It Will Be Alright -- Treebros

Two -- Senior Year

~Evan Hansen's POV~

I grabbed my bag, rushing down the stairs as I opened the door, shouting a quick goodbye to my mom before I left for school. The first day of senior year. Just like every year, my expectations are to stay away from everyone, but the tricky part will be staying in the classroom and switching classes. I took a sharp inhale, shaking my head. I've dealt with this for nearly five years now, I can go for a few more years.

I have suggested doing cyber school, but my mother suggests otherwise. According to her, I need to get used to the feeling of having the emotions of others.  Personally, I think that's bullshit- I mean, completely understand that, which is why I'm here now.

I approached the school building, parking and getting out of my car.  I opened the front door and entered the large building.  I took a deep breath, keeping my head down as I pushed past the crowd of people.

Devastated, determined, agitated, adoration, cocky, gay, furious, cheerful, hostile, gloomy, excited, eager, comfortable, affectionate, relief, insecure, positive, alert, amused...

With a sigh, I turned around to be greeted by my fr- my family friend, Jared Kleinman. "Hey, Ev. I was wondering if you had studied over the summer? I was busy with... other stuff," he greeted. I opened my locker, stuffing my backpack in and turning back around to face him. "Um... yeah, I did some extra studying. I didn't have anything else to do." I replied, noticing that I was beginning to sweat excessively and quake with anxiety.

I brushed it off; it was most likely someone else's feelings. "Oh great, if I need help, could you help me?" he continued.  I nodded, "Sure," I watched as an evil smirk spread across Jared's face.  He walked past me, talking to someone behind me. Well, shit.

Aggressive, bittter, annoyed, disgusted, emptiness, hostile, loathsome, irritated

"Hey, Murphy! Love the new hair length, very troubled teen chic," Jared chuckled. I turned around, seeing that Jared was talking to Connor Murphy. Oh no.

Offended, infuriated

Connor just continued to stare blankly at Jared, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes were red and bloodshot. Wait... he's high, isn't he?

"It was a joke. You were supposed to laugh," Jared continued, unamused by Connor's lack of reaction. Connor replied with a blunt, "Yeah, no, I'm laughing. Am I not laughing hard enough for you?!"

Humiliated, overwhelmed, disheartened, enraged

Jared just rolled his eyes, "You're such a freak," Jared walked away as I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to say.  I could feel that Connor was clearly furious and he didn't want anyone else bothering him.  I flashed an awkward smile, about to leave, yet I was immediately interrupted.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Wha-"

"Stop fucking laughing,"

"Bu-"

"You think I'm a freak?"

"No, I-"

"You're the fucking freak."

Before I could react, I was shoved to the ground.  Connor angrily stomped away as I felt his emotions fade.  I was now aware of my own feelings, as I was alone.  I felt my anxiety, my confusion, and overall, my shock.

I continued to walk to class, several emotions hitting me at once as I entered the room.

Sad, guilty, disgusted, bored, happy, angry, stressed, nervous, fearful, confused, anxious, serious, concentrated, distracted

God, I hate feeling everyone's emotions.

I sat down awkwardly, trying to ignore the feelings.  I felt an overwhelming wave of sadness fill my senses, drowning out the others.  I felt tears well in my eyes from the feeling as I quickly stood up, rushing to the bathroom.

I wiped my eyes, splashing water in my face. Not long after I had that feeling, Connor Murphy ran into the bathroom, sprinting into the furthest stall and slamming the door.

That same feeling of sadness from before washed over me once again, ten times stronger than previously.  I needed to do something about this.  I constantly wiped my eyes, unable to stop the crying. "Goddamnit," I whispered to myself, looking at myself in the mirror.  I'm I looked pitiful.

I heard a stall door from behind me creak open, revealing Connor making eye contact with me in the mirror. "Are you okay, dude?" he inquired, noticing the dried tears that stained my face. "Yeah, no, I-I don't know why I'm crying???" I replied, obviously unable to control the emotions I was feeling. Connor's entire persona was depressing.

I felt an unfamiliar feeling every time he was near me. It wasn't just this feeling of sadness, it was way worse. Like, a... loathing. A hate for... someone, or something? It felt depressing. It was probably the worst feeling I've ever felt. I turned around to face Connor.

Connor's face was red as if he were crying, yet he looked confused. "Are you alright?" I questioned. Connor's eyes widened. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Yes, I'm fine," he answered, turning on the faucet and rolling up his sleeves as he washed his face.

((TW: Self-harm. If this makes you uncomfortable, look for letters in bold that tell you the trigger warning is over))

I was about to leave before I caught a glimpse of red out the side of my eye.  I turned my head to look at Connor's arm.  Wide, deep cuts were littered across his wrists, surrounded by old scars.  I gasped slightly at the sight, catching Connor's attention.  He rolled down his sleeves, giving me a questioning look.

((TW over))

"Huh?" he hummed.  "Nothing! I-I..." I took a deep breath. "Connor, if you ever need to talk, I'm here," I continued before leaving.  I felt an emotion that told me Connor's realization that I saw his cuts.  I took another breath, continuing on my way.

*Time skip brought to you by a lazy author*

The bell rang, signaling that all students were dismissed for the day.  I walked to my locker, taking out my bag and stuffing the paperwork and extra study guides I had gotten from several classes during the day.

I zipped up my bag, swinging it over my shoulder as I made my way to the computer lab. I spotted Connor writing something by the printer before he acknowledged my presence. I saw him stuff a note in his pocket, us making eye contact before he rushed out of the room.