It's so absolutely fucking relieving that it hits harder than Eduardo is prepared for, the force of it almost painful, leaving him winded as he drops back into his chair again. What Mark says, words he dimly registers, isn't half as promising, but at least this is something. As long as Mark isn't walking out, they can make this work; they have to, because Eduardo is pretty sure that he'd do absolutely anything to ensure it, a thought that's both stupid and dangerous but that he can't ignore the truth in. It isn't as if he's never thought it before, after all. There's always been a limit to it — he would do anything for Mark but he won't do that, like that awful song from the nineties says, and, Jesus Christ, if ever there were a sign that he's had too much to drink, too, it's that — but the way he considers it doesn't reflect as much, if only for his willingness to make whatever work. It shouldn't be on him to repair their friendship when he wasn't the one who broke it, but if it means keeping Mark around, continuing to be here for him, then it will be worth it. He can't let himself believe otherwise.
The thing is, the thing he has to keep reminding himself, he doesn't know Mark. Not in the you douchebag, you lied to me for months and called yourself my friend way, but actually legitimately does not know him. A lot has been the same in the way they've spoken since he first found Mark on that couch in the rec room, but that doesn't negate the fact that, for him, it's been four fucking years, ones that Eduardo hasn't gotten to experience, and probably never will, not in the same way. Four years is enough for someone to change (he thinks, he hopes; it's a feeling he'd all but forgotten, the desperate need to mean something to Mark, to be important, to even come close to comparing to his precious website). A lot is the same, he's the same, but that doesn't mean everything has to be. The line is just such a fucking difficult one to walk, wanting to cater to Mark's needs and protect himself all at once, because he isn't angry so much as he is hurt and that's just how it manifests itself. When it comes down to it, though, he knows who to put first. He can take care of himself later, sort through all of this when he has a moment alone. Mark may not deserve the benefit of the doubt after what he did, but those four missing years make Eduardo inclined to give it. If he's entirely truthful, he probably would have anyway. How Mark always manages to do this to him, he doesn't know, and he wishes he could actually fucking resent it more than he does, but he can't.
"That isn't what I meant," he says, careful, apologetic. Of all things, this is one that he shouldn't, he shouldn't have to explain himself for, but if that's what it takes to keep everything alright, then he'll do it. Besides, Olive's story isn't his to tell, and removing that factor from the equation, then Mark's quote-unquote offense wouldn't even be worth mentioning. Eduardo is used to it, he can take it; it's Olive who shouldn't have to. Taking a deep breath, he shuts his eyes, just for a second. "Look, I, I want you here, okay? I don't know what that says about me, but I do. And I think we've both had too much to drink, and — this was never going to be easy, you know?" He's rambling by now, barely aware of what he's trying to say except to know that he needs to say it, to make Mark see this time, since he clearly didn't before, just what lengths he'll go to. This isn't a big deal, isn't, all things considered, much of a sacrifice at all. Wide-eyed again and earnest, he draws in a breath. "I just took it the wrong way, and I shouldn't have, and that's — I'm sorry. It wasn't fair. Of me, to say that."
no subject
The thing is, the thing he has to keep reminding himself, he doesn't know Mark. Not in the you douchebag, you lied to me for months and called yourself my friend way, but actually legitimately does not know him. A lot has been the same in the way they've spoken since he first found Mark on that couch in the rec room, but that doesn't negate the fact that, for him, it's been four fucking years, ones that Eduardo hasn't gotten to experience, and probably never will, not in the same way. Four years is enough for someone to change (he thinks, he hopes; it's a feeling he'd all but forgotten, the desperate need to mean something to Mark, to be important, to even come close to comparing to his precious website). A lot is the same, he's the same, but that doesn't mean everything has to be. The line is just such a fucking difficult one to walk, wanting to cater to Mark's needs and protect himself all at once, because he isn't angry so much as he is hurt and that's just how it manifests itself. When it comes down to it, though, he knows who to put first. He can take care of himself later, sort through all of this when he has a moment alone. Mark may not deserve the benefit of the doubt after what he did, but those four missing years make Eduardo inclined to give it. If he's entirely truthful, he probably would have anyway. How Mark always manages to do this to him, he doesn't know, and he wishes he could actually fucking resent it more than he does, but he can't.
"That isn't what I meant," he says, careful, apologetic. Of all things, this is one that he shouldn't, he shouldn't have to explain himself for, but if that's what it takes to keep everything alright, then he'll do it. Besides, Olive's story isn't his to tell, and removing that factor from the equation, then Mark's quote-unquote offense wouldn't even be worth mentioning. Eduardo is used to it, he can take it; it's Olive who shouldn't have to. Taking a deep breath, he shuts his eyes, just for a second. "Look, I, I want you here, okay? I don't know what that says about me, but I do. And I think we've both had too much to drink, and — this was never going to be easy, you know?" He's rambling by now, barely aware of what he's trying to say except to know that he needs to say it, to make Mark see this time, since he clearly didn't before, just what lengths he'll go to. This isn't a big deal, isn't, all things considered, much of a sacrifice at all. Wide-eyed again and earnest, he draws in a breath. "I just took it the wrong way, and I shouldn't have, and that's — I'm sorry. It wasn't fair. Of me, to say that."