Chapter Text
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why: you have Environmental Science first period. Jared hasn't made a single joke about your anxiety yet. Your palms aren't as sweaty as normal. No one gave you any funny looks this morning, not that they should have but sometimes they do and-
"Jesus, Evan, another one of those creepy sex letters? When will you be satisfied?" Jared chuckles, slinging his bag into the chair next to Evan. Evan startles, hurriedly closing the open browser and trying to muster up a laugh. "You gonna print that, man? There'd better be a gay scene in it somewhere, or I'll throw a fit."
So much for Jared not giving you shit, he thinks, and so much for dry hands.
~~~~
Environmental Science goes well (as well as it can) for being the first period on a sticky August morning. By the time class is over, Evan has had plenty of time to recover from Jared's surprise visit to the computer lab before school. His elbow ached from banging it against the table in his fright, but other than that he was relatively unscathed. He's lucky he didn't bang his broken arm- that would have royally screwed his day. His cast, emblazoned with CONNOR (almost like a name tag, or one of those fancy signs you got for a parking place in the school lot when you were important or rich enough to deserve one) is itchy and stiff, but the bold, permanent-marker-stubborn letters refuse to fade. They're well into the second week of school, but he hasn't seen Connor since the very first day. It's been... weird. To say the least. Jared says "It's no big deal, Evan, honestly. We're probably safer without him, I mean, did you see him on the first day? He looked like a long-haired Dylan Klebold or something." which does nothing to ease Evan's nerves. How many school shooter jokes can Jared make, anyway? They're really getting kind of old, not that Evan could ever say anything about it. Connor still has Evan's note, the first one of the school year, the Zoe note, the most embarrassing one he's ever written, and if he weren't already a mess pre-Connor incident, he definitely was now.
After Environmental Science he has Spanish and Math, which both pass in a shaky blur of bouncing knees and tapping toes. By the time Math is over, he has a horrible feeling in his stomach, the same kind of feeling he gets when his dad calls unexpectedly or when he has to wait for the pizza delivery man to count his change back to him. He could just be gassy, or nauseous from his medicine, or sick with the stomach flu, or he could have a tapeworm or some kind of parasite living in his intestines, but he mostly just feels filled with dread.
He doesn't see Jared again until lunchtime, which means he doesn't have to really talk to anyone until then. Which is a good thing. When he does get to lunch, though, Jared is waiting for him with a tray of food and a jittery grimace. Immediately, his palms get damp again and his broken arm gets itchy and his stomach flutters uncomfortably.
"I got enough food for both of us," Jared starts as soon as Evan reaches him. He puts a hand against the small of Evan's back and pushes gently. Against all anxious instinct, Evan allows himself to be lead back out of the cafeteria and outside, where Jared instructs him to take a deep breath and ‘chill out, man, you're making me nervous,’ so Evan stutters through an apology and sits on the sidewalk, drying his hands on his khaki thighs. He's so gross. He's so so so so gross, what the hell, nobody else has a hand sweating problem.
"What's going on?" he attempts, but it comes out more like, "What'sgoingon!" and he feels so stupid that he almost misses Jared's response.
"Mrs. Schallon came up to me after study hall," his voice wavers. "And she wanted to know how you were doing, and if we were still friends. She asked me to bring you to the office after lunch," he says. He's pacing. "It didn't seem good."
"What did she say?" Oh man, now his armpits are sweating too, and his heart is going to fall out of his chest. Jared is acting weird, he never takes anything this seriously, ever. "Jared, you're not messing with me, are you?"
"No, Evan, I'm not messing with you," Jared scowls, hands on his hips. "I just don't understand why they would want you at the office. You don't even skip assignments, let alone do anything bad enough to get you called to the office. And why the hell do you need an escort there?"
"I don't know?" Evan squeaks, and his pulse hammers against his skin. Maybe you did something, he thinks. Maybe you really messed up. Maybe someone knows what actually happened to your arm. Maybe maybe maybe-
"Eat quickly and I'll take you," Jared sighs, checking his phone. "Hopefully they just need me to drop you off."
"Yeah," Evan mutters, picking at the ham sandwich Jared bought for him. "Hopefully."
~~~~
"You go in," Jared hisses, prodding Evan in the back.
"No! You go in!" Evan replies, batting Jared's hand away. "Look at me! Look how shaky I am! I can hardly keep myself upright, let alone go in there!"
"You're the one they wanted in here anyway, I shouldn't have to open the damn door for you!"
"It's just a door, Jared, are you scared of it?"
"You're one to talk-"
The door swings open, and their principal is staring at them like they're idiots. Oh, god. Evan has made a fool of himself again, in front of Mrs. Schallon, and Jared, and probably the whole school because he's sure that they're all watching by now and his eyes are darting around so fast it's making him dizzy and-
"Mom?" They finally, blessedly land on his mother, who is sitting stiff and sniffly in the uncomfortable chairs in front of Mrs. Schallon's desk.
"Evan," Mrs. Schallon says, ushering him inside. She shoots Jared a look but doesn't tell him to leave, so he throws himself down on the couch outside of the office with a heavy sigh.
"I'll wait for you," Jared mouths, and the heavy oak door is closing between them and Evan's mind is racing. Surely this is about that time in fifth grade when he accidentally peed on the wall and didn't tell anyone. Or the time in third grade when he stepped on their class hamster and put it back in its cage so no one would know. Or the time in eighth grade when he took someone else's pencil case by accident and never gave it back because he was too nervous to approach the owner. Surely Mrs. Schallon just found out about all these terrible things and now he's going to be expelled. His mom starts crying.
"Mom? What, um, what's going on?"
"Evan," Mrs. Schallon tries again. "I think you should sit down." She offers a handful of tissues to Heidi, who passes one to Evan. He's already started in on his runny nose, it's only a matter of time before his eyes begin dripping stupidly like they always do.
"Am I in trouble?" Evan asks, trying to gulp down as much air as he can.
"Oh, heavens no," Mrs. Schallon says. Her face crumples a bit and stays that way until she rubs at her temples, smoothing away any sign of distress. "Evan, it's about Connor Murphy."
The room is spinning. It has to be. Evan has only been this dizzy once in his life, and that was when he went to the amusement park with his dad in Colorado and got motion sick from watching the swing ride. That was the only time he ever visited. Beside him, his mom makes a heavy, shuddery noise and blows her nose. There is a pregnant silence and what if Connor gave Mrs. Schallon his letter and that's what this is about, what if Mrs. Schallon is going to read the letter out loud to him and his mom, what if everyone finds out about Zoe Murphy because Mrs. Schallon accidentally pressed the button on her desk to turn the loudspeakers on and broadcasted their conversation to the whole school?
"Evan, honey, take a breath," his mom says wetly, rubbing his back. "Deep breath in, hold it, long breath out."
"Connor, um, Connor Murphy?" He whispers. He's definitely sweating through his shirt, his new blue shirt that his mom bought him specifically because ‘blue's your favorite color, Evan, it'll boost your confidence!’
"Yes, do you know him?" Mrs. Schallon has regained her composure, but her eyes are soft.
"Um. Um, I- not really? He signed my cast, um." And took my letter and probably posted it all over the Internet and-
"Connor Murphy attempted suicide last Thursday..." You know when you're watching television or a movie and something horrifically shocking happens to the main character and suddenly there is a piercing, ringing sound and the screen starts to go fuzzy? "...Evan? Evan."
"He... he what?" He has his eyes shut as tight as they will go, he's clutching the arms of the chair with all the strength his skinny arms can muster, and his stomach keeps clenching uncomfortably. "He tried to kill himself?"
"Yes," Mrs. Schallon says. She clears her throat. Clears it again.
"Why are you telling me this? Sorry, sorry sorry, I just, um."
"He left a note, Evan," his mom says. She puts her hand on top of his and squeezes. "Do you want to read it?" He can't tell if he shakes his head yes or no but suddenly there is a sheet of paper in his hands and he cracks open his eyes just wide enough to see words that are all too familiar to him.
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why-
"Mom, no, Mom, this isn't his note, this was mine, my assignment, Mom, Mom-" his knee bounces so hard that it cracks against the lip of Mrs. Schallon's desk.
"This isn't yours, honey," she says, smoothing his hair down, holding his face between her hands, kissing his forehead, wiping under his eyes and when did he start crying? "They found yours in his pocket."
"This is incredibly unusual, but we were all hoping you might be able to help Connor. His parents agreed that it would be best, considering, well. You read the note," Mrs. Schallon says, tone soft. "He's coming back to school tomorrow, and he needs someone right now. Clearly, he chose you."
~~~~
Evan goes home after the meeting. Jared is still stewing on the couch when they leave, but he hurries away as soon as he catches sight of them.
"I know this is hard," Heidi says once they're in the car. "But I talked to Dr. Sherman, and he seems confident that this will be good for you. Hopefully you can be a friend to this poor boy."
"I don't even know him, Mom, I didn't- I couldn't- I," he takes a deep breath. His jaw aches from clenching it anxiously. "I don't, um, know how to do this?"
"Well, before you do anything, I want you to take a rest. After all this news, you definitely deserve one." They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and it's not until they get home that Evan realizes he's got Connor's letter clasped in his hand.
Evan and his mom watch shitty daytime soaps for the remainder of the day, and nearly forgets all about Connor. Until he checks his phone.
--> Jared Kleinman 9:43 PM- what the hell was that all about??
He's in his room now, away from his mom and away from the world. The letter is sitting on his desk, but he hasn't been able to read past Dear Evan Hansen, Today is going to be a good day, and here's why. He inhales deeply through his nose and pushes the breath slowly from his mouth before responding.
--> Evan Hansen 9:51 PM- connor murphy. ill explain more tomorrow.
--> Jared Kleinman 9:51 PM- so it isnt about ur creepy sex letters?
Evan has to take a really, really deep breath after that one.
--> Evan Hansen 9:52 PM- no. im going to bed.
He turns off his phone and shoves it under his pillow, but he doesn't intend to go to sleep yet. He has to read Connor's letter first, so he can think about how the hell to help somebody unreachable. He wonders if anybody has a map, or a guidebook, an instruction manual. Anything. Anything at all would be better than this.
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why: I finally have a plan. It's damn near foolproof, and I am over-the-moon, dripping with it. I have a bucket list, though, so this might take a couple of days. Stay tuned for further updates.
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why: we've already established I'm going to kill myself, so what I do (or don't do) now doesn't even matter. I'm finally free. I woke up this morning and didn't come to school. My mom told me I couldn't skip the first day, so I didn't, but she never said anything about the second. Did anyone notice I was missing? Did you see my sister, Evan? Did she look different? Did she seem worried, or angry, or sad? Or was she just tired of it all? I know I am. Sorry for taking up your whole cast, by the way, you just looked so damn lonely and I was too, and a blank cast is kind of pathetic. So today is going to be a good day because today I am going to get absolutely out of my mind stoned. I haven't had a good high in ages, and I want to do that before I. Before I die.
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why: I am completing the second, third, and fourth items on my bucket list. I already got completely stoned yesterday, so that's out of the way. Number two is simple: lay in bed for as long as I want, doing whatever I want, and not getting out until I feel so inclined. So I'm writing this in bed right now, and isn't that so sad? All I can think to do is write my suicide note to a boy I don't even know very well. Maybe I'll get off or something and not clean the sheets, that'll really be living (ha) on the edge. Maybe I'll sleep. Maybe I'll just listen to music and contemplate how I'm going to get this to you.
Well. Update. I didn't clean the sheets.
Number three is a bit more difficult, because I actually have to leave the house to do it which is really challenging sometimes. There are days where I'd rather die (haha) than leave my bedroom, let alone the house. But it's just the library, so it shouldn't be a big deal. I want to have my top ten books with me when I die. Did you know English is (was) my favorite subject?
Number four is just to be a little bit happy. To have a little bit of a good day. Which. After laying around for hours doing everything I could do from a bed, then going to collect all of my favorite books, shouldn't be hard. But it is, it is hard because the whole point of this is that I'm not happy and I'm afraid that if I get too happy I'll flake out. So maybe I'll scratch number four. It could be too dangerous.
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why: I am going to do it today. Today is the day I finally kill myself. Nobody will even notice that I'm gone, probably, and if they do they will be relieved. If you see Zoe, tell her I love her. I didn't ever say that enough. She probably doesn't care, never mind. I've finished my bucket list just now- I went back to Autumn Smile Apple Orchard, did you know that was my favorite place growing up? It was the last thing on my list, too. I just wanted to see it one last time before I. Die. Well. I did, and now it's time to go. This letter is so damn sad. The saddest thing I've ever seen, except maybe your empty cast. Didn't you say you fell out of a tree? I don't know if I believe your story. Keep an eye on my sister, would you? I love her so much, you wouldn't even believe it. She's not like me, not yet, hopefully not ever, but I know that you care about her so. Please. Please make sure she doesn't do what I'm about to. Evan Hansen, you and me are alike. We're losers, you know that? We fade into the background. We get lost too easily and nobody wants to find us- or if they do, if they really want to, they give up halfway through and stop looking. So we. We disappear. No one deserves that, you know? Scratch that. Maybe I do. When I was little, I used to think that I would grow up to be an artist, did you know that? I wanted so badly to connect with people, to be able to make purposefully ugly things and for them to mean something. But. Well. You know how the story goes. Now I just. I made myself, I guess? But the really horrible, gut wrenching part is that I don't mean anything. I don't matter. Nobody is going to be affected by this, there will be no ripples. I'm flickering out, Evan. And it hurts like hell and I'm tired of flickering and fading and getting lost and disappearing, but there's nothing I can do to change it so I'm just going to end it. Maybe I deserve this, Evan, but nobody else does. Don't let yourself become like me. Don't flicker. Burn and burn and burn and fight it until you're too old to fight anymore. But don't follow in my footsteps.
Sincerely, me.
Evan takes a shuddery breath. Well. That was a lot. His lungs are fluttering weakly behind his ribs and his heart pulses heavily against his chest. He knows all too well what Connor is talking about, the flickering feeling, like he could just be blown out and forgotten about. With shaking hands, he sets the letter on his desk and puts a book on top of it, and opens his window. Sometimes the fresh air is enough to calm him down and he won't need to dry swallow a Xanax, so he waits for the breeze to touch his skin and tries to breathe the way Dr. Sherman taught him. Deep breath in through the nose for six seconds, hold it for seven, and out through the mouth for eight. In for six, hold for seven, out for eight. Over and over until he knows it's not working and has to scramble to the medicine cabinet before he really starts panicking. There's a sticky note on the inside of the cabinet that his mom wants him to tally whenever he needs a pill, and a pencil next to the medicine bottle, so he makes a tally and swallows his Xanax.
"You alright?" His mom calls from the living room.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" He warbles, throat closing around the words. Heidi doesn't call back up to him. So. He goes back to his room and lays down, waiting for the medicine to kick in and mellow him out so he can actually go to bed. The soft yellow glow of the streetlight illuminates the desk, and the last thing he sees before drifting into a restless sleep is Connor's letter, halfway tucked beneath Huck Finn.
~~~~
In his sleep, he sees Connor. They're in temple or something, they have to be, because Evan only ever wears a blazer like this to temple. Why is Connor lying down during a service? Nobody could sleep in a pew, they're so uncomfortable to just sit in, but his eyes are closed and he looks peaceful. But, Evan thinks, he's not asleep, is he? No, if he was asleep, he would move or mumble or breathe, but he's still as death in his pew that isn't a pew, because suddenly it's a coffin and Connor is dead and Evan can't breathe again.