TRIGGER WARNING: internalized homophobia, swearing, self harm

All thoughts in italics are Evan's thoughts, unless implied to be Connors.

BREAKBREAKBREAK

Italics are Connor's thoughts

This chapter contains self harm, mildly graphic. Be careful reading if you're triggered easily.

Connor Murphey drove home in silence, relieved of his talk with Evan.

You need to control yourself better. Stop yelling at the guy you want to date.

You've only known him for two weeks.

Teenagers fall in and out of love that fast. People make friends that fast. So what if Evan doesn't feel that way quite yet, he said he would date you, he's just nervous.

But you're a freak. And so is Evan. Why the fuck should you even bother?

Because he's your friend.

Connor shook his head, pulling into the driveway of his family's home. He took a few moments to pause, breathe, before getting out of his car. He walked to the front door, twisting the nob. He hadn't even gotten into the house when Zoe's voice came into the air.

"Done buying drugs, junkie?" She smirked, once again crossing her arms.

"Fuck off and mind your own fucking business." Connor bit back, feeling the anger rise in his body. Zoe stood up from the couch she was on, her arms remaining crossed.

"You drove home high, didn't you? Freak. You'll get into a crash again."

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"Because I don't want my freak brother to hurt a poor innocent person. Although he doesn't seem to care about that, remember what you did to Evan, Connor?" Zoe sneered, taking a few steps back as Connor lunged forward.

"Don't mention that! That was an accident and you know it! I'll say it again, fuck off Zoe!" He yelled, walking towards her to the point she was pressed against the wall.

"You hurt Evan, why would he even give a shit about you?" She pushed, laughing as she saw his anger levels rise through the roof.

"I don't need to explain to you, you-"

"Connor!" Cynthia scolded, entering the room after hearing all the noise.

Shit.

"Hey mom, Connor's high again."

"I am NOT high!" Connor defended, his body moving into fight or flight mode. He had already started to fight, flight was now kicking in.

"Connor, I don't want you driving home high! I don't want you high at all!" Cynthia yelled, sighing in frustration at her own son.

"He hurt Evan again too. I can tell by how he looks." Zoe added, moving beside her mother.

"I did not-"

"Connor, is that why he didn't come to dinner tonight? You hurt him?" Cynthia asked, some concern pegging her voice.

"I did not hurt Evan. It's a long story but I didn't hurt him!"

Yes, you did. He hyperventilated, sobbed, and got scared of you. You did hurt him.

"Then why didn't he come, huh?" Zoe butted in, the smirk plastered on her face.

"I don't need to answer that. Just fuck off, Zoe!"

"Fuck off, Connor!"

"Both of you!" Cynthia yelled, but Connor was already walking to his room. He wanted nothing more than to text Evan, but he knew he should leave the other alone.

Locking the door to his room, Connor looked around the dark place. His pocket knife lay on his nightstand, drawing him in to relieve his pain. He hadn't done that in nearly three weeks, ever since he met Evan he's been able to refrain. Sure, he was drinking and smoking a little more than usual, but he hadn't been cutting anymore.

The streak was about to stop.

Connor picked up the knife, rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie. He tucked his long hair behind his ears, making sure he could see the damage he was doing to his skin clearly. The pink and white scars mocked him, watching him.

Don't do it. Evan would be disappointed.

So, he made the first cut. One for hurting Evan. One for probably hurting Zoe. One for himself. Three more to finish it off.

And now Evan will hate you. He may be your friend now, but once he finds this out, you two are done for. He would never be your boyfriend.

A small tear of hatred for himself rolled down his cheek, a bandage from under his bed being wrapped around his bleeding arm. With it only being 8:00, Connor went to bed, hoping to sleep away some of his family's troubles.

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Evan's thoughts are in italics

Evan Hansen returned to the couch after Connor left, curling in on himself with a pillow. Tears poured down his face, despite the good ending with his friend.

You're so pathetic Hansen. Did you forget you're his parasite? You just latch on and make him sick. You're horrible.

He continued to cry, beating himself up from the inside out. Heidi Hansen returned home, finding her son in more pain and discomfort than she wanted to ever see again. Motherly instinct kicking in, she immediately sat him up, cuddling her boy on the couch.

"I'm so sorry mom." Evan muttered, his whole body and mind aching in agony. He felt on the outside how he did on the inside, broken and pathetic.

"What for?" Heidi asked, keeping an arm around her son. He was covered in sweat as if he had a fever, feeling as though there were birds pecking his insides. He felt he needed to tear himself apart to release the inside feeling.

"N-nothing."

"It's obviously something, sweetie."

"I-I really don't like this." Evan squeaked, unsure how to tell his mom what was happening.

"Don't like what? Evan, you can tell me anything."

"Thinking... about a boy... how I should think about... a-a girl..." Evan whispered, closing his eyes to wait for his mom to yell. He waited for her to scold him, he waited for her to kick him out of the house, but it never came.

You should just leave yourself, don't wait for her to kick you out. Just leave and climb another tree.

"That's okay, I don't mind. Do you have a boyfriend? I'd love to meet him." Heidi spoke, making Evan's heart stop beating.

She's not mad, why isn't she mad?!

"I-I don't have one. B-but I like girls t-too." Evan mumbled, yanking on his thumb again. Heidi kissed her son's forehead, making sure he could see her smile.

"And that's okay too. Whatever makes you happy sweetie. Is that why you were crying?"

The tears began to form again and Evan spilled everything, relieved to tell someone everything. Especially with someone who won't judge him for his feelings, as weird as it was to be 17 and talking with your mom like she was a therapist. Then again, what are mothers for?