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There were many unexpected things in Evan’s life. Being born, for instance, was unexpected. On a list of unexpected things in his life, being born was the one that topped the list, and that included the time he was told he was actually quite good at singing, and the other time where he was cast as the lead in the Christmas show, before dropping out because the thought of performing made him cry.
Actually, scratch that. Being born was not as unexpected as Connor Murphy showing up at his house at half past nine on a Wednesday evening, yelling at Evan to come down and come for a ride with him.
That was very unexpected.
“Evan Hansen, I know you’re home! I’m not going to do anything to you!” Which, Evan thought, was something someone who was going to do something to him would say.
Maybe this was over the letter. Maybe Connor Murphy had reread the letter and decided that murdering Evan or at the very least severely injuring him to the point of hospitalisation was the right course of action to take for someone who had a crush on his sister, even if he had signed Evan’s cast earlier.
He’d probably break Evan’s other arm. Maybe he’d sign that cast as well. Mark his claim. A girl in his English class did ask if Connor was the one who broke his arm, and that was before he had even signed it, so maybe people would take the fact Evan’s cast had Connor’s name on it to be a sign that Connor did break his arm, and -
“Your bedroom light is on! I know you’re in! I can do this all night!”
Not for the first time that night, he peeked through the curtains to check and yep, Connor Murphy was still there, leaning against his surprisingly nice car (it was red, had fewer dents than he expected, and looked like it cost more than Evan’s house), hair half tied back, and hands cupped around his mouth.
“I can see you!” he yelled, and that was enough to send Evan scrambling back from the curtains and grabbing for his phone, which was charging by the side of his bed and had a few unread texts from his mom that he probably should answer, but was far too preoccupied to.
Hand shaking, he somehow managed to text Jared. ‘Connor Murphy is outside my house.’
Jared’s response was… less than helpful, and probably what Evan should have expected in the first place.
‘dw ur eulogy is already written + ill take over as ur replacement’
‘in case heidi is too sad’
‘+ p sure we can help cover ur funeral costs as well’
‘++ n i dont call u acorn in the eulogy so dw bout that either’
‘Why are you so sure of my death?’ he sent, sighing as he did so.
‘bc connor murphy is outside ur house fam’
Oh. Right.
“Evan! I’m not afraid to throw rocks!” Connor yelled again, and maybe it was the idea of Connor throwing rocks and potentially breaking a window which honestly they couldn’t afford to replace at the moment because back to school supplies always cost a lot more than they thought they would and even then half the pens Evan was using were found lying around the house but replacing a window would definitely cost a lot that made Evan finally open his window and look out properly.
“Fucking finally! Come down here!” Had anyone called the police yet? Someone yelling at a house seemed like a reason for neighbours to call the police.
“Wh-What do you want?” he half yelled, trying his best to swallow down the churning in his stomach and ignore the sweat on his palms. There was a moment where he thought he was much too quiet for Connor to hear, and that maybe he should yell again, but louder, but then the neighbours really would call the police then and he wasn’t really in a place where the police being called would go well, and then Connor was yelling at him again.
“Come for a ride with me!”
Well. Well.
“A-Are you high?” Evan yelled, and immediately blinked. Connor kept staring at him. “I-I mean, uh, not i-in that sense, well, yes, actually in that sense, I just d-don’t think you should be driving if you’re -”
“Not right now?” Connor called up, shrugging as he did so. “What’s stopping you?”
“It’s late!”
“It’s half past nine!” He paused, and then sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who goes to bed at ten!”
Evan was, in fact, one of those people who went to bed at ten. Mostly because his medication at the moment made it harder to go to sleep, so going to bed at ten was the only way to ensure he had some sleep, but that was better than his old medication that made him too drowsy to even stay awake in class. Jared made fun of him for that for a while.
“Ah, is - is this, um, is this about Zoe?” he asks, but Connor was already shaking his head, though one of his fists were clenched.
“It won’t be if you don’t make it," he called. “C’mon, I just want to go for a ride with you. I won’t - I’ll get you home before one AM. Midnight, even, if you’re that worried about it. I promise. Come on.”
“Why?”
Connor paused for a moment, just staring up at Evan. Nothing more than a shadow in the night, really, yet Evan could feel Connor’s gaze on him, searching his face. Or maybe he wasn’t looking at Evan directly, maybe he was looking past Evan, or just over his shoulder, or looking at the roof.
Maybe he had his eyes closed. Maybe he wasn’t looking at anything.
“Because while you’re scared shitless of me, you don’t actively hate my guts, unlike some people I can mention!” he ended up yelling. “Just - come on? Ride with me?”
Evan thought for a moment. He thought of the fact that for all he knew, Connor was still pissed over the letter. He thought about the fact that his mom would still be working for a long while, and he could probably go out and come back without her knowing. He thought about the chance that he shift would end early tonight, and that she’d come back and he wouldn’t be there.
Evan wasn’t great at taking risks. He over-thought too much to really take any. Or sometimes, he would take risks, because his mind was going too fast for him to realise that it was a risk.
He was already closing his window and grabbing his phone.
The charge was on 86%, which wasn’t perfect, but it would do. He didn’t really creep down the stairs, he had no reason to, but he still took it slow, trying not to make any sound, even as he grabbed a coat that may have been his mom’s and wormed his trainers on. He had to unlock and relock the door, because knowing the door was locked was one of the ways that made it easier for him to sleep at night, and hide the keys under the plant pot because what if he lost them and then he couldn’t get back and neither could his mom and if they couldn’t afford to replace a window then they certainly couldn’t afford to pay a locksmith to get back into the house.
Connor was still leaning against his car when Evan walked over, but he was smiling, soft and maybe with a little bit of a smirk, hands no longer around his mouth but in his hoodie pockets.
“Took you long enough,” he said, shaking his head. “C’mon.”
This isn’t happening, Evan thought to himself as he gets into the passenger seat. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep before ten and now he’s dreaming that Connor Murphy was taking him for a drive around town before probably, most likely, brutally murdering him with a baseball bat. Or a sack of bricks. Maybe he’d crash the car with Evan in it like some kind of murder-suicide.
“Evan. Ev-van.” He blinked, and looked over at Connor, who was gazing him, no longer smiling, looking more bemused than anything. “You gonna actually put on your seatbelt? I thought you’d be one of those like, car safety fanatics.”
Evan just nodded and looked away as he buckled up. His palms were starting to sweat again, and maybe he shouldn’t be in this car when he sweats so much, but he couldn’t tell Connor he sweats too much, because then Connor would probably yell at him again for that, and honestly, the amount his stomach was churning, he wouldn’t really be able to take Connor yelling at him, because when Connor yelled, he yelled a lot and -
“Do you have any music requests?” Evan startled, heart pounding in chest, but shook his head. “Good, because I have like, three CDs in here, and I don’t know how to actually hook up phones to the speaker system. I shouldn’t even have this car yet. It’s meant to be my 18th birthday present, but y’know, fuck my dad’s stupid rules. I have a license, I have a car, I’m gonna drive it.”
Evan nodded and looked out the car window as Connor started the car, some music he vaguely recognised starting up. Say something, he willed himself. You can’t just sit in his car all silent all night, because that’s weird, and he already thinks you’re weird because of the letter - does he still have the letter? I still want that letter back, but I can’t ask for that outright, that’s too rude, and I’ve still not said anything, say something, say something, say something -
“Why are you doing this?” he blurted out, except the words jumbled together, so it sounded a lot like a cacophony than a coherent sentence, but Connor just glanced at him. “I - I mean, I already asked this, I know I did, but why me, you say it’s because I don’t hate you, but that - I can’t be the only one who doesn’t hate, I mean, I mean, there’s -
“Chill, Hansen,” he replied, pulling out onto the street. “It’s the same reason I signed your cast. So we can pretend to have friends.”
“Oh.” Evan swallowed, his throat feeling dry, and sore, and closed in on itself. He unclenched his fist - when did he clench them? - so they lay flat against his thighs (or best as his left arm could, given it was wrapped in plaster), and would maybe sweat less. “Oh.”
And then they sat in silence. Evan balled his hands backs into fists so he couldn’t bite his nails. He was starting to recognise the music, or at least the singer. Fall Out Boy, something Jared would play sometimes. One of their earlier albums, he thought.
A few moments passed.
His cast was starting to itch again.
He started counting streetlights as they passed the car window.
The music was starting to hurt his ears, but it was Connor’s car.
“We’re going to McDonald’s for coffee,” Connor announced, jolting Evan from his thoughts.
“W-wait, what?” He almost grabbed the handle above the door. Almost. His heart was still hammering in his chest. His palms were sweating again, he knew it.
“If you’re in bed by ten, you’re gonna be falling asleep in half an hour.” Connor sighed, turning left. “You need coffee to stay awake.”
“I - I didn’t - I don’t - money -” Evan tried, but Connor waved him off, eyes still on road.
“It’s less than five bucks for the two of us, I’ll cover it,” he said, and Evan could see the bright yellow glare of the McDonald’s sign.
“Y-You don’t ha-have to, I mean, I’m not not for coffee, but I - I don’t need it now, you know? Like it would be h-helpful, I’m n-not saying that it won’t be, I j-just don’t think it’s necessary to buy me coffee and - and I, uh, I don’t know when I’ll be a-able to pay you back, s-so there’s that and honestly I’m not th-that bothered about staying up and -”
“Welcome to McDonald’s, may I take your order?” a monotone borderline robotic voice asked from Connor’s side.
“Yeah, can I get two large coffees?” Connor asked, before glancing at Evan again. “You want anything to eat?”
Evan shook his head, lips clamped tight together. He was sweating too much. He was talking too much. Everything was too much.
“And nothing else.”
“That’ll be $2.98,” the voice replied. “Pull up to the next window to pay.”
As they did so, Connor sighed, shaking his head as he glanced at Evan.
“If you’re nervous,” he said, starting to drive to the next window, “there’s pot in the glove box. I mean, I won’t take any, but if you want it, you can have it.”
“Ah - Ack -” Evan choked on air, his face flushing and turning hot, his throat feeling tight, and dry. “I - I do-don’t, I mean, th-they wanted to try me with it, b-but like, I - I don’t really want to smoke it, and like, i-it’s cool that you do it, but it’s not my thing, a-and I don’t want to risk having a bad reaction to it, but like, but like I don’t -” Was it just him, or was the air hotter, stuffier than it was before?
“Breathe, Evan. Evan - Evan, chill, calm.” He had never really noticed Connor’s voice before. It was softer than he thought it was. “Look at me for a moment, yeah?”
So Evan did. Connor was - he looked different, in this light, not quite visible, not quite gone. He wasn’t as harsh, maybe. He was trembling, a little, maybe fidgeting, the edges of his half-silhouette not quite still. He wore nail polish, Evan realised, black and slightly chipped, yet his nails looked like they were chewed on, all jagged around the edges.
“I’m not pressuring you into taking it, yeah? I just thought it’d help you to relax, which y’know, I get it, you’re with the guy voted most likely to be the school shooter, as Jared likes to remind everyone, so that’s not easy, but like…” He fell silent, pursed his lips. “Let’s not have this conversation in a drive-thru, yeah? Let’s get coffee and like, sit in the car park for a bit? Then we’ll go to the park or whatever.”
Evan swallowed, and nodded. He counted to ten.
“Y-Yeah,” he said, and he smiled. Or tired to. It didn’t come out exactly like a smile should. “That’s fine.”
And he thought, that for just a moment, Connor smiled back.
“Let’s get some coffee then,” he said, and then he was driving them up to the window, paying the worker who honestly looked high herself, and then collecting their coffees from the last window and handing one to Evan. It was definitely warmer than he’d thought it be, almost too hot, but it would cool.
They didn’t really talk for a while, as they sat in Connor’s car in a McDonald’s car park, CD still playing as they just sipped at the coffee. And Evan felt...okay, for once. Not perfect, but for once, he didn’t feel like he had to scramble to fill the silence like he had to with Jared.
“What’s your favourite song?” Connor asked when Evan was halfway through his coffee. “Like, I’m sure I can use McDonald’s wifi to get it up, just so you’re not stuck listening to my shit all night.”
“O-Oh, um, I, ah -” Evan coughed, and clutched his drink. “I don’t really l-listen to music? Like I do, obviously, but like, I-I don't have a favourite band or song because I mostly listen to in-instrumental st-stuff, not that’s there anything wrong with n-non instrumental stuff, b-but I-I just find it easier to listen to stuff like that, mostly because a l-lot of it is kinda soothing and repeats a lot and - and, yeah.”
He was kinda hoping something would cut him off again. His heartbeat wouldn’t keep still.
Connor raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling, chuckling a little. “You talk a lot, don’t you?”
“J-Jared says I talk a lot but say little,” Evan muttered, flushing red and sipping at his drink
“Yeah, well, fuck Jared.” Connor shrugged, drinking his own coffee. “How are you even friends with him?”
“We’re n-not really friends,” Evan explained. “We-We’re like, family fr-friends? S-So not like friend-friends, but we know each other and talk to each, and like, apparently talking to m-me means he gets his car insurance paid? Wh-which is good, because he’s a v-very shi- very bad driver, so, ah, th-that’s that. Not real friends.”
There was silence, and Evan thought, for just a moment, that he had fucked something up.
“Man,” Connor said at long last, sighing. “Jared’s a dick. Like, I knew that but - using you for fucking car insurance? That’s just. That’s just low, man.”
“I - I think he was joking?” Evan offered. “L-Like I know his mom, and she w-would threaten that, but I d-don’t think it would be me sp-specifically he had to talk to, I think it might be friends in - in general he has to talk to, but um. Yeah.” He swallowed. He started playing with the plastic lid cup. “Wh-What’s your favourite song?”
“My favourite song?” There it was again, the light chuckle to his voice again.
“Yeah, uh, yeah.” Evan looked at Connor, noticed that he had taken down his hair from his earlier half-ponytail and that he looked nicer. With it down. With him smiling. “I-I mean, you asked for mine, so it’s only f-fair to ask for yours, isn’t it?”
Connor hummed for a moment, like he was considering it, and Evan noticed how his fingers kept tap-tap-tapping on the steering wheel, slow and steady, like a second heartbeat.
“Pass me that CD that’s in the glove box, will you?” he asked. “There’s only one case in there - and the weed won’t hurt through a bag, you don’t get high via contact with it.”
“I know that much,” Evan muttered as he reached for the glove box, opening it with his good hand. “Give me some credit.”
He found the CD easily, given it was the one noticeable object in there besides the bag of weed and a bottle of… something labelless, but looked like Evan’s pill bottles. The car went quiet as Connor ejected the current CD and Evan took the new one out of its case and passed it to him. There was still a few moments of silence as Connor inserted the CD into the player, and skipped the first few tracks.
“Recline the seat all the way back,” Connor told him. “It’s better if you lay down and think about nothing when listening it.”
So Evan did as he was told, holding still his coffee cup as best he could with a cast, reclining the seat until he was staring up at the grey fuzz that was the car’s ceiling, and waited for the music to start.
‘It’s all a game of this and that, now versus then - better off against worse for wear...’
And he tried to think about nothing. He tried to just listened to the music, tried to not focus on anything except the guitar and the singer’s voice.
‘And! You’re someone who knows someone who knows someone I once knew - I just want to be a part of this…’
He liked it. He liked the song a lot. Well, he liked what he heard so far. Liked how it felt in his head.
‘So hum hallelujah! Just off the key of reason - I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light.’
Liked the lyrics. Liked the fact Connor decided to share it with him.
Liked that it made him feel - almost normal.
‘A teenage vow in a parking light, ‘til tonight do us part; I sing the blues and swallow them too…’
Some of Evan’s pills were blue. He couldn’t remember the name of them.
And then he stopped thinking. It was like a switch was flipped in his mind, and then there was nothing. Like all of a sudden he was pushed into liminal space, just allowed to exist for a bit.
Sometimes, existing was the hardest thing to do.
Other times, existing was just enough.
Listening to Fall Out Boy in Connor Murphy’s car made existing a little easier than normal. Because all he had to do was listen.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“Here, Evan,” Connor said, as the song fell into hums of hallelujahs, and when Evan turned to look at him, he was holding up his coffee cup. “A toast, to us. ‘til tonight do us part.”
“The song says vow,” Evan countered, but he raised his own cup, tapped it against Connor’s and Connor - Connor laughed.
“I'm not that committed, babe,” he said, as easily as anything thing else, and it felt just like a movie.
But it wasn't a movie. In movies, you get cut away from scenes, music over montage, fades and dissolves. In books, you get chapters, time skips, end of scenes. In real life, you don't.
In real life - in Evan’s life - you get the realisation that the song is over and you're lying down in a car belonging to a boy you barely know and who just called you babe. In real life, you get awkwardly resetting the car seats’ position and trying to make small talk. In real life, you have realising the moment is over.
“Wh- where should we go now?” he asked, because the silence seemed too - too thick, too wrong, too not enough to go on. Connor shrugged, now almost hunched over the steering wheel, fiddling with a strand of hair between his fingers.
“We said the park earlier,” he said, as though he didn't just call Evan ‘babe’. As though he wasn't shaking a little, though Evan didn't know from what. “So we might as well.”
“Okay,” Evan said, and he felt a sudden need to busy himself, so he grabbed his phone and unlocked it. “The park. That’s good.”
Now, because Evan went to bed at ten most nights, he had set his phone to go silent at roughly half nine, mostly due to the fact that he didn’t like going on his phone or laptop before bed, not since he read that the light from the screens made it harder to fall asleep.
This meant that after half nine, unless it was unlocked, his phone didn’t alert him to any texts.
This meant that at 10:19pm, he currently had twenty seven unread texts from Jared.
‘wait did u go with him’
‘evan fam i’m not saying its ur funeral but i dont wanna go to ur funeral u feel me???’
‘+ i know heidi doesn’t so like????’
‘r u still there’
‘evan’
‘evan robin hansen im ur friend u can’t ignore me’
‘e v a n r o b i n h a n s e n r e s p o n d’
‘u okay????’
‘i know u go to bed early but like. u tend to say when u do.’
The rest were all pretty much the same. Somewhere around the fifteenth text, Jared had resorted to simply sending multiple question marks, and the last text, sent five minutes ago, read ‘if u dont respond by half past im gonna call the police + heidi bc this isnt u. hope ur okay’.
‘I’m okay,’ Evan sent, hands trembling because anything else just felt. Bad.
He was bad.
Jared’s reply came as soon as Evan hit send, it seemed. ‘oh thank god ur here’
He had to swallow. His left fingers were drumming on his thighs, and he wasn’t sure if he found it comforting or annoying. Maybe it was annoying Connor. ‘Why didn't you call?’
‘bc like. u don't like talking on the phone. i may be a shit friend but i remember that much bout u’
What do you say to that?
‘oh. sorry’. That seemed safe. It was - it was Evan-esque, at least.
“What are you reading?” Connor asked, and only now did Evan realised that they were parked at, well, the park. The town was always smaller than he thought. Or maybe it felt bigger because he didn’t have a place in it. You never get lost in small places. Only big ones.
“J-Jared.” Paused. Swallowed. Tucked his phone away. “Jared was just checking up on me.”
“Awful lot of texts for just ‘checking up on you.” What was his tone? It was low, that much was clear, but Evan couldn’t figure out much else.
“H-he was just. Worried.” Sometimes talking was easy. A lot more times it felt like the words were more cotton wool than anything, caught in his throat and mouth and having to be forced out before they choked him.
“Yeah. Okay, sure.” Connor sighed. “Well, we’re here. Let’s go for a walk or something.”
Evan nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice, and the next thing he knew, they were walking in the park, which wasn’t really funded enough for a lot of street lights, so they had to stick to the path, and Connor was walking closer to Evan than he expected, their arms almost brushing and it was -
- it was nice. In a weird way. That kind of squirmy, not bad not perfect but nice way.
He liked it.
Well. Liked it until Connor started talking.
“Did you know,” he began, and Evan thought he was going to follow it up with a video game fact or something about the park, “that most suicides aren’t planned?”
Now, Evan wasn’t the type to say ‘what the actual fuck?’ out loud, but he certainly felt it, deep down in his soul.
Connor continued as though it was a perfectly normal conversation, and maybe it was to him. “Most of it is just someone's brain telling them 'hey, let's swallow a bunch of pills' or 'just drive off that bridge, no one will miss you'. And they do it, because they have a shitty brain or a shitty day and it just seems easier at that moment than, y’know. Living.”
Evan did know that. And it sort of scared him that Connor did.
He didn’t plan to let go. He didn’t start out the day thinking ‘well, today is the day I’m going to off myself, and I’ll do it while I’m at work’. It seemed simple. Climbing a tree and letting go.
He wasn’t himself, that day. Dissociated. Fugue state. Something like that.
Still. As far as Connor knew, he had just fallen.
“N-No,” he said, because that was easier than admitting it. He didn’t look at Connor either, because that was easier.
Connor hummed, as though he was expecting that answer. “How did you break your arm?”
“I t-told you,” Evan said. “I fell out of a tree.”
“Yeah, and while that’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve heard, I don’t think you’re that sad.” It was a Jared kind of insult, that. One that had a compliment in there somewhere, you just had to go dumpster diving to find it.
“Well, it's the truth,” Evan told him, and that was that. They kept walking in the park, Evan’s head forward and straight, lips pressed together, and hands sort of clenched. And then Evan remembered the fact he didn’t really like silence, and then his palms started sweating and the back of his neck started tingling, and he had to remind himself to breathe breathe breathe you need ti breathe -
“Can we sit down?” he half gasped, and Connor looked at him, frowning, but still nodded, almost guiding him to the nearest bench and sitting down next to him.
“You okay?” Connor asked, still frowning. Evan nodded, trying hard not to look like a fish flailing on dry land as he tried to breathe.
“Will be,” he managed. He focused on his breathing, in-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
Just like that. Over and over again.
In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
“I didn’t mean,” Connor started as Evan’s breathing began to even out, before sighing and running his hand through his hair. “I just - I forget sometimes that people aren’t me, and don’t like talking about that shit.”
“It’s fine,” Evan said.
“Don’t say it’s fine,” Connor cut him off, frowning. “Like, not just to me. If someone upsets you, don’t tell them it’s fine. ‘Cause that’s how they never stop doing shit. It’s how you get people like Jared making stupid ass jokes all the time to people, because people tell them that it’s ‘fine’. Tell ‘em to like. Not do it again. Not that it’s fine.”
“It is fine though,” Evan told him. “I mean, it’s not your fault. You don’t -”
His heart froze.
He had almost told Connor Murphy the truth.
And he couldn’t. Couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell anyone. Even his mom still thought it was an accident. Even Dr. Sherman had somehow been conned into thinking it was an accident.
Connor Murphy would have been the only other person to know the truth if Evan hadn’t caught himself.
Evan wouldn’t even tell the truth to a dying man.
“I don’t what?” Connor asked over Evan’s eternal panic and then screeched as something small and very very fluffy barrelled into his legs. The next moment, said small and fluffy thing was on the bench, shoving its nose into Evan’s face and pressing its paws into his thigh as alarms blared in his head.
“Fuck’s sake, you little fluff ball, shouldn’t have someone have taken you in by now?” Connor asked, picking up the dog and placing it onto his lap, where it peered up almost mournfully at him.
“Uh - C-Connor? Do you know this dog?” Evan asked, and Connor shrugged.
“Kinda,” he said. “I used to see him with his owner all the time, but I guess she must have died or just… stopped being able to cope with him, because I don’t see her around anymore but he’s still here. I’d take him home, but Larry’s not big on pets. He didn’t even want a tank of fish for the living room.”
Evan peered closer at the dog in Connor’s lap. It was some kind of chihuahua mix, that much he could tell, with mostly black fur but white chest, snout and paws, almost like a tuxedo cat. Past all the fluff, he could see a purple collar, and…well. Not quite ribs. But it certainly didn’t look well fed or looked after.
“I think he recognises me because I come here a lot,” Connor said, scratching the dog just behind his ear. “I feed him, give him treats, play with him, that sort of thing. He's a good dog, just boisterous.”
As if to prove Connor’s point, the dog started to roll around his lap, legs thrown askew everywhere.
“T-They're meant to be good for that sort of thing, pets,” Evan said, braving a quick stroke of the dog’s belly, only to jerk his hand away at the thought of fleas.
Did Connor have fleas?
God, he hoped not.
“What thing?” Connor asked, apparently uncaring about the fact the dog was gnawing on his wrist. Maybe it didn’t really hurt him. He had very thin wrists beneath his sleeves, Evan realised. Then he realised he never saw Connor without long sleeves.
He forced away the implications of that from his mind.
“D-depression and suicidal thoughts,” he told Connor. “I-I read this article by a lady where she said the only reason she didn't kill herself was because she didn't have anyone to feed her cats.”
Connor nodded, almost absentmindedly. “See, that's what I meant earlier when I said most attempts aren't preplanned. Sometimes, the smallest shit just like. Steps in the way, and then they don't do it, because most of them think ‘holy shit I was about to die’ and go and get help. Or get better.”
‘Go and get help’. ‘Get better’. Evan would have laughed if it didn't feel like black treacle in his throat.
“He's a cute dog, isn't he?” he asked instead.
“Yeah,” Connor said, sighing. “I call him Roscoe in my head, but I dunno. Doesn't really seem to suit him any more. Maybe I’ll rename him.”
“C-Call him Connor Junior,” Evan suggested, smiling at Connor, and Connor…
Connor just stared straight ahead, even as Roscoe began to whine.
“Nah,” he said eventually, voice… cracking, and rough. “Nah, he deserves better than being named after me. Doesn’t deserve being named after fuck up.”
Evan often heard the atmosphere being described as being thick, thick enough to cut with a knife, oppressive in its mere existence.
That wasn't the case here.
The atmosphere was suspended, by fine spider’s silk, and he hated it.
Hated it, hated it, hated it.
So he did the only thing he could think to do.
“Let’s climb a tree!” he declared, jumping off the bench, startling Roscoe who jumped off Connor’s lap and ran to the bushes, and trying to smile at him, but it came off as more a grimace. Connor blinked twice, shaking his head, and looked Evan up and down, slowly raising an eyebrow.
“You have a broken arm?” he said, half mockingly, but at least he wasn't…
Well, at least he was the Connor Evan was used to.
“So?” He kept grinning. “There's lots of trees here, I bet we could climb at least one of them.
“An arm you broke climbing another tree.” His voice was flat now.
“Falling from a tree. There’s a difference.” Amazing, really, how he didn't even stutter through that lie. Maybe it did get easier.
“Evan.” Definitely flat. Definitely ‘I’m so fed up with this shit’. “I don’t think you should climb a tree.”
“Watch me.” And with that, Evan took off for the nearest tree he could see.
Ten minutes later, Connor was helping a hobbling Evan back to his car.
“I mean, I don't want to say I’m right,” Connor said, grinning to himself as he unlocked the car with his key fob. “But you have to admit, I was -”
“Shut it,” Evan mumbled, flushing bright red as he yanked the car door open. “You didn't even try to climb the tree.” He slammed the door behind him as he slid onto the seat, staring out the window.
“Because I didn't want to fall out of one,” Connor told him, sliding in the driver’s seat, grinning like a cat who got the cream, and the milk, and about ten mice. “Though I’ll give you this - you at least didn't break your other arm. May have bruised your tailbone, but hey, no need for the emergency room tonight.”
“I said shut it,” Evan almost hissed, checking his phone for any new texts and just finding a few from Jared (‘it’s chill fam dw bout it’ and ‘going to sleep but call me if u need to i mean it’).
“Aw,” Connor said, starting his car. “You told me to shut it. You've grown so much. I'm proud of you.”
“Don't,” Evan groaned, covering his face with his good hands. “My mom says that every morning and I just - ugh. I can't.”
Connor fell silent, except for his fingers, tap-tap-tapping on the steering wheel again.
“Does she?” he asked, voice still.
“Yeah,” Evan sighed. “I…she says it every morning. When all I’ve done is wake up and got dressed and like - that's not the hard part for me. I can wake up, I can get dressed, but I can’t - it's everything else that seems hard and - it just seems hollow, you know? Saying it when I’ve not done anything.”
“No,” Connor said, his voice small. “I don't.” Then he put the keys in the ignition and started the car and started to drive, and Evan realised he said too much, but the problem is that when you say too much, you can't say less, because words aren't numbers and you can take away numbers but you can't take away words you can only add words, so Evan kept quiet like he always found it best to do.
A few minutes passed.
Connor was just driving in circles, it seemed, because they had passed the park entrance twice.
“Tell me something I don't know,” Connor said at last, his voice still flat and still, but Evan still jumped.
“A-About what?”
“Fuck, I don't know,” Connor - Connor snapped. “Trees. You like trees, right? Tell me about trees.”
“R-Right, oh! So, a-ah um…” Evan swallowed, spreading his hands flat on his thighs and trying to ignore how much they were sweating. “Uh - pine trees, right, pine trees, th-they’re the only tree that reproduce v-via cones? A-And the cones a-are either male or female, s-so that’s uh. That’s something n-neat.”
Connor nodded, finally turning away from the park, still staring straight ahead. “Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know that. Something else. Something not about trees.”
“Oh-Oklahoma was the last state t-to m-make Christmas a legal h-holiday, and that was in 1907.”
“Something else.” Evan could hear Connor’s breathing, and he was still tapping on the wheel, even as he drove.
“‘Do geese see God’ is the same forwards and backwards,” Evan said, trying to steady his own beating heart. “A 10-pack of Juicy Fruit gum was the first item to have its barcode scanned. New Zealand was the last country to be actually discovered and inhabited by people, and like, the actual version of discovered, not ‘Europeans didn’t know about it’ discovered.”
Connor nodded, in the way someone did when they were listening but not really hearing. “Tell me something about you I don’t know,” he said, almost rasping, and Evan -
“I think I might be bisexual.”
Came out.
To Connor Murphy.
If he wasn’t so paralysed, he would have been trying to open the car door and flee into the night. Like a bat. Or a deer.
“Oh, are you?” Connor said, a light hum to his voice now. “Well, that's cool. I'm gay myself. Well. Ace. Ace and gay. That shit.” He paused. “Do you know what ace means in like, this context?”
“A-Asexual, right?” Evan asked, eyes focused on the world outside the car window. They were driving alongside a river now, like they were going to head out of town and go someplace else.
He couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with that happening or not.
“Yeah,” Connor said. And then, “I haven’t like. Told anyone else. So. You’re the first to know. I mean. I think my family suspects I’m not straight, but I’ve not like, done the whole coming out thing. I just - there’s no point, you know?”
“Y-Yeah,” Evan said, even though he didn’t. Not really. “I uh. You’re my first. As well.”
“Way to make it sound it se- wait, really?” Connor’s head whipped over to Evan, eyes almost boring into him as Connor frowned. “Not even Jared?”
“N-No,” Evan confirmed. “It - It’s just never come up, you know? A-And not to mention, h-he’s the type who’d a-ask how I figured out and I d-don’t want to ex-explain to him that he was, uh, a catalyst, if - if you get me.”
Connor was silent for a moment.
“You figured out you liked guys because of Jared fucking Kleinman?”
“H-He was cuter in middle school,” Evan muttered, flushing as Connor barked out a small laugh.
“Jared Kleinman? Cute? Oh god, oh babe, no. Just no.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road, sighing as undid his seatbelt. “Well, we’re here. You getting out?”
And Evan actually looked at where they were, and he realised. They were at Coward's Way Bridge.
Coward's Way Bridge had its name for two reasons. The first reason - the reason they told people - was that, historically, back during some war, it was used by the retreating enemy to escape whoever the good guys were. It helped that it used to be close to some orchard that closed years ago, and that it lead away from the nearest city. It wasn't even used that much today.
The other reason was… well.
For as long as Evan could remember, Coward's Way Bridge had been the spot for suicide in town. Or it used to be, before they installed suicide barriers when Evan was younger. It was how he had found out about suicide, actually, because they were talking about it on the radio and he asked his mom what suicide was, and she went very quiet and told him ‘it’s what not very happy people do, Evan, when life seems so bad they can’t see any happiness for a long time’.
It hadn’t made sense, back then.
Anyway, the suicide barriers had been installed for a while. So people didn’t kill themselves at Coward’s Way Bridge. Not anymore. Nowadays, people just killed themselves in their homes, or the park. So it got talked about less.
One of the main reasons Evan… used the method he did was because Coward’s Way Bridge wasn’t an option. That, and it was. Quicker. It seemed.
“Suit yourself then,” Connor huffed, slamming the car door shut behind him, which made Evan’s heart jump. By the time he had scrambled out of the car, Connor was already on the bridge, right in the middle, staring out over the river, fingers clutching at the fence.
“They won't install suicide barriers at the Golden Gate Bridge,” he murmured as Evan approached, scarcely audible over the sounds of the river. “Because they think it’ll ruin the view. Isn't that a laugh? Something could save so many lives - but because it's ugly, it isn't worth it.”
His fingers clenched around the fenced, knuckles turning white. Then he blinked, and shook his head, as though clearing his mind. His eyes were more alert, blinking more as he stared up at where the fence arched over towards the centre of the bridge.
“Do you think I could climb over this?” he asked. “I think I could.”
“Y-You could, but I - I -” Evan didn’t get to finish before Connor had began to climb the barrier, hauling himself up, both hands straining as he climbed, toes barely able to fit in the gaps.
“Connor,” Evan tried. “Connor, come down. Please.”
It was like the other boy hadn't even heard him. The suicide barrier was maybe just more than twice Connor’s height, including where it was angled inwards, and he just kept climbing.
And climbing.
And climbing.
Like he never wanted to come back down.
“Please, Connor,” Evan pleaded, his voice cracking. He felt hot all over, but that white, not-good cold-hot, the type that started at the back of his neck and spread. Sweat was trickling down his face, he could feel it, his palms were practically drenched. “Just - come down.”
Connor was at the top now, just before the barrier bent in, and he stilled. For a moment, it seemed like he was considering - considering letting go, fuck, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t, Connor Murphy was not as pathetic as Evan Robin Hansen -
And then Connor’s grip went, and he fell.
Time often didn’t work right for Evan, or maybe he just always had a bad sense of time. It was always too slow, seconds feeling like days as he tried to speak, or too fast, half an hour gone due to a panic attack. Now? Now time just seemed to skip entirely, because one moment, he was rushing to catch Connor, and the next, he and Connor were sat facing each other, Connor’s back against the barrier, almost curled in on himself, and Evan leaning close - too close, maybe, in a different situation - to him.
“Connor,” he tried, and the other boy almost snapped his head up to look at him, eyes wide, body shaking, trembling, and he looked so small. And broken.
Like he hadn't meant to do that.
Often, Evan thought, in life you have moments you can't return from. Like your dad leaving, for instance, or letting go and falling, or deciding to lock the box of pills because then you don't have to look at them and you still don’t really trust yourself.
Connor Murphy climbing the suicide barriers on Coward’s Way Bridge to throw himself off was one of those moments.
“Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked, though he wasn’t surprised when Connor shook his head.
“Just.” He paused, and shuddered. “You talk. About. About anything.”
“More facts?” Evan asked, and Connor shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. Just. Just talk.”
“O-Okay, well, so.” Evan paused, realising he was fiddling with his hands too much, but didn’t know how to stop without it being immediately obvious. “S-So me and Jared, we were, uh, we were in like, fourth grade? I-I think anyway, b-but like, anyway, i-it was gym class, but o-outside, and it was a v-very sunny day, so a-ah, Jared t-turns around to me and he just s-stops, and I ask him what’s wrong, and h-he just yells out in front of ev-everyone ‘You’ve got freckles!’ and ev-everyone turned to stare at us, a-and I had to explain to him that I always have freckles. N-next week, he was wearing g-glasses for the first time.”
Connor didn’t seem to react; he wasn’t motionless, the tremble was still there, but he was staring, not seeing, his lips murmuring inaudibly.
“Connor?” Evan tried, and the boy across from him blinked twice, but didn’t move aside from lifting his head, as though to better look at Evan.
“I just,” Connor began, before shuddering and shutting his eyes. “I just. My mind. It seemed like. I just. Good idea. Good thought.”
Evan nodded, taking Connor’s palm into his own hands. He traced the lines on it, wondering if palm reading really did work sometimes. His mom used to get done a lot, just after his dad had left, but not so much, now.
“Intrusive?” he asked, and Connor half-shook his head.
“Kinda,” he said. “More - more of an impulse. Not as bad as - as some thoughts get.”
“I get you,” Evan said, and this time, he sort of did. “I get you.”
“Tell me more?” Connor asked, his breathing still uneven, but better, a little bit better. “Please. T-Tell me about the first time you f-fucked a tree or something. Just. Keep talking.”
“W-Well, I’ve never fucked a tree, b-but I can tell you about the f-first time I broke my arm climbing a tree,” Evan said, and Connor did that sort of half-smile, like he was just okay with being for the time.
And that’s how they stayed for a while, with Evan talking to Connor, telling half-attempts at jokes that probably weren’t really funny, but made Connor chuckle at least. He told Connor some more stories from elementary school, back when he and Jared were friends-friends because friendship was still mostly about who your parents were friends with and not popularity back then. He even told him about the squirrel he had sort of befriended when he was working as a park ranger back in the summer.
Stuff Evan hadn’t told anyone else, really.
“I think,” Connor began after who knows how long, still shivering and voice jittering, but not as bad as before. “I think I can drive now. At least. If you keep talking.You - You have a nice voice.”
Evan flushed red, but managed to smile. “Th-thank you,” he managed, clutching Connor’s hands in his own, and standing up, pulling Connor up with him. “Are we gonna go somewhere else now?”
Connor shook his head, not letting go of Evan’s hand. “Let’s just drive around again,” he said, the his face scrunched up. “I probably need to get some gas, actually. So, the gas station?”
“Sounds good to me,” Evan said, relinquishing his grip on Connor’s hand. It felt weird, not having the warmth in his hand again. “Are you - okay, now?”
There was a pause, and Connor’s gazed wandered, from Evan’s face down to his hands, then his feet, and then slowly, slowly back up, until his baby blue eyes were almost boring into Evan’s own.
“Better,” Connor eventually said. “Not - I’m better. I think.”
And Evan nodded, and Connor gave an almost smile, and they went back to Connor’s car, like nothing had happened, like Connor hadn’t almost just almost tried to jump to his death, like he wasn’t having a hard time looking at Evan, like everything was normal.
It was an odd word, normal.
Connor’s normal and Evan’s normal were miles away from each other, and they were further still from someone like Alana Beck’s or Jared’s normal. Or someone who lived in Brazil, or Japan, or Germany.
Normal wasn’t social anxiety and having to take pills every morning just to function a little better. Normal wasn’t… wasn’t what Connor just did. Normal wasn’t whatever this - this night was.
Normal was -
Normal was -
“Hey.” Evan jolted at Connor nudging him, and turned to see him smiling - a soft, actual smile that looked good on Connor. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“I…I don’t know,” Evan said, blinking as he realised they were at Connor’s car already. When did that happen?”
“To find a world where no one would question his intention of crossing the road,” Connor told him, and Evan - didn’t laugh, not exactly, but snorted.
“That’s terrible,” he said, and Connor gave him a shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, I know. I have a bunch like it,” he said, splitting away from Evan and heading to the driver’s side. “Used to love jokes like that. Made my sister laugh all the time.”
Evan smiled, because he didn’t know what else to do, and climbed into Connor’s car, which smelt vaguely of lavender, he realised. Another moment, and then they were off again, silent for a moment as Connor began to drive off, waiting until they were away from the bridge to reach over to the radio and lower the volume.
“So, uh, what’s your family like?” Connor asked, gaze focused on the road ahead, loose strands of hair falling around his face. “You’ve mentioned your mom, but what about your dad?”
“Gone,” Evan said simply.
“Oh, fuck, oh shit, shit, Evan, I’m sorry, I -” Evan’s eyes widened as he realised what he said, and he started shaking his head frantically.
“N-No, not like that! He’s still alive! He just left, that all!” he explained, words rushing out and almost slurring together. “It’s - it’s okay, he’s still alive, I swear, he just lives in another state -”
“Oh thank god,” Connor sighed, settling back down into the car seat. “See, I can’t tell if you gathered this or not, but I’m kinda shit at comforting to people, and the only time I ever really dealt with family death involved me destroying the bench in the back yard with a baseball bat, so yeah.” He paused for a moment, and Evan noticed he was worrying his lip, like he wanted to say more. “So, just you and your mom at home?”
“Ye-Yeah,” Evan said. “When she’s there, at least. She’s a nurse’s aide, and she takes night classes, so, uh, it’s just me alone at home at lot. A-And, y’know, she doesn’t get it a lot, b-but she tries, e-even if it doesn’t work.”
For a moment, Connor was silent.
“Must be nice,” he commented at last, his voice strained.
“I-I guess,” Evan said, his fingers fidgeting together. “Wh-What’s, uh, what’s your family like? I - I mean, I know Zoe is your sister, but, uh, what about your parents?”
More silence, before Connor let out a long sigh.
“My dad’s a lawyer who spends a lot of time working to provide for us and my mom’s a stay-at-home housewife with nothing to do but attend yoga and some book club, and then there’s Zoe, who, y’know, is the star child of the family and the one relatives actually ask about, and it’s all very nice and very sitcom happy bullshit, and there’s me, the fuck up,” he said, strangely even as though he had given this spiel before to other people. “There. That’s the Murphy family. Back to the Hansens. Any siblings your not-dead-but-gone dad gave you?”
“Uh, some younger siblings, I think b-but I don’t - I don’t really know them? H-He lives in a different state, an-and the relationship is kinda more u-uncle-nephew than sibling I guess?” He felt hot again. Too hot. But Connor had the car heating on, so he couldn’t roll down the car window to get a breeze in. “Uh, what else?”
“What else?” No longer steady, Evan noticed.
“U-Uh, what else about your family?” Evan asked. In the distance, he could see the white glare of the gas station sign, and it sort of hurt his eyes, so he looked away.
“Well, not a lot else,” Connor huffed. “My dad’s parents are dead, and he was an only child. My mom’s family are alive, but live on the other side of the country so we only see them every other Christmas, and even then they’re not ‘close’.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
A few more moments passed, the gas station sign looming ever closer.
“A-Are you sure th-there isn’t more -”
“Fuck’s sake, just shut up!”
Next thing Evan knew, Connor swerved and pulled the car over to the side of the road, glaring down at Evan, almost growling.
“Just fucking shut up, okay?!” he screeched. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it!”
He fucked up.
“You want to know about my family? Well, here’s my parents - they’re too involved or too removed when it comes to me, and whatever it is at the moment, it all fucks over Zoe because she either has to over perform to get attention or has her constant move and breath monitored because she’s the good child who can’t fuck up!”
Evan couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.
It felt like he was encased in ice.
“What is there to fucking say about my family?! I have a sister who hates me because I terrorise and abuse her, a dad who hates because he doesn’t understand me, and a mother who oddly enough, doesn’t hate me, but I’m sure would be a valium addicted housewife if she could! So just fuck off with all that crap!”
Something snapped in Evan then, and he was reaching, reaching for Connor, just to do something -
“Connor, I’m -”
“FUCK. OFF -”
- whack.
It didn’t register at first that Connor had hit him, but then his cheek was stinging and Connor’s hand was still raised, and Connor was staring him down, and Evan pressed himself against the car door, shaking, eyes wide, nails digging into skin and maybe cutting, he wasn’t sure.
For a moment, all was still.
Then Connor - Connor turned back to the steering wheel, and slammed his head down.
Once.
Twice.
Then he stopped, and just rested his head against it, eyes shut.
Fall Out Boy continued to play in the background.
Just breathe, he told himself.
In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three.
In-two-three -
“Your breathing,” Connor growled, “is fucking annoying.”
Evan stopped.
He could feel himself trembling. He could feel alarms blaring in his mind.
His head still on the steering wheel, Connor reached over and replayed Hum Hallelujah. When it finished, he played it again.
And again.
And again.
The second time around, Evan noticed that Connor’s eyes were open, and not shut. That they were mostly blue with a slice of brown.
He wondered how he missed that all this time.
The next time around, he noticed Connor’s lips mouthing the words to the song, but not exactly, a beat, a second off.
The last time, Connor gasped, like a drowning man finally come to the surface, and bolted upright. He shook his head.
Then, like nothing else had ever happened, he grasped the steering wheel, pulled the car back onto the road and drove the last little bit to the gas station.
They didn’t say anything.
Every time Hum Hallelujah finished, Connor would jab at the radio to replay it, even as he was turning into the gas station and parking by a pump.
He slammed the door behind him when he got out, and Evan was left alone.
Maybe this was all a mistake.
Maybe he shouldn’t have left.
Maybe Connor really was going to kill him.
Jared - he could still call Jared, right? His phone still had some charge, and Jared had a car, and was good at sneaking out, and could be there in less than twenty minutes if he went over the speed limit which Jared tended to do, and if he had to, if he really, really had to, he could hide in the bathroom and wait for Jared, and he could pick him off, and then Evan could just avoid Connor forever and maybe ignore Zoe as well, heck, maybe he could just ignore everyone at school so no one found out he -
A packet of skittles colliding with his face woke him out of his thoughts.
“Fuck, shit, Evan, I didn’t mean for that to hit you,” Connor said, eyes wide as he slid back into the driver’s seat, a slushie clutched in his hand.
Evan stared at Connor. Maybe he should run. For his own safety. Connor coughed.
“I, uh, got you a slushie. For your cheek,” Connor said, holding out the aforementioned drink. “It’s uh. Purple flavoured. Mixed. I didn’t know what slushie flavour you actually like, so. Here. The skittles are, uh, yours too.”
Hand still shaking, Evan took the slushie from Connor, and pressed it against his cheek. It wasn’t as cool as he expected it to be, in all honesty, but his tongue felt too heavy, so he kept quiet.
“Look, Evan,” Connor began, finally shutting the car door. “I. I shouldn’t have hit you. Or yelled like that. I just. My brain’s shit, yeah? So I do shitty things like that. That I shouldn’t. And - and yeah. If you, uh, if you wanna go home, just like. Yeah. I’ll take you.”
And Evan looked at Connor - just looked at him. Looked at the half-broken boy in front of him. Looked at how his hoodie hung off him, even though it shouldn’t, how his wrists and hands and fingers looked almost skeletal with how long and then they were. Looked at how his eyes - his not fully blue-or-brown eyes - kept darting around, like he was looking for an escape, looked at how his long hair was actually slightly tangled, like he didn’t bother with it at all, looked at his nails, bitten like he was trying to grow them out but failed, covered in chipped, black nail polish.
He just looked.
“Connor,” he said, voice soft, removing the slushie from his cheek and setting it down in the cup holder, “why did you do this?”
“I - I told you,” Connor said. “I have a shit brain that makes me do shit things and -”
“Connor.” Evan reached for the boy again, and he flinched away. “Why me?”
Connor just stared ahead into Evan’s eyes for a moment, then two, searching all the while. Then he sighed, and shut his eyes. “Let’s not do this here,” he said, and Evan agreed.
They ended up at the park again, after a drive in silence. Roscoe found the pair again, and situated himself between them as they sat on a bench, Evan’s skittles open and shared between them.
It was Connor who spoke first.
“I’m… I don’t…” He groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Like. At all.”
“I don’t either,” Evan told him, and Connor - not quite laughed, really, but he didn’t sob either, and then he went still for a few moments.
“There’s nothing for me here,” he whispered like he had only just thought it. “There’s - there’s nothing. Everyone hates me, and I just - I can’t stay, Evan. I have to leave.”
“I don’t hate you,” Evan said in a small voice, and Connor did laugh then, not a real laugh, not the laugh Evan did when he didn’t know what else to do. It sounded bitter, and hollow, like even Connor didn’t think he should be laughing.
“You should,” he said. “God, you should. I’m not a good person, Ev, and I don’t know how I conned you into thinking I am. What’s been the main highlight of hanging out with me, yeah? The part where I hit you, or the part where I screamed in your face?”
“The part where you reassured me in a drive-thru,” Evan said without thinking. Connor was staring at him, eyes wide. “The part where I found out that you feed a stray dog in the park and play with him. The part where you brought me a slushie and skittles as an apology for hitting me.” He paused for a moment, and smiled as best he could at Connor. “You’re a good person, Connor. Even if you don’t think you are. Even if sometimes you aren’t. I believe you are. I believe you can be.”
For a moment, Connor just stared at Evan, shaking, taking almost shuddering breaths. Then he started blinking rapidly, as if that could dispel the tears already starting to trickle down his cheeks.
“Evan.” His voice was smaller than Evan had heard it. It trembled too much.
“Yeah?” He wasn’t shaking. He. Was. Not. Shaking.
“How...how did you break your arm?”
“I climbed a tree and I…” He swallowed. Connor deserved the truth. “...and I let go.”
And Connor - Connor just let out a small sob, tears now fully running down his cheeks, and then he was hugging Evan, clutching him tight, and Evan clutched him back, and Connor was so warm and thin and he could feel his shoulder blades even through his hoodie, and Connor was sobbing into Evan’s shoulder, and maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable hug because Evan still had his cast on and Roscoe had run away and Connor felt so small and -
And they stayed like that, for a while. Until Connor’s sobs had gone quiet, and he wasn’t shaking as much, but he still held on, even as he pulled away.
“Thank you,” he said, with a half-laugh. “J-Just. Thank you, Evan.”
“You’re welcome,” Evan said, matching his half-laugh with one equally as shaky and off.
“Well, hopefully this night’s convinced you not to off yourself,” Connor said, smiling at Evan as he wiped away a tear from his eye, and Evan smiled back -
Wait, what?
Did… Did Connor say what Evan thought he did?
“Connor,” he said, quieter than he thought.
“Yeah?” He was smiling. Connor looked good smiling. Even with his face red from crying, and some tears still there, he looked good. Evan’s chest hurt.
He did.
He thought Evan was -
The letter.
He must have...
That...It…
It made too much sense.
“Connor,” Evan tried. “I wasn’t - I’m not - I’m not gonna kill myself.”
For a moment, all Connor did was stare at him, jaw slack. Then, he began to chuckle, slowly, pushing himself away from Evan, covering his mouth, then it spread, and grew, until he was full on howling with laughter, slapping his forehead with one hand as he hugged himself with his other arm.
“Oh my fucking god - I - this whole night, trying to! And you aren’t even - Oh my god!” he half-cried, shaking and almost convulsing. “I can’t - it just - of course it’d be fucking.”
“C-Connor?” Evan reached for him, but Connor almost flinched away, still laughing, laughing, laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world.
“Of course you aren’t even suicidal,” Connor said, wheezing. “Of - of fucking course. Isn’t that how it always is? Connor Murphy, world’s biggest fuck up and joke! Talking a guy who isn’t suicidal out of fucking suicide!”
“Connor, that’s not - I mean - I…” Evan paused, and Connor’s laughter faded a little. “I am. I mean. I am still - ye-yeah, I-I don't think you have to be a genius to realise that. But I’m not - I can't - Even if I could, I wouldn't. I can't.”
He was quiet a few moments, just staring at Evan. “Why?” he asked, his voice scratchy. “You on suicide watch or something?”
Evan shook his head, his cheeks flushing red. “W-When I was in ER, waiting to be seen, I-I googled to see how much funerals are, a-and the average funeral cost is just over seven thousand dollars,” he explained. “I-It's such a stupid reason, b-but we can't - my mom wouldn't be able to afford to pay it. M-My medications and stuff, th-they're all on payment plans, and she knows h-hospitals well enough to argue down bills, so they're not - not that bad, but -”
“I get you, Evan, I get you,” Connor said, sighing. “My funeral wouldn't even put a dent in my dad’s earnings.”
And he said so surely, like of course his funeral would be before his dad’s, like of course everyone already knew this, like it was just a fact of life for Connor that Evan felt - scared. He felt scared for him.
But before he could even open his mouth, before he could even think to say anything, his phone blared out, startling Roscoe enough for him to flee and making both boys jump. He scrambled to dig it out of his pocket, not even checking who it was calling him.
“H-Hello?”
A sob erupted from the other end, and his heart clenched.
No.
“Oh thank god you’re okay!” his mom cried, breaths choked and heaving even through the phone. “I was so - you weren't in - I just - I thought -”
“I’m okay,” he said, swallowing as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He could feel Connor staring at him. “I’m safe. I’m fine.”
“Where are you?” his mom asked, and Evan just drew himself even more.
“In the park,” he murmured, shutting his eyes tight. “With a friend.”
“Jared?” She sounded halfway hopeful, but there was still that touch of mania, that edge of worry to her voice, and Evan put that there.
“Not Jared,” he told her. “Con - someone else.” He paused. “I’ll come home, now.”
“You better,” his mom half sobbed, then she took a deep breath. Evan wondered what it was like to calm down that easily. “Love you so, so much. More than anything.”
“Love you too,” he echoed, and then his mom hung up.
Neither he or Connor moved for a moment.
“Well,” Connor said, sighing. “Best get you home then.”
“Yeah,” Evan said, before uncurling himself and standing up. He had only walked a few steps when there was a tug at his sleeve, and he turned to see Connor staring up at him, eyes big and bright in the street lamp light.
“Am I really your friend?” Connor asked and his voice a little more broken that he was pretending it was.
Evan swallowed, and smiled best he could at Connor. “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you?”
Connor smiled back, but it was a smile given when nothing else would do. Not a real one. They drove back to Evan’s house in silence, Fall Out Boy still playing, and Evan wondered if in his mind, Connor and Fall Out Boy were linked now, that he wouldn’t be able to hear one song from the band without thinking of the boy taking him home.
Then he thought about the talk they had in the park. He thought about the… thing at the bridge. He thought about the surety of Connor’s voice that his voice that his funeral would be before his dad’s. Thought about the fact he never saw Connor’s wrists. Thought about how broken Connor sounded when he said ‘There’s nothing for me here’ and ‘I have to leave’.
He thought about the bottle of pills in the glovebox.
His stomach churned at the thought. His head hurt. His chest burned.
“Here you are, safe and sound,” Connor said as he pulled up outside Evan’s house. “Guess this is good it, huh?”
“I-I guess,” Evan said, not really looking at anything as he undid he seatbelt. “I, uh. Thank you for tonight, Connor.”
“Yeah, well, it’s no problem,” Connor said, and he was smiling at Evan, he knew it. “It was nice, hanging with you.”
“It was,” Evan murmured. “S-See you at school?”
Connor was silent for a moment, before shrugging.
“Maybe,” he said, and Evan broke.
“It - it’snotillegaltodisappear!” he yelled, shaking as he whirled around to face Connor, who gaped at him, frowning a little.
“Say that again,” he said, and Evan swallowed.
“I-It’s not illegal to go missing,” he said, trying hard to focus and not to yell again. “A-As in, like. A missing person missing. I-If you’re eighteen, I mean. I - I watched a video on it, once. S-So, y’know, t-that’s an option.”
For a moment, Connor just stared at Evan, frowning.
“Y-You mean, like, running away and going missing?” he asked, and got frantic nodding in reply.
“I-It’s just you said t-that there’s nothing for you here, a-and I thought, y-y’know, it’s a chance to get away. S-Something to start over with.”
Connor nodded, his eyes half-glazed over, biting his lip as his fingers began to tap at the steering wheel again.
“My birthday’s October 4th,” he murmured, before shaking his head and glancing at Evan.
“That’s only a month,” Evan said.
“Mm.” Connor nodded, one hand now rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you - can you send me that video? I don’t - pass me your phone, I’ll give you my number.”
Evan did so, unlocking it as he did so, feeling that hot-cold prickles at the back of his neck, more than aware of the fact that they were outside his home, and the lights were all on, and his mom was waiting for him to come and he was just sat in Connor Murphy’s car, waiting for his phone number.
“Here you go,” Connor said, handing the phone back to Evan, and smiling. “I’ll send you this article that helped me once. Not so much now, but, y’know, it could help you.”
“Thank you,” Evan said, smiling at him, and then he was kinda struck by the fact he didn’t want to leave. Not really. He kinda wanted to drive away with Connor into the night and until morning, and maybe never come back.
“Hey,” Connor interrupt Evan’s thoughts, his voice and smile soft. “Come here a moment.”
Evan edged closer to Connor, and then Connor was closer, leaning in and then -
And then they kissed. As if it was the simplest thing to do in that moment.
Connor’s lips didn’t feel as chapped as they looked. Warmer than Evan thought was well.
Kissing was nicer than Evan thought too. Even as he trembled.
When Connor pulled away, he was smiling, half-shaking his head, and there was something - something melancholy to his eyes as he gazed at Evan.
“Just like I thought,” he murmured, before chuckling. “You look good in the light, you know.”
“T-Thank you,” Evan muttered, his cheeks flushing. “I - Uh. I best go. My mom - my mom will be waiting for me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Connor said, still half-smiling. “I’ll get home too. See you in school?”
“See you in school,” Evan said, opening the car door and climbing out, before pausing a moment. “Good night, Connor.”
“Good night,” Connor said, reaching over to shut the car door, and waiting until Evan was at the front door before driving off into the night.
Not a lot happened for a while.
Well, actually, that’s not quite true.
Evan got grounded for the first time in the life, something that Jared thought would never happen. He also had to text his mom every few hours, just in case he went out again, but considering she was almost calling the police when he finally went back in, it seemed somewhat lenient to him.
Another thing happened.
He and Connor became friends.
Well. Maybe.
Actually, no. They were friends.
Connor started sitting with him in the library, and talking to him in the hallway on a morning or between classes. In the computer lab after school (where Connor went to wait for Zoe’s jazz band practise to end, it turned out), they would sit and talk, or sometimes they would just sit in silence as Evan worked on one of his letters.
“It references the article I sent you,” Connor said one day, not really doing anything but spinning around on the chairs.
“T-The video I sent you?” Evan asked.
“Yeah,” Connor said, and then, “So people are asking me if you paid me to be a body guard, what’s up with that?” and everything went slight back to normal.
Two weeks before his birthday, Connor was waiting for him in the computer lab, eyes glinting as he sat there.
“Vermont,” he declared, grinning almost manically. “I’m gonna go to Vermont.”
It took a moment for it to click in Evan’s mind. “W-Why Vermont?” he asked, hands shaking.
“Because,” Connor said, still grinning, “who the fuck goes to Vermont?”, and that was the only time they really talked about Connor leaving.
They didn’t really talk about a lot of things. Like the kiss, or Roscoe, or Coward’s Way Bridge.
It was nice, though. Having Connor as a friend. Even if it had an expiration date, it was nice. Zoe talked to him a few times as well, though that was mostly ‘are you sure Connor isn’t threatening you’, which honestly, just seemed like a variation on Jared’s ‘blink twice if you feel trapped’ texts.
Then, on October 4th, Connor didn’t show up for school. Roscoe wasn’t in the park when Evan went to check.
Within a day, it was official. Connor had disappeared.
Connor Lawrence Murphy had become a missing person.
There was a lot of talk at school, a lot of wayward glances at both him and Zoe. A lot of rumours. Some said that Connor was dead. Some said that he had been kidnapped, because he had a lot of drug debts. Some even theorised that he had run away to Hollywood or New York.
No one mentioned Vermont, Evan noticed. Not in anything Jared told him, at least.
He and Zoe both got pulled into the councillor’s office, and he had to speak to the police more than once, but he always said the same things.
Yes, I was friends with Connor.
No, I don’t know where he is.
No, I didn’t know if he wanted to run away.
Yes, I miss him.
Then, on Halloween, he received a letter, a stamp from Vermont in the corner of the envelope, and a photo of a black-and-white Chihuahua mix wearing a bright yellow neckerchief and with ‘turns out Roscoe was a girl. Meet Eva - she’s officially mine now’ on the back.
And he knew that Connor was going to be alright.
---
Dear Evan Hansen,
Guess what? I’m in Vermont now. Well. Technically I’m in a motel in Vermont, but you know, it’s all the same. It’s nicer than I thought. A lot of trees. You’d like it.
This is really just to let you know I’m doing alright. I took my college fund and my car and I got my hair cut and bleached (is it weird to say I prefer long hair? And that I look very weird with blond hair so no, you’re not getting a photo of that) so no one’s gonna recognise me and I have enough to get by for a while. Oh, and Roscoe. Well. Eva now. Hope you don’t mind her name, I just thought it suited her.
I don’t know if I’ll write to you again. Probably not, no offence. Maybe once a year or so. Y’know, I never knew your birthday. So, happy 18th whenever that is.
Thank you for saving me, by the way. I hope I saved you.
Sincerely,
Me.