Dear Evan Hansen Oneshots

oop

I still love him.

I do.

There's no part of me that doesn't love him. There's no part of me that can deny it, either.

I love him.

It repeats in my head like a broken record; I love him.

But, you see, that's the problem. I love him more than anybody could possibly guess. I want to be able to hold his hand again. I want to be able to wrap my arms around him and hug him as tight as I possibly can without having to say no homo after. I want to kiss him and bury my head into his shoulder and hold him while he sleeps without it being creepy.

So, if I love him so much, why did I break up with him? We were happy.

He's still happy. He's moved on.

So why aren't I happy?

I'm glad that he's happy. He deserves to be happy. He's not being a petty ass that can't accept the fact that it's totally, completely, a hundred percent over.

I groan into my pillow.

There's a knock on my bedroom door. My mom's at work. Who the fuck would be here to see me at eleven at night?

"The fuck do you want?" I say.

"It's me."

Evan.

Evan?

Even though I don't want to, I stand up, opening the door. Evan's standing in the doorway, his hands in his jean pockets. Dark bags sit under his puffy eyes, and his cheeks are tear-stained. I resist the temptation to hug him.

"Hey," He says, unsure of himself, which brings it to sound more of a question than a greeting.

"Hey." I pause. "Are you... Okay?" He just stands there for a second, looking at his shoes, before looking back up at me and shaking his head.

"No," He says, his voice cracking. He's shaking. "It's not okay. Nothing's okay, not okay at all, it's-" He mumbles something inaudible, and he talks so fast that I can barely hear what he's saying.

"You're going to have to speak up," I say, leaning on the door frame.

"I LOVE YOU!" He screams, his face turning bright red. Tears seem to fall faster now, and his breath hitches as his eyes widen. I open my mouth, searching for something, anything that I could possibly squeeze out in this situation, but nothing happens. "Listen, Jare, I, I love you, and I never stopped loving you, and you, you mean the world to me, you're fucking everything, and I know you broke up with me so I don't even know what I'm saying right now, but when, when you did, it- it felt like I lost... Everything." He says, his voice wobbly. I just stand there, my face heating up. I keep trying to talk, but the words mix themselves up in my brain, refusing to make a sentence, and no sound leaves my mouth matter how hard I beg. I just shake my head, leaning down just enough to connect our lips.

He kisses back, his lips soft and his kiss sweet, and at this moment, I decide that I now know what heaven feels like. We part, and he wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face into my chest and inhaling deeply. I run my hand through his hair, trying to even out my breathing.

"I love you too," I whisper.

"Why did you break up with me?" He whimpers, grabbing onto the fabric of my shirt. 

"I didn't think you cared."  

"I do. I care so much." 

"I missed you," I say, quietly. He nods. 

"I...missed you too."

 He lets go of me, staring into my eyes. I stare back. A couple of seconds passes, and then he rapidly shakes his head, huffing. "I have to go. I just, I had to tell you." He presses a quick kiss against my lips and spins around on his heels, spluttering a quick "Bye, love you!" And rushing downstairs, leaving me a mess of emotions. 

I still love him.

I do. 

And he loves me back.