Help~Sincerely Three (a Dear Evan Hansen fanfiction) COMPLETED

Chapter Seventeen-Something's Wrong (Reprise)

The first part of this chapter is the same bUt it's different so

Trigger Warning

I'm scared. I'm really fucking scared. We got Jared's brother's phone number, and he said that Jared was doing alright.

Did I do something to piss him off?

Maybe he just isn't talking to me. Maybe he's secretly talking to Evan and they're hopelessly in love and neither one of them gives one crap about me and my feelings and fucking god, what am I even saying? They wouldn't do anything like that. Especially the statr he called me in last night, Evan is just as worried and Jared-deprived as I am.

I'm so fucking lost. Why can't there be a map for these things? It's almost like I'm living by one of those hard to read Chinese instruction manuals.

Tears sting my eyes, and I feel them roll down my cheeks. Why am I crying? I don't even know why I'm crying. Life is fucked. Barely thinking, I walk into my bathroom, shutting the door and reaching into the cupboard. I won't do that many. I just, I need to feel pain, okay? I need to bleed. Once I have what I need, I sit on the toilet seat, staring at the tiny razor I have in my hand. Evan and Jared would be upset, but, it's not like they'll find out.

Fuck it, I think to myself, turning my arm over and sliding the metal across my already-scarred up skin. I wince at the familiar stinging feeling, my fat-ass tears falling to the ground with little 'plip-plops' as a sense of relief rushes through my body.

Look, I get it. Unhealthy coping skills or whatever. I don't really care.

I watch as tiny drops of blood seep out of the cut I made, exhaling. It's almost like fifty extra pounds have been lifted off of my shoulders. I make another cut.

And another one.

And ano- okay, you get the point.

There's a bang on the door, and I jump, quickly tugging down my hoodie and squeezing the razor into my palm. A piercing pain shoots through my hand and I yelp, dropping it onto the ground.

"Connor, what are you even doing in there? I'm going to see my friend, I need to get something!" Zoe whines from the hallway, once again banging on the door. I bite my lip, bawling my injured hand into a fist as blood runs down my hand. I shove it into my pocket, and with my other hand, I turn the door handle and pull it towards me. Zoe is standing there, a pissed expression on her face. And she's wearing... makeup? I mean, she usually wears makeup, but not this much. I feel my eyes widen.

"Woah, where the hell are you going like that? And why are you wearing a fancy-ass dress?" I ask, crossing my arms and raising a brow. Zoe frowns.

"It's not your business. And, am I not allowed to wear something nice for once? Jeez." She snaps, and I shrug, moving out of her way. She takes a step into the bathroom but quickly stops in her tracks. "Connor," she says slowly, not turning around.

"What?" I ask.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Wha-"

Oh.

Well, fuck.

Why am I such an idiot?

"It's nothing, Zoe," I say quickly, pushing past her and grabbing the razor from off of the floor, stuffing it into my pocket.

"Obviously it is! What happened to your hand?!" I let out a long-ass groan.

"It was an accident!" She gives me a disbelieving look.

"I'm calling Jared," She says, and I almost laugh.

"Yeah, I doubt that's going to do you any good."

"Wait. Evan texted me at, like, six in the morning."

"What does it say?" I ask.

"'Tell Connor that I love him..'" She says slowly, looking up at me.

Ignoring her confused look, I go down the stairs so fast that I almost slip. Opening the door, I hop over the steps of my front porch, sticking a two-foot landing (take that, past Connor) and quickly dashing down the drive-way and to my car. Ignoring the blood still flowing violently out of my palm, I grab my keys, unlocking the Jeep doors and quickly hopping into the driver's seat. Once I'm settled, I take my phone from my pocket.

Jared, it's important

It's really fucking important Jared, something might be wrong with Evan

You have to answer

I tap the call button. It rings twice.

"He called me," Jared says quietly. His voice is muffled, and it sounds like he's been crying. "He called me last night and if anything happened to him it's my fucking fault."

"Jared, he's probably fine, we can go and check on hi-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, no, I can't. I can't do that. I-"

"Jared. We can talk about this later, okay? Right now, Evan is what's important. Evan. I'm picking you up, like, right now."

"Okay," He chokes out, his voice wobbly. I want to hug him.

"Jared, everything's going to be fine. I'm on my way, okay? I love you."

"I love you too."