Freakish (Dear Evan Hansen)

Words Fail

/Author's Note: This book is coming to an end soon. This chapter includes mentions of suicide, self-harm, depression, anxiety, and all around bad vibes. I have never put trigger warnings in any of my previous chapters, so please read with caution. I don't want anyone getting triggered or sad or dissociative in this chapter. I care about you guys.\

Connor knew something was up when (Y/N) stopped responding to his calls.

Connor knew something was wrong when John and Alex said that (Y/N) had moved back in with their parents.

Connor knew something was very wrong when (Y/N) stopped coming to school.

But he didn't know the extent until he got a letter in the mail from the teen. Upon opening the envelope, he saw that there wasn't any letter, but instead, there was a bright blue flash drive and a note card that said: "I can't explain it in a letter, so I made it a video."

Connor took the flash drive and plugged it into his computer, a file titled "I'm sorry" came up and he clicked on it.

The screen became black before an image of (Y/N) popped up, looking horrible. Their eyes were bright red, tears streaming down their face. He could hear that their breathing was very irregular like they were having a panic attack.

"I never meant to make it such a mess," They said, words followed by more heavy breathing.  "I never thought that anything would go this far. I never wanted any of this to happen, it just did. I had no control over it. So I'm here, sorry, searching for reasons, something to say about this, this horrible decision I've made."

(Y/N) wiped their eyes before continuing. "I guess I thought I could part of something. We could be part of something. Together. But I should have known that a person like me couldn't have that. I couldn't have that kind of freedom."

"I never had a dad who was just there to care for me. I never had a real mom, because mom couldn't handle being a mom. I never had a friend who just had to be there for me. That's not a worth explanation for what I've decided to do. Nothing can make sense for what I've decided to do."

Connor was worried now. He was scared. He paused the video and closed his door, not wanting anyone to hear anything. The resumed the video with shaky hands.

(Y/N) was crying, their voice quivering and face contorted into something had never seen from them. Regret. That's what it was.

"Words fail, Connor. Words fail. That's all that I can say. Except for sometimes, you see everything you wanted, and sometimes you see everything you wish you had and it's right there! It's just right there, so close you can taste it! And it's right there, in front of you, and you want to believe that it's true, that it's real. So you make it true. And you think that everyone else wants it, and that need it... just a little bit... too."

(Y/N) wiped their face and placed their hands on the table. "This was all just a sad invention. None of this was meant to happen, I know. I guess I didn't want to let this go, I couldn't give up. This thing that we had Connor, I didn't want to let any of it go. I wanted to believe that it was fine, that it was healthy, because if I believed that it was, if I believed that I was fine, I didn't have to see it either."

Connor felt tears at the brim of his eyes. He started thinking ahead, thinking of the worse. Anything could be concluded from what (Y/N) was saying. Were they leaving? Are they saying that they're breaking up with him?There was another possibility that Connor thought of, but he didn't even want to think of that.

"No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts. Pretend I'm something better than this fucking mess that I am. What I show you, Connor, it's not me. What I show you, it's what I want to be me. I want to be better, so I put on this mask of confidence, this mask that shows no fear.  Because then I don't have to look at it, and no has to look at it. NO, no can really see the real me."

Their voice had turned weak, each breath taken in like it was (Y/N)'s last. "I learned to slam on the breaks, before I even turn the key, before I make any damn mistake, before I lead with the worst of me. I never let anyone see the worst of me, except for now. I was so scared.Because what if everyone saw?"

(Y/N) rolled up the sleeves on their shirt. Scars, new and old, faded and fresh. Marks of pain and suffering inflicted on themselves. 

"What if everyone knew what I did? What if you knew? Would you have still liked me, or would you hate me, too?" (Y/N) asked Connor, knowing that they wouldn't be getting a response. He was crying too. Now (Y/N) was talking in the past tense about themselves. Shit. "Would I have just run away from the truth for forever?"

(Y/N) rolled down their sleeve. "All I ever did is run. How could I have told you what was happening? You would have hated me. You'll probably hate me after this, you'll hate me for leaving like this."

(Y/N) had stopped crying for a moment. "I love you, Connor, I love you so much. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I don't think I can say this to you, that's John's job. He'll tell you everything. Hopefully. I don't know if he'll be able to do it either. But this is a final farewell. I'll see you eventually, wherever I'm going. Hopefully, it'll be good, and you'll be there with me."

The video ended and the screen turned black again, with a replay button of it. He was confused. 

He watched the video four times before reality began to sink in, cutting like a knife.He felt a tightness in his chest. This wasn't (Y/N) saying they were running away, leaving New York without him. This was (Y/N)'s note.

He shut down his computer and sat on his bed for a while. He needed to think. 

John called him around 8:30 that night. "John, what the hell is going on?" Connor asked over the phone. A few seconds of silence passed before he got a response.

"Connor, they're gone. Amanda called me, and..." John seemed to choke up over the call. " Amanda found her in the tub, water was spilling out of the bathroom door. I came over to their house and- the blood, oh my god, Connor, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Connor dropped his phone. He didn't end the call. He waited for John to hang up before he started to cry. In his head, he couldn't picture the teen who had made him feel better or their perfect smile and all of their amazing imperfections that made them so perfect to him.

Instead, he could only picture the broken teen he had never seen before. A side of (Y/N) who was scared, depressed, anxious. A part that wasn't faked. How he never saw through the fake smiles and laughs, he didn't know. How he thought everything was fine, that was a mystery.

Connor felt like shit. He really felt like shit. He didn't want (Y/N) to be gone, but they were, and he couldn't change that.