stars in our eyes | evan hansen x reader

8.

The next morning Evan let you borrow one of his mom's jackets, which was helpful, considering you didn't have any clothes and wow you really needed to figure out your living situation thing.

You got through another day of high school. It was your first time in your bfirst period class--since you were touring with Alana during it yesterday--and who should be there but the Edgy Ghost himself? Connor Murphy sat a few desks over from you, too far to talk to casually, but it wasn't like you really knew what to say anyway, so you didn't say anything to him at all.

After the final bell, you were anxiously pacing outside of the front office trying to work up the nerve to go in when you caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

"Alana?" you called out. "Alana!"

She was going towards the exit of the school, but stopped and turned to you with a giant smile when she heard you calling out to her.

"Hi, (Y/N)! How have you been settling in?" she asked.

"Great," you said, flustered and nervous. "I'm sorry, this is really embarrassing, but... You're an office aide, aren't you?"

"Yep! Why?"

"Well, you see--I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing--but I kind of forgot how to get to my house. We just moved here and everything and, well, Google Maps is a lifesaver, but not when you forgot your address... I was just wondering, is it possible... would you mind... looking in my file and finding it for me?"

Your face was heated and your pulse was ridiculously fast. Practically the number one rule of anxiety was "Don't put yourself in embarrassing situations." Still, if this worked out...

"Yeah, no problem!" Alana said, disappearing into the office.

You tried to calm your breathing and tell yourself it would be okay. It was a really weird request, and probably not exactly legal to give students access to other students files, so Alana probably couldn't just ask for yours, but you told yourself to shut up, everything was going fine, just calm down.

After a few minutes, Alana came back. "Okay, I couldn't just take it, but I took a picture."

She showed you her phone screen. You looked at it and tried to start memorizing, but then asked, "How about you just send it to me?"

She faltered slightly, "Oh, okay, um..."

You said your phone number before she could ask for it, and also before you could think that it might not actually be your phone number anymore. But before you could freak out about it too much, the picture popped up on your phone.

"Thanks, Alana," you smiled, but before turning to go, you said, "Hey, and remember to add my number to your contacts."

"Oh, okay," Alana said. As she did, a hint of a smile formed on her lips.

You followed Google Maps' instructions to get to your "house". Part of you wondered if it even existed, or if the app was just taking you to a flat expanse of grass. Still, the worries were dismissed when you arrived at the address ten minutes later and reluctantly pulled into the driveway.

It was a quiet street, lined with huge trees and small hundred-year-old houses. You stepped out of your car and nervously up the steps to the porch before knocking on the door.

You waited, then knocked again. Nothing.

With a deep breath, you pulled out your keys and fit the little silver one into the lock. It turned with ease, and you stepped inside.

The front door opened into the living room. It was weird. Nothing about it seemed familiar or lived-in. It had obligatory living room furniture, but it was all so impersonal. Like a hotel room. There was no shoes or bags or papers tossed around, no family pictures adorning the walls, no boxes to show evidence of your recent "move". You stepped further into the house.

To the right of the living room, there was an open-plan kitchen. You walked into it and pulled open the fridge, revealing it to be fully stocked. On the other side of the living room, there was a hallway with two doors. You pushed open the left one. Another impersonal hotel-type room, this one with a bed and a connected bathroom. You exited and opened the door to the room on the left.

Another bedroom. You realized this one was meant to be yours. It didn't look like it was custom-made for you or anything, but it definitely had more of a teenage girl vibe to it than the rest of the house. Lavender comforter on the twin bed, a small bookshelf of hardcover young adult novels, a desk with a laptop sitting on it. You opened the closet. It was stocked with clothes you'd never seen before, but were clearly tailored to you, being your size and style.

You relaxed just a little. It was kind of creepy, but cozy, and it was definitely better than sleeping in your car at the orchard like you had been considering. You tossed your bags down, changed into fresh clothes, and grabbed a snack from the kitchen.

Now that you didn't have to stress about what you would eat or where you would sleep, you could finally let the past two days sink in.

You turned them over in your mind.

WHAT THE FUCK.

You tried to process. You'd talked to Evan Hansen and Alana Beck. Hell, you slept at Evan's house. Was this all some big plan or joke or reality show? 'You know what would be quality television? If we employed the actors of this Broadway musical to pretend to be their characters to fool this random sixteen-year-old girl with an anxiety disorder! Classic!' 

Other theories buzzed through your head, but then you wondered... did it really matter? You've always wondered why the Dorothys and Alices of literature wanted to get home so badly. You just got to a magical land and all you want to do is try to go home?

Reality is boring and monotonous. Why try to get back?

You made your decision. If someday you randomly woke back up in reality, so be it. If eventually you wanted to go home, then you could start looking for an escape, for answers. For now, why not enjoy it?

But, deep down, you knew how this story went. You loved these characters, these people, and you don't want to see them do the terrible things or make the horrible mistakes that they did throughout the course of the plot. You made your decision.

You were going to change Dear Evan Hansen.