"You're better than this place," Mark replies offhandedly, shoulders tensing, before he lets them sag, both dropping down far enough that it almost looks comical. His gaze holds, maintaining eye contact with Eduardo, and suddenly Mark feels that same fatigue, that same energy, that same tension worming through every last muscle of his body. He wants nothing more than to sleep and ease all of that away. Put aside his problems until tomorrow. Alternatively, just not fuck it up while it's still only the first day. But then it strikes Mark that this conversation, this very conversation sounds a whole lot like the one that he had with Erica all those years ago, before facebook, before he'd even met the Winklevii.

Before FaceMash.

"I just— I just mean," he sputters, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to suddenly force his thoughts into some sort of order, something that someone else who isn't Mark, who isn't this freaking Stairmaster, might be able to follow. "I just mean that there can be, you know, good things about a college, like the way that BU is closer to the Upper Crust than Harvard will ever be, like the way that BU actually has newer facilities that have better air conditioning and heating installed than many of our old buildings. I mean, nostalgia's great, history's wonderful, but when it actually comes to an environment that's suited to learning, it's not like I gain anything from sitting on chairs that are older than my, my family's history on this freaking continent. BU's got great things, but that doesn't mean that I think you'd fit there, that doesn't mean we label it as the best thing ever, so I just mean that sure, there can be good things about this island but that the domesticity is not what you signed up for and I think you should— should have it all. I don't, don't want to fight about this, Wardo."