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The theater is abuzz with a bustle characteristic of the first dress rehearsal, as all the techies scramble to make sure everything is in place. From the booth, Pearl hears Mumbo and Skizz frantically calling to each other, programming and adjusting some last minute light cues. Lizzie rushes past, a costume rack that should really be moved by two people careening dangerously behind her, muttering something under her breath about Etho’s costume. Pearl can’t see her, but Gem’s voice carries down from the catwalk, calling to Skizz and Mumbo as they adjust the light fixtures. In the hallway, Grian and Ren are doing vocal warmups like the weirdo theater kids that they are, and Jimmy and Tango are running lines together. Scar emerges from the dressing room, calling to Lizzie to have her look at his costume and asking, for the millionth time, if she’s sure he can’t have a hat.
Pearl moves past all this, the footsteps of her friends drumming a cacophonic rhythm against the tile floors as she pushes open the door to one of the dressing rooms and the four of them file inside. Without preamble, they flop onto the beanbag in the corner, greedily repurposed from an old show. Pearl takes the first spot, and Scott immediately cuddles up next to her, swinging his legs over her lap. Cleo snorts at their affectionate display but nonetheless sits down beside them, slinging an arm over the two of them and dragging Martyn down with her. Eventually, once they’ve all tangled themselves up in a puddle, unable to tell where one person starts and another begins, Scott passes Cleo his script.
“Read on-book for us?” he pleads, though it’s hardly a question. “I wanna go through the last scene again.” Cleo huffs but takes the script, removing their hand from Martyn’s hair to flip to the right page. Martyn, who is playing Tetris with eyes half-focused as he taps away at the screen, lets out a small whine at the loss of contact.
“Oh, shut up, you big baby,” Cleo grumbles. Scott snickers at Martyn’s plight, and Pearl, grinning, flicks him on the nose. Martyn grumbles again, but otherwise ignores them.
“Okay, so going from when you two reconvene after Martyn and I die… Scott, you have the first line, it’s just ‘Pearl,’” Cleo instructs.
“Okay. Okay.” Scott takes a breath, something in his tone and expression changing as he drops into character. “Pearl.”
“Hi Scott! Hi!” Pearl says, giggling hauntingly through the words. Her character laughs a lot, and it’s all absolutely unhinged—it’s one of her favorite parts of this role.
“I didn’t think it would end this way,” Scott muses.
“Neither did I, to be honest.” Pearl meets Scott’s eyes, both failing to suppress a smile, however out-of-character it is. There’s no stakes here, and this is Scott, her partner, and Pearl can’t feel anything but loved when she’s with him… even in spite of their characters’ relationship.
“I didn’t think… um, I didn’t think it would come down to… the two of us.” Scott’s voice trails off at moments, struggling to recall the exact lines. He goes quiet for a moment, glancing between Cleo and Pearl when neither of them say anything.
“It’s still your line,” Cleo prompts.
“Ugh. Right. Um… I don’t know how Martyn and Cleo died?” Scott glances at Cleo for confirmation. They nod.
“ Still don’t know, but yes.”
“Right. I still don’t know how Martyn and Cleo died, I don’t know what happened there. They tried to turn on me after you killed the other two, but—”
“Yeah, they turned on me. Started killing my dogs, so… that happened,” Pearl fills in, fondness welling up at her at the way Scott’s brow scrunches up, eyes cast to the sky as though that will help him recall his lines faster.
“And then you managed to turn it around?” Scott replies. His words overlap the end of her line, just the way they’ve practiced, and his voice takes on a deliberate tone of incredulity.
Pearl laughs, one of the unhinged cackles that she’s perfected for this role. “Yeah, I did! You know it!”
Scott pauses there. “I think you deserve this more?” His voice lilts up in a question at the end, glancing at Cleo for confirmation. She shakes her head.
“Skipped a line. ‘You know, there were many ways…’”
Scott groans. “Right. You know, there were many ways I thought this was gonna go. I don’t know if I considered a finale with me and you—I mean, I thought we would win, but—”
Scott recovers beautifully from his missed line, dropping back into the role effortlessly. Pearl matches his energy with ease. They play off of each other so well
“I honestly didn’t have a lot of faith in us, but I had faith in myself and Tilly. And Tilly’s now passed away, so…”
Here, Scott grins triumphantly—he knows this part. “I think… Pearl, you—you deserve this more.”
Pearl lets another unhinged giggle spill from her lips. “Excuse me?! What do you mean?”
“In the same way… Tilly death do us part, Pearl!”
“Wait, Scott, what are you doing?”
“Tilly death do us part!”
“Scott! What are you doing! Scott! ” Pearl lets her voice pitch up, filling her words with a frantic anxiety as the scene ends. She and Scott grin at each other, self-satisfied, the moment broken only by Martyn making explosion noises. Pearl flicks him on the head.
Cleo closes the script they’ve been reading from, something smug and proud dancing in their smile. “There you go, you did it. Perfect.”
Scott grumbles. “I keep messing up that one line… which one was it again?” He takes the script from Cleo, who gripes performatively: “Oh my God, you could ask , Scott—” but doesn’t fight.
Scott pages through the script, and Pearl takes the opportunity to cuddle further into him, reading over his shoulder as he mumbles to himself—“You know, there were many ways I thought this was going to go…”—repeating the line until it settles comfortably in his memory. Pearl stretches herself out, kicking Martyn as she extends her leg.
“Oops.”
Martyn glares. “Don’t act like that was an accident.”
Pearl can only laugh.
Scott looks up from his script, expression bright. “God, this show is going to be so good .”
“‘Course it is,” Cleo agrees. “You two are killing it. You’re, like, scarily good at pretending to hate each other.”
Pearl preens at the praise—whether they’re partners, soulmates, or mortal enemies, she and Scott always make an incredible duo, and their show really is fantastic. The last scene is definitely her favorite, and she knows it’s Scott’s as well. Outside of their own acting, Skizz has truly outdone himself on lighting. As Pearl calls her last lines and Scott “lights” his explosives, all front lighting on the two of them goes out, leaving them silhouetted onstage against fire-toned LEDs, Pearl reaching out for Scott as the stage goes dark. It’s a chilling image, a perfect ending to their show, and Pearl loves it.
She looks over at Scott, grinning, something like “Aww, thank you” or perhaps “Hell yeah we are!” on the tip of her tongue, but it quickly fades away. Scott’s expression is pinched, his smile half-hearted at best, something hesitant and anxious in his face that makes Pearl’s heart ache.
“Scott? What’s wrong?”
Scott’s half-smile immediately falls, face dropping into a petulant pout. “Pearl,” he whines, and she giggles.
“That’s right! I know you too well, you can’t hide from me. What’s going on?”
Scott sighs, picking at the fabric of the beanbag. “Are you—you’re doing okay? With the play, with our storyline?” he asks, something achingly earnest in his voice.
Pearl blinks. That… was not what she was expecting. Still, she supposes it makes sense. In real life, Scott is the best QPP Pearl could ask for, and she can’t imagine anyone she’s closer to, or anyone she’d rather give such a role in her life. In the play, though… well, in the play, Pearl and Scott hate each other, to put it bluntly.
Cleo responds before Pearl does. “Scott, you’re an idiot.”
“Hey!” he complains, but he still doesn’t look reassured.
“Yeah, Scott, I’m okay,” Pearl quickly interjects.
This show is different from others they’d done—for this show, Grian decided he wanted to try something different, writing the show around the actors. He had a concept in mind: a world of soulmates where you share injuries and lives, where only one person can be left standing. But he’d wanted to develop the pairings and plot around the actors themselves. Their cast list was a simple list of soulmate pairs, no character names to be found, and their first few weeks of rehearsals were nothing but team-building and improv exercises.
They’ve put so much work into building these characters—hell, the characters even share their names . With a sinking feeling, Pearl understands why Scott might be having hesitations.
“Are you okay?” she asks in turn.
Scott nods hastily. Pearl frowns. Cleo raises an eyebrow. Martyn’s eyes dart between the three of them, something tense and curious in his expression.
“Scott…” Pearl prompts. Cleo does not have quite so much tact, the harshness in their voice shaping into tenderness in the way only Cleo knows how to do.
“Scott, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again—you’re an idiot.”
“We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s wrong,” Pearl adds, far more gently.
Scott breathes deeply, hand coming to intertwine with Pearl’s. “It’s just—there’s so much of us in this show. And sometimes I worry you’ll forget that… I don’t mean it. There’s so much of me in him—in Scott, the character—and I just wanted to make sure you knew that that —us… hating each other—it’s not me. I don’t know what I’d do if you thought that.”
There is quiet in the dressing room as the four of them let that sink in. Gently, teasingly, Pearl nudges Scott. “Vulnerability is a good look on you. You should try it more often.”
Martyn chuckles. Scott buries his face in his hands. “Shut upppp.”
“I know it’s not real, Scott, don’t worry,” Pearl continues, pulling Scott’s hand away from his face just so she can hold it again. “It’s acting. We have fun onstage, sure, but at the end of the day, you’re still my amazing partner. And you never let me forget it.”
“You never let anyone forget it,” Cleo grumbles. “Remember when you two first met? Scott had the most embarrassing squish on you, Pearl, and I had to deal with it.”
Pearl grins, wordlessly prompting Cleo to go on. She’s heard this story a million times, but she’ll never get tired of it. Plus, Martyn hasn’t heard this one yet—she keeps one eye on his face, already lined with fondness and intrigue.
Cleo continues. “It was all ‘oh, Pearl is so cool, I really want to be her friend, do you think she likes this, do you think she knows that, am I getting a good grade in making friends, something normal to want and possible to achieve—’”
“Cleo!” Scott protests.
“I had to deal with that for our entire fall show last year— after everything the year before with Jimmy, no less. I’m allowed to make as much fun of you as I want.”
Pearl grins, addressing her words to Martyn when she speaks. “Did you know that Scott joined stage crew just so he could be friends with me?”
Martyn whistles. “Smooth.”
“No, it’s not—can we go back to comforting me? You’re all so mean,” Scott pouts.
Pearl giggles. “Just saying. We know you love us, dude. There are a lot of pieces of us in this show, but that’s not one of them. And that’s okay. I love this show because I get to play this insane character with my partner and two of my best friends in the world.”
“Agreed.” Martyn chimes in, catching everyone by surprise. “I wouldn’t have made friends with you guys if we didn’t all get cast as each others’ soulmates. And you guys are amazing, genuinely. I’m so glad I get to hang out with you and rehearse with you, and I’m so lucky that we clicked so well and you brought me into your little group.”
“It’s your ‘little group’ too now, you loser. Don’t forget that,” Cleo huffs.
Scott sighs happily, squishing them all impossibly closer together in a group hug. It’s awkward, elbows jabbing into each other and bodies contorting uncomfortably to fit together, and Pearl has never felt happier. “I love you all so much,” he murmurs. “Most amazing friends I could ask for.”
Pearl grins. “Hell yeah we are.”
They stay like that for a moment, bodies twisted together, listening to each others’ breaths and letting everything they mean to each other fill the air between them. Finally, there’s a soft knock on the door, and they pull apart as Mumbo’s pale face pokes into the room.
“We’re ready to start the run—places for the top of the show!”
“Thank you, places!” the four of them chorus. Just as quickly as he’d come, Mumbo is gone, off to perform his stage manager-ly duties.
Cleo is the first to move, stretching herself out before pushing herself to her feet. “Come on, you three. If I have to hear another sappy thing from you I’ll explode. Time to pretend to murder each other!” Her tone is flippant, but her eyes trace over each of them, lingering on Scott, making sure they’re okay. Apparently satisfied with what she sees, Cleo starts out of the dressing room, trusting them to follow her.
Scott, Pearl, and Martyn pull themselves off of the beanbag, and Pearl mourns the loss of the comfy spot and the body heat around her, but nevertheless falls into step with Scott, Martyn a few paces ahead of them. Martyn pulls ahead, falling into step with Cleo, but Pearl and Scott maintain a steady pace at each others’ sides. As they near the theater, Pearl takes Scott’s hand.
“Are you doing okay? With the show? I mean, your character fully kills himself—”
She hadn’t realized til now, but Scott’s question awakened some suppressed anxieties in her, and his words from earlier ratchet around in her skull: There’s so much of me in him—in Scott, the character . As much as she loves this show, it’s not for the faint of heart, and sometimes it does get to her—not because of the animosity between their characters, but because of just how self-sacrificing Scott’s is.
Scott hums, considering his words before he speaks them. It’s something Pearl has always appreciated about him.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Like you said—it’s just acting, and I know that. I just… got in my head, I guess.”
“Yeah, well. That’s what I’m here for—to get you out of your head. That’s why we’re partners.” Pearl grins, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Scott squeezes back, smiling fondly.
“That’s why we’re partners.”