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June 6th
The bass from the speakers pulsed under his sneakers and Evan rubbed his clammy palms along his khakis. The steady beat of the music shaking the rafters of the house thankfully swallowed his nervous whimper.
Who would have thought Evan Hansen would end up at a high school house party? Not that it was by choice. Oh no, Jared was to blame for this situation. His continuous begging and pleading for Evan to attend the start of summer bash wore down his excuses until he caved.
God, what a disaster. He’d kill him if he ever found him in the crush of teenage drunkenness; Jared ghosted him upon arrival to get smashed and hopefully, laid. Though Evan didn’t think he would have much luck with the latter, despite Jared’s insistence that he was “a goddamn catch.”
Now, he was all alone. Tucked in a corner of the kitchen, hoping either the floor would open up beneath his feet or for a guardian angel to offer him a ride home. It was too far from his house to walk home in the dark, and he didn’t have enough money to arrange an Uber.
And, oh God, what if Jared found someone stupid or drunk enough to sleep with him? Would he abandon him here to fend for himself? Evan wouldn’t put it past the asshole.
Shit, shit, shit.
Surely, he wouldn’t do that. Not really. Right? They might be “family friends,” but he wouldn’t… wouldn’t seriously leave him alone. God, he hoped not. But then again, what if he did? Family friendship only went so far, as Jared frequently reminded him, and if Jared managed to get lucky Evan knew he’d hang him out to dry without a second thought.
He’d be stuck here. Maybe forever. Or at least until people noticed he was having a goddamn panic attack, but that could take hours because no one noticed him. What if he passed out? What humiliating things would they do to him while he was vulnerable? A thousand awful thoughts swirled through his mind as he spiralled.
Curling in on himself, Evan’s breaths became erratic and his vision darkened as he struggled to get oxygen to his terrified brain. He was sinking—drowning under the discordant notes of the music, melting into a puddle as his throat closed, wheezing pathetically in distress.
Evan could practically feel everyone’s eyes on him as the anxiety he carried like a weight around his neck threatened to asphyxiate him. All the popular kids and jocks likely watching him crumble in the kitchen, exposed, with nowhere to hide.
Freak. Loser. Worthless. Burden.
“Shit dude, you need to breathe.” A soft, deep voice broke through his panic, coming from a dark figure crouched in front of him. “Can I touch you or would that make it worse?”
Evan shook his head. Flashes of imagined scenes of his classmates embarrassing him and taking pictures to post on social media, the potential fallout dogging him into adulthood, played like a horror movie in his mind. If anyone touched him right now, he’d implode like a deep-sea diver with the bends sinking into the pressurized vacuum of the abyss. Lost forever, body unrecoverable, just bits of flotsam raining like snow through impenetrable blackness.
The person hummed thoughtfully in consideration, and to his eternal shame, Evan whimpered when the person wandered off. The shock of cold plastic hitting his palm grounded him enough to regain his sight. Blinking rapidly to clear the lingering visions, he stared uncomprehendingly at the guy hunched across from him. Connor Murphy’s intense blue eyes held his gaze, further yanking him to reality and abruptly punching air into his lungs. Jerking his chin toward the water in his grip, he silently reminded Evan to drink.
Cracking the seal on the cap, Evan dipped his head gratefully and took a long pull from the chilled beverage. Connor calculated every movement, wary and hesitant, appraising. Evan realized he was just as nervous of his reaction to his help as Evan was of his unlikely rescuer.
“Um, th-thank you,” he rasped when his tongue finally loosened. Connor ducked his head behind his curtain of dark hair, but Evan thought he caught a faint dusting of pink across his pale cheeks. It was probably the weird colors from the haphazardly strewn strobe lights.
“First-time jitters?” Connor murmured, voice purposefully pitched low; calm and strangely soothing.
Shuffling awkwardly, Evan nodded, praying the other boy would leave so he could find Jared and convince him to take him home. Clicking his tongue, Connor popped open his drink. Evan startled at the sound, ricocheting in his head like a bullet in the haze following his panic, but he relaxed at the sight of the Coke can.
“Surprised?” Connor asked, glancing at his non-alcoholic choice. Evan blushed, fidgeting in embarrassment. “Don’t worry, Hansen, I’m well aware of what people say about me. I’m not pissed at you. I don’t drink at these things, though—too shady. Word of advice: never drink the punch, it’s usually heavily spiked, and only drink from cans or bottles that you open yourself.”
Evan nodded seriously as he swallowed another mouthful of icy water, holding a small amount under his tongue to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating this odd exchange with Connor Murphy in some unknown kid’s house.
“Thanks, Connor,” he whispered. The lanky teen blinked to hear his name in combination with a word of gratitude. Evan’s chest tightened with the realization that the pair of them weren’t so dissimilar. He should be terrified of Connor (his reputation preceded him after all), but he wasn’t. The other boy hadn’t done or said anything, except to extend genuine kindness. Out of a houseful of people, including his supposed “friend,” Connor was the one who came to his aid, and that mattered.
Clearing his throat, Connor dropped his gaze, “Yeah, no problem.” He rolled his shoulders with faux nonchalance. “Uh, want to chill in the backyard? It’s quieter.” Evan nodded briskly, almost missing the minuscule quirk of Connor’s lips as he unfolded from his crouch with surprising grace. Following close on his heels, Evan slunk through the throng without freaking out, exhaling in relief when they reached the deck.
“Thank God,” Evan muttered, smiling faintly at Connor’s snort. “Much less cl-claustrophobic.”
Leaning against the railing with an ease he envied, Connor glanced at him. “So, why are you here? You don’t strike me as the party type.”
Rolling the water bottle between his palms, Evan quipped dryly, “Wh-what gave me away? M-My inability to communicate like a normal person or the panic a-attack in front of half the student body?”
Arching a brow at him, Connor pursed his lips as though holding back a laugh. “Holy shit, Hansen, did you just sass me? I didn’t know you fucking had it in you. I’m impressed.”
Rolling his eyes teasingly, Evan scoffed, “Just b-because I struggle to talk, d-doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of humor.”
“Ah, but the real question is, is it more or less self-deprecating than mine?” Connor’s eyes flashed with amusement and Evan chuckled.
“Call it a tie,” Evan mumbled around the lip of his water. A bubble of laughter tumbled from Connor’s mouth, surprising them both. They sipped their drinks and Evan studied the other’s black combat boots scuffing along the varnished wood. Unconsciously he followed the impossibly long, lean legs in signature black, ripped skinny jeans to the black tee and hoodie combo, and dark chipped nail polish.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Connor mused quietly, meeting Evan’s startled gaze. A smirk played on his lips and Evan blushed furiously to be caught checking him out. Waving a ringed hand at the house behind them, Connor continued, “It’s not your scene. I mean, I get trying new things, but damn. If it’s gonna send you into a meltdown, why risk it?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Evan muttered, “J-Jared convinced me to come.”
“Of fucking course,” Connor grumbled. “Let me guess, Kleinman ditched you as soon as you arrived?” He sighed heavily at Evan’s curt nod. “That’s a dick move, man. Why the fuck are you friends with him, anyway?”
“Um, we aren’t real friends. We’re ‘family friends.’ Our moms grew up together, so we’ve known each other since we were little. If he doesn’t hang out with me, his parents won’t pay his car insurance.”
Connor’s deep blue eyes flared with indignation. “What the actual fuck, Hansen? Are you telling me that the guy who’s acted like he’s your best friend since fucking elementary school is faking for car insurance?”
“Pretty much,” Evan affirmed.
“That… is so fucked up. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
Evan shrugged, stomping on the icy tendrils of despair churning in his gut. He hated people pitying him, but this was one thing he couldn’t deny was pathetic. And now the only person who might be lower on the social hierarchy than himself knew and probably judged him for it.
“Well,” Connor said, “I’ll be your friend. If you want,” he whispered.
Snapping his head up in surprise, Evan found Connor nervously tapping the aluminum can in his hand, shoulders tight and curled almost to his ears. The definition of uncomfortable and already expecting the blow of rejection, but Evan couldn’t do that to him. Connor had shown him gentleness and understanding without judgment, in opposition to his fearsome reputation, and he’d been genuinely angry on Evan’s behalf when he learned the truth about Jared. Maybe he could have a real friend.
“Okay,” Evan agreed. “I’d like that.”
Connor’s piercing eyes seared him to the floor. He shivered at the intensity, but it wasn’t from fear. Evan was suddenly visible; seen and laid bare before the enigmatic boy. Exposed, perhaps, but sheltered from harm. Evan trusted him.
The same tumultuous rush of emotion swirled in Connor’s oceanic gaze, a hurricane of unspoken hopes and fears, and Evan’s heart ached for the lonely soul that mirrored his own. Wrapped in black, shrouded in mystery, Connor’s persona was a disguise. Meant to redirect others’ attention, he willingly hid behind his reputation. While the anger management issues might be real, people purposefully goaded him. Every fight at school was precipitated by cruel teens pushing his buttons, watching him wreak havoc so they could gossip about him in the aftermath of his destructive wrath. But Connor was gracious and protective, loyal and gentle, once past his prickly exterior. It only took him minutes to warm up to Evan after he stepped in to help him in the kitchen. He was begging to be seen, too. Known for who he really was underneath the surface. Evan could relate—more than the other boy could understand.
“Seriously? You’re not fucking with me?”
Evan shook his head. “No, Connor, I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you. You helped me through a panic attack and you didn’t have to. No one asked you to, you did it because you’re nice. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you?”
Connor gaped at him through his curtain of hair. “I am not a good person and I have zero idea how to be a friend to anyone. This might be an epic disaster,” he chuckled nervously.
Shooting Connor a weak smile, Evan stated, “Well, I’m already a disaster. Guess we can be epic together.”
Barking a short laugh, Connor shook his head in awe. “Dude, I had no idea how funny you were.”
“Most people don’t. I usually keep my comebacks to myself.”
“No need to do that around me. Everything that comes out of your mouth is gold.” Connor’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out and swore at the video someone texted him.
“Fucking hell, it’s Zoe. She’s wasted. She’s the sole reason I come to these damn things, so I can keep an eye on her. I have to find her in there before something happens, but I’ll be right back, okay?”
Evan nodded and waved him off. “Go, your sister needs you. I’ll be here.”
“Thanks. I’m leaving my Coke with you. I trust you not to roofie me while I’m gone,” he replied with a lopsided smirk. Evan rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
“You’re in luck, I left my GHB at home.” Connor’s unexpectedly bright laughter rang in his ears even after he disappeared inside the house.
As soon as Connor left, Evan’s buffer against the world collapsed and the familiar churn of anxiety rumbled in his gut; building, building, building, clawing into his chest and gripping his heart. Too tight against the rabbit-rapid pulse in his ribs, it bled into his lungs, shutting them down, making it hard to breathe. His head buzzed and ants scrambled under his skin.
Couldn’t God give him a fucking break? Couldn’t he go one damn day without failing at being normal?
“Here, have a beer.” Evan spun around, thankfully not so far gone in his own head that he toppled over and created a scene. A guy built like a linebacker he vaguely recognized from his class slapped a freezing can in his sweaty palm.
“Seriously, it will relax you, bro. Seems like you need it.”
The nameless guy raised his own can in salute, and Evan blushed in shame at his awkwardness as he cracked his open and hesitantly brought the foamy beverage to his lips. He’d never been a fan of beer, his palate more accustomed to Manischewitz, but he took a sip while successfully suppressing a shudder. Evan tossed him a minuscule smile, hoping it would be enough to convince him he was fine and go away.
“Name’s Tyler and you’re… Evan, right?” Nodding in acknowledgment, he took another sip to avoid answering and making an idiot of himself. “I’ve never seen you at one of these before. Let me guess, you came with Kleinman?”
“Y-Yeah,” Evan murmured. Shit, did everyone think he and Jared were a matched pair or something? He really needed to branch out and meet people. Tyler took a long draught of his beer, his eyes pinning Evan to the ground like a butterfly on display, before glancing through the window to the crowd of teenagers gyrating in the living room.
“He ditch you?” Evan sighed and gave him a clipped nod, following his wordless confession with an aggravated pull of alcohol. “What an asshole.”
Evan shrugged. “I’m k-kinda used to it, t-to be honest.” Tyler’s eyebrows skyrocketed into his hair.
“Man, that sucks. Well, you’re welcome to hang out with me. I came solo and everyone I would normally talk to is either already plastered or occupied.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance, ignoring Evan’s heated blush.
“Th-that’s ok. You-you don’t have t-to do that.” God, he hoped Connor came back soon. Something about this conversation felt forced and wrong.
Tyler grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Nah, it’s cool. I’m not gonna leave you to the sharks.”
Twisting his thumb in the hem of his polo shirt, Evan bobbed his head nervously, as Tyler steered him off the deck and into the dimly lit yard toward a pair of lawn chairs.
“Thanks,” he mumbled uncertainly.
“No problem,” Tyler breezily replied. “So, any plans for summer?”
Evan flushed around the aluminum pressed against his lips. “Yeah, actually. I h-have an internship at Ellison State Park, s-starting next week. What-what about you?”
“Picking up extra shifts at the mall, probably. Gotta stockpile all the money I can while school is out.”
“Oh, um, that’s smart,” Evan agreed. “Um, wh-where in the mall do you work?”
Tyler grinned, sweeping a hand along his distressed designer jeans and green ombré tee. “Hollister. We don’t get much of a discount on apparel, but it’s part of the job to be decked out in their merch. My closet is now ninety percent trying-too-hard-preppy-chic.”
“It’s n-not a bad look. I mean, uh, I’m halfway there,” Evan replied. “I’m m-missing the jeans, but I have the p-polos.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Tyler shook his head and smirked when Evan glanced at the ground. “Seriously dude, I had no idea you were snarky. You should talk more, like, for real.”
Shooting Tyler a timid smile, he nodded. “I’ll try. Make it a g-goal for s-senior year.”
“That’s it,” he laughed, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “I’m loading you up on cheap beer! I gotta hear all this hidden sarcasm myself. Don’t go anywhere, I’m gonna grab fresh drinks.”
Evan popped out of the chair once Tyler disappeared, scanning the pockets of necking teenagers for a sign of his friend. Jesus, he hoped Zoe was alright. He knew Connor wouldn’t abandon him like Jared—the only explanation for his long absence was that he was busy taking care of his sister. Maybe he should go inside and track him down before Tyler returned.
Damn, too late.
Tyler spotted him fidgeting anxiously as he strode down the deck stairs. Evan narrowed his eyes as he approached with two red solo cups, immediately recalling Connor’s warning from earlier. He needed to get away—this... this didn’t feel right. Tyler’s smile seemed sharper now and an oily, sick sensation settled in his gut. Amazing how after an hour Evan felt safer with the boy clad head-to-toe in black than the one in expensive name-brand attire.
“I-I should try to find Jared. It’s getting l-late,” he turned slightly, angling himself away from the larger boy, jerking his thumb at the house.
Tyler closed the distance between them, holding out a cup with a wide grin. “He’s fine. Besides, he ditched you, bro. We’ll just hang out here and chat. If you need a ride later, I can give you one.”
His tone didn’t match the words, and the ground shifted under Evan’s feet, or maybe it was simply the visceral reaction of his body trying to remain upright while his stomach plummeted through the earth’s crust, hurtling him toward the magma core of the planet. It suggested something Evan didn’t really want to take part in with Tyler. He needed to get away—he needed an escape or a rescue. God, he needed to grow a spine.
Evan gave him a tight smile. “No, th-thanks. One drink was enough and I-I have to get home before c-curfew,” he lied. His mom was pulling an overnight at the hospital and wouldn’t be home until eight in the morning, but the leer on Tyler’s face made his skin crawl. “Thanks, th-though. I a-appreciate the offer.”
“Come on, man. One drink.”
“N-No. I r-really have to go.” Tyler opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted.
“He fucking said no, Roberts. Back the fuck off,” Connor growled and Evan breathed a sigh of relief, taking another step away from Tyler, bringing him alongside his friend. Twice in one night—this was becoming a habit, but Evan really couldn’t find it in him to complain right now.
“Connor! Long time, no see, my man.”
“Not long enough, you prick. Up to your old tricks, I see.”
Tyler’s eyes flashed in warning, but Connor snatched the cup he’d extended to Evan. Holding Tyler’s gaze, Connor dipped his painted thumbnail in the punch. Evan watched in fascination as the dark color transformed into a pale green. Connor noticed the change, too, his jaw clenching as he tossed the liquid across the manicured lawn.
“Motherfucker. Still can’t get off without knocking people out, you sick fuck?” Connor’s hand fell on Evan’s shoulder and dragged him behind him, acting as a human shield between the pair. “Your daddy’s lawyers kept you from serious jail time last time, which is too bad, I’d pay to hear how prison treats its newest rapist.”
“No one will believe you. You’re a druggie and, therefore, unreliable.”
Connor’s smirk was jagged and dangerous, and Evan was never so grateful to see it. He was a walking weapon, a switchblade that only made its presence known when absolutely necessary, but when he did, he always drew blood.
“Stoner. Get it right, Roberts. I’ve never been into hard shit like you, and I’m not the one resorting to date rape. I may be many things, but I will never be you. My dad didn’t love me either growing up, but I don’t take away people’s ability to consent. I’m not a monster, but you sure as fuck are.” Connor stepped closer to Tyler, aware of the eavesdroppers already spreading the gossip, and spoke louder.
“Remember last summer? How was your vacation in Marseille? That's what they’re calling a stint in juvie now, right? Cuz I gotta say your French did not improve. Sexual assault, am I right? Though they let you out early for ‘good behavior,’ I see. I heard through the elitist grapevine that daddy dearest had your record sealed so no one would know you were caught fondling an unconscious girl at your mommy’s end-of-year gala!” He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, nearly eye to eye with Tyler, who was casting furtive glances at the growing audience.
“Did you forget I was there, Roberts? Did you forget I was the one that found you, pants around your ankles, rubbing one out over her while she was passed out? Did you fucking forget I was the one who knocked your ass out?”
Gasps and whispers erupted around them and Connor’s lip curled into a sneer, fists balled at his sides.
“You weren’t conscious when your daddy tried to buy my silence, you slimy bastard. He thought a check would make me look the other way, just like the system probably took the blank one he offered and let you go home a year too soon. But surprise! I have a conscience. Your parents have known for years what a disgusting piece of shit you are and they’ve covered for you, time and time again. But you’re eighteen now, bro. If you get caught again it won’t be juvie, it will be hard time. In prison. With a lot of dudes who need a new bitch. And I’ll gladly testify against you in court again to ensure they get it. If I were you, I’d leave right now and finish your senior year somewhere the fuck else or I’ll go straight to the cops with my credible witnesses to back up my statement.” Connor waved a lazy hand to the others, smiling slightly to see a few fervent head nods.
“You wouldn’t dare. You’ve got nothing, Murphy. You're nothing, but a —” Connor’s fist halted Tyler’s tirade. He cried out in surprise, staggering backward, hissing as he attempted to stem the flow of scarlet streaming across his cheek. A gift from one of Connor’s rings. It filled Evan with a strange sense of satisfaction.
“I have plenty to bury you,” Connor affirmed. “I know if they searched your house, the loose floorboard under your bed or the bathroom in the basement maybe, they’d find your stash of opiates. Unprescribed, of course. I know who to call to get the name of your dealer, even if you dump all the evidence. He’ll sing like a goddamn canary to secure a plea deal, Roberts.” Tyler wilted slightly, unable to meet the raw fury in Connor’s eyes. “Never bullshit an attorney’s son. You’ll lose every time. Now get the fuck out and leave town. I don’t make idle threats, as you well know.”
Tyler shouldered past him, striding through the parting crowd of onlookers with eyes downcast, reputation torn to shreds in an instant. Connor did that for him. Fuck, no one had ever stood up for him like that. Yes, he’d also been looking out for others at the party, though few people would ever believe Connor capable of such chivalry. But Evan knew he wouldn’t have confronted Tyler so openly if he hadn’t targeted him specifically. The idea made him dizzy. Who knew Connor Murphy had a savior complex or that Evan would be so fucking weak for it?
“Holy shit,” Evan murmured. Connor whirled around, the tight set of his jaw relaxing slightly at the sight of Evan unharmed. The fire in his gaze simmered to coals—soft and warm, still radiating heat, but it was comforting, no longer an uncontrolled blaze. Gently, he pulled Evan away from the stunned partygoers.
“Hey, are you okay?” Connor asked quietly, tucked in a corner of the deck. Evan nodded and Connor blew out a shaky breath. “You didn’t drink any of that, did you?” He shook his head vehemently. “Thank God,” Connor rasped.
Wringing his hands together, Evan finally found his voice. “I knew something was wrong, you know? It felt… off. The whole time Tyler tried to talk to me. And I remembered what you told me about the punch and drinking things you didn’t open yourself. Thank you for that, Connor, or I might have done something really stupid.”
“You’re welcome. Jesus, just thinking about it… fuck.” He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “I’d kill him or anyone who laid a hand on you.”
“You’re a great friend, Connor. I know you didn’t think you would be, but no one has ever defended me before. Definitely not like that, and you annihilated him with words alone. I mean, yeah, you punched him, but only because he wouldn’t shut up and he deserved it, anyway.”
Connor huffed what might have been a laugh. “Yeah, rapists usually do,” he replied, his velvety voice strained. Connor flashed him a quick grin as he tucked his hair behind his left ear, revealing an array of cartilage piercings. The metal glinted in the light and it struck Evan how attractive he was. Last year he’d had a passing crush on Zoe Murphy and it was apparent now the siblings shared many physical traits: cheekbones capable of cutting glass, a perfect jawline, flawless skin reminiscent of polished marble, waves of luscious ebony. But it was Connor’s eyes that were truly breathtaking. Unfathomably blue with an island of brown in the right one. Goddamn it, he wanted to drown in them.
Evan knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. Warmth pooled in his chest the longer he studied him. He drank in every facet of his stupidly symmetrical face as he wrestled with this new development. Connor was undeniably gorgeous, but did that mean he liked boys or just Connor? Did it matter?
Answer: No. Not when he was staring right back like he could see his soul. Not after his showdown with Tyler.
Shit, he couldn’t like his only friend. That was the quickest way to end their very new friendship. But now that he was conscious of Connor’s handsome features and glimpsed his real self under the “I don’t give a fuck” persona, Evan was captivated. He wanted to know everything about him, from his favorite color to whatever food the latest BuzzFeed quiz ascribed to his astrological sign. He trembled violently when his brain registered how much he wanted to kiss him. Yeah, liking his friend was a bad (read: absolutely terrible) idea, yet here he was anyway. Damn his out-of-control crushes and teenage hormones.
Connor’s lips tugged into a frown, and his brow furrowed in concern. Slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and Evan gasped audibly at the shock of Connor’s cool skin against his overheated flesh. Connor’s eyes widened at his reaction and jerked his hand back, but in a fit of daring, Evan snagged his wrist in a loose grip. It was Connor’s turn to gasp when Evan’s thumb circled his knuckles reassuringly. In the back of his mind, Evan cataloged the delicate bone structure—another unexpected piece of the puzzle that was Connor Murphy. Bird-like, yet powerful, not at all frail. A raptor, a predator, elegant and striking and deadly.
“I’m not afraid of you, Connor,” Evan murmured. Connor’s eyes were impossibly wide now, his mouth slack in astonishment. “It startled me, but I don’t mind if you touch me.” Flushing deeply, he swallowed hard and rushed to speak before he lost his nerve. “I really like it, actually.”
Connor’s fingers twitched with his pronouncement. “You… like it when I touch you?” Evan nodded, cheeks flaming, and dropped his gaze. “Hey, no,” Connor whispered, tilting his chin up with his free hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, Evan,” he breathed and Evan shivered to hear his name roll off his tongue, caressed by his ridiculously beautiful mouth like it was something precious.
Was it possible to die just hearing your name with such flawless inflection? Breathy and low. Now permanently etched in his auditory processing center and oh my God, he wanted to hear it that way forever.
“I… shit, okay. Can I be real with you?” Connor asked, nibbling his lip anxiously. Evan nodded again, his vocal cords frozen. “I… fuck,” he sighed. “This is the least appropriate time to tell you this, but I’m just gonna say it or I probably never will. I’ve had a crush on you for, like, two years,” he blurted with a furious blush.
“What?” Evan croaked, helpless against the hope surging in his chest.
Laughing nervously, Connor threaded their fingers together and squeezed lightly. “Yeah. I mean, why wouldn’t I?” Evan frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Connor spoke first. “You’re so fucking smart. You’re in all AP classes, and intelligence is a massive turn-on for me. You have the best smile and your laugh, oh my God! You’re endlessly kind and witty and so fucking cute. I know you have anxiety, but dude, so do I.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, on top of a host of other issues.” Raking his hand through his hair, Connor shrugged and tossed him a sad smile. “It’s why I never said anything. I mean, I’m the psychopath, the next school shooter, and you’re Evan Hansen: ultimate class sweetheart. I’m not worthy of having that. I’ll only ruin you.”
Evan frowned and forced himself to maintain eye contact. “Connor, I don’t believe any of those things about you. I never have. Rumors are just that. I’ve shared nearly every class with you since kindergarten. You’re brilliant and I watched you do something incredibly heroic tonight. I’m really not what you think I am—I’m a literal mess. If anything, I’m the one likely to screw things up, but I think I should get a say in what or who I want.”
“You don’t want me,” Connor whispered, a hint of desperation creeping in his voice. “I’m a suicidal basket-case.”
“And I’m not?” Evan countered.
Connor stilled, examining his face for any hint of a lie. Before he could elaborate, he smothered him in a fierce hug, Connor’s face diving into his hair. Holy shit, he didn’t even reach Connor’s chin and there was something so safe about that. Enveloped on all sides by Connor—it felt like coming home.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Connor muttered in his dirty blonde strands. “I always wanted to be you. To see the world through your eyes, to find something to be passionate about. You always seemed so fucking pulled together. If I’d known… I’m so sorry, Evan. I would have been there for you, if I knew.”
Evan’s throat tightened, and he attempted to blink away the sting of tears, which freed them instead, wetting Connor’s t-shirt. “Just be here now,” he choked out after a moment of silence.
“Yes, I will, I promise. As long as you want me,” Connor swore tremulously.
“I’m here for you, too, Connor. You’re not alone anymore. Neither of us are.” The arms holding him tightened, and he felt tears run along his scalp. They held each other for an indeterminate amount of time, trembling after their emotional confessions in the shadows.
“I’m sorry this whole party experience has been shitty for you, but I’m selfishly glad you came tonight,” Connor whispered. Hot breath rushed past his ear, sending jolts of electricity down his spine, and he barely suppressed his shiver.
Evan squeezed in response, hiding his smile in Connor’s chest, breathing in his musky cologne and the faint whiff of fabric softener. “Me, too,” he murmured, content to just exist in the moment.
“Oh, geez,” he popped his head up in sudden revelation, “I totally forgot about your sister. Is she okay?” Connor smiled down at him, toothy and genuine, which caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners. It was blindingly beautiful and Evan’s mouth dried instantly.
“Yeah, Alana Beck took her to her house, and I sent our mom a message on her phone explaining she’s staying the night so she won’t get in trouble.”
“That’s good.” Glancing at his hand, Evan asked, “How are you?”
Shrugging, Connor flexed his right hand. “It will probably bruise, but nothing’s broken. It doesn’t matter. I’d do it again. Bastard deserved it, but he really had it coming because he chose to hurt you.”
Rubbing his thumb across the heavy skull ring on Connor’s middle finger, Evan brushed off the residual flecks of blood trapped in the eye socket. “But you prevented him from hurting me or anyone else. You have no clue how amazing you are, do you?” Connor flushed at the praise while Evan chuckled quietly. “Thank you again. For everything,” he said, cheeks stained a pretty pink.
“You’re welcome,” Connor whispered, his face and neck impossibly red.
Realizing they were still hugging, Evan’s flush deepened, but he didn’t pull away even as he spoke. “I should probably find Jared so I can head home, though. It’s late.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s find Jared together to tell him you’re leaving and I’m taking you home.” Connor rolled his eyes at Evan’s smirk. “Humor me, alright? After Roberts, I just… need to be sure you’re okay.”
Evan ducked his head under Connor’s shoulder to smother his pleased grin. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”
Separating reluctantly, Connor extended an unsteady hand—a silent question tangled in such a public declaration. It took Evan a nanosecond to answer it, curling his palm against the offering, slotting his fingers in the only place they ever felt they belonged.
“Let’s find Kleinman,” Connor quipped, but Evan noted the tension in his lean frame, coiled like a spring. Evan swallowed hard and hoped Jared could refrain from being too much of an asshole.
Their arrival in the house caused a sensation, rippling through the mass of drunk teens, but no one approached them, warned off by Connor’s intense glare. Weary of traipsing through the too-full house without any luck, Connor stormed into the living room and switched off the music. A fraught silence descended as he faced the crowd, pulling Evan in front of him and wrapping a protective arm around his chest.
“I’m looking for Kleinman,” he barked. “Anyone seen him? I won't search the house all fucking night. The sooner I talk to him, the sooner the music comes back on and I leave.”
Phones appeared as if by magic, and through a series of Instagram and Snapchat stories, Jared was found roaring drunk in the garage. Connor rolled his eyes when the boy stumbled into the room. Tossing Evan a look that clearly said, Are you fucking kidding me?, he switched the music back on and roughly grabbed Jared’s shirt, dragging his barely coherent self out the front door.
“Right, well, he can’t drive,” Connor stated flatly as he plopped Jared on the curb.
Evan shook his head. “Definitely not. Uber?”
Connor smirked. “Serves the dick right. I would take him home, but I don’t want to risk my leather seats.” Evan quirked an eyebrow in agreement as Connor pulled up the app and secured a ride for Jared.
Clearing his throat softly, Connor passed his phone to Evan, the cursor blinking at him from the blank contact screen. Biting his lip to contain his excited grin, Evan quickly put in his number and sent a text to himself. Connor blushed when Evan’s phone pinged in his pocket.
“Shoot me Kleinman’s info, too. I’m sending him pictures of this as proof, so he can’t call me a liar later and telling him he owes me for this show of compassion.” Chuckling under his breath, Evan did as requested, smirking when Jared’s phone lit up with notifications from Connor.
Once Jared was safely packed in the Uber with Connor’s promise of a hefty tip to the driver if he guaranteed the boy arrived home in under twenty minutes, the pair walked the half block to Connor’s car. It was a luxury model with buttery leather seats in charcoal gray. As they buckled up, Evan tapped the gear shift inquisitively.
“A manual?”
Connor grinned broadly as he started the car, the engine coming to life with a purr. “I got used to driving standard during our summer trips to Europe. The anticipation of shifting gears keeps me focused. Plus, less likely to be stolen in the States since most people can’t drive standard.”
“True,” Evan mused. As if Connor wasn’t attractive enough, Evan now knew he was fluent in French and drove a stick shift. It didn’t matter if he was gay or bi or whatever, it was clear he was one thousand percent gay for Connor Murphy.
As they pulled away from the curb, Connor broke the silence. “I could teach you if you want.”
Evan ducked his head shyly. “I don’t drive at all. Too anxious. Every time I try, I have a panic attack.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Connor said, “I get that, but the offer stands. We’ll start with automatic first if you ever decide you want to try again. No pressure, though. I’m happy to drive you.”
“You don’t have to —”
“Evan,” Connor interrupted with a gentle smile. “I want to. Really, I don’t mind.”
Blushing at Connor’s endless patience, Evan bobbed his head. “Okay. Thank you, Connor.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied as he downshifted. Clearing his throat, Connor murmured, “You don’t stutter with me now. Why is that?”
“Oh, I don’t usually once I’m comfortable with someone. I only stutter when I’m nervous or upset,” Evan explained. “Though, I’ve never been this relaxed with someone so quickly before.”
Connor looked at him. The glow of the stop light bathed him in rogue, highlighting the tips of his dark hair, softening his angular features in shimmery rose. He was positively ethereal and Evan couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Fuck, he was so screwed.
“You’re really not afraid of me, are you?” Connor asked in amazement. The light turned green, forcing them to break their stare. As the car eased through the quiet side streets of his neighborhood, Evan threaded their hands together over the gearshift. Connor whipped his head to him and hastily pulled over.
“No, Connor, I’m not afraid of you. You make me feel safe, actually,” Evan said.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Connor’s mouth opened and closed, rendered utterly speechless. A pang of indescribable sadness burrowed in Evan’s chest. Had no one ever given him a chance? Was there no one in his life who accepted Connor as he was, imperfections and all, and still saw the good in him?
“Yes,” Evan stated emphatically. “I was looking for you when Tyler first approached me, but I knew you were taking care of Zoe like a big brother should. But the minute you arrived I felt like I could finally breathe and you put yourself between us, like some kind of... fierce avenging angel. You helped me through a panic attack and gave me important advice to keep me safe from people just like Tyler. You protected me before we were officially anything. You’re a good person, Connor. Your past mistakes and your anger issues do not define you. There is so much more to you than that, and I want to know everything about you.”
Silent tears rolled down Connor’s cheeks and Evan couldn’t hold back anymore. Leaning across the console, he brushed his lips feather-light along his sharp jaw. Connor’s breath hitched, and he turned his head enough to catch Evan’s lips with his own.
It was soft and tentative as they rode out the moment of vulnerability without words. When Evan pulled back, he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against Connor’s while thumbing away his half-dried tears.
“‘Avenging angel,’ huh?” Connor whispered, uncertainty tinging his question.
A small laugh, more air than sound, escaped Evan as his cheeks burned. “That’s how I saw it, anyway. I really like you, Connor,” he breathed reverently. “I want to see where this goes, if you do. Neither of us are perfect or ever will be, but I think you could be perfect for me.”
Connor pressed a more substantial kiss to his eager mouth, murmuring between shaky breaths. “I’ve waited literal years to hear you say something like that to me, Evan. Yes, I want this. And for the record, you’ll always be perfect to me, no matter what you say.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Evan pleaded as his fingers tangled in sable waves. Connor happily obliged.