Chapter Text
The sun is shining when Evan leaves the hospital after five long days. Evan doesn’t seem keen on discussing what happened during those five days, so Jared tries not to ask too many questions about it all. The car is silent as they drive home, albeit for the brisk brush of summer wind.
Home. Jared pauses. Home. He lets his brain wander, for just a moment, the image of a small brick house bursting into his mind. One bedroom. Whitewashed walls. Small pots on every windowsill, plants peaking out. Evan standing in the living room. Their living room.
It’s so clear it almost blinds him.
They turn onto Evan’s street, and then, suddenly, a hand is on Jared’s. “Can you pull over?” Evan whispers, his voice low but clear.
Jared slows to a halt, turning up a small side alley for privacy, “Are you alright? Do you feel sick? Is-”
“I’m fine,” Evan interrupts--that’s new--his hands pressed into the smooth fabric of his pants. “I am. I just. Can we get out of the car, for just a moment?” It’s something he learned during all of those therapy sessions. Ask for what you want, Evan. People can’t just read your mind. You have to tell them, directly, precisely.
Jared nods slowly, a calm facade over his expression, but the twitchy movements of his hands reveal otherwise. They vacate the car.
Evan walks around to the opposite side of the vehicle, and before Jared can move, Evan’s arms are wrapping tightly around him. Evan presses his face into the crook of Jared’s neck, eyes squeezed shut, as Jared’s arms slowly wrap around his waist.
Five days felt like an eternity.
Jared lets his own eyes slip closed, his breath falling into sync with the other boy’s. He presses a steady hand to Evan’s back, trying to push back the tears that threaten to fall down his face.
“I missed you so much,” Evan whispers, his voice choked. “I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone that much.”
Jared swallows thickly, “It was just five days.” Suddenly, Evan makes to move away, but Jared quickly stops him. “No, no, I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like that. I… I missed you so much, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” Jared pulls back just a little, his hands still placed on his boyfriend’s hipbones, “I’m really proud of you, Ev. As dorky or cheesy or whatever as that may sound, I’m really proud of you.” He meets Evan’s eyes. They’re clearer than before, the rings of green no longer hidden underneath layers upon layers of self-hatred.
It’s not perfect. Hospitalization isn’t a cure-all. It’s not like Evan is magically “better.” It isn’t. They both know that. But it is a step in the right direction.
“I did it for myself,” Evan says abruptly, his voice louder than usual. “I’m getting better for myself. ‘Cause I deserve it. Not ‘cause I want to please anyone, or-or anything. It’s for me.”
Jared brushes the back of his fingers over Evan’s cheek, nodding slowly, barely understanding. “You deserve only the best in the entire world.”
Evan blinks, leaning forward slowly, “So do you.”
They kiss, standing in the middle of a deserted alleyway, lips fitting together like two matching puzzle pieces, arms wrapped around each other, the smell of the hospital still thick in Evan’s hair, the warmth of their bodies radiating into the warming summer breeze.
When they do finally arrive at Evan’s house, Heidi is standing by the doorway, arms wrapped around her body, waiting. Evan hugs her close. Jared stands back, letting them have their moment. They both deserve it and so much more.
After a few moments, Evan's hand reaches for him, stretches out and pulls him in. All three of them stand in the doorway, their arms wrapped around each other, trying and failing not to cry. The tears that fall down their faces aren’t ones of sadness, though, there ones of new possibilities.
Evan returns to school. Luckily, what with being a second semester senior, he doesn’t have much make-up work to do. Jared watches as another senior, a girl who’s in Evan’s anthropology class, approaches him in the hallway on his second day back and softly asks where he was for the past few days. Jared watches as a lie flickers across Evan’s face--“Oh, I was out of town, visiting some family.”--before he takes a deep breath and says, “I was in the hospital. For mental health stuff. Voluntary admission. I’m out now, so…”
Jared watches as the girl blinks a few times at Evan before nodding. “That’s...chill,” she replies, obviously stunned that Evan told her any of that. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”
Evan nods slowly, pulling at one end of his backpack. “Thank you. I am, too.”
They talk for a few more moments, before the end-of-lunch bell rings and they head out. Evan looks up at the ceiling for a few moments, before turning to Jared. “I’m not ashamed about working to get better.”
He says things like that a lot. Little, seemingly rehearsed phrases, probably ones his therapist has told him over and over. I’m not ashamed about working to get better. I’m getting better for myself, because I deserve it. It’s okay to not be okay, and it’s not my fault whenever I’m not okay. I don’t always need to explain everything I’m feeling. It’s okay to ask for help. Getting better takes time and effort. He repeats little things like that a lot. Over and over until, until one day, he’s not just repeating the words anymore. Because, one day, he actually believes them.
Evan’s put on two different medications. An antidepressant and something for his anxiety. He visits a therapist once a week and a psychiatrist whenever it’s necessary.
He still worries about the cost, worries about how in the world he’s going to pay for all of this for the rest of his life.
He still has panic attacks. They’re not as common, but they definitely do happen. Days when Evan feels like he can’t breathe, when the entire weight of the world is pressing down on his chest, crushing his ribcage, when everything’s too bright and too loud and just too much. Eventually, though, those days occur less often than not.
He’s not perfect. He never will be. But he’s getting better.
The Murphys don’t tell anyone the truth. He keeps waiting, waiting and waiting and waiting. Every day, he wakes up and wonders if maybe today will be the day. The day when the truth comes out, when Zoe publishes a tell-all explaining how Evan lied to her entire family, to the entire school, to the entire world. But that day never comes.
The guilt of his actions is sometimes so overwhelming that he can’t think straight. He tries, numerous times, tries to reach out to Larry, Cynthia, and Zoe. He types in her phone number but is never able to press the call button. He pulls up a chat on Facebook but is never able to press send. He doesn’t think he can possibly make it better, can possibly atone for his actions.
It’s something he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life.
They graduate, caps thrown in the air. High school is over. It’s over, all of it, all the furtive hallway glances and growing mountains of homework. It’s all over. Jared pulls Evan so close to him that he feels like he’ll never let go.
Alana Beck texts Evan a week after graduation. Asks him to meet her at a coffee shop uptown. She apologizes for leaking the note--the letter--and asks if they can still be friends. “Friends.” Not “acquaintances.” Friends. Evan apologizes, too, for everything. It takes a long while for him to stop apologizing.
Alana leaves a few weeks later, off to some prestigious university. She didn’t put any of her work with The Connor Project on her resume, feeling uncomfortable with profiting from it all, in any way or form. She gets in anyway, as everyone--except perhaps her--knew she would. She plans to major in law, with a minor in human resources.
Zoe comes out to her mother and father. Her and Alana are managing with long-distance. They text and Snapchat daily, as well as call and Facetime at least once a week. They make it work. They leave each day in the moment, as it comes.
Zoe looks at her girlfriend and thinks to herself, I am so in love.
Jared goes to school in the city, at Nesnielk University, a twenty-minute bus ride away.
Evan takes a gap year. He never managed to apply to any scholarships during senior year, too caught up in everything, and he needs to earn money. He needs to get better, too, to really get better. Working at Pottery Barn is interesting, to say the least. It’s his biggest step forward. Most people would overlook something like that, but every day, Evan is surrounded by people he’s never met before, in a place that is not his own, surrounded by questions to which he might not know the answer. So, every morning, he takes several deep breaths, pulls on his robe, and prepares himself for the workday ahead.
Evan and Jared break up.
Once.
It becomes too much for Evan. He feels like he isn’t worth it, like he is holding Jared back, like Jared should be off enjoying college and living his life, not tied down to someone who just barely stopped having panic attacks in the work room of Pottery Barn. He feels like he isn’t enough.
They get back together. Tears and hugs and kisses and whispers and confessions.
Communication really is key.
They stay together. They’ve never loved someone else more.
Evan applies to so many scholarships he almost can’t keep track. Whenever he isn’t working, he’s applying to scholarships. Whenever he isn’t applying to scholarships, he’s writing for his portfolio. And whenever he isn’t writing for his portfolio, he’s talking to Jared or his mother.
It’s hard, sometimes, being alone in that house so much. It’s like one gigantic summer, alone indoors until Heidi comes home at six o’clock or so. Oftentimes later.
Jared makes him playlist after playlist so he has something to fill the endless stream of quiet, something to connect himself with others. He fills all of his other time by taking more shifts and going to therapy sessions.
He doesn’t magically become a social butterfly. It doesn’t work like that. But he is getting better.
Then, one day, he gets a letter in the mail. A thick, heavy letter with clean, clear penmanship. It’s an acceptance letter, from Nesnielk University, offering him a place at their school as well as a partial scholarship. It isn’t a full ride, but it’s more than what he needs. He’ll just keep working during college. On top of it all, It’s the same university Jared attends.
Evan’s therapist--Dr. Luap--wonders whether or not that’s for the best, whether Evan really should stay with Jared, or whether it would be better for him to go elsewhere, to branch out, to find new people. But Evan...Evan doesn’t have a doubt in his mind. He accepts the offer. He’s going to college.
He’s going to college.
Jared drives home and Heidi takes off one of her shifts. They stand in the kitchen, drinking sparkling grape juice and laughing, listening to soft music and none of them can stop smiling.
Then, one fateful day in May, Evan Hansen receives a text message from a number he thought he’d never hear from again. Zoe Murphy. Asking him to meet at the orchard.
The orchard. Right. They reached their goal all those months ago, made enough money to restore the entire few acres. Then, Evan stepped back as Co-President of the Connor Project, letting Alana take full reigns of the organization, feeling as though he no longer deserved a place on that board. Visions of Connor stopped appearing in Evan’s mind, though he still makes brief appearance in Evan’s dreams. He sits, watches. Evan doesn’t think he’s ever going to leave.
In Evan’s place, Zoe joins the organization, which just keeps growing and growing.
He meets Zoe in the orchard one day in June. She’s standing a few feet away, staring up at a plaque on the entrance gate. Slowly, Evan clears his throat, “Hey.”
Zoe jolts, turning around quickly, “Hey.”
“How-how are you?” He tries to keep his voice regulated, keep his hands straight by his sides, not twitching or pulling or pinching or fidgeting or-
“I’m doing well. School’s winding down.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a senior, then, right?” He phrases it like a question, like there’s any way he could possibly forget, even when there isn’t.
“Yeah! And you’re a freshman?”
Evan swallows, glancing down, “No, no, I’m not actually, I took… I took a year off. I’m working at Pottery Barn, actually. If you’re ever in need of overpriced home decor.”
Zoe chuckles, softly, sweetly, and part of Evan’s chest falls through. “I don’t need any at the moment, no, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
“There’s a friends and family discount that I could get you.”
Zoe looks up, their eyes meeting suddenly. “Friends and family?” she repeats.
“Yeah.” Evan nods, his mouth feeling absurdly dry. Please. “A friends and family discount.”
“Well, I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.”
Evan presses his eyes closed, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Yeah?”
“Of course.” Zoe glances around for a few moments, moving towards one of the trees. “You haven’t been here before, have you? I can tell.”
Evan rubs his thumb and his middle finger together a few times, steadying himself. “No, I haven’t. I’ve-I’ve driven by it, twice a day at least for the past seven months, but I’ve never been inside. I felt-I felt like…like I didn’t deserve it, you know?” His eyes trace over the budding plants, the small trees just bursting out of the ground. New growth. New life. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Zoe agrees.
A moment of silence passes between them.
Evan has to break it. He has to, he has to, he has to, he has to learn to reach out. “I-” he starts, abruptly, shattering the quiet. “I’m sorry. I know that isn’t-that isn’t a worthy explanation, I know, and I know that there’s nothing I can do that could possibly ever atone for what I did, for what I’ve done, but I just wanted to say, I want to say that I am so sorry. For everything. And I just want to apologize for everything, to everyone, but especially-especially to you.”
He takes a deep breath, glancing at Zoe, but she doesn’t say a word. Please. He continues, roughly, “I went through one of my old yearbooks, from eighth grade, I think, and there was this one section where everyone could have something special about what makes them, you know, them. And most kids just did a collage with their friends or whatever, and I just-I didn’t do anything, actually, but-but Connor, he, um, had a list of his top ten favorite books. And I know-I know that isn’t the same as knowing him, I know it isn’t and never will be, but I’ve been... I’ve been reading them all.”
He’s on the third book--Connor’s seventh favorite--reading carefully with a pen in one hand, circling and scribbling and marking. He feels Connor around him sometimes, a strange presence, this unexplainable connection that isn’t fading, that never will fade.
Zoe turns, abruptly, her expression difficult to read, “I just want to say that- She inhales deeply, pressing her hands together. “I don’t know, those days when you were in the hospital, I thought-I… I’m just… I’m really glad. I’m really glad you’re alive, Evan. Beyond glad, I just- You made a lot of mistakes. A lot of really fucking big mistakes, but I…” She drops her hands to her sides. “I forgive you, Evan Hansen.”
I forgive you, Evan Hansen.
I forgive you, Evan Hansen.
I forgive you, Evan Hansen.
Evan covers his face with his two hands, taking deep, hurrying breaths, hunching over. He can’t speak. She forgives you, she forgives you, she forgives you, whether or not you deserve her forgiveness she’s given it to you.
He forces his breathing to even after a few moments, to relax, his heart to stop pounding so loudly. He still doesn’t know what to say. No words can explain.
He looks at her.
He sees Connor there, in her eyes.
She looks at him.
She sees Connor there, in his gaze.
Zoe smiles lightly, those clear brown eyes softening, “I’ll call you, okay? Alana is coming to visit in June, and maybe you and Jared could come with us to get coffee or something?”
An olive branch.
What has Evan done to deserve Zoe Murphy?
What has the world done to deserve Zoe Murphy?
“Yes,” Evan nods. “Yes, yes, I’d love that. Jared would, too. We’d love to.” He bites his lip, pressing his eyes together, willing himself to stop crying. “Thank you.” He nods, “Thank you.”
She smiles, a hand reaching out to touch Evan’s shoulder lightly, recalling one of their previous conversations. “Don’t mention it.”
Evan stays in the orchard for an hour after Zoe leaves, sitting with his thoughts, staring at the plaque with Connor’s name written across it.
His heart feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time: hope.
He, Alana, Jared, and Zoe do all meet up for coffee. They talk for an hour or so, all pleasantries. It isn’t perfect. It so obviously isn’t perfect. But it’s good. It’s better. It’s another step forward.
He really is getting better.
Evan starts college. His roommate turns out to not be fairly relaxed, spending most of his time in the school library.
Evan spends most nights in Jared’s apartment anyway. He moved out of the dorms, setting up a small, cramped, but nevertheless cozy and homey place for himself. Evan sleeps wrapped up around his boyfriend, his head on Jared’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
Midnight kisses and warm chests.
Jared doesn’t declare his major until late sophomore year. He decides to be a set designer. He’s always loved architecture, building things, creating things, and through theatre, he can create an entire world as well. The first show he works on is a school production of Spring Awakening. Evan sees the show at least ten times, all from different perspectives, watching Jared’s magic come to life. He cries the whole time. It’s a long while until he stops.
Evan majors in botany with a minor in creative writing.
It should be impossible to be as in love as they are. It isn’t.
For their third dating anniversary, Jared sends Evan a coupon from furniture Pottery Barn in the mail, all old-fashioned with a hand-written ridiculously romantic note attached. Across the note, after various declarations of love, is written, "Move in with me?"
They move in together.
They both graduate. Time passes. They both get jobs.
Some days, it feels like everything will come crashing down. But those days pass. And they stay afloat.
They have each other, and other people, too. Their mothers. Zoe and Alana. New colleagues, new friends.
Evan publishes his first children’s book when he turns twenty-two. It’s short, only about fifteen pages, with colorful illustrations, telling the tale of an anxious tree who finally learned to let other people in.
They move to New York City after Jared is offered a job as an assistant set designer at an off-Broadway show.
Evan hangs up beautiful photos of nature across their shoebox apartment, placing little succulents in every single window. Being in New York City is, what with all the bustling crowds and flashing lights, for Evan, the biggest step forward yet.
As for Jared, assistant set designer at an off-Broadway show turns into set designer at an off-Broadway show, which then turns into an assistant set designer at a Broadway show, which finally, finally, becomes a set designer at a Broadway show. He may or may not cry when he gets that call, offering him the job of his dreams. (He does.)
Evan publishes a book. A real book. A memoir, in fact. Nearly three-hundred pages. With the explicit permission from the entire Murphy family, Evan tells his story. He tells it all, every single last detail, spilling across the pages like the biggest therapy assignment he’s ever had. About his life before, during, and after the events of senior year. He donates all of the proceeds to The Connor Project. The organization is now a non-profit, dedicating to not only keeping Connor Murphy’s memory alive, but to helping other teeangers who suffer like he did.
Neither Alana nor Jared still work for the organization, but their names, along with Evan’s, are listed on the Founder’s page in clear, bold letters. Zoe Murphy, after taking the helm of the still-growing organization, is the youngest CEO of a major non-profit in history.
The New York Times heralds Evan’s breakout memoir as: “Gritty, life-altering, and painfully honest” with a five-star rating. It sells out across America.
So much more time passes. They both turn thirty.
Jared whispers "I love you" into Evan's neck every morning when he leaves for work.
Evan’s book is made into a play. Jared works as the set designer. It’s nearly absurd how some things work out.
After the show begins to truly take off, no longer truly needing their assistance, they both leave the city, needing breathing room. They return to their hometown for just a few months, surrounded by Heidi and Ms. Kleinman, and rent an apartment right by their old high school.
It begins to seem like every step backward is accompanied by two steps forward.
They're succeeding in ways they never thought possible.
Jared proposes to Evan on a sunny day in June. They’re at the Kesap Conservatory, inside the butterfly room, surrounded by the hum of life and the bright colors of flowers and plants, holding hands, when Jared drops onto one knee and holds out a small, velvet box. It’s a simple ring, a band of silver and titanium, a stripe of blue around the middle.
Jared’s not really sure about whether or not he’s really supposed to give a guy an engagement ring, but he decides that he doesn’t really care what he is and is not supposed to do. Jared gets one for himself too, figures they might as well both wear engagement rings, because why not. His is the same design, but with a stripe of forest green around the middle. The color of Evan’s eyes.
Evan has never smiled more in his entire life. He says “Yes” so many times it stops sounding like an actual word.
Evan doesn’t invite his father to the wedding. He turns to Jared one night, sitting in their living room, wrapped up in a blanket. “I don’t want him to come,” he explains. “So he’s not going to come.”
Jared hugs him close and agrees.
They’re young. So young, really.
Evan closes Jared’s hand in his, skin against skin.
They’re both getting better.
Jared loves him so much.
Evan has never felt more alive.