Pupils roving left and right, Mark can feel a curious stinging in his own eyes. Almost like he's about to cry. Or, at least, how he imagines being close to crying might feel. Truth is, he hasn't done it in years, not since he's been able to ride a two-wheeler, because boys shouldn't cry and boys that do, they get pushed to the bottom of the social ladder. But he does know that his eyes are wet. So he blinks. A couple of times, until his range of sight is clear again and he can take that deep, shuddering breath, the one that makes him feel like he's sitting right back in that chair in the facebook offices. He hasn't— he's been so careful about holding himself together after that incident, layered himself with cynicism for the hearings because that is how everyone knows him and the type of attitude that comes naturally anymore. It's the most easy to rationalize, falling back on the reasoning that he didn't technically do anything wrong, didn't technically lie, never any of that, and the fact that lawyers like to win cases on technicalities and by semantics never helps (even Marylin's admitted that it's all about perception). But even deeper is the fact that it makes it easier for Eduardo to hate him, and that's... all Mark feels comfortable with now. It'd be safe. Status quo. If you can't understand it, the least the world can do is help you predict it.
Maybe that's why Mark's still putting up such a fight.
"I see that you are here," Mark begins, his usual pace slowed by consideration. "Of course you are, you're always here, you're Wardo and that's what you do, you travel for fourteen hours on the subway and you stand for an hour in the rain and you put up with fifty texts a day from Christy the crazy girlfriend who sets silk scarves on fire, all because you're Wardo. But why? Why did you put up with her, why do you put up with me, I don't— I don't know." His eyes lose contact with Eduardo's then, turning left and right because he can't look while he says this, can't look up, feels emotions churning in his stomach, even if none make it to his expression. Mark suddenly stops, eyes glazed over and focusing on nothing in particular; even now, with his best friend standing there, he feels alone. Code is easier than this. You can see a crash coming. You can back up, start again, clean slate.
"I think you believed in my being able to make facebook into something. But everyone knew that. That's why the Winklevii sought me out and maybe that's why Erica dated me at all, because apparently I'm a jerk, so surely it wasn't for my sparkling personality. I'm not like you, Wardo, I can't make girls like me and I'm not interesting enough to get punched by the Phoenix, so I needed you. In Palo Alto. I couldn't go back to— you said you were my only friend," Mark stammers suddenly, looking up at the end, his expression not accusing, not even angry, but confused in the simplest sense. In spite of the way that he knows Eduardo hasn't even lived through that moment, and maybe won't be able to tell Mark what inspired that remark, right then. Was it just to play up the case? During the deposition, it was certainly hard to think of such a statement as anything but. Petty, tugging at heartstrings, reeling in the cash. But Wardo's never been like that before, so—
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Date: 2011-05-20 05:05 am (UTC)Maybe that's why Mark's still putting up such a fight.
"I see that you are here," Mark begins, his usual pace slowed by consideration. "Of course you are, you're always here, you're Wardo and that's what you do, you travel for fourteen hours on the subway and you stand for an hour in the rain and you put up with fifty texts a day from Christy the crazy girlfriend who sets silk scarves on fire, all because you're Wardo. But why? Why did you put up with her, why do you put up with me, I don't— I don't know." His eyes lose contact with Eduardo's then, turning left and right because he can't look while he says this, can't look up, feels emotions churning in his stomach, even if none make it to his expression. Mark suddenly stops, eyes glazed over and focusing on nothing in particular; even now, with his best friend standing there, he feels alone. Code is easier than this. You can see a crash coming. You can back up, start again, clean slate.
"I think you believed in my being able to make facebook into something. But everyone knew that. That's why the Winklevii sought me out and maybe that's why Erica dated me at all, because apparently I'm a jerk, so surely it wasn't for my sparkling personality. I'm not like you, Wardo, I can't make girls like me and I'm not interesting enough to get punched by the Phoenix, so I needed you. In Palo Alto. I couldn't go back to— you said you were my only friend," Mark stammers suddenly, looking up at the end, his expression not accusing, not even angry, but confused in the simplest sense. In spite of the way that he knows Eduardo hasn't even lived through that moment, and maybe won't be able to tell Mark what inspired that remark, right then. Was it just to play up the case? During the deposition, it was certainly hard to think of such a statement as anything but. Petty, tugging at heartstrings, reeling in the cash. But Wardo's never been like that before, so—
"Why say that?"