but not because we're gay//treebros

Chapter One

There he was again. Connor Murphy. God, he was gorgeous. He passed Evan's locker every day on his way to science, and he did not go unnoticed. By some people, maybe, but not by Evan Hansen. Unlike Connor, Evan always went unnoticed. But he was used to it. It had always been this way. He had a best friend once, a long time ago. They were absolutely inseparable, until she moved away in the 7th grade. Then, Evan began the downward spiral that led him to where he was now, alone, hopeless, and crushing on the cutest and straightest guy in the grade.

Evan knew Connor would never want him. But God, he was nice too look at. Evan watched those curls gently bounce as he walked down the hall, mesmerized. How could a person be so perfect and so obtainable all at once? Obtainable, Evan thought with a scoff. He's straight, and even if he wasn't, why would he ever want you?

That didn't stop Evan from looking. In fact, he didn't even realize that his eyes were still fixed on Connor until he felt a grip on his arm and his head against the lockers. Evan yelped in pain, his head striking the metal with a boom.

"See something you like, Evan?" a voice said with a chuckle. Evan looked up, wincing, to meet the eyes of Matt. Behind him were his friends, almost like cliche sidekicks, arms crossed, with cockeyed smirks on their faces. Evan's stomach dropped.

One of the cronies, with a chuckle, walked over to Evan, grabbing the jacket that was hanging over his books. Evan reached out to grab it, but he had already taken it back to the other. "That's m-mine," Evan said quietly, knowing they wouldn't hear or care. "So c-can I just please have that back, it's just-" He was interrupted by a sharp pain in his stomach, with which, he realized, Matt's fist had just collided. He doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach, his books spilling all over the hall. He gasped for breath, tears beginning to form in his eyes. The boys laughed. Evan looked up, and he saw them pull his house key from the pocket of his sweatshirt. There goes any chance of getting in tonight. Matt reached down, grabbing the collar of Evan's blue polo and pressing him back up against the lockers. With a hand on Evan's shoulder, he was in control.

"I r-really gotta get to class, sorry, so if I could just-" Evan began, trying to pull away from Matt's grasp. Matt grabbed Evan's other arm, not letting him go anywhere.

"Not so fast, you think I'm fucking done with you? You didn't answer me, what were you looking at?" Evan turned his head back just in time to see Connor disappear around the corner.

Matt followed his gaze. "Connor Murphy, huh?" he said with a laugh. "You fucking faggot, why would he ever want you?"

"Exactly," Evan muttered under his breath.

"What did you just say?" Matt demanded.

"Nothing," Evan whimpered.

"What. Did. You. Fucking. Say?" he pried.

"It doesn't matter, wh-why do you care?"

"Because I want to make sure you know your place in this school, Evan. I want to make sure you know that you're worthless," he hissed, laying his arm across Evan's chest, pushing him harder up against the lockers, letting the hinges dig into Evan's back. "We wouldn't want you thinking any differently, would we?" Evan shook his head no, breathing shakily.

"Then repeat after me," Matt said with a smirk, leaning in close to Evan. "I'm worthless."

Evan looked Matt in the eyes, only inches away from his own. "I'm w-worthless," he whispered, closing his eyes, his breathing hitching.

"Perfect," Matt said sarcastically, mockingly as he took a step back. His friends laughed. Matt turned to leave. But after a few steps he pivoted back around. "Oops, forgot something," he laughed, pulling his arm back, closing his fist, and striking Evan across the face. Hard.

Evan cried out, bringing his hand to his face, dropping to the ground in pain. Matt laughed harder, and strolled away, high fiving his friends. Evan pulled his hand down and looked at it, gasping at the blood staining his palm. A tear slid down his cheek as he wiped it on his shirt, trying to gather his books. But with a defeated whimper, he sunk back against the lockers and sobbed. The bell rang. He was late. He didn't care.