Chapter 1: I'm Flying Blind

Evan's greatest skill, besides being anxious and saying stupid things, is doing just the wrong thing at just the wrong time. So he really shouldn't be surprised that he manages to make Connor Murphy mad at him on his first day of senior year.

Not that it's totally his fault. It's Jared who decides to compare Connor to a school shooter and laugh about it. Evan tries, uselessly, to get Jared to stop because Connor has this look like he's balancing on a razor's edge of calm. But all his quiet stuttering does no good.

"I was just… kidding, it's a joke…?" Jared's talking like he thinks Connor is an idiot.

"Yeah no, it was funny." Connor's voice tips from cool disinterest to something harsh and bordering on dangerous as he takes a step towards them. So much for balancing. "Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

The situation is too tense and Evan doesn't know what to do, but at least Jared seems to have caught onto the fact that he should shut up. He's scared now, Evan can tell.

"You're such a freak," Jared says, trying to laugh, before turning and hurrying off. Evan hesitates just a second too long. Long enough for Connor to pin him with those angry blue eyes, and Evan tries to laugh, like, "I don't know what's wrong with him, he's weird, right?" Connor doesn't take it that way.

"What the fuck are you laughing at? Stop fucking laughing at me!" Connor looks so fierce that Evan almost runs when he starts striding towards him.

"No, no I was- I'm not- I just-"

"You think I'm a freak?" Connor shouts. "I'm not a freak, you're the fucking freak!" He's almost at a run when he shoves Evan hard out of his way and disappears down the hall.

Evan's not sure when he hits the floor. He just knows it hurts, and he feels for a moment as though he should just stay there forever. But they're all looking at him, he can tell, so scrambles to his feet and straightens his shirt.

"Hey, I'm sorry about my brother – I saw him push you. He's a psychopath. Evan, right?" For a moment, Evan can't register that it's beautiful Zoe Murphy talking to him. The people around them are whispering, although, for once, he thinks, not about him. About the boy who just strode off down the hall looking every inch the violent psychopath she says he is.

He parrots his name back at her like a dumbass. "Evan."

They talk, and Evan manages to hyperventilate, ramble, and screw up royally before calling out, too late, as she's already leaving, "You wanna sign my cast?"

"What did you say?" she looks at him, a little bemused, but not unkind. Still, it's too much.

"Uh, I didn't, uh- What did you say?"

No one signs his cast for the rest of the day. Mostly because he doesn't ask because he decides it sounds stupid to try to make friends like that. Everyone will just think he's desperate (he is) and probably laugh at him. Still, the blank white of his cast is starting to look like failure. Like the fact that he has no friends and his mom is wrong, this year won't be different, because he's just pathetic with or without a conversation starter.

At the end of the day, when his mom tells him she can't pick him up from therapy after all, he goes to the computer lab to try to type up a new letter to himself and print it before going. He ignores the miserable pull in his gut and the disappointment he feels and the fact that his whole day was terrible and tries to write something positive.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is going to be

He can't write the next word. He fidgets, looks around the room. No one else is around to judge his typing or lack thereof, no one to accidentally see how pathetic he is that he has to write letters to himself.

He tries again.

Today will be ama-

No good. He tries to type "today will be a good day," but he can't make himself do that either. So he stabs the backspace key and starts over.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Turns out I was wrong. Today isn't going to be a good day, or a good week, or even a good year, because why would it be?

That feels better, or at least more honest. This isn't exactly what he was supposed to do with these letters, but he doesn't want to write some peppy confident bullcrap, because it wouldn't be true and he doesn't think it would help.

Oh, I know, I know, because there's Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don't even know and who doesn't know me, but… Maybe if I did, maybe I could just talk to her, then maybe… Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different. I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean, face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?

Sincerely,

Your best and most dearest friend, me.

Evan sighs and hits print. What a disaster. Why he's even printing it he doesn't know – he's supposed to try to be honest with his therapist, but he doesn't really want to be this honest? He has the letter though, anyway, in case he changes his mind or can't come up with anything else.

"So," someone says, and Evan turns around and it's Connor. He freezes, which is weird and kind of rude but he's sure Connor's going to beat him up for laughing at him earlier or yell at him or- or oh hell, read his letter. Connor is holding his letter. Oh shit. Oh no. It talks about Zoe. Connor really will kill him if he sees what's in it. Evan realizes that Connor is still talking.

"Um, what happened to your arm?" Connor sounds awkward, and he points like Evan doesn't know what he's talking about. He looks angry, but he doesn't sound angry, so Evan stammers out an answer.

"I, um, I fell out a tree, actually," he says, fiddling with his cast. "I fell out of a tree." It's a dumb story, sounds dumber every time he hears himself say it.

Connor evidently agrees. "That is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard, oh my god," he says, laughing shortly on the last phrase like he's trying not to sound mean. Which he doesn't actually – not like Jared.

"I know." Evan looks away. He kind of wants to leave because he doesn't know how to talk to Connor Murphy and Connor does scare him a little – he's intense, and swears a lot, and he's still holding Evan's letter.

Connor takes a half step forward, pointing again. "Um, no one's, uh, signed your cast."

Evan flinches. Yeah, it's embarrassingly obvious. "No, I know."

"Well, I'll sign it." Connor says it really fast, leaning forward a little, like he actually wants Evan to say yes.

Evan thinks this is some kind of cruel trick. Connor's gonna write or draw something awful on his cast and shove him again and then read the letter and kill him and Evan says "Oh, you, you don't have to-"

Connor shrugs, shakes his head, gestures again. He gestures a lot. "Do you, uh, do you have a Sharpie?" He doesn't look as angry now, just brusque and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to do this, Evan realizes. That doesn't make it any less weird, but it does make him feel a little better.

Evan digs in his pocket and pulls out his Sharpie, which is weirdly warm from being in his pocket, and edges towards Connor holding out the Sharpie stiffly like he expects Connor to bite him. He kind of does, actually. He almost doesn't want Connor to take the marker because it's definitely gross and do people normally carry Sharpies in their pockets and really he doesn't know if he wants to tell his mom that the only person to sign his cast is a drug addict and universally disliked by the whole school. Not that Connor is all bad, maybe, but his mom would worry.

Connor takes the Sharpie and, with a swift, determined movement, grabs his arm and pulls it towards him. Evan doesn't quite manage to silence a yelp of pain and Connor looks up. "Oh." He's gentler when he applies the marker to the cast, although Evan winces almost as much to see the giant letters Connor uses to spell his name.

"Oh, great, thanks!" he tries lamely. Although he's never felt the same way about Connor as the rest of the school seems to, he doesn't exactly want there to be one more reason for everyone to whisper as he goes by. He doesn't see how Connor is looking down as he messes with the sleeves of his hoodie, like he doesn't know what to do now.

"Yeah, well, now we can both pretend we have friends," Connor says with what Evan almost thinks is a wry, sympathetic expression. He looks about to say something, but then doesn't.

"Good- good point." Evan doesn't know what to do with this weird situation anymore and it's starting to freak him out that Connor hasn't done anything terrible (how screwed up is that) so he starts walking away, still staring at his cast. So he startles when Connor talks again, for a second almost too loud.

"Is this yours?" Evan whips around – Connor's gesturing at his letter. He'd almost forgotten. "Um, I found it on the printer, it's, it's a-" As he says it he glances down and points at it. "'Dear Evan Hansen,' that's your name, right?" and holds it out and actually smiles. It's an awkward smile like he's trying too hard, but it's a smile. It humanizes him.

"Oh yeah no, no, no, that's just a stupid- it's just this paper that-" Evan sees Connor's eyes lock onto the paper and in a horrible second he yanks the page back towards him, away from Evan, to read it. "-I have to write, so it's, it's for an assignment."

Connor isn't looking at him. Connor is reading his letter. "'Because there's Zoe'?" he says slowly. His voice doesn't change much, but that dangerous sound is back like a cat's claw coming out of its sheath. Then he looks at Evan and gestures with the page like he doesn't care, but he's angling closer and there's kind of a lost sound in the danger, too. "Uh, is this about my sister?"

"No, no!" Evan lunges for the paper but Connor pulls it out of reach with a smooth, almost lazy movement.

"No, you wrote this because you knew that I would find it." Connor's turned all the way towards him now, body still and tense, clutching his messenger bag, head down, paper held up high. Evan can see him coming to conclusions and that leads him to some conclusions of his own – Connor's going to lose it and attack him, which would honestly be fair but Evan needs to explain he wasn't being creepy, he needs his letter back, he needs Connor (the only person to sign his cast, alone like him, if scary) to know he didn't mean any harm.

All that comes out of his mouth, however, is "What?"

Connor is shifting from foot to foot, and he looks at the letter again. It sounds like he's fighting his way through something heavy. Like he's struggling. Evan is too, mostly because he kind of can't breathe. There's a roaring in his ears. "Yeah, you, uh… You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and you printed this out" –as he talks, he sounds angrier and surer with every word- "so that I would find it." He's laughing a bit now too, bitter and unamused. He bites off the ends of his words.

Evan starts to ask, "Why would I-?"

Connor leans forward, still laughing, but it isn't a good laugh. It isn't even razor-calm like he'd been with Jared. "So I would read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right?! And now you can tell everybody that I'm crazy!" He does look a little crazy, standing there, yelling, angry, but Evan thinks – in between abject terror and deep humiliation – he also looks lost and bitter.

"What?" That's all he can say.

"Right? Fuck you!" And Connor's running at him and Evan panics but Connor just runs past as he tries desperately to explain and then get his letter back because he can't let Connor just take that, he needs it for therapy, how could something go so wrong so fast?

And Connor's gone with his letter and he's alone with only the giant letters on his cast. Isn't that just typical? It's all he can do not to break down right there. Instead, numb, hardly thinking, he sits back down and writes a new letter. Something generic.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Today's going to be a good day because you talked to Zoe and she wasn't mean. Also you had a good lunch.

That's all he can come up with.

He spends the rest of the day terrified he'll see Connor again, or Zoe (because what if Connor told her what he did and she hates him and thinks he's creepy and then she doesn't talk to him again and his last chance is gone because he's accidentally made her the focus of all his hopes). But he doesn't – that is, until right before he leaves, as he's one his way to the theater door that gets him outside closest to his car. He's so focused on the ground that he doesn't really register the scuffed pair of black combat boots until someone grips his shoulder and halts his progress. "Watch it, Hansen."

Evan looks up, speaks, and moves all at once. "C-Connor! Sorry, I didn't- I'm not- I-" He realizes too late that he's still blocking Connor from going through the doorway.

"What's your problem?" Connor snarls. "Haven't had enough fun with me today, wanna see if you can get me to really lose it?"

Evan shakes his head frantically. "No. No, I didn't, um, I wasn't- I wasn't trying to make you, uh, lose it in the first place."

Connor stares at him like he's something disgusting. "You're hilarious," he says, and he still sounds dangerous. Evan should move. He should get out of the way and let Connor leave. But something in him wants Connor to understand because for just a minute, it seemed like he might know how Evan felt.

That was probably just his imagination.

"I wasn't- didn't laugh at you," Evan blurts, looking down at his hands, which have twisted together despite the way it makes his arm twinge a little.

There's silence from Connor, and he isn't moving. Evan fills the silence with a torrent of words. "I mean, I did laugh, but not at you, I was trying to laugh at, at Jared but I just- I laugh when I'm nervous and you're scary, so I- I mean, shit, I don't mean it like that I mean like, you have- you always- you just get angry and then- but I mean you aren't a psychopath? Or a school shooter? I don't think. I mean-"

"Holy shit, Hansen," Connor growls, and Evan looks up. The other boy definitely isn't smiling, but he's looking less angry. "Stop talking, you're making me nauseous."

Evan doesn't know how to respond to that.

"You're a creep," Connor says shortly. "Stay away from my sister." Then he pulls a creased piece of folded paper out of his jean pocket and holds it out. "You need that, right?"

Evan nods. "Yeah, I... Yeah. Thanks."

Connor looks at him for a second, then scowls and gestures impatiently. "Are you gonna get out of my way or do I need to shove you again?"

"Oh." Evan darts out of the doorway and watches Connor's lanky figure disappear down the hall. He's not sure what just happened, but he thinks maybe Connor doesn't hate him anymore.

A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first ever DEH fanfic. If it keeps going, it's going to switch between Connor and Evan's POVs every other chapter.

This is my first time trying to write anxiety or drug addiction, so if you would be gentle with me and give me advice, that would be good.

This will not be an Evan/Connor fic - my personal headcanon is that Connor is ace, actually - the only pairing I'm going to do is Zoe/Evan because they're adorable.

Also, I don't like swearing and can't stand the F word, which is a problem since Connor swears a lot in canon. You're just going to have to add in your own swear words in your head if he isn't swearing enough for you.

Anyway, enjoy!