Chapter Text
It was just proof that those ‘today is gonna be a great day because…’ letters were plain stupid.
First, they always made him feel bad. Evan couldn’t easily find something nice to write. Not about himself. Not about how his day would be going. After all, every day was the same. The same boring and pathetic day that wasn’t worth talking about. Nothing good or worth noting on ever happened to him. And those letters, it felt like, like, the same bullshit as when he was younger. On his way home from school, the stress wasn’t over because now Evan had to think of a lie to tell his mom. Because every day, or almost; sometimes she was too tired, she would ask him how his day went. With that look in her eyes. Begging. Just, please, Evan, tell me it was good. Tell me even the smallest most pathetic little happy detail. Just anything, please, please. So he would, because he didn’t want to make her sad. He’d lie to his mom, every day. And as she smiled, he felt so bad about it. Because she deserved better. A better son. One that wasn’t so embarrassing.
Oh, and Evan hates lying! It’s stressful and feels gross and makes him sweat. The only ok thing about it is that he’s always stuttering and looking stupid anyway so people won’t point at him like ‘ah-ah! I know you’re lying, if you had a clean conscience you wouldn’t be such a mess right now’ but he was. A mess. All the time. And people knew, were used to it, didn’t expect anything more from him. So he could lie, if he wanted (not that he ever does), and people wouldn’t call him out for it. Well, generally. Sometimes, and it’s funny maybe, but people think he’s lying when he’s not. It’s always when he’s not. Really, what a stupid life he has!
So yeah, he hates lying, and those letters are just lies in written form. Or denial. He has to pretend he’s in some deep deep denial. And it’s weird. It is weird, right? Why pretend he’s gonna have a good day when he knows, his mom knows, his therapist knows, EVERYONE knows, his day gonna be the same as every day.
Evan never does anything new. Never tries anything. Never talks to new people. Even the people he knows, he barely talks to. Jared is here, because he has to, because his mom makes him, and he talks to Evan. About random stuff. Nothing really important. Nothing he means to tell Evan only. Sometimes it feels more like he’s talking over him, to someone behind him, someone who was there the whole time, just invisible. Then he looks at Evan like he’s mad, like he’s so annoyed at him, and Evan stops breathing for a moment because fuck what did he do this time. And it’s always that he got stuck in his head and forgot to listen for a bit, and Jared is so annoyed for wasting his time. And it’s weird, cause it’s nothing important he’s talking about, even if some is lost cause Evan drifted for a second, it doesn’t change anything. But the weirdest part of it is that, while he feels bad, cause he should have listened, it’s not even that hard how does he fuck up something this simple that’s insane, Evan also. Feels sorta happy? Or not really happy, that’s not the right word but. When Jared gets mad, at least it’s proof he was talking to Evan. Not some invisible guy hanging with them. So he. At least. Knows that he exist. That for a bit before class, he’s useful to someone, sorta. Jared doesn’t really need him, he has other people to talk to, and he loves talking so anyone will do really, but still. He expect Evan to listen. Knowing Evan has nothing to say, at all. He just hums here and there, a bunch of ‘oh really?’ or ‘that’s crazy’ when Jared pause.
Today’s gonna be a great day because… what?
Most days are the same, and when something changes, it’s for the worst.
He gets it. The exercice is to train him to have positive thoughts. To see the best outcome to things, not just the worst. He gets it. He gets it. He gets it.
But being in denial doesn’t help. It just makes him feel worse. He repeats what the therapist told him, in his head, not the exact words but close enough: it’s gonna take time. You can’t expect changes overnight. It’s a process. It will get better, just… give it time.
How much time? How long until he doesn’t want to die anymore?
No. he shoudln’t think that. it’s the opposite of what he was told to do. Happy thoughts, even if they’re fake, even if they make him feel crazy, like he’s losing his mind for real.
Today. Is gonna be. A geat day. Because. Because…
Connor is here and he’s gonna kick his ass. Oh no.
Evan ducks, barely, behind the computer screen. No way it hides him. He’s so stupid it’s embarrassing. How can someone be this stupid, like, physically? Is his brain weirdly small, or shaped incorrectly, is he missing a piece in there? Why is he like that? Why can’t he do anything right. Can’t even hide from someone correctly. He should just have, like, gotten up, and walked by the shelves, they’re not the best hiding place, book sparce making holes big enough that his presence is still easily detectable; but it was better than nothing.
He’s just. Sitting there. In the school’s library. Hiding behind a computer screen. Like an idiot.
And connor sat right next to him.
It’s like. Feels like. Evan stopped existing, for a bit. Sensations just completely gone. He knows he’s still here, sorta. His body, his shell, is still sitting on that chair. But it’s an empty body. His soul, or whatever, is gone, or is floating around. Not feeling anything. And it’s kinda nice. Not feeling anything, for a change. He wish. That this was a super power of some kind. Just leaving his body behind. It’s not like he even likes this body, or cares about it. So it’s fine to leave it there. If he could just float around, shapeless, unfeeling, yeah, that would be great.
His mom would be pissed at him, that’s for sure. But maybe she’ll agree after a while that having a ghost-son is better than a full-son. Less annoying, less tiring, less work and stress for her. She wouldn’t have to worry anymore, and wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be the best. They can just leave his body in his room. If it rots and starts smelling, she can throw it away, it’s fine. He’ll still be here with her, they’ll watch tv together. He probably can’t talk without a body but that’s great. Evan never has anything interesting to say.
He can’t even write one pseudo positive letter without feeling like throwing up. He sucks. They should throw his body away.
A slam next to his body.
It breaks the spell. Back in that annoying shell you go. He blinks. It kinda hurts, like he hadn’t blinked in a while and his eyes are so dry.
There’s a paper. And a hand on top. Connor’s hand.
He moves his hand away, so Evan can see. Yesterday’s letter. The page had been all scrunched up, then smoothed out a bit, then folded in four parts. Just. There. In front of him.
Evan’s aware he’s breathing. But he doesn’t feel it, not really. Maybe because he left his body earlier, not all sensations are back yet. And it’s kinda weird. You should be able to feel your lungs filling up. You should be able to hear your own heartbeat. But he’s not working well right now, so he just doesn’t.
There’s his letter next to him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Or how to feel. Just. What the fuck?
Connor doesn’t seem to be looking at him. Evan isn’t looking at him either. Not directly. Just from the very corner of his eye, without moving his face. So he doesn’t see much. But Connor’s hair is hiding his face as he seems to be playing with his hands or his nails or something. So he’s not looking at him. But he still put the letter here, so he has to be expecting something. But what? And in the first place, why did he keep the letter? Like, just, why…
Yesterday had been scary, and tiring. And he didn’t want to think about it. Evan had hoped Connor wouldn’t come to school today, or at least avoid him. It had been so hard getting out of bed this morning. But he couldn’t tell his mom why it was so vital for him to stay home today, so he left.
And so he’s here. In the library again. Like an idiot. Right where Connor knew to find him. Even sitting in the same chair. Really, is he stupid? No, but for real? Absolutely brain dead? Why did he choose the same chair? Sure he has habits and doesn’t like to change them, it stress him, but come on dude?!
"You write those a lot?"
Evan blinked. Slowly. Licked his upper lip. Tried to swallow his saliva but it made a weird sound. Loud enough for Connor to hear. Of course it would. This situation wasn’t weird and embarrassing enough as is.
"W-what?" he ask, not moving. Too scared to move.
Connor’s hand was in front of him, pointing to the computer screen. On it the words ‘today’s gonna be a great day because’ looked lost on the otherwise empty word document.
Of course. He had to look like an unmoving zombie, staring at the screen, not writting anything, stuck on that stupid, embarrassing, pathetic sentence, when Connor decided to show up.
He didn’t know what Connor would do to him. But he had a reputation. He was a scary guy. Or was supposed to be. Well, Evan had seen it for himself yesterday, the. Mood swing, or. Anger issue, or. Whatever his ‘problem’ is.
Connor pushed him. Connor apologized. Connor signed his cast. Connor found his letter. Connor yelled. Connor stormed out.
None of it made any sense to Evan. It was like watching a movie in a language he doesn’t speak. He tries to follow the story, but has no clue what the hell is going on.
Connor’s hand moved again. This time it was tapping the messed up paper, with two fingers.
"Why did you write that?" he asked.
Evan kinda wanted to die, in that moment. Wanted out. Just out of there, in any way. If he could get out of his body again, just float away. He wouldn’t care what Connor did to his body then. He could beat him up, because it wouldn’t matter, because he wouldn’t feel it.
But Evan was still there, currently, and he would still feel it.
The tapping started again. Tap, tap, tap. Or taptap, taptap, taptap, because it was two fingers, so the noise was. The noise. It.
Felt like Connor was tapping right into Evan’s head. Inside. He couldn’t run away from the tapping, cause it was stuck inside. And now, NOW, he could suddenly feel his breathing, and his heartbeat. Of course. Cause it was going badly. Too fast. Fuck.
"Ok," Connor’s voice came in, right into his head, taking too much space in his head cause clearly the space was empty, no brain, no nothing "why are you crying?" Oh. He was. Fuck, ok. "I didn’t even do anything to you…" Connor sighed. Like, angry-sighed. Like he was annoyed. And of course he would be, of course.
"No, ah…" Evan tried, but his voice was trembling, from the crying, of course, cause he needed to make the situation worse "I… I don’t. Mean. U-um..." what was he even trying to say, he had no clue. He just had to. Had to.
He started scratching around his cast. It was uncomfortable to have his arm stuck in it, so it became an habit pretty quickly. The scratching. So much so that the back of his hand was permanently red. He tried not to. Tried to focus on something else, like playing with his shirt, or biting his lip, or smoothing out the too large pockets of his cargo pants. Really, why were they so big even with nothing inside? It made him self conscious, like everyone was staring at his dumb huge pockets and thought what a loser he was for wearing something so unflattering. Why was everyone so well dressed in high school? How did they know how to dress? Was it inate? Was this another proof something was wrong with him? That he had absolutely no clue how to dress up. But anyway, nothing ever looked good on it. His face and his body was just too weird.
Connor.
Picked one of his fingers. From his hand he used to scratch around his cast. And held it in the air. What.
Slowly, carefully, Evan tried to look at him. Not too directly. He didn’t want to. Upset him or something, by looking at. Him. Uh? This situation was just so weird.
"Um." he said.
That’s it. Just that. Incredible.
Connor was staring at him, which really didn’t help.
"You’re gonna hurt yourself if you continue…" and Connor’s voice was strangely soft. Like he was worried. For real. So weird.
"Ah. Yeah. Sorry."
Connor exhaled. Not really a sigh. Just like he had been holding his breath for some reason. Like Evan was so fragile, he had to be careful not to breath too hard next to him. As if Evan was a castle of cards, ready to fall down any second.
They just stared at each other, not saying anything, for perhaps a minute. Evan hoped not that long. It would be awkward as hell. But it’s not like he could tell. Other than, from the corner of his eye, he noticed the computer screen going black, from being ignored too long.
Also, Connor was still holding his finger. What the hell.
Evan was now worrying his lip. Which he knew made him look stupid, showing too much of his teeth. But at this point whatever right?
"What’s your thing with Zoe?" Connor ask, proving that things can indeed get worse, always.
And Evan didn’t mean to but he says "UH?" way too loud.
Connor looks away finally, his eyes falling on the letter that had seen better days, the paper was so messed up, and he read a line from it. About Zoe.
Or tried to, at least, because Evan panicked and covered the paper with his arm. The one in the cast, so it made a thump like noise when it fell on the table, all cause Connor was STILL holding his finger and Evan was too scared to get it back from him. Please, could someone. PLEASE tell him what was going on in this weird ass movie. What kind of role is Connor playing? What is Evan’s role? And also, more importantly, he never agreed to be here and do… that. Whatever that is.
Connor didn’t look up, his eyes still on the letter, or Evan’s cast, or maybe he wasn’t looking at anything at all.
"Do you…" he started, before going quiet. And that was almost worst, him being quiet. Evan almost missed being yelled at yesterday. Insane. "like her?" he finished and no, actually, that was worse.
"I. Do I? Wha… Zoe?"
He knew he sounded stupid. Who else? Who else?! Obviously he was talking about Zoe, he made it clear, even tried quoting Evan’s own words. Why was he like this…
Connor closed his eyes, seemingly tired by Evan’s bullshit. Understandable. "Are you in love with my sister?" he asked "Is that what’s going on?"
"Um," Evan said, the epitome of eloquence.
"It’s a simple question." Connor sounded like he was running out of patience. Fuck.
"N-no, yeah, um."
"Yes or no, which one is it?" he exhaled again, faster this time, more roughly. This did not help Evan calm down.
"I… I-I-I, I mean, I…"
Connor squeezed his finger. Hard. Bending it backward. Actively trying to hurt him. Not bad enough to break it or anything, but. And Evan’s heart was beating so fast, it was painful in his chest, and so so loud. He couldn’t even think. Didn’t know what to tell him. How to make it all stop. He didn’t want to watch this movie anymore. How did he press pause again?
Connor stared back at him, but also got closer, way too close. And normally Evan would have moved, tried to pull back, but he was stuck. Just so lost, so confused, no clue what he was supposed to do. How to breath. How to talk. How to save himself.
"Fuckin…" Connor started "are you a creep? Should I be worried about you? Are you planning to be gross to her? What is it?"
Evan wants to cry. Because his finger hurts, because Connor is too close, because he’s scared and wants to leave. But also because.
Because.
Why… why? Would he hurt Zoe? She had. She. Came to him yesterday. She saw the whole thing. How her brother pushed him. And sure, she had not stopped him, didn’t yell at him, she waited until Connor left but. She still came toward Evan, looking worried, or sad, or with pity or whatever. And apologized for her brother. Not that she had to. It wasn’t her fault. But she still decided to do that, and hold her hand to him, helping him up. She didn’t have to. But she smiled at him.
And it hadn’t even been the first time she had been nice to him. She never had to, but she made the choice to smile to him, to ask him if he was ok when he wasn’t paying attention and hit his head on a window that had been left open. She hadn’t laughed, when everyone else did. Even though it’s Evan. And he’s so pathetic and gross and stupid and not worth the time. Not worth the effort.
And not many people do that. So it just. Stayed with him. It made him happy, no matter how lame that was. How pathetic that something so simple, so small, so not even worth talking about…
So, no, he would never hurt Zoe.
He wished more people were like Zoe. Fuck, he wished he was more like her himself.
But he was just. Evan. The loser. Crying and sniffing in front of her brother who was just looking out for her. Who found a weird letter mentionning his sister and got worried, cause that’s what brothers do, Evan imagine. And it’s nice. He’s glad Zoe has someone to protect her. It’s just.
He wished… Connor hadn’t assumed that. Cause it’s gross. And he gets it. Why people look at him and see something gross, something so creepy, but still. It’s mean. And he didn’t deserve it. Probably.
"I don’t…" he tried, between some gross sniffing, head down.
"Hm?"
"It-It’s not like…"
"What?"
The pressure wasn’t as bad on his finger but he was still scared. And ashamed. At least they were alone in this corner of the library. And no one came over to shush at him when he yelled earlier. But it was also scary. That no one did. That’s why he thought Zoe was so cool. She didn’t have to see if he was ok, but she still did. Would be nice if more people did that.
The sniffing sounded so gross. And he couldn’t wipe his nose with the hand Connor was holding. And the other one he had to. Keep on the letter, he thought. Because what if Connor tried to read it aloud again? It was too embarrassing. He’d rather cry lamely in front of him than have that happen.
"Hey?" Connor called "Dear. Evan. Hansen." he said each word with force, like it was a joke. Like Evan’s entire existence was a joke, even his name. "Explain this shit to me. Now. Explain. Give me something, anything, even bullshit. Give me one full sentence. Give me, just." he stopped to breath. It sounded painful. "Anything. Give me anything."
Evan had always been bad at reading people’s emotions. And it felt bad, anyway, to try and guess. Like it wasn’t his place, and he was being rude. And what if he was wrong? So, most of the time, he didn’t try. He just. Accepted that the movie was confusing. You can enjoy a movie even without getting it. Anyway, he could tell Connor was angry, that much was obvious. But he thought. There was something else here. He just had no clue what. And. It felt bad. It actually felt bad, to not be getting it. Like he was missing a whole plot point. Like a dumbass.
So he breathed in. Shakily. Breathed out. In. And out. It sounded bad, as he was still sniffing, like a hiccup. Like he had never learned to breath correctly. In his entire life. Yeah. He was a joke.
Connor waited. Still holding his finger, but the strenght had been lost. They were just sitting next to each other, turned toward each other, way way too close, it was embarrassing, on top of scary and confusing. Good thing no one was there to see the whole thing. Good thing he missed lunch to write… to do his stupid therapist homework which didn’t help and only put him in terrible situations.
"I, um…" he tried. Swallowed. "This. The, letter, it uh. It’s my. My therapist?" no clue why he said it like a question "Um, I, I have… to. Write. Like. A letter to. Myself? A-and." it’s ok, it’s ok, even if he sounds stupid, and pathetic, it’s better than. Connor thinking he’s about to hurt his sister. Holy shit that’s so creepy. He’d rather he pathetic than creepy. "Like… why. Today will be good. Because. I… have." he paused, sniffed, fuck "A-anxiety, yeah? Like. Really bad. And. Need the help."
It was surprising that Connor just listened to him. Just waited. The both of them, they had their head down. Almost touching, almost. Weirdly. Intimate? Like best friends sharing a secret? What the hell. So weird.
Connor doesn’t say anything, he just listen. He doesn’t move. doesn’t nod. Just.
Listen.
"Um, so I have to, like… basically lie? Pretend that. Today will be good. And… and like, why. Give reasons." the sniffing wasn’t as bad anymore, he was glad for that "And Zoe," the grip on his finger got thighter there, just barely "s-she… was nice? To me. Y… esterday." he paused, had to, not necessarely to breath, but just because. His heart needed it. "And… it was. The only… nice thing that. Happened. Yesterday…"
Silence.
He licked his own lips. But even his tongue was uncomfortably dry. A gross sticky mass in his mouth. He was tired. Of this, of everything, of himself. But he had to continue. To make sure Connor knew, that he gets it, that. Evan is a mess, sure, not worth talking to, yeah, but he’s not. He would never. And in the first place…
"It’s not l-love?" he murmured, too embarrassed to say it louder than that "I just… i’m grateful. To her. And… and like. I-I guess. I wish. And I know it’s never gonna happen cause duh, but. If. If I was. Less of a mess, then maybe. Maybe she would. Be… my friend? Or something. Or just." god, he was so pathetic. No one would want to be friend with him. If he made a clone of himself, even his clone wouldn’t want to hang out with him. And he wouldn’t blame Evan-bis. Cause duh. He breathed "It… it was stupid. Sorry? I would never. Like, she’s. Because she’s nice… even to someone like me."
A laugh. Or something like a laugh. Trying to be a laugh, coming from Connor, his head still down, so Evan had no clue what face he was making.
"That’s so fuckin sad, dude."
Evan breathed weird; like air got stuck in his throat, on its way to his lungs.
"Y-yeah. I know."
"You, what? You have no friends, then?" Connor asked.
"Um. I. W-well. Jared is like… a family friend."
A beat. "What’s a family friend?"
Evan closed his eyes, like it would help make this less painful "Um. He, uh. He has to be my friend? Cause… his mom… forces him. Because, um. His mom, and mine, they’re friends. So. Yeah."
Connor sort of laughed again "Fuck."
"Yeah."
He shook his head, pulling himself back. Finally giving Evan space. But didn’t let go of his finger, not yet. Evan wondered when he’ll be getting it back, if ever. Were they glued together now?
Connor slid the paper from under Evan’s cast. Evan gasp at that, but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he reads it again, in his head this time. Stares at it for too long. It’s not a long letter. Why does he need to do that? Couldn’t he just drop it, and pretend none of this ever happened? Couldn’t they just… move on? And never speak to each other again.
"So this was just some bullshit."
Evan blinks. Looks at Connor. Who’s not looking at him, which is good. And it’s strange. He’d never looked at Connor so much before. Knew. Vaguely. What the guy looks like. Could describe his appearance, a bit. Not in details, but enough. But now that he’s actually looking, it feels. Suddenly, ah, yeah. Connor Murphy. He’s a real person, not a concept. He’s not just the guy with a shit reputation, the guy Jared loves to talk shit about, not just Zoe’s brother.
He’s just. A guy.
"What?" Evan ask.
Connor puts the paper down. His fingers on it. His nails are painted black.
"It’s bullshit. It’s not really how you feel. I thought…" he looked away, somewhere that seemed so far from their school library, so far from anything "dunno what I thought."
Did he forget he was still holding Evan’s finger? Did he lose sensation in his hand? Was he doing it on purpose? Why, like, to freak him out? Evan licked his lips again. He was so thirsty.
"Um, I guess? If. Like… if i were to write a letter, for real. About my day. It wouldn’t be pretty." he wasn’t sure why he was telling Connor that.
"Yeah?" Connor asked, eyes still lost somewhere.
"Yeah… i’m not. A positive type of person. I don’t. Know how to be. Anyway." he was so tired, a nap would be nice right then "So… but my therapist wouldn’t like it. Nor my mom. Or anyone. So I don’t. Write anything that I actually feel, since. It’s not my goal, to make people unhappy. It just…" he laugh there, not on purpose. It’s a sad sound "It just happens, a lot. I’m good at it? Making people feel bad. It’s a shitty talent. If it was just me I was bumming out it would be fine I guess, would be whatever but I. H-hate." he stumble on the word hate like chewing on food he’d rather spit out than keep in his mouth "How my mom looks at… me."
"Yeah?" Connor ask again, broken record.
He’s probably just bored, or whatever. Doesn’t actually care to listen to what Evan Hansen, of all people, have to say. No one cares. Because, again, he has nothing nice to say. Nothing positive. He makes people run away. So why. Is Connor still there? And why won’t he fuckin let go of his finger? He wants to scratch around his cast, but Connor won’t free his hostage. Rude.
"She just. Ugh, I dunno. She wants me to be happy, be better. But to be better, I have to be different. To change. And she says she loves me, but. Like…" and it was unfair of him to complain, because she does so much. His mom is always so tired. And she tries, she really does. And she deserves better, so much better, but she’s stuck with him. "She looks at me and she. I don’t know what she sees. But it must be so pathetic cause she always looks like. She tries so hard not to cry. And I wish…" he wishes many things "just, that. I could be. Better. Someone else. For her. I’d kill myself and. Let something, some kind of. Monster, or alien, or whatever that will have my body. Just let it possess me if it promise that it’ll make my mom proud. Instead of me. Since I. I have. No clue. How to do it…"
He guess, that he has nothing to lose, telling this to Connor Murphy. It’s not like the guy has a good opinion of him to ruin. Not that he cares about him. Not that they know each other, or have any reason to speak to each other ever again after this. So it’s fine. It’s fine.
Evan doesn’t even mind having lost his finger at this point either. It’s warm, at least. Doesn’t feel too bad. Not like earlier, when Connor was trying to hurt him, scare him. Now it just feels. Like they’re getting stuck on their seats. Like their feet are merging with the floor, soon to break the foundations of the building, to let their roots touch the earth. Trees wannabees.
The image makes him smile, just slightly.
Connor must have been looking at him at some point, around the same time Evan looked away. Because he noticed the smile. And let his head fall, almost touching the table, to look straight at Evan’s eyes, which were down. Down, down, down, waiting to see their roots grow.
So yeah, Evan noticed him look. And it should have been embarrassing, but at that point. He didn’t have the energy to feel this, or anything, anymore. So he just let him look, and he let him hold his finger, and he let him make his own idea about what Evan told him. Because. Who cares.
"You’re a weirdo, Evan Hansen."
Evan laughed.
Actually laughed. Aloud. Eyes closed, mouth open, and everything.
Cause yeah.