Chapter Text
Evan clicked 'Print' on the upper corner of his laptop. “Dear Evan Hansen,” it read, “Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year…”
It’s not how the letter was supposed to go. Evan knew that. He knew that, but he wasn’t able to say anything amazing about the day ahead because nothing would ever feel amazing. It was all scary or blank. Evan wondered if he would ever feel amazing ever again. He wondered if anyone cared that it wouldn’t.
“So. Uh... What happened to your arm?”
Evan turned around, because who on Earth would ask such a thing?
And Evan was utterly shocked to find Connor Murphy’s lanky frame standing before him. He looked timid, almost, his hand gripped to the strap of his messenger bag. Oh, God, he just asked me a question and here I am just staring at him like an ABSOLUTE freak―
“Oh, I, um… I f-fell out of a tree, actually.”
“Fell out of a tree?”
“Yeah.” Evan’s voice was a raspy whisper. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, staring at the ground. The fabric was worn from where his finger rubbed over the exact spot, over and over.
“Well, that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god.” Connor grinned a little, rocking back and forth on his boots.
Evan laughed nervously, fiddling with his shirt again, “I know.”
There was a silence, then. Connor stepped forward a bit and pointed at Evan’s arm. He opened his mouth to say something, but his jaw hung open for a moment, empty. He swallowed and tried again.
“Um, no one’s… No one’s signed your cast.”
“O-oh, I know.”
“Well, I’ll sign it.”
Evan looked up from the ground and into Connor’s eyes. He saw a vulnerability, hidden but familiar. So, so familiar. You know, Evan thought, he probably just feels sorry for me because no one cares enough to sign my stupid cast anyway and it’s my own fault I have a cast because I'm so stupid―
“Oh, you, you don’t have to,” Evan gave a brief and polite smile, his voice getting soft.
Connor shrugged, “Do you… have a sharpie?” Evan nodded, slowly, fumbling through his pocket for the marker his mom had given him that morning. He didn’t actually think anyone would use it. At least it’ll make Mom happy, I’ll look less like a friendless loser who―
“Ow,” Evan grimaced as Connor jerked his arm to write.
“Shit, sorry.”
Evan shook his head, grabbing his shirt and toying with it again. Evan watched as Connor wrote his name in what had to be the most massive letters imaginable. His name just…took up the entire cast.
“Oh, great. Thanks.” Evan said feebly.
Connor nodded, closing the sharpie and glancing at his boots, “Yeah, well, now we can both pretend that we have friends.”
Evan looked at Connor and wondered for a moment why Connor approached him in the first place. Why would he care about me? Why would he be nice to someone like me?
“That’s, ah... good, good point.” Evan walked over to the printer to retrieve his letter, but the printer was empty. Oh, oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no―
“Is, is this yours? I found it on the printer,” Connor squinted, holding the page in one hand and tucking his hair back with the other, “It’s, uh, ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ that’s your name, right?”
Evan reached for the paper, stuttering, “Oh, oh, yeah, no, it’s just a stupid, it’s just this thing, this, this paper. I had to write, it’s-it’s for an assignment, because there’s―”
“Zoe?”
There was a horrible pause.
“Uh, is… this about my sister?”
Evan felt his voice falter, “No, nonono―”
“You wrote this because you knew that I would find it,” Connor voice went quiet, "Yeah, you, uh, saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab so you wrote this and printed it out so I would find it.”
“W-why would I do that?”
“So I would read some freaky shit you wrote about my sister and fREAK OUT, RIGHT? T-then, then YOU COULD TELL EVERYBODY THAT I’M CRAZY, RIGHT?”
“N-no, I would―”
“FUCK YOU.” Connor stormed off, bursting through the library doors. Evan followed, hands trembling and sweating and swollen. He stumbled close behind, begging Connor to turn around, to stop for just a moment.
"Oh, no, please, nonono, please I need, need that back, I need it back. I can e-explain, p-please. CONNOR PLEASE IT’S NOT FOR YOU IT’S FOR MY THERAPIST, PLEASE.” Evan crumpled to the linoleum floor, tears bubbling onto his cheeks. He’s gonna read my letter and know how much of an ugly, broken freak I am and he’s going to tell Zoe, and they’ll laugh at me, they’ll laugh, the whole school will laugh and hate me and think I’m a disgusting freak―
“Therapist? What the fuck are you talking abo―are you crying?”
Evan shook his head violently, trembling on the floor. The tears seeped through the cracks in his fingers and plopped onto the floor. Evan felt wet and slimy and gross.
“You… I… this really wasn’t to fuck with me?”
Evan shook his head even harder, choking on sobs.
“I’m, Jesus, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know.”
“I-i-it’s ok-okay,” Evan blubbered, his entire body shaking and trembling and sweating. God, why did he sweat so much? He felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs weren’t working anymore. Oh my god, I’m going to suffocate and drown I’m going to drown in my own sweat and that’s so pathetic why can’t I breathe I can’t breathe―
“Evan! Evan, hey, listen to me. I need you to breathe slower, okay? You’re making yourself freak the fuck out. You’re not going to die, okay? You can have the weird letter back, it’s going to all be fine, right?”
Evan nodded mindlessly. He kept his eyes tightly shut, trying to slow his breathing down, remembering his therapist’s instructions. Breathe in for 7, hold for 3, breathe out for 11…
After what felt like hours, Evan could breathe again, and he finally opened his eyes. Connor was kneeling right in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed.
“You good?”
Evan nodded, trying to swallow, but his mouth was sand. He tried to shift to his feet, but his limbs were wobbly and weak, and his arm slipped. He nearly faceplanted the floor when Connor grabbed his shoulders.
“Gotcha. Here, grab my hand. Don’t try standing so fast.” Evan reached for his hand tentatively, thinking about how wet and slobbery his hand must be. Connor grabbed it anyway and hoisted him up, not saying a word. Didn’t he notice my hand was sweaty and teary and snotty? That’s so gross, he must think I’m so gross―
“Let’s go clean you up, okay?”
Connor held on to Evan’s hand.