susurrus / dear evan hansen

prologue

it's end of may or early june. the time of year when winter is finally leaving with a grunt and summer is peeking through, and puddles of lukewarm sun are spilling through windows and doors.

we want to get away. get out. the small town we live in can be suffocating. so we decide to drive away. drive out of that town.

he doesn't tell me where we're going. he just shuffles the playlist we spent an hour and a half lying on my bed creating and shoot off, away from my drive and out of that town.

wind screams softly in my ears in a cacophonous susurrus as he speeds down winding country roads. i yell at him to slow down, but he just laughs and hums along to the song.

and then we stop.

it's hard to breathe and my throat is sore from gulping down so much fresh air. my hair is a mess and so is his and our eyes meet and we laugh, ecstatic. everything seems so insignificant out here, wherever we are.

he takes my hand and nudges me to look up.

it's an ice cream shop, in the middle of virtually nowhere.

he tells me stories of how he and his family used to come here a lot when he was younger. before he changed for the worse. and i listen, the rare softness of his voice lulling me to sleep.

we step inside the almost-shed and he greets the woman. she smiles and says hello to me, asking if i'm his boyfriend.

i giggle and shake my head. i want to tell her who he really likes, because when i mention the name, his cheeks turn pink and there's a wonderful tone to his voice, and i find it incredibly amusing, but he doesn't. he says he doesn't like his cheeks being that hot.

we order our ice cream and he pays despite my constant refusal. i say goodbye to the woman and we sit in the car for the while, quietly singing along to the song that was playing, punctuated by the occasional curse from him to the wind 'getting his hair in his ice cream' and he eventually ties it up.

i always tell him i'm too bisexual for him to do that, but he ignores me. i tell him again now, and he just sticks his tongue out and tells me to suck it up.

once he's finished his ice cream (and i haven't) we speed off once again. the wind dries out my mouth and it feels like sandpaper, but i couldn't possibly care less. alone with him, i couldn't care about anything.

and then we grind to a halt, out of breath and dizzy.

i almost fall out of the car.

through grand, rusting black gates, a shamrock coloured field stretches on forever, framed with dozens of trees i could identify with the drop of a hat.

he glances at me and i have to resist the urge to kiss him there and then. he runs towards the gate and i follow him. we scale it rather precariously, as it wobbles slightly. we land with a thump of the dew-drop jewelled grass.

he scrambles back up again and then i do too and he takes my hand and we sprint. his legs are longer than mine and i stumble to keep up with him, but with the wind in my face and sun peeking through the clouds, i couldn't possibly care less. alone with him, i couldn't care about anything.

and then he trips and we tumble back onto the grass, chests heaving. and we lie there. we make small talk. he talks about him, i listen with a grin. being here, with him, is the most content i have been for years.

he points at a cloud that's lazily drifting by. he says it looks like duck. i say it looks like a dragon. the sun's becoming brighter. it rests upon our faces, sending warmth shuddering through my body.

after what seems like hours, but couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, we take off again, this time walking slowly, weaving in and out of the trees. he asks me what will happen to us when we graduate. i pause. then i turn to him and say we should bike the appalachian trail. he gets this beautiful glint his eye and says we could write a book, and then he gasps and he grins so widely i grin too and his voice is high with excitement as he suggests we could learn to sail.

i've never liked the sea. it's too big and what's right at the bottom terrifies me. but i nod along, too, and clasp his hands and say i can't wait.

our conversations drifts to this and that, to boys and girls. we find a daisy-embroidered hillside to rest on and sit next to each other in a content silence before he looks at me, a smile curving his lips.

this is the happiest i've ever seen him.

he puts his hand on top of mine and tells me softly that there's no place he'd rather be.

i say me too.

and he turns his head the other way, but no before i catch something in his eye.

something sad.