Dear Evan Hansen,

I have one very important thing to say: Don't tell anyone about today, and don't talk to me at school. The last thing I want is to be seen together. People will ask questions. You're the anxious kid, and I'm the crazy one. We're too different. So whatever you do, don't approach me in school. Even so, I had such a good time at the orchard. I hadn't been there in seven years, not since it closed down. Maybe more than that, since I used to skip out on the picnics my parents tried to throw. Going there with you felt… Different, somehow. Better than being with my shitty parents who would always judge me for one thing or another. For once, I actually had fun. I'd like to do it again sometime. Then I can escape the judgement and all of my troubles. Being with you makes it all go away.

Sincerely,

Me

That e-mail was the fourth Connor had sent me. The first was when he told me about he had been watching me in school, while I pushed around the gross mushy corn that the cafeteria called a vegetable. He told me that he would never come to me in person to say it, but he felt bad for me. Of course, I thought, "Connor? The crazy kid who's always high in class? No way. How did he even get my email?" But something inside of me felt… Sympathy. He wasn't typing like he was insane. His message almost felt sad, with the way he worded it. So I asked him if he'd like to hang out. He immediately emailed back, saying to meet him at the orchard that closed seven years ago. No one went there, ever. It was private. "Great," I thought. "He probably wants to smoke crack with someone else instead of by himself this time." But that sympathetic feeling stayed with me. I asked when, and he never responded. Great.

It was morning when I got the next email, saying to meet him immediately. Nine in the morning? I had just woken up. It was a Saturday, and I liked to sleep in. The fact that my phone buzzed with an email was the only reason I was awake, as well. I didn't feel like going anywhere, not yet. But I couldn't just leave him hanging. He might overdose or something. Why was I worrying, though? He would always bump into me while passing in the hallway. Sometimes it would knock me over. A rough bump of his arm into mine. Now that I think about it, what did this guy ever do to deserve me meeting him? But once that thought occurred, I was on the bus, on my way to the orchard. Mom had given me bus fare to and from the stop closest to the orchard, right outside that ice cream place. A la Mode, I think it was called? It didn't really matter, though. I was already halfway there, and I wasn't going to waste the money mom gave to me for the day. She was working again, so I would be alone, too. So, I was just going to go.

"You're here." He said. His hair didn't look "school shooter-esque" like it usually did. He had straightened it and put it in a bun. His clothes were the same as ever, though.
"What are you looking at? You're being creepy, Evan."

Oh. I was staring at his hair. It looked nice. Different, but nice. Not curly like it usually did. I liked it. It made him look friendlier.
"Earth to Evan Hansen. Wake the fuck up. Are we going to go inside, or what?"
"What? Oh, yeah, s-sure, Connor." And there was the anxiety, creeping up behind me and sticking to me. It was like a shadow, always there, but this time it was worse. I mean, Connor was a psychopath. What was I doing here? This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. I had packed some Klonopin, a new medicine for in the moment anxiety, but if Connor saw, he'd want some. I can't just take it randomly.

"Evan. Fucking. Hansen. Are you coming?"
"Right!" I yelled, snapping out the prison cell my brain was and running up to follow Connor. I caught a smell, all of a sudden. I couldn't exactly pin what it was, though. Almost like… Cheap cologne? Yeah, that's what it was. Cologne from the grocery store nearby. The cheap one that always smelled like cat pee. It was a wonder it wasn't closed yet. And, caught in my thoughts once again, I rammed right into Connor. He had stopped, and I hadn't.

"Jesus Christ, Evan. Are you ever going to pay attention? Fuck it. Here, sit down and get comfortable. I snagged some beers from my parent's usually locked fridge. They're pretty stupid, and don't know that I figured out where the key is hidden."
"I, uh, I don't drink. It interferes with my medication. I could die."

"Then don't drink. More for me."

"Uh… Okay."

And so we sat. And the sky looked like it could go on for forever, and that, unfortunately, was what the time we spent together felt like. I was dying to leave. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave him suddenly. He'd make my life hell. My own little prison cell, in my mind, bringing up all the bad things that would happen if I left. So I stayed, and stayed, and stayed. Two beers and an eternity later, Connor looked up at me, and asked,

"Do you want to go get ice cream? It sounds stupid, but if you eat it from a bowl then you don't look like a faggot."

"I didn't… I didn't bring any money." I replied, looking at him. Somehow, he looked… So much calmer than in school. Maybe he really liked being in the orchard, or maybe he was just drunk. God, I hoped I wouldn't have to drag him home on the bus. Were two beers enough to get you drunk? I wish I knew.

"I'll pay. My mom always has too much money in her purse for her own good. I snagged a hundred bucks the other day. She never even noticed."
Oh. Great. He stole money from his mom. That's… wonderful. I'm hanging out with a thief, who probably thinks I'm his friend, even though I'm not, and now my palms are sweating, and he's standing up and walking towards the orchard exit. Perfect. Just how I wanted my day to go.

"You look like you're about to be hit by a car. C'mon, Evan. I want to go get ice cream. And don't tell anyone about it."

My only choice was to go, so I got up and followed. Down a winding path, up a hill, down a hill, and over the latched gate. A hundred feet more and we were staring at an empty road, and a sun that on its way down. How had time passed so quickly? What had we even talked about all that time? His sister being a bitch, his parents being assholes, everyone at school being pieces of shit, the people at the store staring him funny, his dealer cutting him a deal on his crack, my weird laughter when he actually made a funny joke, the dirt that I had managed to get on my cheek, the fact that he actually was able to smile now, how my smile looked nice and I should show it off more at school. Then maybe I would make more friends.

More friends? I had none, besides the family friend Jared who only hung out with me so he would look good in front of his parents. Jared would barely be seen with me, anyway. Did Connor actually consider me a friend? Why me? Oh, god, why me?

"Evan, let's go. You're spacing out, again. It's getting really fucking annoying."
"S-sorry!" I yelled, looking both ways. Then I checked again, and again, then finally ran across the empty street that was void of all cars since before we arrived earlier that day. The ice cream parlour was not too far away, in fact only about five hundred feet down the road. A little strip mall, devoid of cars and people. No one was getting ice cream at seven at night in the middle of nowhere. Everyone was eating dinner, or relaxing in front of the TV. No one would bother to come all the way out here to eat ice cream.

"Jesus Christ, Evan Hansen. You're the spaciest person I've ever met." Connor groaned, then grabbed my hand and began to drag me down the sidewalk. I stumbled all the way, since his legs were much longer and he took much bigger strides, and in the end we were inside a surprisingly nice little shop that smelled oddly of bread.

"Welcome to A la Mode! What can I get the nice couple?"
Couple? Couple? What the hell? I'm not gay, at all, never have been, never will be. Connor suddenly realized and lifted his arm, my hand with it, before throwing my hand down back to my side.
"Yeah, we're not gay, so if you could shut up and get us ice cream, that'd be great."
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry. What will you two be having?"
"What do you like, Evan?"
"Huh? I like, um… Chocolate vanilla twist soft serve the best."
"We'll have one bowl of that, then."
"Are we sharing?"
"Why wouldn't we be? They have big portions here."
I could feel the woman behind the counter staring. Only feel, since the moment Connor finished speaking I was staring down at the floor. The woman silently filled a cup with a gigantic serving of ice cream, placed it on the counter, slid it over, and told us our total. What it was, I don't remember. All I know is it was shockingly expensive, and I was silently praying Connor wouldn't yell again.

"Thanks." He said to the woman after placing a ten dollar bill on the counter. At that point, I looked up again, and the rather pale woman was handing Connor his meager change with a shaky hand. Why was she so scared? Oh, god. Connor was glaring at her. He always had a stare that was full of hate. He gave it to everyone in school. This woman was getting it, full force.

"Th-thank you, have a nice day." She stuttered, then ran into the back room.

"Couple? Was she serious? I'm not fucking gay. I doubt you are, since I've seen the way you look at my sister at school."

Oh, god. He noticed. He noticed how I looked at Chloe-er, Zoe. This was not good.
"Wh-what do you mean?" I asked, wiping my hands on my pants. "I don't look at anyone, for too long anyway. Not at school."

"I'm not stupid, Evan. Despite what everyone thinks, I'm actually the brains of the family. How else would I be passing every grade without showing up to class most of the time?"
He had a very good point there.

"I can't answer that… Um, can we sit?"

"There's tables right there. Sit wherever."
"Thank you." I whispered, pulling out a chair slowly with an obnoxious squeak and placing the ice cream down on a table that still had crumbs from someone's cone. We had one spoon already, given to us by the terrified woman, and Connor wasn't going for a second. Since he had forgotten, I headed for the counter, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Let's share one spoon. It's pointless to use two."
"But, uh…"
"I'm not sick, and you're not sick. We can share a spoon."

Well, that was… disgusting. I mean, two guys, who aren't friends (at least in my mind) sharing a spoon? No wonder the woman thought we were gay.

"Sit." He commanded, and I quickly obeyed, sitting down on the tall bar stool. I stared at the ice cream, and then down at my lap. Connor silently ate a large amount of the ice cream, and boy could I feel him staring at me.

"You're too quiet. It's like you're dead. Say something."
"Oh, uh, I don't really have much to say. I'm tired, you know?"

"Uh huh… Seriously, I can't eat all of this by myself. Eat."

"No, I'm okay. Really."
"Eat."

And then I felt something cold poking me in the cheek. He was so adamant about getting me to eat it that he was shoving a heaping spoonful of two flavours of ice cream straight into my face, and not the place it was supposed to go.
"Open."
"Fine!" I said, wiping my hands and reaching out for the spoon. Before I could even grab it, I opened my mouth to apologize for yelling, and I was met with the entire portion of ice cream that was originally on the spoon in my mouth.

"Swallow it." Connor commanded. Oh, no. He was getting angry. I could feel my palms soaking themselves from my anxiety. But I swirled it around in my mouth, letting some of it melt, and then swallowed.

"You're a mess. It's all over your face." He commented, reaching out. What was he doing? What was he even doing? Why was his hand on my face? Why was he wiping the ice cream off my face? Why was he licking it off his finger?

Oh. My. God.