Comma After Dearest?

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This one's Kleinsen if y'all care


Evan's POV

Dear Jared Kleinman,

I pause. Erase what I've written.

Dear, Jared Kleinman

I stop again and stare at the computer screen, which is filled by three simple words, and a comma that I am unsure how to place. I think it over for a long time, and then decide:

Dear Jared Kleinman

There we go. No comma at all means no problems.

Well, technically that's not true because what I write next could very easily cause some problems. Especially since it's to Jared. I can never get anything right with him.

Remember that one time, back in fifth grade, when our teacher put us into pairings and asked us to agree on what words were the hardest to say? Remember what we came up with? Worcestershire sauce. We thought we were so smart to be able to almost-pronounce it.

But I think we were wrong. I think there are two sets of words that are much more difficult to say, no matter how hard it is to say Worcestershire sauce.

I let out a laugh, then continue writing the email.

The first is, "I'm sorry." And... Even though it's hard to say, I'm going to say it, Jared. I am so, so sorry. I did and said a lot of unforgivable things. I don't want to overestimate my value, but I always wonder if I hurt you badly. I always wonder if you took what I said and burned it into your heart and brain, and let it sit there as a reminder of how bad it hurt. Maybe I do that because I've been in a similar position. You know, minus the identity theft and stuff. But. Even though I did a lot of things that could have hurt you, and even though I said some things that could have hurt you even worse than that, I want to say it again. I'm sorry. I am so incredibly sorry. If you'll hear it, I ask for forgiveness. Not right away, of course. Take your time. But I don't want to go for forever knowing you hated me until your dying breath.

The second thing. The second thing is "I love you." Love is one of the most difficult things to express, I think. But, tell me I'm insane, and tell me that I should probably never show my face in public ever, ever, ever again. I don't care. I've been stomped on a lot of times. I can take one more. Just... I love you. Full homo. Take that however you want.

Sincerely,
Evan Hansen


Jared's POV

That... I don't even know what to call him. I've already cussed him out to his face, anyways.

Dear Evan Hansen,

I think you're wrong, first of all. The weird sauce that I dunno how to spell is definitely more difficult to say. But, you aren't going to believe me unless I make a point.

Sorry. That one's the easier of the two. I'm sorry that I've been difficult for so long. And I'm sorry I used you as a punching bag. Sorry for pressuring you into the behavior that led to the destruction of pretty much anyone you can think of who knows about your lies. See? I said sorry, no problem.

In all honestly, that took me 45 minutes to phrase correctly, but he doesn't need to know that.

Second, I love you.

You don't get to do this Evan. You don't get to say the things you said to me and then say you love me and expect me to send you love in return. I hate it. I hate it so much. You're insane. You can't tell me you love me just when I was about to stop. Just when I thought maybe I was done with being head over heels for you. In love. So there it is, Evan. I LOVE YOU. And I think I always have. But I have to know you mean it, Evan.

No more emails. Say it to my face.

Sincerely,
Jared Kleinman

I send the email and shut my laptop. Stand up off the floor and grab my car keys.

And I drive to Evan's house.

When I arrive, I climb out of my car and walk to his doorstep, trying to decide what I should say to him. But he does the talking for me when he answers the door.

"Jared!" He says. "I, um, I didn't know you were coming I would have changed out of my pajamas! Sorry. I was being kind of lazy, sorry. Why are you here?"

I look up at him and just stare into his eyes. Trying to discern what I'm supposed to say now.

"I just want to know if you meant it." I whisper.

"Every word." Evan replies.

"Really?" I hate how desperate, how clingy and needy I sound.

"How can I prove it?"

I glance up at him again, and he meets my eyes, and he knows. He knows what I want, despite what I want being very romance-novel-cringey.

He steps out his door, and puts his hands on my shoulders, and he pulls me to him and our lips meet and it's like heaven.

When he pulls away, he smiles a little. "Do you believe me yet, Jared?"

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