Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October 20th

“He's wearing the blue hoodie. It looks like he's in a good mood again, I don't see him in black or red as often anymore. That's great news. He seems different today. I think he almost cracked a smile earlier, I wish I knew what was making him happy, it's such a pleasant change from his normal anger and sadness. In a perfect world, he could smile like this all the time.”

Evan looks down at the notebook and sighs softly, twirling his pencil between deft fingers, lips pursed as he rests his head down on his free elbow, body sprawled over the top of the desk. He looks at the notebook from the side until the words jumble together and doesn't make sense but even without being able to untangle them he knows what they say; the words themselves are carved directly into his heart, into his very being.

Jared taps his shoulder, leaning over his own desk to be able to speak directly to Evan without others catching on. “you do realize that you're openly staring at him, right?”. Evan jerked upright with a start, smacking the back of his head into Jared's nose with a loud crack earning a startled cry from the male behind him who was clutching his nose with an indignant yelp of 'what the fuck, Evan?! OW!'

Evan's face went from dusty pink to deep cherry red when his classmate began to cackle at the scene, thinking Evan has been woken from a nap or the like by Jared. His embarrassment faded as he noticed Connor's eyes on the scene and a small chuckle rising from him, a tiny smile blossoming on his face at how red the small blonde is. Suddenly it didn't matter if the class was laughing at him, he had made Connor smile and that made it all worth it to him.

“Kleinman, Hansen. Excuse yourselves and go to the office. I will not have troublemakers interrupting my class” the Science teacher, Mrs.Smith hisses at them, pulling out two detention slips and slapping them down on Evan's desk as he was the closest to the front of the room. Her eyes glance down and she spots the notebook. She quickly snatches it away as Evan protests loudly, startling a few people around him who know him to be the quiet type.

The teacher lifts it from his grip. “writing notes in my class, Hansen? Why don't we share with the class what's more important than my lesson”. She stares down at the page and clears her throat even as Evan jumps up from his desk and pleads for her to return the notebook, his legs shake with panic, anxiety welling up in his chest until it becomes hard to breathe or see straight.

“He's wearing the blue hoodie. It looks like he's in a good mood again, I don't see him in black or red as often anymore.” Her eyes narrow a bit as she reads and the class starts to whisper amongst themselves, a good portion of them noting Connor's blue hoodie. Evan can feel his world tilting and the classroom starts to fade away to black, only the sounds of the students laughing as they chitter amongst themselves and teacher reciting his deepest feelings remain.

Connor was apathetic at best but he was not stupid, He was one of the first to notice that he was the only one in a blue hoodie in that class. His eyes lingered on the blonde, his panicked expression, the way he fidgeted with half-hearted curiosity. He almost felt bad for him. The boy is not very striking and has always been quiet and unnoticeable but Connor feels as if he knows him from somewhere. He was a very normal person, a normal face, normal polo, normal khakis, normal mop of side swept hay colored hair and maybe he did recognize him from somewhere but he could be thinking of someone else just as easily, He wasn't exactly some remarkable beauty.

Connor normally slept through or skipped class, not caring for the teachers or their lectures. And, for the most part, they left him alone, knowing he was a “lost cause”. Perhaps that's where he recognized the boy from. He'd skipped class and would hang out in the hallways, smoking in the school just because he could. He had seen that boy, in his tucked in polos and unassuming haircut heading to the nurse's office on many occasions. He wondered if the boy, what was his name? had health issues.

“He seems different today. I think he almost cracked a smile earlier, I wish I knew what was making him happy, it's such a pleasant change from his normal anger and sad--” “EVAN!” The sounds faded away as Evan hit the floor, not even having realized he had begun to fall. Jared was at his side in a moment, easing him into his back. “c'mon, breathe, dammit. Just focus on me. It's okay. You're fine. Breathe Evan.”

Evan could hear Jared's voice but it was too high pitched and panicked to soothe him. The laughter had died away as the class realized something was wrong. “What is he doing?!” Ms.Smith yelled in anger, her voice cracking. “He has anxiety, you wrinkly hag” Jared spit the words like venom, his eyes narrowed and trained on her with a rage that went beyond any concern for the consequences of his words or actions. All he cared about at that moment was protecting Evan “You gave him a fucking panic attack”

The teacher drops the book to rush to the back of the classroom in order to help Evan before she realizes that she has no idea what to do for the hyperventilating boy on the floor. Her eyes scan him in panic, unsure of if she should move him or speak. “Mr. Hansen? C-can you hear me? You need to breathe. Oh god, he's turning purple!” She shrieks. The class goes silent as their excitement turns to whispers of worry until Connor stands up and walks across the room with a calm confidence.

Connor remembered the 2nd of April, He had been in fifth grade and had slammed a boy's face into a set of lockers for calling his sister a slut. Connor knew he had trouble controlling his anger, he had seen it in the way he behaved at home, he knew he wasn't a saint but no one... NO ONE said a word about his sister except for him.

He had been sent to the office to wait for his mother to come to pick him up. When she finally arrived her expression was grim, exhausted, drained of all joy, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Connor hadn't felt bad for his actions until that moment, angry as he was he hadn't meant to make his mother cry. He sat there silently, biting his cheek until it split and the coppery taste of his own blood filled his mouth, listening with utter loathing as his mother apologized for him and made hollow promises she couldn't keep of it being the last time he would behave in such ways.

When they got out to the car he sat in the seat, hunched over with a grimace on his face, rolling his tongue around the burning patch inside of his mouth, intrigued by the hot flares of pain that came from straining the wound and enlarging it, aching but unable to cease his curious probing. It took his mind off the situation. He hadn't expected his mother's first sob or the way she leaned across the elbow rests to wrap her arms around him, crying onto his shoulder, pleading forgiveness for failing him.

He sat silently as his mother apologized for not being enough to give him to help he needs. He sat silently as she drove him to his first therapy appointment. He sat silently as she told the doctor everything that was wrong with him... all things he knew already. He sat silently as he realized how fucked up he was and that maybe... just maybe... this man could help him. He tried.

Connor hated therapy more than he hated school. The therapist would ask him how everything affected him, how everything made him feel and fuck if that wasn't his problem, he didn't KNOW how he felt about anything. He couldn't connect his own mentality and emotional state, so he reacted the only way he knew how. He screamed, he threw things, he cursed, and he stormed out of the office. The doctor had found him outside having a panic attack and throwing rocks at passing cars for something to do...

He pressed his hands over his ears at the honk of a car he had hit, flinching at the touch on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed the tears streaming down his face or that he wasn't breathing, only that every sensation was too much. every sound was too loud, the sun was too bright, his skin was too sensitive and the wind felt like sandpaper against his flesh. The Therapist knelt beside him and whispered to him, words he would not be able to forget... words he had remembered for years.. words that helped him and would now help someone else.

Connor knelt down beside Evan and slowly lifted him up to sit back against the wall, a hand bracing his shoulder so he doesn't fall.

His eyes glance over at Jared “shut up” He hears Jared's teeth click together when his mouth shuts, pleased, his gaze goes back to Evan. “If you can hear me I need you to blink twice. Don't worry about speaking or moving yet. Just focus on my voice” He waits a moment until he gets two blinks and nods, feeling a bit more confident. This is good. He can work with this.

“Alright. I want you breathing. I will count for you. Close your eyes. Breath in... 1....2...3....4 breath out 1.....2......3.....4.... again.”

He counts for Evan and slowly works toward eight counts “Can you speak?” Evan opens and closes his mouth experimentally and then lets out a craoked “I think”. Connor hums softly. “Good. Now. I want you to try and focus. I want you to tap on your palm, five sets of three. Count out loud for me. Can you do that?”

Evan nods weakly and starts to tap, his breath catches in his throat when he loses count and his fingers still on his palm as his mind races, trying to remember what number he was on. Suddenly the world is closing back in on him. He should've known he couldn't do this. Look at him, he's such a failure he can't even breathe right. He deserves this. He deserves death. Suddenly a hand is wrapping around his wrist and a voice is hushing him softly, easing away the dark thoughts with a gentle tone. “it's alright. I'll count for you... you just tap, okay?” Evan takes a deep breath as Connor moves his hand beneath his, offering his palm for Evan to tap against. “1.2.3. one... 1.2.3...two....1.2.3...three.” He counts for Evan as he works to five sets of three and then watches the boy breathe out slowly and finally open his eyes up to try and focus on the world.

“You're doing well, now focus on one thing at a time. Name one thing you can touch” Evan swallowed, the first thing coming to mind is the warmth of the hand gently supporting his own. “your hand...” His words are croaked but steadier than they had been before. “Good job. Okay, how about two things you can hear?”

There was a moment where his mind was overtaken with the quiet whispers of the other classmate before he shut down his mind, finding something else to focus on. “Paper rustling... my heart beating...” Connor lets out a soft hum of approval. “three things you can smell.” Evan had to think for a moment, taking in a deep breath, trying to catch the smells in the room around him. “pencil shavings... old books....... and sweat?”

Connor snorts. “you're a room full of teenagers, can't expect all of the smells to be good. Alright, do you think you're ready to open your eyes?” A nod answered the brunette and Evan took a deep breath before slowly opening his eyes and letting himself adjust to the brightness of the room, finally breathing easy.

Evan looks over at the voice that helped work him away from a hospital visit only to find his crush kneeling at his side, holding his hand with a calm expression on. His eyes shoot open and he jolts away quickly, tearing his hand from Connor's as his cheeks flush red and his heart races, throbbing painfully in his chest.

One panicked squawk escapes and he's on his feet, bolting from the classroom toward the nurse's office. Jared watches with a mixture of shock and pride at Connor's actions, realizing that there might just be some hope for Evan's feelings after all. No one had expected Connor to get involved but the surprise of the panic attack and Connor's help wears off quickly to be replaced by one boy calling out “Connor's got a boyfriend!” and laughter rising up quickly.

Jared's eyes narrow as he grabs his stuff and then Evan's, picking up the notebook from where it fell on the floor. With a glare at the teacher and the students, he heads for the door, barely out of the room as he hears a loud crash that came from Connor flipping a desk to shut up the laughing fools in the classroom. He stomps out the door, past Jared without a word only to punch a locker hard enough to dent it in passing.

The short-haired brunette stops in the middle of the hall, holding two backpacks in his hands and wondering if life will ever get easier for his friend. He watches Connor go and sighs heavily, shifting his own backpack up onto his shoulder before heading for the nurse's office to find Evan and convince him that things aren't nearly as bad as they actually are and that whole school might not actually think he's a homo by the end of the day.

Well, that was easier said than done. Not only did Evan refuse to talk to him but he locked him out of the infirmary along with the nurse. Dr. Ashmore was clearly unhappy about this, muttered curses in french spilled from him before he knocked on the door. “Evan, please open the door. I have work I need to be doing and you need to calm down and talk this out. Please don't make me have to call your mother for this.” His voice was soft and calm and he could only hope that he didn't make things worse.

Evan sat in the corner of the room with his back to the wall, knees to his chest and face buried in them as he cried. He couldn't believe how messed up things had gotten. His crush out in the open thanks to his stupid teacher, now Connor and his whole class knew and with the way news spread in the school everyone would know by the end of the day. Connor would never speak to him again... not as if he had spoken to him much before... but that's beside the point.

His head lifts as he hears Dr. Ashmore's voice coming through the door. Evan knows he needs to move but his body is so heavy with dread and anxiety that it feels impossible, just shifting is like moving through a tar pit, his body is stuck and being dragged down into his depression, the dark hole beneath him. He takes a deep breath “just a moment” He calls out, voice cracking as he closes his eyes and focuses on a single body part at a time.

He twitches a finger, then two, then closes and opens his fist. His arm lifts like a boulder but lifts nevertheless. He arches forward, placing his hands on the ground as he crawls toward the door, his fears shackles around his feet, trying to drag him away from the help waiting on the other side of the door. He doesn't deserve help, he should end it all now and save Connor the trouble of ever having to look at him again. No one would miss him, his mother would be better off not having to work so hard to provide for him, Jared wouldn't have to waste his time on him. Everyone would be happy without him.

“Evan, please open the door. Let us help you” The soft tone through the door cut through the darkness. “It's gonna be okay, buddy. If anyone even looks at you funny I'll knock their heads off” Jared hissed through the door, protectiveness welling up in his chest, a fire burning at the thought of anything harming his friend. Evan dragged himself to his feet, Atlas with the world on his shoulder but he persisted until he reached the lock and flipped it open. It was all he could manage as he fell to his knees, hunched over himself.

That alone took more strength then he believed himself to have but as the door opened and arms wrapped around him he was glad that he had let them in. He leaned into Jared's hold and sniffled. “I got you, bud. Just please don't get snot on me. This is my favorite jacket” Laughter bubbled from the boys and Evan managed to rub at his eyes, feeling the darkness of depression slipping away, back into the shadows and away from the light his friends gave off.

It was suddenly much easier to move.

Dr. Ashmore stepped into the room and knelt beside the boys, a hand resting on Evan's shoulder as he shut the door softly. “why don't you tell me what happened and we'll see what can be done about this, yes?” Evan sighs softly and allowed the dark-skinned male to grip his arm and guide him to his feet, leading him to the cot that serves as a bed and examination table, albeit more comfortable than the usual version found in doctor's offices.

Evan sunk into the cushions on the cot and sighed heavily, watching the doctor slip off to the Keurig in the corner, fixing up some chamomile and lavender tea with honey. Dr. Ashmore mixes up the tea with expert ease and snags the cream from the mini fridge, splashing some into the drink, clearly practiced at making the tea exactly how the boy likes it, having made it many times before.

The moment the warm mug is pressed into his shaking hands Evan feels the last vestiges of the shadows fading away and room stops closing in on him. He sips on the drink once or twice before a contented sigh escapes and he relaxes his back into the wall, looking over to the male at the desk. “I'm sorry for locking you out of your office,” he admits with a sheepish smile on his face.

The doctor glances at Evan with an understanding gaze, his lips quirking up at the corners into a serene smile. “It's alright. I understand how terrifying the world can be when trapped in your own mind. I'm proud of you for letting others help you. I know that must have been very difficult but you pulled through for us.”

Evan looks down into his tea, seeing his own reflection in the milky surface, looking into his tired eyes.

“so what is this all about, Evan?” Ashmore, probes, looking the boy over. “you haven't had this much of a meltdown for a while. What happened?” His long fingers flip through the papers on his desk gracefully, every move seeming calculated and precise as if it were a crime to waste even a second's worth of energy on something so simple.

The lack of attention directly on him is something Evan is grateful for. He's always despised how his therapist was hyperfocused on every expression that flickers across his face, studying him like some wounded animal in a cage, little more than a lab rat. He knows he's only there to help but he always felt like his very heart and brain were being dissected by the man, a far cry from Dr. Ashmore's more laid-back approach to him.

Evan sighed and recounted the issues in the classroom to Dr. Ashmore, only smiling when Jared chimes in his two cents constantly, watching as the man sets aside his papers at the mention of Mrs. Smith taking Evan's notebook to read aloud. His eyes darken and he begins to rhythmically tap his pen against the desk in a way belies his annoyance and spells trouble for the woman. It makes the boy feel nice, knowing that the room is full of people who would go out of their way to defend him. “I didn't mean to pull Connor into this... what if he never talks to me again because of this?”

Dr. Ashmore lifts his hands and taps the cap of his pen to his chin thoughtfully before looking over to Evan. “tell me, if he cares so little then why did he go out of his way to help you..? Even if he felt some sort of responsibility he certainly did not need to be nearly as gentle or comforting as Mr. Kleiman has pointed him out to be. He could have simply had the teacher send you to me or come to get me himself. Instead, he took it upon himself to work you through a panic attack despite knowing your feelings. Are you so certain there is no hope there, Evan?”

Blue eyes lift up to look at the man as Evan flounders for his response. His hands clench around the cup that has gone lukewarm in his grip as he worries at the inside of his cheek and takes a deep breath.

“you're right...” the words leave him before he can really think about them but once they're out there he can't help but begin to believe it.

“You're right,” he states again, this time with more certainty, admitting it aloud to make it truer in his own mind.

Dr. Ashmore smiles at the reaffirmation and nods. “Of course I am, I do have a degree in Phycology as well as a doctorate in health studies. I didn't go to school for ten years for nothing, Mr. Hansen. Now, what are you going to do with this knowledge is the true question. Will you stay silent as you have before or will you face him and talk to him?”

Evan looks over at the man, his mind reeling with the option of looking Connor in the face and telling him about his feelings. He swallows. “I don't know... I'm not sure if I can do this... I've never... been that brave before”

“If you always do what you've always done, you'll always be where you've always been”

Evan and Dr. Ashmore's matching expressions of surprise shift over to Jared who is sitting in the swivel chair across the room from the desk, chomping on an old stale cookie from a jar of treats and spinning himself in circles. “why, Mr. Kleinman... that is the most profound thing I've ever heard you say. I am very proud of you.” A bright smile lights the teacher's face.

Jared stops his spinning and glances at the bright smile, then at Evan's jaw nearly on the floor and blinks for a moment. “what? I was just reading my fortune out loud” He grumbles, a half-eaten fortune cookie dangling from his mouth as he holds up a slip of paper in his hand. He quickly pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth and makes a face. “your cookies are stale, man. Get some better treats. Who gives kids fortunes cookies for going to the nurse” He huffs, crossing his arms.

Evan laughs loudly, nearly doubling over at his friend's antics before he wipes the small tears gathering on his lashes and takes a deep breath. “ I'll do it” He replies, confidence staining his tone as he stands up and drains the mug of tea, swallowing some courage with the honey and milk. He sets the mug on the edge of the desk and smiles at the doctor. “thank you” his eyes dart over to Jared “both of you”

Without another word he grabs his backpack, stuffing his books into it unceremoniously and slinging it over his shoulder. “and just where are you running off to now?” Dr. Ashmore chimes with a smirk of the cat who caught the canary, already knowing the answer as he leans forward, lacing his fingers and resting his chin upon the nest of digits.

“I'm going to find Connor!” Evan cheers as he throws open the door, nearly smacking Jared with it in his excitement. A sharp cry from the other boy and a shout for Evan to wait for him and Jared is on his feet sprinting after him.

The sound of footsteps greets the doctor as the door slips closed with a soft 'whoosh'. He chuckles as he stands, going to pick up the mug and clean it with the hand soap above his personal sink. After a quick wash, he turns his head to the sound of rustling plastic, noting that Jared had not cleaned up his cookie mess. With a sigh and a grumble of “teenagers, honestly” He struts over to the crumbs and paper, scooping the mess into his hand, stopping at the sight of the fortune.

He lifts it up “You will do well in earning and saving money”. He re-reads it a couple more times before he grins and stuffs the small paper into his pocket, stepping on the lever and tossing the trash into the open can, letting the lid drop with a clang. “Mr. Kleinman... what an interesting young man.” He hums and he slips over to his desk, turning on the radio to play quiet classical music as he does his paperwork. Best to get what he can done before someone else shows up, honestly, a Doctor's work is never done.

Connor slams the door behind him, Storming out into the courtyard. Everything was a mess now because of that damn polo wearing punk. He had done so well at getting people to ignore him and now that was all ruined. He throws his backpack at the large tree in the middle of the yard as hard as he can, shouting out his rage as he watches, with satisfaction, how his belongings scatter when the zipper bursts. His parents will replace his bag and there is nothing inside of it that he cares about anyway. Everything he really likes is inside of his jacket pockets.

He reaches into his pockets, jerking out the cigarettes stuffed there, stopping when the drawing flutters to the ground. The anger drains from him quickly as he kneels to the dirt, hesitating to touch the paper, as if the rage that consumed him would stain the innocent feelings within the drawing, like ink crawling up the edges of the page until the art and love behind the person who drew it would be stained just as black and cold as his own heart. A strong breeze blows and his hesitations disappear as he grabs the page to keep it from flying off.

Part of him wants to rip it up and toss it. Throw away these stupid feelings so he can forget how his heart beats in his chest, the heart he thought long since crushed by his anger. He unfolds it instead, looking over the sweeping lines of his own face and feels something within him he hasn't felt since he was a child..

He feels hope.

There really is someone out there who looks at him like this... he still can't believe it. It always seems like a dream until he opens the paper and traces every single line on the page with his fingers, getting the lead remains of the pencil on his fingers tips, like the admiration on the page could seep into him and heal him just a little bit. He knows that despite his best efforts, the drawing has become a sort of security blanket for him. He looks at it when he feels alone or hopeless or like he's nothing more than the monster his anger has made him into.

That's most of the time.

A sigh escapes him and he slowly folds the page back into fourths. He thinks about getting it laminated so that the edges don't fray any further and the lines where it folds stay intact. He's put the piece of art through so much hell already, the drawing is slightly smeared from his touches and the paper is missing an edge of two, almost ready to rip at the folded seams but he can't bring himself to put it anywhere but in his jacket.

He holds onto that little reminder that someone out there doesn't hate him... someone sees him... sees something in him that he doesn't even see himself. Maybe that is why he helped that kid in class.... he wanted, just a little bit, to be more like the person the artist saw him as. He hated himself a little more for that. He picks up his backpack and tucks the paper gently into a binder, shoving it back into the bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he stuffs the cigarettes back into his jacket pocket and grips the first branch of the tall oak tree.

He climbs, one foot after the other, a familiar feeling from childhood as he goes higher and higher until the branches and leaves hide him from sight. He thinks to himself how foolish he is as he spears a nearby branch through the bag straps, letting it dangle there while he sticks a cancer stick between his lips and lights up right in the middle of a flammable tree. He chuckles a bit at himself as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, one hand fiddling around with the switchblade there, biting back the urge to pull it out and drag a long line of red across his flesh.

He sucks in a thick cloud of smoke and blows it out of his nose, settling on a slow death instead as he pulls out his headphones and his cell, hooking them up and turning on the first album that comes up. Screams fill his ears and he leans back into the bark, a leg on each side of the thick branch as he watches the sunlight filter through the leaves across his face.

A little voice in him wonders what his artist would draw him like in this moment when he feels hopeless and alone. His hands itch to pull the drawing out and rub at the edges of it but he holds back, instead brushing his thumb over the smooth wooden handle of his blade until his mind quiets.

Classes go by as he empties the pack the rest of the way, a chimney in a tree, watching the day float by. He isn't sure how long he's up there but he knows he's missed lunch and a couple classes. It isn't until he hears the first bell for the end of the day that he finally takes a final drag, long and heavy, into his lungs and holds it while he snubs out the cigarette onto the wood of the trunk. He releases the smoke from his lungs and flicks the bud down to the base of the tree like all the others, giving zero fucks about who finds them there.

He grabs his bag and hefts it onto his shoulders before settling his boots onto the branch below and making his descent down toward the solid ground below. He can't hear the students over his screeching music but he can see them walking about, some watching him as he approaches. He knows they're talking about him but he can't bring himself to care, all he wants is to get out of this concrete hell, back home and cuddle up to mary jane in the safety of his room; preferably beside his window so he doesn't have to hear his dad bitching about the smell again.

He turns up his headphones as loud as they'll go, happily taking the headache over the blatant gossiping of the other students as he walks by, he wishes they would all just drop dead and leave him alone. He picks up the pace toward his car, tunnel vision zeroing in to where he wants to be. He can't wait to be inside of the machine, music pounding so loud it rattles the windows with the second pack he has hidden in the glovebox in hand.

He's so focused on his car that he doesn't see the student running towards him until they slam into his back, shoving him a couple feet forward intto the ground, hard enough to leave his head spinning.

Hard as he tried Evan couldn't find Connor anywhere. He was beginning to worry, what if he really upset the other or someone was mean to him. The day was almost over and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the other boy. His shoulders slumped as Jared patted his back and convinced him to at least grab a snack from the vending machine before the day ended.

With a sigh he followed the other boy who crammed a five into the machine and jabbed at the buttons on the display, watching the packs of chips fall down, a single pack of cookies following. He hits the change button and grabs their goods, tossing them to Evan before he slots the remaining coins into the drink machine, feeling a little hint of satisfaction with each clink of the coins dropping into the bank. He knocks on the front in time to the cans dropping and snags them up along with the couple quarters he gets back, dropping them into the safety of his pocket.

“you can pay me back later” Jared chimes, heading for a picnic table near the overhang with his friend. They take their seats as Evan divvies up their spoils. “cool ranch or Cheetos?” He questions. “Cheetos are OBVIOUSLY the superior choice, bro” Jared grins as he snags up the bag and pops it open, dumping some into his mouth messily, most of it missing and dropping down his shirt. “don't give me that look, I'm saving it for later” He muttered around a mouthful of cheesy crisps.

Evan snorts a bit, looking the boy over. “thanks for trying to cheer me up, Jay” He hums softly, not touching his own bag of chips, simply staring at them with a forlorn expression. Jared sighs and swallows the thick lump of cheesy goop in his mouth before licking at his orange stained lips and fingertips. “look, I know you're depressed about not being able to find Connor but you really should eat. We missed lunch, you've gotta be hungry... you can't starve yourself over him. It'll all work out... I know it”

Evan hesitantly looks up “How?” A sheepish look greets him. “I may have made some copies of your drawings and slipped one to Connor anonymously” He had expected anger but not really a bag of chips thrown in his face type anger. “YOU DID WHAT?!” Evan shouted.

Jared flinched a bit. “it worked out. He keeps looking at that drawing like it's the best thing since sliced bread. He loves it, Ev. If you tell him you drew it I just know he'll give you a chance” He spills, hands up in a placating gesture. “I just wanted to see if you had a chance before you got your heart broken by a jerk who doesn't deserve you” He confesses.

Evan gets up, leaving his food behind as he stomps ahead. He can hear Jared dumping the unopened cans of soda, cookie pack, and Doritos into his backpack before chasing after him. “Evan wait, I was just trying to help. I'm sorry!” Jared calls after him.

Evan had never been quite so glad for crowds as the bell rings and he is lost in the sea of students. He doesn't feel like riding the bus home with Jared today, instead, he heads toward the parking lot, hoping to lose the boy out in the mess of car riders and self-driving students.

Jared jerks his head around the hall, calling out for Evan, worried about the boy. He feels like the worst friend ever. He knows he meant to help but he also knows that deep down.. he was already aware that he was betraying Evan's trust.

Evan sighs and presses his back to the wall of the school, half hidden amongst the bushes as he waits for the crowd to die down a bit more so he can start walking home. He opens his backpack and pulls out the notebook, opening it as he looks through page after page of pictures of Connor, tracing his fingers over the boy's face longingly. Why can't he be braver and just tell Connor how he feels about him, instead of hiding in the bushes like a coward.

He jumps at the sound of a honk. “HEY FAGGOT, WHERE'S YOUR LITTLE BOYFRIEND?!” His head lifts as he stares at three of the football players stuffed into a silver truck with oversized wheels. He recognizes them right away. Cain Davins and his pack of Bloodhounds. Overcompensation much?

He follows their gaze to Connor and tenses up, realizing they are calling after him. Did he really mess things up for him that much? He feels his chest clench and gets up from the bushes, heading toward the sidewalk. Connor is wearing his headphones, not even seeming to notice the assholes jeering. Cain growls “DID YOU HEAR ME, BITCH?! ANSWER ME, YOU FAG!”

Evan flinches slightly, swallowing hard. It's bad enough that they bully him but he can't stand seeing them bully Connor like that too. He wants to say something, he really does, but he's so scared... if he steps up he'll end up bullied even more. One of the boys in the truck, Derrick Michaels number 68, the linebacker, leans up toward Cain with a devious smirk.

“how about a game of chicken?” He purrs, watching with glee as Cain revvs the engine. Evan's eyes widen in horror as he watches Cain slam down on the gas pedal, heading right for Connor. He doesn't think. He doesn't have time to. He runs.

His body slammed into Connor's, shoving the boy aside with more strength than he thought he had, and for just a moment he felt relief... then the pain hit him with all the force of a silver 2013 dodge ram 1500. The world was moving in slow motion almost like he was watching the scene in a movie. His body was thrown across the pavement, skidding to a stop. He didn't notice the gasps of horror from the students or the frantic squeal of tires as the truck stopped.

The last thing that crossed Evan's mind was how beautiful the sky was before he closed his eyes, in that oddly quiet moment, he thought he could see sky for forever.

“EVAAAAAANNNNN!”