FicWad

Tuesday at school was a joke.

Jared kept trying to talk to him, and Connor kept ignoring Jared because he was so not putting up with him right now.

Brian Harris was gone for the day, though. Not that it stopped his idiot friends from commenting on everything about Connor had ever worn, read, thought, looked like.

Tuesday was also when Connor abandoned his strategy of acting like he was normal. There was no point anymore, and he had a stack of books he would rather be reading. So Tuesday on the way home, he read on the bus. Finished the stupid suicide book (it was due back at the library anyway). Started in on Will Grayson Will Grayson. It was a fast read. Connor liked lowercase will, he thought. He was a mess and definitely gay, so Connor liked him. Though, uppercase Will was cool too. Connor was also starting to believe in the life changing magic of shutting the hell up. Though he could never be friends with someone like Tiny, by choice or otherwise. Too much potential for getting his ass kicked. Too much attention. Connor definitely preferred shutting up.

“C-Connor?”

He looked up.

Evan Hansen was standing beside his seat on the bus. His face looked sort of red and blotchy. Connor hadn’t noticed he had been back at school that day, since Connor had spent all of his time ignoring Jared. He wondered if Evan’s face was red for any particular reason or if he just had some kind of blotchy face condition. That might explain why nobody ever talked to him, if he had something like medically wrong with him. Sure, Evan was sort of a loser, but he was smart, so it had always struck Connor as weird that Evan didn’t seem to have friends other than Jared.

“You don’t ride this bus,” Connor said stupidly.

Evan’s face got even redder. Connor noticed that Evan had sort of broken out in a sweat; his face was all shiny suddenly. Connor found himself a little bit envious that Evan’s forehead wasn’t all covered in pimples. “I...I’m staying at Jared’s again.”

Connor blinked. Waiting.

For more information.

For Evan to move the hell past him and sit somewhere else.

Connor knew most of the seats were totally full, but he wasn’t in a very charitable mood. He decided he didn’t care about Evan just standing there, since he wasn’t trying to be normal anymore. Connor turned back to his book.

But then the bus driver shouted for Evan to sit down, they were moving , kid, you need to put your butt in a seat!

Connor looked up despite himself.

Evan’s eyes darted around helplessly, and Connor could see that he was pleading desperately for somebody to give him a place to sit.

So Jared hadn’t sat with Evan.

Charming.

What a stand up guy that Jared Kleinman was.

Connor sighed heavily and moved his backpack from the usually empty seat beside him. “Just sit down. Jesus.”

Evan sat quickly, almost falling over in his rush. He smiled at Connor. Quickly. Gratefully.

Damn it.

Connor knew he ought to ignore him. Just keep reading. He didn’t want to talk to Evan Hansen. He didn’t want to look at him. Evan was friends with Jared and since Jared was a dick then Evan was by association.

But Connor’s eyes couldn’t stay on the page, couldn’t focus on how Isaac wanted to meet lowercase will at some place in Chicago. He couldn’t concentrate. Connor sighed, closing the book. “How’s your grandpa? I heard he was sick.”

“O-oh,” Evan said, and if it was even possible, his face got redder. “H-he’s coming home from the hospital today.”

“That’s… good,” Connor said because he didn’t know how else to respond to that kind of news. Objectively people not dying was probably a good thing.

“Th-thanks.” Evan fiddled with the strap on his backpack. “My mom will probably be home in the morning...which is why I’m staying at Jared’s since our moms are friends…”

Connor nodded, short, curt, barely moving his head. Just acknowledging. He didn’t give a shit if Jared’s mom was friends with Evan’s mom. He didn’t care.

He really didn’t care.

Maybe if he kept thinking that eventually he would believe it.

“So, um, did you guys f-finish your project?”

“Yeah,” Connor said shortly. He just kind of looked out of the window.

He didn’t care.

Honestly.

“Are you going to Jared’s party this weekend?” Evan asked, twisting the ends of his t-shirt in his hands. “H-he… Jared that is, he, um, he said he was getting a DJ and that sounds liketherewillbe, uhm, dancing but anyway um, like, are-you-going?”

Connor felt his face burn. He pulled his hands into tight fists over the cover of paperback he was holding. “Fuck you.”

Evan, however, paled considerably. “W-what?”

“You think you’re being funny,” Connor accused.

Evan stared, his eyes wide. He let out what sounded like a laugh. “Uh, no, I-”

“You’re… you’re making fun of me for not being invited. Right? Is that it? You think it’s funny that I didn’t get invited, right?”

“H-he didn’t invite you?” Evan asked, eyebrows flying up. “I. I’m.. I-I’m s-sorry, I just th-thought he… I’m… I’m s-sorry.”

Connor said nothing. He stared down at his book.

Evan kept apologizing.

Connor said nothing, clenching his fists tighter.

“I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, I…” Evan trailed off, looking at him hard. Like he was trying for eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought… I thought… I’m so sorry.”

Connor said nothing. Didn’t look up.

Intentionally ignoring him.

He pulled open the paperback again. Eyes trained on the book again, trying to get lost, trying to let himself get pulled into this book, trying to lose himself in something Tiny Cooper was saying.

Evan Hansen, who Jared thought was lame, was invited and he… and Connor wasn’t. Jared didn’t even like Evan, he basically told Connor that he thought Evan was lame, but Evan wasn’t invited. Great. And now Evan thought Connor was easy enough to pick on. Just. Freaking. Great.

Connor’s throat burned.

How embarrassing would it be if he just started crying right there on the bus?

He would literally rather die.

Connor closed his book book again.

Pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing to reveal the stupid Mickey Mouse bandages he had on his wrist.

He pulled them off fast, flinching a little.

The cut had scabbed over. It felt a little rough under his fingers. His wrist itched a little bit.

Connor checked to see if Evan was looking at him. He wasn’t, his head was down, he was staring at his shoes, his face red and blotchy again.

Connor picked at the scab on his until it bled again, throbbing a little.

The embarrassment sort of subsided a little bit after that.

Better.

That was better.



Wednesday morning. Connor had overslept and his parents hadn’t bothered to wake him for some reason and he hadn’t showered or eaten and he’d almost missed the bus.

“Look, we’re still doing this project together,” Jared said meeting Connor at his locker just before school started on Wednesday. “So can you maybe stop being such a jerk to me until it’s over?”

“You think I’m being a jerk?” Connor said. “Are you serious?”

“Well… yeah! You ignored me all day yesterday! I just sat there in English while you dicked round on some reddit thread. You’re doing to get me into trouble.”

“Mr. Weston likes me, relax.”

“No! We’re meant to be partners, and I can’t just sit there next to you saying nothing! I need to get this grade up, or did you forget? I need your help.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Didn’t realize you couldn’t live without me Jared-”

“Dude, come on , I thought….” Jared pushed his glasses up. He looked around, nervously, like he was making sure that nobody was paying attention to him. “I thought we were, like, friends , or whatever.”

Connor didn’t miss the way Jared got quiet before he said he and Connor were friends.

Connor bit his lip. “I don’t want to be friends with someone who is embarrassed to be seen with me,” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was true. He didn’t… Connor didn’t want that. He would rather have no friends at all then friends who couldn’t even invite him to a fucking bar mitzvah. His mom had asked about Jared’s last night too; apparently she had talked to Mrs. Kleinman about it on the phone last weekend. Connor had to admit, red faced, that he hadn’t been invited. His mom just sort of frowned, and then Connor just… started to apologize stupidly, saying he was sorry that she had ever wasted money on the stupid suit and tie because he clearly wasn’t getting invited to anything and he should have just told her so so she could have returned it all. He ended up getting up from the dinner table without finishing his food, earning a glare from both his dad and from Zoe, heading upstairs and locking his bedroom door, trying to shove his face into his pillow deep enough that it would block the noise of him crying.

He must have done a good job.

Nobody came to check on him.

Which somehow made it worse .

Connor felt like someone had gutted him. This whole month had been a freaking disaster. He couldn’t believe he had ever let himself think... Every time he thought of Jared it just hurt worse. How stupid he had been to think that it would ever be anything more than working on a class project together? He should have expected it. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. It was stupid to get his hopes up. Jared didn’t like him. Didn’t like him the way that Connor liked Jared. Didn’t even want to be friends. Didn’t even invite him to something that literally everyone else had been invited to.

Jared was getting louder now, snapping Connor back into the present. “Look, I’m sorry ! Jesus. I… Do you want me to ask my mom if I can invite you…? I-”

“No,” Connor said shortly. “I don’t want to go your stupid fucking party.”

“Well, then what do you want ?” Jared practically yelled.

“Careful,” Connor said, “Wouldn’t want the other kids to see you talking to me.”

Jared fell silent. His face was red. He looked ashamed and embarrassed and Connor felt a little bit pleased about that. “Screw you,” Jared practically spat.

Connor shifted his jaw. Let Jared walk off.

He walked into homeroom, his head down, and pulled a new book from his backpack. He had finished Will Grayson, Will Grayson . Because apparently he didn’t sleep at night anymore. He just took small naps before dinner.

The new book was called Impulse . It was about some kids who had all tried to kill themselves. One of the kids was gay, Connor thought.

He sort of wondered if his parents ever wondered about the books he read. Connor assumed not, or they’d fight about that too.

And his mom would cry.

And his dad would yell.

Connor wished sometimes he could just disappear into a book. Even one like this one, with the kids all in a psych ward or whatever. He would take other messed up kids like him over his real life any day.



Brian Harris had fucked with Evan Hansen again. Connor realized this as he walked out of jazz band on Wednesday afternoon and saw Evan trying to quietly mop up a bloody nose in the hall.

Connor knew he should say something.

Do something.

He should go, like, punch Brian in the face or whatever.

He should go talk to Evan who had been looking nervously over at Connor all day. Even though Connor wasn’t talking to Jared anymore.

Connor thought that maybe Evan wanted to be friends.

But whenever he looked at him he just thought of Evan getting invited to Jared’s bar mitzvah and him nattering on about the DJ and then Connor’s blood boiled. He couldn’t be friends with Evan fucking Hansen.

Evan wiped his bloody nose again, and then made eye contact with Connor for the briefest of seconds.

Connor rolled his eyes.

Muttered, “Loser.”

And walked off fast.

He thought he might have heard Evan say something, but he didn’t turn around or apologize. He just.

It felt good, he realized. To know he had hurt Evan freaking Hansen’s feelings. Even if that was the easiest thing in the world. It made him feel better. Like he could control one damn thing.

So fine.

If nobody wanted to be his friend, then so be it.

Connor was over being polite.

He was over it all.

So be it.



Thursday wasn’t so bad.

Mr. Weston announced that Connor and Jared would do their presentation the next day. Jared had tried to say something to Connor about it, but Connor just kept his eyes on his notebook, pretending he was deaf.

His classes weren’t the worst.

At lunch Connor crammed himself into an empty seat and read the whole time, picking at his food. Nobody tried to talk to him. Even Brian Harris and his lackeys left him alone.

Which suited Connor just fine.



Friday morning was bright and sunny.

Connor wore his favorite t-shirt, the one that was massive on him and said “Nirvana” across the chest, even though his dad hated it.

He listened to his iPod on his way to school, head shoved into his book. His mom had added songs from the band on his t-shirt for him. She said she had listened to them in college and she thought he might like it. Connor was surprised to discover he did actually like it. The singer sounded as pissed off as Connor felt a lot of the time. He seemed to hate himself. Which Connor thought was pretty damn cool. He made a mental note to google them when he was in the computer lab later that day.

By the time English class rolled around, Connor was actually feeling pretty okay. He even tried to be friendly with Jared. After all they had to do their powerpoint in front of everyone. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little nice to him. Just until it was over.

The presentation actually went pretty well. Jared didn’t talk too fast, Connor wasn’t too quiet or loud. Their slides looked good. Better than the kids who went before them at any rate. They had pictures from the movie too, which helped to explain some of their points about girliness. They talked about the differences in the book and movie. Jared agreed with Connor that the book was better.

They spent a couple of minutes talking about death and how it was such a major part of the book. The other kids asked a lot of questions, and even though most of them addressed their questions to Jared, Connor thought it went pretty good.

“Thank you Jared and Connor,” Mr. Weston said, smiling. “Go ahead and head back to your seats. We’ll have the next group come and get set up.”

Connor went back to his seat, smiling a little.

He thought he had seen something going around the room when he was up presenting. Kids handing something in a way that was meant to be sneaky. Probably some stupid note or survey or whatever. Mr. Weston had gotten sort of pissed off at the start of class and collected everyone’s phones, so Connor assumed it was just their low-tech replacement until the class ended.

So he was surprised when Jared reached over and put a folded up square of paper on the corner of Connor’s desk.

There was a note on his desk.

Connor looked at Jared, questioningly, but Jared was watching the next group with such intense focus that Connor doubted that even yelling at him loudly would have gotten Jared to turn his head.

Connor knew there was no way a not was for him. He figured he’d just open it and pass it over to whoever the intended recipient was, since there wasn’t a name on the front.

He pulled it open carefully, so it wouldn’t make noise and attract Mr. Weston’s attention.

He was surprised when he saw his own name scrawled across the top of the page.

It read, in some big girly handwriting, “Connor Murphy is… ______.”

And then below it people had filled it in with their answers.

“Gay.”

“Such a freak.”

“A total loser.”

“A psycho. Remember how he threw a printer at Mrs. G?”

“Gay for Mr. Weston.”

"Super gay for Mr. Weston."

“Definitely blowing Mr. Weston. What a fag.”

“An asshole. Seriously. I wish he would just kill himself already, do us a favor.”

“A nerd. What is he always reading? What a fucking queer.”

There were so many. Cramped handwriting, slanted, all different people had written on this. There were so many.

Connor’s heart stopped. He was going to throw up.

“Probably going to blow up the school. What a freak.”

That last one.

He knew that handwriting.

He knew it was Jared’s.

Connor knew.

He had been watching Jared write things down for several weeks.

He knew the handwriting.

He tried to take a breath, but then some kids on the other side of the room started tittering, and Connor heard a few mumble about how he had gotten the note, giggling. He kept trying to breathe, but his heart was pounding too hard, and he was definitely going to start crying unless he got up, and he couldn’t do that.

“What’s going on over here?” Mr. Weston demanded, sounding irritated. “We should be focusing on Alana and Evan’s presentation, guys, come on.”

There was a collective giggle in the class. People threw their hands over their mouths. Connor clenched his shaking hands into tight fists, trying to just breathe, just wait, just let it go.

Jared.

Jared had fucking written on that. Which meant that Evan probably had too.

He didn’t care about the others.

But those two.

Damn it.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, what is going on?” Mr. Weston said loudly, flipping the light back on.

“I think Connor got a note,” Celia Car said from across the room, smirking. Connor thought he had heard that Celia might be Brian Harris’s girlfriend now.

Of course.

Mr. Weston rolled his eyes. “I expect better of you, Connor,” He said, reaching down and scooping up the note just as Connor said, “No, don’t-”

He watched Mr. Weston’s eyes get wider and wider as he read the note, his lips settling into a frown. “Okay, who wrote this?”

Connor wished he could sink into the floor. Or just die then and there. This was humiliating.

“Who wrote this?” Mr. Weston repeated. “This isn’t funny. You had all better start talking or everyone is getting lunch detention.”

“Please,” Connor begged. “ Please… don’t.”

“There is some serious stuff here.” Mr. Weston kept glaring out at the class. “I’m going to have to take this to the principal. And unless someone owns up to this, everyone is going to get detention. Everyone is going to have to stay inside and write an apology letter unless somebody starts talking.”

Nobody said anything. Mr. Weston sighed.

The bell rang.

Everyone got up.

Mr. Weston was shouting at everyone to sit back down but there was no chance of him getting them back now.

Connor realized for the first time how young Mr. Weston was. He was younger than Connor’s parents. He hadn’t worked at the school long.

Connor realized that Mr. Weston probably didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

Which was just.

Terrible.

Mr. Weston turned then, looking like he was going to come and talk to Connor, so Connor bolted from his seat. Ran out into the hall to see Jared Kleinman high fiving Brian Harris and his lackeys, including Josh Carter.

“Nice job, Kleinman,” Brian was saying. “Did he cry? I bet he totally fucking cried.”

Jared nodded. “He definitely did. What a pussy.”

Connor didn’t exactly know what happened next.

No that wasn’t true.

He just… felt like he was watching it from far way.

He remembered clenching his fists tightly. His thumbs on the outside.

He remembered trying to count to ten, like if he could make it to ten nothing bad would happen.

He remembered catching Evan Hansen’s eye, and Evan’s face was all red and Connor just knew that Evan had been laughing at him.

And then he was watching from the other side of the room.

What he did know was one minute he was standing outside Mr. Weston’s classroom, and then a moment later Mr. Weston was pulling him bodily off of Brian Harris, who had a swollen lip and a swollen cheek, who was bleeding out of his mouth. And Josh Carter was on the floor too, holding his jaw and groaning loudly, and Jared was slumped against a locker holding his glasses, broken at the nose, looking like he was trying not to cry. Connor’s hands throbbed and so did his head and nose, and then he struggling against Mr. Weston while all of the other kids were staring, shouting every abusive thing he could think into the air, kicking and screaming, “GET OFF OF ME LET ME FUCKING GO I HATE YOU FUCK YOU GET OFF ME GET OFF I’LL KILL YOU YOU FUCKING-”

Another teacher, Mrs. Johnson, dragged Connor away from Mr. Weston by the wrist and he saw through her rough grip that his knuckles were busted and bleeding. She rushed him away from the other kids, down the hall, into the office where she sat him bodily in a chair while shouting at the secretary to call his parents. Connor could still hear them laughing in his head. He also knew he was crying, just crying, and that he couldn’t stop, he could probably never stop.

Connor just stared off into space.

His whole body hurt.

He couldn’t catch his breath.

He wondered distantly if any of the other kids had gotten hurt. If he had hurt them. He didn’t remember.

Everything hurt. He closed his eyes.



He was grounded indefinitely.

And suspended from school for a week.

It might have been longer if Mr. Weston hadn’t confirmed that Connor had been provoked.

But then again, now Mr. Weston was being investigated because apparently the school had to make sure he wasn’t, like, molesting Connor or whatever.

They also searched Connor’s locker and backpack to make sure he wasn’t actually planning to blow up the school. He wasn't. He didn't know how. But nobody was listening to a word he was saying.

Connor had dislocated Josh Clark’s jaw.

Broken Jared’s glasses. Brian Harris needed three stitches in his forehead after what Connor did to him. And he needed to get a chipped tooth repaired. He’d also apparently caused hundreds of dollars in property damage by throwing Connor against a locker hard enough to dent it.Connor heard from his parents arguing that Brian got suspended too. And so did Josh. He thought he heard that Jared was spared.

Connor’s parents hadn’t quit arguing since his dad picked him up at school.

Which was how he knew was really bad. If his mom refused to come get him....

His dad had picked him up and demanded that Connor stop crying, which just made it so much worse.

Zoe came home in tears saying her friend Sabrina Patel had uninvited Zoe to a birthday party because Sabrina’s mom had heard about the fight from some PTA mom and said that Zoe was clearly a bad influence and that Sabrina couldn't hang out with Zoe anymore.

"Why is everything always about you?" Zoe sobbed before she slammed the door in his face.

Connor heard her crying half the night in her room.

He felt awful.

Just terrible.

He didn’t want to leave his bedroom. Ever. He wanted to die.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and felt sick.

Connor a bruise under his eye. Both of his eyes were red, redder than the time he got stoned. His nose was swollen but not broken (the nurse had checked). His hands were beat to hell.

His alien haircut made it worse.

If he stayed in his room he would die. He knew this. He didn't know how.

Connor walked down the stairs.

His mom was sitting on the couch, folding laundry. She looked like she had been crying. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Connor shook his head. He sat down next to her and started to help fold the laundry. Anything to keep from sitting still. Anything to keep from being alone.

“I’m so sorry about what happened at school.”

He nodded, not speaking.

“Your dad… he said…” His mom sighed. “I know that he told you that you shouldn’t be afraid to hit someone back, but. Connor, honey, you can’t hit them first. You could have gotten into a lot more trouble. You could have seriously hurt them.”

“I know,” Connor said. Choked out. His voice was cracking, his throat was burning. He just stared at the shirt in his bruised hands. “I... “ He looked at his mom, knowing how pathetic he was, know how fucking sad he was, “Mom… I.” He swallowed. He was just… just fucking crying. “Mom...why don’t they like me?”

“Oh, sweetie,” His mom said, putting down the towel she was folding to put her arms around him.

“I…” He hiccupped, but he couldn’t stop, he was just crying on his mom’s shoulder now, just so wrecked. His mom rubbed his back and Connor couldn't remember the last time he had let his mom hug him like this. Or at all.

God he was so terrible.

She was crying too, he could tell.

He didn’t mean to be like this.

He tried he really tried.

“I don’t want…” Connor said, but then stopped because it was like someone had punched him in the gut. “I hate this. I hate this… I’m so sorry, mom, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetie, there is nothing wrong with you,” His mom said, hugging him tighter.

But Connor knew she was wrong.

There was something seriously wrong with him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating.

“Connor, please, sweetheart, you don’t have to be sorry… none of this is your fault…”

He hiccuped again. This was utterly humiliating.

He just…

He wanted to die.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

He wanted to die.

“Connor, you don’t really mean that,” His mom said, pulling him away from her, holding out at an arm's length. “You don’t really want to kill yourself.”

He hadn’t meant to say it outloud.

He hadn’t meant her to hear him.

Fuck.

But he couldn’t stop the words now, they were just spewing out of him, and he said, “Yes. I do. I really do. I don’t want to be alive anymore. I want to die. I want-”

“No,” His mom said, and it was so forceful that he immediately shut up. “You’re not doing that, okay? We’ll… we’ll figure something out, okay? I’ll… It’ll be okay.”

He nodded then because what else could he do?

His mom hugged him tightly again. “I love you so much. You’re going to be okay.”

“Love you too,” he mumbled.

But Connor didn’t believe her that things would be okay.

Especially not after he crawled into bed to the sounds of his dad saying that Connor was “obviously only pretending to be suicidal for attention, Cynthia, can't you see that?”