fic: let's run away. [1/?]

Title: let's run away.
Rating: PG-13 (for now.)
Word count: 1917.
Characters/Parings: Andrew/Jesse.
Summary: Small Town AU. Jesse and Andrew live in a small town they both want to escape from. It's not always that easy, though - or is it?
Author's Notes: The small town thing has been done before, but idk, inspiration hit. This chapter ends really oddly because I ended up getting distracted, but there may be more to come. 

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For Jesse, there was nothing quite as familiar as the scent of pollen, baked dirt, and his best friend Andrew’s shampoo. The same three things, telling him constantly just how repetitive and mapped out his life was. It was ironic, really, that the three things that were reminding him of just how caged in he was, were his favorite smells.

Jesse had lived in the same small town his whole life. The population was so small that everyone was basically related, or destined to be. A country town, of course, permanently covered in a layer of dust and hazy heat waves. The town moved so slow it was damn near criminal, like a lazy leaking tap, dripping away like a background noise. Because that’s what this place was - a background noise to everything. No one cared about the town except for the residents, it had no true meaning or value to anyone who was lucky enough to be outside it. Another thing about the size - it made leaving near impossible. Jesse dreamed about escaping more often than he’d like to admit, but doing so wouldn’t be possible. Every disapproving mother would come out with their clicking tongues, every elderly citizen watching with something that looked like sadness in their eyes, children with sticky fingers and innocent faces, everyone everyone everyone. Everyone would know, or want to know, or need to know all the reasons why. Jesse didn’t have those reasons. All he had was a faded red pickup truck and restless legs and a mind that wanted more than this. God, he wanted more than this.

Lying in his room, Jesse pushed his hair off of his damp forehead, the fan he’d plugged in to the wall doing nothing but circulating hot air around the small space. He shed his shirt, the fabric clinging to his back like a needy toddler before he tossed it onto the ground. Jesse wasn’t comfortable with his body, he wasn’t comfortable with much about himself, but it was too hot for him to think about it too much. The window was open, but Jesse knew that was a more than fruitless effort, because the only kind of breezes that rolled through town were full of pure heat. If he craned his neck a little, he could see out into the backyard. It was a graveyard, though, nothing but spindly remains of what used to be. There was a bent, shriveled tree that had died many summers ago, the branches nothing but fragile reminders of the past. The grass was parched, a sickly yellow shade that reminded Jesse of acrid vomit and hospital wards. There wasn’t much else, only a few weeds that has sprung up over the years, but the heat wasn’t kind to them either, and they looked about as withered as Jesse felt.

Jumping a little when he heard the front door open, Jesse blinked the drowsiness out of his eyes, pushing himself up and padding out into the living room. It was Andrew, of course it was. No one else would come inside without knocking. Jesse raised his hand in greeting, collapsing onto the sunken couch and raising his knees to his chest.

“Hey, Jess.” Andrew greeted him, kicking off his shoes and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Jesse noted the slight smudges of dirt on his face, the way his body puckered beneath him. He looked exhausted, and his drooping eyes said he felt it, too.

“How was work?” Jesse asked, sounding every bit like a stay-at-home wife.

Andrew had an apprenticeship with the local builder, and he’d been working all summer, earning next to no money and doing a hell of a lot of manual labor. It was wearing him to the bone, both Andrew and Jesse knew that, but Andrew had to have something he could do when he finished high school. Jesse planned to commute to the city and attend college, if money allowed it, but that was a while away yet.

“Work was okay. How was your day?”

Jesse sighed, because Andrew never liked to admit he was tired, or aching, or whatever the hell else. Letting his legs down, Jesse gestured for Andrew to sit on the ground in front of him. Andrew obliged, Jesse cracking his fingers before setting to work on Andrew’s shoulders. They were every bit as tense as they looked, Jesse working his fingers over the material of Andrew’s shirt. Andrew let out a sigh, relaxing into Jesse’s soothing hands, feeling the tension slip away as Jess kneaded his muscles. “Thanks, Jess.” Andrew murmured, allowing the tiredness he was feeling to wash over him, his eyes drifting shut.

“You can go sleep in my room. I’ve got some stuff to do, I’ll wake you up later on.” Jesse untangled himself from the couch, pulling Andrew up and sending him down the hall. Andrew looked like a dead man walking, though he managed to send Jesse a tired, grateful look before disappearing behind Jesse’s doorway.

Andrew deserved sleep. He deserved a lot of things, really. He deserved more than this washed up town and pipe dreams and a builders apprenticeship. Jesus Christ, he deserved so much more.
It was 11 PM when Andrew came back into the living room, his hair even wilder than it had been before, a drowsy look on his face. “You didn’t wake me up.”

Jesse shrugged. “You looked tired.” Jesse, when Andrew had been asleep, had made dinner, showered and redressed, watched mindless television, and thought. “There’s pasta in the microwave if you want it. It might need a little reheating, though.”
Andrew smiled widely at Jesse, going into the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he called as he reheated the pasta. Jesse smiled a little to himself, and thought the very same thing about Andrew.

Ten minutes later, after Andrew had wolfed down the remainder of the pasta, the two boys went outside. The air was still stifling, of course it was, despite the fact it was almost half past 11 at night. Andrew laid down on the grass, ignoring the rough scratchiness of it, and giving Jesse a beseeching look that said ‘lie down, asshole’. Jesse grinned a little, lying down next to his best friend and looking up at the sky.
It was beautiful, Jesse would give it that. The stars were breathtaking, diamonds scattered across the inky darkness like beacons of hope. It was like new life, a beautiful collage of discovery, fresh beginnings.

“I’ve missed this.” Andrew muttered, his eyes cast upwards, reflecting everything he was watching.

“So have I.” Jesse admitted. It had been a while since they’d hung out, with Andrew working, and other things that just got in the way. Jesse could’ve cried at how familiar it all was. All he could smell was Andrew’s damn hair, baked dirt, and pollen, and all he could see was the sky. It was like watching a movie he’d seen a thousand times.

“Do you ever want to get away, Jess?”

“Get away from what?” Jesse played dumb. This was dangerous territory. Too dangerous for him to talk about. He didn’t want to plant seeds into his own head, not when they could spring into millions of plans and ideas that would do absolutely nothing but taunt him.

“Here. This. Everything.” Andrew was no longer watching the sky, his gaze had turned to Jesse, his eyes boring holes in Jesse’s skull and piercing his soul like they always did on nights like this.

Jesse shrugged slightly, keeping silent. He could’t afford to do this.

“Don’t shrug like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Jesse. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I see it, I always see it. You want to escape this place just as much as I do.”
And it was done. Andrew’s words seeping through Jesse’s skin and into his blood stream, traveling around his body at a million miles an hour. “Of course I want to get out of here. But we can’t.”

Andrew laughed, but it was wilder than how he normally did. He sat up, looking up at the sky and then turning back to Jesse. “Why not? What’s really stopping us—Jess. What the fuck is really stopping us?” he asked, his voice pleading by the end of his sentence.

“I..” Jesse intended to list reasons why it was impossible, why it was a stupid idea and why they shouldn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t. “I don’t know.” was all he managed to come up with instead.

Andrew jumped up, looking triumphant. “Exactly, Jess! There’s no reason we can’t leave! We can take the money I’ve got from working, we can use your car, we can just drive. We can leave and not look back. C’mon, Jess, don’t tell me you don’t want too.”

“I.. Andrew, Jesus.” Jesse was struggling to argue, struggling to tell him no when it all sounded so.. Do-able.

“Jess, I know you want too. Just say yes. We can go, Jess. We can grab the keys and go right now. Just say the word.” Andrew eyes were flashing, a smile on his face. He knew Jesse, he knew him better than anyone. And he knew just how much Jesse wanted to get away.

Jesse knew exactly how Andrew was feeling. Adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug, excitement, fear, restlessness. All of it piling up into something that refused to be ignored.

“C’mon, Jess. We can go anywhere! The city, the sea, wherever. You can write like you’ve always wanted too, I can act.. We can do it.. Just tell me I’m crazy and I’ll stop. Tell me I’m crazy and we can act like I never said any of this.”

But it was far too late for that. Jesse couldn’t act like Andrew hadn’t just said all of that, and he wouldn’t act like it, either. “Okay.” he murmured, raising his eyes to meet Andrew’s gaze. “Okay.” he repeated, his voice stronger this time.

“Okay—Okay?!” Andrew yelped, his face breaking into a grin as he jumped in the air, fist pumping and whooping. Reaching out, he took Jesse’s hand in his, pulling him up and pulling him into a hug. “We’re really doing it, Jess.” he muttered, stepping back and looking at Jesse, eyes shining. “Okay. Grab your stuff. We’ll have to stop at my house for a couple of minutes to grab my stuff. We’re really fuckin’ doing this!” he laughed gleefully, punching a fist into the air.

Jesse laughed, the noise sounding loud in his ears as he stumbled inside, going up to his room. He looked around for a few seconds, unsure of - well, everything. What was he supposed to take? Shaking himself out of his state, he grabbed a bag out of his closet, grabbing mostly clothing and shoving them in. He grabbed a couple of things from the bathroom, a few books, and a photograph of his mother that was sitting on top of a cabinet in the hallway. Andrew was standing at the door, keys jingling in his hands, excitement in his eyes. Taking a few seconds to look around the living room, he gave a silent goodbye to what had been his home his whole life, before switching off the lights, and following Andrew outside. Locking the front door, Jesse looked over his home, closing his eyes for a moment before turning, and getting into the pickup truck next to Andrew.

It was time to escape.

Someone To Bring Home. [Part 2/?]

Rating: Eventually NC-17, but as of now, PG~

Summary: A Jesse/Andrew High School AU, where Jesse goes to school in America, and Andrew in England, and there's a pen pal programme between their schools. They exchange letters every fortnight, and their friendship develops quickly, perhaps into something more?

A/N: This chapter is horribly short, because I'm currently sick and my brain is not functioning. D: 
Apologies in advance for this~~

Part One.

Jesse wrote back, answering Andrew’s questions and asking more, making comments that sounded witty in his head and not caring so much about how he sounded. He, in all honesty, felt comfortable – which was ridiculous, because he didn’t know Andrew, and he never felt this way around people, whether he knew them or not. It was disconcerting at the very least.

He received Andrew’s reply a week and a half later, noting that this time, instead of dreading his reply, he was anticipating it. He felt as though Andrew’s letters made up one big book, each individual letter just a chapter – and he wanted to read the book now, find out everything about him, every twist and turn in the plot line of his life, but instead, he was forced to read one chapter every two weeks.

Reading Andrew’s reply, he couldn’t keep the small smile off his face - he’d replied with just as much – if not more – gusto, sounding interested in Jesse’s everyday life, answering Jesse’s countless questions, along with informing him that he, Andrew, had in fact fallen off his chair laughing at the comments Jesse had made.

It wasn’t that, though, that had Jesse feeling nervously excited, (which wasn’t a familiar feeling to Jesse). No, it was the small P.S, right down the bottom of the page.

P.S – You should email me! Only if you want too, I mean, but it’s a lot faster than writing, and I get impatient waiting for your letter! But please, don’t feel obliged, because I probably do need to learn how to wait, hahahaha.

Andrew wanted Jesse to Email him! Jesse was nervous – because Email, like Andrew said, is a lot faster than writing a letter and sending it across the ocean. It’s nearly instantaneous. It’d be a lot more pressure and a lot more.. personal. It scared Jesse, and for what seemed to be the millionth time, Jesse was annoyed at himself because it was just an Email. He wasn’t going to meet Andrew, ever. He didn’t know why he wound himself up so much.

Still, it took him six days of writing Haiku and working at the Animal Shelter before he actually did it. Six days of wondering what was wrong with him and six days of receiving strange looks from his friends because he was jumpy and nervous as if Andrew was going to waltz right into the Cafeteria when they were eating their lunch. Not that he’d actually know if it was Andrew, because he’d never seen him in his life, and Jesus, they’d only exchanged three letters, because Jesse’s reply hadn’t even been sent yet. It was tiring and Jesse had no idea what on earth to make of it.

That night, he sat on his computer, signing in to his rarely used Email account, his fingers twitching nervously on the keyboard.


Subject: Hi.

Hi. Here I am. Emailing you awkwardly.

If you didn’t realize from the account name, it’s me, Jesse. Your pen pal thing. Yes.

I’m going to stop now.

Oh, and happy birthday for the other week.


It only takes Andrew an hour to reply (not that he was constantly refreshing his inbox), and Jesse wonders what the time it is there.


Subject: You’re delightful!

Hi! You Emailed! I was a little worried that maybe I’d suggested it to soon, but you’re interesting, and I like talking to you! Sorry, I tend to use a lot of exclamation marks whenever I talk to you. Don’t mind me.

Anywho, how was your day? And your week? How are you?

Asdfghjkl, sorry. I always end up asking a lot of dumb questions.

Thanks for the birthday wishes!


Subject: I’m really quite the opposite.

Yes, I did Email. You’re so strange. But don’t worry, because I am too. And it’s okay, I probably need more exclamation marks in my life because I rarely use them. Bring on the exclamations.

My day was okay. My week was fine. I’m good. Thanks for asking. Yourself?

No, they’re not dumb questions, I just give dumb answers. Sorry.

You’re welcome.


Subject: No way. 

!!!!!!!!!! There’s some exclamations for you. I hope they bring exclamationy joy and happiness into your life! We can be strange together!

You’re answers aren’t dumb! They’re mysterious!

Have you done anything exciting?

My day was great. School was boring but I had a great coffee this morning. Well, I should say yesterday morning, because it’s 1 AM here now! My week was nice. I’m Emailing you, which makes it a whole lot cooler! I’m good, Jess. If I may call you that?

I like you!


Subject: Yes way.

Thank you for those exclamation marks, kind sir. And I don’t know, I’m more of a lone weirdo. But I think I can make an exception for you.

Yes, mysterious. I can go with that.

Exciting? Not really, unless you find writing Haiku and spending a lot of time at an Animal Shelter exciting.

I’ve never tried coffee. I don’t think I want too. It smells strong and looks strange and I don’t want to risk it.

It’s 1 AM? It’s only 8 PM here. Time zones are so weird.

I’m glad to hear you had a good week. And sure. I mean, if you want. My friends call me Jess sometimes. So you can too.

You don’t really know me.


Subject: You’re great and you know it.

I’m an exception?! Why, I’m honoured, Jess. :D

On the contrary, I do find Haiku and Animal Shelters interesting! Tell me about it!

You’ve never tried coffee? My God, get your ass to the nearest coffee shop pronto. You haven’t lived till you’ve tried it.

Only 8! Wow! Looks like I’ll be having late nights, then.

Good! Jess it is. Jess Jess Jessity Jess. Oh my GOD I’m the most annoying person ever. Sorry!!

I want to, though.


Subject: I’m ridiculous and I know it.

Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head.

Well okay. I wrote like a billion Haiku because I do that sometimes when I feel like it. My mom tends to get worried when I write them because when I was younger I used to do them when something was up I guess. But now I just write them cause I like too. And as for the Animal Shelter, I volunteer there whenever I need distracting or feel like working. Usually a combination of them both. So yeah.

But what if I don’t like it?

You can sleep, if you want. I feel like I’m keeping you awake.

You’re not annoying, you’re nice.



Subject: I’m ridiculous, not you.

Of course I won’t! :D

I’d love read a Haiku of yours sometime! I’m sure you’re fantastic.

That’s so nice. You’re nice. Seriously Jesse, why are you so great? It’s unfair on the rest of us normal people!

What did you need to be distracted from? Is something wrong? :(

It doesn’t matter if you don’t, but if you haven’t tried it, you’ll never know!

No, no! It’s fine. My sleeping schedule is erratic anyway.

You’re nice, too! It’s refreshing.

Sorry. That was kinda heavy, wasn’t it?


Subject: Hush, you.

Good. I guess that means we’re officially weirdos together.

I’m not. I suck, actually. Most of them don’t make sense because I don’t really think when I write them, it’s just a lot of nonsense strung together.

I’m not nice! Really, I’m actually weird and not at all great. Trust me.

No, I just missed being there, that’s all. Nothing’s wrong. Everything is dandy, really.

But I’d rather live not knowing if I like it or not rather than live hating it.

If you’re sure. I don’t want you to be tired for school.

Refreshing? Aren’t people nice there?

No, it’s okay!


Subject: Never! :D

Yay! :D Made my day!

You don’t suck at writing Haiku, Jess. I bet you’re amazing!

You are so. Don’t argue, because I know for a fact that you are. You, Jesse Eisenberg, are nice.

Oh, okay! Phew! I was worried.

Why? Wouldn’t you rather know? :D

Meh. I’ll go to bed soon. Talking to you is funner than sleeping.

They’re nice, yeah. But you’re so, real. I don’t know. They’re kinda fake nice, whereas you’re genuinely great. Know what I mean?

Okay! (:


And so, for the rest of the night, they exchanged Emails, getting to know each other, Jesse laughing out loud more times than he could recall. Andrew was funny, and everything was so easy going between them, so natural. It was great. Different, but Jesse liked it a lot. Jesse eventually ordered Andrew to go to bed when it was 11, because it was 4 AM where he was and that was plain ridiculous. Bidding him goodnight, he forbade him to reply to the message until morning; but of course, Andrew ignored that completely.


Subject: Goodnight!!

Okay, okay, I’ll sleep. BUT I HAD TO REPLY. :D

Goodnight, Jess!

Have a good sleep, and all of that. Hope you have a nice day at school tomorrow – I know I will, with all of the sleep I got (;

Joking, I’ll be fine.



And when Jesse received the reply, he couldn’t help but stare at the little, parting ‘x’, for perhaps a moment too long. But it was friendly, of course, because they hadn’t even gotten onto the topic of sexuality, so Andrew didn’t even know he was gay, and plus it was likely that Andrew himself was straight. It was a friendly x, because they were friends now. Yes. Good.

Jesse/Andrew High School AU.

Title: Someone to Bring Home.
Rating: Eventually NC-17, but as of now, PG~
Summary: A Jesse/Andrew High School AU, where Jesse goes to school in America, and Andrew in England, and there's a pen pal programme between their schools. They exchange letters every fortnight, and their friendship develops quickly, perhaps into something more?

High School is an average - if not below average - time for most people. Jesse Eisenberg considers his time in high school to be going okay. He gets good grades, and he has a few friends – but he’s kind of just.. there. He’s not having the time of his life or breaking academic records or being particularly outstanding in anything. He doesn’t want to be like that, though; he’s content. He’s happy with it. He doesn’t ask for much and he doesn’t expect much, because in life neither of those things seem to be a good thing. So he goes too school, and he talks to his friends, and he studies instead of going too parties but that’s fine, because Jesse doesn’t like parties anyway. He doesn’t care much for horny, drunk teenagers rubbing against each other while music that makes it impossible to think booms from some rich kid’s stereo. Jesse is pretty happy.

His best friends are Emma, and Justin, and Kristen, and Joe, but sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s really cut out to be their friends. They’re all funny and nice and are always a lot of fun, whereas Jesse is strange and not funny at all and slightly neurotic. He sometimes feels out of place, because they are normal and they like to go to go out a lot, whereas Jesse isn’t normal and he hates going out for more than once a week. They all know that Jesse is gay and they’re all okay with that; he told them when he was fifteen and he’s sixteen, almost seventeen, now, so Jesse is pretty positive they don’t mind. Sometime’s he talks to Armie too, but Armie’s on the football team and was Prom King, so Jesse feels a little intimidated by him, and when Armie laughs at the things Jesse says, Jesse isn’t sure if he’s laughing at his words, or at him.


“Can you believe this?!” Emma exclaimed excitedly one lunch time, after English and before History. “We actually get too write to people from England. This is the best idea Mrs. P has had in a long time.”

In the English class Jesse, Emma, and Justin had just come from, the teacher, Mrs. Profitt, told them about the pen-pal thing. Joe would be doing it too, but he was sick today. Kristen had dropped English. They were apparently going to write letters to kids their age, at a school in England; much to the excitement of Emma, and to the distaste of Justin.

“Seriously? I don’t want to write a boring ass letter about myself to some random kid who probably drinks tea and eats scones all the time, okay?” Justin - who was perpetually lazy, except for when it came to dancing and singing - complained.

Jesse rolled his eyes at Justin, tossing a peanut at him. “Don’t be stereotypical. Not everyone from England drinks tea and eats scones.”

Justin sighed, but he was grinning. “Whatever. I’m going to go appeal to Mrs. P. Catch you on the flipside, guys.” he stood up, giving them a wave, and making his way out of the cafeteria.

Jesse glanced at Emma, shrugging. “I kinda like writing.”


Unsurprisingly, Justin’s appeal was fruitless. According to Mrs. P, they’d only need to send one or two letters a month, so Justin begrudgingly accepted the inevitable. So, there Jesse was, hunched over his desk in the stuffy classroom, struggling to think of what to say. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say – the template sheet the teacher had handed out had the usual; name, family, where you’re from, hobbies, etc – but Jesse found himself stuck for ever that. Sighing, he clicked his pen, beginning to write to his assigned pen pal – someone called Andrew Garfield.

So.. Hi, I guess. You must be Andrew.

My name is Jesse, and I’m from America. Obviously. I mean, you already know that. I think. I suppose? I don’t think I’m making sense..

Anyway.. I’m Jesse (I think I said that already), and I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen. I live with my mother, and father and two sisters. I’m not very interesting. Sorry.

I like.. cats. And maps. And I like reading and writing and I’m probably what’s considered a nerd or a geek or whatever.

Um.. I sound completely crazy, I’m sure of it. Sorry. I really don’t know what to say. I’ve never done the whole pen pals thing before. I guess I should probably ask you stuff..

Um, what’s England like? I mean, I’ve seen pictures and read about it, but I suppose it’s different in real life..

I don’t know. I think I’m rambling.

What’s your school like? I guess high school is just high school everywhere, but.. Do you like school?

Do you have any pets? What would you like to do when you’re older? What is your favorite meal or snack? Sorry, I’m kinda just copying things from a template. You don’t have to answer those.

I think this has been awkward enough. I feel weird and informal and uncomfortable with this but Mrs. P said to write it as though you were speaking so I guess that’s why it’s terrible.

Yours sincerely?

Jesse Eisenberg.

Sure, it was kinda short, but it was the awkward first letter – he supposed they’d get longer as they spoke.

Handing the letter to Mrs. P on the way out of class, he felt a little nervous; what if this Andrew guy thought he was really strange and crazy and downright stupid? Pushing the thought from his mind, he shook himself internally – it was only a stupid English assignment, right? He wasn’t even going to meet this Andrew Garfield person, so what did it matter? Still, Jesse couldn’t help but dread the reply he knew was coming. He had people from his own Country who thought he was weird, he didn’t want to be thought of that way internationally. Deciding he didn’t care, he squared his shoulders and waited for Emma, Joe, and Justin outside the door of the classroom.


Two weeks later, Jesse had nearly forgotten about the whole pen pal fiasco. Not that it was even a fiasco, really, but it was near the back of his mind, and he hadn’t thought about it too much since that class. Instead, he busied himself – buying three new maps, correcting them all; volunteering at the animal shelter down the street from his house ever other day, instead of on weekends; attempting to teach his mother how to cook a bigger variety of vegetarian dishes; and writing a lot of Haiku that didn’t make much sense at all.

I am a free bird,
Whispering in the light wind,
I can’t find my home.

I look at the sky,
I cannot find anything,
What is wrong with me?

Do I really care,
About what they think of me?
Sadly, yes, I do.

What is a Haiku?
Why do I always write them?
I’ll move to Japan.


The curly haired boy looked up from his Haiku, his mother standing in the doorway of his room, looking at him carefully. The look on her face made him nervous. He hoped they weren’t going to have a serious talk. “Yeah, mom?”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked, looking at him, concerned. She sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to her. Now, he was nervous.

“Nothing, mom.” he replied, going to sit next to her, as requested. He’d never been really all that great at talking about how he felt.

”Jesse, I’m your mother, and I know something is wrong. You’ve been busying yourself lately, and you always do that when you don’t want to think about something. Plus, you’ve been writing Haikus again.”

“It’s Haiku, mom.” he corrected her, ignoring the rest of her little speech. He didn’t want to talk about anything, because there was nothing wrong. There really wasn’t. He just liked Haiku and being busy, that was all.

His mother looked at him, sighing quietly. He knew she was just concerned, but he still couldn’t help but look away, wishing she’d let it go. He was nearly seventeen, he wasn’t a baby. “Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Okay.. I love you, Jess. I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything, you know that.” and with that, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, ruffling his hair.

Mom.” he grumbled, shying away instinctively, although he was smiling a little. “Okay. Love you too.” he gave her a quick hug, before standing up and going back to his desk. “And thanks.” he added, giving his mother a grateful smile as she left the room.


The next day, Jesse sat in English, fidgeting a little because Mrs. P was late and the class was getting restless. Apparently the replies to their letters had arrived, but no one was really sure because it was one of those class rumors that could be true but sometimes aren’t. Jesse hates those rumors – they’re disappointing, like when someone says they’re going to be watching a film in class, and then it turns out they’re actually going to be writing essays, and there’s no movie involved at all.

Resting his elbows on his desk, he placed his chin in his hands, his foot tapping against the floor impatiently – Mrs. P had never been late before. Half a minute later, Mrs. P decided to arrive – a wad of letters clamped in one hand, and a triumphant look on her face. After apologizing, and explaining that the letters had been put in the wrong place, and that’s why she was late, she began handing out the letters. One landed on Jesse’s desk, his name printed carefully in firm hand writing on the blank page, because it had been folded over.

Obviously they’d been packaged together, not individually, so all Jesse had to do was unfold the paper, not open an envelope – but still, he found himself staring at the letter, unsure. He really didn’t know why he was feeling like he was; it seemed unjustified, an over-reaction. It was only a letter, and he knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t felt quite so helpless since grade school, where he was bullied mercilessly and tied to trees with a huge knot of sweaters.

Picking up the letter between his fingers, he glanced around the class – mostly everyone already peering at their letters, some of them laughing, others looking confused, or otherwise. He had to read it, and he supposed it would be better just to get it out the way. Smoothing the letter out, he took in the slightly messy scrawl, starting from the top.


Yes, I’m Andrew. Andrew Garfield, to be precise, but I’m not a cat and I don’t like lasagne so don’t make fun of me for that! (I’m joking, by the way, but it’s hard to show humour through writing. Although I am seriously not a cat, and I actually don’t like lasagne. Go figure!)

Hi, Jesse! I do indeed know you’re from America. I think America seems awfully exciting – I’d love to move there one day. It’s so big and there’s so much to do and there’s so many people and places to see. I quite like the sound of it.

I’m seventeen (just turned last week, so I suppose when you wrote your letter I was probably still sixteen!) and I think you’re very interesting! What are your parents and siblings called? I live with my mother and father, and I have an older brother, but he moved out a while ago for University.

I like cats too! My cat is crazy and I’m beginning to think she’s an alcoholic. I think you sound great! Not nerdy, or geeky at all. You write? That’s cool! I wish I could write, but I can’t, not for the life of me. I like reading, too, especially comics. (How’s that for nerdy?) I like food, and I quite enjoy acting too.

You don’t sound crazy in the slightest. I sound crazy. I’m rambling like a loon and I’m sure you’re probably bored to tears right now. Apologies for that.

England is England. I do like it, but the grass is always greener on the other side. I’d like to move somewhere else, as a lot of people do. It’s probably the same in real life as it is in pictures! You’ll have to visit one day!

I quite enjoy school, I suppose, yes. I have a lovely group of friends and I think learning is okay but it is, like you said, just school. Nothing remarkably fantastic, but I do enjoy it! What about you? Do you like school?

I have my cat, as mentioned previously, and I used to have a fish but he died. I think it was because I didn’t feed him for a week, but I usually tell people it’s because he was old. I don’t like admitting I accidentally killed a fish. I’d like to act! Pipe dream, obviously, because it’s near impossible to actually get anywhere, what with all of the aspiring actors out there who are probably loads better than me, but yes. Oh god, I can’t choose. I love most food. Anything kind of sugary pastry, though.

I feel like I’m talking about myself a lot. Tell me about yourself! Do you have pets and favourite foods and dreams for a career? Tell me, I want to know it all.

It hasn’t been awkward at all, you numpty! It’s been great! I look forward to your reply! I hope we can be great friends, Jesse, because you seem nice.


Andrew Garfield.

When Jesse came to end of the letter, he felt odd. He'd been enjoying himself, reading that - it was as though he knew Andrew personally, even though he knew he didn't. And Andrew hadn't found him weird! Jesse smiled a little to himself, feeling batter. Maybe he wasn't so strange after all. Well, maybe he was, but Andrew was nice enough not to mind, which was a comforting thought. Perhaps a friendship could come out of this, after all.

Part two.

A Mark/Eduardo song fic.

Title: Miss Me.   
Rating: PG~
Summary: A song fic, based on Miss Me, by the fabulous Joe Purdy. 
A/N: This doesn't have a happy ending. ~sigh~. This is what I come up with when listening to my iPod. In this, Eduardo doesn't have his percentage cut, the lawsuit, etc doesn't happen, and it's a little AU but kinda follows the story line. You'll see when you read it~

Some movie star told you this ain't where it's at,
So you packed your bags and one night you headed out

“If Sean thinks we should go to California, I think we should.” Mark Zuckerberg shrugged as he and his business partner, and best friend, Eduardo Saverin, sat in Mark’s dorm room. It was Winter, and the Harvard grounds were freezing, icy and altogether not worth going outside in. They’d had a meeting with Sean Parker (who founded Napster) recently, and he thought they need to move to California, to get in on the action. TheFacebook needed to be in the limelight.

“So, let me get this straight? You’re going to California because Sean Parker thinks you should?” Eduardo asked, his eyebrows raised and his tone disbelieving. Because, of all people, Sean fucking Parker was the one who had impressed Mark? It was madness.

Mark shrugged, averting his eyes from Eduardo’s. “I think he’s right. We need to get in on the action.”

Said, these small town blues got you going insane,
gone into the city, gonna change your name

“We weren’t getting it done in Cambridge, Wardo. It’s better out here. We needed to be here.” Mark explained over the phone. The line was crackling, the static sounds making it hard for Eduardo, who was back in Cambridge, hard to hear. “And I’m changing it, by the way.”

Wardo frowned a little, pressing the phone even closer to his ear. “Changing what?”

“The name. I’ve dropped the The. It’s just Facebook, now.”

And you never look back at where you came,
swore you'll never be the same

“I think I’m going to stay over here. Missing a few more semesters won’t hurt.” Mark told Eduardo, who’d flown over to California to check up on things, as CFO, and as Mark’s best friend.

“A few more semesters?” Wardo asked, looking at Mark.

“Yeah.” And it was then that they both knew – Mark wasn’t coming back at all. He was going to stay in California. “I’ve changed, Wardo. I don’t care about Harvard anymore. I care about my company, and I have to focus on that.”

Do you miss me?
Do you miss me?

Eduardo looks at the two unsent texts he had saved to his cell phone – he’s sitting in his dorm at Harvard, his mind on Mark, whatever he’s doing in his offices in California. He wants to ask the question – but he can’t; because he misses Mark, he misses him a lot, but Mark’s never said anything of the sort to Eduardo – so what if Wardo asks the question, and doesn’t get the reply he wants? Snapping his phone shut, Eduardo rests his head in his hands. Nothing is the same.

You're a big boy now, got your big shoes,
and you're running around with big boy blues.

Eduardo knows Mark’s grown up. He’s not the kid he was back at Harvard, who was concerned about break ups and blogging. No, he’s got bigger things to worry about, bigger fish to fry. He’s got real problems now, not college problems.

 I know you don't doubt yourself anymore,
when you feel like leaving, you’ll walk out the door

Time passes, and Eduardo knows he’s got the whole business sorted. He runs an Empire now, and his workers bow to him. He doesn’t doubt anything – and he’s got everything. The doubts Mark had at the start of it all have washed away, leaving nothing a new Mark, one who’s sure, and knows exactly what he wants, and how to get it.

I bet you ain't got nothing left to learn,
it's better that way cause you never get burned

Eduardo calls Mark from time to time to see how everything’s going. They talk about Facebook, and themselves, and each other. Usually, it’s a rushed call, because Mark has to get away to some meeting or get together or promotional thing, but Eduardo’s used to it now. Mark knows everything about Facebook, now. He knows every trick of the trade, knows how people and companies and the media will try things to annoy him; but he’s learnt it all. Nothing can surprise him anymore, because he’s seen it all. No one can touch him.

You try not to think about what might have been,
cause you know this town is just sink or swim

Wardo hasn’t seen Mark in a year. He’s nearly completed his studies at Harvard, and he’s ready to face the real world now. Eduardo’s grown up too. He thinks back a lot, though he knows he shouldn’t – thinks about what might have happened. Little does he know, Mark thinks back a lot, too. He thinks all of the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘how-it-could-of-beens’. He tries not to, and succeeds on the most part, but sometimes – especially at night, when he’s lying awake, feeling more alone than he ever has in his life – he can’t help but do it.

Do you miss me?
Do you miss me?
Do you miss me?

Sometimes, that’s all Eduardo can think about. He wonders how Mark’s life is going, Facebook aside, if he’s eating and if he’s doing okay and if he’s tired or angry or happy. Wardo tries not to wonder if he’s dating, because that sends a flare of jealousy through him that he doesn’t want to address. Wardo just wants to talk to Mark – but it’s been a long time, and they both get other people to do the talking, if it’s work related. Wardo wants to hug Mark and say ‘hey’ and tell him that he misses him. He wants too, but he can’t.

The last time I say you were waving goodbye
from the back of the plane with a tear in your eye.

Wardo always visits the last memory he had of Mark – Eduardo sitting on a plane, ready to fly back from California, and return to Cambridge. He’s sitting in the back, because it was a more than late booking, but he can see Mark, waving from the terminal. He can’t make out his features, he can’t really make out more than the fact Mark’s waving slowly, but Eduardo has to blink away tears as the engine starts to roar, and suddenly the plane is moving and he can no longer see Mark. It makes him terribly sad when he thinks about it.

Now I hear you're in love with some big city man,
and together you're making your big city plans.

Eduardo drops the glass he’s holding when he reads the news. It shatters, but Wardo can’t find it in him to care. He can’t tear his eyes away from the computer screen, his homepage a news website – and the cover, a picture of Mark, holding hands with some guy, and smiling into the camera, and it’s a smile that Eduardo hasn’t seen it three years. The story tells how Mark Zuckerberg (CEO and creator of Facebook), and Ben Barclay (Screenwriter), are getting married, and are working to make marriage between the same sex legal in California. Of course Mark has a boyfriend (Fiancée, Eduardo corrects his thoughts). It’s been three years - but it doesn’t stop Wardo feeling as though his heart’s been ripped out and stomped on. Wardo lets out a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around himself, as if it will help hold him together. It doesn’t. It doesn’t help at all.

 You hope he don't find out about who you are,
that we used to catch fireflies in mason jars.

Eduardo wonders if Mark told Ben about him. He wonders if Mark told Ben that they were best friends, all through High School and through the start of College. He wonders if Mark told Ben about the times he and Eduardo would sleep outside, under the oak tree up a little hill near Eduardo’s house. He wonders if Mark told Ben about the time he forced him to catch fireflies, and Mark got horribly attached to one in particular, and teared up when he let it go.

 We used to go down to the county fair,
and we listened to blue grass in summer air.

Eduardo wonders if Mark told Ben about the time, when they were 16, and they went to the countryside with Mark’s family for the summer. Eduardo remembers it like it were yesterday; they’d walked to the county fair the little town was having. It was beautiful – it was dusk, the sky red and everyone happy. There were young girls with long dresses and men with jeans rolled up to their knees. Everyone was smiling, as the stalls and attractions began packing up. Eduardo and Mark went to a field nearby, the grass long, and the sounds of fair filtering through the air, filling their ears. They laid down, watching as the sky slowly darkened, music playing that Mark claimed to hate, but they both knew he was enjoying it. It was there that the two of them shared their first kiss; but by the morning, they acted like nothing had happened - but they were young, and scared, and stupid, and neither of them knew what they were feeling. Eduardo wonders if Mark told Ben about it. He hopes that he didn’t. He hopes Mark keeps that memory between them – sacred and special and more meaningful than anything Mark and Ben could ever have.

 We danced all night as the rain came down,
and you held my hand as we slept on the ground

Eduardo remembers what happened when they returned home from the holiday on the countryside. They were happy, nostalgic and still high from the warm bubble the holiday had surrounded them in – they went to the Oak tree, as usual, laughing hysterically as it began to rain, and danced like lunatics for hours, smiling because nothing could touch them. They fell asleep together, their hands entwined from dancing together. Everything was perfect.

We wrote our names in the old oak wood,
I guess some things don't work out like they should.

When he and Mark had awoken, they’d laughed some more, their clothing damp from the rain, but their spirits lively as ever. They’d found a sharp rock, engraving their names into the tree – their tree. Eduardo still likes to visit it sometimes, when he goes home. He walks up the hill, his eyes searching for their names on the trunk – and he always finds it, though it’s more withered and hard to see every time he visits. Wardo wishes a lot of things - but he knows things don’t always work out, in life. That’s just the way it goes.

AU Wardo/Mark Fic.

 Eduardo Saverin wasn’t exactly popular, per se. He wasn’t noticed by, well, anyone, in all honesty. Even the teachers struggled to remember his name. He kept his head down – because it was his nature. He was quiet, focused, and wasn’t a social being, unlike his older siblings. He and his family lived in Manhattan, because of his parents jobs. Eduardo was a Junior, and though high school was a daunting prospect back in Freshman year, especially with no friends to get by with, Wardo was doing well. Sure, he still sat by himself in the cafeteria, and often spent his lunch hours reading, but he was happy.

Sometimes, having a significant lack of friends bothered Wardo. It wasn’t the actual fact of not having friends – he was quite content with his own company – but the annoyance of never having someone to partner up with when a class was told to split into pairs, or someone to tell his parents about. He wondered sometimes if there was something wrong with him; but according to psychiatrists and councillors, he was just a lone body. His parents, both being extremely rich, and successful lawyers, stopped at nothing to diagnose their son with whatever social impairment he had; it took a while before they accepted he chose to be the way he was.


Advanced Calculus had never been Eduardo’s favourite class. It was tedious, and long, and he hated sitting in the stuffy classroom, scribbling down notes and listening to a droning teacher. Still, he’d never skip a class, no matter how much he hated it – so, there he was, just like he was every Tuesday during fourth period. Doodling absently on the corner of his page, he chewed his lip, waiting for the class to be over, so he could use the lunch hour to resume reading Fight Club. Just as he’d dotted the eyes of the seahorse, the door to the class room opened, and a light breeze swept through the room. Wardo looked up, watching curiously as a teacher entered the room, a student trailing along behind them, looking down at his feet.

After a quick, whispered conversation between the two teachers, the visiting teacher left, and the remaining teacher smiled widely at the newcomer, who continued to stare at his feet. “Class, this is Mark Zuckerburg, a new student here at Ferndale. Make sure he feels welcome.” the elderly woman addressed the class, pointing the new student down the back, to the only available seat – right next to Eduardo. Mark shuffled across the classroom, most of the eyes in the room following him, though he seemed not to notice. Wardo moved his chair over slightly, as to give his new classmate some room at his desk – the space had been absent the whole year, and Eduardo wondered if having someone next to him would make Calc more tolerable. Probably not; it was likely he wouldn’t even speak to the newcomer. Oh well, it hardly mattered. Wardo wasn’t expecting a friendship from the seemingly shy new kid. He wasn’t really expecting friendship from anyone.


“Is Calculus always this boring?”

Eduardo glanced sideways, slightly surprised the new kid was talking to him – after all, people never spoke to him; although, this Mark person didn’t know who he was, so Wardo supposed it was different. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Oh.” Mark replied simply.

“So, uh, how do you like this school so far?” Eduardo asked, rather awkwardly at that.

Mark shrugged, glancing at Wardo. “It’s okay, I guess. I haven’t been here long enough to decide if I like it or not.”

“Oh. Well, I’m Eduardo, by the way.”

“I’m Mark. It’s nice to meet you.”


“So, why did you leave your old school?” Eduardo asked, taking a bite of his apple. For once, he wasn’t alone in the cafeteria – Mark was sitting across from him, picking at the food on his tray.

“Does it matter?” Mark looked uncomfortable, dropping his eyes to the floor - Wardo supposed it was quite a personal question.

“Not really.. I was just curious, I guess.” Eduardo mumbled, biting his lip slightly. 

“It’s a boring story, that’s all. You’ll be begging for me to shut up as soon as I begin.” Mark laughed, though there was a slight edge in his voice. Wardo smiled politely, letting the matter go – he wasn’t going to force Mark to tell him.

“Ah, I see. What class have you got next?” Wardo asked, tossing the now finished apple in a nearby trash can. He himself had English, a class that he quite liked, seeing as he read a lot.

“Let me check..” Mark rummaged through his bag, pulling out a neatly folded timetable, “..English.”

Wardo smiled, grabbing his bag as the bell rung. “So do I. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”


That was the Tuesday Eduardo Saverin and Mark Zuckerburg met. After discovering they lived fairly close to each other, they walked home together. That Tuesday afternoon, Eduardo and Mark became friends. Wardo had a friend to tell his parents about, and someone to partner up with in class. Life was good.

“Okay, name the three hottest chicks in school.” Eduardo asked Mark through a mouthful of potato chips, curled up on a large cushion in the corner of the treehouse they were in. They were at Eduardo’s house – in the treehouse, to be precise. It was Eduardo’s from when he was younger, but it was large, fully enclosed, with a bed, television and all. When Wardo was younger, he often stayed in there the night, though he hadn’t in years now.

“Really, Wardo? Really?” Mark rolled his eyes, ignoring the question. Reaching over, he grabbed some potato chips from the bag, dropping them into his mouth as he lied back on the bed. “I don’t notice them. They don’t notice me, either, so I guess it works.” he added, smiling wryly.

“Whatever, man. There’s gotta be someone you’ve noticed!” Eduardo pressed, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“Maybe. I’m not telling you anything.” Mark grinned, blushing slightly, much to Eduardo’s amusement. “Why’re you so interested, anyway?” he went on, throwing a potato chip at Wardo with a grin.

“I’m not, I’m just curious..” Wardo held his hands up, laughing. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Amy in Geography is into you, Marky. You should talk to her.”

“Amy? She’s pretty, I guess, but I don’t really.. Yeah. We should watch a movie now.” Mark ran a hand through his curls, looking slightly sheepish.

“Changing the subject?” Wardo teased, grinning. “What one do you wanna watch?”

“Fight Club!” Mark answered, holding his hand up a high-five. He and Wardo shared a mutual love for Fight Club, and that was one of the things that brought them together.

“Good choice. Fight Club it is. Now move over so I can fit on the bed.” Eduardo stated, setting the DVD up and turning the television on, adjusting the volume. Once he’d pressed the play button, he walked back to the bed, crawling over next to Mark, pulling the comforter onto him, and putting it over Mark too. It was dark outside; the day had passed by quickly, but Mark was staying the night, anyway.

Soon enough, the movie started, and the two boys quickly became immersed. By the time it was finished, it was twelve o’clock, and Mark was half asleep, the two of them sprawled across the bed, having made their ways under the covers properly. Yawning, Wardo grabbed the remote, flicking the television off and chucking the remote onto the ground. It was a little squished, but Wardo was past caring; he was tired, and it was only Mark, anyway.

“I kinda wish Tyler Durden was real. In the movie, I mean.” Mark stated quietly, sounding tired.

“Yeah.. He was cool. And badass.” Wardo replied, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Uh huh. And he and the narrator would’ve made a really good couple.” Mark mumbled, his breathing becoming deeper as he slowly dropped off to sleep.

“Marky...?” Wardo muttered sleepily, turning to look at him, struggling to open his eyes.


“Why did you leave your old school?”

“I.. I was bullied.. Because I’m gay.”

Eduardo felt a surge of anger towards the people that bullied Mark – they drove him out of his school, over his sexuality. Wardo couldn’t believe people could be horrible enough to bully someone because of who they loved. It was disgusting, and utterly unfair on Mark. “What did they do to you?” Wardo whispered, frowning sadly.

“Usually it was just verbal.. Calling me a faggot, queer, and all of that. Then they started pushing me round, shoving me up against lockers, and.. Eventually, they started attacking me whenever they could. They’d corner me whenever they got the chance, and beat me senseless..” Mark trailed off, closing his eyes.

Wardo moved his hand under the blanket, linking his fingers with Mark’s. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that.” Eduardo murmured, looking at his friend, and giving him a small smile.

“Thanks, Wardo.” Mark returned the small smile, and with that, the two boys fell silent, their hands still entwined.


The next morning, Eduardo awoke to the sunlight filtering through the small window on the side of the treehut. Yawning quietly, he stretched out, opening his eyes. Mark was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs, looking as though he hadn’t slept all night. Wardo rubbed his eyes, sitting up and looking at Mark, concerned. “Hey, did you get any sleep last night? You look.. tired.”

Mark shook his head, looking at the ground. The air in the room was awkward, still and silent. Wardo didn’t know what to say, or why everything was weird all of a sudden. Last night everything had been fine. Was Mark angry with him? Eduardo immediately felt sick; his only friend was going to leave and probably never talk to him again.

“Are you.. okay?” Wardo whispered, pulling the comforter around his shoulders, more for comfort, and the feeling of safety, rather than for warmth.

“Do you hate me?” Mark said suddenly, looking up at his friend. He looked scared, as if waiting for bad news. 

“What? Hate you? Why the hell would I hate you? You’re my best friend.” Wardo replied, confused. That was the first time he’d ever referred to Mark as his best friend – but the moment he’d said it, he knew it was true. Mark Zuckerburg and Eduardo Saverin were best friends. “Seriously though, why would in the world would I hate you?”

“I’m your best friend?” Mark asked quietly, hardly daring to believe it. “And I thought you’d hate me ‘cause.. ‘Cause I’m gay.” the curly haired boy added, avoiding Wardo’s gaze. He wasn’t particularly familiar with people being okay with the fact – even his parents despised it. His father, for one, didn’t even speak to him anymore, and his mother only did if she had too.

“Of course you’re my best friend. And you thought I would hate you over that? I don’t hate you at all, Mark. I wouldn’t hate you if you were gay, straight, or bi. I’m glad you told me about everything.. Now get up here – you look freezing.” Wardo demanded, smiling slightly at Mark and holding the blanket up, gesturing for his friend to get underneath it.

Mark shuffled into the bed, his skin icy where it pressed against Wardo’s. He looked as though he was going to fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. “Do you wanna get some sleep?” Eduardo asked, looking at the black smudges beneath Mark’s eyes.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not that tired. I don’t sleep much, so it probably looks worse than it actually is.” Mark explained, resting his head against the pillow. “Are your parents home?”

Wardo shook his head, turning slightly to face Mark. “No, they left for California this morning. They have a job there.”

“Oh, I see. What do they do?”

“They’re lawyers. They go away a lot.”

“Do you miss them when they leave?”

“When I was a kid, yeah. But now I’m kinda used to it.” Wardo admitted, a little wistfully. When he was younger, he had nannies to look after him and his siblings, but now he looked after himself, and his older brother and sister had gone to college. “What are your parents like?”

Mark looked at Wardo, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know – they haven’t spoken to me since I told them I was gay. Well, my mom talks to me when she really has to, but my dad hasn’t spoken a word. It’s been a whole year.” he stated quietly, sadness flickering through his tone. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got you now, right?” Mark laughed quietly, looking out the window as the sun slowly rose higher into the sky.

“Yeah, exactly.” Wardo grinned, though he still felt sad for Mark – his parents, of all people, should accept him, not block him out like they did. “Also, you know I’ll always be here for you, right? You can tell me anything, and I’ll still be here.”

“Thank you, Eduardo.” Mark smiled, the sincerity seeping through his voice. “That.. means a lot. I hope you know that.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Wardo returned a smile, reaching down and holding Mark’s hand gently. Eduardo wasn’t sure if normal sixteen year old boys held hands, but he didn’t care, because they were best friends, and that’s what best friends did, right? He wasn’t really sure about what he was supposed and not supposed to be doing, socially, but holding Mark’s hand felt warm, and nice, and Mark didn’t seem to mind, so Wardo presumed it was fine.

Soon enough, it became a habit for the two boys to link hands – it made them feel safe. Usually, whenever Eduardo’s parents left town, Mark would come round, so he almost lived with Wardo. The treehouse soon became their place; they spent the majority of their time there, talking, watching movies, playing video games, all of that.

“Marky?” Eduardo mumbled, a grin evident in his voice.

“Yes, Wardo?” the other boy answered, laughing. He could tell his best friend was going to suggest something, and it would most likely be some idea to do something or go somewhere.

“We need to go to a party, man.”

“A party?” Mark frowned, pausing the Xbox game he was playing. “What kind of party?”

“A party party. We’re sixteen – doesn’t it strike you as weird we’ve never been to one?”

“Weird? On the contrary, I find it normal we’ve never been to one. It’s not even legal for us to be drinking yet, and no doubt if we go to a party, there will be drinking! Amongst other illegal things!” Mark pointed out, the words coming out slightly louder than he’d intended them too.

“Lighten up, Marky. What’s the worse that can happen?” Eduardo replied, grinning at his friend’s words.

“Hello! Alcohol poisoning, Liver damage, choking on our own vomit and dying! As well as the embarrassing effects alcohol has on people..”

“Jesus, Mark. Stop thinking so much.” Wardo laughed, mussing his friends hair. “There’s one tonight. It’s Jen’s, from History. She invited me, and I asked if you could come, and she said yeah.”

“Jen asked you to go to her party?” Mark asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I talk to her sometimes in Economics. So are we gonna go?” Wardo asked, looking at Mark imploringly.

“Sure. If you wanna.” Mark nodded, though he was still thinking about Jen inviting Wardo – since when were they friends? Not that he cared; he was curious, that was all.

“Okay, then it’s settled. We’re going to Jen’s party. Hey, I heard she was inviting people from outside of school – so maybe you’ll meet a guy.” Wardo winked – yes, winked – and stood up, crouching slightly; he’d had a growth spurt lately, and the roof of the treehouse was a tad short.

“Jesus..” Mark shook his head, laughing, though there was a slight edge to the sound. The curly haired boy had never actually had a boyfriend before; and he wasn’t sure boys at a party would want the same thing he did.

“Come on, let’s go to the house and get ready.” Wardo called, already opening the door out to the little balcony and making his way down the ladder. Mark followed suit, making his way carefully down the ladder and into the house.

“I’m going to have a shower – you can have one too, if you want. I’ll use mom and dad’s bathroom, you can use the main one?” Eduardo offered, grabbing two towels from a cupboard, chucking one to Mark, and keeping the other for himself.

“Sounds good. Catch you on the flip side.” Mark grinned, walking into the bathroom, laughing as he heard Wardo call out the reply, “Don’t miss me too much!”

Turning the water on, Mark quickly undressed, slipping into the burning water, the heat instantly relaxing him. Washing his hair, he let his mind wander to the party later on. He’d never been to a party before; and he wasn’t entirely sure what was in store, but it couldn’t be that scary, could it? Washing himself, he then switched the water off, stepping out of the shower. Drying himself, he wrapped the towel around his waist, going into Wardo’s room and grabbing the overnight bag that he’d brought. Rummaging through it, he grabbed some clothing, hastily getting dressed before Wardo could come in.

Just as Mark pulled his jersey on, Wardo came in, towel wrapped around his waist and his chest glistening with water. Mark nearly choked, forcing his eyes away from his best friend’s chest. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” he said, breathless, heat rising to his face as he all but ran from the room. Wardo shrugged, going to his wardrobe. Out in the kitchen, Mark was sitting on one of the stools, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

Firstly, Eduardo was his best friend. Secondly – Eduardo was his straight best friend. Mark closed his eyes, trying not to think of his best friends chest, the dark hair dusted down his abdomen - a trail that lead somewhere Mark  was not allowed to think about. The V shape of his hips, again leading down to said forbidden place.. God, Mark needed to get a hold of himself.

“Ready for the party, Marky?” Eduardo came out of his room, grinning at the almost rhyme. He had a pair of dark skinny jeans on, a V-neck that would probably look horrible on someone else, but looked good on him. Mark was in his shorts, and baggy jersey, as always.

“Mark!” Wardo groaned when he saw his friend, chuckling at the casual attire Mark was dressed in. “Dress up, man! Come on, you can wear something of mine.” he added, grabbing Mark’s hand and dragging him to his room.

“Okay, okay.. You know I don’t like dressing up.” Mark pointed out, though he was grinning.

“Lies. You love it.” Wardo returned the wide smile, opening a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a button down, and throwing them at Mark. They were more or less the same size, thankfully. 

“Whatever, Wardo.” Mark laughed, quickly getting dressed, smoothing down the shirt and tugging at the jeans, pulling a face. Looking in the mirror, he frowned slightly – he looked different. It was strange, seeing himself, and hardly recognizing who it was. It wasn’t as if he really looked that different, it was just absolutely unfamiliar.

“Marky, you’re lookin’ sharp!” Wardo grinned, nudging his best friend playfully. It was true – Mark looked good, and more than that; he felt good, too.

“Thanks, Wardo. You’re looking sharp yourself.” Mark smiled, looking over at the straight haired boy.

“The party starts at-” Eduardo checked his phone, “-nine. We’ve got a couple hours till then – do you want to go out, get some food or something?”

Mark shrugged, nodding. “Sure, sounds good. Where are we gonna go?”

“The Sushi Bar?”

And so the two of them went to the Sushi Bar, taking Wardo’s car and deciding that, since it was his car, Eduardo would be the sober driver. Not that either of them actually planned on drinking much at all – it was just that it was better to have a plan. After they ate their sushi, they walked to a nearby 7/11, buying some mints, because they both agreed having seaweed-ish breath wasn’t attractive. At nine, they headed to the party, getting the address from Wardo’s cellphone.

Arriving at the house, the two of them looked at each other – the place was almost completely covered in twinkling fairy lights. “Wow. They went all out with decorating.” Mark murmured, as they hopped out of the car. The two of them, though they wouldn’t admit it, were nervous – it was their first party, after all.

“I know, right.. How did she get the lights on the roof like that?” Wardo replied. There were already a lot of cars out front, and music could be heard – there was also a large group of people milling around the front door, most of them Mark and Wardo recognized from school.

“Should we go inside?” Mark asked, looking around, slightly unsure.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Eduardo confirmed, reaching out to hold Mark’s hand, but stopping mid-reach. Dropping his hand back to his side awkwardly, he looked down. “Sorry.” he muttered, walking towards the door, without Mark’s hand in his.

“It’s fine..” Mark replied quietly, though he wasn’t sure if Wardo had even heard him. His hand felt empty, cold, and he felt – well, sad. He understood, but that didn’t change his emotions. Looking up, he saw Wardo being greeted by Jen, the host, who had wrapped her arms around him and was hugging him, for much longer than actually necessary, at that. Mark looked down, walking past Eduardo, who was obviously busy, and straight into the house. There were people everywhere he looked, most of them with a red cup in hand, talking and laughing with others.

Making his way to the kitchen, Mark ignored everyone who was looking at him, looking for the alcohol everyone seemed to have – and yeah, he hadn’t planned on drinking; but fuck it, he could try something new. Wardo had said it himself: What’s the worst that could happen?

Finding the source of the alcohol, he grabbed a cup, downing the contents – beer. It was horrible, but no matter. Mark finished the cup, grabbing another and scoping the kitchen. There was a few people in the corner, pouring out shots of vodka – that looked promising. Chugging down the beer in the new cup, he walked over to the people in the corner, grabbing a discarded shot glass, holding it out to be filled. Mark sat there for god knows how long, doing a few rounds of shots, but mostly watching everyone around him. He hadn’t seen Wardo, not that he’d been looking for him – even thought that was exactly what he’d been doing.

“Spin the bottle!” screamed a random voice from the middle of the room, and suddenly, Mark felt himself being dragged down to the slowly forming circle. There was about nine people sitting in the poorly formed circle, but no one really cared – and Mark wasn’t concerned about anything, not with the alcohol in his system. Some random girl spun the bottle that had been placed in the middle of the circle, giggling madly as it pointed towards some other girl, and the two began kissing sloppily across the circle. The next person spun it, and then the next, all of them laughing and grinning about the whole ordeal. The next person to spin it was a boy with bright blue eyes, and definitely didn’t attend Mark and Wardo’s school – Mark would’ve noticed him before. He had sandy blond hair, which was flopping messily across his forehead, and he was smiling at Mark – with perfect teeth and dimples and everything. Suddenly, everyone was looking at Mark, and he realized the bottle had landed on him – it was now or never.

Leaning across the circle, Mark let his eyes flutter shut, his lips meeting the other boys. It felt as though everything was scorching hot, the sound of the party dying out as the kiss quickly became more passionate, Mark parting his lips as the blond boy’s tongue flicked forward to meet his own. Mark brought his hand up to the strangers face, cupping his cheek as their tongues danced, absent mindedly moving closer to the other boy. All of a sudden, the kiss was broken, and Mark was looking straight into the other boys eyes, his heart racing and his lips swollen.

The blond boy looked the same, his pupils blown, his lips swollen from the kiss – he stood up, pulling Mark with him, no one around them caring, or even noticing. “Are you gay?” the boy, who was in fact called Dean, whispered silkily, holding on to one of Mark’s hands. Mark only managed a nod, noting that this boy’s hand was nowhere near as nice as Wardo’s was.

“Right. I’m Dean. Would you be interested in.. going upstairs?” the blond asked, raising an eyebrow and surveying Mark, his electric blue eyes almost impossible to look away from.

“I.. okay.” Mark nodded, following Dean as he pulled him down the hall, and up a carpeted staircase. “I’m Mark.” he added as stumbled behind him, ignoring the voice in his head that was screaming, ‘You’re drunk, and he’s only interested in a quick fuck’.

With that, Mark felt himself being pulled gently into a room, and having the door pushed closed behind him. Everything was a little blurry, probably due to the fact his eyes were half closed, so he gave a tiny gasp as he was pushed backwards onto a bed, and Dean climbed on top of him, straddling him. Mark closed his eyes fully as he felt Dean’s lips on his, just as they had been downstairs, when they had been playing that atrociously strange kissing game.

Mark brought his hands up to Dean’s hair, lazily entwining his fingers in the blond locks as Dean moved his mouth from Mark’s lips down to his jaw, working at the buttons of the dark haired boy’s shirt, before pulling it off and discarding it on the ground.

Dean made his way down Mark’s neck, stopping to nip, and suck bruises into Mark’s skin. Mark lay beneath the boy, breathing heavily, though he couldn’t help but wonder – what if it was Wardo on top of him? What if it was Wardo kissing him, and Wardo leaving marks on his skin, and Wardo tugging his jeans down..

Mark’s eyes flew open, and he sat up quickly, his alcohol fogged brain telling him he did not want this. He didn’t want his first time to be with a stranger while he was drunk at a stupid party.

“No.. No!” Mark all but screamed, his words coming out disjointed, jumbled. Pushing an angry, disgruntled Dean off him, he stumbled from the room, leaving his jeans and shirt, but not caring. He ignored the strange looks he was receiving, He was overwhelmed, his breathing jagged, and the tears forming in his eyes threatening to spill over. Stumbling out to Wardo’s car, he wrenched the door open, sitting in the passenger’s seat and pulling his legs up to his chest, clutching them like a life line. There, he broke down, tears falling from his face, regretting the whole thing – the drinking, the game, all of it. He should’ve stayed home, stayed back at Wardo’s house, the two of them playing video games and laughing about a stupid party they hadn’t been too, because they had their own fun, just the two of them. Mark felt sick, stupid, but most of all, he felt lost. Lost without Wardo there to hold his hand, and hug him, and tell him it was okay. Mark gagged, opening the door and vomiting all over the pavement, continuing to do so for a good few minutes, before finally, there was nothing left in his stomach.

Shutting the door, Mark wiped his mouth, blinking the few remaining tears from his eyes, and grabbing a half empty water bottle, drinking it gingerly as to get the acrid taste out of his mouth. Drawing his legs to his chest once again, he held onto his legs, closing his eyes as he waited for Wardo to come out, and then take them both home. The next thing he knew, he was being gently shaken, by a concerned Wardo, who hadn’t any clue what had happened.

“Mark? Mark, what the hell happened? Where are your clothes? What are those? ..Wait, are those hickeys?” Wardo asked, now extremely worried about what happened to his best friend.

Mark merely shrugged, looking away. He just wanted to go home, get away from the party.

“Mark, seriously. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” Eduardo kept going, turning the car on and turning the heater onto high, seeing as Mark was stone cold.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” Mark said, not a trace of emotion in his voice. He sounded like a robot, programmed to say that.

“Jesus, Mark, you look like you’ve been raped! Tell me what’s going on!” Eduardo demanded, reaching out to hold his hand, but freezing when Mark flinched away from him.

“I promise, I haven’t been raped. I met a guy, that’s all. It was all consensual. Can we go now, please?” the curly haired boy replied blankly.

“Okay.. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Wardo murmured, turning the car on and driving them both home. Checking the car clock when they pulled up at Wardo’s home, he was surprised to see it was two in the morning – as always, his parents were away though, so it hardly mattered. Eduardo felt it would be best if they slept in the house tonight, for it would be both warmer, and easier for Mark.

Leading Mark gently to his room, he turned to look at him, frowning sadly. “I really hope you’re okay, Mark. Get some rest – we’re going to talk tomorrow.” he stated quietly, helping Mark climb into Eduardo’s bed – Wardo would sleep in brother’s old room, and give Mark some space. “Night, Marky.” he murmured, going to leave the room when he heard Mark reply groggily, “Wardo.. Will you stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone..”

Smiling slightly, Wardo nodded, flicking off the light and sliding into the bed next to Mark, taking hold of his hand softly. “G’night, Wardo.” Mark mumbled, falling into a restless slumber.


Over breakfast, Eduardo was the one to start the conversation that needed to be had. He and Wardo were sitting at the kitchen table, Wardo eating a piece of toast, and Mark picking at a piece of toast he didn’t want.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened to you last night?” Wardo asked, looking at Mark carefully.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened to you last night?” Mark replied, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where did you disappear too? You never came into the kitchen.”

“I was with Jen.”

With Jen?”

“We were just talking, Mark.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“Really? We only talked Mark – and as it so happens, we’re dating now. We got along great, and I asked her out. She said yes.” Wardo replied, looking away from Mark.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry for being a dick about it.” Mark said uncomfortably, feeling like an asshole, along with feeling like someone had put their hand down his throat and twisted his guts round. He couldn’t – no, wouldn’t – admit to feeling more than friendship for Wardo. He was going to forget all about it, and that was final. Now, not only was Eduardo his straight best friend – he was his straight, taken, best friend. Absolutely out of bounds, no questions asked. And it fucking sucked, really.

“It’s okay, Marky. Now, tell me.. What happened last night, hm?” Wardo frowned a little, reaching out and taking Mark’s hand, and the curly headed boy couldn’t stand it – couldn’t stand the fact that Eduardo was being so nice, and caring, and forgiving.

“I got a little.. Drunk, I suppose. I was playing spin the bottle, and then some guy kissed me, and it all happened really fast.. He asked me if I was gay, and if I wanted to go upstairs with him.. I didn’t even realize what was going on, really.. And then we went to some dark bedroom and he was kissing me and..” Mark trailed off, looking at Eduardo, who was stroking his thumb over Mark’s hand reassuringly.

“..And then I realized I didn’t want to lose my virginity to some stranger in a random bed, so I pushed him off me, and ran.” Mark shrugged, looking down. “And that’s all.” he added, nodding slowly.

“Oh, Marky.. You should’ve come and found me.. I would’ve taken you home straight away.” Wardo frowned, getting up and walking round to Mark, pulling him up into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay. You had me really scared.” he murmured into Mark’s ear, squeezing him tightly for a second before letting him go, smiling. “No more parties for us for a while, huh big guy?”

Mark nodded, smiling – and that was the moment that Mark Zuckerburg fell in love with Eduardo Saverign.


A few weeks later, the two boys were in the bed in the treehouse, Mark’s watch telling them it was 1:01 AM. Wardo was humming a song to himself, whilst texting Jen, now his girlfriend, whereas Mark was playing Snake on his phone.

“Jen’s going to sleep now.” Wardo informed Mark, snapping his phone shut.

“About time. You’ve been texting her all night.” Mark teased, though on the inside he’d been waiting for him to stop texting her for hours.

Wardo laughed, grinning apologetically. “Sorry man.”

“It’s cool. How is she, anyway?”

And so Eduardo began talking about how she was fine, though she’d had a bout of flu lately, and it was most likely brought on by the wave of it that’s spreading round the school, and how she missed dance class, and how she had to skip out on their date on Saturday to catch up with said dancing.. Mark had closed his eyes, listening to that for a while longer, before the topic changed and he joined in the conversation. Slowly, the talking died out, and they both dropped off to sleep, the bed perhaps too small for the both of them.


Mark gasped as Eduardo grinded his hips onto his, the only thing separating their raging erections the thin fabric of their boxer shorts. Mark was breathing heavily, wrapping his legs around Wardo’s waist, pulling them closer together as he began rutting his hips upwards, desperate for friction, from the very person he’d been wanting for so long.

“God, Mark, yes!” Wardo moaned, driving his hips down, fisting his hands in Mark’s hair, placing chaste kisses all over his neck.

Mark was so close, his hips moving erratically against Eduardo’s, his breath coming out as panting moans when-


Mark’s eyes flew open, sleep disorientating him, though it didn’t take him long to figure out what had happened. It was Eduardo who had yelled his name, though not in the same way he had in the dream Mark had been having – more in a, ‘what-the-fuck-you-fucking-fuck’ kind of way.

“Jesus—shit, I’m so fucking sorry man. I don’t even know what just happened, fuck, I-”

“-Mark. It’s okay. We can’t control our dreams.” Wardo interrupted him, his voice strained. Mark glanced at Wardo, his apologies already forming again, when he saw it – Eduardo’s pupils blown, lust evident in his eyes, and his arousal straining against his boxers. “So you dream about me, huh?” the straight haired boy all but growled, his voice sending waves of arousal straight to Mark’s painful hardness.

Mark gulped, wondering if he was still dreaming. “S-sometimes.” he said breathily, watching Wardo as if he would disappear in a second.

With that, Wardo let out a moan of want, moving onto Mark’s hips, pressing their lips together. It was heated, and passionate, full of want from both of them – Mark still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

Eduardo gently ran his tongue over Mark’s lips, asking for entry; Mark parted his lips – this was entirely better than kissing that Dean guy in a drunken state of whatever. This was perfect, and exactly right. Exploring each other’s mouths, Wardo knotted his hands in Mark’s hair, gently pulling away, pressing a light kiss to his best friends lips, before pulling Mark’s shirt up over his head, tossing it onto the ground. With soft, gentle hands, Eduardo traced the other boys chest, the panes of his adomen, pressing quick kisses to where his hands previously touched.

Mark let his hands trail over Wardo’s hair, down his back and to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and over Eduardo’s head, moving his fingertips lightly over the boy’s now bare back. Mark could feel Wardo’s shoulder blades beneath his hands, his skin hot and perfect. Moving his hands to the front of his body, he learnt the layout of the boy’s chest, and stomach, before resting his hands on Eduardo’s hips.

Eduardo returned his lips to Mark’s slowly rolling his hips, slightly surprised when Mark returned the thrust immediately. Grinding downwards, Wardo moaned loudly into the curly haired boys mouth, the friction wonderful although their skin was separated with flimsy material.

Mark ground his hips upwards, already so close to the edge from his dream. He felt the familiar burn in his abdomen, letting out a moan of pleasure as ecstasy rolled through his body, bucking his hips as his orgasm hit, breathing heavily as he let his hips fall, capturing Wardo’s lips in a kiss. Rolling over so he was straddling Wardo, Mark slid his hand down his best friend’s chest, stopping at the hem of his boxers and toying with the elastic waist band, aware that Eduardo was still hard. “Can I?” Mark asked, slipping a hand inside Wardo’s boxers, but not touching him till he got the okay from his friend.

“Yes-yes.” Wardo breathed, pressing his hips up into Mark’s hand, moaning. Mark moved his hand, flicking his wrist as he kept the motion steady, kissing Wardo rather sloppily as he did so.

“F-faster.. Please, Mark.” Wardo stammered, moving his hips in time with Mark’s strokes, his orgasm nearing as the pace sped up.

Mark moved his hand quickly, kissing Wardo’s neck, leaving a mark as he did so. He felt Wardo’s hips stutter, hearing the moan of pleasure escape from Euardo’s lips as the boy’s hips stilled, leaving him lying beneath Mark, panting and sated.

Mark collapsed next to him, their boxers soiled and sticky though they couldn’t care less. Looking at each other, the two smiled, their breath becoming more even.

“Thst was.. wow.” Wardo said finally, gently wrapping his arms around Mark.

“Yeah.. wow.” Mark agreed, smiling as he snuggled into Wardo’s arms. This was the happiest Mark Zuckerburg had been in a while.


The next morning, Mark woke up, feeling refreshed, having slept better than he had in a long while. Blinking away the sleepy blur, he felt his stomach drop slightly when he realized Eduardo was nowhere to be seen. On the ground was a pile of clothing, and baby wipes – obviously Wardo had put them there. Peeling of his boxers, Mark cleaned himself up, slipping into the shorts, shirt, and baggy jersey, the dread knotting up in his stomach.

Clambering out of the treehouse, Mark walked briskly into the house, his clothing comforting him slightly, due to the familiarity of it. Looking around, Wardo was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen, nor the living area – it was likely he was in his room. Sure enough, Mark quietly entered Eduardo’s room, and there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly into space.

Mark cleared his throat, waving awkwardly at his friend. “Hi.” he muttered, forcing a small smile. Perhaps, if he acted as though everything was fine, it would be.

“Hey. You’re up.” Wardo replied, turning to look at Mark, an emotion in his eyes that the curly haired boy couldn’t read.

“Yeah.. Sure am.” Mark nodded, looking around the room, as to appear as though he was doing something constructive.

“Do you want breakfast?” Wardo asked, standing up and going out into the kitchen, Mark following behind him.

“No, I’m good. Do you want to go out and get a coffee, or something?” Mark asked, looking at Eduardo imploringly. This wasn’t looking bright – though, it wasn’t looking completely bleak, either.

“Coffee? Okay. Let’s go.”

The car ride to the nearest Starbucks was silent, though perhaps not as awkward as it could’ve been. The radio was playing at a comfortable volume, the two of them humming quietly to themselves. Mark supposed it could’ve been worse, by far. At least neither of them was crying, or yelling. It was a start.

Pulling up at a spot outside of Starbucks, the two of them walked in, making small talk about the weather and what coffee they were going to get. If one was to see them from an outsiders perspective, it wouldn’t seem as though they were best friends. They ordered and received their coffees, deciding they’d walk to a nearby park and take a seat there.

“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” Mark asked timidly. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to face the consequences he knew were coming.

“Do we have too?” Wardo asked, looking slightly pained at the thought of it, which was hardly a good sign.

“I guess not. I’m sure going about the rest of our lives as if we never gave each other orgasms will work out perfectly.” Mark replied, keeping his tone neutral, light.

Eduardo shot him a look, running a hand through his hair as they came to the park, sitting down at one of the many benches. “Alright, let’s talk. What it is exactly you want me to say?”

Mark shrugged, looking slightly crestfallen. “Whatever you feel, I guess.”

Wardo sighed, resting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Mark. I should never have.. you know, done that with you. It was stupid, and all that heat of the moment stuff.. I’m with Jen. And I’m not gay, you know that.”

Mark nodded, a lump rising in his throat, despite his efforts for that not to happen. “Yeah.. I know that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking..” the curly haired boy choked out, blinking furiously. There was no way in hell he was going to cry.

“Hey, Mark, don’t get upset. I’m still your best friend.” Wardo put his arm around Mark, in what was probably supposed to be a comforting manner, though it did nothing to console him.

“Okay. Thanks for not making a big deal out of it.” Mark gave him a wan smile, the inside of his chest feeling as though it’d been ripped apart. Pretty much what Eduardo was saying was, ‘It was fun, but it meant nothing’. That was okay. Mark could, and would, find someone else. He’d move on with his life. Wardo could grow up and marry Jen and Mark could grow up and if wanted to marry someone, well he could move to a state that allowed marriage between people of the same sex. It would all work out just fine.