Pvlmer​:

if you could trade places with any of the fourth years, who would it be?

“ugh, this is so hard, but lemme just say that i thought a lot about who’d i want to take my place because i could trade places with any of these theatre nerds and have a fuckin’ ball. but who would really benefit from having mine? and that’s how i landed on my pride and joy, jason palmer. is this cheating because he’s my brother? i don’t care. i would want him to just let loose if we traded places; i’ve already done an alphabet’s worth of drugs and broken some laws; like, there isn’t much he could do that would surprise me. i just feel like he’s holding back on me all the time, and...honestly, i feel guilty about that. a lot. especially because i know i wouldn’t be here without him.”

a pause.

“ha. but yeah, if we got caught up in some freaky friday shit, i would totally facebook stalk our old classmates and tell some people off, tell hudson and helen i’m in love with them both to (hopefully) start some drama, audition for the lead role in our last production just to prove a point, call up mom and pops to announce i’m cutting them off and moving to France after graduation, and then snoop in mathias’ room to find evidence that he definitely killed orson so that i wouldn’t have to worry about the watch anymore.”

@pvlmer

bxstvrd​:

Jonah’s eyes flickered to Nate, and he looked at his roommate, really looked at his roommate, for what felt like the first time. When he thought of Nate, he thought of lightness and air, of loud bravado and effortless friendliness. He almost wanted to fight Nate, wanted to argue with him and insist, no, you’ve never felt like this, no, there’s no way you know what this is like, and yet, he found himself believing Nate completely, without a shadow of a doubt.

It was… surprising, to say the least. That perhaps the feeling in his chest, of waves threatening to overwhelm him, of that not-so-gentle hum of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, maybe he didn’t have to explain them to Nate. Maybe Nate knew already.

“How do you… let them?” he asked, quiet, sincere. Because this, this was the hardest part for him. Somehow, he’d managed to convince two people, Helen and Harry, that he wasn’t just this shitty black hole that consumed and consumed and never gave anything back, and they were there. They wanted to help, and Jonah could not, for the life of him, figure out how to let them.

He wanted to be saved. He wanted to be saved so badly it was killing him. And then, the words were leaving his lips before he could stop them, pure terror infused into every breath, because this was his greatest fear, and he didn’t know why he was asking Nate, didn’t know how he’d allowed himself to trust in less than thirty seconds, but here he was, spilling over and spilling out, and god he just hoped Nate would understand. “What if I let them… what if they try to save me and they can’t? What if every good thing about me has rotted away and when they try to peel back all the bad and find what’s left, there’s just… nothing? What then?”

Jonah had lost his appetite completely, the banana set aside and forgotten. There was no humor that was going to penetrate this, now that Nate had dredged it all up to the surface, like pulling some great shipwreck up from the bottom of the ocean. He was the wreck, and he was somehow also the storm.

“Don’t give me the same bullshit everyone else does,” he said sharply. “The whole everyone can be saved, nobody is too broken crap. Because there are people who are just… born wrong. There are people where no matter how hard you try to be good, it doesn’t take. What are those people supposed to do?” What am I supposed to do?

.

nate hears jonah, and he can’t help but hear the voice of someone who’s clearly wrestling with a lot of heartache and unresolved trauma. while nate’s first instinct is to make jokes or run away from most (emotional) situations, he chooses to sit in it this time. and it’s hard, because it reminds him of some dark places he pulled himself out from. places he wanted to forget about. nate tries to remember that there isn’t any shame in that  — in fact, there’s a pride he can take in looking back at all the things he’s been through. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that cheesy shit.

but nate doesn’t say any of that, because again, jonah isn’t in the space to hear it; in this moment when his roommate is being his most vulnerable, nate wants to help him however he can. not because it’s a good thing to do. because he wants to. even if it might not be what jonah wants to hear.

“now, you’re smart enough to know that life isn’t that cut and dry. it’d be boring if it was. there isn’t just good and bad in the world — this shit is complicated and messy and...sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s worth the trouble.” nate moves to sit at the edge of jonah’s bed and faces him. it was time they got on the same level. “but let’s say you’re right. let’s say...there are some people who are born wrong and have no chance of being ‘saved’, whatever that means. why, then, consider the possibility of opening yourself up to being rescued? that’s some self-fulfilling prophecy bullshit that i don’t agree with. holding the people you love to unrealistic expectations is the quickest way to fuck things for them and for yourself. but if you were honest, you’d admit that you don’t want to push them out. because you hope, at some point, that their kindness will rub off on you.” 

nate sighs, because he realizes he’s gone deeper than he’d like on a post-breakfast conversation, but it’s too late to turn back now. at least they’re talking. “jonah, i’ve been where you are. hell, depending on the day, i’ve been a skip away from spending all day in the bed myself. but expecting to be ‘saved’ is not the answer. you know who needs saving? kittens in trees. princesses in fairy tales. babies, like literally all the time.” nate leans forward as if he’s telling jonah as secret.

“unfortunately, you and i are none of those things. there is no saving us, because life just doesn’t happen to us. we have the means to change things, to work towards something different for ourselves. and guess what? sometimes, we gotta get down and just fight for it. so do yourself a favor, do those people who love you a favor, and fucking fight for y-ourself, man.” his voice cracks for a second, but he doesn’t care.

it’s then that nate realizes his eyes are wet. he wipes them dry with the back of his hands. 

“....shit.”

.

bxstvrd​:

DATE & TIME: Monday morning, week of auditions LOCATION: J²’s room AVAILABILITY: Taken @aldysfool​

Jonah was already thirty minutes late to his first class of the day, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d woken up with a weight on his chest that wouldn’t move, a panic in his heart that left him debilitated, immobile. Mustering the strength to get out of bed seemed impossible, and he’d lay there, silent, pretending to be asleep, as Julian had got ready and left for the day, had tried not to notice the way his roommate had been hovering, as if questioning whether to wake Jonah up so he wouldn’t be late.

He made the right choice and left. Which meant Jonah was alone.

Numbly, through the fog of his mind, he recognized that he should call Harry. If he called Helen, he’d have to explain why he was like this, and he just… he couldn’t do it. But even reaching over to grab his phone seemed impossible, so he just lay there, festering like a wound, curled in on himself, trying to minimize the damage. When he was left alone, like this, painfully aware of his own existence, all he could think of was Orson, which turned into William, which turned into Des – all of the father figures who failed him, or maybe he failed them, and maybe every single one of them was right: there was nothing wrong with the world. There was something wrong with him.

And just like that, tears were welling in his eyes, staining his pillow. He curled in tighter, wrapping his arms around his knees, muffling the quiet hitches of his breath, not hearing the sound of the door of his dorm opening over the weight of his own agony.

contrary to what most people would assume, nate loved mornings. so much so, that he often just stayed awake to watch the sun rise; it’s a beautiful sight that always manages to bring him some comfort. had he always been this prone to insomnia? nah. was it something that had developed over the past couple of months? nope. would he admit it was getting worse every day? of course not. this morning was just like every other morning he’d had the previous week, except he was basically running off of caffeine fumes and a sugar rush, because mondays fucking sucked, but nate was not going to let the gloom of another week take the reigns of his morning. he couldn’t afford it.

so nate decides to spread the love with breakfast food, because hey, it’s his favorite meal of the day and not one student in the history of alderidge can deny the impressive spread the refectory boasts each morning. balancing two containers of waffles, a sack of fruit, and a drink carrier, nate tumbles through the dorm: “good day, my fellow thespians! let us gather and be merry and...talk shit, or whatever!” it doesn’t take him long to realize that no one’s listening, and for a moment, he’s a little bummed that j&j are nowhere to be found. nate checks for julian — nope. so he turns his attention to jonah. nate almost reconsiders checking on him, but he calls out anyway, “jonah, you up? i’ve brought sustenance." nate doesn’t hear a response, so he shrugs and sits the bags down before he drops all of it. nate knows he’s there, but tries to rationalize that maybe he doesn’t want to be bothered. ...but then it starts to bug him, so nate tries again. he needs to hear some kind of response, or else his mind will start to jump to wildly ridiculous conclusions.

“...i didn’t bring any burnt toast this time, so that’s a plus. right?”

ofhelens​:

Matching Nate’s light tone with her own japes (or at least, passable attempt at a joke - humour was never something that came easily), Helen’s expression wrinkled into an easy smile. “All those heretical dances in the woods? Or is that too The Crucible for Shakespeare?” She thought about telling him how the notion of running away felt appealing to her sometimes too - how dancing barefoot under moonlight felt like solace. Was it fear or bravery that kept her anchored? “Me…neither. I hope Heidi knows what she’s doing - I’m not sure she does…maybe I should offer to swap with someone? Like Jonah?”

.

nate laughs and makes a mental note about asking heidi her particular thoughts concerning the witches. suddenly, the idea of dancing barefoot onstage along with saffi and grace is hilarious, and he definitely wants it to happen. “oh please, i’m sure willy would’ve loved the crucible. fear, lies, hysteria, and witchcraft are the exact words i’d use to describe the scottish play, y’know? a match made in...purgatory? hell?” nate shakes his head at her response, “helen, it’s literally going to be fine. try not to worry so much about it. i’ll keep you entertained from the wings when you’re onstage, or whatever, until you’re comfortable. it’s our last show. we’ve gotta give it our best shot.” nate smiles at her, but hearing jonah’s name makes him a little anxious, so he backs up for as second. 

“but uh, speaking of jonah....have you talked to him lately?”

.

hudscnwilliams​:

hudson’s first love in life was reading. it was his safe haven, the thing he turned to when the rest of the world didn’t make any sense to him. books were an escape - and right now, that’s just what he needed. he was thrilled to be macbeth, of course, but he was still a bit stuck in his own head over jonah’s words. he knew he needed to let them go; they were the petty words of a jealous asshole who just wanted to make him miserable. and by being upset, hudson was letting jonah win. still, he needed some time to clear his head, and the best place to do that was the library. as he entered the room, he paused as books began falling all around nate. “shit,” he murmured, leaping to action and picking a few up off the ground. “you sure? that looked pretty rough.” hudson winced, putting a book back on the shelf. he wasn’t entirely sure how to act around nate these days; things were a bit strained. 

.

nate hears hudson before he sees him, and in this moment, he kinda wishes it was someone else who was there to witness his clumsiness. there were no hard feelings on nate’s part when it came to hudson, but yeah, they hadn’t been the closest of friends in a while. and for once, nate didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. instead, he did what he was always good at, which was redirecting. “seriously, i’m fine. but for you,” nate stands up to curtsy in hudson’s direction, “hail to thee, thane of glamis. a congratulations are in order.” nate puts the rest of the books back except for one and offers his most genuine smile, “you’re gonna kill it, obviously.” nate moves to a nearby table where he’s set up, a small stack of books already there, each focused on the supernatural world. nate glances at hudson. “have you had a chance to celebrate yet?” as long as they kept the conversation light, this would be easy. right? 

.

ofmadsle​:

It seems like Nate and her had the same idea, though she didn’t expect to find anyone outside yet. She needed a moment, a breather to herself. So much happened before the break, with Orson’s verbal take down against her to his damned death, who knows what happened in between? She wasn’t sure how she could show her face, when she was sure every anxiety she felt was written all over it. Mads supposes she should be grateful that the ball was a masquerade after all. 

Still, she’s glad to find Nate, though she supposes she’s caught him in a private moment. There’s an urge to make a joke- is that the original Augustus Waters monologue?- but she holds her wit in for once. Instead, she makes her step a bit louder, hoping he’d hear her so she wasn’t catching him completely off guard. She racks her brain, wondering what comes next, but all she could remember was Romeo’s next line. Clearly, she wasn’t the Friar. “Good morrow, father.” She smiles softly, grateful for a friendly face. 

seeing mads always lifts nate’s spirits, so it’s easy for him to smile back at her and respond so easily, “benedicite.” to be honest, he probably could’ve done that whole scene by heart — there was something about ro & jules that just got to him. nate welcomes her company with open arms, because in situations like these, two was always better than one. it’s hard to be left alone with his thoughts for long periods of time. with mads there, nate manages to forget about the detectives, orson, and the long night ahead of them, if only temporarily.

— ✶

“come on mads, you know we’re basically two-thirds of the weird sisters in the living flesh. think about it: we strut onstage with our sexy beards, our couplet rhyming, and our — arguably — wicked ways, and then vanish before the real tragic shit goes down. it’s a no-brainer.” it’s a few days later after all the events from the masque ball and heidi’s announcement of their final play, and nate is, for lack of a better phrase, fucking thrilled. on this particular afternoon he has made plans to hang out with mads, and unfortunately for her, he hasn’t shut up yet.

“so, what do you think — do you love it? do you hate it? are you gonna kick my ass right now?”

me on the surface: who trying to get smoked OUT

me on the inside: these vices are a temporary substitute for the feeling of contentment I so dearly long for

me deeeeeeeper on the inside: im trying get SMOKED OUT BOOYYYYYYYY

what was your first thought when you saw orson was dead?

“thoughts couldn’t evolve into words, just emotion. i was horrified, because i hadn’t ever seen that much blood before. (by the way, zero out of ten; would not recommend.) then there was fear, of what happened to him and if there was some fuckin’ murderer just strolling about campus; confusion, because i found something that put jason at the crime scene and that didn’t make any sense to me at all because he’s my brother and he wouldn’t do something like this or surely he’d at least he’d tell me; anger was up next, at myself and then towards orson. wanna know something? i didn’t call the police right away. seriously debated it, actually. and as fucked up as it sounds, i got a slice of joy out of all of that. the puppet strings had been severed.”

harryzhangs​:

harry chuckles in agreement to his comment about the food. she knows nate doesn’t owe her an answer, but she has to admit she’s curious as to how the rest of her peers are doing tonight. over the years she’s discovered that people seem comfortable confiding things in her, and her time at alderidge has been no exception. harry doesn’t mind it, though– on the contrary, it’s really one of the only methods she has of feeling close to people. she nods sympathetically when nate continues; if there’s one thing she understands right now, it’s not liking the presence of those detectives inside the refectory. of course, his phrasing makes harry curious… nate was the one to find orson’s body, but she still wonders if there’s anything else he could be hiding about that whole night, like she is. she wonders about it constantly, truth be told. not just in regards to nate, but to all of them. harry might not know exactly what happened, but she’s damn sure she and jonah aren’t the only ones with secrets.

“i get that,” harry agrees before taking another drag from nate’s joint. with this one, she starts to feel it a bit, a nice calm spreading over her that only weed could ever cause. “it’s hard to move forward with all these reminders of what happened. especially when we don’t know what they’re looking for, or… who they might suspect, you know?” she shivers before passing the joint back to nate.

he misses his therapist. she always had a good way of giving clarity to nate’s thoughts and challenging him to think deeper, as any professional should do. while the fear of what certain truths would come up has kept him away recently, nate thinks back to many of their conversations and tries to remember any piece of actual therapy he got from those sessions. because maybe, he’d stop feeling like he was going crazy. maybe he’d be able to get the image of orson’s dead body out of his head. maybe he’d be able to face whatever the fuck was going on with jason. 

and that’s exactly who he’s thinking about when harry mentions the detectives and potential suspects. nate hopes he isn’t wearing it all on his face and lowers his head as he brings the joint back to his lips. two long puffs and the joint is barely hanging on at this point. he shrugs, “yeah, things like this make it really hard to move on. and that’s all i wanna do at this point. ...for my sake but mostly for jason’s — i mean, everybody’s sake, y’know,” nate panics a little, so he stands up and knocks the ash against the railing. nate slides his suit jacket off and offers it to harry. “i should probably get back inside and keep the party going. i started a petition to play firework over the sound system, so...gotta check on that progress.”

ofhelens​:

Class is easy. Helen can do class. She can sit there, colour in her entire copy of MacBeth in pink highlighter and pretend that the world makes sense. That she was supposed to end up with this role. That Jonah was meant to be slighted. That Josie was supposed to play a minor role. (I mean Josie, really?!). Snapped out of her headspace by Nate, she smiles and nods softly. “Sorry, a thousand miles away. Just…thinking about MacBeth. Congrats - by the way. If anyone was going to curse me, I’d want it to be you.” Turning to address his actual question, she slides out a piece of loose paper. “Here - feel free to take these away. Better you fall asleep in Nicole than Sebastian’s class.”

nate bows at helen, making a dramatic show of accepting her notes. “i don’t know what it is, but i’ve just been so tired lately. and thanks - honestly, i think this show is gonna help me reach my final form; i’ll retire to the woods after graduation and start a coven, maybe.” nate grins and motions to her, “but no, an official congratulations are in order to you! i’m sure you never really saw ‘Scottish gentleman’ in your future, but here you are about deliver the best Ross I’ve ever seen, methinks. what say you, m’lady?” he slides the paper into his bag before he turns to helen, moving to leave class alongside her.