A/N: Hiiiii! it's update time! This chapter was only meant to be half of a whole chapter but when I was editing it I realised the whole thing was like 12000 words and that was just TOO LONG and in my plan it used to be two chapters anyway and I think there's enough here to make up a whole chapter so I cut the whole second half of it and that's gonna be the next chapter.

The usual triggers, mentions of suicide but not actually too many suicidal thoughts in this one (I told you it's looking up).

ONWARDS!

These Broken Parts - Chapter 14

It was a Friday when Evan's life with the Murphys began to crumble, but it's a Monday when his home life falls apart.

Heidi got the call in the afternoon, just as she was getting into her car; on her early shifts, she usually managed to get home just after her son got back from school, and if she was lucky he'd still be downstairs. On those days they tended to sit on the couch together and channel-hop, finding the last twenty minutes of a quiz show to watch, and laugh at whatever wildly wrong answers they could come up with, in that precious time before Evan retreated to his bedroom.

Instead, the usual routine was dashed just as she was clipping in her seatbelt. Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, the school's number flashing on the screen when she dug it out. Instantly, dread manifested, cool and dry, on the back of her tongue: she wasn't on the PTA, or part of the carpool scheme, so the only calls she got from them were to tell her that Evan was having some kind of problem and needed collecting. Swallowing, she answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs Hansen? I'm calling on behalf of the attendance admin team of Ellison State High, to check in on the situation with your son."

"What situation?" She asked slowly, perplexed - maybe Evan had to leave early or something? He didn't try to call, and it's not really anything new anyway, but what else could be considered a situation? Other than his anxiety, but they already know all about that. They can't expel him for having anxiety, can they? No, that's ridiculous. And I'm catastrophising, stop that. "I don't - is there a problem?"

"Not a problem, exactly - we were happy to see Evan spending a lot more time at school over this last week, we know his timetable has been pretty disrupted lately, and we understand it's a difficult time. But we heard from the Murphys that Connor has woken up now, so can we expect your son to be returning to school full time?"

The cogs clacked in her mind, and her tense face grew tenser as she struggled to make head or tails of it. "Sorry, what?"

"Of course we recognise things have been hard for Evan, the school has been very lenient these past few weeks, Mrs Hansen," she continued to explain without really explaining, "We've tried to be understanding, we allowed him considerable flexibility while Connor's condition was still uncertain, as per his parents' wishes; but Evan's a senior, and he's already missed the first few weeks. Now Connor's on the way to recovery we're very conscious that your son ought not to miss much more of his education." She waited, expectant of either avid defence or fervent apologies. Heidi, however, was too stunned to say a word. The receptionist awkwardly prompted, "So, Evan will be in school for the foreseeable?"

"Oh. Well yeah, yes, sure, yes." The inherent need to please took over as the rest of her brain shut down, preoccupied with wondering exactly what her kid was getting up to. "I'll - I guess I'll talk to him about it. Yeah. Uh, thanks."

She cut the call, tossed her cell onto the other seat, and shoved her keys into the ignition in one cathartic motion, ignoring the intrigued eyes of her colleagues as they saw her pull viciously out of the parking lot. She didn't bother putting in a CD to brighten her mood - for once, she wanted to preserve some of her work-stress for when she confronted her son.

She mulled over the conversation as she drove, piecing it together with the e-mails the school had been sending out these past few weeks - a boy named Connor Murphy had been involved in some kind of accident at the start of term, they'd been asked to make sure their kids were coping. There was an assembly that parents had been invited to, but she was working, and Evan didn't even mention it so she guessed it wasn't important. But the school had let Evan stay off as long as he wanted while the other kid's condition wasn't stable because Connor's parents had insisted. Meanwhile she'd had no clue that anything at all was wrong.

He was lying to her, that alone was certain. Even though she tried to mask it when she first walked into the living room, she felt betrayal sparking off of her like lightning. Evan was already there, and there were two steaming coffees on the table - the result of a guilty conscience, maybe? No, no, she had to give him more credit than that; he was a good kid, she just didn't understand what had been going on.

"Hey, I made you - uh, h-how was work?" He was fidgeting, picking at the edge of his cast, but he was trying to smile, trying to engage... Heidi had read countless articles about parenting an anxious teenager, she knew all about encouraging them when they make an effort rather than finding something to criticize. That knowledge made her hate herself just a little bit for not being able to let it go.

She sat beside him, and drank. It burned the roof of her mouth, but she needed to stall for a moment to think about how best to broach the subject. The edge to her words was carefully measured, "It was fine thanks, honey. How's... how has school been going?"

He averted his eyes, and took a scalding gulp from his own cup, and if Heidi wasn't so infuriated by him lying to her, she would have laughed out loud at how the both of them used the same painful tactic to win more time.

"It's fine. Things are fine."

"I heard the workload might go up a bit now you're a senior," she pushed, "Have you been finding that so far?"

"No - no, I mean no-not really, not yet, uh, I guess it might do."

"Yeah." She took another bracing sip. "You might need to actually show up for class if you really want to get the measure of how much work is being set, though, Evan." Instantly, his face snapped up, bewildered, and before he could defend himself, she pounced, snaring him in the trap, "I got a call from the school, they told me you've been out of class a lot lately. Which is weird, considering you never asked me to call in. They said it had something to do with that Murphy boy, the one you told me you barely knew? So, you know, I'm a little bit confused here, Evan, because I didn't know you even spoke to him, and I definitely didn't think you'd start skipping school when you know how important this final year is." Her throat felt tight, but she couldn't distinguish where anger ended and hurt began.

"I-I, I didn't, I-I just..." He blinked hard, his face rapidly growing red, back curling slowly into the arm of the sofa. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - sorry."

He gave in too quickly. Not that he was usually argumentative, but it was too empty and dejected for her to be anywhere near satisfied with his response. "And that's it?" She challenged, trying to be stern even though her own sense of betrayal was making her chin quiver. "No, no explanation, no excuse, nothing?"

"There's..." He couldn't look at her. Even if he had, it wouldn't have been his Mom that he saw, but Connor Murphy, pale and trembling and demanding What the fuck did you do? "N-no excuse. I'm sorry."

There was no defence there, like he knew he'd let her down and done something terrible, and the regret was too heavy a burden on his soul for him to even think of trying to justify it. And he was always fairly compliant, but he wouldn't just give in like he was helpless to do anything but be drowned in criticism usually, not with 's heart softened a little at the edges, his hopeless dejection awakening the maternal urge to wrap him in her arms until everything that could possibly upset him went away. But he flinched away when she simply shifted in her seat, so that was off the table. She sighed, dropping her interrogational tactic almost as easily as he'd abandoned any hope of making excuses. "Come on, I don't even really know what you're sorry for. Speak to me, honey, please. What's the matter?"

He shrugged, shrinking further from her, and internally Heidi criticized herself for ruining one of the few occasions she sometimes got to see her son relax with these questions; he was holding it together, but she could tell it was agonizing for him to try to explain: "I mean, it's - y-you know, right, about Connor and his suicide attempt? It's, he's, he was in a coma. And, and his family, they wanted me there, because, b-because they thi-found that I'm, like, h-his friend? A-and I never told you that, because it was a private thing just between us - not like that," he hastened to add, when his Mom raised an eyebrow. "But, yeah, and then I didn't want you to worry, about him being in hospital or about me missing school, so I didn't say. The school gave permission, anyway, Mr and Mrs Murphy made sure they'd allow it. It's not - it wasn't a big deal. And it's over now anyway."

Not a big deal? An unexpected tug of sorrow pulled at Heidi's heart, at how easily her boy could dismiss this. He never told me he had a friend. He didn't tell me he was going through something that difficult. He didn't even ask me about taking time off, he just let another kid's parents give him permission. And it's no big deal. Her voice faltered, "E-Evan -"

"- I'm sorry, Mom, I know it was stupid." He was tense, like a coiled spring, ready to bounce away the instant he thought he might be released. He still looked like he wanted to cry, scarcely holding it together to ask, "Can I go?"

"Listen," she tried again, realising too late that her accusatory start had already pushed him away beyond recovery. "I'm not mad at you, I just - is something wrong? Honey, you don't seem -"

"Nothing's wrong!" He insisted, jumping unsteadily to his feet. Heidi looked scared, and he forced himself to calm down. Trying to breathe despite the weight on his chest, he mumbled, "He's awake now, that's all that matters. I'll-I'll go back to school. It's- everything's fine." Heidi still looked dubious. Screw that, she looked heartbroken, and Evan wasn't anywhere near stable enough to try and pretend she had no reason to be. Openly desperate, he pleaded "Can I - I have homework, can I go upstairs?"

"But -" But we like to hang out a little when I get home from work at this time, don't we, have a laugh at the TV? It's been a while since I was on this shift pattern, we've not had a chance to really chat for ages - no, he's busy. And maybe he's got some stuff going on at the moment that's a bit more urgent than hanging with his Mom. She smiled, as if making her face pretend to be happy could chase away her disappointment. "Sure, Honey." He made straight for the door. "I wish you'd told me." It escaped her before she could filter it out, and Evan froze, rooted to the spot. "It's nice you have a friend - even if it is a private arrangement." Is that what the kids do nowadays? Or is it just because he didn't want me to know? She cringed away from the answer whispered by her insecurities. "Hey. I wouldn't have stopped you. If you'd asked."

"Thanks." Evan rocked on his feet, checking his Mom was finished, and continued to his bedroom, leaving Heidi behind to channel-hop alone, and to discover that quiz shows weren't fun at all without her usual player two.

One thing Connor quickly learned was that being awake in a hospital was infinitely more demoralizing than being unconscious in one.

Reintroducing him to the abomination that constituted solid food in the hospital was enough to make him beg for them to continue pumping him with nutrients until he was well enough to leave. But the nurses didn't want to take him seriously, and the morning after the tubes came out he was choking down the bland cafeteria cereal, thankful for the smallest mercy that at least he could drown it in real milk rather than the substitutes his Mom had obsessed over trying lately. ("It's okay, baby, when you get home I'll make you whatever you want, it doesn't even have to be vegan - unless you want it to be, I know you liked the almond milk.")

For a few hours he could believe the food would be the worst thing, until it was surpassed when a doctor tested his mobility and came to the conclusion that since he could walk without too much difficulty, he could also use an actual toilet. And it wasn't so much that he had to walk the length of the hallway barefoot to do so (though his feet were freezing and he could not allow himself to think about all the fluids that find themselves on hospital floors and give them that slightly sticky feel), but the removal of the catheter that really made his stomach turn, enough that he went on hunger strike for the rest of that day.

Yet beyond the medical stuff, there was the struggle with his family and everything that came along with them. Larry was softer, gentler with him, after Connor's moment of ultimate weakness on that first day. Over the time he remained in hospital, the lawyer refused to take a hint from Connor's otherwise impassive silence that he didn't want to listen to his corny jokes; evidently it had been decided that they'd reached a turning point, and in a way they had, except for Connor it was more a case of having reached that point and peeked around the corner, he decided that continuing down the path wasn't something he was willing to do if it involved getting closer to the man who hadn't ever known how to be there for him.

As per his prediction, Cynthia utterly smothered him, hating to leave the hospital for anything other than to apparently prepare for his homecoming. Even when he asked her nicely, even when he told her to piss off, even when he flinched away from her mothering touch and closed in on himself like a caged animal. At least rules on visiting hours were actually implemented for conscious patients.

And there was therapy, compulsory anyway for suicidal minors, but his parents had insisted on an hour long session for every day he was there, just to be sure he knew they knew just how messed up he was. Or something like that. It wasn't terrible, only because he didn't really buy in to it - he'd learned long ago the kind of thing it's acceptable to say to a therapist and the kind of thing that warrants them having "a little word" with your parents while you go get a treat from the vending machine just outside. Besides, Daniel "call me Dan" Cameron, the hospital youth therapist, was not the kind of person he would ever consider actually trying to open up to: not only was he the typical middle-aged, middle-class prick, but he also wore a wooden bowtie. It actually irritated Connor so much he wanted to reach across the desk and yank it off every time he looked at it, but he got the idea that would land him back in some mental health facility. So he nodded along and dropped the occasional bit of vague information here and there, and stared into his lap rather than at the dreaded bowtie, because if he wasn't dead then he at least wanted to be back in his own bedroom, and he couldn't be in his own bedroom if he was throttling therapists or being kept under suicide watch in the hospital.

There was Zoe, too. He hadn't really anticipated her being an issue until she came in on her own on the Wednesday afternoon, at a loose end since her classes were cancelled last-minute.

"Hi." She stood just inside the doorway, bashful and out of place with her purple sneakers and floral shirt amidst all the mechanical drabness. (The balloons made him feel claustrophobic, drifting around like that, so Cynthia had donated them to the other rooms in the corridor. The flowers had been confined to one corner, and were slowly dying, their heads bowing and browning. It looked like a peaceful way to go.)

She looked like she didn't know what she was doing there. Well, he couldn't help her there - he didn't have the faintest clue himself.

"Hi."

"How's... It going?" The reluctant words stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Strangely enough, seeing her discomfort made Connor feel a little better about his own social ineptitude. Look at that - even the perfect one can't be good at everything. Embittered, he said, "Fine."

"Fine?" Strange, how just a single word could hold so much criticism when it was spat out in just the right way. She was lucky Cynthia had taken a break, because otherwise she would have been ushered out at once.

Connor grimaced. "It's - yeah. Shit, what's wrong with fine? I don't know what you want me to tell you." She swung one foot back and forth, planting it closer to the door every time it scuffed the floor. She wants to leave. I want her to leave. She should leave, except if I tell her to leave then she'll tell Mom and Dad and they'll tell the doctors I'm shutting out my family and they'll tell me I can't go home until I'm ready to accept their support. Reaching for something, he forced the admission, "I had another therapy session."

That did the trick. Zoe strode forward, plonking herself down onto the nearest chair, apparently oblivious to how her backpack rustled when she crushed it into the seat with her bodyweight. Well that was new, they were sitting together, maybe with the aim of talking together - sort of. It was stunted and transparent and tinged with just a dash of longing to be literally anywhere else from both sides, but it was New.

"And?"

"It was crap."

"Bummer." She looked like she might smile for a second, but then remembered that it probably wasn't a joke. Instead, she reached around and pulled her backpack into her lap, yanking out a couple of squished, brown paper packages that smelt so good he didn't dare get his hopes up until she passed him one. "I went to Subway. I don't know if you already ate, but Dad said you hate the hospital food, so..."

"That's true." He took it, perplexed but nonetheless urgent, seizing it before she changed her mind. It faintly occurred to him that Zoe would have no idea what his typical order was, as usually he only went to the gas station Subway when he was high, but really it didn't matter; she could have left it empty and the bread alone would have been better than anything that came out of the hospital canteen. He unwrapped it - meatball marinara with salad, toasted. Okay - "... Thanks."

They ate in silence. He hoped she didn't think too much of the way he folded up the large wrapper to kind of create a wall that hid his mouth from her while he ate - one of the very few things he'd learned from Bowtie Daniel was that his general dislike of eating in front of other people might be a symptom of social anxiety, and he didn't dare admit it in the therapy session but the moment it had been said, that condition just seemed to fit. That was something he didn't want his family to think too hard about, though, because then they might try to get it officially diagnosed, and then they might add it to the list of his problems, another thing for them to monitor and fret over and completely miss the mark on. But he couldn't help how over-aware he was of it as he ate in company.

Connor finished first, and lobbed the greasy paper into the bin. He pretended not to notice how Zoe winced as he raised his arm to throw. She has every right to be afraid of me, he reminded himself, trying to remember he had to stay calm if he wanted to be back in his own bedroom any time soon. The intrusive voice in his head took it as an invitation to remind him, Of all of them, she's the one who'd definitely be better off if you were gone. Irrelevant, I already know that.

He wondered vaguely if she'd enjoyed the freedom of existing without him being around. Probably wishes I'd just got it right on the first try, then she wouldn't have to waste her time with this pity-visit. She didn't seem that cut-up about what he tried to do. She didn't really seem to be feeling an awful lot of anything, not even resentment, which he was convinced she usually saved up just for him. She was blank; it clung to the shadows under her eyes and the creases at the ends of her narrowed lips. It looked weird on her. Half-curious, he asked, "How was school?"

"Fine. The same, I guess, it's kinda getting back to normal now, since the Connor Project started, and because everyone knows you're not dying." If she saw her brother's eyes widen, she refused to let it impede on her passive-aggression. "I mean my classes were cancelled this afternoon because Miss Martinez was sick, but that's not really weird in the same way that everyone asking you if it's true your brother topped himself is weird." She was growing increasingly animated, a harsh, high shake to her words, "These people I literally didn't know wouldn't leave me alone, because of course everybody wanted to know all about you. And they wanted to know whose fault it was." She took another vicious bite, and remarked through it, "All that really sucked, by the way." There it was, an edge of blame, not quite sharp enough to cut him, but hard enough that he felt it digging in.

So not a sympathy visit, then. Dryly, he replied, "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"I'm sure." If they had been closer, that might have have come across as playful, but it was mostly just sarcastic. Connor liked her better that way - she was much easier to deal with when she was compartmentalizing all of her positive emotions to scorn him. He snorted, the half-laughter catching her off guard. She tried to smile, couldn't, looked away.

He sighed, all traces of amusement dissolving. She's miserable here. She hates being around me, it's been less than twenty minutes and she's wishing we were a million worlds apart. She knows it, and I know it, and she knows I know it. Tired of whatever game they were pretending to play, he tried to seem as non-confrontational as possible as he suggested, "You don't need to stay, if you have other stuff to do. I know Mom would happily have me watched for every second, but I don't need that."

Dismally, "Yeah. Yeah, no, of course." She'd just finished her lunch, and was scrunching the wrapper up into a greasy paper ball. "I do, I have stuff, I just thought you might want -" she hesitated a fraction of a second too long, before convincingly finishing, "- some real food. And that's done now, so." She shrugged, stuffing her bag closed again with forced nonchalance; disappointment was painted boldly across her creased brow, given up hiding now she wasn't going to be around Connor. Rising from her seat, she donned her backpack and made to leave. Cast a glance back towards her brother, "See you 'round."

I thought you might want to talk, you know, because I know you can't have been talking to that therapist - obviously, he had a wooden bowtie, what kind of idiot voluntarily does that to themselves - and, I just thought, we've not really been close, and I thought maybe you might want to be. That's a lie, Evan told me you said you did, and I wouldn't have guessed it but, hey, I wouldn't have guessed you would be passed out on your bedroom floor when I went to bring you downstairs that night, so maybe my intuition's not really that great, ha! Oh my god. Okay maybe that would have been too morbid. Or I don't know, is he into dark humour? Zoe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with more aggression than a misplaced hair could ever truly deserve, frustrated as she debated time after time what she could have done better during her first real conversation with Connor. She'd been mulling it over for an entire day, and made precisely zero progress, other than coming to the realization that saying something would have been better than leaving altogether.

It wasn't even like she'd been a million miles away from trying to persevere with it. She'd had a bunch of conversation starters all laid out in her mind, from small-talk to real-talk, it's just that when he'd asked about school, she had to let him know how his attempt had taken over even that aspect of her life. And she knew she couldn't blame him, because there was no way he thought about her enough in the process of planning his death to intentionally use it as a way to ruin her life, but it had, damn it, for the time being, and she wasn't Cynthia, she couldn't just pretend like the way he chose to spend his life hadn't had a knock-on effect on how she got to live hers.

So maybe she wanted to give him another chance. But that could only be if he was actually going to acknowledge how shitty he'd been to her over the years, all the grief he'd caused her, otherwise she couldn't bring herself to move on.

That was why she'd left so easily, perhaps; she was trying, he was infuriating, and when she'd told him about school, he just didn't care.

It wasn't exactly a positive sign, but Zoe Murphy was a perpetual optimist at heart. And if there was a chance for her faith to be restored, she was sure she was coming to the right place. Metaphorically, anyway; more accurately, she was sure she was aiming for the right person, but the address was one her Mom found online and she wasn't exactly sure how accurate it would be.

Still, when she stood at the top of the driveway she thought belonged to the right house, she could imagine Evan living there - a small, modest house, peeling paint on the blue door and a little red car with a dent in the bumper sitting in front of it. It gave the impression of being cosy in the right way, snug and much less artificial than her own home.

Zoe swallowed the prospect of failure; she could stomach it. The girl traipsed down the driveway and rapped on the door. After a few moments, a middle-aged blonde woman opened up, a surprised half-smile already on her round face.

"Hi, I'm Zoe," she readily matched the warm expression, "Does Evan live here?"

"I think so, mostly. Unless there's something he's not telling me," the woman chuckled at her own joke. Zoe would have joined in, but it stopped suddenly, like the woman had just remembered something bleak. It seemed to catch both of them off-guard, and the teenager's feet shuffled backwards. "You need him?" Zoe nodded, and Evan's mom turned, calling over her shoulder, "Evan, come down, Zoe's here to see you." She grinned at the girl, forcefully banishing whatever doubt had momentarily struck her, and invited, "Do you wanna come in?"

"Oh, no, I just wanted to ask Evan something quick. My parents need me home afterwards." She hesitated, kicking one foot back and forth. Evan's mom. She could tell her, surely, it wasn't like she was another over-excited teenager ready to bawl the second his name was mentioned. "Connor's coming home tomorrow, so there's just a lot to do."

The woman's face fell once more, and she checked, "Connor, Evan's friend Connor?"

"Yeah, I'm his sister -"

"Zoe." Evan had appeared beyond his Mom, staring at his guest like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe Zoe was exactly that - the ghost of what could have been. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat, murmured, "Mom," with a purposeful raise of his eyebrows, and drew closer.

"I'll leave you to it, then," she responded, less successful at reassembling some of her cheeriness this time. So Connor's been causing problems even in Evan's home life. It's almost impressive how far it reaches. "It was nice to meet you, Zoe. Heidi, by the way."

She waited for the woman to disappear from sight before she actually brought herself to look at Evan; she'd not seen him around at school - or rather, she'd spotted him, but hadn't had a chance to actually speak to him, and she had a feeling he was trying to avoid her. It was basically confirmed by his shocked expression. Maybe she shouldn't have dragged him into a closet to make out, maybe he was the kind of person who would have been rightfully freaked out by that. But some of the stories she'd told him were infinitely more intimate than anything they could have done in the storage closet, and they'd both been in a strange frame of mind that day, and she was hoping harder than she'd like to admit that their rashness wasn't going to ruin the friendship she'd felt blooming between them. She smiled, hoping her own anxiety wasn't shining through. "Hey. What's up?"

"Uh, n-nothing." He chuckled, painfully awkward, knuckles scraping the sides of his shirt. "Shouldn't I be asking that? I-I mean, because you're the one who showed up at my house, and everything."

"True," she smirked, relaxing into the dynamic between them. This was familiar, comfortable, even; she could appreciate that a lot more now her home life wasn't on the brink of imminent collapse. "Mom sent me here, we wanted to invite you for dinner at ours tomorrow. She said she couldn't get hold of you..."

"Oh." His gaze dropped, and his fingers reached for the hem of his shirt. "Y-yeah, my phone, it's gone weird... sorry."

"No worries." She tried not to overthink his sudden, heightened discomfort. Pressing him, she urged, "So, can you come? It's just, Connor's getting out of the hospital, and I think she and Dad really want you there - you know, so he feels all fully supported." She pulled a face, exasperated as ever by her parents, yet somehow more understanding than she had been the last time she'd vented to Evan.

He smirked, but it swiftly withdrew, "Ah, that's nice, but I-I don't think - no, I don't, don't want to intrude. I think that's, uh, not a good idea." He was fidgeting, rubbing the fabric of his shirt hard between his finger and thumb.

Cocking her head, she asked, "Why not?"

"Oh, it's nothing, it's just that that's a family thing, a-and Connor and me, we're not - we're going back to just, uh, hiding it. The whole friendship, it's just... hidden. Private. So, so I don't think, I think he'd probably be really weirded out to see me sitting - haaaaa - sitting at his dining table." Judging by the noise he made, that was his pitiful attempt to be breezy. But if his grimace hadn't been enough of a giveaway, she could see the perspiration forming on his brow.

"Evan." Her face fell, taken over and pulled down with a new gravity. "You don't have to avoid me. I know things got a little funky the other day, but it doesn't have to make things weird. I just - I like, I think you're cool. And I don't want you to feel at freaked out by what happened, or like you have to hide from me, okay? You're... nice." Friendly. Sweet. I think you'll blush if I tell you you're sweet, I'll spare you that.

For someone delivering a compliment, she looked thoroughly disheartened, and it plucked at the other boy's taught heartstrings. "N-no, it's not you -"

"But it is, though, isn't it; You're Connor's friend. And I don't think I'd have gotten through the past few weeks without being able to just totally rant to you, so I think that makes you my friend, too, and you should be there." Amidst her plaintive sincerity, a dash of amusement urged her to insist, "I swear, I'm not gonna survive dinner if you're not there to make sure my parents don't go literally crazy! Come on, they won't get weird if there's a guest."

They're probably just glad things are getting back to normal, he didn't add. Instead he smiled as best he could when his heart was skipping, she called me her friend. I'm friends with Zoe Murphy and it wasn't even me who decided. She was different, lighter, now. The embodiment of all the sweet, glowing brightness he'd ever dreamed would make up Zoe Murphy, only now she was also shaded in with areas of depth, more three-dimensional and tangible than she'd ever been, and he was helpless. It was all he could do to limit himself to a shrug and the assurance, "I'll have to ask my Mom. But I'll try, if you want me there."

Zoe grinned, beaming brighter than the rays of the setting September sun. "I really do."

A/N: Sooo that's that? Evan is king of bad decisions, helpless to refuse his new friend Zoe. Who thinks Evan's cool and wants to be his friend. They're gonna be buds. I like that idea.

Connor doesn't like wooden bowties but he does like fast food. Side note, I've only had subway twice in my life and I don't really know the fillings. Also I don't really have anything against bowties.

That's all I have to say, just thanks for reading. Feedback is always appreciated if you have a moment.