❝𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙❞
Evan Hansen finds himself immersed in an online stranger's poetic work. But when his poet posts a poem with danger laced in-between the lines...
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c.murphreak mess — sry for the hiatus :/
37 minutes ago
Holding his phone loosely in his free hand, Evan squinted at its bright screen. He sat on his bed, hunched over in an uncomfortable position. Evan held his phone in front of his laptop, ignoring how hot it felt on his lap.
Evan pulled down his settings and dragged his finger across the screen, turning his brightness down to a calmer level. He read Connor's words, imagining the poet—what did Connor look like? Evan had no idea, but his imagination provided him with an empty shell of a person as some sort of placeholder—writing at 2 a.m. with red eyes and shaking hands after another argument with his parents. Evan couldn't imagine what Connor's home life was like, and yet, there were strings that connected Connor's story to his own.
Rrriiing rrriiing...
Evan kept his individual relationships with his mom and dad separate. His personal life wasn't as explicitly messy as Connor made his out to be, but Evan sensed his own mother biting back words she wouldn't—no, couldn't—say out loud. He wondered when she would burst and finally cry out that she couldn't live with this constant reminder of how she wasn't enough for his father. How she was stuck with their fucked-up kid that needed constant babying and attention. It wasn't Evan's fault he was made this way, and both he and his mom were fully aware. Still, Evan knew that life would be so much easier on her if he just disappeared.
He stared down at his cast, biting down on his trembling lip.
Rrriiing rrriiing...
The calls with Evan's dad became less and less frequent. Evan didn't know what to expect, but he knew what he had hoped. Evan hoped that he could visit his dad someday, and they would do things fathers and sons do. What do normal fathers and sons do? Throw footballs, go fishing... Hell, maybe his dad would even teach him how to barbecue. Evan didn't know how to react to the fact that his dad would be enjoying these activities with his new kids. It was like his dad was starting over in life, and the first step was to erase Evan from the picture.
Rrriiing rrriiing...
Despite the emotions swirling and churning in Evan's chest, he managed to keep a straight face. He didn't need to cry right now. He didn't want to. Evan needed to finish this letter; he hated feeling the burn of the miserably hot embarrassment after letting down his therapist. He remembered the last time he didn't bring in a letter. His therapist wasn't very good at hiding disappointment.
Rrriiing rrriiing—
Wait, crap, someone was calling. Evan hadn't even realized he spaced out. Answer, answer answer—no, shit, too late.
Evan groaned, dropping his phone onto his bed. He shut his laptop, placing it on the floor as gently as he could. He sighed heavily, picking the small device back up and checking the missed call.
PHONE now Mom Missed Call
Glancing up from his phone and noticing the darkness of his room, Evan concluded that it had to be at least 5:30 p.m. Heidi said she would be home around 6.
Evan listened to the voicemail she left.
Hi, Honey. How's my little guy?
Her voice was tired, crackling at the end of her sentence.
Listen, I-I know I said I would be home for dinner, but—
Evan knew where this was going. He threw his phone across his bedroom and pulled his knees to his chest. He buried his face into his knees, wanting desperately to cry, but the tears refused to spill. The rest of his mother's message played softly from the other side of the room.
—they asked me to cover a couple of shifts, and...
Heidi trailed off.
There's leftover Chinese food in the fridge from Thursday.
A pause.
I'll see you soon, okay? I love you.
Evan sat still for a minute before sitting up and rubbing his tearless eyes. Immediately regretting throwing his phone, Evan got up and practically cradled it in his hands, checking for any cracks or dents. He unlocked his phone, and Connor's poem remained on the screen. Evan double tapped the post.
He considered messaging Connor. Perhaps he would mention that he was happy Connor was posting again. It was his first post after that... certain post, after all.
His hands holding his phone, Evan's thumbs wiggled in the air, avoiding touching the screen. No. He had already talked to him today. Evan certainly didn't want to seem annoying.
Evan shut off his phone, not admitting to himself that he wished Connor would DM him.
He just wished he mattered to someone.
—
evan: hey connor
connor: whassup bitch
evan: haha stop
connor: 👅 bitch
evan: OHh
eee i have play rehearsal every day and i've been trying to balance schoolwork, rehearsal, and this but my free time is just,, diminishing
thank u all for being patient with me. i appreciate and love all of u <3
