The Last Shot
by lafemmecasanova
Disclaimer: I do not own The Social Network.

"—Cut!"

And that was it. Seriously, it simply ended and that was the last shot. No second take, no 'okay, Andrew, look at Jesse in the eye when you say that ending line' or 'Jesse, say that second line one more time a little faster'. There were always multiple shots, always things to try differently to possibly improve a shot. I guess that would be Jesse rubbing off on me, that damn perfectionist. On the outside, I was still a stone with a look of irritation I had imagined Eduardo wearing while maintaining poise. In the inside, I felt dead.

The set wasn't dead. Oh no, it was the exact opposite, the complete and total opposite of the tumultuous conflict brewing in my stomach. Everyone was busy clapping, cheering for the final scene to be over and done with. Maybe they were too happy seeing as the crew already bolted into a fast walk to grab props whilst stuffing them in their arms like they were busy snatching money from the table. I watched as each individual piece was moved, and I could feel my hand resting on the table slowly clench into a fist of disgust. I could have convinced myself it was the leftover anger I built up to play Eduardo, but I knew damn well it wasn't; it was the fact that it was over.

Our last scene had been between Wardo, Mark, and their lawyers in the midst of the lawsuit. It was the pivotal moment where Eduardo had been explaining the story until he looks directly at Mark and tells him, "I was your only friend. You had one friend." Of course, ever since I met Jesse it had been difficult to act mad at him, even if it was just acting. Jesse didn't speak in this scene, but his face said it all. Not like it ever didn't; Jesse's one main strength was conveying words through his facial expressions flawlessly and sometimes I feverishly envied him.

Although the rest of the world was moving around us, moving on with their lives, Jesse and I remained perfectly still in our positions at the long mahogany table. His eyes, those handsome blue eyes, had never left mine. Hell, I was wondering if he had even blinked yet. Perhaps he, too, felt the same way I did about the last cut. Perhaps he, too, felt the weight on his shoulders not lessen, but only increase. It was as though that single word froze time, our time, possibly the only time we would ever work together again.

Unable to do much else, I studied as "Mark" transformed back into Jesse. I always enjoyed and often marveled at how dissimilar his facial muscles looked between the two. Over time, I grew accustomed to Jesse's mannerisms and methods. Sooner or later I ended up memorizing his entire routine when exiting a character. As the realization dawned on his arrogant face, Zuckerburg started to crumble. His cold and contemptuous eyes softened, losing their sheen we were told to loath, the one I was told to detest yet empathize. Then, his face would slowly become more and more like Jesse, but he always looked displeased, always defeated. After every scene we had ever shot together, he would always have an aura of disappointment. By now I knew it was because he wasn't happy with the way he presented Mark to the camera. Maybe his critique of himself could be his blessing and his curse. A blessing, obviously, since this sort of sealed the deal that he wouldn't become too egotistical about himself, but too many times he put his work down, his own talent. It killed me to see him beat himself up every single time a few takes were finished. Why couldn't he see his gift? He was going to go far, damn it. He was going to be recognized and praised for years to come, I could just feel it.

Yet…Jesse was his worst critic. He always had been.

No. Something else was bothering him. Usually his harsh inner beating of himself was over by now. It was always the look followed by a simple 'you could have done so much better' cringe and finally he'd be back to normal. This time, though…this time had been too long, way too long. Jesse was the kind of guy to beat himself over the head and then pretend like it never happened; he hid his inner emotions quite well from the rest of the world, but as someone who had gotten close to him throughout the film, I could tell otherwise. Something else was on his mind, I could tell by the way his eyes scanned mine erratically.

Before I could say something, he abruptly stood up and pushed the car out from underneath him. He looked unsure of his actions, for his body wobbled in hesitation, but only for a split second. Without a single world uttered, he gathered himself, turned, and took long strides around the end of the table and right past me.

Like an idiot, I sat there, totally dumbfounded, in my own little quizzical world. To be honest, it didn't even register that he wasn't sitting there anymore until I caught the scent of his clothes when he walked by. Snapping out of it, I craned my neck around and watched Jesse continue to stroll past the cameras, past the crew, and straight through the door leading outside the building. Immediately I was worried. Alright, I was always worried about him in some way, shape, or form since he was his own worst enemy, but it wasn't like him to just storm out.

"Jesse?" I quietly asked, like he could hear my whisper telepathically. Still heavy with an unknown weight on my legs, my brain yelled to get up, but I remained where I was as I watched the door settle to a close.

With a newfound strength, the weights disappeared from my legs, allowing me to scramble from my chair. At first, my legs were unsteady and I needed to push down on the table for support as I regained the feeling in the lower half of my body. Once confident I wouldn't fall flat on my face, I jogged and dodged a few crew members I nearly collided with still cleaning up from today's work. A few of them cursed under their breath, I was sure, but quite frankly I could care less. They could curse all they want as long as they didn't hold me up. Yanking open the building's door, my eyes frantically searched for the curly haired boy that left only moments before, but there was no sign of him.

Damn. Since when could Jesse walk so freaking fast?

That's when my eyes hit the head of compressed curls bouncing. From what I could see all the way back at the studio door, his hands were shoved in his pockets, his sleeves rolled up and his face downcast. Yeah, I was still pondering about why he up and left me so fast, but all my mind could focus on was how cold it was and how Jesse had left without a jacket. My body struggled for warmth against the harsh environmental conditions and I half wondered why it wasn't snowing, but I pushed the thoughts from my mind, pressed my crossed arms against my chest, and started walking after him. I made sure my steps were silent though I was pretty sure he was too far away to hear them anyway. Still, that boy could spontaneously obtain supersonic dog ears in the next forty seconds and I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised.

After following for about four blocks, I finally mustered up the courage to speak up. "Jesse?"

"Go home, Andrew," he replied abruptly enough to stop me in my tracks. I won't lie, I was fucking cold, but I knew better than to leave him like this. I couldn't leave him like this, not without knowing. Unlike me, he kept going, clearly unaffected by the cold since his head was in another dimension.

"You know I won't," I added, hoping that would convince him to stop walking.

"I know you'll go home. I suppose you didn't even leave with a proper jacket on to, you know, shelter yourself from the cold-"

"Look who's talking," I remarked playfully, though by now my teeth were practically chattering so the words came out as more of a laugh than an actual sentence. The interruption finally brought him to stop walking and pivot on his heel to face me. When I was positive he wouldn't turn back around, I began talking again. "Why'd you leave?"

"What do you mean why did I leave?"

"You left the set."

"Why would I stay?"

"Oh, I don't know, because we literally just ended."

"Technically, Andrew, we ended five minutes ago-"

"You know what I mean, Jesse."

"-and since when you were monitoring when I left and when I stayed?"

My jaw clenched, yet I refrained from barking back an insult. Jesse and I rarely fought- actually, had we ever fought before this? If he was picking fights with me like he was still Mark, then there was clearly something very, very wrong. Keeping myself in line, I decided to ignore his remark.

"You could have said goodbye."

What I hadn't expected was the pained look on his face. Before I could explain myself, he turned back around and resumed walking, adding: "Go home, Andrew. You're freezing."

"Jesse!" I called with a certain hint of desperation in my voice, but this time he didn't stop. This time, he kept on walking, and I searched for something, anything, that would stop him again. Deciding to pull the childish card, I hugged my arms tighter to my body and took a few strides forward. "I'll stand out here."

That caught his attention. Taking one more step, Jesse stopped and shook his head in what I believed to be disbelief at my course of action. Turning slowly, he cocked his head to the side. "Andrew-"

"You won't tell me what's wrong? Fine, but until you do, I'm going to stand out here."

From here I could tell his jaw was clenching, angry with how I was behaving, but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head to catch him off-guard.

"You're acting childish," he reasoned bluntly.

"I know."

"I'm serious; you are acting like a three and a half year-old, bratty, barely potty-trained, ridiculous little child."

"I know." My antics were beginning to take effect on him. It wasn't long before Jesse dropped his shoulders in defeat and, much to my happiness, took a few steps forward.

"You'll…freeze if you stay out here." Even his tone of voice softened, which only caused my heart to erratically beat in my chest. If there was nothing else to keep me warm, at least my heart was pumping some blood.

"Not really," I responded with a small shrug, though I wouldn't deny the possibility of becoming sick after this. "It's not like you're any better. If anything, you're worse off than I am. You'd catch pneumonia in seconds."

Jesse looked at me with an innocent notion of doubt on his face. "My immune system is better than yours, though."

The way he said that could have killed me, so I offered him a small smile despite the constant chatter of my teeth. "How would you know that?"

Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly closed it when he couldn't think of anything smart to say. When I thought I had one, he uttered, "I can tell by our hair."

"Did you just say by our hair?"

"Yes. My hair is springy and therefore more lifelike than yours. Your hair, on the other hand, is…" For a moment Jesse trailed off as his eyes scanned my hair for any indication of what adjectives he should use. My one eyebrow slowly rose with curiosity.

"My hair is what?"

"It's not springy. It's…thick, like a horse's mane, or a tall, like a deer."

Now both of my eyebrows rose, and my head tilted slightly backwards in bewilderment. "Are you saying I look like a deer-?"

"No!" He interjected, frustrated. Sighing heavily, he took his hands out from his pockets and started to use his hands to talk. It was a relief to see him at least act a little like himself, though he was still worrying me. "Listen, no, what I mean to say is that if you don't get inside somewhere, anywhere, you're going to freeze your ass off and probably get stuck with hypothermia or some other disease you don't want because we're going to have a ton of interviews and promotions to do once the movie is edited and I—Ugh."

Awkwardly, Jesse held his arms out in front of him and made his way over to me at the end of the sidewalk. At first, he hesitated, but eventually his hands found my shoulders. As simple as the gesture was, my breath still caught in my throat at the touch. I was a mixture of emotions, and some didn't even make sense. I felt happiness for finally getting through to him, doubt for what I was feeling, pride for what I had just accomplished back at the studio, sadness, and, most of all, fear. So, so much fear. Jesse's eyes landed on mine, locking in a stare, but something about the gaze flipped a switch inside of me. I reminded myself that tonight was the last night either of us would be dressed as Eduardo Saverin or Mark Zuckerburg. Tomorrow we would be scheduling interviews and other appearances in separate places, maybe even continents away from each other. Someone I had spent every day with for the past few months would be leaving me, maybe even for months or years or even forever, who knew? I enjoyed getting my caffeine fix in the morning with him, or having off-the-wall conversations about things normal beings didn't bother spending an hour conversing about. I wouldn't see that curly mop anymore, or hear that laugh, or even…just even…

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt a warm thumb touch my cheek and glide over it. I guess it looked sort of stupid, me being a little taller than him with his one hand reaching up to my shoulder while his other wiped away a tear escaping my eye. Finally jerking myself back into reality, I sniffed and caught the last bit of whatever Jesse was going on about.

"…Andrew? Andrew, what are you crying- no, c'mon, stop, don't cry, don't…I didn't mean to run out on you, I didn't exactly think about it. Don't cry, please?" Jesse looked so out of place as he tried to handle the situation. "If- If this about calling you a deer, I swear, you are not a dear. You're like a bison, or an antelope- No, that's not manly enough…You're a mountain lion!"

I let out a choked out chuckle at his last comment and sniffed again. My hand lifted to wipe the other cheek in embarrassment. "A mountain lion, huh?"

When I spoke, Jesse lit up and nodded. Sighing, he shoved a hand in his pocket and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His arm lightly pushed me forwards to get me to walk with him; I followed suit.

"C'mon, Andrew. Let's just go home."

Part two is coming up! Reviews & comments are appreciated! x