, that's true, but so's the fact that I love you."
Mark says it all in one long breath and it feels so good to have out there.
"You -" Wardo seems dazed, speechless.
"Think about it, Wardo. Really think about it."
And he does, Mark can see that he really does. Mark gets to watch as the understanding breaks across his face.
"I - I thought I was - sometimes it felt like I could breathe and I thought it was because of the altitude or maybe jet lag. The food never tasted as good as when I was with you and I thought maybe I was losing taste buds or something. Then that first time we Skyped and you ended the call right away...I was so turned on I jerked off right there in bed, still staring at the computer screen where your face had been. I couldn't figure out why everyone kept saying we were being so oblivious because I didn't think it was a big deal - but it - it - it -"
Mark's nodding along. "Yes," Mark says fervently. "Yes. It was a big deal, because -"
Now Wardo interrupts him, a small smile on his face. "Because this idiot is in love with you too."
"Yes," Mark says softly. "that's just what this idiot was hoping you'd say."
And then there is kissing: kissing and laughing and it's even better than Mark imagined because he doesn't know how they ended up wrapped up in each other, who reached out first, who tugged the other forward. It's like the night in the foyer but so much better because this time there's going to be no backing out and no one is having an allergic reaction; it's just them making each other shake with mutual desire; it's just two normal best friends with their hearts, at last, racing in time.
++
Later, with his head on Wardo's chest, listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart, Mark feels himself drifting off to a pleasant, exhausted sleep.
"Wait a minute," Wardo says, shocked, "it was - you. You - you - no wonder it was always weird computer things the authorities could never trace and no wonder they all said it was my fault and accused me of not knowing and - you - you could have caused serious trouble you committed major crimes - why - they were - was it because -"
Mark, drowsy and sated, doesn't even open his eyes. "I was being a good friend."
There's a moment of silence. Then Wardo gives a sweet, joyful laugh and Mark feels him tangle his hands in his hair. "The best," he says, love in his voice.
++
+ Epilogue +
Mark gets Ethan off the No Fly list and a written apology from the TSA. Mark has some local investors offer Sam a better job. Then Mark suggests Eduardo set Sam and Ethan up on a blind date. It goes quite well and the two of them even attend the going away party Ty, Philip, and Ken throw Eduardo. They roll their eyes and smile at Mark and Eduardo holding hands.
"To the day we never thought we'd see!" Ken raises a toast.
"But we're so happy is here!" chimes in Ty.
"To visiting California!" says Philip.
"To Mark and Wardo," says Sam.
“Those idiots,” finishes Ethan.
They all clink glasses and smile.
++
"I never want you to kiss anyone but me," Mark growls in Wardo's ear later that night.
There's not much furniture left in his apartment, so they are fucking on the floor.
"I never," Wardo pushes back, gasping as the action makes Mark slide in deeper, "I never want to kiss anyone but you."
++
"To the happiest, most oblivious couple in the world," Dustin says, scooping up some curry with his plastic spoon.
"I'm sorry I broke all the plates last time," Chris apologizes, chewing on some naan.
"S'okay," Wardo says, "we need all new things anyway."
"See how nice this is, you guys?" Mark asks rhetorically, looking at his three best friends (one of whom is, conveniently, the love of his life) gathered around what passes as his kitchen table.
"You could've said something about us getting together earlier, you know," he says, idly.
He doesn't even see it coming, but being whacked in the head with a wad of napkins barely hurts.
++
From: Sean
I told you it was no big deal. Happy for you two crazy kids. Hey - can I bring Jake when I stay over in the guest room?
From: Mark
JAKE NOT WELCOME.
From: Mark
But you always are. Thanks, bro.
++
This, Mark realizes, is the big reunion story, the one Mark thought they'd never need.
It's the whole rest of his life with Wardo - traveling, eating good food, making love in the pool on lazy summer days, visiting friends, business plans, working hard, laughing, sometimes fighting. It’s no allergic reactions just the genuine weak knees that come from being in love with your best friend.
That's the reunion story.
It's a big deal and Mark couldn't be happier.