"Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is not going to be a good day and here's why:

You are not hallucinating. You are being haunted.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry."

Evan blurts out and immediatly feels foolish, standing in the middle of his empty kitchen and waiting for a ghost to appear. "I, uh, didn't want to- well, you know, not lie, but uh, you know."

He fidgets, fiddles with the hem of his shirt, the silence in the room pressing down on him, "could you, I don't know, give me a sign you're here or something?" Evan feels his chest tighten, "you know, maybe bang some doors or, I don't know, break some plates?" When still nothing changes, he balks, "you know what, nevermind, this is stupid- you're probably not even here, and even if you were, why would you come talk to me, this is stupid, I'm sorry, I-"

The kitchen door starts opening and slamming closed, and Connor blinks into existence, his image shimmering and faltering for a second before he fully materializes in the doorway looking bored. "That's offensive, you know, thinking I would go full on Poltergheist on you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Jesus, you apologize too much." The ghost lets the door close one last time and leans on the doorway, arms crossed on his chest, "you were saying?"

"Oh! Right, yeah," Evan fumbles, "I just wanted to say sorry? For last night?"

"Oh, you mean last night when you told my parents we were best fucking friends forever for no goddamn reason?"

Connor looks pissed. Very pissed. Get-out-of-my-way-freak pissed.

The glass on the counter starts shaking.

"Why? Why did you even do it, is it just some new way to fuck with me even after I died?"

Is it Evan or the room is getting colder? He takes a step back from the ghost just in case. "No! Why would I do that? No, I would never-"

"Then why?" Connor flickers for a second, "why are you doing this? Is it my sister, you creep? Because if you fucking touch her, I swear to god-"

"No nonono no! I would never- not that there's anything wrong with Zoe, there isn't, she's amazing, really- I mean, I didn't plan this, like, at all! I swear," Evan is babbling, he knows, but Connor is still glaring at him and the glass on the sink is freaking vibrating and if it breaks there's gonna be a mess and he's going to cut himself in the shards, he knows-"its just that they started talking and I didn't know what to do, and Jared told me to just nod and agree- but I may have agreed with a little too much and by then it was kind of too late, and I have no idea what I am doing anymore- not that I had any idea before, because just no-"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Connor screams and the glass flies straight to the wall, smashing in a hundred smithereens on the floor; Evan flinches, eyes widening and breath catching up on his throat, and the ghost seems to deflate, "fine, whatever, I believe you, for fuck's sake, just fix it."

"Fix it?" Evan winces, pales, "how-"

"I don't know, it's your mess, you fix it." Something changes, the room starts warming up again, but Connor looks tired to his bones and, for the first time, almost translucent, "I just want it to be over."

And now Evan feels guilty, because god, "Is that the reason you're still, you know, here?"

How could he be so selfish? Jesus, he should have said something ages ago, back in the principal's office, when they asked him about the letter for the first time, anything but make up some convoluted story. Maybe then Connor wouldn't be stuck as ghost like now. And now he feels even worse, because Connor's face is doing a thing where he looks so young and sad and tired and jesus, it's so easy to forget he had been only seventeen when he-

"N-no, I mean, I don't think so?" The ghost looks confused, nose scrunching up and brows furrowing, "I woke up like this two days ago, and I'm just- here, I guess."

Connor shrugs, and some of the waves crashing in Evan's chest subsides; it's still nowhere near okay and he has no idea how to deal, much less fix, any of this, but it's better than half an hour ago and really, what more could he ask?

.

.

.

( "Hey, uh, were you serious about that pentagram? Because I'm not really confortable with blood? Like, it makes me kinda squirmish and nauseus-"

"Deadly serious." )

.

.

.

"This is boring."

Evan sighs, counts to ten. "You don't have to be here, you know." He gives Connor a sidelong glance, "you could, I don't know, move on? Follow the light, Connor, go to the light!"

The boy rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his hand; he had been sitting on the floor next to Evan's desk since the class had started and he had popped into existence, "This isn't even how Ghost went, Christ, did you even see the movie?"

Evan grunts. He really needs to pay attention to this class, but he's not sure what's more distracting, the knowledge of the mess he's gotten himself into or the figure on the floor whining about AP Bio.

To his credit, Evan did handle the ghost situation rather well, if anyone asked him. It's not everyday you find yourself being haunted by your classmate and he had had only one minor panic attack so far. Did he yelp when Connor appeared out of thin air? Yes, but did he get many stares for talking to himself? Well, yes, but that's not all his fault, and besides, people always found him weird anyway.

"This is so boring it's killing me. Again."

Connor falls back on the floor, arm over his face.

For a moment, there is silence. Evan is finally focusing on what the teacher is saying.

Connor starts singing loudly and horribly out of tune.

Evan sighs, looks around. No one else seems to be bothered by obnoxious teenage angst lyrics.

To be fair, Evan never had that kind of good luck anyway.

.

.

.

"Oh my god, they will think you were lovers!"

Jared cackles through the phone and Evan sputters, because Connor is like, less than five feet away, lounging in the sun in Evan's room like some kind of oversized cat, and this is not the kind of thing they should be talking about.

"Jared no-"

"Look, come on, you were best friends and he wouldn't let you talk to him at school, and when you did, he kicked your ass, that's like," and now Jared sounded almost giddy, "the most cliche secret gay lovers trope!"

"Oh my god, please stop talking."

Evan whimpers, hides his head in his hands; he can faintly hear Connor snorting by the window and Jared laughing on the phone.

The rest of the phone call is the disaster Evan knew it would be and he is now 20 dollars poorer; he feels kind of entitled to flopping down on his bed.

"He's right, you know."

Evan doesn't say anything, he knows the ghost will say whatever he wants, whether he answers or not.

"People will start saying we were fucking."

Evan flinches, opens one eye, chances a look at Connor. The boy doesn't look too bothered by the idea, but then again, Evan supposes dying must put some things in perspective.

"Thanks a lot, by the way. As if I needed anymore stereotypes going on."

Okay, maybe Evan had been wrong, Connor is kind of upset, but it's not like he is some kind of Murphy expert.

Still, he sits on his bed and turns to look fully at the ghost. Connor is laying on the floor, by the window, stretched out lazily in the sun and still dressed the same as the first day of their senior year.

And it's kind of painful to watch, because Connor doesn't look dead. There isn't paleness or spilled blood or rotten corpse. He's still looking the same, if only a little more tired.

Sad.

Isn't death supposed to be a a relief?

But then again, Connor died but he is still sticking around, even if Evan seems to be the only one who can see him. And how frustrating must that be? To expect everything to finally end, only to wake up again in an even shittier situation?

Evan got his arm broken in the summer, but he doesn't think it's the same thing at all.

( maybe just a little )

"I'm sorry," Evan starts quietly, "I'll talk with Jared. He'll make it look better."

Connor finally opens his eyes, raises one eyebrow at him and Evan can feel the sarcasm rolling off him, but fine, he may have a point.

"Whatever," the ghost closes his eyes again, looking almost like he's sleeping in the sun, "how is this fixing shit by the way?"

Evan starts fidgeting, "well, I figured that, maybe, if your parents saw a few emails, they, uh, might forget about it? Like it will become old news or something. Hopefully?"

"Sounds like 'em."

The words are dripping with bitterness and tired resignation, twisted and broken, tearing at the seams.

And it's not Connor accepting Evan's plan. It's not agreeing and it's not enough of a compromise. It's fragile and damaged, a battered white flag. It's almost like yielding but not quite; not a leap of faith but maybe an olive branch.

Evan thinks it might mean progress.

"So, you're just going to keep haunting me, now? Not that I'm kicking you out- I'm not, really, I don't think you can kick a ghost- well, maybe you can, probably, being in the same astral plane and all and. Yeah. So?"

"Well, it's not like I have better things to do." Connor half shrugs, still sprawled on the floor.

"You could," Evan hesitates, "visit your family?"

"Like I said, 's not like I have better stuff to do."

Evan shakes his head, half wonders if he isn't really hallucinating. The whole situation feels surreal, like some sort of bizarre alternate reality. He thinks this must have been what it felt like for Alice, falling for forever down the rabbit hole, only to find the strangest things at the bottom.