Treebros Fanfiction

6

(Evan's POV) 

Zoe approaches me at school the morning after our tense dinner. 

"Have you seen Connor?" she asks, not seeming to mind Jared, who is standing next to me.

"U-um, no, sorry," I stammer. The last time I saw Connor was last night, at dinner, but there's no need for me to say that. She already knows I saw him there.

She huffs out an angry breath, tugging on her backpack straps frustratedly. "He disappeared after you went home last night. Mom told him that he has to tell someone before he goes anywhere..." She trails off, rolling her eyes. "You haven't heard from him, either?"

I shake my head, throwing a sidelong glance to Jared who has somehow managed to stay quiet.

"Of course not," Zoe grumbles. "Well, if he does text.. or call.. just let me know, okay?" 

"Mkay." 

She turns on her heel and walks briskly away to go to her first class.

"You were at their house?" Jared asks. "What's that about?" 

I fill him in on how I ruined Connor's suicide attempt, how my letter was found in his pocket and everyone assumed he wrote it for me, how I couldn't bring myself to tell Connor's parents the truth, and how I was at their place last night for dinner.

"This is a whole lotta trouble to go to just to screw Zoe," is all he has to say on the matter.

"That is NOT-"

"Hey, I get it man. She's smokin' hot. Only problem is, Connor Murphy is boiling mad. Like, all the time. Trying to get into his little sister's pants is a great way to die young." 

Yes, I know. I've already experienced a little teaspoon of his brotherly rage. He was NOT happy about my letter.

"That's not wh-why I'm doing this!" I insist. 

"Suuuuuure." 

--

The day passes by slowly, as all school days do, and at the end of the day I see Zoe standing at her locker. She keeps checking her phone, face permanently creased with worry. As if she can feel me staring, she looks up from her phone and her eyes meet mine. She forced a friendly smile, which I return, then slams her locker shut and walks away.

The following morning, she still wears that face of perpetual worry, but it's gone by second period. I assume that means she has heard from Connor- if that's even the thing she was worried about. I haven't heard from Connor, obviously. I have no way to contact him.

At lunch, Zoe goes out of her way to find me.

"He's okay," she tells me. "He texted me. I figured you'd want to know, since he's your best friend." 

Alright, well, you can stop rubbing it in. I know you don't believe me.

"Th-that's good!" I awkwardly give her a thumbs up. Oh my God, I'm so stupid. 

The next day- finally- after two whole days of not seeing Connor, he's back at school. I don't even have to see him to know he's there. All I see is the crowd of people in the hallway parting like the Red Sea and I know. I remember this being a frequent occurrence last year- people giving Connor a six foot berth as if he was carrying some sort of awful disease. 

This year, it's somewhat different. Sure, people are giving him a ton of space, but there are also a lot of people invading that space. I watch in horror as a small freshman- well, anyone looks small next to Connor but whatever- walks right up to him and tries to start a conversation. 

"Hi! Um, I don't really know you, but I, uh, heard you tried to kill yourself-" Real good social skills on that one. He's gonna go far. Or, he'll go as far as Connor can drop kick him. "- and I made this for you." 

He holds out a handmade-looking card. I imagine it says something well intentioned, but there's really no way to make 'Oh shit, you tried to kill yourself? Here's a get well soon card!' sound good.

Connor looks down at the kid, and I briefly worry for the young one's safety. Fortunately, instead of murdering him, Connor just shoves the kid out of his way and keeps walking. Jared snickers at the freshman's stupidity.

"I can't believe someone actually tried to be nice to Connor Murphy." 

And it's not the last time that happens. Throughout the morning, shallow people continuously approach them with superficial well wishes and other frivolous nonsense, trying to completely gaslight him into forgetting that they were the ones who have spent the last ten years whispering about him behind his back, calling him names, and throwing trash at him. Obviously it doesn't work. Connor either gets loud or physically violent with anyone who gets within a four foot range of him.

Everyone, that is, except me.

I don't even know what pushes me to do it, really. I have no idea where I got the audacity, but I find myself locating Connor at lunchtime and sitting right next to him, fully prepared to be screamed at or hit. But he does neither. Granted, he does glare at me, but he doesn't tell me to fuck off or anything.

"It's weird, you know," he says flatly. I frown, confused, so he clarifies, "People you've never spoken to knowing so much about your life. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" 

I imagine he's talking about his suicide attempt, but I really don't know anything about it. I certainly didn't tell everyone about what I saw.

"I m-may have been there, but I did-didn't tell anyone about it," I promise.

He turns to face me, staring into my soul with his strikingly blue eyes. After a moment, he seems to decide that he's satisfied with what he sees, so he turns away from me once again.

"So whaddya want?" he asks. 

"Oh! Um..." I start picking anxiously at my cast. What do I want? It's not like I came over to tell him how sorry I am that he's depressed, like everyone else has been doing. "Well, I, uh, I wanted to know i-if you would be interested in, um, actually being friends. W-with me. Be-because I already lied to your, um, to your parents about it a-a-and it would be cool if we, uh, if we weren't lying to your parents and if it were true. Also, my only friend is Jared, and he's, um, well, he's pretty mean to me." 

I quit rambling and look up from my cast. He's got his elbow propped up on the table and is resting his chin in the palm of his hand, staring at me with absolutely no visible emotion. I shrink under his scrutinizing gaze.

"What do I get out of it?" He looks bored, which is great because it's a step up from angry. I would not be trying to talk to him right now if I thought he was angry.

"U-um... I don't.. I don't know?" 

"Hmm. Well, I guess that'll have to be enough. You're getting the short end of this, though. I'm a really bad friend." 

Personally, I don't think anyone could be a worse friend than me. I hate hanging out with people, I'm not a good conversationalist, I'm just overall boring. All the interesting things about Connor may not be good things, but at least they're interesting things. 

"I-if you say so!" I laugh meekly, trying to remember what exactly I get out of forging a friendship with Connor.

Oh yeah, it will help quell the guilt I feel every time I think about how I lied to his parents. And maybe he won't push me anymore. Yeah, that'd be nice. 

(THREE CHAPTERS IN THE SAME WEEK! I've just remembered how much I love this musical, so enjoy the hyperfixation while it lasts)