Chapter Text
For Jared Kleinman, April Fool’s Day had always held a certain appeal.
Not that Jared was the type to love pranks—no, he had no interest in yanking chairs out from under people,nor going through the tedious process of replacing Oreo cream with toothpaste. Instead, his mouth was his weapon of choice for embracing the spirit of the day: casually unleashing a flood of jokes that would normally earn him nothing but eye rolls, tossing out a cutting piece of wordplay and striding away with laughter before the other person even had time to process it, leaving them standing there wondering whether Jared was laughing at the joke or at themselves. This was Jared's standard routine for April Fools' Day.
What he never saw coming was that the universe would suddenly decide, one April 1st, that it was time for him to experience a taste of his own medicine.
By now, Jared was sitting in a meticulously decorated café, dressed sharply, his hair clearly having been styled with considerable effort. He drummed his fingers against the table in irritation, gaze flickering between the clock on the wall and the café’s entrance. The minute hand had already reached 2:38. Damn it. Nearly ten minutes past the agreed-upon time, and the person he was waiting for still hadn’t shown up.
Jared mentally cursed the date—Mark—into oblivion. Seriously, had the guy choked on his shaving cream before leaving the house? Or was he planning to stand him up on their very first date? Either way, Jared figured he was getting a first-hand lesson in being fooled on April Fool’s Day. That was a pretty new experience for him.
He unlocked his phone again, aggressively swiping through his messages as if his glare alone could burn a hole through the screen. But there was nothing—except for some spam ads and those stupid streak reminders from Duolingo.
Fine. Jared leaned back into his seat, feeling as sour as the lemonade in his glass, which was quickly losing its chill with his hands covered the glass. He never should have expected the guy to get his number and have the decency to send a single text. Just like he never should have agreed to come in the first place—especially with someone he didn’t even have a picture of.
Yeah, this was a blind date. Jared’s first-ever blind date. And he swore it would be the last.
To be fair, showing up here wasn’t entirely his own decision. This blind date was more the work of his friend and coworker, Cady Heron. They worked as programmers at the same gaming company. They’d been friends for nearly a year, and Jared still couldn’t figure out how two people who seemed so completely different had ended up bonding. Cady was blonde, outgoing, and had the kind of looks that could have placed her at the popular table in high school—even in the running for homecoming queen.
And Jared… well, he was the type who had spent his high school years sitting alone at a lunch table with his computer, using his few opportunities to speak as a platform to tear into the "high school Darwinism" of homecoming party before spending the actual event at home playing video games.
Still, somehow, they’d become friends. Maybe it was the repeated lunch run-ins at a restaurant near the office, paired with their eerily similar tastes. Maybe it was the fact that beneath Cady’s homecomming-qeen exterior, she had a hidden nerd side (for example, she had actually been on the math team in high school—Jared had to respect the courage it took to commit what he considered social suicide). Maybe it was that Cady’s straightforwardness had a way of breaking through the defensive shell he’d built out of sharp humor. She’d once told Jared that he reminded her of her first human friend, Janis—just a more sarcastic, more guarded version. Or maybe it was simply that after years of personal growth, Jared was no longer as much of a jerk as he used to be, and the universe had decided he deserved a healthy friendship instead of eternal solitude. Who knew? Either way, Jared considered Cady a pretty good friend.
That was, until she decided to start ruining his weekends.
It happened one Thursday during lunch. Jared and Cady were at their usual spot near the office, eating together like always. Jared poked at his teriyaki chicken with his fork, well aware that he was practically abusing his food, but he didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.
“I’m telling you, I’m not going,” he repeated impatiently, then added, as if for good measure, “Besides, I already have plans.”
Cady blinked.
“What plans? I thought you always had a pretty open schedule on weekends.”
“Uh… my plans are to participate in a globally popular intellectual and recreational activity that sharpens reaction time and cognitive skills, while also providing some fine motor skill exercise—”
“Most people call that ‘playing video games.’”
“Come on—what’s wrong with playing video games?” Jared groaned in frustration, annoyed at how easily she’d seen through him. “Why do I have to go meet some… what’s his name again?”
“Mark.”
“Mark,” he repeated. “That’s his name?”
“Yep,” Cady said through a mouthful of whole-wheat bread, her voice slightly muffled. “That’s what my friend Karen said, at least.”
“Didn’t you tell me Karen couldn’t even spell ‘orange’ in high school? How can you be sure she didn’t get his name wrong?”
“Okay, sure, that happened… but his work badge said Mark too. I think I mentioned he works at a national park nearby, right?”
“I don’t know, did you?”
“Anyway, Karen met him there a few months ago,” she continued, ignoring his prickly tone. “I’ve run into him once while hiking—never really had a full conversation, but we said hi. For now, I can give you the basics: he’s bi, has a stable job, and seems like a nice guy. Pretty easygoing.”
“I never thought I’d reach a point in life where I needed someone to set me up,” Jared said dryly, finally taking a bite of his now-mangled chicken.
“Isn’t that what friends do?” Cady patted him on the back in a show of camaraderie. “Okay, full disclosure: I’ve only had about six years of experience in the whole ‘having human friends’ thing, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve heard. You know, friends support each other, help each other find happiness—”
“That’s sappy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can tell you’re holding back tears. Anyway, if you’re in, you can meet him on April 1st at 2:30 PM at that café nearby. The one called ‘Planet.’”
“April 1st? Who goes on a first date on April Fool’s Day?” Jared questioned, then sighed and shook his head. “I think I’ll pass. Thanks, though.”
He got up, grabbing his plate of chicken, which he’d practically reduced to a molecular gastronomy experiment. But before he could walk away, he caught the look on Cady’s face. Jared felt a sudden sense of dread. Usually, when this math prodigy had that expression, it meant she’d just solved a particularly difficult problem.
“Not ready to date yet?” Cady asked softly. Her tone had softened, and for a moment, Jared thought she might finally let him off the hook. He nodded eagerly.
“Yeah, exactly. I just don’t think I’m suited for—”
“You haven’t gotten over him yet, have you?”
See? See? Jared cursed internally. This was what happened when you trusted people. You never knew when the secrets you shared would come back to haunt you, and you never realized how fast they could see right through your act. “Come on, Cady. You can’t just—”
“Of course I can.”
“No, no, no. We agreed not to talk about this.”
“We didn’t sign a contract.”
“Oh my God, what was I thinking telling you that? I should never have drunk so much at that party.” Jared buried his face in his hands, letting out a deep, desperate sigh. “How do you have no sense of a verbal agreement? That’s still a contract!”
“Fine. Call me a contract breaker, then.” Cady’s voice softened again. “Jared, I know you’ve known him since you were kids, and I get that connections like that are rare. When I was eight, none of my closest friends even had hands… but still, I’ve seen animals that refused to migrate and ended up starving or getting eaten by hyenas.”
“So… what, you’re saying I should move?” Jared tried to make sense of Cady’s signature Animal Planet metaphors.
“I’m saying you should move on.” She paused. “It’s been five years since you two parted ways, right?”
“I don’t know… Cady,” he said, running a hand through his already messy fringe. “ Really. What if I move on, migrate like you said, and then get eaten by a tiger on the other side?”
“That’s not even possible—there aren’t any tigers in the African savanna. If you want to get eaten by a tiger, you’d have to go to India,” she corrected without missing a beat.
“Fine, you know what I mean.”
“Jared, you’re not going to get eaten by a tiger. I’m pretty sure. It’s just… you don’t want to stay stuck like this forever, right? Give it a try. If the grass isn’t greener on the other side, you can always leave. Simple as that.”
Jared peeked at Cady through his fingers. She blinked back at him once again.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go,” he finally caved. “But you are not allowed to bring him up again.”
“Deal!”
“No mentioning him, no hinting at him, no giving me that ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look.” “
Got it!” Cady chirped. She stood up and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. “Sunday, 2:30 PM. Don’t be late! Wish you good luck!”
“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered. “Hope your judgment is as good as you say it is.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t work at a matchmaking agency, but I’ve set up plenty of successful couples. In high school, I helped my friend Janis get together with Kevin from the math team, and there was also…”
“And?”
“And… don’t forget, I used to help animals pair up too. There was this one male wildebeest—”
“Okay, okay,” Jared cut her off. There had already been more Animal Planet in this conversation than he could handle. “I believe you, Cady. I’ll go.”
So that was why Jared Kleinman was sitting alone in this café, restlessly drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for a date who seemed destined to never arrive.
It would be easy to say he was only there because a friend had guilted him into it. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Sure, Jared was used to being alone. He wasn’t the type to create dating profiles or sign up for matchmaking services, waiting eagerly for love to find him. But just because he didn’t go looking didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about what it might be like. He couldn’t pretend that Cady’s words hadn’t struck a chord. If he really wasn’t as much of a jerk as he used to be, then maybe—just maybe—he deserved more than just friendship. Maybe he deserved love, too.
Besides,he has never stopped counting the distance between him and his past.
Five years. Five years since the Connor Project had ended. Five years since he’d last spoken to him. They had never been best friends, exactly, but there had always been something—an invisible thread connecting them, giving each a place in the other’s lonely existence. Jared didn’t know exactly when they’d started drifting apart. He didn’t even know who to blame. He’d tried to fix things… made a few futile attempts to mend what was already fraying. But a bond that fragile couldn’t be repaired with a couple of half-hearted invitations. In the end, it was an argument—brief and brutal—that snapped the thread for good. Compared to eight years of history, that minute-long fight felt almost absurdly short.
After that, the occasional texts and brief exchanges vanished from their lives. All that remained were the accidental glances in hallways and classrooms—always quickly avoided—and, when unavoidable, an awkward “hello.” Eventually Jared had had enough. He applied to a university thousands of miles away from home, desperate to outrun the past and reinvent himself, to have a so-called “fresh start.” In a way, he’d succeeded. Now he had a decent job, a decent life, in California—thousands of miles away from his hometown. That distance had drawn a sharp line between Jared and his past, and it had made sure that he and that person disappeared completely from each other’s lives, their chances of ever meeting again close to zero.
Maybe that was just how the universe worked. It brought people together, made them part of the roughly 150 people you might know in a lifetime, and then—because of school, moving away, fights, breakups, divorce, whatever—it pulled them apart, turning them back into two strangers among eight billion. That was just part of growing up. Statistically speaking, the odds of them still being in touch were slim to none, so there was no point in making a big deal out of it.
But… well, even though Jared’s rational mind explained all of this perfectly clearly, humans were emotional creatures. Some things—even if he’d never had the courage to touch them again—refused to fade with time. The tangled mess of regret, resentment, and longing hadn’t disappeared, not even after he’d left home and reinvented himself. Sometimes Jared felt like a kid who’d accidentally broken a plastic vase but never had the guts to clean up the pieces. And though the shards had been worn smooth by time, they still lay there, not degrading, still sending a dull, unpleasant sting through him whenever he accidentally brushed against them.
So if you asked Jared whether he’d truly moved on, he still couldn’t give you a clear answer. But he wanted to move on—he genuinely wanted to.
And maybe, a date was a decent place to start.
The minute hand now pointed to 2:40. The café’s soft background music played on, doing absolutely nothing to soothe Jared’s nerves. He felt a cocktail of emotions churning in his stomach—a mix of irritation, anxiety, and a little bit of anticipation—all of it creating a burning sensation, with the irritation growing by the second.
Whatever force had pushed him here, Jared was now thoroughly regretting his decision. He turned to glance at the glass door behind him for the hundredth time and thought that if he ended up with a neck condition from all this swiveling, that Mark guy was definitely paying his medical bills. Seriously, who did he think he was? No one had the right to—
Ding. The cheerful chime of the door’s bell. The door of Planet Café swung open. This time, a young man was standing outside. Light poured in as he pushed aside the door curtain—the afternoon sun in Los Angeles was bright, almost blinding. Jared squinted. The man’s face, backlit, was blurry and indistinct. Then he stepped inside and turned around, and Jared saw his face clearly.
For an instant, his heart seemed to skip a beat. Then the sound of his own pulse roared in his ears, nearly deafening.
NO.
This couldn’t be.
For a split second, Jared had an absurd thought: maybe some evil quantum computer had hacked into his brain and tampered with his optic nerves, making him hallucinate. Or maybe everything that had happened today was just a terrible dream, and he still hadn’t woken up. That couldn’t be the person he thought he was—out of the tens of thousands of single men in this city, there was no way Jared would run into him. Besides, his date was supposed to be named Mark, not—
Oh. Mark. Why hadn’t he thought of it? He did know someone named Mark, after all.
Fragments of memory tumbled out like scraps of paper left in a pocket after a wash: a stuttering, stupid, often anxious voice that tightened with nerves; a voice that had been a constant presence in Jared’s life for eight years, something he’d once taken for granted and now could only miss. At the start of every school year, that voice would stammer out a correction to the teacher: from Mark to Evan. And his full name was Mark Evan Hansen.
He looked down at his phone screen, tried his best to stay calm. Sure enough, today was April 1st. For fuck’s sake. Was this some kind of lame April Fool’s prank aimed at him? But even Cady wouldn’t mess with him like this.
Jared sat frozen in his seat, calculating whether he could slip out before the other man noticed him. He didn’t dare look up again. He told himself that the brief glance had been an illusion, while also terrified that it might not be a truly illusion at all.
“Hey,” a voice said beside him, quiet and slightly breathless. “I’m really sorry I’m so late. Traffic was a mess today. I hope you’re not too mad… Are you—”
Jared looked up. The man’s breath caught.
“…Jared?”
It wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t a dream. Either someone who looked uncannily like him playing an April Fool’s joke on Jared. He was standing right there, alive and real—Evan Hansen, the childhood friend he’d known for eight years, the object of his teenage crush, with his flushed face and flustered expression, just like always.
“You’re Jared, right?” After five seconds—or five centuries—of silence, Evan seemed to decide that they couldn’t just stare at each other forever, and finally forced out the words: “It’s you, I mean… they only told me your name was Jared, but I didn’t know you were…”
Jared sighed and extended a hand toward Evan. “It’s me. Jared Kleinman. In the flesh.”
Evan hesitated for a moment, quickly wiped his palm on his pants, and took Jared’s hand. Jared could feel that his hand was clammy. He looked up at Evan, not sure what expression Evan would find in his eyes. Still, he managed a semblance of politeness, pulling the corner of his mouth into what he hoped was a civil greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Mark.”
He deliberately sharpened the final “k,” making it crisp and clear. Evan seemed to freeze again, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he said nothing, just sat down across from Jared.
A friendly tip from Jared Kleinman: before agreeing to a blind date with someone, try your best to find out their full name.
Luckily, he wouldn’t need to use this valuable piece of advice anymore.Because in Jared Kleinman’s entire life, this was the only date he’d ever been on.
And he swore it would be his last.