Wrong Number | Dear Evan Hansen | Treebros

Jughead Jones

Connor lounged around the house. Life was so boring. Everything was so boring. He just wanted Evan. But it was too far for any sane person to walk and he was pretty much on house arrest. Why? He may or may not have told his parents about going to see Evan and the money may or may not have been 'legitimately earned'. His parents thought it was drug money. It wasn't. His sister thought it was his parents money. It wasn't. In reality it had been saved money, he'd sold some stuff online and covered some shifts at the ice cream parlour 'Á La Mode' just out of his town. But no! 'He's such a loner, so he must be a stoner' infallible logic.

So he did what any one trapped in their house for an extended period does. Binged Supernatural. Mouthing along to the iconic lines, laughing with the characters. A great time. Life is so much simpler when all you have to worry about is if Destiel will ever become canon and which flesh eating serial killer will come after them next.

He then continued on to do what anyone who'd spent 9 hours watching supernatural does. He started up Shadow hunters on the Malec wedding episode.

This is the life.

He lazily texted Evan a couple times but there conversations where mostly short lived due to Connor getting lost in his show. Evan's mum was on a shift so they were well and truly stuck. Has the city hall never heard of 'Public Transport'? So here he sits cursing his government for not using taxes to fill holes with more cement and get a decent bus running.

"CONNOR? DINNER!" Zoe yelled cutting across a heated Clace moment. He hadn't even noticed her come home.
"COMING IN A SEC!" pausing the 'action' on screen and slowly crawling out of bed. And trailing down the stairs groggily.

No one made any acknowledgement as he slouched into his chair, half heartedly picking a fry off his plate. His mom had made casserole and fries, and effort to get rid of leftovers no doubt. It wasn't bad but Connor hardly touched it.

"So, Connor why are you not hanging out with your boyfriend?" Larry asked.
"Because I didn't have the car, why would it matter anyway? Relieved that you may not have to pay for conversion therapy?"
"Don't say that Connor!" Chided Cynthia "You know that's not what he meant!"
"Then what did he mean?" Connor pushed away from the table and stood up.
"Excuse me young man! I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour from you!" Larry said aggressively, standing up and raising his hand.
"Dad, don't hit Connor." Zoe interjected. Larry turned and pointed at her.
"Stay out of this! This is between me and my son!"
"shut up..." Connor mumbled,
"What was that son?"
"I said SHUT UP!"
"YOU'RE MY SON, YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE AND YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!" Cynthia tried to disappear into her chair, Zoe vanished into the kitchen.
"I WON'T BE YOUR SON MUCH LONGER AT THIS RATE!"
Silence.
"Get out."
"GLADLY!"

Connor stormed out of the house leaving the door to swing. He began to make his way to the park. Suddenly he felt like Jughead Jones, preferring homelessness over his own dad. He knew it was extreme and stupid, and that he was being rash. This was perfectly expressed when he punched the first tree in sight. His hand was left sore and bloody.

He found a bench. Sighed as he sat down. Set a timer on his phone so he would be on time for school. He didn't want Evan to worry. He swung his legs until dark. He finally went to sleep.