susurrus / dear evan hansen

lie number eight

tw: suicide

connor walked to the park, boots crunching stone under heel.

it was deadly silent, except for the susurrus of the trees. he cringed as he listened to their whispers.

it was dark. the streetlights were dim and the moon shon timidly from behind a thick barricade of trees.

he sat down on the slightly damp bench and exhaled.

god, this place was so fucking tragic.

it's what he deserved.

connor unscrewed the lid off the bottle of pills and opened the wine, cringing as he realised the brand was jared's favourite.

did he really want to do this?

no more trips to the field.

no more smoking weed in the attic.

no more drinking on the roof.

that would all be gone.

but so would all the pain. he wouldn't have to face anyone anymore. he would just be gone.

his hands started to shake and he cursed quietly. why was he so nervous about this? it was what he had been planning for weeks. and this was his chance. his chance to finally fucking die.

connor took out the note to evan. he regretted not leaving anything for jared or alana, but evan was such a fucking pussy that there was no way he was going to tell the truth when connor's parents found out he was dead. that way, his secret would be safe.

and down the pills went.

one for evan.

one for zoe.

one for jared.

for alana, for larry, for cynthia. for everyone he had hurt; for everyone he had disappointed.

here's to them.

and down the wine went.

it was silent. it was dark. it was where he would take his last breath.

connor's vision began to dim. he wasn't scared anymore. he was ready for the wind and the sky to take him; for his spirit to live with the trees.

goodbye evan.

goodbye zoe.

goodbye jared.

goodbye alana, goodbye larry, goodbye cynthia. goodbye everyone he had hurt; goodbye everyone he had disappointed.

god, who was he kidding?

no one would miss him.