It's a long few seconds that Eduardo spends planning a response. He listens well enough — he's always been the listener, used to Mark's ramblings, though they're admittedly usually easier than this one — but it doesn't stop his own mind from racing, planning out what to say. At least there's some recognition, which comes as a surprising relief, but hearing Mark be so straightforward, so self-deprecating, is just as painful as the thought of Mark's not understanding him at all. (Of course it comes back to the Phoenix. He's always known that it was about that, at least on some level, and he hates that Mark seems to blame him for it, like Eduardo wouldn't have handed his invitation over to Mark if he could, just to smooth things over and give him that chance. Instead, he'd had to settle for downplaying his own happiness for his best friend's sake, which apparently wasn't enough. Nothing, with Mark, ever seems to be quite enough.) There's even a moment where he opens his mouth to protest, but he manages to cut himself off, letting Mark say his piece and working out where best to start what he supposes has to be a rebuttal of sorts.
All of that goes out the window, though, with the next to last thing Mark says, Eduardo's mind going suddenly, frustratingly blank. He doesn't remember saying that, and is sure he would remember saying that; the only conclusion he can reach, then, pieces distantly forming together from the conversation they've had, is that it happens in his own future. It makes sense enough, anyway. Though he has no context and can't say for sure, Eduardo feels reasonably certain that he knows exactly what would make him say that, and would reiterate as much now, painful though it must have been for Mark to hear. (Mark wouldn't be mentioning it, otherwise, not like this.) It takes him several moments longer to work up the ability to speak anyway, shifting Mark's laptop in his arms, wishing he had the use of his hands as some sort of outlet. He isn't used to standing so still.
"Because every single thing I did, I did for you, you asshole," he grits out, the words careful and precise, a sharp edge but no malice behind them. Mostly, he still doesn't get how Mark doesn't understand it, but he's so worked up now that there's no chance of him skirting around the issue, or easing into it gently. "And no one else could say that. The Winklevosses and Sean and maybe even Erica, the difference between me and them was that it wasn't what you could do, or even what you did that I cared about. I believed in Facebook as a part of you, not you as a part of Facebook, and before you tell me it's the same thing, think about it again, because there's — there is a difference." Breaths coming short and shallow, he looks away from Mark, then, laptop under one arm and his other hand pressed to his forehead, as if that will help him stay calm, centered, a task that's really fruitless at this point. This isn't how he imagined them doing this, just standing in the middle of a path, but apparently they're going to have it all out in the open now, and he's useless to try to stop it. If Mark isn't going to hold back, there's no sense in him doing so, either. His eyes are red, vision not quite clear, but he has every intention of ignoring that while he still can. "No one else had your back," he says, quieter now, "no one else put you first. I would have done anything —"
He cuts himself off, not because he knows the statement to be wrong — Mark said as much himself, saying he needed Eduardo in Palo Alto — but because his voice breaks. "It wasn't just putting up with you. It never was. You were my best friend, Mark. Don't devalue that."
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All of that goes out the window, though, with the next to last thing Mark says, Eduardo's mind going suddenly, frustratingly blank. He doesn't remember saying that, and is sure he would remember saying that; the only conclusion he can reach, then, pieces distantly forming together from the conversation they've had, is that it happens in his own future. It makes sense enough, anyway. Though he has no context and can't say for sure, Eduardo feels reasonably certain that he knows exactly what would make him say that, and would reiterate as much now, painful though it must have been for Mark to hear. (Mark wouldn't be mentioning it, otherwise, not like this.) It takes him several moments longer to work up the ability to speak anyway, shifting Mark's laptop in his arms, wishing he had the use of his hands as some sort of outlet. He isn't used to standing so still.
"Because every single thing I did, I did for you, you asshole," he grits out, the words careful and precise, a sharp edge but no malice behind them. Mostly, he still doesn't get how Mark doesn't understand it, but he's so worked up now that there's no chance of him skirting around the issue, or easing into it gently. "And no one else could say that. The Winklevosses and Sean and maybe even Erica, the difference between me and them was that it wasn't what you could do, or even what you did that I cared about. I believed in Facebook as a part of you, not you as a part of Facebook, and before you tell me it's the same thing, think about it again, because there's — there is a difference." Breaths coming short and shallow, he looks away from Mark, then, laptop under one arm and his other hand pressed to his forehead, as if that will help him stay calm, centered, a task that's really fruitless at this point. This isn't how he imagined them doing this, just standing in the middle of a path, but apparently they're going to have it all out in the open now, and he's useless to try to stop it. If Mark isn't going to hold back, there's no sense in him doing so, either. His eyes are red, vision not quite clear, but he has every intention of ignoring that while he still can. "No one else had your back," he says, quieter now, "no one else put you first. I would have done anything —"
He cuts himself off, not because he knows the statement to be wrong — Mark said as much himself, saying he needed Eduardo in Palo Alto — but because his voice breaks. "It wasn't just putting up with you. It never was. You were my best friend, Mark. Don't devalue that."