Where: the Anchor; When: The Night After The Cast Read-through; Who: @teddynewell​.

*gets caught pickpocketing cos i keep saying ‘yoink’ outloud when i do it*

pvlmer​:

the mood feels weird to jason. even as someone who’s normally adaptable in most situations, he can’t help but feel a little uneasy. and he can’t quite put his finger on it. he figures it was because of nate’s mood shift, that’s what’s putting him off. hes’ so used to seeing his brother crack jokes and be the life of the party, but this mood on him was seldom something jason saw. he wonders if it’s a mood that nate keeps hidden from others, kind of like how jason keeps parts of himself hidden to certain people. jason tries to focus on the lake, rather than how creepy everything is. he remembers his therapist telling him focusing on one thing can help alleviate anxiety. he’s not sure if it’s working or not. he hears what nate says. so he settles on: not. 

“i only told them stuff i thought was relevant to the case. i mostly told them that i didn’t think anyone here is capable of something like that but they kind of pressed me so i did say someone’s name but it was more like just a theory, you know?” a couple moments pass before what nate had said really sunk in for jason. he was mostly talking about the police investigation and didn’t even register that nate had said he was trying to keep the cops from suspecting jason. “wait…why would you want to keep them from looking in my direction?” he gulps. because deep down, he knows the answer. but he can’t tell nate what happened that night. how he laughed in the face of orson as he bled out, how he liked seeing him suffer. the guilt of his actions and of keeping this from nate have been heavy on jason, but not as heavy as knowing that his brother would never look at him the same again. “nate, i…don’t know what you’re talking about.” his voice was unconvincing to even an ordinary person, so it certainly wouldn’t be enough to convince his brother. but he couldn’t, he couldn’t let nate see that side of him. the side that got lost in the shadows and became the darkness within them. 

.

nate winces at jason’s words. for so long, he had tried to be the best brother - or at least, the best brother he knew how to be. in their household, nate had learned specific lessons about patience, kindness, and empathy. all of which he never had to really use with jason, because things had been easy for them for a long time. now in hindsight, while trying to analyze his brother, nate felt that familiar pang of guilt he always managed to push down. had things only been easy because nate didn’t try to work on their relationship? how much was there that they hadn’t talked about, simply because they didn’t think it was necessary? had nate pushed jason away, somehow? the answers to those questions were hard to think about. 

but he couldn’t let jason shut down on him this time; the stakes were too high. “who’s name did you say? is that so much of a secret you can’t even tell me?” nate looks out past jason, out towards the rest of the campus through the thick of the trees. he thinks about the police, about the investigation, about orson’s body and - “jason...i love you, okay? i’d gladly give you a kidney, a lung, a part of my pancreas - if they were healthy, that is.” nate steps closer to him, “my point is that i’d do just about anything for you. but i need you to trust me.” nate knows he’s handled jason with kid gloves practically their whole life, so this feels especially weird for them, but he has to see this through. no matter what the answer might turn out to be.

“tell me the truth”, nate signs with a mixture of nostalgia for their ‘secret’ language as kids and fear of what jason might actually reveal to him. “did you kill o-r-s-o-n?”

pvlmer​:

jason had been on edge recently. usually when he was on edge, it wouldn’t show. he had gotten pretty good at hiding his frustrations. but between the masque ball and the police interrogation, he thought the mask that he wore might be beginning to crack. and he never really felt comfortable showing anyone else what was beneath it. most people already thought so lowly of him or not at all, if they saw him without his mask, he couldn’t imagine what they would think. he got a little nervous when nate called him to talk, he was worried something had gone wrong. his brother’s tone was less jovial and humorous than usual, so he knew something had to be up. he walked towards the lake where he saw nate and gave him a nod as he watched him skip stones. “it’s all in the flick of the wrist,” jason said in a small voice. “so uh…what’s up? why did you want to meet? here of all places?”

.

nate only catches a piece of jason’s suggestion, but he picks up one more stone and throws it anyway. it skips a few times, and then submerges. nate turns to face jason, aware of how sketchy he’s being. hell, how sketchy he felt. thinking back, nate couldn’t remember too often that they fought or had any bad blow ups like other siblings he knew. and honestly, nate could never tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. he looks around and shrugs, “i don’t know, i guess i came out here to think for a while, but then i realized you and i needed to talk about all of this...shit. honestly, that statement from the police has been freaking me out. i don’t know what you told them, but i basically ran off at the mouth about orson and what i knew about the drugs. and about chandler. whatever i knew to keep them from looking in my direction. ...in your direction.” nate looks at jason, and really can’t help but feel a little hurt that his own brother didn’t feel comfortable enough to share his mistakes. his trauma. his guilt. but somebody needed to make the first step.

“listen, it’s about time we talked about the night orson died.” 

ofhelens​:

Matching his smile with one of her own, Helen laughs gently. “Hell, for sure. I have a feeling that Abigail Williams would have fit snugly in one of Shakespeare’s plays.” Probably played by Zahra. If Orson had his way. If Heidi was casting - who knew? The uncertainty of Alderidge, which had always been such a constant, made her anxious. Nudging gently into him, she nodded in thanks. “I don’t deserve you.”  She wasn’t sure any of them deserved Nate. Had she followed that thought through to its completion, she might have felt guilt that they were the one forced to witness her witchcraft…but as it was, she dropped it; distracted by the mention of Jonah. “No?” Puzzled, she knotted her eyebrows. “Did he…did he do something?”

it was one thing to banter with helen about heidi or the play, but then just like that, nate decides to switch up the conversation on her - a part of him wondered if it was the right time. but when would this opportunity come up again? he raises an eyebrow for a moment at helen’s response  - did jonah do something? well, damn. it’s not like it’s any of his business, but in nate’s experience, that kind of question only came from someone who, even in the slightest way, had already assumed he was guilty. it was a nicer way of saying ‘what did you do?’ and - shit, now he’s definitely reading too much into it. nate shakes his head, “nah, he didn’t do anything. it’s just the week of auditions he had a really...rough morning, and i might’ve cried and tried stuffing his face with waffles, and i was just curious if you had heard from him. that’s all.” nate shrugs and then tries to offer helen another smile to diffuse any of her worries. “even though we live together, i feel like we’ve been like two ships passing in the night.”

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.”

.

the most honest day(s) of them all! 

let’s get weird.

texts | palmer bros.

jason: for once i'm actually feeling kind of okay about my casting

jason: what about you? are you excited to play a witch?

nate: whew, i'm glad u feel that way!

nate: i was def ready to raise hell if you weren't cool w/ it. it's our last show, y'know? we should get what we DESERVE. but then again, i look at ppl like mathias & josie and i'm like .....yikes

nate: um HELL YEAH i am!! a crone who casts spells & cackles at people's misfortunes is in my top 5 other lives i'd like to live. you know this

cause of death: boredom 

harryzhangs​:

location: campus, morning after cast list reveal closed to @aldysfool​

“nate?” harry calls out, squinting toward the figure walking toward the FAB just ahead of her. she power-walks a bit to catch up to him, figuring if they both have to be up this early to go to class, they might as well go together. “by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. wait, shit, is it even the first witch who says that?”

nate is strolling along towards the FAB, trying to decide if he wants to ditch class this morning when he hears his name being called. he grins at harry, but his mind blanks on the line, “oh fuck, i don’t actually know! damn, you found me out. i’m a bad actor.” nate slows his pace, ”but hey, good gentlewoman slash donalbain slash siward, congrats to you! how do you feel?”