I Made It Weird, Didn't I?
howboutinotdothis
Summary:
"It is kind of weird." Evan's face falls and Connor scrambles to fix it because Evan thanked him and baked him cookies and Connor doesn't want to upset him when Evan's been so—so nice to him. "But not in a bad way. Like good weird."
"Are you—are you sure?"
"I'm positive."
Contrary to popular belief, Connor Murphy is not, in fact, the worst kid in school.
Sure, there was the whole Mrs. G/printer fiasco in second grade, but, aside from that isolated incident, Connor hasn't done much that would label him as a bad kid. He turns in his homework on time, he does well on tests, and he doesn't talk to people in class. Well, that last part is less because he's a good kid and more because he doesn't have any friends to speak of and so doesn't have anyone to speak to in class, but still. He doesn't get into fights. Not really. Connor's shoved a kid or two in his grade, but that's always just been in response to someone being an asshole to him, and he shouldn't get in trouble for standing up for himself. But he does.
Not that he even has to stand up for himself much; there aren't even that many kids who dare to bother him since he shoved that one kid in the parking lot and the kid ended up with a broken ankle. Which wasn't Connor's fault—how was he supposed to know the kid was going to lose his balance and take a dive off the edge of the pavement? And isn't it the school's fault that they built the parking lot right beside a ditch so if someone trips or is gently pushed they'll fall straight into the ditch? But, Connor digresses. The only kids who really bother him are the few brave souls desperate enough to be considered cool that they're willing to bother the school's resident psychopath, and even they have started laying off of him recently. Connor guesses everyone's started in on the kids even lower on the middle school food chain than him.
Which brings us to now, when Connor's standing outside the boys' restroom in the science wing, listening to Evan Hansen's stuttering explanation of why he doesn't have any lunch money to give whatever dipshit cornered him in the bathroom peppered with an obscene amount of apologies. Seriously, this kid is apologizing a lot for someone who's being harassed.
The way Connor sees it, he has two choices: go in there and help this kid out or continue onto another bathroom, leaving Evan to the inevitable swirlie that middle school boys love so much. He's leaning towards the second because what's the point of getting involved and making himself a target when things have started cooling down for him, you know? But something's stopping him from walking away.
Evan Hansen is one of those kids who tries to survive by flying under the radar; he never speaks unless spoken to, he always agrees with other people's opinions to avoid confrontation, and he doesn't really do anything. Evan doesn't make waves.
He also doesn't have any friends, which Connor figures is why he's found himself in this situation. Unless people are afraid of you like they're afraid of Connor, you need people to back you up. The only people Connor's ever seen Evan have anything resembling a conversation with are Jared Kleinman and Alana Beck, and Alana Beck talks to everyone and Jared Kleinman is an asshole. So, Evan's fresh out of luck when it comes to having someone to stand up for him.
Connor knows he should just leave. Evan Hansen has never—and would never—look out for him, so there's no reason Connor should look out for Evan. But he feels bad, leaving this kid who tries so hard to go unnoticed to be treated like garbage by Brent Whatever-the-Fuck and his goons. So, Connor makes a bad decision, which probably wouldn't come as a shock to anyone.
Connor makes a lot of bad decisions.
He shoves the bathroom door open hard enough that whoever was standing against the door to keep it closed from prying eyes stumbles and narrowly avoids falling by catching himself on one of the sinks.
Connor doesn't have to do much besides stand there menacingly and glare at the boys bothering Evan before they bounce, muttering half-hearted apologies to Evan on their way out, looking almost guilty to be abandoning the kid they were just bullying with the infamous Connor Murphy. Evan certainly doesn't look any calmer with Connor being the one cornering him instead of the other punks. Well, this was a shitty idea.
It's barely two seconds after Connor turns his gaze on Evan that the boy is bursting into tears, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and muttering apologies between loud, shaky gasps. Fuck. Connor isn't exactly the type of person who comforts other people. Hell, Connor isn't the type of person who saves people from bullies either, but look where he's landed himself now. In a gross public restroom during his lunch break with a boy who seems to have sprung a leak.
He takes a few steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture, coming to stop about a foot in front of the other boy, who doesn't seem any closer to shutting off the waterworks than he did when Connor wasn't encroaching on his personal space. "Hey, uh," Connor starts. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, I'm fine—sorry, sorry, I can't—I'm r-really sorry—" Evan chokes out and honestly this is the saddest fucking thing Connor's seen in a while. Evan's face is red and blotchy and his face is scrunched up in this horribly pained expression like someone just punched him in the chest or something. He's shaking like a leaf. He looks really… Pathetic.
Connor grabs some paper towels from near the sink and returns to his spot that's close-but-not-that-close to Evan, holding them out like a peace offering. Evan doesn't seem to notice them through his tears, so Connor pushes out a low sigh, letting the hand with the paper towels drop to his side while he brings the other one up to hover a few inches above Evan's shoulder. When Evan still shows no sign of calming down a few seconds later, Connor drops his hand on the boy's shoulder, cursing inwardly when Evan flinches at the sudden contact. This is why Connor doesn't try to help people—he's supremely shitty at it. He's probably making everything worse, but it doesn't seem right to leave Evan crying by himself in the bathroom, so he stays, trying to calm him down.
"Hey, hey, calm down," Connor mumbles, trying to make his voice sound comforting and not confrontational, "they can't hurt you anymore." He awkwardly rubs the other boy's shoulder as he continues to assure Evan that he's okay, the other kids are gone, Evan's going to be fine. It takes a while—or, it feels like it takes a while, it could've been less than a minute for all Connor knows—but Evan stops crying and gets his ragged breathing under control, accepting Connor's offering of the rough paper towels and using them to clean the tears and snot off his face.
"S-sorry, I just—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kept you, you probably had way more important things—just, sorry. I'm really sorry." Although the waterworks have stopped, Evan still looks like he's two seconds away from having another breakdown.
"Uh, it's fine. No big deal."
"It is a big deal," Evan mutters in a soft enough voice that Connor figures he didn't mean for him to hear it. "Th-thanks. For—for, um, everything, I guess. You didn't—you didn't have to do that, so. Thank you."
"Like I said, it's fine." The discomfort that comes with interacting with other people that subsided while Connor helped Evan is creeping back in, settling in his chest like a physical thing. Connor doesn't know how to do this—how to properly talk to a kid who just spent half their lunch period crying in front of him.
"It's not fine, but, uh, thank you for. Saying it is." Evan seems to be returning to his usual, awkward self, which makes Connor feel a little better. He'd been getting worried that Evan was going to be stuck as a blubbering mess for the rest of the day, which would not have helped him with the whole getting picked on thing. "I should—I should go." Then Evan's dumping the soiled paper towels in the trash can and scurrying towards the door, probably planning on running off to tell Kleinman what just happened. He stops before he's out the door though, looking over his shoulder at Connor. "Th-thanks, Connor." The words come out soft and his lips are curved in a weak smile, like he's trying to assure Connor that he's fine now. He's out the door before Connor can respond.
Connor doesn't stay in the bathroom long after that. Lunch is over by the time he emerges, so he walks to the science classroom, taking his seat beside Alana and half-listening to her chatter on about some assignment or other. Normally, he'd listen to her talking, offer a snarky comment here or there, but today he's too hung up on thinking about Evan Hansen to be an active listener. Connor wasn't expecting to be thanked for his good deed—he was more expecting for Evan to tell him he didn't need his help or that Connor should leave before he made things worse. That's what most people at this school would do. But Evan apologized—for what Connor doesn't know, being the target of bullying maybe? But that's not his fault, not at all—and thanked him for helping him out. He treated Connor like a normal good Samaritan, not some social reject trying to make a friend by helping someone when they're at their most vulnerable. Not that Connor was trying to make a friend by doing that, or whatever. He was just trying to be a decent person.
Connor thinks about Evan a lot that afternoon. He thinks about him through the rest of his classes, through dinner, and all the way up to bedtime. Even his parents notice that he seems distracted, and they don't notice anything about him that isn't decidedly negative. Evan's kind of a weird kid, he thinks. He gets good grades, but he doesn't talk to the other smart kids. He dresses nice—Connor hasn't seen him in anything but a polo and khaki pants—but he doesn't hang out with the other kids who make a point to dress well. He's on the basketball team with the insufferable Jared Kleinman, but he doesn't hang out with his teammates. Evan seems to have a million opportunities to make friends, so why hasn't he? If Connor was in his position, he'd definitely—
Well. Connor's never been in his position so he doesn't know, exactly, what he would do besides the fact that he wouldn't pass up having friends.
Connor's still thinking about Evan when he gets to school and finds the person taking up his thoughts hovering awkwardly by his locker, playing with the hem of his shirt and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Hansen."
The boy nearly jumps out of his skin when he notices Connor standing there. "Oh, h-hi, Connor."
They look at each other for a moment, neither one of them sure of how to continue, and Connor realizes as the silence continues to stretch on that he's going to have to be the one to move this conversation along. "Do you need something?" The question comes out harsher than he intended and he can see Evan's shoulders tense in response, preparing for confrontation.
"Um, well, n-not really, but, uh, I have something to—to give you for, for helping me out yesterday." Evan pulls his backpack off and starts digging through the main part, producing a plastic bag filled with cookies after a few seconds of searching. "I didn't, uh, I didn't know what type you would want, so I figured chocolate chip would be the best way to go—I mean, who doesn't like chocolate chip, right—not that there's anything wrong with you if you don't like chocolate chip! S-sorry, you probably don't like it, I should have—sorry." Connor's staring blankly at the bag when Evan finishes his word vomiting. He made him cookies. Evan Hansen made Connor cookies.
What the fuck.
"It's okay if you don't—if you don't want them, I totally understand, I mean who bakes people cookies anymore, that's weird—that's so weird, I don't even know why I did it." When Connor doesn't reply, Evan continues, cheeks bright red with embarrassment. "But, um, I wanted to thank you and, you know, my mom—er, people tell me that everybody loves baked goods and, uh, I like baking, it's cool, you know, you just follow instructions and get cookies—but I mean, I don't bake like a lot, you know, that would—that would be weird if I did, right? Um, I just bake when I'm nervous—not that I'm nervous, or that you make me nervous, or anything! I just, uh. Sorry, this was a bad idea, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I'll just—I'll go, sorry."
Connor grabs Evan's arm when he realizes the boy is about to run away. "Um, no, it's. It's cool. I just wasn't expecting," Connor glances at the bag of cookies, surprised to find that they look like actual cookies and not hunks of raw dough, like Evan actually put time and effort into baking these, "this."
"I made it weird, didn't I? I should have just left these in your locker, but I was worried you might think they were like weird poison cookies or something—which they aren't, they aren't poisoned or weird, they're chocolate chip, not—not poison—and I didn't want to leave a note because that seemed weird, too, but, uh, I think I—I think I, um, made it weird."
"It is kind of weird." Evan's face falls and Connor scrambles to fix it because Evan thanked him and baked him cookies and Connor doesn't want to upset him when Evan's been so—so nice to him. "But not in a bad way. Like good weird."
"Are you—are you sure?"
"I'm positive."
A shy smile spreads across Evan's lips and, for some unknown reason, Connor can feel his face heating up. "Good—or, uh, cool. Cool." Evan holds out the bag of cookies and Connor accepts them, marveling at how soft they feel even through the plastic.
"You should, um," Connor starts, feeling his cheeks burn because you're being stupid, Connor, stop while you're ahead, "do you maybe want to share these? At lunch?" The moment the question is out there, Connor wants to take it back. Of course he doesn't want to, who would want to be seen with a freak like you?
"Yeah, no, um," Evan clears his throat, looking off to the side like he's embarrassed, or something. "That would be—that would be great."
"Great. See you later then, Evan."
"Uh, y-yeah, see you later, C-Connor." Evan looks happy, which is weird, because people never look happy when they have to spend time with Connor, but Connor's already established that Evan is a weird kid, so he just chalks it up to Evan's preexisting oddness.
He looks down at the bag of cookies in his hands, a physical reminder that Evan Hansen did just give him cookies that he baked himself to thank Connor.
Well.
Fuck, then.
