A/N: Ellie here. The tweets are taken from "You Will Be Found (Reprise)" and Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel, but the wording varies slightly between the two. Of course, I cleaned them up as per our standard policy. When returning to make changes, Ellie added part of the movie's ending because she liked it.
As a canon-compliant DEH one-shot, CW for mentions of suicide and doxxing.
I text my boyfriend, Jared, to ask him to bring the purple hoodie I left at his house last night working on the science project. As I usually do ever since the beginning of my involvement with the Connor Project, I go to my Facebook and type #connorproject. I posted Connor's last words to the Internet in a last-ditch effort to raise money for the Autumn Smile Apple Orchard to reopen in his honor. People have left all sorts of comments.
Have people seen this? Connor Murphy's suicide note.
This is why the orchard is so important, guys.
The whole world needs to see this. Share it with everyone you know.
I just gave fifty dollars for the orchard and I think everyone else should give as much as they can.
He wrote his suicide note to Evan Hansen because he knew his parents couldn't care less.
His parents are insanely rich. Maybe they should have spent their money on helping their son!
Evan Hansen was the only one who was paying any attention.
"And all my hope is pinned on Zoe." Zoe is a stuck-up jerk. Trust me, I go to school with her.
Just contributed another fifty.
Gave forty-one. The age my daughter would be if she hadn't taken her life.
Cynthia Murphy is one of these disgusting women.
Larry Murphy is a corporate lawyer who only cares about money.
Down with the Murphys. Make them feel what Connor felt.
That turned hateful pretty fast, but most harrowing for me is this:
Their house is at the end of the cul-de-sac with the red door. Zoe's bedroom window is on the right. The gate to the back is completely unlocked. I'm not saying to do anything illegal...
Zoe's cell phone number, if my sources are correct.
Ring the doorbell. Keep calling until they answer.
Remorse immediately hits me like a truck, leaving me wounded and broken and helpless on the ground.
Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. How did this happen?
My breaths tumble out as shaky, uneven heaves and gasps, rapid and shallow and painful, above all. Tears start streaming down my face.
I'm a horrible person and I just ruined their lives posting that letter!
Not wanting to see clearly what I've done, I take off my glasses, then fling myself onto my bed and shove my face into my pillow for good measure. "Alana?" Mom calls. "Jared has your hoodie!"
"Tell him to leave it here," I say in a strained, muffled voice. "I'm not up to seeing him."
"What's wrong?" she asks. "Did you fight?"
"No," I say in my most assuring voice given the circumstances. "I just want to be alone now."
Sure enough, he's here when I explicitly said I don't want him to be. "Alana, babe, what's wrong?"
"I'm a horrible person!" My voice cuts out.
"No, you aren't--" he says, patting my shoulder. I turn away abruptly, beginning to pick at my arms.
"Don't lie to me!" I explode. I thrust my phone in front of him so quickly I may as well have thrown it. "I r-" I gulp-- "ruined their lives!"
"Calm down--" he says, untangling my hands.
"You expect me to be calm when some random strangers on the Internet are targeting the Murphys because I posted this?! THEY COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!"
"Please, Laney, just breathe. If you were a horrible person, as you say you are, would you feel so bad about this?" I squeak out a "no," but I don't feel remotely better. He scrolls through the messages. "They're all just blowing off a lot of hot air, okay?"
"They FOUND THEIR HOUSE! This is SERIOUS! How can you possibly say that? Look at you. You can't even come up with a joke to save yourself from facing this!" And at that moment, I knew that I cut far too deep, an awful feeling that comes with a twisted sense of joy.
"Alana--" He blinks in that delicate way that only people trying not to cry can do, then turns away and leaves.
After an indefinite period of time spent lying here just crying, I hear a knock at the door.
"Alana, I called you for lunch a half hour ago--where are your glasses? Did you break up with Jared?" Mom knows that when I take off my glasses, it's usually when I'm too devastated to want to see what's going on.
"No," I whimper. "Worse!"
"Worse?" she asks.
"You know how I was running the Connor Project with Evan? Well anyway, he gave me Connor's suicide note and I posted it even though he begged me not to and now I see it was for good reason because now the Internet is targeting the Murphys and even found their address and it's all my fault!"
"Slow down, honey, and start over."
The words keep pouring from the same place. "And I joined the project, to begin with because they say I'm that intelligent show-off when I really just...forget my audience sometimes so I just decided that it hurt too much to be with people and let myself fade but I feel just...so useless all the time since I became invisible like I'm always wondering when it's my turn to matter so I throw myself into all these projects so I can be useful FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE! Instead, I just made this all about me and if they get killed it will be because I was so desperate to mean something!"
"Oh, Alana, honey, if I had only known...you're in this much pain, and you don't deserve to be." She pauses, then adds, "Don't worry. If anything happens, it won't be your fault. You didn't find their address or post anything hateful. You couldn't have possibly predicted this."
"But...but...Evan TOLD ME NOT TO DO THIS! And now I see why!"
"Perhaps it wasn't because he foresaw this. No one could have. He's a boy just like you. Have you considered that it might be as simple as him deciding that the world has no right to Connor's heart? That the world has no place in Evan's relationship with his best friend, and as such, they don't get to know what Connor said?"
Or it could be worse. The emails are inconsistent...The only reason I'm willing to overlook that is because of the note...but if that's a lie, as I suspected...all my work to mean something was just rendered meaningless. And so was I!
"Mom--" I wail softly, then turn around, hiding in my mint green duvet cover decorated with little white polka dots.
"Hon?"
"What if this was all just a lie? The emails, after all, were inconsistent, and when he showed me the letter, he seemed so desperate to prove he was telling the truth...If this was all just a lie, then my work to mean something no longer means anything!" I leave the implication that now I mean nothing hanging in the air.
She pauses. "The Connor Project touched many, many people. It meant something. And you mean something beyond your work. If its origins turn out to be false, at least you weren't lying. Look at what you used it to say. 'Everyone should matter'? That's the truth everyone should hear!"
"But if none of it is true, then I just perpetuated a lie! That's just as bad, and you know it!"
She shakes her head, then looks down at her phone, which has been beeping for a few minutes now. "My noodles are burning! Have to go get them. Sorry, honey."
Looking at the clock, I see that it's well past Pa's lunch break. He's on a business trip this week and I'm going to have to wait until dinner if I want to call. So now I'm all alone again, nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I scroll through my Facebook wall, hoping I can learn from all the chaos I've caused. Hoping it dissipates.
At school the next day, Jared approaches me. "How are you today, Alana?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes, I'm fine, if you consider 'tense and anxious' fine!" I snap.
"Laney, have you been going on the Connor Project Facebook wall again? It isn't good for you!"
I freeze up. The answer is, of course, a resounding yes. "How else will I learn?" Jared lets me lean into him and drape my head over his shoulder as I go through one more round of tears I can't undo.
"You seem to know already. Don't add more pain to yourself. If anything happens, it won't be your fault, Alana! I just can't believe those people are willing to target strangers without knowing the story." He shakes his head.
"That's what everyone says, but I gave them a reason to!" I say with a hiccup from crying too hard.
"They created their own reasons!" he shouts, fishing in his backpack and pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to me and rubs my shoulders as I take little sips. A flash of guilt shows in his eyes, but I ignore it.
"What if this was all just a lie?" I blurt out. "Like, the letter seemed to be a desperate measure to make me forget the inconsistencies in the emails."
"Alana, babe, I have something to confess to you..." Jared replies, his voice going really soft. I have to strain to hear what he's saying. "The emails?"
"Yes?" I ask with a tentative nod, panicked and fearful.
"I wrote them...I wrote them with Evan..."
"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, JARED?"
"Laney--"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT! YOU FORFEIT ALL RIGHTS TO MY HEART! YOU LIED TO ME FOR THIS LONG! ABOUT SOMETHING THIS IMPORTANT! THE WAY WE MET? ALL BASED ON A LIE. WHAT OTHER THINGS COULD YOU HAVE LIED TO ME ABOUT?" I demand.
"No-nothing!" he stammers.
I used to be afraid of being mistaken for a show-off for using big words, but now intimidating Jared is the effect I'm going for. "EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY PAINSTAKING ENDEAVORS AT BEING SOMETHING OF SIGNIFICANCE HAS BEEN RENDERED USELESS!" My hands ball into fists at my sides. I can hardly breathe.
"Hear me out--"
"STOP IT! YOU HAVE IRREVOCABLY SHATTERED ANY CREDIBILITY YOU ONCE POSSESSED!"
"That would be enough." His eyes plead with me, but I refuse to relent. We go to our classes, and at lunch, I put my head down on the table and cry, unable to eat. I go home in disbelief and sadness and anger. Guess Jared didn't cheat, but honestly, I just might have preferred that to know that all my work to matter doesn't matter at all. He's still every bit as terrible of a traitor.
I delete his contact and refuse to speak to anyone involved with the Connor Project. It's too painful, and Jared was right that it's not good for me to tangle myself further than I already am. I was too shocked to take down the post before, but now that I can think somewhat straighter, I take it down and tell Evan when he calls. This does nothing, however, to reduce the hatred people express for the Murphys, as the note has already done its damage and been spread elsewhere.
I spend the next few days helpless and scared and horrified. I detach myself from the rest of the world--all I want is to be alone. I'm too numb to focus. I'm generally exhausted. Everything is so unreal, and my own thoughts don't even feel like they're mine anymore.
Even though I tell my parents not to do anything, they make an appointment with a counselor for me. I drag myself off and proceed to attend the next few ones since the first actually proved helpful and I would have no choice anyway.
I begin to return to some semblance of normal. Although I don't speak to Evan after telling him I took down the original post, I restore Jared's contact. Nothing happens beyond that.
Evan and I finally speak again. He tells me he's leaving the Connor Project. I call him out for using me and everyone else, announce that we cut ties with him, and pretend he doesn't exist. It's petty and wrong of me, I know. But I am still too profoundly hurt. I threw myself into this wholeheartedly--even to my own detriment at times--and expected nothing from it but to help others and to achieve some feeling of worth, whereas his heart was never in this.
I finish what we started, then feel somewhat empty. Taking a deep breath, I type with shaky fingers.
I'm sorry, Jared.
And I know that being sorry isn't enough.
And I'm not even asking to be forgiven or anything.
I just need freedom.
I don't want this to end without the knowledge that I tried to mend this.
I wait.
Nothing.
School finishes after a few more months, and I spend two weeks beginning work on the latest project I sign on to.
Then July comes, taking with it the toll of Grandma Olivia's death last year. She was my one real friend, and I could tell her just about anything. I spend the days leading up to her death anniversary somber and quiet.
A reply comes out of nowhere. It's been months, so I'm surprised that it's only two words: I'm here. It's clearly meant for someone else. A simple slip of the thumb made him hit my contact, that's all, and he didn't realize the error. Happens often.
I begin to walk to Grandma's grave by myself. The sun mocks my misery as it puts forth nothing but light. I sit down on the grass and try to stay composed, but all my messy emotions come tumbling out. There's a part of me that has never let go of that feeling of being a terrible person, and that part is now screaming at me that she'd be ashamed of me if she were still alive to see what I've done. "I'm sorry!" I whisper-yell into the headstone. "I'm sorry..."
I can barely see, but I pull out my phone, scroll to Jared's contact, and quietly dictate a text. "Visiting Grandma. Can't handle it. Come get me." I don't expect him to show, but I need--someone.
Several minutes passed by. I've never felt so alone and in need of comfort. The only words I could utter were apologies. The worst thing about regret is knowing you will never get the time back. I may never change the fact that I'm a failure. I softly cry until I hear a voice behind me.
"I'm here for you." Jared? I turn around in shock.
"You came?" I ask in a shaky, small voice. Not thinking twice, I run into his arms, breaking into sobs. He doesn't push me away.
"I'm sorry if I wasn't here before, but I'm here now, Laney."
He holds me wordlessly for the longest time until I finally calm down, carrying all my untold, heavy parts for me after these difficult months spent trying to bear them on my own.
I pick up my head, smile at him bittersweetly, and turn to look him in the eye. "I love you." My words go beyond appreciation.
"I love you too, Laney. I always have."