Dear Evan Hansen x reader one shots

"Your lips and mine" (Connor murphy x reader)

(Hey, shitty upload schedule here. So I've been feeling pretty down lately and school has also kinda been in the way. PLUS it's been more than a month and that's not okay.)

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: self esteem issues, mention of past self harm.

Please don't take these things lightly and if you need someone to just rant to, I'm honestly here for any of you.

*~Word Count: 1261~*

Reader's POV

"I've always been the type of person that's wet angry, I know that sounds really fucking weird so let me break it down for you, Connor. I cry when I'm angry." "Oh"

I exhale and turn my head to my left, looking away from the boy with long, wavy/curly, semi unkept, milk chocolate locks. I wanted to avoid as much eye contact with him as I could. I knew that even a weird look from the faded boy would engulf me into a sea of hot and salty tears, surely those very same tears would drown me. "Yeah, I haven't ever been like this, it was only up until last year that the amount of times that I held in any emotional outbursts finally caught up to me." Connor exhaled a puff of smoke that resembled smog, smog of which surrounded whole cities, smog that the inhabitants would only ever become aware if they left their city. Through different draws of smoke he spoke each word to me, "Y/n, I just really want to ask you one thing, why do you keep talking to me about these things? I'm not exactly Little Ms. Sunshine, you know"

It was my turn to speak now, the words that I thought about no longer seemed to flow effortlessly anymore though. "I guess- I guess  it's because you're the only person that's willing to listen because you're either faded or about to be". He hums and then chuckles softly, cynically. "Hm, I thought you were gonna pull a 'you're my only friend' card on me, but then again, who cares?" I chuckle softly as well, "Apparently you, if you didn't then you wouldn't have stuck around for these past few years" "Very true, Y/n, but I could also just like coming because this is the only places that doesn't get checked during the security sweeps" "True but I appreciate the company either way."

Ash-Brown hair is tucked behind a pale, milky ear, he looks down and allows his eyes to wander to my hands and wrists. Small scratches litter my arms, he peers at them curiously.

(Connor's POV)

'Should I make this a big deal? They're not even dating me so why should I? We are just friends according to them'. I sigh out my last puff of smoke, they didn't mind me smoking, they just mind the fact that I do it so routinely. A constant haze to numb myself from the constant suicidal thoughts that plagued my mind, because if I didn't then who else?

Y/n was the kind of person that could lighten your mood but not realize they did, they did this for me on a regular basis actually. Look man, I don't want to sound sappy but I think me falling in love with them isn't a coincidence BUT at the same time I don't believe in that "fate" bullshit either, so I guess you could say that Y/n has really put me on the fence in regards to this.

I guess I could say that they're perfect in an imperfect sort of way. Their flaws are beautiful to me, everything that they could ever hate about themselves makes me become more drawn to them.

(3rd person POV)

Connor peered at Y/n's wrists again, he wonders to himself why they would hurt themselves. They were flawed, yes, but Connor saw through these things. He didn't see that sad shell of a person that hid behind huge sweaters, ripped jeans, and worn out chucks (lmao sorry if you don't dress like this, that's just me). He didn't see that shell, Connor saw the Y/n that Y/n saw and that was enough.

'I really need to stop thinking that Y/n is a potential love interest, like dude, no. stop right there, why would she like you? You're a toothpick, you're a stoner, you're a disappointment to yourself and your shitty parents, like why are you even alive? You're probably the broken condom baby but Cynthia and Larry wouldn't tell you that. Fuck wait...Y/n has been talking to me this whole time and I haven't heard a fucking thing she's said, fuck but if I tune in now it'll seem like I wasn't even paying attention in the first place, STOP IT, STOP IT!!!!'

Connor had now snapped out of his daze but now the boy of 17 had to shift the conversation into an entirely new topic; was he capable of successfully executing this plan? The answer remains unknown. "So wait, do you like apples?" At the mention of the question the e/c person perked up, they quirked their brow at the question wondering how the subject of whether or not they liked apples came about while discussing poetry. "What does that have to do with poetry, dude?"

Connor went into a state of panic and tried to think of something to say, "well, um, apples can represent self image or just about anything that can be sweet"

"That's oddly descriptive for you"

"Yeah I guess it is"

(Timeskip to a week later brought to you by me not writing jackshit since July?)

(Reader's POV)

Boiling, wet frustration ran down my cheeks after the deafening way I raised my voice at that, that fucking Murphy boy.
'Connor can go choke on his own dick  for all o care'
Yeah, I'm mad, I have a right to be after what that doped up asshat said. He had the actual nerve to even mock me afterwards too, "What?! Are you gonna be "wet angry" now? Get lost and fall off the literal goddamn fucking planet, you absolute, waste of space"

The mere thought of the incident made my blood boil and eyes flood once again with tears as salty as the ocean. I didn't mean to wrong him, I didn't mean to hurt him, I just had absolutely no idea how to react to any sort of confession that even suggested that he could have infinitesimal feelings for me.

Going back to him, going back to the place where we grew close, it makes Connor have this way of making me vulnerable to him, unknowingly. That place makes me feel like nothing else matters because he's there, he's right by my side, supporting every past misconstrued speech and giving it a new meaning.

I think to myself, I think again, I break into a sprint and rush back to that place once more, silently hoping that the boy of 17 with long, unkept, ash-brown hair remains there.

He's there. He's alone, eyes were of a light red hue, whether they were from tears or from the herb that he loved smoking so routinely was beyond me. Connor looks up at me then looks away. I love him, I know that the mood shift from wanting him to choke on his own tongue to wanting him holding me is immensely confusing but that's how I feel.

"Connor"
"Y/n"
"I'm sorry and I love you a lot"
"Toothpick loves you a lot too"

I go to him, we embrace. "Hey, Y/n?" "Yeah?" "Remember last week when I asked if you like apples and you asked how that related to poetry?" "Yeah?"
"Well I think that apples relate to poetry by providing me with great imagery. For example, apples can be sweet and a great thing for bite into, just like your lips and mine"

Connor presses his lips to mine and bites my bottom one softly.

THE END