Thank You, Connor Murphy

Chapter One: Connor

Hey guys, so this is my first fic. Yay! I really hope you enjoy, and get to know TreeBros. Lots of love! ❤️

Sincerely,

Me (Kitty)

(Trigger warnings: suicidal thoughts and panic attack)

"Connor, it's your senior year. You are not missing the first day." Cynthia says, pouring orange juice into a glass. 

"I already said I'd go tomorrow!" I say, slouching in his chair. Why did summer have to end? At least during the summer I  was free to sleep all day, and ignore the world. And get high. 

"He doesn't listen!" Larry says, annoyed, "Look at him, he's probably high."

"He's definitely high." Zoe says, taking Larry's side as usual.

"I don't need you picking on your brother!" Cynthia says, trying to keep the peace, "Besides, he's not high." She looks to me for confirmation. I stop shoveling cereal in my face for a second a look up. She throws her hands in the air in exasperation. "I don't want you going to school high, Connor!"

"Perfect!" I say, standing up and shoving the chair back in. "So then I won't go." I grab my bag. "Thanks Mom!" I say, storming off. I slam the front door behind me.

The air outside is cold, and I pull my hoodie tighter around my body. I start walking towards school. I really could just ditch, but what's the point? I'll just get yelled at more by Larry. Not that it really fazes me anymore. 

I walk along the concrete sidewalk, feeling angry. Just angry. At Larry, at Cynthia, at Zoe, at the world, at myself. I study my nails. The black polish is chipping a little bit. I remember when I first started painting my nails, around 7th grade. Zoe and me were still close then. I remember that we would take turns painting each other's nails. I always painted her's purple, and she always either did black, blue, or, when she was being artsy, rainbow. I loved when she did rainbow for the first time. But then Larry started yelling at me for being a homo, and did I want kids to make fun of me? So I took it off.

I arrive at school on time. For once. I walk into the building with the other students, feeling their stares on my back, and hearing their whispers. I go over to my locker and open it.

"Connor!" I hear a voice behind me say. I turn and see Jared Klienman, in all his asshole glory. "Loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic." 

I glare at him. He seems to shrink a little bit. "Hey, I was only kidding. It was a joke."

"Oh yeah, I bet it was. Can't you tell I'm laughing?" I say coldly. I step closer to him. I realize that there's a kid standing next to him, wearing a blue polo shirt. "Am I not laughing hard enough for you?" I feel the anger bubble up inside me, threatening to explode. He steps back, looking a little scared. 

"You're such a freak." Kienman says, and walks off. I turn to the kid standing there. He looks absolutely terrified. Suddenly, I explode. Red lines my vision.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?!" I yell at the kid. A couple of students stare at us, but keep walking. I ignore them.

"I-I'm not l-laughing." He stammers.

"You think I'm a freak?!" I scream. All my anger pours out.

"N-no..." He says, backing away.

"You're the fucking freak!" I yell, pushing him to the ground and running past. Only then do I see that he had a cast on his arm. Of course he does. I run into the bathroom and into a stall. I slam the door behind me, locking it tight. 

Tears pour down my face. I'm just so fucking stupid. I shakily reach into my pocket and pull out a bottle of sleeping pills I had swiped from the medicine cabinet that morning. I couldn't even make it through one day. I pour a couple pills into my hand. I stare at them for a moment. Would they be enough? I pour the rest of the pills into my hand just to be sure.

I'm about to throw them in my mouth, but something stops me. I hear someone crying outside of the bathroom stall. I lower my hand and pour the pills back into the bottle. I stand up, wiping my eyes. I open the door and see a kid sitting on the ground sobbing with his head in his arms. I slowly walk towards him and notice that it's the same kid I pushed in the hallway.

I crouch next to him, "Hey, are you okay?" I ask. He barely looks up, and shakes his head. He's breathing really fast, and that's when it hits me, he's having a panic attack. Shit. I pull out my phone and quickly google 'how to help someone having a panic attack'. I read the instructions. "Okay," I say to the kid, "Breathe with me. In for five, out for five."  He does what I say, slowly becoming more calm. 

He starts to breathe normally, but his head is still in his hands. "Hey," I say, "You're okay. You're going to be okay." He looks up at me through red eyes. 

"Th-thank you." He says. He looks grateful, until he recognizes me. Fear flashes across his face. He starts to back away a little bit.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say. He seems to become a little less scared, but there is still fear on his face. "I'm sorry for pushing you." He nods shakily.

"I'm E-Evan Hansen." He sticks out his not broken hand. I shake it.

"Connor," I say, "Look, Hansen, I really am sorry for pushing you." 

He nods again. "Sorry." 

"No one's, uh, signed your cast." I say. 

"Oh, yeah. Um." Hansen says nervously.

"Well I'll sign it." I say, scooching a little closer. 

"N-no, you d-don't have to." He says.

"Do you have a sharpie?" I respond. Hansen nods, and reaches into the backpack laying next to him, pulling out a sharpie. He hands it to me, and I uncap the pen. I grab his arm.

"Ow." Hansen says. Of course, I hurt another human being.

"Sorry," I say, feeling regretful. I scribble my name across his arm. I admire my work.

"Oh, uh, thanks." He says, looking at my name scrawled in giant letters on his arm. 

"Yeah, well, now we can both pretend we have friends." I say, handing him the sharpie back. He takes it and shoves it into his backpack.

"W-what did you say your n-name was again?" Hansen asks. 

"Connor Murphy." I say, and look at him. He has blond hair and blue eyes. His hair is a little messy, and it looks cute.

"Thank you, Connor Murphy." Hansen says, staring back at me. We stare at each other for a couple minutes until he breaks the silence. "Uh, I should, uh, go to class." He stammers. I nod and watch him sling his backpack over his shoulder and jog out. I stare at him as he leaves.

Evan Hansen.