Step Into the Sun ||Treebros||

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: art is not mine, I just added the text on it. Credit goes to Ziksua.

A/N: This is my first book, so sorry if it's bad. And, Connor and Zoe's relationship isn't that bad in this book.

Ok, enjoy the book!!

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Connor's p.o.v
"It's your senior year, Connor. You are not missing the first day," my mom pleads.

"I already said, I'd go tomorrow," I declare, walking over to the fridge to get some milk.

"He doesn't listen," Larry, the dude who helped make me and is reading some golf ad on the newspaper, grumbles. "Look at him, he's probably high."

I grip the milk and opened it.

Zoe, the extremely annoying, perfect and everyone-loves-her person, who also happens to share the same parents as me, said in one of those "it's so obvious" voices, "He's definitely high." She dumps some Cheerios into her empty bowl.

The thing is, I remember I crossed out the "Cheer" part on the box and replaced it with "Fear Me" but the "e" looked like an "ar" so now it was "Fear Marios". I did that yesterday when I was high. I still don't know why Mario is scary, but I guess he should be feared.

I chug the milk, trying not to say anything back. I know that if I say something back now, it'll definitely make Mom upset and Larry would probably just yell at me for being "rude" or something.

"I don't want you going to school high, Connor!" Mom says. Great. Since she's already upset, there's no point in ignoring them. And I'm not even high!

I empty the last drop of milk from the container into my mouth before capping it putting it back into the fridge.

"Perfect! So then I won't go. Thanks, Mom!" I say as I purposely stomped up the stairs to annoy Zoe. I wait next to the stairs to hear my evilness take effect.

"Mom, Connor finished the milk!" Zoe exclaims.

I smirk and steal Zoe's make up bag before walking into my room. Enjoy your Fear Marios, Zoe! Extra crunchy, just for you!

I closed the door and flopped onto my bed. My room was normal. Half black walls because I was too lazy to paint all the way to the ceiling, a black queen bed in the corner of the room, a black beanbag chair near it, a dark brown, wooden desk near the door with a black swivel chair, a white laundry basket on the floor with laundry in a pile right next to it. And of course, the TV on some dark brown, wooden TV stand thing.
I guess you could say the color black came in and threw up here a bit.

I start to doze off.

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Evan's p.o.v
I was sitting at the table, eating some scrambled eggs.

"Have you been writing those letters to yourself?" my mom asks, "Dear Evan Hansen, today's gonna be a good day and here's why."

"I started one." I reply, suddenly interested in the fork. I hated these letters. They were hard to write, and whenever I wrote them, they came out really cheesy or stupid.

"Those letters are important, honey," Mom says, placing her hand on my shoulder. "There gonna help you build your confidence!"

"I guess," I mumble. I really doubt that.