Chapter Text
He almost felt like he could hear the stars.
They were there, just out the window, twinkling. Their light bounced around his skull, reverberating and combining with the ticking of the clock and the thundering of his heart. It was a symphony of anxiety, finely tuned to his particular sensory hell, and he wanted it to be over.
He clenched his free hand, letting his nails dig into his palm. They were tiny crescents, just like the moon overhead. On another night — the kind where his head and heart were clear — he may have gone out to enjoy it.
But tonight he was stuck waiting. It was agonizing, and then he started to think about what he may say to the delivery man. Those thoughts became the melody of his internal symphony, accentuated by the harmony of his anxieties.
Thank you, have a nice evening!
No, wait, that sounds stupid.
Thanks, goodnight!
That’s too short. And weirdly personal???
Thanks, have a nice night!
Thanks, have a nice night.
Thankshaveanicenight.
The words were running together, and he knew that as fast as they were moving now, they’d get caught in his throat when he actually had to say them out loud.
He pick-pick-picked at his cast. It was solid, and real, and distracted him from the tick-tick-ticking of the clock on the wall.
He didn’t know how he felt. Nauseous, mostly — although from fear or hunger, he couldn’t tell. Probably both?
Oh, yeah, no, definitely both. His tummy wouldn’t have done that at the sound of the doorbell if it wasn’t both — a little leap of terror into a backflip of excitement.
He felt his palms start to sweat, and hoped against all hopes that he wouldn’t drop his change and have to crawl around on the floor like an idiot.
“Delivery for Evan Hansen?” The pizza person was tired. Oh, Evan didn’t want to take too much of his time, they must’ve been so busy —
“Yes!” He squeaked.
“That’ll be $13.21.”
Evan quietly passed over a twenty, and as soon as he had the pizza in his hands, rushed out a quick, “Thankyouhaveagoodnight!” His face burned and he slammed the door closed, leaning against it.
Yikes. But at least he had the sweet, greasy release of pizza waiting for him.
A night in with a pizza and a good web novel sounded just about right. Sleep was…unappealing. And besides, it was best to be awake at night, anyway. Pizza delivery notwithstanding, there was nothing but him and the sky overhead to worry about at night.
His phone buzzed. He couldn’t help the smile that graced his face.
esspresso: Yo lore, I’ve got a new story I’m not sure about. Wanna read it for me??
loreax: a new entry of the am-thology?
esspresso: Really, is that what you’re calling it these days??
loreax: not my fault you overuse that motif like you learned to write from les mis
esspresso: I’m making a statement!!
loreax: you’re cheating on conveying your themes.
esspresso: Multiple things can be true!!!
loreax: lol sure
esspresso: So are you gonna read it or not?
loreax: obviously i wanna read it, gimme
Well, that determined what, exactly, Evan would be reading. He put the pizza box on the counter, grabbed a slice, and proceeded to flop on the couch, opening up the doc that esspresso had sent over.
While stargirl had come from the heavens, her brother had risen from the earth itself. Often, their parents spun it as if she were light and he was life itself, springing anew from the ground. But even if that were true, they still seemed ashamed of his dirt hair and grass-stained clothes…
***
Connor smiled into his phone, feeling the little warm glow inside him reflect out onto the screen.
loreax: damn, rip earthboy
loreax: i kinda love that bit at the end, tho.
loreax: where she gets to make a wish on her own heart???
loreax: and we don’t get to know what she wished for.
loreax: like. i like to think she brought back her brother.
loreax: do you think it was possible for her to do that??
loreax: to breathe life back into that clay form she found in the river??
esspresso: I’m not sure.
esspresso: I don’t think he wanted to come back.
loreax: stars, he’s so opherlia coded.
loreax: *ophelia
esspresso: ….whoops
esspresso: Did that by accident lmaoooo
loreax: really?? with the flowers and the river and?? What??
esspresso: Bestie I Hate Shakespeare. I am residetn Shakespeare Hater™
loreax: lol resident
esspresso: bold coming from “opherlia”
loreax: anyway!!!
loreax: i really like it.
loreax: does it fit with the am-thology, though??
loreax: the protagonist doesn’t change or discover who he is
loreax: his family just finds out who he’s been all along
loreax: and he’s…dead. never sees it.
loreax: it’s really sad.
esspresso: I guess it doesn’t??
esspresso: idk this one got away from me
And, well, it had. He’d sat in front of his laptop, simmering with the kind of barely repressed rage that came with knowing you had to go back to school the next morning, knowing you weren’t ready for it, knowing the kinds of things people would say about you just because they knew you couldn’t do anything about it. And he just let it crack him open, break through his ribs with the kind of all-consuming hurt that he usually reserved for poetry.
loreax: i can tell
loreax: it feels like you.
loreax: …are you okay??
loreax: no pressure to answer!! i know that’s kinda a n invasive question and like, we’re internet friends
loreax: you don’t really know me and i don’t really know you
loreax: i’m here, if you want me, but i can also distract you
loreax: or I could just drop this and never bring it up again if you want???
loreax: but we can always talk, too.
loreax: we’re not just story sharing friends
loreax: i hope
Connor chewed on his bottom lip, working his teeth around the rough edges.
esspresso: School starts again tomorrow.
esspresso: I hate school almost as much as school hates me.
loreax: ah.
loreax: same, tbh
loreax: but i know you
loreax: i don’t know your name but i know your heart
loreax: you’re good and anyone who can’t see that
loreax: they’re stupid and don’t deserve you
esspresso: You’re too nice
loreax: i’m just the right amount of nice for you
loreax: you’re not nice enough to you, i gotta pick up the slack
And oh, there was that foul feeling again. It bubbled in his chest, weaving through his ribs like thorny vines. Here he was, making loreax feel bad for him, this could be ruining their relationship, what was wrong with him, why was he like this, he was — he was just —
— he needed to breathe. To catch his breath. He felt like he was being strangled from the inside out.
loreax: i wish you could see what i see.
loreax: you’re an incredible writer
loreax: and an even better friend
loreax: and i know you can handle tomorrow
loreax: whatever happens
esspresso: You too, alright??
esspresso: I’m here, all day.
esspresso: They can take my happiness
esspresso: But they can’t take my phone!
loreax: lolol, alright
loreax: get some rest, okay??
loreax: we’re. clearly going to talk tomorrow.
loreax: goodnight
esspresso: Goodnight!
Connor flopped into his bed.
Something writhed in his chest, dragging thorns across his ribcage.
He was wide awake.
***
To the girl with a red ribbon in her hair
who was weeping on the river trail
at golden hour in the Sunday light —
everything will be alright.
You were mapping the surface of your skin
tracing the shape of the space you fill
your reflection in the river an Impressionist’s idea
trapped in motion
broken color and light
strung up for all to see.
You were frozen in that moment
a deer in the headlights
staring down the fear that painted you
splitting open your ribs
and exposing your heart to the sunlight.
You looked up at the now-dark sky
and charted the dipper’s compass north.
You alone could see the horizon’s degree
and wherever you’re going
the set in your shoulders says that you’ll be alright.
Everything will be alright.