Slivers of Light in the Darkness of Life

1. Prologue

A/N Hi. I'm GirlGoneRogue1. This actually my first time writing a DEH story. It's also my first time writing a story on Wattpad. One reason I wanted to write a DEH story is because, like Evan Hansen, I'm a big messy ball of anxiety. I tend to overthink things, trip over my words, and cause my own anxiety. There will be mentions of love, attempted suicide, anxiety attacks, drug use, and domestic abuse throughout this story at different times. I do not own any of the characters or songs in this story, they all belong to the beautiful creators of this wondrous and magical musical. Almost forgot! Trigger warnings: References to domestic abuse, drug use, attempted suicide, and swearing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or songs.

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"It's not like anyone'll notice or even care if I disappeared. I've never made a difference in the world, I've never mattered. The world will just keep on spinning." He sighed. Evan Hansen was sitting on a high branch, his breathing ragged and his limbs scratched raw from climbing the tall oak the thick branch belonged to. His short honey blonde hair was waving around with the slowly dying leaves, courtesy of the wind, and his azure blue eyes were dark with depression and the knowledge of what he was about to do. His dull eyes slowly closed as he took a deep breath, his lips shaking as he exhaled. He repositioned himself a little towards the end of the branch, a slight cracking sound as he moved.Then, he pushed on the branch, the uneven bark cutting into the skin of his fist as the branch broke, sending Evan careening to the ground. The teen plummeted to the grassy, dirt floor far below, the wind pulling him this way and that. As a tear flew from his face into the strong wind, a single thought crossed his mind. "When you're falling in a forest, and there's nobody around, do you ever really crash or even make a sound?"

He bolted upright from the floor, his arm pulsing in pain. Just as he slammed to the ground, he'd awoken from what had been a nightmare. He looked around the living room, one sweaty hand on his cast. He was home, the lights were off, his mother was still asleep. It was just a dream. A dark look came across his ashen face, his eyes becoming a dark storm of emotion. "Well, sorta." He thought miserably. Using his good arm, he untangled himself from the nest of blankets on the hardwood floor and got up carefully, making sure not to move his left arm too much. While gingerly getting ready, he thought back to after he landed.

Just before Evan had made contact with the ground, a huge gust of wind had come out of nowhere and flipped him around like a ragdoll again, so his arm took the brunt of the fall. When he landed, he felt his entire body hit the uneven dirt, and his left arm went numb with indescribable pain. When he turned his head, the pain of moving causing him to wince, he saw the unnatural way it was bent. He'd looked back up into the sky and hoped beyond logic that someone would find him. He scoffed. "Who would want to come to the park on a cloudy, cold, windy afternoon..." He thought to himself. "...why didn't it work...why am I still breathing...Why couldn't I even kill myself correctly..." he started sobbing, tears rushing down the sides of his face and onto the ground like anguished rapids. He stayed like that for a while, still hoping someone, anyone would find him. Finally, having had enough, he slowly got up, his body screaming at him, making him whimper in pain. His legs and right arm we're scratched, bleeding, and bruised, his right arm hung limply; a dull numbing ache coursing throughout the pale limb.

Evan shook his blonde covered head to clear it, wishing all of it were truly just a horrible nightmare. After he finished cleaning himself up and dressing, he looked at his laptop; it was still open, the screen showing the beginning of a letter addressed to himself. His therapist, Dr. Sherman told him it would help him build his self-confidence and help make talking to others easier. The troubled boy sighed. He had social anxiety, a mental illness that made it difficult to function while interacting with other individuals. Sometimes he'd trip over his words and stutter, making him sound stupid. Or he'd do something stupid, like waving to someone who'd actually been calling to someone behind himself, causing the other two individuals to give him strange looks and whisper to each other. But whatever happened, his hands always, ALWAYS got really sweaty, making handshakes awkward, and causing him to be a bit of a clutz. He was Evan Hansen. The "weird kid", the "crazy guy who had to take medication to be normal."