susurrus / dear evan hansen

lie number four

tw: suicidal thoughts

alana dropped her blunt when zoe texted her.

her hands started to shake and she had a damn anxiety attack on the spot: in her attic, legs swinging out the window.

she almost jumped there and then.

connor was gone.

they could no longer eat tasteless pizza in the wal-mart parking lot; no longer flip through their textbooks and tell each other that's you to the ugliest drawing; no longer smoke weed together in her attic.

all that was gone.

she knew he was struggling, but she couldn't help him. she felt sick every time he tried talking about it. so they both suffered together, wanting to reach out, but couldn't.

god, maybe if she had stopped being such a wimp, this never would've happened. she could've stopped all of this.

it was her fault.

she killed her best friend because she couldn't stomach what he was going through.

alana closed her eyes, imagining connor's smile. he rarely smiled, but when he did, it was luminous. she used to sketch his face a lot, and the smile lines were her favourite to draw.

she exhaled slowly, the weed calming her nerves.

her hands were still shaking.

zoe 💗: babe you ok? xx

yeah! we were just acquaintances anyway lmao 💓