Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bitter, resentful, spiteful. Jared was a stew of negative emotions. The only thing he found good to add to the pile was drunk.

Stolen alcohol from the liquor cabinet. That he should have been sharing with his friend.

Stupid Evan Hansen. Jared didn't exactly earn being treated with the utmost respect, but Jesus Christ, it seemed pretty low to try to force your friend to write suicidal fanfiction about the guy you wished was your friend.

Not that Jared ever let anyone know how much those kinds of thoughts cross his mind. How easy the assignment would have been. A sick smile grew on his face. It could be cathartic.

Maybe he'd even send them.

***************

Dear Evan Hansen,

Things were going well. I thought things were going well. You made me think I had a chance of connecting with people, but it's time to face the facts. There's a reason I don't have any other friends. You're the only one who ever tolerated me, and it says more about me than it does about you. I'm fucking insufferable, Evan, I'm insufferable and I don't know how to fucking change.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Evan Hansen,

Call me dramatic, but what is any of this for? Another year of suffering, and then what comes after? I'm not good at anything, and I sure as hell am not passionate about anything. Like you have your trees. You know all this useless shit about trees because it's your fucking thing, but what do I have? I have a future as a fucking cashier, so if I don't just put myself out of my misery now I'll have to do it then, and everyone always says I should learn to procrastinate less, right?

I'm being edgy, aren't I? I don't usually show you this side of me. I must be really falling apart.

You know how my parents feel? I'd say disappointed, but it feels like it's turned into flat-out disgust. They don't listen to me, just like everyone else. They don't talk to me, and they certainly don't talk about me. They can't wait for me to move out, I can tell.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Evan Hansen,

Imagine, if you will, if you knew someone famous. Let's say this person is famous for being an inspiration to everyone. Especially people who think that they have no purpose, that they'd be better off dead... Your famous friend proclaims to the world that no one is alone and no one deserves to be forgotten and then blows you off at every chance and straight-up tells you he liked you better as a dead kid. That's gotta hurt, I mean, that's gotta mean that you are some powerfully useless person.

And imagine being petty enough to type all this out and send it as a final ha-ha to the friend who clearly doesn't give a shit. What a shitty move. Yet another reason people will be glad to be rid of me.

Even I can't let that be my last words, though. Shit, Evan. We got ourselves into some messy shit, didn't we? I don't actually blame you for how things went down, everyone has a limit for how long they can stand me. Yours was just longer than most.

But hey, listen, if shit hits the fan, you can blame me. It's no skin off my back. Just don't make any fucking charity organizations in my name, some people want their sad little lives to be forgotten.

Sincerely,
Jared Kleinman

********************

Oh.

Somewhere along the way, this stopped being a cathartic exercise. It became the perfect format for something Jared had been putting off forever.

Because, you know, some nights the only justification to stop himself from trying anything was "I should write a letter first."

But of course, without fail, by that point, he had become too emotionally exhausted to put feelings into words.

But here it was, and he didn't even know that's what he was trying to do.

Fuck.

He sent the emails in a message to Evan, then emptied the bottle of rum. He never admitted how much it burned on the way down, always wanting to seem cool and in-control.

A text came through almost immediately.

A bit late for that.

Jared started laughing nearly uncontrollably. Evan had clearly barely skimmed the top of the message. It was too good to be true, he got to send his message but Evan won't panic over it until long after Jared was gone. Still, he pressed his luck.

It sure is, huh?

Shit, now he needed a plan. He had liked causing himself pain in the past, and he was sure drunk enough to numb it
but there was always an aversion to the idea of leaving someone with that much blood to clean up.

The chandelier would be a classy way to go out. It stood above their front steps and his parents always made such a big deal of it but Jared found it to be hideous. Maybe this will convince them to get rid of it, he laughed to himself.

He was through setting up the rope when his phone rang, screen lighting up with Evan. Why was it so hard to say no to that kid? He picked up, one last time.

"Jared Kleinman, at your servi-"

"I read them." His words were soft, how people speak to a cornered animal. "Jared, let's just talk here. Or-well- first, I guess- have you taken anything?"

"Not enough to do the job." Pills just made him fear that his body would reject them and throw them all up and he'd have nothing to show for his efforts besides a day of puking every ten minutes.

"Are you safe? Right now, are you doing anything that could- hurt you?"

Jared laughed, wishing someone could see him looping his head through the rope as he answered. "No."

"Jared, please."

The laughter came out desperate now, trying to get someone, anyone, to laugh along. It was funny, wasn't it funny? Please think it's funny!

"Jared!" This one made Jared's mouth dry up when he heard it. There was terror there, so much fear... for what?

"Are you worried how they'll see you?" He let the confused silence sink in. "You know, you're kind of a hero now with one dead friend, but if you had another friend who killed themselves it would be a little suspicious, huh? I don't think they'd think you're a bully, though. I think you'll be fine, they'll just think you have really bad luck and pity you."

He started hearing sirens in the far distance. Time was running out. Hurry, hurry. "You didn't call 911 on me, did you?"

"Of course I did!" He sounded exasperated. "Just stay there, I'll-"

"Hey Evan!" The pained smile from earlier came across Jared's face. He climbed over the railing and took a deep breath. He knew there were better last words, but he wanted to go out on a joke. "Sia later!" His voice quivered at the end, and there was an involuntary whimper of protest as he dropped his body to be caught by his throat.

Chapter Text

He didn't break his neck. Which he should have predicted, seeing as he had not much distance to fall.

But he wasn't prepared for the choking, and how long it takes. He also wasn't prepared for how unstable the damn thing seemed. The second his weight hit the end of the rope, he could hear the strain on the chains, on the ceiling. Soon his thoughts were preoccupied, however, with the burning of his lungs, the crushing of his neck.

And then he was fallling, and then- oh, then everything hurt. He could barely process the fact that his windpipe was free-- that he was breathing-- before the pain shocked him. The weight of the chandelier crushed him to the floor and glass shattered around him. He didn't have the mental presence to know if he was cut or simply crushed, if anything was broken, if he could die. He just lay there, struggling to gasp in breaths, not realizing he was crying and the sirens were right outside now.

A hard knock at the door, but his body was in the doorway. "No..." He let out a pathetic sound of protest, just imagining the pain as they forced the door open and shoved him aside to get in. Then someone was standing over him. Oh, thank God, they used the backdoor.

That's when he lost consciousness. He only wished he'd done so sooner.

***********************

He wasn't surprised that he woke up, he knew he hadn't ended up doing enough damage to himself. He could still be annoyed about it, though. Angry, even.

He grew angrier still when he saw the boy who ruined it all, sitting there as if he'd done nothing wrong. Well, that's not right. He looked quite guilty.

"Fuck you, Evan. Asshole." He croaked out. Or something approximating that. His throat was raw, each word was agony.

If Jared's aim was to say something hurtful enough to nullify Evan's excitement at hearing him speak at all, he sure found the closest option. Evan flinched and shrunk into himself.

"Y-you should rest your voice."

Jared went through the motions of a laugh, but ended up with just a jolt of pain in his chest and neck.

"I called your parents..." Evan decided to get the elephant in the room out of the way quickly. "They told me it would be better if they didn't show up- that- that you shouldn't get the 'satisfaction of attention' for 'acting up.'" He shook his head. "I didn't know they were so..." he trailed off.

"Heartless?" Jared rattled. "Don't worry, it's just with me. They love you."

"That's not what I was worried about."

Jared had a hundred retorts formed in his mind, but none to make the pain of speaking worth it. He simply crossed his arms.

Evan looked frustrated, he clearly wanted something from Jared, but knew he wouldn't exactly be in the right if he asked him to speak more.

"I-I didn't know, Jared, I didn't know you felt like-- this. I wouldn't have-- I shouldn't have treated you like I did."

"What does that matter?" He croaked, deciding the pain was worth it, because if Jared was sure of anything, it was that he could turn anything into a fight.

"Huh?"

"So what, I tried to kill myself. Why's that suddenly make it that everyone should've been nicer to me? Maybe I was just an asshole and even I knew it and that's all there is to it."

Evan bit his lip. He didn't feel grand for thinking it, but he wanted to be anywhere but here. "I still should have treated you better, and-"

"But how come that didn't matter until now? Tell me the truth, Ev, were you planning on speaking to me ever again before this?"

Evan couldn't find it in himself to answer. Jared had a talent, for sure. When he was hurt, truly hurt, he could look inside you and find those dark, whispers of thought that flew by. The ones that you were never going to speak, that you wouldn't even acknowledge to yourself that you were terrible enough to think. Jared will find those for you, and speak them aloud, and you will be unable to deny that they came across your mind, that you were awful enough to think that.

"Why did you have to stop me?" This came out quiet, pitiful. "Do you know how much harder it'll be to try again when people are on watch?"

That part of Evan he was ashamed of internally rolled his eyes at this emotional twisting of the knife. It's like Jared just wants Evan to hurt as much as possible. The rest of Evan, oh the rest of him fell for it, feeling the knife twirling his guts around it like spaghetti.

"You aren't going to try again." Evan said firmly, or in a way he imagined being firmly but was wobbly at best in practice. "I won't let you."

"Why do you care? I'm not Connor." I'm not a mystery or a tragedy, you already know everything there is to know about me.

"No, you're not. You're Jared. My friend, Jared, and you're a lot more important to me than he was. Every good memory I have of Connor is a message you sent me as him."

Jared looked like a child whose completely sensical and logical arguments for why he should get what he wanted were being repeatedly rebuked by a "Because I said so."

"Ev... please."

"No!" Evan was angry now. Angry at Jared, because he wasn't just popping back to normal, angry at himself because he didn't see how bad his friend got-- angrier at himself because he couldn't seem to help-- angriest at himself because of that little part of him that didn't believe it when he first read the notes, whose first reaction was denial, insistence that Jared just wanted attention. Yeah, that thing he knew Jared's parents were terrible for saying, it briefly crossed his mind too. He rationalizes it by telling himself Jared just hid his thoughts so well it put Evan in denial when they finally came out. No, my Jared wouldn't kill himself, that's impossible. Plus, he would have rather it been a stunt for attention. Anything but this.

Jared started crying. All this talk of ending his life he had done with a straight face, but now that he knew he wasn't getting out of this, that he would have to continue on and have everyone know, that was too much for him.

"Jared..." Evan said softly.

"No! You did this to me! Do you know what happens now? Now I'm stuck in the hospital until they drug me and I promise not to slit my wrists the second I get out. I get to be poked and prodded and fucking group therapy'd until I start chanting kumbaya with the other freaks."

"I can't apologize for not just letting you die!"

"Then get out!" Jared tried to raise his voice on this one, and by the way his eyes widened and his hand went to his throat, it was a mistake.

Evan took a deep breath. "This button is to call the n-nurse if you need anything, but I'll give you your space if you need it. I'm just a quick call away if you need anything at all, if you want to talk about anything. And yeah, you're not going to be able to get rid of me when you get out of here so enjoy your Evan-free time while you can. And I'm begging you: try to get better."

It was all said very rushed and terse, as Evan was barely keeping it together. He didn't even make it from the room back to the hospital elevator before the tears started falling. Stupid Jared, stupid him. Evan sure was a pathetic excuse for a champion for helping the depressed.