stars in our eyes | evan hansen x reader

3.

You scrambled to the empty desk, praying the class didn't notice how your eyes had popped out of your head. You stared at the ground and sat in your seat, not daring to take another look at the boy sitting next to you.

Mrs. Carter stood at the wooden podium and started her lecture. She didn't have a Powerpoint; her notes were scrawled on the chalkboard in seven columns of neat white print.

"Are her notes always this... archaic?" you asked under your breath.

"Yep," said a voice.

Your head jerked up. You didn't realize anyone could hear you. You peered over at him, taking him in.

So, that was definitely Evan Hansen. Otherwise, it was Ben Platt's secret twin. But your money was on Evan. He didn't have a cast on his arm, but he was wearing the iconic blue-striped polo from the cover of the cast album and the beginning of the show.

"I'm Y/N," you said, hoping your hadn't been staring long enough for it to be creepy.

"Evan," he whispered. His hushed voice brought you back to reality, reminding you that you were in class and that you really didn't need to be called out, especially on your "first day". But it also confirmed everything you'd suspected and ushered in a gajillion more questions.

There was no way you could listen to Mrs. Carter's lecture on Dwight D. Eisenhower's foreign policy. Your head was buzzing.

Questions danced in and out of your head for the next half an hour. Theories from alternate dimension to I was drugged to I'm still drugged to magic is real, because what the hell this is Evan Hansen; Evan Hansen is a fictional character.

Finally, Mrs. Carter snapped you out of it.

"Okay kids, there's ten minutes of class left. You need to pick groups and topics for your Cold War projects. Singles or pairs. The topic list is on the wall."

You knew what you had to do, because, well, hello, a fictional character was beside you in the flesh and you weren't going to get any answers from these random students or from learning about Joseph Stalin.

You turn to Evan. "Wanna be partners?"

He looked at you, shocked. "Um, sure," he answered, totally unsurely.

Another batch of nerves set in as he looked at you. You looked at the ground.

"So, do you want to at your house or my house?" Evan asked.

"Oh, uh..." You realized, once again, that you had no idea what school or town you were in and had approximately nowhere to live or sleep or work on history projects with cute boys from musicals. "Your house sounds good." You continued, your voice quickening with an easy lie, "JustbecausemyhouseissofullofboxesyouknowbecauseIjustmovedhere?"

Evan barely gave you a look, just nodding and asking, "Is tonight good?"

"Tonight's great."