"What? No way," Dylan says, when his agent tells him that actually, he didn't blow it until he ran out of the room.
"They liked what they saw," Susan says. "They're just concerned about being able to depend on you."
"Shit," Dylan says, face going hot, eyes stinging. "That's—shit. I really, I really thought—"
"I know what you thought," Susan says. There's no judgment there. It's just a matter of fact to her that Dylan's an unreliable spaz. "But it doesn't matter. This happened with Teen Wolf too, remember? You didn't like your first take, but you were honest with them, and they gave you another shot."
"Yeah, that was—" Dylan says, mortified. "I was a little punk kid, I didn't know anything. I never even considered, like, what their time was worth."
"You took a chance," Susan says, too patiently. Even Hoech gets exasperated, like, stop undermining yourself all the time. But Susan's unflappable. "It got you your most substantial job yet. Maybe there's something to learn from that."
"Right," Dylan says, latching on to Tyler's arm before he fully steps into his apartment. Tyler's eyebrows jump, but he lets Dylan lead him to his laptop, sit him down on the couch. "So."
"So," Tyler says, a little bemused grin playing around his lips. Dylan scrapes his hand down his face, says, "I can't even look at you, man," and plops down next to him, kisses his dumb impossibly attractive mouth. "No, no," he says, eventually, pulling away, shoving his fingers through his hair. "What I was—I was gonna say, I'm not giving up on Terminal."
"That's great," Tyler says warmly. "They're gonna love you."
"No, that's just it," Dylan says, flipping the laptop open and adjusting the camera. "I'm not doing it alone."
They get it in one take, do a second for security. Tyler really commits, every time, the camera and the pressure just completely falling away when Dylan plays off him. It's not even distracting that Tyler's the mom. He really taps into something there, this impossible vulnerability and strength at the same time. This really bittersweet, subtle regret of everything that happened going the way that it did, and what could have been, and this sense of finality that shakes something in Dylan loose, has the tears coming without half the run-up it usually takes.
After, it's a few minutes before Dylan can get himself together, and this quiet sense of loss sticks around even when Tyler's right there, laughing at some offhand, half-serious comment of Dylan's like it's the funniest thing in the world. Dylan looks at him for a microsecond before he laughs back, before he thinks, Yeah, I guess that was kind of funny, actually. Dylan would get such a massive head if the only feedback he listened to was Tyler's. Then he'd be even more unbearable, this wunderkind actor buying into his own press, it's ridiculous.
It's not like Dylan doesn't know he's funny: he can be funny. Or pull off a good dramatic scene, or whatever it is. He's not doing this job because he thinks he's crap at it and he's trying to humiliate himself. It's just that he's—Susan's right, he's unreliable. It's just that sometimes he can hit all his marks, really disappear into a character, or charm a room full of strangers with some rapid-fire banter, and sometimes he's just off, out of it, and can't find that sweet spot, can't believe his own acting. He knows when he sucks, okay, he knows what it feels like when a scene isn't working as well as it could. If he wasn't critical, he'd just be phoning it in, and that's not the career he wants to have. Even if the movie bombs, if the only people who see it are Dylan and the director, or it dies on the cutting room floor, he still wants his performance to be the best he can do. That audition, he knows he wasn't terrible. It wasn't cringingly bad. But it wasn't this, how it was with Tyler, how it should've been. It was just okay, and that's not anywhere near good enough.
But he shouldn't have run. Dylan knows that that was a bad move. And it's not like he can just go back and try again; it's way too late for that. They're not gonna wanna hear from him anymore.
Dylan swore he was done making YouTube videos years ago, and he is. They're little jokey things he did as a kid, things that get more and more embarrassing every time some serious actor mentions them, like that dopey little kid humping a Christmas tree is what Stanley Tucci thinks of when he thinks "Dylan O'Brien." But they're also the only reason Dylan even got Stiles in the first place, so... maybe this isn't the craziest idea Dylan's ever had.
The studio's not gonna listen to Dylan on his own, but—he's read stories, ballsy moves actors and writers made, releasing stuff on their own, and working up such a big buzz the studio can't ignore it. Look at, look at Deadpool, right now. That test clip blew up, and now Ryan Reynolds is getting a chance to play a costumed guy who doesn't suck. If he would've gone to the studio and, like, knocked politely on the door? That never would've happened.
Dylan honestly doesn't remember his YouTube password anymore, and he hasn't checked that email address since, like, 2009. It's a little bit daunting. Honestly, all of this is probably a wormhole he's been smart to avoid as much as possible until now. He doesn't need to read the comments on a sketch he wrote, if you could even call it that, when he was practically pre-pubescent. That's just feeding the worst parts of your brain enough ammo to put you permanently out of commission. What? No, I don't need to look anyone in the eye ever again. Why do you ask?
But Dylan wouldn't have any of this if he was too chickenshit to take a risk. Right? That's just what he has to remember, and focus on. This project, this character, and really getting to dive into someone's life again, without getting on his knees in front of Jeff Davis and fucking blowing him.
And this video, these two takes with Tyler, Dylan knows those are good. Production value isn't exactly up there, but that's not the point. It's a read-through, not a trailer. If Dylan posts this, sends this off into the abyss of the internet, he'll have no regrets about it, whatever happens.
"Ready to be a YouTube star?" he asks Tyler, when he finally recovers his password and logs in. He's ridiculously nervous, fingers tingling numb.
"I don't know," Tyler says, fighting to keep a straight face. "Any advice?"
"Don't look back," Dylan says, and sends the video out into the world.
The problem with trying to figure out if your insane risk is picking up the right type of buzz without actually daring to look at the notifications is that it's impossible. It's just not possible. And Dylan, he has impulse control issues, like how he's fidgeting so bad Tyler's vibrating next to him. On second thought, this was a terrible, insane idea, and he's gonna get sued for everything he's got and more for leaking entire major scenes of Terminal on a whim. People have been fired after scripts were dug out of their trash, much less... And that doesn't even make sense. Shouldn't it be "much more"? And fuck, what if Dylan just detonated his whole career? What if he did, shit, and what if Tyler being in it destroys his life too? Holy crap, Dylan's a monster. He's just, he just completely—
"I didn't have to say yes," Tyler says, palms warm and steady over Dylan's jittering shoulder, his ribs. "I took the risk with you. I'm not worried."
Dylan thumps his head back against the couch, closes his eyes, and moans. He's gonna be responsible for ruining Tyler's life. Hoech chose acting over baseball even though he really fucking loves baseball, which can only mean he really, really fucking loves acting. And Dylan's gonna get him blacklisted. This is literally the worst decision Dylan's ever made, like, in any life he ever may have lived.
"I'm not worried," Tyler says soothingly. "Being blacklisted with you? There are worst things."
"How do you function," Dylan mutters. How is Tyler Hoechlin even a real person, how do you even comprehend the ability of such a person to exist.
"What's that even mean?" Tyler asks, laughing, but there's a little frown at the end of it, brows drawing together, and Dylan rushes to say,
"Just—How are you so chill," scratching the back of his neck, wishing he'd never said anything. "Like, nothing fazes you. Ever."
"I don't know if that's true," Tyler says, and Dylan waves his hands a little frantically, tries to wave his stupid comment away.
"No, no, I'm saying, it's cool," Dylan says. "Like—admirable."
"I'm a real person," Tyler says. "I'm not—Just because I don't think about everything that bothers me until I'm actually sick over it doesn't mean I'm faking."
"I didn't say that," Dylan says desperately.
"My sister thinks I'm living a lie," Tyler says, almost to himself. "I'm not living a lie. It isn't lying to try to be happy."
"Hoech," Dylan says, stomach twisting. "That's not—It was just this stupid, this offhand—"
"But you meant it," Tyler says. "Didn't you?"
"Not like you're taking it," Dylan says. "Not—Fuck, why do you think I love you? If I think it's just some, some persona. I don't."
Tyler looks at him so intently a flush creeps up Dylan's skin.
"What," Dylan says, stupidly self conscious. "What, is that surprising? Wow, Dylan's got feelings. Someone tell TMZ."
"Could've told me," Tyler says quietly.
"I could've—You really didn't know," Dylan says, skeptical. "We talked about this. I've been obsessed with you forever."
"Yeah, with my—" Tyler's ears are pink. "My physique."
"Shut up, that letter was hilarious," Dylan says. "That's not—We've had actual conversations."
"When?" Tyler says.
"In my head, apparently," Dylan says. He lets out a little exasperated huff. "It's not like—You didn't say it to me either."
"I thought you were afraid of it," Tyler says. "This being—real. Being that guy." He swallows a little thickly, says, "I didn't wanna—pressure you into—"
"What, being happy?" Dylan says.
"Would you be?" Tyler says. "With people knowing, or, or thinking they knew."
"Screw people," Dylan says tightly. He's watching Tyler's throat, how his swallows are all wrong, like he's choking on something. It makes Dylan feel like he's drowning, like he's the worst person in the world. "I don't—Whatever, it doesn't matter. You can teach me not to care."
"I told Carrie I'm happy," Tyler says. "How things are. I wasn't lying. You don't need—"
"Yeah, shut up," Dylan says, grabbing at his phone and tapping through to Twitter.
Tyler stares at him. Swallows again, and Dylan finds what he's looking for, sends off a response, and shoves the phone into Tyler's hands.
"I don't—What is this?"
"Just read it," Dylan says, and watches him, watches Tyler's eyes widen after a long, tense second.
"You didn't have to do that," Tyler says, sounding stunned.
"I don't like being a liar either," Dylan says, and takes his hand. "Hope you're camera-ready."
Pandarap316: adylanobrien Spotted atylerhoechlin playing the wifey in your aTerminalthemovie audition video. Art imitating life?
dylanobrien: aPandarap316 if you dismiss out the marriage, child, divorce and gender—yes :)