Author: You're looking at her.
Rating: PG, eventually R.
Summary: TSN/Some Boys Don't Leave crossover. Mark's method of getting Eduardo to forgive him is to live on Eduardo's apartment floor. Post-deposition.
Word Count: 1163
A/N: I don't own whatever's not supposed to be mine and I suck at proof reading.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3
The tip of Eduardo's fingers press hard against his temples, dragging across the skin before they rub against his lips, harsh, pushing and pulling as he leans on the wall of the narrow hallway of his temporary LA apartment.
"Mark," he repeats, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, head shaking and bowed down tiredly. "Mark, get out of my apartment."
The other boy closes his eyes, visibly extending his patience. "Wardo," the nickname stings the both of them, and the pause Mark adds feels longer than it should be, "I knew you would ask several times, but I thought I made myself perfectly clear that I -"
Eduardo hits the wall opposite to him, the impact startling Mark into a stop. "Mark, I need you to get out of my apartment," he says, raising his voice, his eyelids half open, half closed in suppressed fury. But then again, he notices how he can't stop saying Mark's name. "Now, before I call the cops on you."
Mark just shakes his heads quickly, not moving from his position on the floor, back against the wall, legs folded into each other. "No, I won't go," he answers like it's enough. Eduardo squeezes his eyes closed, because it's not enough.
He brings his hands together and breaths into them as he paces twice down the hall and back, and he misses the troubled look on Mark's face. Mark says, "Look - Wardo, come on, this is me trying to help you."
"No, no," Eduardo says into his hands with a shake of his head before he points at Mark. "This - this is breaking and entering - how did you - how'd you even get the door open?"
"You're not going to call the cops on me." Mark stares up at the other boy, eyes all wide and daring, always daring for the push that Eduardo is always, always so tired for.
"Mark, please." His voice wavers enough to make it sound like a beg. A part of him wants to kneel down to level with Mark, to grip Mark's arm and shake his conscience out of him because this is all too much. Too soon.
Mark still peers up at him, and everything is pulsing out of their gaze and it floats out through the room and makes Eduardo look away. Look away and storm into the open door right next to him and slam the door shut.
Somehow, Eduardo finds sleep that night and he hopes to everything anybody could possibly hope to that Mark isn't in his hallway the next morning.
Eduardo wakes up to the sound of banging against a keyboard and it honestly makes him think that he's gotten himself stuck in some time warp for a moment, because he can track back the memory where this last happened. He kicks the comforter off and slips out of bed. The sound of typing continues and it's at a constant pace, bulleting through the letters.
He opens the door and stops in the middle of the hallway. His face is still all smothered with drowsiness, but he looks down on Mark on the way to the room and curses, "Fuck me."
"Good morning to you, too, Wardo," Mark replies, still typing, gaze going from his fingers and to the screen. "You snore now - you never used to snore." Then he weaves his fingers together and cracks his knuckles before he pushed the top of the notebook down.
Eduardo pours milk and cereal into the bowl, the milk splattering against the counter as he went. "I need you out of my apartment, Mark," he says, sounding all tired and not-awake. He scoops through his breakfast, taking in a few bites.
Mark shrugs, even though Eduardo can't see him. "Can we talk yet?"
"I don't want to talk to you." Eduardo starts to walk through the hallway and says, "I don't want to see you." And he goes back into his room as he feels the raw burn behind his eyelids.
It's too soon.
He shuts the door and has breakfast in his room. When he gets dressed in another suit, he leaves the apartment without another word, his eyes all vacant, leveled and avoiding. He ignores Mark wishing him a good day at work. He shuts another door.
Eduardo hears the lock click and it makes him wince.
Eduardo forgets the keys to his place a lot, which is strange, because Mark's never seen Eduardo leave his keys behind before. Or at least not in Harvard.
He opens the door for Wardo, delicately laying his notebook computer on the floor and a quick scurry and slued across the tiles against his sweatpants and he immediately points to the ceramic-slash-pretentious bowl right next to the door and says, "You - you forgot your keys."
The other boy moves past him without any sign of thanks and dumps all that was in his harms on the kitchen counter. "How was work?" Mark asks, and the hope lies so high on his voice. Eduardo can't look at him, but his eyes, trained on the ground, are soft.
"You had a meeting with Peter Thiel, what was that about?" he continues on, clasping his hands together, head tilted up and following Wardo move across the kitchen to get a glass of water. "He's been losing hair since the deposition, did you see that comb over? Or did he do a better job of hiding it?"
Mark codes on the small notebook computer he has while Eduardo's away. The charger stretches along the hall and into the kitchen, replacing in the socket where the toaster should be connected. Even when he's trying to pick forgiveness out of Eduardo's soul, his mind is still stationed in Facebook. Although admittedly, he usually spends more time propping his chin on his palm while he free hand tapped on the F5 key to the tune of all the TV themes he knows.
He still doesn't understand the way his heart seems to pull back whenever the green dot appears next to Eduardo Saverin, but it's only ever there for a few moments, three beats, and it's gone. It's a rare thing.
But the green dot returns and a chatbox pops out on the corner of the street.
Are you out of my apartment yet?
Mark's surprised at the bravery. He didn't think he would be speaking to Wardo on Facebook, of all places, any time soon.
He taps his fingers on the keys swiftly twice before he adds, We can talk here if you want. I don't mind if you don't.
Eduardo disappears again, his name redirecting to some other list. Mark stares at the screen, letting himself hope that it was some sort of glitch on their internet connection and that Eduardo will buzz back to life on Facebook. In Facebook. He blinks, once, twice, before his eyes fall and he gulps loudly.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3