x and y {a Dear Evan Hansen one-shot collection}

heart of the storm {Evan x Zoe}

Preview: ❛It is a dark and stormy night.

Sort of.❜

(Fic request by Toomanyfandomss on Archive of Our Own: "Could you do a one shot where Zoe and Evan are stuck inside during a thunder storm, and even though you'd think Evan would be the one afraid and Zoe would actually enjoy it, it's the other way around and Evan has to just try and comfort zoe?")

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It is a dark and stormy night.

Sort of.

Dark clouds had rolled in as the afternoon progressed, threatening rain the entire evening. Finally, after hours of heavy humid air and hesitation, the clouds break and spill out rain in sheets illuminated by flashes of lightening.

Evan finds storms to be soothing; Nature's version of releasing tension, he prefers to think of them as. When storms end and everything is anew with brighter colours, it always serves as a visible reminder to him that every storm fades away and subtly, that comforts him.

He pays no attention to the sheets of water pouring against the window, as the sky thunders indignantly and persistently. Maybe if he were alone, there would be a small part of him on edge. Heidi is working the late shift, again, but her absence in the Hansen house tonight is temporarily filled by Zoe.

Doing homework together lacks as date potential, but it's become something of a habit and routine. Evan has started to forget what it's like to come home to an empty house, just how eerily silent it used to be with only himself for company.

At first, Evan suspected that Zoe merely pitied him going home by himself every day, but as the days ticked by, he began to see that she needs it as much as he does. Her figure has become a more permanent facet to the Hansen household, unannounced and entirely necessary.

Beside him at the kitchen table, Zoe fidgets. Fingers tracing the seams of her jeans, persistently reaching up to brush hair out of her face that has not fallen forward. With the strikes of lightening, her head lifts rapidly, eyes flickering towards the window.

Evan notices, of course he does. Biting the inside of his cheek, he questions if it would be speaking out of turn to ask her if the storm is heightening her nerves. Perhaps he's imagining it and she'll think he's ridiculous for even asking. He wants to speak, wants to ask but the words lodge into his throat, hesitating to be said aloud.

Above them, tree branches from the maple trees next to the house scrape against the roof, the spindly branches digging at the shingles. As if they are going to extend a gnarled arm into the house, Zoe's head snaps up so quickly that Evan wonders if she's going to have whiplash.

"Um, Zoe," he starts to say, still unsure.

She turns to him and now that he sees her wide eyes, he notices the anxiety prickling them. Evan, still hesitant pushes forward, picking his words carefully, "Are you...nervous about the storm?"

Zoe's stomach actively twists itself into a million knots. She parts her dry, chapped lips and manages a breathily laugh, trying to suppress the feeling in her stomach. At first prepared to deny his remark, she sucks in a slower breath and reminds herself that Evan, unlike most people in her life, does legitimately care. "Sometimes, they do...freak me out a little."

Last time she told anyone that was when she was at summer camp five years before; it has been storming heavily and Zoe was terrified. Alone at camp with a group of her peers who were strangers and overbearing counselors, Zoe had tried to tell one of the girls whom she believed she was befriending.

Apparently, she hadn't been, because the girl had laughed in her face and told everyone immediately thereafter. Only babies are afraid of storms, the girl had said and a wide variety of cruel comments that compared Zoe to a baby were passed around.