stars in our eyes | evan hansen x reader

17.

No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. You had been there. You had created a support system with yourself and four other people. You knew love didn't cure mental illness. You knew that. People didn't fall in love and then wake up magically cured. But you thought he was doing better.

It had been three weeks since prom. Three weeks of papers and finals. Three weeks of sitting at a lunch table with your five best friends. Junior year had ended just before Memorial Day, and you had all celebrated. In truth, you hadn't even been thinking about the near future.

End of May or early June. Evan had taken his mom's suggestion and gotten a job at Ellison State Park. You hadn't thought twice about it.

But today they called you saying he had fallen out of a tree.

You rushed to the hospital. You were led to his room. Evan was sitting there, scraped and bruised, a cast on his left arm.

"Hey, Evan," you said gently.

"Hey," he replied with a weak smile.

"Are..." you took in his injuries again, "you okay?"

"Yeah. Better now," he assured. He must have noticed your apprehensiveness, because he added, "Just a broken bone."

"Evan..." you began, but you didn't really know what to say, or how to say it.

His smile faded slightly, "Let's... talk about something else."

You sat down at the end of the hospital bed and sniffled, "Okay." Your mind was still whirring; you waited for him to choose a new subject.

"Oh! So we never talked about it--I don't know, I guess we were just distracted by finals or whatever--but I read your poems. They were amazing," he said supportively. "I don't know, I guess this just reminded me of them again. You know, 'I climb higher and higher. I climb 'til the entire sun shines on my face.'"

"And I suddenly feel the branch give way," you sang softly to yourself. "I'm on the ground. My arm goes numb. I look around--" You stopped yourself.

"Kinda scary how on the nose that was," he motioned to his cast with a smile.

"Yeah," you said weakly.

Seemingly noticing your withdrawal, Evan prompted, "Hey, I didn't know there was music to them. I guess I wondered a little bit; they read more like songs than poems, with the repeating parts and stuff being kind of like a chorus. Do you have music for all of them?"

You started to nod, but looked up at him and caught his eye, ultimately breaking a little inside. "How'd you break your arm?" you asked timidly. "How'd you break your arm, Evan?"

"I fell."

"Really? Is that what happened?"

"Yes!" he said defensively. "I was-- I lost my grip and then just-- I fell, so."

Then you said it--asked it, more like, but really it was more of a statement than a question. Exactly scripted. "Did you fall, or did you let go?"

You saw the look on his face and knew you were right.

"Evan--" you reached out, but he pulled away from you. You exhaled, then swallowed, "I didn't know."

"I know."

"I thought you were doing okay. I thought, I don't know, with Connor and Alana and Zoe and Jared... I-- I didn't know you felt so alone. I thought we were... you know, support, kindness, friendship, whatever... I--"

"I know," he said. "You were. You all were. I was so much happier, so much better. But it still..."

Your heart shattered a little as he was unable to find the words to finish the sentence. You finished it for him, "That's the thing about anxiety and depression. It taints what we love until we are left with nothing."