Dear Evan Hansen x reader one shots

"I guess it's a little bit of both" (Evan x reader)

🌸Gender neutral reader🌸
Warnings: mental breakdown?? Self doubt and insecurity.

~*Word Count:1400+*~

(Evan's POV)

Pride. It's a feeling and vice that is generally frowned upon due to the negative connotations that accompany it. Me? I usually find that I don't have much pride in myself.

I turn my body away from facing the window and now, I'm presented with the same boring and plain green wall that hadn't changed since I was young, the once fresh paint is now chipped, peeling, and faded.

Y/n won't let me love them because they always want me to be the happiest that I can possibly be but how can I be? They always seem to be constantly pushing me away. Am I doing something wrong or is it me not being able to do anything right?

(Timeskip to mid school day brought to you by me being queer)

(Reader's POV)

Lunch time. It's the place where couples can be seen sucking face as far as the eye can see.
"I love you" "well I love you more, sugar plum"
I inwardly cringe at this while the weird heteros call each other pet names. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate straight people but when they go out of their way to openly shove it down your throats that they love each other, it gets really annoying. Not even just straight folks but everyone on the spectrum and their PDA are just weird. Evan and I are more private with how we're intimate with each other and even so, I'm not too keen on letting Evan really do anything to me or with me. Partly because of personal issues and partly because I'm not comfortable enough with him to let him be in control of anything.

Evan holds my hand under the table with the rest of our odd band of misfits. Alana yawns as she leans her head to her left tiredly, it finds itself sitting on Connor's shoulder which causes the boy to flinch at the sudden contact of the usually timid girl, this results in him turning a crimson red color. His sister and Jared snicker at the this and pull out their phones to take a picture of the clearly oblivious and sleep deprived teens. The small boy at my side rubs his thumb over my first two knuckles, causing me to shiver, he smiles, blushes softly and sits contently next to me. I put our hands between us now and scoot at least a good five inches away from him to let the anxious boy know that he shouldn't get too comfortable.

(Evan's POV)
Y/n is so great. I could never imagine life without them, especially because they help me with my anxiety and self esteem. I smile, remembering the times that they stayed up past the time of which they should've been asleep by and telling me that I was handsome and worth more than a thousand words. I wonder though, why can't they just let me invoke that familiar feeling of amazing self worth, for them?

(Timeskip to after school cuddle session on Ev's bed because I want to)

I pull my tree design adorned blanket over me and Y/n's cold and intertwined bodies. I feel safe but I also feel as if something was off, something I can't put my finger on. I press Y/n's body flush against mine, trying to conserve any heat that might still be redeemed. As I'm holding the tired and stressed human in my arms, I trace small circles on their waist and feel them suddenly flinch. They distance themselves from me and look at me with a look of annoyance in their eyes, they rise, or rather shoot up, and clench their fists.

"Why do you always that, Evan?!" "D-do, um, do what?" "That thing you do, when you touch me in certain areas that I've established I'm not comfortable with?!" "I-um, I just wasn't think-" "weren't thinking?! That's what you always do or rather, that's what you never do! You always try to touch me even though it makes me beyond fucking uncomfortable! God, why do you always do the things that you know will upset me?! Are you trying to make me explode and sock you in the throat Evan?! What's the fucking problem with you?!!"

"What's the fucking problem with you, Y/n?! Why do you always freak out when I put my hand on yours and rub my thumbs on your knuckles or-or when I tried to rest my hand on your thigh at lunch last week and you got up and left me sitting there with so many questions? Why do you leave me alone? Why do you leave me alone with the horrible and suppressed thoughts and emotions that race through my mind and heart at 1 million miles an hour?!"

(3rd person point of view)

A wave of silence floods the already thick with tension atmosphere. Both of the young and overwhelmed teens' breaths are caught in their throats, their stomachs lurch and swirl with an all too familiar feeling of dread, minds racing with thoughts of regret and uncertainty, the young and anxious boy speaks.

"Why do you leave me alone when all I want to do is love you? Are you too proud to let someone that loves you be intimate or are you afraid of letting yourself be vulnerable to me?" Evan Hansen's voice cracks with these words, with the words that he didn't want to let himself believe or come to terms with, the words that he's thought about in thousands of different variations but all still carrying the same message of heartbreak, sorrow, distress and disappointment.

A pause, and then, a voice that cuts through the silence once more with the same tone of anguish and fading fury. "Evan, I-I don't know, I know that I love you, you're worth more to me than I'm worth to myself, but. I just-" "You just what? You're repulsed? You're taken aback by how nervous and sweaty my shaky hands get?!" "No! Evan, no, that's not it. That's never been it the reason is so much more complicated than something as trivial as your sweaty, shaky hands or whether I'm repulsed by you, which I'm not."

The small, anxiety ridden boy takes in a sharp breath, he contemplates hundreds of scenarios that could ensue, the boy parts his chapped and rosy lips to speak but he finds himself speechless, he finds himself unable to speak as fluently or as passionately as he did only seconds ago. He plays with the hem of his blue polo and stutters nervously, he couldn't think.

A broken voice speaks, "Evan? I-I'm-"
Another wave of silence overcomes them, it drowns y/n, it suffocated them. "I guess, it's a little bit of both" "What?" "I guess, it's a little bit of both, Ev. It's both of the reasons that you said earlier, of my pride and letting you be intimate with me. The other thing too, I'm so afraid of not pretending I'm better than these broken parts and pretending I'm something other than this mess that I am!"

"Y/n", hot tears fall to the carpet as the overwhelmed teenager grips the other's blue polo. "I'm afraid of waking up and living life each day as if something were to happen, if I were to disappear and be forgotten."

(Evan's POV)

I ghost my digits over y/n's jaw, then over their tear stained cheeks. Light, almost nonexistent feather like touches that cause them to shiver. I look at them, they look at me and I look at them and they look at me and I say "No one deserves to be forgotten, no one deserves to fade away, no one should come and go and have know one know they were ever even here. No one deserves to disappear"

I rub their back in small and consistent circular motions, they sniffle, even cough in my arms and as they do so, I connect my lips to theirs and pull away from those smooth fairytale princess lips (this applies to a lot of people not just girls btw) and in a low, soothing voice I repeat to them and myself a small comfort phrase that my mom would tell me every now and then.

"It was just a thought, just a thought, it's okay, it's okay, you've got nothing, got nothing to fear.

I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.