A/N: NEED A BUCKET FOR MY CREYS. Just saw this movie like an hour ago and ohmygod.

It's way too easy to fall when you're at the top. Mark blames it on Erica Albright.

Erica Albright is a bitch. Erica Albright ruined everything. If Erica fucking Albright hadn't broken up with him, he wouldn't have been so desperate to prove her wrong, he would still have his friend (only friend, I was your only friend).

He blames Erica Albright, because it's easier to blame her.

Eduardo smiles at him from across cyberspace. It's a picture; they're at some party from however the fuck long ago it was, and he's just sort of smiling. A little. He looks so sad that it hurts. How do you look sad while smiling?

The internet is an easy mask. It's so much easier to click a few buttons than to go right up to your only friend with your tail between your legs and 7% of the shares. And Mark functions better on the internet.

So he sends a request. He folds his arms, stubbornly staring down the computer screen.

He presses f5 to see if it's changed. And it wasn't.

It's stupid. He's stupid. He's smart but he's not, all the same, all the same. Maybe he should blame Sean fucking Parker.

He'll blame anyone but himself.

F5. And he waits. And he waits.


"Yeah, I'm almost finished up here." F5. He waits, and he waits, and he waits. He'll keep refreshing until it changes.

Half past midnight and he checks to see if it changed.

It wasn't.

It wasn't.

And it wasn't.