𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 - A Dear Evan Hansen Fanfiction

Chapter Five - Relapse

The last thing that anyone would ever want to wake up to would be a headache so gruesome that you don't even want to open your eyes because you know the moment you do, it will automatically become ten times worse due to the light. Any sane person would much rather wake up well-rested and ready for the day.

Unfortunately, hangovers provide neither of those healthy and happy options. And thanks to the wild night the day before, a thundering headache was exactly what Connor got when he opened his eyes. He attempted to sleep off the ache, rolling around in bed until he felt sick enough to decide to do something about it. So after spending a few minutes or so waking up his mind and getting his eyes used to the astronomically bright lighting, Connor sat up, processing where he was and how he got there.

After examining his motel room, he turned to his nightstand for his phone, which wasn't where it usually was on the charger. In place of it were a few things, a note, a water bottle, and his phone-- all the way across on the other side of the nightstand, making it so Connor would have to get up fully from the bed to grab it, evidently waking him up for the day in the process. "Of course.." He growled, picking up the water first, taking a few heavy sips.

Next came the note, to which read a note from Evan, signature on the bottom.

I had a nice time drinking with you, Connor. We should hang out more often, you're a nice guy.

Hope you're doing okay. Drink some water when you wake up.

Evan

At first glance this looked like an, 'I don't like hanging out with you, but I'm going to offer to hang out and then decline at the last minute' note, and that made Connor begin to recollect the memories from last night.

It was all mostly a blur now, but what he did remember was vividly seeing Evan's face filled with uncomfort as he dragged him on the dance floor as a drunken idiot, and the feeling of his body pressed up to his own. Normally, that move sent them both down the other path straight into a bedroom. But his face, watching him tremble made his heart sink. He had used Evan as a personal designated driver, a babysitter rather than a friend to have fun with.

He wasn't even sure if Evan enjoyed being around him, or if he even liked having him as a friend. But he needed Evan. He was the ray of sunshine that kept him going throughout the day. Sure, he texted like an 80 year old grandpa, but seeing him smile in public and listening to him speak made Connor's day better.

Which was strange, seeing before he moved to town, Connor hated people. His own family, people who recognize him, anyone. He just fled once anyone tried to talk to him. It wasn't an anxiety thing, it was just such a sense of uninterest, he didn't want to talk to anybody. He didn't care whose birthday it was, what you had for dinner on Wednesday. He had his own things to deal with.

Continuing to talk like this only made Connor's head hurt even more, and there was no way to stop it. The anxiety began to overwhelm him, and before he was even recollecting more of the better memories of the night before, Connor found himself sifting through his suitcase, sliding his hand through the deepest parts of pockets until he pulled out a small blade, stolen from a pencil sharpener awhile back.

He was sure to have quit this, he thought it was over, the pain and the addiction to relieve. Connor had enough to deal with when it came to cigarettes and the occasional need to drink until he passed out, he didn't need to get back into this.

And yet he was. He had already broken open the skin of his thighs several times, and the blood was beginning to spot the wounds. It wasn't planned, nothing was methodically placed on better pieces of thigh. The pain never came through his mind as he simply sliced and sliced until the blood started to drip down his thighs. It was such a weird feeling, remembering how this liquid felt, sliding down his legs that he had just wounded.