Sincerely, Me {A Dear Evan Hansen FF}

{3}

Dear Connor Murphy,

Really? You like talking with me? I thought I'd be too boring for you..

Sincerely,
Me

I hit the send button and smiled to myself. He likes talking with me. He really does. Or.. what if he's just saying that? No. he can't be. He wouldn't hurt me like that. Would he?

~~~

I laughed to myself, sloppily pulling the pack off the shelf. I took another out and lit it up, putting it into my mouth.

"Connor! Open a window!"

"Go awayyyyy." I slurred back.

"Connor open this door right now."

"Nahhh I'm good."

I pulled the laptop onto my lap and read his email, quickly but sloppily typing back, hands shaking, head throbbing. Thoughts swarming my head.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Hahaaa no one even gives a shit about me soo yeah I love taljing with youuuu. Why woild I nottt? You're lile the cutest little cinnamon roll evahh

Sincerely,
Your hot boyfroenddd

I took my cigarette out and blew the smoke in the air. Grinning. Why am I acting like this? What's wrong with me? I'm not high. I can't be.

"Connor (insert middle name here) Murphy. Open this door right now." I heard my mother say.

I sluggishly put my laptop on my desk and punch the door. "Go the hell away woman!"

"Language Connor!"

"ENGLISH!" I yell back.

"Just open the door. Please."

"No."

"Fine." I hear her sigh and walk away. God finally.

I walk over to my laptop and put it into my backpack. I grab the rest of the pack and shove it in my pocket, along with the lighter and walk over to my window.

I open it up and climb outside. Onto my roof. I climb all the way to the top and sit there. Pulling the cigarette back out of my mouth I blew smoke into the air. Looking at the sky. Watching the sun as it made its way closer to the horizon.

~~~

I was a mess.

A red, sweaty, blushing mess.

Okay, I know he's probably drunk or high because he would never say this. He wouldn't purposely spell something wrong. But he still called me cute and said: 'Sincerely your hot boyfroenddd.' Sure it's spelt wrong and some letters are spammed. So that must mean he's high or drunk.

Slowly, I started to reply.

Dear Connor Murphy,

Are you drunk? Or high? I'm sorry I just.. you seem like the person who wouldn't spam letters or call me cute or say you're my boyfriend.

Sincerely,
Me

I sighed and lay back in my bed. Biting my lip I rub my hands over my face. Ugh.  My life just got so more interesting, not that he's apart of it.

~~~

One more left. Dammit.

I heard the laptop ding so I pulled it out. Holding the last of the one in my mouth I muttered a few creative curses about how there was only one left. I read the email over and over.

Was I high? Or drunk?

But I didn't drink.. so not drunk.

I smoked a lot. I might be high. No. I can't be.

Or am I just freaking out? Is this my minds attempt to tell me to stop and think for a moment? I did just smoke a pack. A whole pack. I've never gotten high off cigarettes before so why now? Is it even possible? No, it can't be.

Who even gives a shit.

He cares. He really cares. No one cares.. except him. He cares about me. Me.

Or is he just faking this?

He probably is. I shouldn't get my hopes up. There's no point. He'll end up forgetting about me. He'll end up moving on.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Haha sorry.. um .. I was having a .. what's it called? Breakdown or some weird shit like that. I'm not drunk and I'm not high. I promise. Oh and you are a little cinnamon roll.

Sincerely,
Me

I yawned and threw the stub of the cigar off the side of the roof. Lazily I grabbed the last one and lit it, looking at the sinking sun for what felt like for forever.

~~~

I was biting at the inside of my cheek, waiting to hear that unfamiliar ding. It took awhile but it finally came. I quickly read it, sighing in relief he wasn't drunk or high. Wait. Did he..

Oh my god. He just.. called me a cinnamon roll.

Is that good?

I think it might be.. cause cinnamon rolls are sweet so maybe he's calling me sweet?

I rub my hands over my face and start to type back.

Dear Connor Murphy,

Are you still having the breakdown? Where are you? You're okay right?

Sincerely,
Me

I sighed, staring at what I just sent. What if he thinks I'm weird. Okay he probably already thinks I'm weird.. but like more weird than I am now. God I hope not.

~~~

I was half way through the cigarette when I heard the ding. The ding I have been hearing for at least an hour and a half now. I'm surprised he's wanted to talk to me for this long. Why would anyone?

I read his message, over and over in my head.

Wow.

He really is worried.

I blow some smoke out before I start to type, putting the cigarette back in my mouth.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Yeah a little. On my roof. I think so. I'm smoking and that always helps.

Sincerely,
Me

I sent it, wondering how he's been reacting too these. Probably thinking: what a weirdo drugaholic this kid is, well I guess I'll give him fake sympathy.

Why can't I have anyone? Just please. Anyone. I don't care who. Anyone to actually care what happens to me. Someone who will comfort me. Someone who will make me smile. Someone who will make me happy. Some who will make this horrible life worth fucking living.

I sighed, tears starting to come up but I wiped my eyes before they could fall. I haven't cried in a long time and I don't plan to anytime soon. I sniffle, taking my cigar out and blowing smoke into the air.

~~~

~Fro