Zoe gently turned the peg on the guitar and plucked the string again, keeping her eyes closed. Sharp, she thought to herself, then looked at the tuner. The little arrow pointed dead-center on the dial, meaning the string was in tune. Damnit, she thought, unclipping the tuner from the head of her guitar and dropping it back into the pocket on the outside of the case. Her ear was terrible for recognizing pitch, but she didn't let it stop her from trying.

She opened her sheet music folder and perused through the pages stuffed inside. She could do work for jazz band, or… she flipped behind the sheaf of arrangements on the left side of the folder and pulled out a bundle all paperclipped together. It was the songs she kept secret, that she only practiced when she was home alone or in a practice room here after everybody else had left for the day and before the adult choir showed up to practice. Like right now.

She pulled the paperclip off and sifted through the papers. Lots of Beatles, a little bit of Radiohead, then some more indulgent treats, like some Arctic Monkeys and even a Taylor Swift tab or two. This felt more personal than just jazz. This was the kind of thing Connor would ruin for her.

She pulled Creep by Radiohead out and laid the pages out all next to each other so she could see them. The mournful song seemed appropriate for right now. She tried to not think about it much, because if she did it just made her mad, and she didn't like being mad. So instead she plucked away, trying to get the transitions between notes smooth and seamless. She had been practicing for only a few minutes when her phone started buzzing in her backpack. She knew who it was before looking, and took her time rifling around her bag to find it. The desire to just let it go to voicemail was strong, but she fought the urge and pressed the green button on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Zoe? Are you almost here?" Her mother's voice was expectant on the other side of the phone. "The doctor wants to go over Connor's treatment plan with us, and he's about to go home soon and we both have to be there, and your dad just got here from work and assumed you would already be here. I thought you would too. Where are you?" In typical Cynthia fashion, she didn't even let Zoe answer her question before asking another.

"I was just practicing and I got carried away. Can't a nurse stay with him? I have a lot of homework and I'm in the middle of this really difficult piece right now…" her voice trailed off as she eyed the Radiohead tab longingly. She hadn't been able to work on it for weeks, with Connor home from rehab and terrorizing her every night and school not started yet.

"You can do homework here. And you've been practicing for over two hours, that's enough. I expect you here in twenty minutes or less. You're keeping the doctor waiting." She hung up before Zoe had time to respond. Of course, the doctor's time mattered but not hers.

She quickly re-packed her music and locked her guitar in her music locker. No use taking it home since she would barely have enough time to do homework tonight, much less practice more. She looked mournfully at the clock on the wall. Practicing for two hours my ass. She had fallen asleep in the computer lab and the computer skills teacher had woken her about half an hour ago before he left for the day. He told her she looked like she could use the break. To be completely honest, she could.

The hospital was bustling and busy for a weeknight, and Zoe tried to make herself smaller as she wended her way through the nurses and patients in wheelchairs and white-coated doctors walking quickly and with great self-importance. So many staff and I still have to come babysit my brother, she thought to herself, inwardly rolling her eyes. He was in room 463, just across the hallway from the room he was in last time he did this, ironically enough. And still somehow in pediatrics, though Zoe felt he would only frighten the real children. Hell, he frightened her.

She stepped into the room and stopped, remaining in the threshold. It felt crowded, with their parents and the doctor all standing there and a nurse taking his vitals. He didn't take up much space, wispy and frail in the bed. She knew that appearance would only last so long as he was still weak from this last attempt. Then he'd be back to the terror he was.

"Zoe! There you are. We'll talk about this later, but for now just stay in the room and keep an eye. You know the rules." Her father, never one to waste words. They brushed past her through the doorway, following the doctor. Somebody new. She rolled her eyes once they passed.

This room sucked. The other one he'd been in had been a double, and he'd been the only person, so you could sit on the extra bed and be a good distance away from him. Or sit in the chairs on the other side of the room and be a really good distance away from him. Here there was just the two plastic chairs, mere feet away. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted.

She sized him up and quickly realized that this time she might be ok. Last time he had recovered quickly, fighting the doctors and nurses all the time and generally causing chaos. This time he was quiet, eyes sunken in purple sockets, pale skin seemingly stretched across his skull. Near his scalp his hair looked greasy, but further down its length it looked fuzzy and cloudlike, horribly matted. The gown was big on him and it looked as though the sheet could have just been crumpled on an unmade bed, his body so thin beneath it. She caught herself staring and then realized he was staring back, waiting for her to finish her silent evaluation.

"No it's fine, keep fucking staring. Didn't Mommy and Daddy teach you it's fucking rude to stare?"

"Do you not eat?" Zoe brought herself to sit, her appraisal done. He couldn't hurt her, not now.

"Food is for people who want to live." His caustic tone ended the exchange.

She found herself giving the area around him a more in-depth once over. Just like her dad had said earlier, she did know the rules. No loose objects in Connor's vicinity. His hands above the sheet at all times (otherwise he could scratch himself and give himself friction burns on his legs). Food pre-cut and eaten only with fingers or a spoon. Meds taken on time and his mouth checked to ensure he swallowed. And most of all, engage with him, kindly, whenever he speaks. Any dialogue is good dialogue, even if it's him telling you that you should try slitting your wrists too. Don't fight back.

Finding everything to her satisfaction, Zoe opened her backpack and pulled out her French notebook. She had a large amount of the worksheet from class left to complete. She had spent too much time in the hallway with Evan. She bit down on her pencil, lost in thought about the boy. Something was off today.

She had always noticed him, from afar. She felt like he noticed her to, but was flighty and cagey. She had always felt like if she approached or tried to make a friendship he would probably freak out. Today she hadn't thought before squatting in front of him. He needed her. And then she had gone and snapped at him when he asked about Connor. She hadn't wanted to scare him, hadn't wanted him pitying her, hadn't wanted to confirm the stereotype everybody in the school had that she was just the freak's brother. In that moment she had just wanted to be Zoe. And of course, that meant hiding how Connor ruled her life, how she was only at school to get out of another babysitting shift at the hospital, which would become non-negotiable tomorrow when her Mom had pilates. She hadn't wanted to see Evan try and relate. She had just wanted to have that moment between them, with his guard slightly down. And because of that desire, she had probably ruined it. And if she wasn't at school tomorrow, he might think it's because of him and worry even more. And she wouldn't be there to reassure him…

It had been a short exchange between them in the hallway, but it felt important somehow. She couldn't figure out why, but she felt more urgency about being there for Evan at school tomorrow than being by her suicidal brother's side. Even if her brother was awful, she barely knew Evan and it was a strange way to feel.

"So who's the boy?" Connor's tone was still dry and sarcastic, but there was a note of sincerity hidden beneath.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been sitting there for three whole minutes chewing on that disgusting pencil completely lost in space. There's a boy. Who?"

"First off, there's not a boy. Second off, why in the world would I ever tell you if there was? You'd just mock me for it and go scare him off."

"Well I was just wondering because I have a juicy tidbit about someone who fancies you. And I was just thinking to myself: wouldn't it just be ironic if Zoe was nursing a cute little crush on the very boy who was obsessing over her in some creepy sex letter to himself?"

"What are you talking about?" Zoe's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You don't know? I figured after I took it he'd try and share his creepy feelings for you before I could. Oh well, guess he missed his chance there." Zoe just stared at him, afraid if she expressed curiosity he'd decide to hold the secret hostage for even longer. "It's the boy with the cast. The miserable one."

"Evan? Evan Hansen?"

"The one and only! The one who completely lost his shit when he had to give that hamlet speech last year and just stood there like a goldfish, opening and closing his mouth. To think people call me the freak."

"What do you mean about this letter?"

"Well, I'm sure it's around here somewhere…" Connor sarcastically moved his eyes all over the room before letting them settle on the end of the bed where his personal effects bag was hung. Zoe was over there in a moment, opening it and fiddling through his pockets. "Don't touch my drugs." His voice had a joking tone to it, but Zoe slowed her rifling all the same. It would be like him to have some sort of paraphernalia on him when he attempted on his own life.

Her fingers closed around a piece of printer paper folded into quarters. She unfolded it rapidly and scanned the words, then stopped herself, forced herself to go back to the start, and drank in every word.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Turns out this wasn't an amazing day after all. This is isn't going to be an amazing week, or an amazing year, because why would it be? I know, because there's Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don't even know, and doesn't know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different. I wish I was a 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 most best and dearest friend,

Me

She stared at the paper in her hands until the distant, tinny laughter penetrated her focus. Connor.

"Not so dreamy now, is he?"

"You read this? And you didn't think that perhaps it was alarming in some context? That maybe it means he needs someone? He's lonely and hurting and DEAR GOD CONNOR THIS SOUNDS LIKE A SUICIDE NOTE!" She didn't even realize she was yelling until she felt the deafening silence after her words. Connor stared back at her from the bed, his eyes wide.

"Of course you didn't. Because nobody in Connor Murphy's world can have problems but Connor motherfucking Murphy, right? And god forbid somebody else might feel sad or lonely in Connor's world. And god forbid Connor do anything that might help, like giving the fucking note back, or never taking it in the first place. . ." her voice trailed off as she connected the dots.

That afternoon had been him freaking out about the note. Freaking out because Connor had it, and she might see it, and imagine those deeply personal thoughts making their way to anybody, much less the person they were written about. She was never meant to have read them. And yet, to know now exactly how bad of a place he was in. . . she had to go to him. If he was that bad at school she could only imagine how much worse it must've gotten since. It had been over 24 hours since Connor had taken it. And if it's contents were any indicator, it was entirely possible that Evan could be thinking the unthinkable, about to follow in Connor's footsteps.

She felt her stomach drop and a sudden urgency. She needed to find this boy right now and tell him that it would absolutely matter to her if he disappeared, that she absolutely needed him to stick it out. She couldn't even understand the urge, because it was true: she didn't really know him, and she didn't understand why she was in the note, but if she did matter to him maybe she could convince him to not do the scary things this note foretold. Even if it was awkward with him knowing she'd read it. She could think about that later.

"Umm, excuse me? Are you even listening?" Again, Connor's baleful voice penetrated her silent reverie.

"What?" She didn't look at him as she rushed to get her French assignment back into her backpack and zip it up.

"I said that I was nice to him! I even signed his cast. But that was before I realized he had some creepy fantasy for my kid sister. That's just crossing a line. He needs to learn his place—Hey! Where are you going?" But she was gone, out the door in a rush, leaving him alone in his room.

Hello! I wanted to include a quick note considering the high traffic this story is receiving in such a short period of time.

This is my first published story (in any format) so it's very much a work in progress. Feel free to leave me a review with any questions/suggestions you have: I'd love to hear them and in the long run they will likely greatly improve this story. Enjoy!