Chapter Text
“So what, is it like a therapy thing?” Connor asks him as he follows Evan into the school building, long legs helping him keep pace even with the way Evan walks like he’s being followed, fast and a little jumpy, eyes never quite leaving the floor. He thinks Connor is probably just purposefully ignoring the very obvious signs of his discomfort.
“W-What?” Evan manages, and then, “Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you talking to me?”
“Your letter, the ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ thing.” Connor responds, hardly answering the question, “Is it for therapy? Or one of those bullshit assignments that’s meant to help you find yourself or whatever. ‘Cause it’s pretty fucking weird, you know. Writing letters to yourself.”
Evan fidgets a little with his shirt, staring pointedly at the wall of lockers on his right hand side, and very decisively not at Connor. He isn’t scared of Connor, really, or at least no more so than most other people in the school. When you’re the kind of person who thinks everyone’s out to get you things like getting shoved, or called a freak, or whatever else, just serve as proof that they really are. At least Connor’s straightforward about it. He’s like a poison dart frog. Colour-coded as a warning sign, except Evan’s never seen Connor wearing anything but the most washed-out clothing. Maybe that’s a warning sign in itself. A glaring ‘do not touch’ that Evan is probably going to ignore. Don’t poke the bear.
“Um. It - yeah. Therapy.”
Connor makes a considering noise under his breath, hovering next to him. Evan attempts not to shrink any further into himself than he already has, pulling his textbooks from his locker and trying not to worry too much about potentially incriminating things that might have been left in said locker. Evan’s never put anything incriminating in his locker. He’s not even sure he owns anything particularly incriminating. He worries about it anyway.
“Anxiety?” Connor asks coolly, like he knows the answer already. It sends a pang of shame through Evan, who moves his mouth soundlessly for a second, trying to figure out a way to reply that doesn’t sound kind of depressing. He gives up, after a minute. Figures it’s not worth the embarrassment of waiting only to come up with nothing anyway.
“Is it that obvious?” he replies instead, going for sarcastic, the way Jared does sometimes, like if you make a joke of it no-one can take you too seriously. It ends up just sounding kind of bitter and sad. He doesn’t think it’s ever worked for Jared, either.
“You used to leave class a lot. Made it kind of obvious, because you’re not exactly subtle about it when you start freaking out. You get nervous around pretty much everyone. I’d get being nervous around me personally, ‘school shooter’ and all, but with you it’s just… everything.”
Connor cuts himself off after that, glancing to the side like he’s not sure he wants to meet Evan’s eyes. Evan, to his credit, pretends he’s not weirdly touched that someone actually noticed his absences, and equally not kind of horrified that he’s so messed up even Connor noticed.
“Sorry about that whole thing yesterday.” Connor continues, looking even more uncomfortable with the situation than he had been already, shifting gently from one foot to the other. He opens his mouth like he’s going to try and justify it, before he gives up and just waits for Evan to reply.
Evan had sort of imagined Connor apologising, some weird fantasy he’d concocted late the night before when he’d been feeling particularly self-pitying. He hadn’t thought anything would come of it, of course, because as much as he doesn’t like to pay too much heed to the rumours he hears about the other students, he knows at least some of the ones about Conor are true. In his mind it had come out stilted, kind of insincere. He’d thought it might be threatening somehow.
It doesn’t sound like any of those things. Connor sounds like he means it, as much as the whole situation pains him, and Evan can’t help but find himself feeling weirdly pleased about it. Connor obviously doesn’t want to get into it any more than he already has done, and Evan can’t blame him, either, given that they’re having this talk in the middle of the school hallways (plus the fact that Connor has a reputation, the kind he might actually want to preserve) - but it is far, far more than he’d expected. He tries to hide his surprise.
“Uh -”
“Don’t make it a thing. But I like… get it. And I felt kinda weird losing it at some kid I barely know. Especially if you’re dealing with whatever,” Connor says, raising a hand to his head and performing a weird circular gesture that Evan guesses is his way of indicating ‘mental health stuff’. “So. Yeah.”
“It’s okay,” Evan says. He doesn’t stop to think about it, but Connor, for all the stories he’s heard about him and his outbursts the day before, seems like he’s trying.
Connor blinks for a second, then smiles, just a little. It’s barely even noticeable. “Okay.”
He turns, looking as though he’s going to leave, and then pauses for a second, one hand hooked loosely around the strap of his messenger bag.
Oh, Evan thinks, just for a second, staring at Connor’s long fingers curled gently around the fabric, all fluid motion, black nails chipped and worn. He has really nice hands.
“You’re okay, right?” Connor asks, voice quiet enough that Evan’s pretty confident no-one else has heard, and that that was exactly his intention. “Just - like -”
He sounds nervous, almost. His voice doesn’t shake, he doesn’t stutter, but everything comes out a little stilted. This isn’t awkwardness - Connor’s confident, but he’s not infallible, and Evan’s heard him struggle to find words before, sometimes. He’s heard Connor sound awkward. It’s not that.
“Like.” Connor pauses again, huffing slightly and shoving his hands into his pockets like a sullen teenager (Evan supposes in many ways he is), glaring at a student across the hall. Evan’s pretty sure they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. “Your letter was. You know. And just - we don’t know each other or whatever, and I get that you’re just trying to be a nice person by letting me sign your cast and apologise and shit. We’re not friends. But. Like. If you ever need to talk about it or whatever, you can. Talk. To me. If you want?”
Evan isn’t really sure what to say to that.
“This was fucking stupid. I’m going to go,” Connor continues, hurriedly, a flush creeping over his neck, waving his hands in front of him in an expression of embarrassment Evan’s pretty sure he’s never seen Connor perform in his life. He’s sure Jared would’ve had a field day just watching it.
“No, wait -” Evan says, reaching out and placing a hand on top of Connor’s arm. He regrets it immediately, hates himself and hates that he hates himself for it, because he doesn’t make impulsive decisions, and Connor’s been - nice, friendly, even, but he’s also Connor Murphy, and he’s heard the stories. He should’ve just let Connor go, and instead he’s forcing the issue, making him uncomfortable, and he doesn’t even know what he’d been planning on saying, what he could possibly say that wouldn’t sound kind of incredibly, pathetically grateful.
“I, um,” Evan starts, pausing and trying to think of how he could possibly rectify things now, except Connor glances to his side like he’s going to try to make another break for it, tensing up and recoiling a little, and - Evan just starts talking. “That - that’d be really nice, actually. I don’t - I’m really, really bad at, like. Talking. I mean, I don’t even think I’ve had a real friend since like, 1st grade,” he continues, laughing and pretending he can’t hear how sad he sounds, “so I’m not great at conversations and that kind of thing. Being social, I mean - and sometimes, I like. Can’t talk. And I don’t know even know if I can talk about this stuff anyway, out loud, and I’m kind of worried you might end up hating me, like I really don’t want to be annoying and I know it makes me sound kind of dumb, but.” Evan takes a breath, and stares at his shoes. “We can try, maybe. If you weren’t just saying that to be nice, or because you felt sorry for me or something.”
Connor stands stock still, apparently just as lost for words as Evan feels. He glances up at him, noting his furrowed brow and trying not to take that to mean he’s made some kind of horrible mistake. He can already feel the shame and regret pooling in his gut. He decides he was probably better off not looking at Connor, and shuts his locker, waiting for the other boy to tell Evan he didn’t actually mean it, to shove him again or to just walk off or -
“Okay. Okay, sure,” Connor says, instead, and then because Connor is apparently an enigma like no other, he rummages through his bag, and pulls out a sharpie. And in a blocky, bunched scrawl, under his name, still the only name on Evan’s cast, he writes his phone number. Then he puts his pen back into his bag, shifts it so that it’s at his side instead of awkwardly held in front of him, and goes to leave.
He pauses, again. Evan wonders for a moment what else could he possibly do to shift Evan’s world view any further off its axis than he has done already today, and then, whether Connor has always seemed this indecisive about things.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hansen,” Connor says, before he runs a hand through his hair and starts walking down the rest of the corridor. Evan’s eyes follow him the whole way, until he turns the corner, and only then does he turn back to his locker.
He thinks he’s going to be late to first period. He thinks the thought should worry him more than it does.
Evan tells Jared. He knows its a bad idea long before he does it, but it’s not like there’s anyone else he can talk to about it, and he figures as long as he doesn’t go into too much detail Jared probably won’t make into a whole thing. He does, of course.
“Oh my god,” Jared manages to get out between huffs of laughter that Evan’s pretty sure are mostly for show, given that the situation is nowhere near as funny as he’s making it out to be. “So what, you’re like, bff’s with tall, dark and emo now?”
Evan makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and resting his head on his arms, like just being around Jared had drained him of all of his energy. He makes sure his eyes are just visible enough over his cast that he can continue glaring at his sometimes-friend.
Jared stops laughing for a second as he makes eye contact with Evan, taking a steady breath like he’s trying to compose himself. It doesn’t last long. His eyes drift towards Evan’s cast and his mouth immediately quirks up, the way it always does when he’s trying not to lose it over whatever stupid thing Evan’s got himself into today. Evan scowls harder.
Still barely holding back his laughter Jared leans forward in his seat, tapping Evan’s cast with his index finger, right where Evan knows Connor’s number is written. “So,” he says, grinning far too toothily for Evan’s liking.
“Shut up.”
“What is it with you and the Murphys, dude?” Jared asks, only half-mocking him.
Evan grimaces, sitting up a little straighter and tugging on his shirt in an attempt to straighten out its nonexistent creases. He doesn’t exactly have an answer. And it’s not like he has a thing for the Murphys, or with them, or whatever Jared’s getting at - he’s spoken to Connor a handful of times, and he’s not sure they were proper conversations either. Zoe, on the other hand - well. He’s spoken to her even less, but Jared’s known about his crush on her for about as long as he’s had it, so that part makes sense at least.
“I didn’t start it,” Evan begins, trying to form a defense against an accusation he’s not even sure is being made.
“He shoved you, like, yesterday,” Jared interrupts, raising his eyebrows, mouth slanted downwards disapprovingly. Evan gets the funny feeling he’s being babied. “You remember that, right? Dude’s a dick.”
Evan refrains from mentioning the fact that it was actually Jared’s fault he got shoved, because Jared had deliberately provoked him, and that the only reason Jared even knew Connor had pushed him in the first place was because Evan had told him afterwards. He’d scattered the second Connor had raised his voice. Evan wonders if Jared knows that he’s also kind of a dick.
“He apologised,” Evan says, deciding that accusing the only person who really tolerated his presence of being an asshole was probably a bad idea, even if it was true. “He seemed really nice.”
Jared stares blankly back at him, like Evan has said something so incomprehensible he needs time to fully process exactly what’s happening. Evan finds himself feeling weirdly defensive of Connor. Apologising was more than Jared had ever really bothered doing, even if Jared had also never physically hurt him the way Connor had. He’d still crossed lines.
“Do you want to be friends with him?” Jared asks.
“Kind of,” Evan says, and then, “yes.”
Jared makes an audible ‘huh’ sound, and Evan’s fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt and start fiddling with material, clumsily tugging at a loose thread. He knows Jared is judging him, but he also knows that Jared judges him for pretty much everything - he’s just kind of worried that maybe Jared won’t want to hang out with him now or something. Maybe Jared had a genuine reason to hate Connor all these years, and Evan’s just been a shitty friend, and never noticed, or asked. He doesn’t think so, thinks Jared would’ve taken any excuse to complain about Connor, even if it meant explaining whatever horrible thing Connor might have theoretically done to him.
“Your funeral,” Jared says at last. He doesn’t say it to Evan, really - says it to the wall behind him, and avoids his eyes. Evan knows Jared, has done for years, and he can tell that while Jared might be looking in his direction, he’s definitely not seeing him. Jared’s present but also not, distant enough for Evan to wonder if he hasn’t done something wrong. His anxiety normally makes him fully aware of his many and varied faux paus, but he can’t tell where he’s slipped up here. It’s worse, not knowing what he’s done wrong.
But Jared doesn’t really do feelings, and whatever the crease in his brow means Evan knows it’s not his place to ask, or to understand. He lets it go.
Evan’s not sure how you text someone like Connor. Evan’s not really sure how to text anyone other than his mom or Jared, but Connor seems a particularly intimidating person to contact. He tries not to think about it too much. Now that the reality of Connor’s offer is seeping in he’s starting to feel bad. Really bad. Not because Connor knows about his anxiety or anything - he’s actually pretty confident most people know there’s something wrong with him, even if they don’t label it, and he’s as okay with that as he’ll ever be. But this is different. Connor saw his therapy assignment, and when he thinks about it like that, remembers that there’s something really wrong with him, and all anyone can think to do to help him is make him write sad, faux-optimistic letters to himself. Well. It doesn’t feel great.
Connor’s messed up too. Evan knows that, but somehow it doesn’t make it any easier to reach out to him, now he’s home alone and has to actually say something to him. Connor seems like the kind of kid who has actual problems. Evan just has a stutter sometimes, and worries a lot. It feels pretty pathetic in comparison.
He gets his phone out anyway.
It’s not even sending the text in the first place that’s the concern - he doesn’t like writing emails or texts or whatever, but anything is better than face-to-face conversation. Sure, he runs the risk of obsessively over-editing whatever he’s typed out, but he can make actual corrections. He doesn’t just say whatever comes to mind in an attempt to fill the silence, like he does when he’s actually made to talk. Evan doesn’t respond well to that kind of pressure.
No, it’s the fact that it’s Connor he’s going to be messaging, and the fact that Connor knows, now, how messed up Evan is, or at least has an idea of it. He knows enough that it’s weird, and Evan doesn’t like it.
Very, very slowly, Evan enters Connor’s number into his contacts. It doesn’t mean anything, he thinks reassuringly to himself. It’s not a commitment. It doesn’t mean he has to say anything to him - he’s pretty sure Connor wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t bother, would just assume that Evan had realised he wasn’t worth his time, or something along those lines. The thought bothers him, though, because as much as Connor always gave off an air of indifference he’d seemed off, somehow, when he’d spoken to him at school. Vulnerable, maybe. It wasn’t a word he’d ever have thought to apply to him.
It’s enough of a push for Evan to type out a text, refusing to give himself time to think before sending it. He regretted it immediately, obviously, wished there was a way to go back in time and throw his phone out of the window, or flush it down the toilet, or just hide it somewhere until the impulse had passed.
Evan [6:05 PM]: hi, it’s evan? you gave me your number and it’s ok if you didn’t actually expect me to text you so don’t worry about texting back, and sorry if this is weird or something but i didn;t want you to think i didn’t want to talk or something, so. i’m texting you? this is weird right. sorry
Evan can barely stand to look at his phone. He stares at his desk for a minute, before he stands, mutely, and shoves his cell to the very back of his bedside cabinet drawer. He’ll pretend it never happened, and maybe Connor will be polite and won’t acknowledge the fact that Evan is perhaps the most pathetic person in the world.
Connor replies after a couple of minutes. Evan can tell because in his haste to bury the proof of his foolishness he forgot to put the phone on silent, so it dings, joyfully, slightly muted from its position tucked behind the collection of miscellaneous junk he’s managed to acquire over the years, but still very audible. He ignores it.
It dings again, and then again, a few seconds later.
He tries, briefly, to weigh up his options - the anxiety of waiting, of not-knowing, versus the very distinct possibility that Connor’s going to have realised what a loser (freak, he thinks, grimly,) he is. It doesn’t take long for him to decide that he’s probably better off with the devil he knows, in that whatever hurtful things Connor has to say to him can’t be any worse than the stuff he’ll invent if he refuses to give into his curiosity and at least look. A second wave of fear passes over him as his screen lights up in his hand, proudly declaring that he has ‘3 new messages’. He feels a little like he’s drowning in it.
Connor [6:07 PM]: hi
The first text says. Evan doesn’t let himself feel relieved.
Connor [6:07 PM]: i didnt think yd actually text
Connor [6:08 PM]: n dw its not weird dude u need to chill tf out
Evan stares at his phone a little longer, waiting for things to make sense again. Another text comes through, because that’s the kind of day he’s having.
Connor [6:08 PM]: r u ok? what do u want?
Connor’s still being nice. For all Evan had worried, the logical part of him had thought (known, really) he was probably not going to be pointlessly cruel to him, but still. There was no obligation to here - if he was trying to improve his image at school, or make it up to Evan, somehow, he’d already done enough. There was no reason to keep up the charade. Evan’s not sure how he feels about the situation, about the possibility that Connor might actually just want to talk to him.
Evan’s fingers shake a little as he taps out a response, his cast more inconvenient now than ever, bulky and uncomfortable. It feels like his arm’s a bit of a blunt instrument sometimes. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to feel halfway happy with his response, but he’s tired, and stressed, and the whole situation is so bizarre he’s not sure he can even bring himself to panic over it the way he would normally.
Evan [6:16 PM]: sorry, i’m ok, i just don,t really know how you’re meant to like. talk to people. like i know you don’t want to be friends and that’s ok, i wouldn’t want to be friends with me etiher, but i thought it might be kind of weird to just start like, venting at you or something? so i figured i woudl text you first in case that was like, how you did things. sorry. i think like. acknowledging it all might actually have been weirder. i’ve made this weird. u don’t have to keep talking to me. it’s ok. sorry
Evan is not good at texting.
Connor, he learns, is not great either.
Connor [6:18 PM]: u say sorry too much
Connor [6:18 PM]: i wouldnt have bothered offering if i didnt mean it
Connor [6:19 PM]: i dont exactly go out of my way to be nice to people
Connor [6:19 PM]: so stop apologising
Connor [6:19 PM]: u can chill out. im not gonna fucking freak out at u bc u text kinda weird or whatever. if u want to talk we can talk
Where Evan’s texts read like awkward, long-winded rants, Connor’s are almost snippets of consciousness. There’s a flow to it all. He sends nearly everything he thinks. So does Evan, but it’s just. Different. Not necessarily in a bad way, Evan thinks, the corners of his mouth curling up just a little as he sits down and begins to painstakingly type out a reply.
Evan learns a surprising amount about Connor. For someone who gives off such a ‘mysterious loner’ vibe Connor has no shortage of things to talk about, and is bizarrely, refreshingly comfortable with talking about pretty much anything. He’s not exactly an open book, and there are times when Evan thinks he might be very subtly shutting down a line of conversation, but for the most part talking to him is easy. It’s bizarre.
Connor makes it clear early on that he doesn’t like Jared. Evan mentions talking to his ‘friend’ earlier, because Evan’s life isn’t very exciting, and being mocked by Jared is probably the most interesting thing that’s happened to him today aside from all the Connor stuff, and Connor makes an offhand comment about how he can’t believe Evan’s willing to put up with his shit. Apparently while he doesn’t outright hate Jared, he does think that he’s kind of a ‘massive fucking asshole’. Evan doesn’t provide Jared with much of a defense. He thinks Connor might find it vaguely amusing.
He learns that Connor’s favourite colour is yellow, and that he draws, even though he thinks he’s kind of terrible at it. He learns that his favourite class is English, and that he gets weirdly passionate about books once he gets started talking about them. He offers to lend some of his favourites to Evan, sounding weirdly enthusiastic about it, like he’s not even worried about Evan creasing the spines or accidentally spilling water on the pages and ruining them or something. Evan’s not sure how to express how touched he is by the thought that Connor would want to share something like that with him. They barely know each other, but Connor doesn’t seem to care, just seems excited that someone is actually interested in what he has to say. Evan wonders when he was last treated like a person.
They spend a long time asking each other appropriately generic things, before the two of them realise they’re both just taking questions off the same ‘200 questions to get to know someone’ page. Neither of them is really sure what they’re doing.
Eventually, of course, the anxiety thing comes up. Evan knew it was coming. He’d tried to ignore it, how the conversation got more and more personal, pretend that Connor was talking to him because he wanted to be friends, and not out of some misguided sense of obligation, or pity for a kid he knew was kind of messed up.
Evan braces himself for some kind of rejection, some thoughtless comment that will reveal that all of this talking they’ve done has really just been posturing, and that Connor just wants to make sure Evan’s not planning on immediately offing himself. He’s half-convinced that once they’ve talked about the big, looming thing that is his mental health, and Connor’s vague concerns over Evan’s safety or state of mind, or whatever it is that’s kept him texting Evan for the past hour and a half, are assuaged, he’s going to leave, and it’ll just be Evan again. Evan, and sometimes Jared. But usually not.
He can logic it out in his head as much as he wants, tell himself that there’s no reason why Connor would have kept up that kind of charade for an hour straight if he was really just doing this to make himself feel better, that people don’t offer to lend random nearly-strangers treasured copies of their favourite novels just because they’re mentally ill, but it doesn’t change the queasy, rolling dread he feels in his stomach. He’s scared.
Connor spends a long time typing, after Evan mentions the fact that he’s had anxiety for a good few years now, and that’s probably why he doesn’t have friends, because no one wants to spend time around someone who can’t order food from themselves, has panic attacks over class presentations, stutters and stumbles over his words and can barely hold a conversation with a stranger without feeling the need to run and hide. Well. The anxiety and his personality, Evan thinks. That bit’s not great either, doesn’t exactly endear him to people. His general being. His inability to relate to people, the compulsive lying… Evan thinks there are probably a lot of reasons he’s never really had any friends, actually.
Connor [7:37 PM]: idk what ur expecting me to say really
It’s a better response than Evan had anticipated, but it still doesn’t seem good. He’s used to his anxiety ruining things for him, and it doesn’t seem like whatever he was building with Connor is going to be any different. He wants to curl up into a ball in bed and not think for a good few hours. Days, maybe.
Connor [7:37 PM]: like. obviously it fucking sucks but its not like any of it matters
Connor [7:38 PM]: or not like it doesnt matter, but like. whyd it matter to literally anyone but you
Connor [7:39 PM]: who cares if u dont talk sometimes or need a break from fucking. whatever. are u gonna ruin ur friends reputations bc u cant do a class presentation? its bullshit
Connor [7:39 PM]: literally who cares. its not like yr hurting anybody. it hasnt bothered me so far so
Connor [7:40 PM]: maybe youve just never had very good friends
Evan is… sort of getting used to being surprised by Connor. He’s not kind exactly, at least not in the traditional sense, but he’s not mean either. More than anything it feels like he just doesn’t have a filter - that everything he thinks, he says or does, no preparation required. Connor’s all action. When he says something nice, or reassuring, he says it fast enough that even Evan can’t convince himself it was planned. It feels genuine.
Evan can almost convince himself everyone’s got it wrong, that Connor’s not a bad person. That maybe he’s just lonely.
Connor [7:42 PM]: pluuuuuus like. im super fucked up too
Connor [7:42 PM]: not in the same way u are but just like. mentally
Connor [7:42 PM]: not that ur super fucked up. a little bit maybe. but just. u know. mental health.
Connor [7:43 PM]: its bullshit. is the thing. it fucking sucks
Evan wonders, briefly, what exactly is wrong with Connor. He knows he has anger problems - the whole school does, and Evan’s seen him called out of class enough now that he knows he has them badly, too - but he doesn’t know if there’s more to it. It wouldn’t surprise him. He almost seems too willing to talk about mental health stuff, like he’s done this all a thousand times before. Like it’s routine.
Maybe they’ll talk about it sometime.
Evan types out a response, and decides he’s not going to push it. He’s not sure he would’ve had the nerve to anyway.
Evan [7:44 PM]: it’s kind of bullshit.
Connor doesn’t say anything at all for a minute, and Evan wonders, again, if he might’ve crossed a line somehow. It’s less of a concern than it usually is, in the sense that Evan’s said a lot today he kind of thought would freak Connor out, or annoy him, or upset him. None of it has, or none of it has done enough that Connor’s commented on it. He can almost let himself relax. Not entirely, but almost.
Connor [7:46 PM]: youre alright, hansen
Evan grins at his phone, and then immediately stops grinning, because it’s kind of embarrassing to be that pleased about something that isn’t really a compliment - it’s just been a while since he’s felt like someone actually wanted his company. Jared puts up with him, but that’s about all. Anytime Evan starts to feel like maybe they’re actual friends, instead of just fake ones, Jared will happily remind him, like clockwork, that no, he doesn’t really want to be spending any of his time with Evan. That he’s only doing it because he absolutely has to.
Connor might not be his friend, but he’s being nice to him, and that’s more than Jared’s tried to do for a long time.