ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐬

020. connor

Connor paced back and forth in his bedroom, the lights off and shades closed. He brought a hand up to run it through his unkempt hair, only for his fingers to become tangled in the wild brambles. His mouth twisting into a grimace, Connor tore his hand from his head and allowed himself to stumble forwards into his desk, propping himself up on the table with his elbows. Crumpled drafts of poetry littered the workspace, each one poorly attempting to convey Connor's emotions but failing each time.

Lifting his head up, Connor stared wearily down at the paper he had crushed into balls. He reached gingerly for one of his drafts and unraveled it. No matter how many times he ran his fingers over the wrinkles, Connor could not undo the damage he had done out of anger to the paper.

His eyes scanned the words. Connor picked up a dull pencil he had left on his desk. He lowered the nearly flat lead towards the paper as he struggled to piece together the correct words. When nothing felt right, Connor felt his annoyance grow. He stabbed at the paper, scratching quickly and harshly until all of the words were hidden behind grey lines. Connor grabbed his failed work and crushed it in his fist, and while letting out some sort of gurgled cry, he hurled it at the wall.

Still in his throwing position, Connor paused to even out his labored breathing. "What the fuck," he whispered. "Stop it."

With his heart hammering in his chest, Connor took a deep breath. He backed away until he reached his bed and let himself fall backwards onto the mattress. The glow stars on the ceiling above him were still there from when he was small. He never cared to peel them off. With his eyes, Connor traced the outline of each star, maneuvering up and down and over the hills. The darkness of his bedroom helped to bring out their faint glow.

What was wrong with him? He didn't know Evan. Evan didn't know him. This situation was vastly different than Connor's... relationship with Miguel. Connor scrunched up his nose.

Did he even like Evan, or was he just deprived of social interaction? Did he just enjoy having someone to somewhat vent to? Was he confusing his feelings with platonic appreciation? This was confusing. Connor didn't sign up for this bullshit. As bitter of a taste that it left in his mouth, all Connor knew was that he... ugh... missed talking to Evan.

Then, through his wall, Connor heard a soft melody pieced together by the plucking of guitar strings; and soon, a quiet voice accompanied it. Zoe sometimes practiced by herself in her room, and when Connor was actually home, although he'd never admit it, he'd occasionally listen.

Exhaustion began to flood through Connor's brain and turn it into mush. Fixed on his bedroom's very own night sky as well as his sister's song, Connor began to blink slower. He stared at the ceiling through his eyelashes until his eyelids became too heavy to fight. With his eyes closed, Connor focused on Zoe's guitar, not caring whether or not he fell asleep.

I don't need more reminders of all that's been broken...

Connor thought of Miguel and how he never contacted him again after the incident. How he ran away like a coward. How he ruined something that never needed to be ruined.

I don't need you to fix what I'd rather forget...

Would he ever go back to Miguel if he ever found the courage? Connor didn't know. The guilt remained eating away at him a year later, but Connor never could find the right way to go about fixing what he did wrong. Lately, his mind had been more and more Miguel-free, but... this... had seemed to allow Miguel to rebuild a home in his heart.

Clear the slate and start over...

If someone were to come into Connor's room, they would think he were having a nightmare based on only his closed-eyed expression. Connor couldn't go back because he had already ran away. By doing nothing, Connor had chosen to try to forget. He didn't forget. He couldn't.

Try to quiet the noises in your head...

Despite the gentleness of Zoe's guitar and voice, each line seemed to make Connor's stomach drop even further. He hated being angry and he hated hating. Yet, everyone around him acted like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Connor inhaled deeply to try and soothe the anger brewing in his chest.

We can't compete with all that...

No matter how many bullshit programs his mom signed him up for, Connor couldn't get rid of the tangles stuck inside of him. He only seemed to become more lost as he drove further and deeper into the forest.

So what if it's us? What if it's us and only us?

And then there was Evan. It wasn't like Connor talked to him a lot but... Somehow, when he did, the sun shone through the branches in the wood a little more. He was the only one who would listen. For unspoken reasons that Connor couldn't pin-point, he could feel that Evan understood him better than any professional that tried to.

And what came before won't count anymore or matter?

Connor wanted to forget whatever he had with Miguel, but at the same, he wanted to remember. Similar to the effect Evan had on him, Miguel was like an anchor that kept Connor from spiraling... except he hardly knew Evan. Guilt dropped onto him. What if whatever he felt for Evan was just a convenient way to replace Miguel? Even though they hadn't talked in a year, Connor wondered if just by feeling this way, he was betraying Miguel.

Can we try that?

Connor's eyes shot open. Inspiration struck him. He flopped over onto his stomach, patting his bed in search of his phone. After fumbling around and turning over his sheets, Connor's fingers made contact with the cracked phone screen. He tapped into his notes app and immediately began typing, praying that the idea wouldn't evaporate before he could translate it into words.

Unknowingly, Connor began to hum along with Zoe's guitar. For the first time in a little while, Connor finished a draft he was happy with. He copy and pasted the entire poem, then made little changes in word choice and structure. When he was satisfied with what he had created, Connor edited the background of the poem into black and took a screenshot.

He tapped into Instagram and was setting up the caption for a new post when the sound of Zoe's guitar ceased. It was replaced with a door opening and footsteps nearing Connor's bedroom. Connor's body automatically tensed as every ounce of calmness in him was swapped with irritation.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

"Connor. Dinner," Zoe said from the other side of his door.

Connor immediately saw red. He opened his mouth to snarkily reply when he caught sight of the poem in his hands. What would Evan think of him? Would he be... scared? Connor's rigid posture deflated ever-so-slightly.

"...Give me a minute," he grunted.

Zoe didn't respond, and Connor wondered what was going through her head. After a moment, he heard her walk away and descend down the stairs.

Connor stared at his door, his heart rate a little higher than usual, but he was proud of himself for managing to react calmly. He turned back to his phone and finished writing the caption. For a moment, Connor's thumb hovered over the "share" button. He took a deep breath and posted it.

Dropping his cell phone onto his bed, Connor stood up and prepared himself to face another family dinner. Just as he stepped out of his bedroom and closed the door, a notification lit up the screen.

Evan.Hansen liked your post.

—

evan in his letters: hey guys school's going great—

LIE

evan: i feel awesome—

L I E

evan: everything is completely fine—

V E R Y  B I G  L I E

meow ✌️😗