Drowning | Evan Hansen X Reader

II: Restless and Rageful

If there's one class I can't stand, it's English class. Why? Because that class involves a lot of social interaction, especially if you get stuck with Ms. Ellison. She's a bit crazy when it comes to this stuff. Last Halloween, she dressed up as Shakespeare and forced us to pick and recite one of Shakespeare's sonnets from memory, then decode what it means in front of the entire class. Things are pretty intense with Ms. Ellison.

But for the first day of school, she decided to "go easy on us" as she described it. So instead of planning out a speech and presenting it to the class as she'd normally do, we had a "relaxing" icebreaker.

She gave us a sheet filled with questions that we had to answer. Near the end of class, we'll share out.

Frankly, it was relaxing for everyone else. The other students joke around with their friends while they write in their answers. But for me, it was stressful. Part of it is because I don't know how to answer these questions (let alone answer them in front of the whole class), but part of it is because (Y/N) happens to be in this class as I am.

It's sixth period, right after my lunch. I hadn't seen her since our little encounter this morning, so maybe she did get locked out of the school like I thought she would.

I have a clear view of her from where I'm sitting. She's in the back right corner of the room, sitting alone and not doing the work Ms. Ellison assigned. Ms. Ellison doesn't even try to tell (Y/N) to do her work; she's known (Y/N) long enough to know she's not one who complies with authority.

So there she is, listening to music on her headphones and staring at the clock. Her hood is pulled so far over her head that I'm not even sure she can see the clock. She rarely blinks, and you'd think her bloodshot eyes need a rest.

I'm not sure if she'd noticed me yet, but I really hope she hasn't. It would be very awkward. I think I've had enough run-ins with (Y/N) for this week. Maybe this entire year.

I can barely concentrate. But I'm forced back into reality when I hear a voice over my shoulder.

"How's it going Evan?" the familiar voice of Ms. Ellison asks. She looks over my shoulder to look at my mostly-empty paper, then frowns. "It's nothing too hard, is it? Just a couple of questions."

I shake my head frantically. "No, no, it's- it's fine, Ms. Ellison. I'm just a little distracted... I mean not distracted, but a little tired I guess."

She nods, showing that she understands. "I guess we all are, Evan. And you'll be going off to college soon! You're almost there, Evan. Just a little bit longer."

She gives me a good-natured pat on the back, then continues to stroll around the classroom, leaving me to my mostly-blank paper. I fix my bad posture and read question four.

4) What is your ideal vacation spot?

Well, that should be easy enough. Somewhere deep in the woods where I no one can find me. Somewhere all alone with no one around. Somewhere I can fall, and see if I even make a sound.

Losing interest in the questions once more, I find myself gazing up at (Y/N) again. I'm surprised and frightened when I see her looking back at me. She quickly looks away and fixes her gaze back on the clock. I feel a bit embarrassed, so I drop my stare temporarily.

I want to apologize — I really do. But she isn't exactly approachable, is she?

Some of the kids who are known assholes start to poke fun at (Y/N), and I watch from afar. They're really trying to get a reaction out of her.

"(Y/N), how was your summer? Did your family go on some expensive trip to Japan or Germany or something? Or did you just stay locked up in your room smoking weed all day like a weirdo?" one boy says.