Aldysfool - ❝ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ 𝓯𝓸𝓸𝓵,

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

bxstvrd​:

Jonah could barely keep up with Nate, his words blurring and twisting together, all of them turning into a cacophony of nonsense, filling up the silence in the room. And… he tried to find it in him to spit and snarl, to say something so cruel and terrible that Nate would leave, but instead, he was forced to contend with the truth: he liked that Nate was here. He liked not being alone.

He picked listlessly at the waffle, instead opting to grab for the drink Nate had offered him, the familiar aroma of fresh coffee tugging him out of his shell. Hands pawed up in his sweater, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a long, revelatory sip.

Then, even he surprised himself, because there was no malice in his voice when he asked: “Why are you here?”

Not because he’d turned over a new leaf. Mostly because he couldn’t muster the strength to be mean to Nate, which was his usual method of forcing people to leave him alone. It had worked so far with Julian, that much he was certain, but it was also a lonely way to live. When all you wanted was for people to see you for who you are, and yet you kept giving them reasons not to look past the surface… who did Jonah have to blame for any of this but himself?

“We’re not friends,” he said bluntly, not for any purpose other than to root them back in the truth. “You don’t owe me anything. So… why are do you care?”

nate is halfway through his waffle already, because his sweet tooth is something fierce in the morning, when he hears jonah’s question. it’s something about jonah’s candor that nate appreciates; if people walked around and just said what they felt more often, then maybe shit wouldn’t be so weird all the time ─ especially in this department. but nate can tell something is kicking jonah’s ass, and he can’t just leave him like this without having something to say about it. because he’s been there. 

although nate hasn’t completely finished chewing, he shrugs in response, “mmuhm? t’ me tha souns li’ th perf-uh pers tuh ta to*.” nate gives him a thumbs-up and a closed-mouth smile before swallowing. and then he collects his thoughts. 

“so, those are good questions, but secretly i don’t think you care about what my answer is either way. maybe sometimes a bro just wants to share a waffle with another bro. even if said bro doesn’t want the other bro to be there,” nate shakes his head and pulls out a banana from his bag. “besides, the same reason why i’m here is the same reason why you were there for me years ago.” 

he goes to take another bite of his waffle before he offers his banana to jonah. “you want some potassium?”

📱

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

the palmer boys. (and yes, this is the ringtone.)

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

i think nate probably wishes jason wasn’t so serious allllll the time, but he’s happy to hear from him either way.

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

not gonna lie, nate might not respond as quickly because he’s trying to think of the best answer to come up with? 

How often our muses text:

before orson’s death, i think they spent a good amount of time w/ each other so there weren’t many texts exchanged. now, i think there’s some distance between them (so more texting is involved). and a good chunk of it is probably family related.

How often our muses call:

nate loves a video chat and he calls jason ALL the time when he can. i wanna say that he prefers that to texting because he can never get a good read on jason’s mood via texts. so he has to see his lil’ face.

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

before orson’s death, absolutely. things were fine. they were fine. there was no real reason to call him back, right? but these days, that’s definitely not the case. nate doesn’t know what jason might be calling him about. he answers before the first ring is done.

Last text(s) sent from my muse to yours:

[ sent, 8:48 p.m. ] : going on a donut run, wanna join? gotta feed the ladies and then heading that way.

[ sent, 8:49 p.m. ] : also yes, i’m still feeding those cats behind the FAB. they’re important to me, ok? trust me on this.

[ sent, 8:56 p.m. ] : omg pick up ur phone - there’s too many of them back here!!!! i’m trapped & scared!!!!!!!! SOS

[ sent, 10:00 a.m. ] : hey, this is ur weekly reminder that i love u very much, kiddo. i know i don’t say it all the time, but i’m proud of u. seriously. also, call mom back.

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.”

.

where: the castle; when: post-shit show that was act V, scene iii, in the wee hours of the morn.; who: @pvlmer​

watching act V, scene iii was a surreal experience — one minute he was wrapped up in teddy’s performance as romeo, waiting for that sweet final line before The Death, and the next — “murderer!” ripped into the room and nate felt his heart drop into his ass. he had wanted a lot of things in that moment, but his first thought was to get to jason. between all the commotion and the general consensus amongst his peers to get the fuck out of there no matter what, not long after, nate finds himself outside of jason’s room, knocking as hard as he can. rhythmically, though.

while it hadn’t been very long since they had scrambled off, nate had this feeling that if he didn’t talk to jason soon, it would be too late. too late for what, he didn’t know — but the words “orson is dead because of all of you” kept ringing in his head. while nate doesn’t feel so guilty about the part he played in orson’s death, that doesn’t help him feel any better about everyone else; especially jason. the images replay: orson’s body, the blood, the watch, the red and blue lights — nate was spooked. and if was thinking clearly, he would’ve caught up to jason the second they left instead of losing him in the rush of it all. but with five texts and two calls which each ended in incoherent gibberish on nate’s part, he was sure jason got the hint  — things were urgent. so there nate is, knocking even harder. ....wait, did jason even tell him that he was back in his room?

“shit!” nate pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his recent call list. he calls jason again, because the thought of his brother getting cornered by some pissed off liberal arts majors is enough to send nate’s anxiety skyrocketing into the stratosphere. “pick up the phone, dammit. pick up the phone.” 

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.”

pvlmer​:

the entire debacle that happened during the masque had jason a little shaken. of course, he knew he wasn’t a murderer. he didn’t actually kill orson and he didn’t even know who did. but he did know that what the mysterious person said had some truth to it. jason could’ve saved orson and he didn’t. whether that was the right or wrong decision was something that jason was still trying to figure out. of course, it was morally wrong to deny someone help when they’re begging for their life. but is it morally wrong if that person is a dick? the jury (jason) was still out on that one. 

it was a question that kept jason up at night. and specifically, it was the question that was keeping him up tonight. after the events, he fled to his room, wanting to be as far away from the refectory as possible. it was like the person screaming murderer was his own conscience, which just freaked him out a little too much. he was in his own world once he got back into his room, despite his roommate being there. it was like he was alone because everything just faded and he was left with just his thoughts. his mind started to wander and worry. not just about the night where he left orson for dead, but the other members of the program. as much as he felt like he didn’t belong with them, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of anxiety over whether they were okay or not. the anxiety was the worst when it came to his brother. as much as people talked about how theater kids became family, nate was his family.

just as he was thinking about nate, he heard a knocking on his door. he yawned. it was some ungodly hour in the morning, but god knows that jason didn’t sleep at all so it wasn’t like he was getting woken up. he stumbled towards the door, his movements slow and jagged as he was starting to have a migraine from the lack of sleep. he opened up the door to see nate and without thinking, jason pulls his brother in for a hug. “hey, are you okay?” he asks when he lets go of the embrace.

the door opens, and nate drops his phone in the process of hugging jason, because his brother is okay and that is enough to extinguish any fear in nate’s mind. when they hug, nate suddenly feels very stupid, because of course nothing bad has happened (yet), but he also realizes it’s kinda fucked up how triggered he was by the events from the ball. but the hug helps. the hug is warm and familiar and it’s exactly what nate needs right now. as they separate, nate starts to feel a little dejected, but jason asks him a question and he pulls himself out of it so quickly, it’s hardly noticeable.

“am i okay? uh, i don’t know jason, let’s see: pretty sure i sprained my ankle during the fight scene earlier, was accused of murdering our old director, went back to my room and realized i’m almost of happy pills which also stressed me out because my dealer says they won’t be back until next week, then i tried calling and texting you fifty million times; speaking of which, where the fuck is my—”, nate looks down and picks his phone off the floor, shoving it in his pocket. there’s another crack in the screen’s spider web and the battery life is at 3%, but what’s life without a lil’ danger? nate takes a breath. he can feel himself getting worked up and it’s too late (or early, technically) to take any more drugs. he sticks to a strict schedule.

“the point is, sweet brother o’ mine, i’m not doin’ so hot, but we gotta talk. like, now.” nate’s stomach grumbles, and he huffs. “also, i could really use a grilled cheese.”

bxstvrd​:

DATE & TIME: around twilight….u know for the Ambiance LOCATION:Outside the FAB AVAILABILITY: Taken @aldysfool​

Jonah hated rehearsals with everything in him this semester. Hated being relegated to the background, hated watching other people twirl through the spotlight, hated that he would never again feel the golden hue grace his face at Alderidge. He’d snuck out early for a smoke, knowing that he wouldn’t be in anymore scenes, but he turned, surprised, when he heard the doors of the FAB swing open behind him, feeling a certain awkwardness when he realized it was Nate coming out to break his solitude. Because living with Nate, he could avoid him easily, had mastered the art of hiding in plain sight from both of his roommates, but out here, in the open, he couldn’t avoid him… and he was even more surprised to find he didn’t want to.

There was a surprising amount of discomfort when his desire to stay brushed up against his instinct to run, and it made Jonah irritable when he didn’t want to be. He caught himself, thankfully, before he lashed out and said something he didn’t mean, but he did say, brusquely, without looking at Nate, “I hope you didn’t come out here because of me. I was fine before, and I’ll keep being fine after you’re gone, so… there’s no need to check on me. And if you didn’t follow me out here, well, great, but there’s plenty of space that you can occupy that’s not also in my space. So.”

.

rehearsal nate is a different kind of nate; less partying, less recreational drug usage, less deviant behavior. except on the weekends. and yeah, macbeth is fun and he’s actually not hating rehearsal. even being onstage with grace isn’t the total soul sucker it used to be when orson was around. heidi felt different as a director, and nate appreciated her willingness to play along with his antics — to some degree, at least. there came a point in rehearsal when he wouldn’t be needed for a while, and while nate normally loved to sit in the back of the rehearsal space and doodle in his script while watching his fellow thespians work on stage, his phone buzzes and he doesn’t even look at it to know what time it is. he grabs his backpack and heads towards the doors. 

when he opens them and sees jonah, nate smiles for only a moment before it’s replaced by a raised eyebrow. the moodiness on this one. nate rolls his eyes, “somebody’s in a good mood. ...anyway, you don’t own the sidewalk and secretly we both know you enjoy my company, so there’s that. now if you’ll excuse me,” he looks around, “i have a date.” the lights around the FAB aren’t bright enough to completely illuminate the surrounding grounds, but nate is sure that he’ll find what he’s looking for if he stands here long enough. 

“quick, random question: you allergic to small, furry animals?”