Chapter Text
Evan’s POV
I didn’t want to be a half-blood.
Being a half-blood is scary. You have to deal with those irritable gods, choose your words carefully so you don’t get fried by Zeus’s high-voltage lightning.
Don’t think you can survive by being clever around the gods, there are monsters everywhere, waiting in the dark to eat you for dinner.
And trust me, they don’t care if you have social anxiety or not.
Well, let’s go back to the beginning of this story, back to where the trouble started.
How did I become a half-blood?
I place my fingers on the keyboard, staring at the blank Word doc I just opened on my computer.
Dear Evan Hansen,
Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why.
That’s all I’ve got.
My therapist, Dr. Sherman, tells me to write a letter to myself every day.
“To explore yourself, to think positively,” he says.
Well, if you ask me what I think, it’s complete bullshit.
If yesterday and the days before weren’t amazing, why would today be any different?
My mom just called. She said she can’t pick me up from school this afternoon because she has to fill in for a sick nurse.
So I have to take the bus to Dr. Sherman’s office.
Great. Alone again.
Dad’s gone, Mom’s at work, and I have no friends.
I tap my fingers on the keyboard, trying to squeeze out an idea for my letter.
Come on, Evan Hansen! Use your imagination. Write what they want to read.
Just as my brain feels like it’s going to freaking explode from all these “inspirational” thoughts, a dark figure suddenly appears behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
I jump up, nearly falling out of my chair.
It’s Connor. Connor Murphy, the guy who pushed me this morning.
I don’t remember him being in the computer lab just now. How did he get behind me?
“I-I was doing my homework,” I say, turning around so I can see his eyes, gray-blue, cool, dark.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Connor says.
At first, I think he means I’m sitting in his spot and he’s going to kick me out.
But then I see his eyes. There’s dread in them, not because of me. Definitely not.
He could beat me up anytime he wanted.
“You should go. They’re coming,” Connor repeats, glancing around nervously.
“What?”
“Stand up.”
Connor grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet.
“What the hell, ?”
“Come on.” Connor drags me toward the door, fear replacing the anger he always seems to carry.
“You don’t want to die here, right?”
“Die here? Wha- ”
Before I can finish, a low, hoarse growl echoes from outside the door.
“Holy shit.” Connor grits his teeth, muttering a curse. “Stay behind me, okay?”
“Wait, I don’t understand! What’s happening? What’s that sound?”
I shout, not even realizing I’m clutching Connor’s hand tightly.
“The Gorgons,” Connor says.
“Gorgons?” I squeak. “You mean those women with snake hair from Greek mythology?”
Connor nods. And then, in an instant, a black sword appears in his hand.
“Oh my god! How did you get that?!” I yell, pointing at the sword.
“Relax, it’s just a sword.” Connor waves his hand like having a weapon appear out of nowhere is completely normal.
Then, the Gorgons come out.
I should scream, but I can’t.
Stheno and Euryale appear first, their green snake hair hissing in the air.
“There you are, little Ghost King.” Stheno licks her fingers, then turns her gaze toward me.
“And you too, golden boy.”