Chapter Text
A part of him was ashamed that he had kept the letter that Evan had written for about a year now.
Of course, no one noticed, why would they? It's none of their business either ways, Connor spent the long nights smoking pot till his nerves were calmed and not tensing at the slightest of sounds and the words seemed to have rang through his mind more than anything. While Evan never seemed to be the type to be able to write such a thing, his words did still speak volumes. His actions were clearer, and Connor felt like he understood somewhat of what Evan meant in his letter. Didn't ever mean he went out of his way to speak with Evan. After the park incident, Evan seemingly disappeared from Connor's life entirely, he didn't recall seeing or hearing him at school, and wondered if Evan was just avoiding him entirely. Summer came, and Connor had forgotten about the want to speak with Evan again, and just had the letter to build Evan up.
Nervous, yet struggling.
Connor appreciated the honesty of the letter, and when summer was eventually over (Three months of nothing but arguing, running off and pot, not much to say about it), Senior year was here to greet it's disgusting head. That was how the day started; Connor pressing his head against the table, catching some last minute shut eyes before feeling the rough noises of Zoe clanging her fork against her plate that held a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon and hash browns. A boringly white breakfast for a anything but boring white family. Typical. No one spoke to Connor, and they knew better to do it at such an early time of day, he was high, and his mother was tired of lecturing him over and over about it. God bless her soul, but Connor couldn't be happier to have her finally give up trying to teach Connor the ways of 'not doing pot at all'.
There was possibly other methods of easing away the anger he felt, but considering he wanted fast relief from all the toxic words, and gestures being thrown around, Pot seemed like the only way to survive such a terrible household. He hated everyone here except his mother, whom he only had a mild tolerance for. It's pathetically sad, and Connor had came a very long time go, to the acceptance of that fact. His family was god awful, and his mother was the only technical saving grace. Despite not being so great herself; The idea of Connor being mentally ill was beyond her, she didn't seem to get it through her head that Connor Murphy, her little angel boy, wasn't right in the head, and needed more than just 'mother's kisses'. He needed therapy, medication, something. But no, he stuck with a mother who was ignorant to the reality of his condition.
Sometimes, Connor felt the urge to give up and just leave this world. Let everything go into a blissful, beautiful sleep that did nothing but lull Connor into a sweet sense of calmness and tranquility. No feelings, no hardships, just the empty void of death and non-existing. As expected, he hasn't yet, there was definitely something that added to it. His family, and especially his school life. No one in that fucking building gave him a break, it was constant belittling and slurs directed at him. While being told to just ignore it and continue through, it's hard to do so when people would glare down at him, push him and even pull the childish move of throwing things at him during lunch and class when the teachers weren't looking. While everyone was terrified of him, they also in a tragic way, weren't. Weren't afraid enough to leave him alone, but were definitely terrified enough to take the time to get to know him.
It was a breath of fresh air when a little someone came into his life just for a night, and listened quietly. Too bad it felt more like a dream rather than the beginning of a better life for Connor.
Before his family could ruin the day before it began (They already had a running start), he had grabbed his bag and started heading to school earlier than Zoe. He felt the judging glares of his sister and father burning at his scalp but he ignored it with his admittedly high as hell head held high with stubborn pride and refusal to be brought down by those peachy happy shitstains. Riding the school bus was a definite no, unless he wanted to taste the beautiful hell of students taking turns in attempting to trip him, throw books and trash at him, and even one point, shoving their used gum in his hair. For a building of soon-to-be-adults, there was a lack of fucking adults. Connor ignored them usually, but today, he'll be taking a stroll; Letting the cool breeze of the ending summer hit him like a metal bat, a fresh reminder than yes, school was happening and if he wanted to get past it, he should've gotten a bit more high. However, getting more high would've probably made him unable to do anything except breathe and stare at nothing with a zombie expression on his face. Avoiding getting called into the office and having the police called on him for substance use isn't exactly a peachy way to spend the first day of school.
His family doesn't live very far from his dump of a High School, at most it was just a 15 minute stroll through the neighbourhood, enjoying the sweet sweet sound of children hating their day already. The bus past him a few minutes back, and he saw the eyes already landing on him, the words on their lips, Connor could practically hear it. His eyes landed on the concrete ground, and his feet continued to walk even if they were slowing down. In the pockets of his sweater, his hands clenched into a tight ball, nearly breaking skin before he took that out onto his lower lip, bitting onto to it harshly. It's hard putting up the image of a kid who's suffering from apathy, and while this does piss him off greatly, the teasing, the lack of sympathy for him in anyone, it's also incredibly... Painful.
Zoe never rode the bus to school, fucking Larry drove her before heading to work himself; Larry never offered a ride to Connor, solely to Zoe, and if Connor dared ask to join, he'll get a swift glare and told he was man enough to walk the 15 minutes; Through fogs, blizzards, ice on the sidewalks, heatstroke inducing days, yes. Connor was definitely able to walk those 15 minutes because his penis gives him the ability to passively generate heat during the cold days and coolness during the hot days. Fucking brilliant Larry.
The blatant child favoritism that was strongly going on here was nothing compared to how it was before, even now it died down but what really peaked it's highest was in Grade sixth. Connor hates thinking or even just mentioning the Sixth grade, his life fucked him hard during that year, nothing went right, and everything just blew up harshly on his face leaving a scar that will never go away. With a deep breath, he stepped into the school building and made his way to his locker; The lights were somewhat flickering, considering the school couldn't bother to replace it during the summer, the first day of school is usually the worse for it. Lights sometimes don't work, and teachers tend to be absent from not being back yet, or other means. Connor especially hated the first day of school because beyond being a freshman, he had to see the new freshmen being told by their upperclass men that 'oh that Connor Murphy'. The looks on their faces twisted into something disgusted and rather unnerved by.
He walked past them, his head down low, staring at the ground as he walked forward; Ignore them, he'll always tell himself. Ignore them and they'll get the hint and leave him alone for once. That never happened, and he wondered if that would seriously work now. Connor feels the eyes of the student body glaring at him as he walked down the halls of his school toward his locker. Of course, the mindless drabble of the students did annoy him, but it was all just momentarily of the year. Once he's out of High School, all of this harassment was gone, a free man he'll be from Larry and everyone else that found it amusing to torment someone who relatively did nothing but defend himself from attackers and suffer from severe case of bipolar and anger issues. Unknowingly, he already came to the conclusion he was just a fan target to these people because all they want is a reaction and because of his struggle with his temper, that's all he could give.
Reactions.
"Hey Connor!"
A voice cut through the thick air of the halls, and he turned to notice a familiar shit eating grin of a student that was relentless on their teasing before running off from his angry fits of rage from teasing.
"I like the whole school shooter esque look you're going for." Jared snorted as he covered his mouth to keep from laughing. Connor remained to have a neutral look on his face, staying still for a moment, such a lame, overrused tease like that more annoyed him rather than get him offended or downright furious.
"It's just a joke," Jared tried to say as though it was enough to warrant an excuse.
"Oh no, I'm laughing so much Jared. Am I not laughing hard enough for you?!"
"You're such a low tempered freak," Jared commented before scurrying off to class. Connor inhaled sharply through his nose before punching the nearest wall beside him. He hated how right Jared was. He was a low tempered freak, that all he was. Nothing more, nothing less. A tall ass freak of nature with a short temper that made it impossible for anyone to even tolerate his existence. His lower lip was bitten beyond all hell, and he just continued walking to his locker in a pissed off manner, gripping onto his satchel before reaching the familiar number that was screwed on top of his locker. All the people near his locker already ditched, they knew that once he came, they had to get out quick. Why? Because it's Connor fucking Murphy and no one wants to be around him of all people, nooo. He hated this stupid school, he hated everyone in it, and the only good person he thought he met, he doesn't know where he is. At all. Ever since that one day last year, Connor held onto his stupid letter, and admittedly, while during some harsh times he would read it over.
The memories of that day would flood back, and he'll feel... Happy.
Someone didn't run away from him, someone sat down and tolerated his mere existence. Connor felt normal for the first time since Sixth grade, and the only proof he had that none of it was a dream was a crumbled letter, that held the faded name of Evan Hansen. This basically put the twerp on a pedestal that he definitely wasn't aware of, but Connor? The image of someone actually not being like everyone else, and giving him a chance, as himself, not Zoe or a Murphy, was a slice of heaven that he was afraid was tainted by everyone else here making sure everyone knew that Connor Murphy was a dead son of the bitch walking. Some would have to wonder if Larry paid everyone here to give Connor a hell of a time because he doesn't want to be the stereotypical son that Larry wanted. Everything seems to fall into place, one elaborate joke on Connor Murphy for thinking that he could have a good existence, Ha.
Fuck you.
At least, that's what it felt like.
Enough moping around, Connor shoved the letter that he in his pocket into the locker where it was safe and to be picked up later while dropping off some not really needed notebooks. He's not going to be learning but might as well be prepared for whatever he wanted to do in the classrooms, like drawing or writing down stuff on his mind. With a slam, he closed the metallic locker door and started heading towards first period, English 4. A good class to fall asleep in, seeing as he always tends to pass the year with grades that were passable for someone like him, besides, first day? Shouldn't hold that much of a well, anything. At most, he'll be tasked with writing down a list, at least, a do nothing day. His thoughts, however, were lost as he felt something small slammed against him and fall onto the ground as he tumbled back for a moment before glaring down with a mighty made expression.
That was before he immediately softened up. The little sparks of excitement popped in the back of his mind as he stared down the man that had seemingly disappeared from his life completely. The man that Connor had put up on a pedestal so high, he was worried that guy would've hit Saturn with his head. The way his dirty blonde hair curled seemingly perfectly, and some strands finding it's way onto his forehead in a cute way, or how the freckles that ran across his face seemed to have lighten up with a slight flush colour, lets not forget his hazel brown eyes that seem to have stared into him with a look of wonder and fear; Everything was rather breathtaking. A piece of work, strung together by careful hands and everything seemed to be a little too perfectly. It was but a moment that passed, but that moment had his heart pounding, and his face struck with sudden warmth.
"Evan Hansen." Connor breathed out as he seemingly forgot how to speak and breathe at the same time. Evan didn't stop staring up at him with such fear, he just stood up quickly, gathering the fallen books that just littered the floor. The words that came out of his mouth strung together an apology, and only that just made Connor's chest tighten in a way that felt so foreign to him. What was happening, Connor couldn't exactly say.
"Evan.. I-" He was cut off with Evan running off with a whimper barely leaving his lips as he dashed away, seemingly to class. A stunned Connor stood silently in the hall for a moment, another, and another became three more. With only the sound of his drumming heart to a beat too fast for him to even process, Connor took a shaky first breath after a while, and ended up leaning against a row of lockers that weren't really his. What the hell was that? He thought to himself.
Another deep breath, and he headed into the bathroom to wash his face. At worse, he'll skip the period, at best, he'll head there before the bell rings.
One thing was for sure though, all the anger that boiled from the morning to now seemed to have faded away.