Chapter Text
I'm picking up vibrations
I can feel it in my blood
I think I died of dehydration
when I was waiting on the flood
Mark Mallman: “True Love”
Being Peter Parker is a lot easier than being Eduardo Saverin. Who would’ve thought?
Funny enough, even being Spiderman is easier than being Eduardo Saverin. Sure, there are people out there trying to kill him or beat him up every night and the newspapers call him a menace, but it’s still better than looking back on the burning pile of rubble that’s left of his life.
Something about this whole thing is simply hilarious - Eduardo is pretty sure about that. Sadly he hasn’t found out what it is yet.
In hindsight it’s kind of obvious that he uses the mask and the adrenaline and the ever present danger as means to ‘escape from his personal demons’. (The last part is a direct quote from Steve, who might or might not be right. The jury is still out on that one.)
And yes, in hindsight it would have probably been the more healthy response to simply search for a therapist and talk about all the stuff Mark had put him through. But well, hindsight was always 20/20. And always kind of late.
So he doesn’t talk.
But he’s fine, really. He works. He saves lives. He fights villains who have a dreadful sense of fashion. He makes friends. Well, he makes acquaintances, because Eduardo isn’t ready to have friends yet (or ever again).
But they’re acquaintances who are superheroes and scientists and assassins and who are all kinds of cool and super special awesome, so that counts for something, right?
So everything is good in a way, in a weird and not exactly healthy way maybe, but good nevertheless.
And then Mark comes to New York and everything he built for himself goes to hell in the span of less than twenty minutes.
Only Mark…only Mark has ever been able to do something like that.
~
The night is cold and the sky is endless.
Eduardo’s wide awake, high on sky and air and adrenaline. He runs and runs, he jumps and when he falls it feels like flying. Sometimes the whole thing is so amazing that Eduardo forgets that he has an actual job to do.
In those moments he thinks he would be content just jumping from rooftop to rooftop like that for the rest of his life. Never slowing down and never stopping.
But obviously somebody has to disturb this perfect night. Somebody always does.
People don’t seem to be able to behave like decent human beings for even one night. It’s just not possible.
He stumbles upon a scene that looks familiar enough for him to come to a sudden halt mid-air. He creeps a little bit closer down the house wall.
From above he sees two guys, one of them tall and bulky and the other skinny and pretty small. The bigger one has the other backed up against a wall and there’s something glinting in the darkness, something that looks suspiciously like a knife.
A robbery probably.
Who in his right mind thinks that it would be a good idea to walk through this particular kind of neighborhood at this time of night is anybody’s guess. Probably a tourist. Tourists could be all kinds of stupid.
“… your laptop!”
So this is what it is about. Eduardo sighs under his mask and refrains from rolling his eyes. A laptop. Not exactly worth dying for.
“No.”
Apparently this guy doesn’t agree with him on that.
“Give it to me or I’ll slit your throat, you little…”
The other one doesn’t reply, but if possible the possessive grip around his laptop seems to tighten. Eduardo can only hope whatever is on that thing is worth getting his ass kicked for.
Slowly approaching he notices that laptop-guy has a rather small frame buried beneath his oversized hoodie. Even hidden by the shadows he looks skinny and nerdy and as if he couldn’t take on a baby kitten, least of all bulky guys like the thief.
Headfirst Eduardo slides down until he’s right behind the bully and taps him on the shoulder.
“Hey.”
“What the hell…?” Big guy whirls around, knife prepared to stab whoever dares to interrupt him.
Eduardo evades easily.
“You know, I’d love to tell you something like ‘How about you pick on somebody your own size?’ but I guess it’s really hard to find somebody of your meaty manly qualities.”
After that it’s easy enough. Too easy.
The guy is all mass and muscle and no brain. No grace.
He stabs and kicks wildly around himself without even coming near important parts of Eduardo. There’s a lot of swearing tough and bitter remarks directed towards Eduardo’s masculinity.
Eduardo feels pretty secure in his masculinity, okay?
Well, he runs around in red tights, so he should.
He delivers a few well-deserved blows and hopes that’s going to encourage douche bag from trying to rob somebody else for tonight. Usually it doesn’t work, but a spider has got to try, right?
He watches him run away before he turns around.
Important super hero rule no. 8: It’s essential to check the victims, too.
They might be hurt or in shock. It also never hurts to convince people that he’s not a ‘menace’.
“Hey. Are you all-…” He never gets around to finishing the sentence.
All breath leaves his lungs.
Mark.
It’s Mark.
The curls. The hoodie. The laptop. The stupid, stubborn insolence…
Of course, he thinks, almost numb with shock, of course it is Mark.
Who else could it be?
Who else would rather die over a stupid laptop instead of just buying a new one with the billions and billions of dollars he probably makes?
White hot fury rushes through Eduardo’s veins until he feels almost dizzy with adrenalin.
“Are you fucking insane?” he hisses. His hand shoots forward and before he can stop himself he’s already grabbing Mark’s stupid hoodie, shaking his lanky frame. “Why didn’t you give him the damn laptop? He could’ve killed you! What were you thinking?”
Mark blinks and looks up at him, somewhat confusedly. Then his mouth tightens and he frowns. “Who the hell are you?”
It feels like a punch to the stomach.
Bittersweet hysteria rushes through his veins.
For a second Eduardo has managed to forget the mask. For a second he hasn’t been Spiderman, he hasn’t even been Peter Parker. He has only been Wardo, Wardo yelling Mark because he has done something stupid and potentially bad for his health - something so achingly familiar because he has done it a thousand times before.
But that…that was a lifetime ago and now Mark doesn’t know who he is.
Slowly Eduardo lets go of his hoodie.
The realization that Mark doesn’t recognize him tastes like relief and disappointment, sharp and bittersweet, all rolled into one. Of course he doesn’t. How could he. Eduardo Saverin doesn’t exist anymore.
Mark himself has killed every part of him that mattered.
“I’m the guy who just saved your ass”, he says and he feels like choking on his own voice.
Mark seems to consider that.
“I guess”, he reluctantly allows, burying one of his hands in his pocket. It’s an achingly familiar gesture, just like his slouch and the way his fingers play with the hem of his hoodie. Everything about him is so familiar, it’s almost surreal. He should be a stranger now…unrecognizable like Eduardo beneath his mask.
Mark.
God. Mark.
What is he even doing here?
“You’re not a police officer”, Mark states.
“Oh really?” Eduardo replies bitingly. “You think?”
“You wear a mask.” Mark’s face is carefully blank.
Eduardo exhales. It’s almost a laugh. He barely refrains from rolling his eyes, because seriously? This is all Mark can come up with? ‘You wear a mask?’
“Why?” Mark tilts his head, obviously not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve got pimples or something?”
“You’re impossible”, Eduardo whispers.
“Mark.”
“What?”
“That’s my name. Mark.”
No ‘Zuckerberg’, no ‘I’m CEO, bitch’. Who would’ve thought? In a way Eduardo is almost glad.
Almost.
“Yeah, whatever.”
He needs to go. And fast. It feels as if there’s no air left in New York, not with Mark being so close and so goddamn...Mark.
“Is this a thing in New York?” Mark continues. “Because I heard it’s a thing.”
“What?”
It has been a while since he has talked to Mark. He isn’t used to him anymore, the way Mark talks in ellipses, the way his brain jumps between topics and connects information differently than anybody else.
There has been a time where he had always understood what Mark meant.
But not anymore.
“You. That.” Mark makes a vague motion with his hand that seems to refer to Eduardo or possibly the whole situation. “Running around in tights. Saving people. Seems like a thing to me.”
“It’s more about the ‘saving people’-part than the ‘wearing tights’-part, but yes. I guess. It’s a thing.”
His mouth is forming the words before his brain is able to catch up. This is the most surreal conversations he ever had.
“I…yeah. Okay. That’s cool.” Mark shrugs uncomfortably. It’s the closest he’s ever going to come to actually say ‘thank you’, Eduardo realizes and he almost smiles. Except it hurt too much to even try.
“You should go”, he says and what he means is ‘I should go’.
“Why?”
Mark doesn’t move. He’s still staring at Eduardo, in a way he never has before. Or maybe he has, but Eduardo has chosen to forget it, he isn’t sure. Sometimes everything that has happened before New York feels blurry and out of focus, mute and sepia-colored like somebody else’s memories.
He needs to go.
He needs to stop talking.
He needs to breathe.
Eduardo’s pretty sure the mask muffles his voice, but there’s no sense in risking it. Sometimes Mark can be way more observant than anyone ever gives him credit for.
And wouldn’t that be a whole new brand of disaster, him recognizing Eduardo?
Parts of him want to run as fast and as far away as possible, never slowing down and never stopping. Not until it stops hurting.
But Mark’s still on his own in a potential dangerous part of the city in the middle of the night, carrying a far too expensive laptop and weighing as much as a wet kitten. There’s no chance in hell that he won’t get into trouble as soon as Eduardo will turn his back on him. He might be as smart as they come, but Mark’s sense of self-preservation has always been small and woefully underdeveloped.
But Eduardo can’t…Mark keeps looking at him and he can’t…
“Cab”, Eduardo blurts out.
“That’s your name?” Mark blinks. “Cap?”
“What? No.” He inhales. “I mean, call a cab. You can’t keep walking around like that with your laptop and not expect people trying to rob you.”
It sounds easy enough. Call a cab. Drive home. Be safe. Stop asking. Stop looking.
But of course Mark never does what he is told and he always, always argues against anything Eduardo says. He always has.
“But…”
“No. Just.” Eduardo’s head aches. Or it might’ve been his heart. “Call a cab.”
“You didn’t tell me your name.” Mark is still staring at him. It starts to become unnerving. “I don’t mean your real name. I’m not stupid. But you didn’t tell me your secret superhero name either.”
“No.” Eduardo looks right back and he hopes his voice doesn’t tremble. “No, I didn’t.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, before he vanishes.
Half an hour later he is still shaking.