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fuzzy_paintTitle: the other side (is always greener) 2/4
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Social Network
Pairings/Characters: Mark/Eduardo
Word Count: ~37,000
Disclaimer: Don’t own.
Summary: Canon compliant AU: When he's sent to infiltrate human society in order to protect his people, Eduardo meets Mark for the second time, and his instantaneous attachment might cost him everything.
A/N: Special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
becca_radcgg for the beta. Written for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
thesocialbbang challenge. Master Post.
Check out the amazing art bychosenfire28
Eduardo’s feet are still a little damp from the Harbor when he wanders into Kirkland and knocks on Mark’s door. Dustin answers in sweats, bleary eyed and yawning.
“It’s seven,” Eduardo says.
“Mark’s out,” Dustin says, and when Eduardo just shrugs, he adds, straight-faced, “I knew you liked me best." Then he grins.
Eduardo pushes past him and slumps on the couch. The television is on, volume low, and he toes off his shoes, probably scuffing them, and then props his feet up on the table. Mostly, he’s feeling lazy, and a little apathetic. Withdrawal from the sea, probably. It’s only been three weeks, and he’s been down to the Harbor almost every other day. It’s an ache that won’t go away.
He’s tanner, three hundred thousand dollars richer and probably thinner, and he feels the absence of the sea in his head acutely, something like homesickness. Like when he first came to the surface before he found Mark.
Mark who has been gone an awful lot lately, more than Eduardo’s ever known him to be.
“What’s on?”
“Some show about pirates.” Dustin shrugs, then stretches, yawning again. He settles on the other end of the couch, and they’re silent, mostly, lulled by the voice-overs.
“Destroying my childhood dreams,” Dustin says, muffled by the cushion. “I used to think being a pirate was the coolest thing until I learned about scurvy.”
Eduardo laughs instead of telling Dustin about the time he met a real pirate, instead of showing him the scar on his hip from the asshole’s harpoon. “Take your vitamins, man. You’ll be fine.”
He debates the merits of getting a beer from the mini-fridge for a good five minutes while Dustin curls up tight, pressing his face against the cushion, flipping channels during commercial breaks, rapid flashes of color that hurt Eduardo’s eyes.
“That’s bizarre,” Dustin says, pausing. They both watch a fish change colors.
“The cuttlefish,” Eduardo says, “It’s kind of cool, how they change colors. You know, it’s not just for camouflage. They also do it to communicate with each other. It’s like their own personal social network on their skin.” He falls silent, and closes his eyes, thinking about home. He touches the inside of his elbow absently.
“How do you know so much about fish?”
He says, not opening his eyes, “I’m from Florida, man. You pick things up.”
“You know that doesn’t make any sense, right?”
Eduardo gets up and goes for that beer. He brings Dustin one, but he presses the bottom against Dustin’s forehead, making him jerk and swear, dropping the remote. Eduardo picks it up and changes the channel and keeps changing it until he pauses on the weather channel, watching the cloud formations over eastern Massachusetts.
“You really made three hundred thousand dollars this summer?”
“Yeah,” Eduardo says, trying not to think about how Mark hasn’t said anything about it.
He told Mark first, of course, but he’s also been spending a lot of time down by the waterfront, and in expensive hotels that still have bathtubs; the urge to go home gets stronger and stronger the less Mark says.
He grins and clinks his bottle against Dustin’s. “To the weather channel.”
“That’s insane,” Dustin says, and he’s still half laughing when he drinks.
Eduardo drops his head back against the couch, watching through his eyelashes. He’s half asleep when the door opens, beer bottle loose in his hand. He rolls his head back to watch Mark come in. There’s a hint of color, lipstick or chapstick, on Mark’s collar. Eduardo stares at it, and then he trains his eyes back on the television and flips back to the pirates.
“You’re right about the scurvy,” he says, hand tight around the bottle. Then: “Where were you?”
Mark shrugs. “I met a girl,” he says, offhand, like it’s really no big deal.
“A-“ Eduardo say, sitting up. “A girl.”
Mark looks at Eduardo like he’s being an idiot, but there’s a tiny curl to the corner of his mouth, barely there and completely self-satisfied, and Eduardo wants to scream.
“And you’re.” His chest feels like there’s a huge gaping hole, right in the center. “Dating her.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You like her, then,” Eduardo says, not meeting anyone’s eyes, curling his fingers in the couch cushions.
Mark frowns. Eduardo looks away. He catches the look on Dustin’s face, something like pity.
“That’s awesome, man,” he says. Mark nods, a smug curl to the corner of his mouth. “Good for you.”
“How’d you meet her?” Dustin asks, but Mark’s focused on Eduardo, looking suspicious so Eduardo forces the smile on his face and he stays until he can’t stand it anymore, until his skin feels like it’s crawling, spiking up, probably showing so everyone can see it.
How stupid he’s been.
“You’re leaving?”
Eduardo doesn’t look up from his shoelaces. “I have. I have that thing, remember?”
“Right,” Mark says, like there really is a thing. He probably thinks there is. How would he know otherwise?
Eduardo steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him, gripping the door handle long after it’s closed. Then he walks away, not looking back, hands tightly clenched and tucked in his pockets. He shoves open the outer door and steps into the cool night air. There are people everywhere. Even this late, they’re all around, walking and laughing, and Eduardo can’t stand to look at any of them.
He ducks around the corner of the building, out of sight, and he puts a hand against the wall to prop himself up. He tells himself to breathe, to fight it as the itching and prickling over his spine intensifies, thickens and spreads out, curling around to his front. He breathes out, staring at the red patch on his hand, like his skin’s been scraped up, at the slender thread of gold that disappears beneath his sleeve.
He rips open his cuff, button hitting the ground and rolling away, and shoves his sleeve up, tracing the golden spiral all the way up to his elbow where it pools with green. He touches his upper arm through his sleeve, feeling the scales, the patterns, staring at them blindly.
Eduardo stumbles backwards. He has to get out of here, away from people. He knows what happens to humans that find out. He knows; he’s heard the stories, and-
Someone touches his arm.
Eduardo jerks, trying to pull away, shoving his elbow up, but it’s knocked away, and-
It’s Divya.
“What are you doing here?” Eduardo says sharply. Mark’s just upstairs. “You don’t hang out around here.”
“I was just,” he says shaking loose of Eduardo’s grasp, “walking through. Are you okay?”
Eduardo grips the front of his shirt. He pushes him back. “You need to leave. Now.”
Divya starts to pull his hand away, but then stops. He’s looking down, eyes on Eduardo’s arm. “Come with me,” he says. He pulls down Eduardo’s sleeve, covering up his skin. “Come on.”
“There are people. We can’t go–”
“Shut up.” He yanks Eduardo’s elbow until he follows. Only a few blocks, one turn and then another, and then Divya stops and lets go. Eduardo leans against the side of the building; he looks up at the lettering above them, bold black. Divya has a key. Eduardo doesn’t ask, breathing slowly through his mouth, thinking as blankly as possible as Divya pulls him through the doors. Eduardo follows all the way through the hallway until he realizes where he’s being taken.
“No, man,” he says, but Divya sets his palms flat on Eduardo’s chest and shoves him backwards.
Eduardo hits the water hard. The woosh around him is mocking, and he sinks to the bottom, startled by the burn of chlorine, unfamiliar and unwelcome, chafing his skin. He chokes and claws at his throat, his chest, until his body eases, relaxes into the submersion and he settles into the deepest corner of the pool. He curls his arms around his knees – he shouldn’t still have knees, not like this, and it takes him a second to remember his father’s ring, still on his finger.
He doesn’t think much, and he lets himself breathe, as much as the chlorine will let him, and stares straight ahead. Not much to look at, not like back home, with all the fish and plants and creatures most humans don’t even know exist, but Eduardo watches the other side of the pool, just in case, ears straining for the slightest disturbance in the water.
It’s a long time before he surfaces, water dripping from his hair, and pulls himself half way out, elbows resting on the ledge. His eyes burn and his lungs ache.
“Better?”
“I hate chlorine,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
When he drops his hand, they both stare at the red, at the slender thread of gold that spirals up his arm, pools and mixes with green in his elbow and spikes up to his shoulder, covering human skin like armor.
“Green and red and gold,” Divya muses. “You’re a Saverin.”
Water drips into his eyes when Eduardo looks up. “You really going to tell me that you didn’t know that?”
He smiles. “I know people. Divya,” he says. “But you probably already know that.”
He did. Eduardo did his homework: Divya is a Narendra, a family still connected in way that Eduardo’s hasn’t been in generations, the black mark of his ancestry still hanging over his name, wrapping around their every move and ambition like seaweed.
“Thanks,” Eduardo says, “For.”
Divya just nods.
Eduardo pulls himself out of the pool. His clothes are heavy, soaked and dripping, spilling everywhere. The water seeps into the fabric of Divya’s slacks, but his eyes are intent on Eduardo.
“How’d you get a key?”
“How do you not have one?”
“I hate chlorine,” Eduardo says. It’s still burning his eyes.
“You go out to the beaches.”
“Sometimes.” He sits in Mark’s room, now, instead, when the call of the sea gets too strong. “When I have to.”
“What happened?”
Eduardo looks away. His hair is plastered to his forehead. He pushes it back, knowing it’s going to be sticking up everywhere.
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re close to the human,” Divya says knowingly. “And you’re a Saverin.”
“Stay away from him. He’s outside of why I’m here.”
“Really,” Divya says, drawling, “you really are a Saverin, aren’t you? Relax. I’m not going to hurt him. He’s just. An interesting choice.”
“It’s not like that,” Eduardo says. It sounds weak. It is weak. “You think they’d let me come here?”
“So what happened?” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
Eduardo watches the patches of red and gold and green fade until there is nothing left but human skin.
Mark owes him nothing. Mark’s never owed him anything, Eduardo’s own stupid daydreams aside. Mark is human and Eduardo is not, and there’s no way it would ever work, the two of them, even if the thought of walking away cuts him right to his bones.
“Stupidity,” he says.
~
He’s supposed to be studying, but Eduardo sits on the floor in the stacks, reading stories about his people. It’s the closest he’s ever going to get to his own stories, the truth hidden in these watered down and misinterpreted tales.
“I can’t believe I was going to tell him,” he says, tracing the words in a musty, ill-used and forgotten book, reading lines of fiction that feel more real than anything Eduardo’s encountered up here, anything that isn’t Mark.
He pulls out his phone.
“Father,” Eduardo says, “I’d like to set up a meeting with some of your contacts in the area.”
“And your mysterious opportunity?”
“It was hardly mysterious,” Eduardo says.
“You would tell me nothing about it.”
“No I just. It’s time I focused. It was a risk. Sometimes they work out.” He looks up, expecting Mark to be at his computer, but Eduardo is in a forgotten corner of the library. He’s alone. “Sometimes they don’t.”
~
“So,” Eduardo says, shoulder warm against Mark’s. “How’s it going with Erica?”
“Great.” Mark drinks from his spiked punch and adds, grimacing, “She goes to BU. Unfortunate, but.”
“She has you,” Eduardo says dryly.
Mark nods, and Eduardo snorts into his hand, pretends his wiping his mouth.
It’s irritating, how human Mark is. How Mark he is.
It’s even more irritating how Eduardo doesn’t really care. They’re three or four beers into the night, away from most of the people because Mark doesn’t feel like socializing, and Eduardo just wants to stick close to him. He’s tried cutting himself off completely; limiting how much time he spends in Mark’s dorm, on his bed, spilling secrets he shouldn’t, breaking all the important laws. It isn’t working.
“You should meet her,” Mark says.
“Yeah, sure,” Eduardo says, looking away. He’s not ready for that, controlling his skin around the girl Mark chose over him.
It’s a stupid comparison. It’s not like Mark knew he had that choice. Eduardo is –
He is what he is, and it’s just not normal to be second. Not to a human.
Eduardo sighs, shifting away from the warmth of Mark’s shoulder.
“I told you I didn’t want to come to this,” Mark says. “I have coding to do.”
“It’ll do you good,” Eduardo says absently.
“According to who?” Mark frowns at him. “You always claim it will be fun, even though it invariably isn’t. It’s nothing more than a waste of my time.”
Eduardo shrugs, shifting into a looser slouch against the wall. He wishes he was drunker. Or Mark was drunker, so his bitching would be more cutting. Eduardo likes Mark like that, which isn’t fair to say, since Eduardo usually likes Mark at all times, even when he’s being an asshole.
Mark is looking at him. Eduardo is aware of it immediately, prickling at his neck.
“What?”
“I don’t understand it,” Mark says. “Why you’re always around.”
Eduardo glances sideways at him. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“The bit about me being an asshole? Yeah,” Mark says, smirking. “You do that when you’re drunk.”
“I am a little drunk.”
They share a grin, the grin of the I’m-a-little-drunk-club, and Eduardo thinks, very clearly and without slurring, I want to kiss you.
Mark frowns, tilting his head. Eduardo flushes. He looks away. Dustin and Chris are talking with some girls near the drinks and the food.
“That’s not Portuguese,” Mark says. “It’s not a romance language at all, is it?”
“I-“
Mark watches him. He waits, and Eduardo can’t think of a single good lie to tell.
“It’s a dialect,” Eduardo says finally, after the moment’s stretched too long. “A native dialect of Brazil.”
Mark nods. “You speak it with your father, sometimes.”
“Eavesdropping?” Eduardo says, suddenly far too sober for any AEPi party.
“You talk to him in my room. If you cared what I overhear, you’d go back to your own dorm.”
Eduardo rubs his face, mostly to shield himself from Mark’s gaze. “I hate how you’re still so logical when you’re drunk. Don’t you ever cut loose?”
“I am cutting loose,” Mark says, completely straight-faced.
Eduardo cracks up, grinning widely. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I appreciate that.”
Eduardo is warm, more than a simple alcohol flush or the absurd heat of the night. It’s stupid. Eduardo knows better. But he nudges Mark’s shoulder and says, “Hey, you want to get out of here? You were right, this is kind of lame.”
Mark is still frowning a little, eyebrows drawn together, and watching Eduardo with those far too blue eyes. “I told you it would be.”
Eduardo rolls his eyes, prodding at Mark’s shoulder until he stops slouching against the wall. “Yeah, alright, the great Mark Zuckerberg, always right.”
“Just as long as you know that.”
“I’ll remember it forever,” Eduardo vows, one hand over his heart and the other between Mark’s shoulder blades as he guides him out of the room.
~
The chirp of his phone wakes him up. Bleary eyed, it takes him a moment to focus.
read marks blog
Eduardo stares at the text, heart beating in his throat. He fumbles with his keypad.
what
And then he starts his computer, waiting for it to load.
trust me dude u want to see this
~
Erica Albright is a bitch.
The knot in Eduardo’s chest frays open, splitting apart as he reads angry, spitting words on Mark’s blog. It’s like he can breathe again, even if it is only a little, even if he feels like he’s still gasping.
Eduardo doesn’t think to turn off his lights. He’s not sure he actually locked his dorm room, but he’s across campus quickly, legs burning as he climbs the Kirkland stairs, heart beating loudly in his chest as he knocks on the door.
Chris lets him in, but Shark Week is on, so his attention is gone, but that’s okay. Eduardo’s already looking past him.
“I’m here for you,” Eduardo says because he’ll always be there for Mark, and Dustin, drunk in the background, laughs at him.
Eduardo is subtle only to Mark.
He watches Dustin roll his eyes as he caves, because it was ridiculously easy for him to give in and let Mark have what he wants, an algorithm for a website that’s more about pissing people off than anything else. It’s so easy to ignore that this could be a black mark on his record, that it could be used against him in the future. His father.
Eduardo gives it to him anyway.
He gives it to him, writing on the window with a black grease marker, and then he fidgets in the background until they crash the servers.
~
They crash the servers.
~
“Don’t you think maybe you should lay low for a little bit?”
Mark turns to him, turns away from his computer, face curious and questioning.
“You crashed the servers in a matter of hours,” Eduardo says. “And I helped. And that’s going to attract some unwanted attention. From the girls on campus at the very least.”
“Oh? Has something happened?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Eduardo twists his father’s ring. “Mark. You need to be more careful. This isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
Mark shrugs, resuming his attention on his computer. “They won’t link it to you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“I’m not-” Eduardo stares at him, feeling helpless. “It’s not that, Mark. It’s not that at all.”
He doesn't care about being linked to this; this isn't about him, even when it is. People, certain people, are going to start noticing that Eduardo hangs out with a human, that he's not pursuing the duty of all those that come to the surface. He’s president of the Harvard Investor’s Association - and it’s something. It’s something. And his father is at home, away from phones or computers or any form of instant communication, visiting his mother.
He imagines what she’d say about Mark.
The prickle along the back of his neck, the insides of his elbows, the length of his spine is near constant now, and Eduardo keeps playing with his ring, pushing it down until it cuts into the skin between his fingers. I’m trying to protect you, he thinks, but Eduardo lets it drop.
He lets it go, but it stings, irritating in his head. Mark won’t listen to him, or heed his advice, when Eduardo knows what dangers are out there, when Eduardo just knows better. Humans are irresponsible and careless, spilling oil and exploring spaces where they’re not wanted, getting involved when they shouldn’t.
He starts to spend more time with Dustin and Chris, dragging them to bars, unsurprised when Mark usually declines the invite. He spreads his homework out on their coffee table, scuffed and nicked on the surface. He goes to AEPi parties without heckling Mark into coming. But when he shows up to Caribbean night, Eduardo’s already a little drunk, off both the fruit punch and the Phoenix, and sometimes, he’s just glad to see Mark, even with all the irritation.
“I have an idea,” Mark says, but he can’t look directly at him.
Eduardo feels like he’s actually been physically punched. It’s freezing, and Eduardo is curling in, tightly wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to contain his true skin.
He’s a little shocked. Mark came to him, and Eduardo remembers what it was like to slip past the guards when he was younger, to duck around the perimeter patrols, all the way up to the beach. He remembers the wrench in his gut when he first saw Mark, sinking below the surface, Eduardo’s hands slippery against the algae on the pier’s support beam.
Despite everything, Mark’s surprise and obvious dismay about the Phoenix, he’s warm in his chest and he says yes. Yes, whatever Mark wants.
~
“You’re right,” Mark says, “It was probably a diversity thing.”
~
“You have no idea,” Eduardo says when the door shuts behind him. He doesn’t go back to Caribbean night. He ducks into an empty hallway and leans against the wall. It’s more than a simple diversity thing. The final clubs were always in his future, the place where great men are born, where the connections of the future are made.
Where Mark, who doesn’t think Eduardo could get in on his own merit, wants to be.
He listens to the slap of Mark’s flip-flops against the tile floor. He presses the back of his hand against his mouth and Eduardo thinks, it was probably my father pulling strings, but that knowledge doesn’t lessen the sting.
~
“I don’t really know what this means,” he tells Chris later. “I don’t really get his computer stuff.”
“You know how Mark is,” Chris says, like that explains it.
Nothing explains Mark. Eduardo thinks he could spend a lifetime puzzling him out. He knows he wants too, despite everything, despite Mark’s indifference and how much Mark irritates him, lately.
The clatter of dishes from the back distracts him, or he lets it, just to avoid Chris’s steady gaze. The bar is mostly empty. It’s too late for lunch and far too early for anyone to be out drinking, and their waitress stares dreamily through the window while she wipes up a booth a few feet away. She’s pretty, dark hair and blue eyes like Mark’s, pretty in the way that most human girls are; he’s grown out of automatically assuming most of them are from back home, hiding their skin and poisoned claws with an ease Eduardo envies.
As soon as she’s gone, he turns to Chris. “Dustin’s right,” he says, “You do nag with your eyes.”
"That's so sweet," Chris says. "Remind me to return the compliment."
Eduardo holds up his hands. "I'm not getting involved.”
"Chicken."
He shrugs, flipping the page of his menu. “You know this computer stuff more than I do,” he says. "Do you think it's a good idea?"
"You worry too much," Chris says dryly. "How come I never noticed this before?"
Eduardo leans back in his chair. He watches a couple come in and seat themselves on the red cushioned stools at the bar. The guy can't keep his eyes off the girl. Eduardo rubs his elbow. "It's only a thousand dollars, right? It's not like I can't afford it.”
"I kind of hate you for being able to say that," Chris says.
Eduardo smiles, but he rubs at wrist, where his human skin is thinner. His true skin rises to the surface too easily lately, so he’s taken to wearing long sleeves and high collars more often, shirts buttoned all the way up. He no longer rolls up his sleeves. He catches himself talking out loud, in his room, when he’s alone. It’s not always in English, but it’s too often for him to feel comfortable.
A few weeks later, after he’s committed to Mark’s idea, he’s crossing campus when Divya steps in front of him. He nods to a side street and walks that way without waiting, like he expects Eduardo to just follow him.
Eduardo does.
Divya is cautious, like Eduardo should be, checking the area for threats before he starts talking. “Your friend’s avoiding me,” he says, flat, eyes narrowed.
“My- What?”
“Mark. He’s not answering his phone; he’s cancelling our meetings. What’s he up to?”
Eduardo blinks. “Yeah, Mark does that. Does he even know who you are?”
“Of course he does. He’s helping us out with Harvard Connection.”
“I,” Eduardo says. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Divya scowls. “And he’s unavailable a lot.”
Eduardo tucks his hands in the pockets of his jacket, turning against the wind, frowning at the busy street. “He never said anything about it. I wouldn’t worry too much. Mark’s pretty busy. There’s school stuff and, and family stuff, and he. He gets lost in code sometimes.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me? I know people, Saverin. I can make his life miserable.”
Eduardo turns back to him.
“Why Mark?”
Divya smiles. “We don’t have to be enemies, Saverin. Your pet is very good.”
“He’s not- I don’t control him,” Eduardo says. “I don’t know how it is with your twins, but-”
“We can’t all be Saverins.” He’s still smiling, looking at Eduardo like he has a secret.
“Funny,” Eduardo says, throat tight though there’s no way Divya could know for sure. “Cute, really.”
“Tell him to stop dicking around. I’m getting sick of this.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Eduardo says. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“Sure you can,” Divya says.
You don’t know Mark, Eduardo thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut.
~
Mark codes with complete focus, like he always has, and Eduardo paces, back and forth, back and forth.
Every time he tries to bring it up, the words stick in his throat, and he thinks about all the questions Mark could ask, tricky, sticky questions that Eduardo only knows one answer to.
He can’t tell Mark.
Even in a language Mark will never understand, Eduardo can’t.
“Stop pacing,” Mark says, “Come here.”
Eduardo does and Mark shows him their site. thefacebook.
The simple blue and white calls to him like the ocean calls to him, and for the first time in many months, Eduardo does not doubt that he is right, that this – thefacebook and Mark and Eduardo – is right. For the first time since he ran into Mark on campus, Eduardo wonders if he can merge his two worlds. His father and Mark, his family and everything he wants, all in one blue and white package.
It’s amazing.
“You have no idea what this is going to mean to my father,” he says, meaning, you have no idea what this means to me.
“Sure I do,” Mark says.
Eduardo grins, and gives Mark the Phoenix mailing list without much protest. Then he backs away and makes a phone call.
“Father,” Eduardo says, slipping from Portuguese to something else entirely, softer, wetter. Mark is wired in and even if he notices, Eduardo finds that he doesn’t truly care. “That opportunity? I was right about it.”
“Well?” his father says after a long beat, “Are you going to tell me about it?”
“It’s a social network,” he says. “An online social network. A final club of our own making. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. This is going to change the entire way they communicate and we need someone in here.”
His father says nothing. Mark chews on a Red Vine while he types. Eduardo thinks about resting his palm in the space between Mark’s shoulder blades. He imagines how warm it must be, Mark who is like a furnace, hot all the time. Instead he turns to face the wall, closes his eyes against it all.
“Father, I know this is unconventional. I know this isn’t how we normally do things, but they are changing and we need to change with them. We need to adapt.” Eduardo touches the crook of his elbow, trying to rub away the bumps that are starting to show through his skin.
“I am trusting you,” he says, after a long moment. “Make me proud, son.”
“I will,” Eduardo says and hangs up. His heart beats twice in his chest, loud and hard, but Mark is completely focused on his code.
“I take too many risks because of you,” he says, like he’s still talking to his father, but he’s slipping his phone in his pocket.
He reaches out and touches Mark’s shoulder. Mark doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t flinch like he used to, and Eduardo resists the urge to card his fingers through Mark’s hair. Instead, he thinks about a day when he could, when he could and Mark would lean into his touch, and Eduardo would no longer dream about the ocean.
~
"It's kind of cool," he says, when he's drink, when they're all really drunk, Eduardo and Chris and Dustin, sprawled out in their dorm. Eduardo's on the coffee table, Dustin on the couch, and Chris on the floor. Mark is-
Mark is wired in.
"This is more than cool, Wardo," Dustin says, poking his shoulder with his foot. "This is like. This is a thing. We already have hundreds of numbers-"
"What," Chris says, "No exact count?"
"Fuck off," Dustin says, but there isn't any heat to it. "We could reach everyone in the school."
"It really is brilliant, isn't it?" Eduardo props himself up on his elbows, skin sticking against the wood. He can see Mark through his open door, highlighted by the glow of his computer screen.
For all the money and fame and power in the world, Eduardo can't look away. This thing of theirs - of Mark's, really. Eduardo sometimes thinks he's just along for the ride - Eduardo doesn't really understand it, but he's not stupid. He knows thefacebook is more than he realizes, just by the way Mark talks about it, the light in his eyes, his absolute fixation on it.
Anything that can get Mark's attention, his sole focus, has to be worth it.
~
But Eduardo is stupid, sometimes, and he's blind more than he should be, when it comes to Mark. The paper crumples under his fingers; the words blur into meaningless nonsense. He can't breathe.
"This is a cease and desist letter," he says, heart painful in his chest. It's a cease and desist letter from Divya, and Eduardo can only think, does he know? Can he possibly know?
How can he not?
It's a legal action instead of the old ways, but the old ways are trickier, more conspicuous. The old ways leave Divya without any cards. If he knows. If-
There are people Divya has that Eduardo doesn’t, connections he can call on that Eduardo can’t, and any one of them would rise up to deal with it. Eduardo barely manages not to crumple the letter in his hand. He barely keeps himself under control, despite the bone-deep ache in his chest.
"I'm here to help you," Eduardo says while he's waiting for Mark to lock his dorm. "You know that, right?"
"Of course," Mark says. "Where are we meeting them?"
"Tell me about these things, okay? I can't help you if you keep it all to yourself."
"Wardo," Mark says. "Where are we meeting Christy and Alice?"
Eduardo sighs, wondering how Mark can think about meeting girls now, but then he tells him.
~
Eduardo is not really supposed to… with humans. It's too risky, even disregarding the attachment issues of his people, and it’s too dangerous, especially now that he relies partially on self-control to hide what lurks beneath, when his emotions are proving stronger than the ring he wears.
But Christy pulls him into the bathroom stall, hand tight on his wrist. She's demanding, and determined, and so much like the girls he grew up with, that it's hard to say no to her. Then she pulls open her top. She's all smooth skin like the girls back home, who cut neatly at the waist and are all human, all the way up. Girls who could step on land if they wanted; girls capable of hiding away what they are so easily that even their own kind can't always distinguish them.
His heart thumps, loud; a prickling grows in the small of his back, but Christy's skin stays soft, smooth, and he feels no scales. All he can think, all he thinks-
"Wow," he says, and then. And then.
Mark. On the other side of the stall, a thin piece of wood separating them, Eduardo can hear him, his tight, ragged breathing, and Christy doesn't care. She opens his belt and presses her hand inside, just like that, grinning and working her way down his body. Eduardo presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, hard enough that it hurts, that he can mostly stop paying attention to Mark and Alice; he can almost focus completely on Christy's mouth.
Wow.
~
Later, leaning against the bathroom door while the girls freshen up, Eduardo keeps glancing at Mark, sneaking looks to watch the flush fade from Mark's cheeks, to catch the quick grin when Mark meets his eyes.
And he's still thinking wow. Most of it has very little to do with Mark, and he’s still thinking it when Mark leaves his side to talk to Erica.
It's a relief, this break from the norm. He never thought he could feel anything like his without Mark, beyond Mark, and Eduardo can't tell where his reality ends and this world he wants, more than anything, begins. It's like he can see it merging together, what he is and Mark and thefacebook, into one neat cohesive pattern, like touching a fairytale that was never supposed to be true.
He wants it all.
~
He walks both the girls home, after talks of expansion and after Mark has lost himself to the siren call of his code, burying whatever he's thinking or feeling about Erica beneath it.
Christy says, "You want to come up?" lingering in front of the door. Over her shoulder, Alice smirks and shakes her head, and she disappears inside. Eduardo watches her go. He's still seeing a future, so very possible, one he shouldn't want at all.
"Not tonight," he says, voice softening when Christy's face flickers. "But what are you doing next Friday?"
She smiles, freely and openly, like Eduardo didn't even have to earn it. It startles him to see how natural it is. He kisses her goodnight, touching the side of her jaw to feel the soft, soft skin there.
He's still thinking wow.
~
"We're expanding. A few more schools for now," he says, toying with his pen. He has his feet up on his desk, unprofessional and cloddish, but his father can't see him, and Eduardo is CFO. "I think. In time, I think we could have all the major schools in the nation. I-"
Where would Mark stop?
Eduardo swallows, feeling dizzy from the sheer possibility of what they're doing. He doesn't understand code, but he gets what thefacebook is, this network of interpersonal relationships. He knows what it could be, what it could mean, because his people have been building the real life practicality for years. He closes his eyes. "I think we could be global."
The thrill of that overrides the silence at the other end, but Eduardo is used to his father. He knows how his father thinks. There isn't any reason to pull Eduardo out of this. Not when it's doing so well.
His father says, "We need more people involved in this."
Eduardo freezes, dropping the pen. It clatters on the desk, but he's frozen, cornered, and he can only listen. Words stick in his throat.
"Take this Mark to New York and introduce him to some of our people. You know the ones."
His father keeps talking; Eduardo hasn't said a word, voice lost to the clutches of the sea witch, but that hasn't ever stopped his father before. Mark and his. And their people. Eduardo's people. It's.
Eduardo drops his feet to the floor, leaning forward, curling in on himself.
"Mark doesn't want advertisers," Eduardo says, voice hoarse when he finds it again. "I've talked to him about it and he-"
"Convince him otherwise."
"I-" he says. "Of course, father."
Mark. Mark in New York.
Eduardo can barely fathom that, taking Mark to meet slick men in ties and business suits, smooth words and expensive watches that hide the truth. If anyone finds out about Mark, about how Eduardo looks at him-
Eduardo puts his head in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. He can't breathe.
His chest stays tight for the next week, and the week after. It’s hard to breathe while he’s buying tickets for New York and confirming appointment times. His head hurts when he’s trying to convince Mark to come with him, using all the charm he can, all the skills he knows from his mother. He’s distracted, and that’s dangerous. He forgets; he gets cornered.
"What can I do for you?" Eduardo says, eyes glancing to the side, looking for a way out. He's already blaming it on Mark, secretly in his head. Mark who rarely does anything he doesn't want to. Eduardo has no idea how to convince him otherwise.
"Oh, I have something you can do for me," Divya says, eyes bright. "Your little human stole our idea. Tell him to knock it off."
Eduardo buries his hands deeper in his coat pockets; he bites his lower lip. It's chapped from the wind. He really misses Miami summers. The water might be cold back home, but the sun was always warm, rarely hidden away by clouds and snow.
"Did Mark use any of your code?" Eduardo says. “He says he didn’t.”
"It was our idea," Divya says, jabbing his finger against Eduardo’s chest. "I thought hey, we could use his help. If a Saverin sees something in him. It’s a risk but why not? Why not. You're letting him screw us over."
"It's not like that," Eduardo says. He steps out of the way of a group of students passing by, backpacks and loud chatter cutting between them, acting as a buffer. "I don't control Mark."
"You really expect me to believe that?" Divya shakes his head. "Don't cross me, Saverin. Get control of your pet." He turns and walks away, but not before Eduardo catches the flash of color at his neck, just barely edging up over his collar, the copper of his family.
It's stupid to cross another family. It's even stupider to do it over a human, especially for a Saverin, and Eduardo can't afford for anyone to realize why.
Walking briskly through the bitter wind, Eduardo wonders. Mark is inattentive and rude and does what he wants, fuck the consequences. He can't even fathom what Mark thinks half the time. He could let go, if he needed to, if he wanted to. The ache would be bone-deep and probably permanent, but he could.
He doesn’t want to.
~
Christy has her headphones in, and Eduardo is thankful for that. This conversation is difficult enough as it is.
Mark shifts in his seat, frowning like he has the entire ride. "Why are we going to New York?"
"I want you to meet some people," Eduardo says.
Mark's eyebrows furrow; he looks sullen, and suddenly Eduardo wonders if Mark even looked into them, these men they're going to meet. Does Mark even know that they're connected to companies that donate very heavily to organizations that deal with ocean preservation and overfishing regulations and offshore drilling?
Eduardo looks out his window. Mark wouldn't even make the connection because Mark never asks. Mark never looks up. The knowledge tastes bitter, a headache blooming in his temple. This trip is going to sour right in front of him.
After, he wishes he'd gone shopping with Christy instead.
He'd barter cheap with a sea witch to take away the memories of every single meeting. It doesn't matter what she'd ask in return; right now, Eduardo would probably give up just about anything because Mark, the uncooperative moron, is oblivious to the subtle, cold grip of danger curling around Eduardo's spine.
He sees the way they look at Mark. He knows what they're thinking, and when they turn their cool, intent eyes on Eduardo, it's too close to the truth.
"Could you at least pretend to want to be here?" Eduardo says after the third meeting with Mr. Attina. He spent half of it fighting the flare of color and scales, and the other half stopping from strangling Mark himself. "For me, Mark? Could you do that?"
"Advertising will kill thefacebook," Mark says, cool and unrepentant. He shoves his food around on his plate, tines of his fork scratching against it.
Eduardo closes his eyes. He tries to relax his hands, both the one holding his fork and the one in his lap. He touches the phone in his pocket. It's been off since after the second meeting, the one where Mark made all those noises. Turning it on will only tell him what he already knows: several missed calls, some from Christy, more from his father. Or maybe not. Maybe he'll only find the crushing silence of disappointment.
A fine showing for a Saverin. But what’s one more black mark to his family name?
"Whatever," Eduardo says, flat. He drinks some of his water, wishing it was something stronger. Or saltier.
"You're angry."
"Of course I'm angry, Mark. I went through a lot trouble to set up these meetings."
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I’m CFO of this company, Mark. This is my job.”
"Ads aren't cool," Mark says. "They'll-"
"Kill the site. I heard you."
Mark sinks back into his seat, sullen. "Why aren't you listening to me?"
Eduardo sighs. "I don't want to fight," he says. "We can't blow off the next meeting. Please, don't be an ass. Then we can, we can go meet this Sean Parker of yours."
Eduardo smiles at the waitress, Maria, when she brings the check and waits for her to leave.
He has responsibilities to his family and to Mark. Eduardo doesn't know how to balance them anymore. He probably never did. It was stupid to try.
~
Sean Parker is thirty minutes late. Eduardo is tired. He has an entire log of voicemails to slog through tonight, the memory of cold eyes and judgment and of the work he’s going to have to do to spin this favorably. If he even can. And Mark doesn’t seem to care about any of that. Mark cares about meeting Sean Parker. Sean Parker: underage girls, drugs, partying, kicked out of one company and bankrupted another, drifting from one failure to another.
This is not who Eduardo wants representing their company.
Eduardo straightens out of his slouch when the man walks into the restaurant like he owns it, like he can do whatever he wants.
It’s not because Sean Parker has a presence, or because his swagger is just as irritating as Eduardo imagined, but because Eduardo’s skin scales up his spine, wraps around his elbows, and he swallows, thankful that he always wears long sleeves now.
Sean Parker is, he is-
Eduardo looks at him and sees a shark, teeth and hunger and danger. There is a flash of something, the way he looks at Eduardo when they shake hands, and Eduardo thinks about blood in the water, a single drop from a cut on his arm, and his father pulling him down, down and away to hide in a reef.
Eduardo swallows, and tries to relax his hand, calm his instincts. He drinks too-sweet appletinis, burning on the way down, gets his digs in, cheap shots that they are, ignoring Christy’s elbow each time it presses into his side.
Shark. Shark. Shark. Sharks are dangerous; sharks are one of the few natural predators Eduardo’s family has. Sharks and men and sea witches. And you can’t make deals with sharks just like you shouldn’t make deals with sea witches; you can’t reason with sharks, you can’t trust sharks.
It probably doesn’t help that Sean Parker wraps Mark around his finger in the span of a few minutes, charming him in a way that Eduardo never could with talk of marlins and trout. Fish. But Eduardo bites back most of the words on his tongue, holds his skin in as best he can by sheer force of will, and when he glances over, Mark’s not looking at him.
Mark never looks at him.
~
He lets Christy curl next to him in the hotel bed, sheets scratchier than the ones he normally has when he stays in hotels. He lets her touch him more than usual, not shying away like he usually does but settling his hand on her stomach when all he wants is to be submersed in sea water and feel the salt rough against his skin.
He stares at the ceiling, eyes adjusted to the darkness - he always forgets how bright it is here, even in the middle of the night - and Christy's hair in his face. It itches, but he doesn't push it away.
She’s completely human. He knows that now, and it’s a small comfort to know that she won’t drag him before the Council or make his chest so tight it feels like he hasn’t breathed in ages, but he pulls away. She’d let Sean Parker wrap her up with his buzzwords and the deceptive lure of his stories.
Shark.
~
Back at Harvard, Eduardo makes a point of stepping away from both Christy and Mark, citing school and the Phoenix and that damn chicken. It’s hard with Christy because she’s very determined, and it’s hard with Mark because –
It’s hard with Mark.
~
"I can't believe you're asking me to babysit your chicken," Chris says.
Eduardo pushes past him into the room. He sets the cage down on the coffee table and sits heavily on the couch; the bird - he's resisted naming it despite all of Dustin's suggestions - clucks. And clucks and clucks.
"It just keeps, it keeps clucking all the time. I can't sleep. Aren't they supposed to sleep at night?"
"You should probably read your chicken manual," Mark says. He keeps typing, not even looking away from his computer. "Or didn't they provide you with one?"
Eduardo sits up, hands planted behind him on the couch cushion, and glares at Mark's back. He's been avoiding Mark since Spring break, almost as much as he's been avoiding his father's voicemail. He only left one, but then, his father was never one for overkill, and Eduardo still hasn't listened to it.
He wants the sea; he'd settle for the damn river, but he can't leave his chicken unattended. He can’t take it to the beach either. And Mark-
"I could get you in," Eduardo says, deliberate and harsh in his native language. "Any final club you want. I could call in a few favors, pull some strings. You'd get in. But it's never going to be enough for you, is it?"
"Man," Dustin says. He's at his own computer, a Facebook page open on his screen, but he's turned towards Eduardo. Unlike Mark. "I think he's swearing you out."
Mark looks unconcerned. Or something. Whatever is going on in his head is a mystery.
Chris touches his shoulder. "Go lay down," he says quietly. "I'll watch your damn bird."
~
Mark wakes Eduardo up. Not really by touching him, but the faint impression of it lingers on Eduardo's shoulder.
He blinks, bleary, unfocused on anything except Mark. Everything is quiet, like Eduardo wishes it would be all the time, except Mark's mouth is a flat, annoyed line.
Looking away, he yawns, rubbing his face, and then he glares in the direction of his chicken, still clucking.
Then Mark hands him a newspaper.
~
"You planted the story about the chicken," Eduardo says, more calmly than he feels. He's leaning against the side of Widener Library, wrapped in a thin jacket. The weather is starting to turn, warmer and greener.
It won't be as warm as California.
"Forced animal cannibalism is a horrible thing," Divya says. "PETA must be in an uproar."
"Fish eat other fish," Eduardo says. "Marlins and the trout, Divya. We both know that."
Divya just smiles. He looks towards the greater part of campus. "They don't."
"This is low."
"As low as stealing our idea?"
"You know what I think? I don't think it has anything to do with the code or the idea." Eduardo pushes away from the building. He's taller than Divya, but Divya doesn't look at all intimidated. "You're pissed that Mark and I got there first."
"Sure," Divya says. Then he smiles, all teeth. "Maybe we should bring back the old ways, just this once. How good of a swimmer is Mark?"
Eduardo pitches his voice low, controlled despite the burning in his chest. He steps into Divya's space, closer than he's really comfortable with. "You're forgetting who I am."
Divya huffs, not quite amused. "Everyone knows about the Saverins," he says. “Even the humans.”
"They think she's a fairytale," Eduardo says. "It hardly matters." But he looks away.
Everyone does know about his family, about her, but the humans always get the ending wrong.
~
Lots of death. Lots of sea foam and even more blood. Humans might not be able to breathe underwater, but they’re sharks, every last one of them.
~
Mark says, "I'm going to California," because Sean Parker suggested it. He doesn't seem very concerned when Eduardo tells him about his own summer plans. He's going to New York for an internship with a company run by one of his own. It's only for the summer, only three months, but it's going to seem like forever.
He puts money in an account and gives Mark the paperwork at the interns’ interview. Eduardo gravitates towards the wall, pulling away from the cheering in the middle of the room. The new intern - Eduardo didn't catch his name - is still being congratulated by the others, given another shot of alcohol.
"This is kind of insane," Chris says, stepping out of the crowd.
"Yeah," Eduardo says. He leans back, tucking his hands in his pockets. "It really is."
They're both quiet for a while. Not that it makes much difference. It's so loud, people packed in this tiny room, the music all the way up, and everyone yelling so they can be heard.
Dustin's dancing. Eduardo tucks his chin down, hiding his smile.
Chris nudges him. "You're not coming with," he says.
"I can't. I have that internship," Eduardo says. His eyes drift to Mark. Mark who said, "You should think about coming out," like Eduardo can just hop on a plane whenever he wants, like he can just say no to his father and follow Mark wherever he goes.
Maybe a few months ago, he would have done it without thought or reservation, so enamored with Mark that the consequences didn't matter until it was too late.
And now, Mark is enamored with a shark.
"You think I should come out," Eduardo says. Mark and the new intern are bent over a computer, probably talking about code. Who knows? It's not really Eduardo's world. “Screw the internship and come out.”
"It's a great opportunity," Chris says. His voice stays even, and he looks at Eduardo without guile.
"It means a lot to my father," Eduardo says. He hasn't told anyone, not even Christy, that his father probably arranged the entire thing. Eduardo needs to start making his mark in this world. Facebook isn't enough for his father; Mark isn't enough for his father.
Eduardo closes his eyes. He can't block out the sound.
~
New York is exactly what Eduardo expects it to be.
The internship is a great opportunity; without his father pulling strings and calling in favors, he never would have gotten it. He knows he'll learn a lot but his mind is in an entirely different place. For once, it's not with the sea.
The summer drags on; the air is hot and humid, but the water is cold. Even dressed in long sleeves and slacks, Eduardo can't feel his toes. Sometimes, he thinks it'd be so much easier to just return home. Take off his ring and forget everything as he disappears beneath the waves.
He toys with his phone, still in his pocket, and thinks about the last time he talked to Mark.
Mark is on the other side of the country; Eduardo can't sit on his bed and pretend to spill secrets in a language Mark will never understand, and he feels the distance a little more each day. But his skin stays soft and human, and Christy is familiar, despite her constant phone calls and text messages and her increasingly jealous tendencies.
On the phone, Eduardo says softly, in English, "Are you even listening to me?" but Mark has coding to do and he's gone before Eduardo gets an answer.
Sometimes, he calls Dustin next, or Chris, but usually Eduardo drops his phone by his bedside table and slips out the door to disappear in the masses on the streets. It's almost as addicting as the sea, riding the subways all day, stepping off one train just to climb onto another. He should be looking for advertisers; he should be focusing on his internship. Today, he keeps his phone with him, so he's there to answer it when it rings.
"Your schedule is free tonight," his father says, gruff like usual, no hello or how are you. "I'm in town."
"I," Eduardo says. “I’ll make time.”
And he does, because this is his father, and there's no reason to say no.
The restaurant is extravagant. Eduardo's eaten in places like this before, and he's always appreciated them, but they're not here for the food. His father is early, and the table he's at is set for two more.
His father is not an imposing man, physically. He's just as thin - scrawny, Eduardo thinks wryly - as his son, but when he looks at Eduardo and says, "I hear you're dating a human," Eduardo can't meet his eyes.
"She has connections," he says, mouth twisting unbidden. Like Sean Parker. "Important connections."
"A human."
"It's not like that," Eduardo says. Not with Christy.
A waitress stops by and takes Eduardo's drink order. She has dark hair and blue eyes, a pretty smile; It’s easier to look at her than his father. He watches her leave.
"Eduardo," his father says. "I don't know what to do with you."
"I'm doing fine," he says. "Facebook is continuing to grow. We have over three hundred thousand members. Three hundred thousand. We're on two continents."
"You're confident.” His father sets his glass down on the table. "I like that. But you are my son and a Saverin. You will be successful."
Eduardo realizes he's grinding his teeth. He opens his mouth. "Facebook is going to change the world," he says. "I'm part of that."
"Ah," his father says, rising. Eduardo looks around. The male he picks out almost immediately, but it takes him a moment to realize that the woman on his arm is not human.
Eduardo stares as his father greets them warmly.
"Eduardo," he says. "These are the Andrinas."
Eduardo shakes Mr. Andrina's hand, and his father says, "My son has come into his own," and Mr. Andrina's smile reaches his eyes and he clasps his other hand on top of Eduardo's.
When he says, "That's wonderful," Eduardo can hear the warmth in it.
He can almost feel the scales beneath his skin.
"Is it true," Mrs. Andrina says when they’ve all been seated. "That you founded Facebook?"
"I, it's," Eduardo says, feeling flushed. "Yeah. Co-founded."
She smiles indulgently at him, amused, and takes her seat. She orders a glass of wine when the waitress returns - she can't take her eyes off Mrs. Andrina either, fumbling with Eduardo’s drink, a little clumsy when she leaves.
"It's going to change the way people use the internet," Eduardo says, trying to regain his footing.
"And we're right there to control it," Mrs. Andrina says. "Excellent."
The conversation turns towards other business matters, breaking only when they order their food and once again when it’s brought out. Eduardo stays quiet for most of it, pushing his food around on his plate. His father is courting them, he realizes, rebuilding connections his ancestor severed years ago.
"Your son is right about one thing," Mr. Andrina says. Eduardo feels a little like he's not even in the room anymore. "The internet is changing their society. We need to be with it. How are you getting our people involved?"
“Advertisement,” his father says.
"Mark doesn't want advertising," Eduardo says.
His father is too controlled to let his silverware clatter against the plate. He barely shows a reaction at all. His gaze sharpens, and his mouth turns down at the corners, and that’s it. “Then it’s your job to convince him otherwise,” he says, cutting his steak methodically. “It’s not about what he wants.”
"Father," Eduardo says carefully. "Mark is human."
"They are rather problematic, aren't they?" Mrs. Andrina says. “But I suppose there's always the old ways.”
Eduardo nearly drops his fork. He stares at his plate, at the flounder he's mostly just pushed around.
"Luckily," Eduardo's father says blandly; Eduardo looks up, heart in his throat. His father is watching him carefully. "It shouldn't come to that."
Eduardo says very little the rest of the night.
~
"We don't keep to the old ways," Eduardo says, trying to wave down a cab. He tried whistling, but his mouth is too dry.
"Many families still do." His father's gaze is considering. He can’t meet his father’s eyes, but he’s been looking at Eduardo like that for most of the night.
"But we don't. Mother doesn't."
"Your mother sent us here to protect our home. Have you forgotten that?"
"No," Eduardo says. "Of course not. I just-" He looks away. Traffic is a mess, honking cars and pedestrians darting across the street. It's not just Mark that could be an issue. It's Dustin and Chris, both high ranking members of Facebook. They would need to be protected too. "Are humans really so different?"
Eduardo's father stops him. His eyes are sharp. "What is this boy to you?"
"My friend," Eduardo says. "Mark is- my friend."
"He's not charmed."
"He's not- he’s not receptive to it."
"You're his friend."
Eduardo feels his face heat, but he doesn't look away. "I am." He holds his father’s gaze, mouth dry, forcing his fingers to stay still. His heart knocks against his ribs twice. "I knew he was going to do great things." he says. "Father, Mark can't be cut out. Facebook- Mark is Facebook. He's the driving force behind it. If we do that, then this entire thing will collapse."
"He will betray you," his father says.
Eduardo feels like he’s trying to outswim a speedboat, nerves wrecked through desperation. "You don't know that."
"He is human,” his father says dismissively. “Remember that. It's their nature."
His father’s whistle cuts through the sounds of the city; three cabs and a Mercedes nearly crash trying to get to him, and the people around them stop walking and stare. He opens the door of one cab, waving away the others. Before he gets in, he turns back to Eduardo.
“Hey,” the cabbie says, “I don’t got all-“
“Quiet,” his father says without looking back. The cabbie’s face goes slack, and he sinks back into his seat, eyes focused on Eduardo’s father. "Take a few days. Convince him that he needs you and he needs advertising. When you get back we'll set up some more of our people in the company."
"Of course," Eduardo says, looking away.
~
Eduardo cannot breathe.
Part Three
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Social Network
Pairings/Characters: Mark/Eduardo
Word Count: ~37,000
Disclaimer: Don’t own.
Summary: Canon compliant AU: When he's sent to infiltrate human society in order to protect his people, Eduardo meets Mark for the second time, and his instantaneous attachment might cost him everything.
A/N: Special thanks to
becca_radcgg for the beta. Written for the thesocialbbang challenge. Master Post. Check out the amazing art by
chosenfire28Eduardo’s feet are still a little damp from the Harbor when he wanders into Kirkland and knocks on Mark’s door. Dustin answers in sweats, bleary eyed and yawning.
“It’s seven,” Eduardo says.
“Mark’s out,” Dustin says, and when Eduardo just shrugs, he adds, straight-faced, “I knew you liked me best." Then he grins.
Eduardo pushes past him and slumps on the couch. The television is on, volume low, and he toes off his shoes, probably scuffing them, and then props his feet up on the table. Mostly, he’s feeling lazy, and a little apathetic. Withdrawal from the sea, probably. It’s only been three weeks, and he’s been down to the Harbor almost every other day. It’s an ache that won’t go away.
He’s tanner, three hundred thousand dollars richer and probably thinner, and he feels the absence of the sea in his head acutely, something like homesickness. Like when he first came to the surface before he found Mark.
Mark who has been gone an awful lot lately, more than Eduardo’s ever known him to be.
“What’s on?”
“Some show about pirates.” Dustin shrugs, then stretches, yawning again. He settles on the other end of the couch, and they’re silent, mostly, lulled by the voice-overs.
“Destroying my childhood dreams,” Dustin says, muffled by the cushion. “I used to think being a pirate was the coolest thing until I learned about scurvy.”
Eduardo laughs instead of telling Dustin about the time he met a real pirate, instead of showing him the scar on his hip from the asshole’s harpoon. “Take your vitamins, man. You’ll be fine.”
He debates the merits of getting a beer from the mini-fridge for a good five minutes while Dustin curls up tight, pressing his face against the cushion, flipping channels during commercial breaks, rapid flashes of color that hurt Eduardo’s eyes.
“That’s bizarre,” Dustin says, pausing. They both watch a fish change colors.
“The cuttlefish,” Eduardo says, “It’s kind of cool, how they change colors. You know, it’s not just for camouflage. They also do it to communicate with each other. It’s like their own personal social network on their skin.” He falls silent, and closes his eyes, thinking about home. He touches the inside of his elbow absently.
“How do you know so much about fish?”
He says, not opening his eyes, “I’m from Florida, man. You pick things up.”
“You know that doesn’t make any sense, right?”
Eduardo gets up and goes for that beer. He brings Dustin one, but he presses the bottom against Dustin’s forehead, making him jerk and swear, dropping the remote. Eduardo picks it up and changes the channel and keeps changing it until he pauses on the weather channel, watching the cloud formations over eastern Massachusetts.
“You really made three hundred thousand dollars this summer?”
“Yeah,” Eduardo says, trying not to think about how Mark hasn’t said anything about it.
He told Mark first, of course, but he’s also been spending a lot of time down by the waterfront, and in expensive hotels that still have bathtubs; the urge to go home gets stronger and stronger the less Mark says.
He grins and clinks his bottle against Dustin’s. “To the weather channel.”
“That’s insane,” Dustin says, and he’s still half laughing when he drinks.
Eduardo drops his head back against the couch, watching through his eyelashes. He’s half asleep when the door opens, beer bottle loose in his hand. He rolls his head back to watch Mark come in. There’s a hint of color, lipstick or chapstick, on Mark’s collar. Eduardo stares at it, and then he trains his eyes back on the television and flips back to the pirates.
“You’re right about the scurvy,” he says, hand tight around the bottle. Then: “Where were you?”
Mark shrugs. “I met a girl,” he says, offhand, like it’s really no big deal.
“A-“ Eduardo say, sitting up. “A girl.”
Mark looks at Eduardo like he’s being an idiot, but there’s a tiny curl to the corner of his mouth, barely there and completely self-satisfied, and Eduardo wants to scream.
“And you’re.” His chest feels like there’s a huge gaping hole, right in the center. “Dating her.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You like her, then,” Eduardo says, not meeting anyone’s eyes, curling his fingers in the couch cushions.
Mark frowns. Eduardo looks away. He catches the look on Dustin’s face, something like pity.
“That’s awesome, man,” he says. Mark nods, a smug curl to the corner of his mouth. “Good for you.”
“How’d you meet her?” Dustin asks, but Mark’s focused on Eduardo, looking suspicious so Eduardo forces the smile on his face and he stays until he can’t stand it anymore, until his skin feels like it’s crawling, spiking up, probably showing so everyone can see it.
How stupid he’s been.
“You’re leaving?”
Eduardo doesn’t look up from his shoelaces. “I have. I have that thing, remember?”
“Right,” Mark says, like there really is a thing. He probably thinks there is. How would he know otherwise?
Eduardo steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him, gripping the door handle long after it’s closed. Then he walks away, not looking back, hands tightly clenched and tucked in his pockets. He shoves open the outer door and steps into the cool night air. There are people everywhere. Even this late, they’re all around, walking and laughing, and Eduardo can’t stand to look at any of them.
He ducks around the corner of the building, out of sight, and he puts a hand against the wall to prop himself up. He tells himself to breathe, to fight it as the itching and prickling over his spine intensifies, thickens and spreads out, curling around to his front. He breathes out, staring at the red patch on his hand, like his skin’s been scraped up, at the slender thread of gold that disappears beneath his sleeve.
He rips open his cuff, button hitting the ground and rolling away, and shoves his sleeve up, tracing the golden spiral all the way up to his elbow where it pools with green. He touches his upper arm through his sleeve, feeling the scales, the patterns, staring at them blindly.
Eduardo stumbles backwards. He has to get out of here, away from people. He knows what happens to humans that find out. He knows; he’s heard the stories, and-
Someone touches his arm.
Eduardo jerks, trying to pull away, shoving his elbow up, but it’s knocked away, and-
It’s Divya.
“What are you doing here?” Eduardo says sharply. Mark’s just upstairs. “You don’t hang out around here.”
“I was just,” he says shaking loose of Eduardo’s grasp, “walking through. Are you okay?”
Eduardo grips the front of his shirt. He pushes him back. “You need to leave. Now.”
Divya starts to pull his hand away, but then stops. He’s looking down, eyes on Eduardo’s arm. “Come with me,” he says. He pulls down Eduardo’s sleeve, covering up his skin. “Come on.”
“There are people. We can’t go–”
“Shut up.” He yanks Eduardo’s elbow until he follows. Only a few blocks, one turn and then another, and then Divya stops and lets go. Eduardo leans against the side of the building; he looks up at the lettering above them, bold black. Divya has a key. Eduardo doesn’t ask, breathing slowly through his mouth, thinking as blankly as possible as Divya pulls him through the doors. Eduardo follows all the way through the hallway until he realizes where he’s being taken.
“No, man,” he says, but Divya sets his palms flat on Eduardo’s chest and shoves him backwards.
Eduardo hits the water hard. The woosh around him is mocking, and he sinks to the bottom, startled by the burn of chlorine, unfamiliar and unwelcome, chafing his skin. He chokes and claws at his throat, his chest, until his body eases, relaxes into the submersion and he settles into the deepest corner of the pool. He curls his arms around his knees – he shouldn’t still have knees, not like this, and it takes him a second to remember his father’s ring, still on his finger.
He doesn’t think much, and he lets himself breathe, as much as the chlorine will let him, and stares straight ahead. Not much to look at, not like back home, with all the fish and plants and creatures most humans don’t even know exist, but Eduardo watches the other side of the pool, just in case, ears straining for the slightest disturbance in the water.
It’s a long time before he surfaces, water dripping from his hair, and pulls himself half way out, elbows resting on the ledge. His eyes burn and his lungs ache.
“Better?”
“I hate chlorine,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
When he drops his hand, they both stare at the red, at the slender thread of gold that spirals up his arm, pools and mixes with green in his elbow and spikes up to his shoulder, covering human skin like armor.
“Green and red and gold,” Divya muses. “You’re a Saverin.”
Water drips into his eyes when Eduardo looks up. “You really going to tell me that you didn’t know that?”
He smiles. “I know people. Divya,” he says. “But you probably already know that.”
He did. Eduardo did his homework: Divya is a Narendra, a family still connected in way that Eduardo’s hasn’t been in generations, the black mark of his ancestry still hanging over his name, wrapping around their every move and ambition like seaweed.
“Thanks,” Eduardo says, “For.”
Divya just nods.
Eduardo pulls himself out of the pool. His clothes are heavy, soaked and dripping, spilling everywhere. The water seeps into the fabric of Divya’s slacks, but his eyes are intent on Eduardo.
“How’d you get a key?”
“How do you not have one?”
“I hate chlorine,” Eduardo says. It’s still burning his eyes.
“You go out to the beaches.”
“Sometimes.” He sits in Mark’s room, now, instead, when the call of the sea gets too strong. “When I have to.”
“What happened?”
Eduardo looks away. His hair is plastered to his forehead. He pushes it back, knowing it’s going to be sticking up everywhere.
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re close to the human,” Divya says knowingly. “And you’re a Saverin.”
“Stay away from him. He’s outside of why I’m here.”
“Really,” Divya says, drawling, “you really are a Saverin, aren’t you? Relax. I’m not going to hurt him. He’s just. An interesting choice.”
“It’s not like that,” Eduardo says. It sounds weak. It is weak. “You think they’d let me come here?”
“So what happened?” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
Eduardo watches the patches of red and gold and green fade until there is nothing left but human skin.
Mark owes him nothing. Mark’s never owed him anything, Eduardo’s own stupid daydreams aside. Mark is human and Eduardo is not, and there’s no way it would ever work, the two of them, even if the thought of walking away cuts him right to his bones.
“Stupidity,” he says.
~
He’s supposed to be studying, but Eduardo sits on the floor in the stacks, reading stories about his people. It’s the closest he’s ever going to get to his own stories, the truth hidden in these watered down and misinterpreted tales.
“I can’t believe I was going to tell him,” he says, tracing the words in a musty, ill-used and forgotten book, reading lines of fiction that feel more real than anything Eduardo’s encountered up here, anything that isn’t Mark.
He pulls out his phone.
“Father,” Eduardo says, “I’d like to set up a meeting with some of your contacts in the area.”
“And your mysterious opportunity?”
“It was hardly mysterious,” Eduardo says.
“You would tell me nothing about it.”
“No I just. It’s time I focused. It was a risk. Sometimes they work out.” He looks up, expecting Mark to be at his computer, but Eduardo is in a forgotten corner of the library. He’s alone. “Sometimes they don’t.”
~
“So,” Eduardo says, shoulder warm against Mark’s. “How’s it going with Erica?”
“Great.” Mark drinks from his spiked punch and adds, grimacing, “She goes to BU. Unfortunate, but.”
“She has you,” Eduardo says dryly.
Mark nods, and Eduardo snorts into his hand, pretends his wiping his mouth.
It’s irritating, how human Mark is. How Mark he is.
It’s even more irritating how Eduardo doesn’t really care. They’re three or four beers into the night, away from most of the people because Mark doesn’t feel like socializing, and Eduardo just wants to stick close to him. He’s tried cutting himself off completely; limiting how much time he spends in Mark’s dorm, on his bed, spilling secrets he shouldn’t, breaking all the important laws. It isn’t working.
“You should meet her,” Mark says.
“Yeah, sure,” Eduardo says, looking away. He’s not ready for that, controlling his skin around the girl Mark chose over him.
It’s a stupid comparison. It’s not like Mark knew he had that choice. Eduardo is –
He is what he is, and it’s just not normal to be second. Not to a human.
Eduardo sighs, shifting away from the warmth of Mark’s shoulder.
“I told you I didn’t want to come to this,” Mark says. “I have coding to do.”
“It’ll do you good,” Eduardo says absently.
“According to who?” Mark frowns at him. “You always claim it will be fun, even though it invariably isn’t. It’s nothing more than a waste of my time.”
Eduardo shrugs, shifting into a looser slouch against the wall. He wishes he was drunker. Or Mark was drunker, so his bitching would be more cutting. Eduardo likes Mark like that, which isn’t fair to say, since Eduardo usually likes Mark at all times, even when he’s being an asshole.
Mark is looking at him. Eduardo is aware of it immediately, prickling at his neck.
“What?”
“I don’t understand it,” Mark says. “Why you’re always around.”
Eduardo glances sideways at him. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“The bit about me being an asshole? Yeah,” Mark says, smirking. “You do that when you’re drunk.”
“I am a little drunk.”
They share a grin, the grin of the I’m-a-little-drunk-club, and Eduardo thinks, very clearly and without slurring, I want to kiss you.
Mark frowns, tilting his head. Eduardo flushes. He looks away. Dustin and Chris are talking with some girls near the drinks and the food.
“That’s not Portuguese,” Mark says. “It’s not a romance language at all, is it?”
“I-“
Mark watches him. He waits, and Eduardo can’t think of a single good lie to tell.
“It’s a dialect,” Eduardo says finally, after the moment’s stretched too long. “A native dialect of Brazil.”
Mark nods. “You speak it with your father, sometimes.”
“Eavesdropping?” Eduardo says, suddenly far too sober for any AEPi party.
“You talk to him in my room. If you cared what I overhear, you’d go back to your own dorm.”
Eduardo rubs his face, mostly to shield himself from Mark’s gaze. “I hate how you’re still so logical when you’re drunk. Don’t you ever cut loose?”
“I am cutting loose,” Mark says, completely straight-faced.
Eduardo cracks up, grinning widely. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I appreciate that.”
Eduardo is warm, more than a simple alcohol flush or the absurd heat of the night. It’s stupid. Eduardo knows better. But he nudges Mark’s shoulder and says, “Hey, you want to get out of here? You were right, this is kind of lame.”
Mark is still frowning a little, eyebrows drawn together, and watching Eduardo with those far too blue eyes. “I told you it would be.”
Eduardo rolls his eyes, prodding at Mark’s shoulder until he stops slouching against the wall. “Yeah, alright, the great Mark Zuckerberg, always right.”
“Just as long as you know that.”
“I’ll remember it forever,” Eduardo vows, one hand over his heart and the other between Mark’s shoulder blades as he guides him out of the room.
~
The chirp of his phone wakes him up. Bleary eyed, it takes him a moment to focus.
read marks blog
Eduardo stares at the text, heart beating in his throat. He fumbles with his keypad.
what
And then he starts his computer, waiting for it to load.
trust me dude u want to see this
~
Erica Albright is a bitch.
The knot in Eduardo’s chest frays open, splitting apart as he reads angry, spitting words on Mark’s blog. It’s like he can breathe again, even if it is only a little, even if he feels like he’s still gasping.
Eduardo doesn’t think to turn off his lights. He’s not sure he actually locked his dorm room, but he’s across campus quickly, legs burning as he climbs the Kirkland stairs, heart beating loudly in his chest as he knocks on the door.
Chris lets him in, but Shark Week is on, so his attention is gone, but that’s okay. Eduardo’s already looking past him.
“I’m here for you,” Eduardo says because he’ll always be there for Mark, and Dustin, drunk in the background, laughs at him.
Eduardo is subtle only to Mark.
He watches Dustin roll his eyes as he caves, because it was ridiculously easy for him to give in and let Mark have what he wants, an algorithm for a website that’s more about pissing people off than anything else. It’s so easy to ignore that this could be a black mark on his record, that it could be used against him in the future. His father.
Eduardo gives it to him anyway.
He gives it to him, writing on the window with a black grease marker, and then he fidgets in the background until they crash the servers.
~
They crash the servers.
~
“Don’t you think maybe you should lay low for a little bit?”
Mark turns to him, turns away from his computer, face curious and questioning.
“You crashed the servers in a matter of hours,” Eduardo says. “And I helped. And that’s going to attract some unwanted attention. From the girls on campus at the very least.”
“Oh? Has something happened?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Eduardo twists his father’s ring. “Mark. You need to be more careful. This isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
Mark shrugs, resuming his attention on his computer. “They won’t link it to you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“I’m not-” Eduardo stares at him, feeling helpless. “It’s not that, Mark. It’s not that at all.”
He doesn't care about being linked to this; this isn't about him, even when it is. People, certain people, are going to start noticing that Eduardo hangs out with a human, that he's not pursuing the duty of all those that come to the surface. He’s president of the Harvard Investor’s Association - and it’s something. It’s something. And his father is at home, away from phones or computers or any form of instant communication, visiting his mother.
He imagines what she’d say about Mark.
The prickle along the back of his neck, the insides of his elbows, the length of his spine is near constant now, and Eduardo keeps playing with his ring, pushing it down until it cuts into the skin between his fingers. I’m trying to protect you, he thinks, but Eduardo lets it drop.
He lets it go, but it stings, irritating in his head. Mark won’t listen to him, or heed his advice, when Eduardo knows what dangers are out there, when Eduardo just knows better. Humans are irresponsible and careless, spilling oil and exploring spaces where they’re not wanted, getting involved when they shouldn’t.
He starts to spend more time with Dustin and Chris, dragging them to bars, unsurprised when Mark usually declines the invite. He spreads his homework out on their coffee table, scuffed and nicked on the surface. He goes to AEPi parties without heckling Mark into coming. But when he shows up to Caribbean night, Eduardo’s already a little drunk, off both the fruit punch and the Phoenix, and sometimes, he’s just glad to see Mark, even with all the irritation.
“I have an idea,” Mark says, but he can’t look directly at him.
Eduardo feels like he’s actually been physically punched. It’s freezing, and Eduardo is curling in, tightly wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to contain his true skin.
He’s a little shocked. Mark came to him, and Eduardo remembers what it was like to slip past the guards when he was younger, to duck around the perimeter patrols, all the way up to the beach. He remembers the wrench in his gut when he first saw Mark, sinking below the surface, Eduardo’s hands slippery against the algae on the pier’s support beam.
Despite everything, Mark’s surprise and obvious dismay about the Phoenix, he’s warm in his chest and he says yes. Yes, whatever Mark wants.
~
“You’re right,” Mark says, “It was probably a diversity thing.”
~
“You have no idea,” Eduardo says when the door shuts behind him. He doesn’t go back to Caribbean night. He ducks into an empty hallway and leans against the wall. It’s more than a simple diversity thing. The final clubs were always in his future, the place where great men are born, where the connections of the future are made.
Where Mark, who doesn’t think Eduardo could get in on his own merit, wants to be.
He listens to the slap of Mark’s flip-flops against the tile floor. He presses the back of his hand against his mouth and Eduardo thinks, it was probably my father pulling strings, but that knowledge doesn’t lessen the sting.
~
“I don’t really know what this means,” he tells Chris later. “I don’t really get his computer stuff.”
“You know how Mark is,” Chris says, like that explains it.
Nothing explains Mark. Eduardo thinks he could spend a lifetime puzzling him out. He knows he wants too, despite everything, despite Mark’s indifference and how much Mark irritates him, lately.
The clatter of dishes from the back distracts him, or he lets it, just to avoid Chris’s steady gaze. The bar is mostly empty. It’s too late for lunch and far too early for anyone to be out drinking, and their waitress stares dreamily through the window while she wipes up a booth a few feet away. She’s pretty, dark hair and blue eyes like Mark’s, pretty in the way that most human girls are; he’s grown out of automatically assuming most of them are from back home, hiding their skin and poisoned claws with an ease Eduardo envies.
As soon as she’s gone, he turns to Chris. “Dustin’s right,” he says, “You do nag with your eyes.”
"That's so sweet," Chris says. "Remind me to return the compliment."
Eduardo holds up his hands. "I'm not getting involved.”
"Chicken."
He shrugs, flipping the page of his menu. “You know this computer stuff more than I do,” he says. "Do you think it's a good idea?"
"You worry too much," Chris says dryly. "How come I never noticed this before?"
Eduardo leans back in his chair. He watches a couple come in and seat themselves on the red cushioned stools at the bar. The guy can't keep his eyes off the girl. Eduardo rubs his elbow. "It's only a thousand dollars, right? It's not like I can't afford it.”
"I kind of hate you for being able to say that," Chris says.
Eduardo smiles, but he rubs at wrist, where his human skin is thinner. His true skin rises to the surface too easily lately, so he’s taken to wearing long sleeves and high collars more often, shirts buttoned all the way up. He no longer rolls up his sleeves. He catches himself talking out loud, in his room, when he’s alone. It’s not always in English, but it’s too often for him to feel comfortable.
A few weeks later, after he’s committed to Mark’s idea, he’s crossing campus when Divya steps in front of him. He nods to a side street and walks that way without waiting, like he expects Eduardo to just follow him.
Eduardo does.
Divya is cautious, like Eduardo should be, checking the area for threats before he starts talking. “Your friend’s avoiding me,” he says, flat, eyes narrowed.
“My- What?”
“Mark. He’s not answering his phone; he’s cancelling our meetings. What’s he up to?”
Eduardo blinks. “Yeah, Mark does that. Does he even know who you are?”
“Of course he does. He’s helping us out with Harvard Connection.”
“I,” Eduardo says. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Divya scowls. “And he’s unavailable a lot.”
Eduardo tucks his hands in the pockets of his jacket, turning against the wind, frowning at the busy street. “He never said anything about it. I wouldn’t worry too much. Mark’s pretty busy. There’s school stuff and, and family stuff, and he. He gets lost in code sometimes.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me? I know people, Saverin. I can make his life miserable.”
Eduardo turns back to him.
“Why Mark?”
Divya smiles. “We don’t have to be enemies, Saverin. Your pet is very good.”
“He’s not- I don’t control him,” Eduardo says. “I don’t know how it is with your twins, but-”
“We can’t all be Saverins.” He’s still smiling, looking at Eduardo like he has a secret.
“Funny,” Eduardo says, throat tight though there’s no way Divya could know for sure. “Cute, really.”
“Tell him to stop dicking around. I’m getting sick of this.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Eduardo says. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“Sure you can,” Divya says.
You don’t know Mark, Eduardo thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut.
~
Mark codes with complete focus, like he always has, and Eduardo paces, back and forth, back and forth.
Every time he tries to bring it up, the words stick in his throat, and he thinks about all the questions Mark could ask, tricky, sticky questions that Eduardo only knows one answer to.
He can’t tell Mark.
Even in a language Mark will never understand, Eduardo can’t.
“Stop pacing,” Mark says, “Come here.”
Eduardo does and Mark shows him their site. thefacebook.
The simple blue and white calls to him like the ocean calls to him, and for the first time in many months, Eduardo does not doubt that he is right, that this – thefacebook and Mark and Eduardo – is right. For the first time since he ran into Mark on campus, Eduardo wonders if he can merge his two worlds. His father and Mark, his family and everything he wants, all in one blue and white package.
It’s amazing.
“You have no idea what this is going to mean to my father,” he says, meaning, you have no idea what this means to me.
“Sure I do,” Mark says.
Eduardo grins, and gives Mark the Phoenix mailing list without much protest. Then he backs away and makes a phone call.
“Father,” Eduardo says, slipping from Portuguese to something else entirely, softer, wetter. Mark is wired in and even if he notices, Eduardo finds that he doesn’t truly care. “That opportunity? I was right about it.”
“Well?” his father says after a long beat, “Are you going to tell me about it?”
“It’s a social network,” he says. “An online social network. A final club of our own making. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. This is going to change the entire way they communicate and we need someone in here.”
His father says nothing. Mark chews on a Red Vine while he types. Eduardo thinks about resting his palm in the space between Mark’s shoulder blades. He imagines how warm it must be, Mark who is like a furnace, hot all the time. Instead he turns to face the wall, closes his eyes against it all.
“Father, I know this is unconventional. I know this isn’t how we normally do things, but they are changing and we need to change with them. We need to adapt.” Eduardo touches the crook of his elbow, trying to rub away the bumps that are starting to show through his skin.
“I am trusting you,” he says, after a long moment. “Make me proud, son.”
“I will,” Eduardo says and hangs up. His heart beats twice in his chest, loud and hard, but Mark is completely focused on his code.
“I take too many risks because of you,” he says, like he’s still talking to his father, but he’s slipping his phone in his pocket.
He reaches out and touches Mark’s shoulder. Mark doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t flinch like he used to, and Eduardo resists the urge to card his fingers through Mark’s hair. Instead, he thinks about a day when he could, when he could and Mark would lean into his touch, and Eduardo would no longer dream about the ocean.
~
"It's kind of cool," he says, when he's drink, when they're all really drunk, Eduardo and Chris and Dustin, sprawled out in their dorm. Eduardo's on the coffee table, Dustin on the couch, and Chris on the floor. Mark is-
Mark is wired in.
"This is more than cool, Wardo," Dustin says, poking his shoulder with his foot. "This is like. This is a thing. We already have hundreds of numbers-"
"What," Chris says, "No exact count?"
"Fuck off," Dustin says, but there isn't any heat to it. "We could reach everyone in the school."
"It really is brilliant, isn't it?" Eduardo props himself up on his elbows, skin sticking against the wood. He can see Mark through his open door, highlighted by the glow of his computer screen.
For all the money and fame and power in the world, Eduardo can't look away. This thing of theirs - of Mark's, really. Eduardo sometimes thinks he's just along for the ride - Eduardo doesn't really understand it, but he's not stupid. He knows thefacebook is more than he realizes, just by the way Mark talks about it, the light in his eyes, his absolute fixation on it.
Anything that can get Mark's attention, his sole focus, has to be worth it.
~
But Eduardo is stupid, sometimes, and he's blind more than he should be, when it comes to Mark. The paper crumples under his fingers; the words blur into meaningless nonsense. He can't breathe.
"This is a cease and desist letter," he says, heart painful in his chest. It's a cease and desist letter from Divya, and Eduardo can only think, does he know? Can he possibly know?
How can he not?
It's a legal action instead of the old ways, but the old ways are trickier, more conspicuous. The old ways leave Divya without any cards. If he knows. If-
There are people Divya has that Eduardo doesn’t, connections he can call on that Eduardo can’t, and any one of them would rise up to deal with it. Eduardo barely manages not to crumple the letter in his hand. He barely keeps himself under control, despite the bone-deep ache in his chest.
"I'm here to help you," Eduardo says while he's waiting for Mark to lock his dorm. "You know that, right?"
"Of course," Mark says. "Where are we meeting them?"
"Tell me about these things, okay? I can't help you if you keep it all to yourself."
"Wardo," Mark says. "Where are we meeting Christy and Alice?"
Eduardo sighs, wondering how Mark can think about meeting girls now, but then he tells him.
~
Eduardo is not really supposed to… with humans. It's too risky, even disregarding the attachment issues of his people, and it’s too dangerous, especially now that he relies partially on self-control to hide what lurks beneath, when his emotions are proving stronger than the ring he wears.
But Christy pulls him into the bathroom stall, hand tight on his wrist. She's demanding, and determined, and so much like the girls he grew up with, that it's hard to say no to her. Then she pulls open her top. She's all smooth skin like the girls back home, who cut neatly at the waist and are all human, all the way up. Girls who could step on land if they wanted; girls capable of hiding away what they are so easily that even their own kind can't always distinguish them.
His heart thumps, loud; a prickling grows in the small of his back, but Christy's skin stays soft, smooth, and he feels no scales. All he can think, all he thinks-
"Wow," he says, and then. And then.
Mark. On the other side of the stall, a thin piece of wood separating them, Eduardo can hear him, his tight, ragged breathing, and Christy doesn't care. She opens his belt and presses her hand inside, just like that, grinning and working her way down his body. Eduardo presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, hard enough that it hurts, that he can mostly stop paying attention to Mark and Alice; he can almost focus completely on Christy's mouth.
Wow.
~
Later, leaning against the bathroom door while the girls freshen up, Eduardo keeps glancing at Mark, sneaking looks to watch the flush fade from Mark's cheeks, to catch the quick grin when Mark meets his eyes.
And he's still thinking wow. Most of it has very little to do with Mark, and he’s still thinking it when Mark leaves his side to talk to Erica.
It's a relief, this break from the norm. He never thought he could feel anything like his without Mark, beyond Mark, and Eduardo can't tell where his reality ends and this world he wants, more than anything, begins. It's like he can see it merging together, what he is and Mark and thefacebook, into one neat cohesive pattern, like touching a fairytale that was never supposed to be true.
He wants it all.
~
He walks both the girls home, after talks of expansion and after Mark has lost himself to the siren call of his code, burying whatever he's thinking or feeling about Erica beneath it.
Christy says, "You want to come up?" lingering in front of the door. Over her shoulder, Alice smirks and shakes her head, and she disappears inside. Eduardo watches her go. He's still seeing a future, so very possible, one he shouldn't want at all.
"Not tonight," he says, voice softening when Christy's face flickers. "But what are you doing next Friday?"
She smiles, freely and openly, like Eduardo didn't even have to earn it. It startles him to see how natural it is. He kisses her goodnight, touching the side of her jaw to feel the soft, soft skin there.
He's still thinking wow.
~
"We're expanding. A few more schools for now," he says, toying with his pen. He has his feet up on his desk, unprofessional and cloddish, but his father can't see him, and Eduardo is CFO. "I think. In time, I think we could have all the major schools in the nation. I-"
Where would Mark stop?
Eduardo swallows, feeling dizzy from the sheer possibility of what they're doing. He doesn't understand code, but he gets what thefacebook is, this network of interpersonal relationships. He knows what it could be, what it could mean, because his people have been building the real life practicality for years. He closes his eyes. "I think we could be global."
The thrill of that overrides the silence at the other end, but Eduardo is used to his father. He knows how his father thinks. There isn't any reason to pull Eduardo out of this. Not when it's doing so well.
His father says, "We need more people involved in this."
Eduardo freezes, dropping the pen. It clatters on the desk, but he's frozen, cornered, and he can only listen. Words stick in his throat.
"Take this Mark to New York and introduce him to some of our people. You know the ones."
His father keeps talking; Eduardo hasn't said a word, voice lost to the clutches of the sea witch, but that hasn't ever stopped his father before. Mark and his. And their people. Eduardo's people. It's.
Eduardo drops his feet to the floor, leaning forward, curling in on himself.
"Mark doesn't want advertisers," Eduardo says, voice hoarse when he finds it again. "I've talked to him about it and he-"
"Convince him otherwise."
"I-" he says. "Of course, father."
Mark. Mark in New York.
Eduardo can barely fathom that, taking Mark to meet slick men in ties and business suits, smooth words and expensive watches that hide the truth. If anyone finds out about Mark, about how Eduardo looks at him-
Eduardo puts his head in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. He can't breathe.
His chest stays tight for the next week, and the week after. It’s hard to breathe while he’s buying tickets for New York and confirming appointment times. His head hurts when he’s trying to convince Mark to come with him, using all the charm he can, all the skills he knows from his mother. He’s distracted, and that’s dangerous. He forgets; he gets cornered.
"What can I do for you?" Eduardo says, eyes glancing to the side, looking for a way out. He's already blaming it on Mark, secretly in his head. Mark who rarely does anything he doesn't want to. Eduardo has no idea how to convince him otherwise.
"Oh, I have something you can do for me," Divya says, eyes bright. "Your little human stole our idea. Tell him to knock it off."
Eduardo buries his hands deeper in his coat pockets; he bites his lower lip. It's chapped from the wind. He really misses Miami summers. The water might be cold back home, but the sun was always warm, rarely hidden away by clouds and snow.
"Did Mark use any of your code?" Eduardo says. “He says he didn’t.”
"It was our idea," Divya says, jabbing his finger against Eduardo’s chest. "I thought hey, we could use his help. If a Saverin sees something in him. It’s a risk but why not? Why not. You're letting him screw us over."
"It's not like that," Eduardo says. He steps out of the way of a group of students passing by, backpacks and loud chatter cutting between them, acting as a buffer. "I don't control Mark."
"You really expect me to believe that?" Divya shakes his head. "Don't cross me, Saverin. Get control of your pet." He turns and walks away, but not before Eduardo catches the flash of color at his neck, just barely edging up over his collar, the copper of his family.
It's stupid to cross another family. It's even stupider to do it over a human, especially for a Saverin, and Eduardo can't afford for anyone to realize why.
Walking briskly through the bitter wind, Eduardo wonders. Mark is inattentive and rude and does what he wants, fuck the consequences. He can't even fathom what Mark thinks half the time. He could let go, if he needed to, if he wanted to. The ache would be bone-deep and probably permanent, but he could.
He doesn’t want to.
~
Christy has her headphones in, and Eduardo is thankful for that. This conversation is difficult enough as it is.
Mark shifts in his seat, frowning like he has the entire ride. "Why are we going to New York?"
"I want you to meet some people," Eduardo says.
Mark's eyebrows furrow; he looks sullen, and suddenly Eduardo wonders if Mark even looked into them, these men they're going to meet. Does Mark even know that they're connected to companies that donate very heavily to organizations that deal with ocean preservation and overfishing regulations and offshore drilling?
Eduardo looks out his window. Mark wouldn't even make the connection because Mark never asks. Mark never looks up. The knowledge tastes bitter, a headache blooming in his temple. This trip is going to sour right in front of him.
After, he wishes he'd gone shopping with Christy instead.
He'd barter cheap with a sea witch to take away the memories of every single meeting. It doesn't matter what she'd ask in return; right now, Eduardo would probably give up just about anything because Mark, the uncooperative moron, is oblivious to the subtle, cold grip of danger curling around Eduardo's spine.
He sees the way they look at Mark. He knows what they're thinking, and when they turn their cool, intent eyes on Eduardo, it's too close to the truth.
"Could you at least pretend to want to be here?" Eduardo says after the third meeting with Mr. Attina. He spent half of it fighting the flare of color and scales, and the other half stopping from strangling Mark himself. "For me, Mark? Could you do that?"
"Advertising will kill thefacebook," Mark says, cool and unrepentant. He shoves his food around on his plate, tines of his fork scratching against it.
Eduardo closes his eyes. He tries to relax his hands, both the one holding his fork and the one in his lap. He touches the phone in his pocket. It's been off since after the second meeting, the one where Mark made all those noises. Turning it on will only tell him what he already knows: several missed calls, some from Christy, more from his father. Or maybe not. Maybe he'll only find the crushing silence of disappointment.
A fine showing for a Saverin. But what’s one more black mark to his family name?
"Whatever," Eduardo says, flat. He drinks some of his water, wishing it was something stronger. Or saltier.
"You're angry."
"Of course I'm angry, Mark. I went through a lot trouble to set up these meetings."
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I’m CFO of this company, Mark. This is my job.”
"Ads aren't cool," Mark says. "They'll-"
"Kill the site. I heard you."
Mark sinks back into his seat, sullen. "Why aren't you listening to me?"
Eduardo sighs. "I don't want to fight," he says. "We can't blow off the next meeting. Please, don't be an ass. Then we can, we can go meet this Sean Parker of yours."
Eduardo smiles at the waitress, Maria, when she brings the check and waits for her to leave.
He has responsibilities to his family and to Mark. Eduardo doesn't know how to balance them anymore. He probably never did. It was stupid to try.
~
Sean Parker is thirty minutes late. Eduardo is tired. He has an entire log of voicemails to slog through tonight, the memory of cold eyes and judgment and of the work he’s going to have to do to spin this favorably. If he even can. And Mark doesn’t seem to care about any of that. Mark cares about meeting Sean Parker. Sean Parker: underage girls, drugs, partying, kicked out of one company and bankrupted another, drifting from one failure to another.
This is not who Eduardo wants representing their company.
Eduardo straightens out of his slouch when the man walks into the restaurant like he owns it, like he can do whatever he wants.
It’s not because Sean Parker has a presence, or because his swagger is just as irritating as Eduardo imagined, but because Eduardo’s skin scales up his spine, wraps around his elbows, and he swallows, thankful that he always wears long sleeves now.
Sean Parker is, he is-
Eduardo looks at him and sees a shark, teeth and hunger and danger. There is a flash of something, the way he looks at Eduardo when they shake hands, and Eduardo thinks about blood in the water, a single drop from a cut on his arm, and his father pulling him down, down and away to hide in a reef.
Eduardo swallows, and tries to relax his hand, calm his instincts. He drinks too-sweet appletinis, burning on the way down, gets his digs in, cheap shots that they are, ignoring Christy’s elbow each time it presses into his side.
Shark. Shark. Shark. Sharks are dangerous; sharks are one of the few natural predators Eduardo’s family has. Sharks and men and sea witches. And you can’t make deals with sharks just like you shouldn’t make deals with sea witches; you can’t reason with sharks, you can’t trust sharks.
It probably doesn’t help that Sean Parker wraps Mark around his finger in the span of a few minutes, charming him in a way that Eduardo never could with talk of marlins and trout. Fish. But Eduardo bites back most of the words on his tongue, holds his skin in as best he can by sheer force of will, and when he glances over, Mark’s not looking at him.
Mark never looks at him.
~
He lets Christy curl next to him in the hotel bed, sheets scratchier than the ones he normally has when he stays in hotels. He lets her touch him more than usual, not shying away like he usually does but settling his hand on her stomach when all he wants is to be submersed in sea water and feel the salt rough against his skin.
He stares at the ceiling, eyes adjusted to the darkness - he always forgets how bright it is here, even in the middle of the night - and Christy's hair in his face. It itches, but he doesn't push it away.
She’s completely human. He knows that now, and it’s a small comfort to know that she won’t drag him before the Council or make his chest so tight it feels like he hasn’t breathed in ages, but he pulls away. She’d let Sean Parker wrap her up with his buzzwords and the deceptive lure of his stories.
Shark.
~
Back at Harvard, Eduardo makes a point of stepping away from both Christy and Mark, citing school and the Phoenix and that damn chicken. It’s hard with Christy because she’s very determined, and it’s hard with Mark because –
It’s hard with Mark.
~
"I can't believe you're asking me to babysit your chicken," Chris says.
Eduardo pushes past him into the room. He sets the cage down on the coffee table and sits heavily on the couch; the bird - he's resisted naming it despite all of Dustin's suggestions - clucks. And clucks and clucks.
"It just keeps, it keeps clucking all the time. I can't sleep. Aren't they supposed to sleep at night?"
"You should probably read your chicken manual," Mark says. He keeps typing, not even looking away from his computer. "Or didn't they provide you with one?"
Eduardo sits up, hands planted behind him on the couch cushion, and glares at Mark's back. He's been avoiding Mark since Spring break, almost as much as he's been avoiding his father's voicemail. He only left one, but then, his father was never one for overkill, and Eduardo still hasn't listened to it.
He wants the sea; he'd settle for the damn river, but he can't leave his chicken unattended. He can’t take it to the beach either. And Mark-
"I could get you in," Eduardo says, deliberate and harsh in his native language. "Any final club you want. I could call in a few favors, pull some strings. You'd get in. But it's never going to be enough for you, is it?"
"Man," Dustin says. He's at his own computer, a Facebook page open on his screen, but he's turned towards Eduardo. Unlike Mark. "I think he's swearing you out."
Mark looks unconcerned. Or something. Whatever is going on in his head is a mystery.
Chris touches his shoulder. "Go lay down," he says quietly. "I'll watch your damn bird."
~
Mark wakes Eduardo up. Not really by touching him, but the faint impression of it lingers on Eduardo's shoulder.
He blinks, bleary, unfocused on anything except Mark. Everything is quiet, like Eduardo wishes it would be all the time, except Mark's mouth is a flat, annoyed line.
Looking away, he yawns, rubbing his face, and then he glares in the direction of his chicken, still clucking.
Then Mark hands him a newspaper.
~
"You planted the story about the chicken," Eduardo says, more calmly than he feels. He's leaning against the side of Widener Library, wrapped in a thin jacket. The weather is starting to turn, warmer and greener.
It won't be as warm as California.
"Forced animal cannibalism is a horrible thing," Divya says. "PETA must be in an uproar."
"Fish eat other fish," Eduardo says. "Marlins and the trout, Divya. We both know that."
Divya just smiles. He looks towards the greater part of campus. "They don't."
"This is low."
"As low as stealing our idea?"
"You know what I think? I don't think it has anything to do with the code or the idea." Eduardo pushes away from the building. He's taller than Divya, but Divya doesn't look at all intimidated. "You're pissed that Mark and I got there first."
"Sure," Divya says. Then he smiles, all teeth. "Maybe we should bring back the old ways, just this once. How good of a swimmer is Mark?"
Eduardo pitches his voice low, controlled despite the burning in his chest. He steps into Divya's space, closer than he's really comfortable with. "You're forgetting who I am."
Divya huffs, not quite amused. "Everyone knows about the Saverins," he says. “Even the humans.”
"They think she's a fairytale," Eduardo says. "It hardly matters." But he looks away.
Everyone does know about his family, about her, but the humans always get the ending wrong.
~
Lots of death. Lots of sea foam and even more blood. Humans might not be able to breathe underwater, but they’re sharks, every last one of them.
~
Mark says, "I'm going to California," because Sean Parker suggested it. He doesn't seem very concerned when Eduardo tells him about his own summer plans. He's going to New York for an internship with a company run by one of his own. It's only for the summer, only three months, but it's going to seem like forever.
He puts money in an account and gives Mark the paperwork at the interns’ interview. Eduardo gravitates towards the wall, pulling away from the cheering in the middle of the room. The new intern - Eduardo didn't catch his name - is still being congratulated by the others, given another shot of alcohol.
"This is kind of insane," Chris says, stepping out of the crowd.
"Yeah," Eduardo says. He leans back, tucking his hands in his pockets. "It really is."
They're both quiet for a while. Not that it makes much difference. It's so loud, people packed in this tiny room, the music all the way up, and everyone yelling so they can be heard.
Dustin's dancing. Eduardo tucks his chin down, hiding his smile.
Chris nudges him. "You're not coming with," he says.
"I can't. I have that internship," Eduardo says. His eyes drift to Mark. Mark who said, "You should think about coming out," like Eduardo can just hop on a plane whenever he wants, like he can just say no to his father and follow Mark wherever he goes.
Maybe a few months ago, he would have done it without thought or reservation, so enamored with Mark that the consequences didn't matter until it was too late.
And now, Mark is enamored with a shark.
"You think I should come out," Eduardo says. Mark and the new intern are bent over a computer, probably talking about code. Who knows? It's not really Eduardo's world. “Screw the internship and come out.”
"It's a great opportunity," Chris says. His voice stays even, and he looks at Eduardo without guile.
"It means a lot to my father," Eduardo says. He hasn't told anyone, not even Christy, that his father probably arranged the entire thing. Eduardo needs to start making his mark in this world. Facebook isn't enough for his father; Mark isn't enough for his father.
Eduardo closes his eyes. He can't block out the sound.
~
New York is exactly what Eduardo expects it to be.
The internship is a great opportunity; without his father pulling strings and calling in favors, he never would have gotten it. He knows he'll learn a lot but his mind is in an entirely different place. For once, it's not with the sea.
The summer drags on; the air is hot and humid, but the water is cold. Even dressed in long sleeves and slacks, Eduardo can't feel his toes. Sometimes, he thinks it'd be so much easier to just return home. Take off his ring and forget everything as he disappears beneath the waves.
He toys with his phone, still in his pocket, and thinks about the last time he talked to Mark.
Mark is on the other side of the country; Eduardo can't sit on his bed and pretend to spill secrets in a language Mark will never understand, and he feels the distance a little more each day. But his skin stays soft and human, and Christy is familiar, despite her constant phone calls and text messages and her increasingly jealous tendencies.
On the phone, Eduardo says softly, in English, "Are you even listening to me?" but Mark has coding to do and he's gone before Eduardo gets an answer.
Sometimes, he calls Dustin next, or Chris, but usually Eduardo drops his phone by his bedside table and slips out the door to disappear in the masses on the streets. It's almost as addicting as the sea, riding the subways all day, stepping off one train just to climb onto another. He should be looking for advertisers; he should be focusing on his internship. Today, he keeps his phone with him, so he's there to answer it when it rings.
"Your schedule is free tonight," his father says, gruff like usual, no hello or how are you. "I'm in town."
"I," Eduardo says. “I’ll make time.”
And he does, because this is his father, and there's no reason to say no.
The restaurant is extravagant. Eduardo's eaten in places like this before, and he's always appreciated them, but they're not here for the food. His father is early, and the table he's at is set for two more.
His father is not an imposing man, physically. He's just as thin - scrawny, Eduardo thinks wryly - as his son, but when he looks at Eduardo and says, "I hear you're dating a human," Eduardo can't meet his eyes.
"She has connections," he says, mouth twisting unbidden. Like Sean Parker. "Important connections."
"A human."
"It's not like that," Eduardo says. Not with Christy.
A waitress stops by and takes Eduardo's drink order. She has dark hair and blue eyes, a pretty smile; It’s easier to look at her than his father. He watches her leave.
"Eduardo," his father says. "I don't know what to do with you."
"I'm doing fine," he says. "Facebook is continuing to grow. We have over three hundred thousand members. Three hundred thousand. We're on two continents."
"You're confident.” His father sets his glass down on the table. "I like that. But you are my son and a Saverin. You will be successful."
Eduardo realizes he's grinding his teeth. He opens his mouth. "Facebook is going to change the world," he says. "I'm part of that."
"Ah," his father says, rising. Eduardo looks around. The male he picks out almost immediately, but it takes him a moment to realize that the woman on his arm is not human.
Eduardo stares as his father greets them warmly.
"Eduardo," he says. "These are the Andrinas."
Eduardo shakes Mr. Andrina's hand, and his father says, "My son has come into his own," and Mr. Andrina's smile reaches his eyes and he clasps his other hand on top of Eduardo's.
When he says, "That's wonderful," Eduardo can hear the warmth in it.
He can almost feel the scales beneath his skin.
"Is it true," Mrs. Andrina says when they’ve all been seated. "That you founded Facebook?"
"I, it's," Eduardo says, feeling flushed. "Yeah. Co-founded."
She smiles indulgently at him, amused, and takes her seat. She orders a glass of wine when the waitress returns - she can't take her eyes off Mrs. Andrina either, fumbling with Eduardo’s drink, a little clumsy when she leaves.
"It's going to change the way people use the internet," Eduardo says, trying to regain his footing.
"And we're right there to control it," Mrs. Andrina says. "Excellent."
The conversation turns towards other business matters, breaking only when they order their food and once again when it’s brought out. Eduardo stays quiet for most of it, pushing his food around on his plate. His father is courting them, he realizes, rebuilding connections his ancestor severed years ago.
"Your son is right about one thing," Mr. Andrina says. Eduardo feels a little like he's not even in the room anymore. "The internet is changing their society. We need to be with it. How are you getting our people involved?"
“Advertisement,” his father says.
"Mark doesn't want advertising," Eduardo says.
His father is too controlled to let his silverware clatter against the plate. He barely shows a reaction at all. His gaze sharpens, and his mouth turns down at the corners, and that’s it. “Then it’s your job to convince him otherwise,” he says, cutting his steak methodically. “It’s not about what he wants.”
"Father," Eduardo says carefully. "Mark is human."
"They are rather problematic, aren't they?" Mrs. Andrina says. “But I suppose there's always the old ways.”
Eduardo nearly drops his fork. He stares at his plate, at the flounder he's mostly just pushed around.
"Luckily," Eduardo's father says blandly; Eduardo looks up, heart in his throat. His father is watching him carefully. "It shouldn't come to that."
Eduardo says very little the rest of the night.
~
"We don't keep to the old ways," Eduardo says, trying to wave down a cab. He tried whistling, but his mouth is too dry.
"Many families still do." His father's gaze is considering. He can’t meet his father’s eyes, but he’s been looking at Eduardo like that for most of the night.
"But we don't. Mother doesn't."
"Your mother sent us here to protect our home. Have you forgotten that?"
"No," Eduardo says. "Of course not. I just-" He looks away. Traffic is a mess, honking cars and pedestrians darting across the street. It's not just Mark that could be an issue. It's Dustin and Chris, both high ranking members of Facebook. They would need to be protected too. "Are humans really so different?"
Eduardo's father stops him. His eyes are sharp. "What is this boy to you?"
"My friend," Eduardo says. "Mark is- my friend."
"He's not charmed."
"He's not- he’s not receptive to it."
"You're his friend."
Eduardo feels his face heat, but he doesn't look away. "I am." He holds his father’s gaze, mouth dry, forcing his fingers to stay still. His heart knocks against his ribs twice. "I knew he was going to do great things." he says. "Father, Mark can't be cut out. Facebook- Mark is Facebook. He's the driving force behind it. If we do that, then this entire thing will collapse."
"He will betray you," his father says.
Eduardo feels like he’s trying to outswim a speedboat, nerves wrecked through desperation. "You don't know that."
"He is human,” his father says dismissively. “Remember that. It's their nature."
His father’s whistle cuts through the sounds of the city; three cabs and a Mercedes nearly crash trying to get to him, and the people around them stop walking and stare. He opens the door of one cab, waving away the others. Before he gets in, he turns back to Eduardo.
“Hey,” the cabbie says, “I don’t got all-“
“Quiet,” his father says without looking back. The cabbie’s face goes slack, and he sinks back into his seat, eyes focused on Eduardo’s father. "Take a few days. Convince him that he needs you and he needs advertising. When you get back we'll set up some more of our people in the company."
"Of course," Eduardo says, looking away.
~
Eduardo cannot breathe.
Part Three
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 08:42 am (UTC)i. want. to. cry.
Everyone does know about his family, about her, but the humans always get the ending wrong.
i. want. to. die. i love love love how you've connected the fairy tale.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 12:15 am (UTC)And I'm such a sucker for myths being grounded in reality/based on trufax, and I love the idea that the truth is lost in retellings. That if someone who was involved in the original story told the story to someone else, and then person B told it to a writer, who twisted it to tell a good tale, and that tale was taken by Disney and it was altered irrevocably so nobody knows the truth anymore. It just. I love that.