Soft ||Cevan♢Treebros||

Chapter 4

"Sell your stocks before the rapture."

-

Wednesday 10th October 2016 12:32

The unforgiving cold had invaded the university, students shivering in the halls, the sound of teeth and tongues chattering on in the classrooms mingling with the general scuffs and patter of feet.

The air was romantic, thickening up with manufactured heat. The school was colourless.

"What is the first think you think about every morning?"

Soft mutters fluttered through the air like pappus spread by a gentle wind.

"If success was not your go-to answer," Louise, the theatre co-ordinator, spoke, "you have little to no chance of making it in this industry."

A few rolled eyes and bitten tongues never seemed to phase this woman.

"Twenty-seven students in my class this year. Six of you have come from the Theatre Kids of America, three have past experience off-broadway, twelve have starred in local productions, and the rest of you..." the petulant woman sighed briefly before bringing her hands together and continuing. "Theatre is about feeling, breathing... existing. Live your truth if you love your truth and if you don't, well-"

As the woman droned on, confusing her audience of students, Evan zoned out, typing rather silently a few rows behind the aspiring actors with the rest of the musicians that still bothered to attend these lectures.

12am, Lecture, 45 min
1pm, Lunch with Jared, 25 min
1.30pm, Practice with Dancers, 2hr
3.45pm, Return Library Books
4pm, Work, 5hr
9pm, Commute Home, 2hr

His head was spinning, he was trying his best to work on his assignment for arts section of his course, but the looming tower of life's expectations was making him nauseous. Suddenly he was being prodded out of his seat by a neighbouring student, Drew.

"Hey, you okay bro? You seem a little fried."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine, long night last night, y-you know how it is!" Evan laughed nervously.

"Respect that man, gotta keep on that daily grind you know? Keep on keeping on, brother!" And like that, he was gone.

After closing his laptop and gathering himself as well as his belongings, Evan rushed out of the room and straight into a dark haired figure, immediately looking down, kneeling low, and frantically gathering his things, apologising profusely.

A steady, strong hand landed gently but firmly on Evan's arm, his own hands trembling terribly.

A smooth voice coaxed him out of his woes, "Hey, hey, no worries. Let me get that."

When he finally looked up, Evan's gentle blues were met with honey brown eyes and a charismatic, reassuring smile. It took him a moment to realise, but the moment the man in front of him opened his mouth to speak once more, Evan's eyes widened and he had to stop himself from jumping back twenty feet.

"You're Adam Kaplan." He said, dumbfounded and increasingly embarrassed.

Adam chuckled lightly, answering, "Yeah uh, wow, yeah,  I guess I am- I hope you don't mind my asking but aren't you the guy who did that ragtime arrangement for Levi and Crystal last month? Eoin, is it?"

"Y-Evan- Hi-Hansen, Hi Evan Hans- Hi, yes, Hi, Evan Hansen is my name, it's... Evan. I work with Levi sometimes, yes."

Flustered and mortified, Evan turned a bright shade of pink, the rest of his body running cold. He was stuck to the floor.