Short Stories

Neurosis/Psychosis

THIS IS SORT OF A ONESHOT FOR DEAR EVAN HANSEN. IT'S THE SHIP "TREEBROS" BECAUSE I'M UNORIGINAL AND I LOVE THESE BOYS. 
ALSO, THIS ONESHOT IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AU THAN THE ACTUAL MUSICAL AND MY FANFICTION. SORRY FOR THE AUTHOR'S NOTE! :)

"Hey," I walked up to the little boy playing in the sandbox, "can I play?"
He looked up at me with a skeptical glint in his vibrant brown eyes, "Why?"
"Because you're by yourself and I wanna be your friend," I smiled. He pursed his lips and patted the sand next to him.
"I'm Evan," I said.
"Connor," the boy said. He looked like the happiest kid in the whole world and his smile lit my face up.
"What'cha doing?" I asked.
"Playing sandcastles."
"And forts?"
He smiled at me, "And forts!" 
"Yeah!" we laughed and built sandcastle forts for a good while before my father found his way to the sandbox.
"Hey, Evan," he smiled down at me, "You make a friend?"
"This is Connor," I introduced my new friend to my dad with utmost pride. Dad laughed and shook Connor's little hand, "It's nice to meet you, Connor. I'm Evan's dad. Hey, sorry, but I have to get this little guy home. See you some other time, yeah?" 
"Yeah," Connor laughed and waved to me as we walked off, my hand clasping onto my father's as if I'd lose him. 

I was 4. He was 5.

I walked into the kindergarten classroom, doing my best to hold all of my emotions up inside of me. I sat down at the round table and buried my head in my arms. I started silently crying but I knew my shoulders were shaking. 
"Roar!" I heard Connor bounce onto my back and stand up straight, laughing. He stopped laughing when I didn't respond. 
"Hey, buddy," he asked, "what's wrong?"
"My dad..." was all I could choke out.
"Did something happen? Is he okay?"
"He's okay," I sat up, not bothering to contain my sobs now, "he left. Mommy said he's never going t-to come ba-back because he ha-hates us. My d-daddy hates m-me. My daddy-"
"No," Connor hugged me, "don't be sad. Nobody could hate you, Evan."
"Every-everyone hates me! I c-can't-"
"Evan!" he said sympathetically. He was crying too, "I don't hate you, Evan!"
"But everyone else d-does. Everybody-everyone's gonna l-leave me. Daddy's gone, mommy's go-gonna leave, you're gonna leave-"
"I'm never gonna leave you!" Connor shrieked, "Never, ever, never!" He wrapped his tiny arms around me and we cried in homeroom that day. I remember feeling like I amounted to nothing. I was in kindergarten. I shouldn't have felt like I did and Connor helped me get through it. He always helped me get through everything, and I helped him.

I was 5. He was 6.

"Hey," Connor ran up to me excitedly, "so we do have the same first period!" We laughed and high-fived each other as 6th graders do and sat right next to each other. 
"This year, we h-have all b-but one of our cl-classes together," I explained, "well, that period is gonna s-suck, but the rest of the d-day should be f-fine."
"Yeah," he agreed, "did the doctor guy ever find anything about why you do the stuttering thing?"
"Yeah, h-he said that it has to do w-with my dad leaving me w-when I was little. What-whatever, though."
"Yeah, whatever. Your dad was a jerk anyway," He stuck his tongue out in disgust and we cracked up laughing.  
"It's c-called, uh, an-angst... angst eye itty. I think. I don't r-remember..."
Connor laughed and clapped his hands together, "How weird. Is it a disease?"
"I d-don't actually know, b-but he said," I cleared my throat and took on an impression of the doctor, "symptoms m-might include st-stuttering, increase in n-nervousness, awkward in s-social sit-situations, and uh, other things."
Connor collapsed onto the floor he was laughing so hard and the teacher told us to stay after class. I got really upset and Connor was okay with it, but it ate at me the entire class period. The bell rang and the teacher sauntered up to the front of the room with her arms folded. 
"I have about 5 minutes here that I don't have to let children into the room. The door's locked, the three of us are the only ones in here. Explain to me why I found Connor on the floor and both of you laughing your heads off."
"Well, you see," Connor started, "Evan told me a joke and it was funny. I laughed a lot and fell to the floor and Evan laughed that I was on the floor."
"Evan?" she turned her glare to me and I my insides went all... mushy and gross.
"I, uh- uh, we ju-just, I s-said a j-joke, I s-said-" I cut myself off with broken sobs and then broke all the way down. The teacher's expression went from anger to concern in about 5 seconds. Connor's went from levity to concern in .2 seconds. He jumped out of his seat and immediately began to comfort me. 
"Hey, it's okay, I just wanted to get an answer out of you," she began to look uncomfortable, "Evan, please stop crying."
"I c-can't," I yelled, unable to get the words out any other way.
"He has angst eye itty," Connor tried to explain.
"Anxiety?" the teacher asked. I nodded through the waterfalls pouring out my eyes and the teacher pushed a flat hand to her mouth.
"I'm gonna take him to the nurse," Connor said as the late bell rang. He escorted me down the hallway past all of the kids staring at me. "Ignore them," he said.
I nodded and tried to hold myself together for as long as possible.  When we got into the nurse's office Connor tried to explain my situation. The nurse called my mother and she came to pick me up. We took Connor home so I wouldn't be just with my mom. That was my first anxiety attack. And he was there for me. Like I couldn't be for him.