Chapter Text
I guess it’s true that you find something new about yourself everyday. But what if that new is just… wrong? Self-discovery is supposed to be positive, so why isn’t this one? Fuck it, why do I like boys. Why am I a fag? If only I were normal. Actually—scratch that. I’ve come to terms that I’ll never be. If only I were the opposite gender, I would’ve genuinely had a chance with him.
Evan Hansen, I hate how you are as straight as a fucking ruler. I hate your stupid face when you see Zoe Murphy. I hate how she isn’t me, and I’ll never be who you’ll pine for.
I wish you were gay, or something. I wish that you never went to that jazz band concert. I wish I could tear Zoe Murphy out of the picture. I wish you wanted me.
I sound like a loser.
I turn to look at your face, your eyes are pinned on Zoe. All your hope is pinned on Zoe at this point. You say you just wanted to “help the Murphy’s” with Connor’s death, and it’s going pretty well for you, huh? I hope you know it isn’t going as well for me. First I find out I’m a fucking homosexual, and that is extremely wrong, and I’ll never get accepted by anyone in my family.
My skin starts to burn. As if I deserve to rot just because I don’t love the opposite gender.
Secondly, I have a stupid, sappy, unrequited—crush on you. I’ll never get those feelings reciprocated, because you are Zoesexual, or some shit. You just want Zoe. I hate that.
Thirdly, because of my stupid sappy little crush on you, I feel weird everytime I see you. My cheeks warm up, suddenly I stutter over my words, and my brain just fails and goes on autopilot. Don’t you realize I wanted to write more emails just so I could hang out with you? And yet, you turned me down—every single time.
It hurts Evan, what hurts more is knowing you’ll never want me.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s, and I plan to just carry on with my day as if there’s no special occasion while spiraling through my thoughts thinking no one will ever like a loser like me. (But no one needs to know that.)
“Jared, what do you think I should get Zoe for Valentine’s day?” Evan asks.
“Evan I wouldn’t really know that, it’s your girlfriend.” My voice quivers as I say the word girlfriend.
“What do girls like?”
“I dunno man, I’m gay.” My words spill out like it’s nothing. What did I just blurt out? What the fuck? Oh my god he’s gonna hate me.
My head is spinning. He’s gonna think I’m a weirdo. I spiral through so many thoughts, my breathing starts to get faster and faster—why isn’t my internal monologue as smooth as I pretend to be? I genuinely sound like an idiot. How do I get this little shit out of my head?
Evan blinks, slowly—he opens his mouth, then closes it. I know he sees me panic. That pause is enough to drive me insane, I’ve messed up, and god, I don’t even want to go to school anymore. The bell rings, and I bolt down the hallway to English class.
English class is hell. It’s like there’s something crawling under my skin. Itching and biting at me, reminding me how horrible that interaction was. And now I have to sit in class for the next hour with this feeling. Why does this week have to go so wrong? It would’ve gone a little less worse but I impulsively spat out the fact I am fucking gay, to Evan, which I have a weird fuckass homosexual crush on.
I can still feeling the crawling under my skin. It’s now starting to burn, and I’ve been holding back the heavy urge for me to pick and scratch at it. It just keeps gnawing at me. God, make it stop. It’s as if it’s reminding me that I screwed up big time. I know that, and I need my inner voice to shut the fuck up.
I overhear someone in the room talk about Valentine’s day and it just sends me mentally back into that awkward, infuriating interaction. My hands tighten around the pen I’m writing with, I’m sure it’ll snap in half. And I briefly panic. I notice that the clock is ticking too loud. I know it isn’t but with the weight of the situation, everything is overwhelming.
By the time it reaches break, I’m nowhere to be found. I’m in a bathroom stall, spiraling through my thoughts, on the verge of tears. That’s until Evan barges in and screams: “Jared!”
“How the fuck did you know I was here?” I say aggressively, my voice shaking—failing to hide the fact my feelings are nearly about to take over and let the waterworks flow. I want to scream at him, shove him out of the bathroom even, but my emotions take over and a faint sob escapes my mouth.
“Jared...” He only says my name, but it’s in that soft tone that’s enough to make my chest feel heavy.
“Don’t— Don’t say my name like that. God, Evan I’m sorry I fucked a normal conversation up.” I choke out, vulnerably.
“I’ve been horrible emotionally recently, maybe it’s because—” I pause. I make an attempt to think before I speak, but the words spill out, again. “I have a stupid fucking crush on you. It’s embarrassing to admit. I like you more than you could imagine, and all I've been thinking about is how I'd get brutally rejected because you have Zoe—and I know you’ve wanted her since…forever. This is so stupid, everything is stupid, fuck, I’m sorry again.”
“...I didn’t know—”
“How were you supposed to?!” My voice breaks.
“It’s not like I didn’t care, you’re still—”
“I’m still what, Evan? Still a friend you care about, even if you’ve pushed me aside multiple times?! Still the guy you’ll never look at the way you look at Zoe?”
“Why do you keep mentioning Zoe?!”
“Because I’ve wanted to be her since middle school, Evan! I’ve wanted you to look at me in that way. I’ve wanted you to want me!”
“And I hate myself for it, Evan. It makes me feel like a horrible person.”
“Jared, I don’t hate you but—”
“Fuck you Evan, I don’t want pity, I want someone to love me.” I bite the sides of my cheek.
“That- that wasn’t pity! Jared, I don’t fucking hate you! I hate how you put yourself down because of me! Then I guess I’m not the right person, Jared, I’m sorry!” He sounds like he’s about to break. The thing is—I already have. And to avoid all of this, I suppose the only option is to make a run for it.
And so I bolt. As fast as I can, in hopes I reach somewhere where Evan can’t find me.