It's sensible, is what it is. Hell, for that matter, it isn't like Eduardo didn't think the same himself, wondered if he'd gone and lost his damn mind around the time he realized that it wasn't a sick joke being made at his expense. Where Mark is concerned, Eduardo does, he thinks, still know him well enough to be aware that he's logical, rational, not someone who'd buy into any fantastical theories too quickly, and nothing about this place really makes sense. However reasonable the question might be, though, he can't help but feel a little of the hope he's built up start to bleed out of him, and doesn't bother trying to hide it, either. If nothing else, it's dismissible as being the effect of a more serious turn of conversation, the implication not one that merits a smile regardless of their history, even if the latter part is what he's really thinking of.
After all, if none of this were really happening, then what the fuck would even be the point?
"I've been here for four months," he points out, words measured, careful, his hand coming to rest against Mark's back to keep guiding him down the path. "That would be a pretty elaborate hallucination on my part." What's more, there's no way he would be able to conjure up an image of Mark like this; he's much like Eduardo remembered him, but all the complexities, the perfection, the imperfection, that's nothing he could have dreamed up on his own. Added to that the gap of time between them, the things that have changed, the ways in which Mark has managed to take him by surprise tonight, and he really sees no way around it. (If he did go crazy, though, then given the timing of his hypothetical psychotic break, that would be all Mark's fault. He keeps that comment to himself.) "And I guess you could argue that anything I tell you about that time is just... your projection of me trying to justify it, but..."
Trailing off, he shakes his own head in turn, expression just bordering on hurt under its insistence. "This is real, Mark. Crazy or not. I'm real."
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Date: 2011-06-07 04:08 am (UTC)After all, if none of this were really happening, then what the fuck would even be the point?
"I've been here for four months," he points out, words measured, careful, his hand coming to rest against Mark's back to keep guiding him down the path. "That would be a pretty elaborate hallucination on my part." What's more, there's no way he would be able to conjure up an image of Mark like this; he's much like Eduardo remembered him, but all the complexities, the perfection, the imperfection, that's nothing he could have dreamed up on his own. Added to that the gap of time between them, the things that have changed, the ways in which Mark has managed to take him by surprise tonight, and he really sees no way around it. (If he did go crazy, though, then given the timing of his hypothetical psychotic break, that would be all Mark's fault. He keeps that comment to himself.) "And I guess you could argue that anything I tell you about that time is just... your projection of me trying to justify it, but..."
Trailing off, he shakes his own head in turn, expression just bordering on hurt under its insistence. "This is real, Mark. Crazy or not. I'm real."