Straightedge!Connor, Diabetic!Evan
Wattpad is being a little shit right now
Connor Murphy was an idiot.
He lived on the south side, outskirts of town, so he had a pretty corrupt mind for someone of his age. He was seventeen years nine months, twenty-four days, nine hours, and thirty-one minutes old. Connor was far from a genius, but when he got bored, he did the math. The numbers kept changing, though, so he kept it on a timer. There was a sense of comfort in knowing how old you are, exactly. It was a sense of peace in the crazy would that Connor was living in. It provided an escape for him, from the crazy men outside his window, selling drugs in an alley. He was used to seeing students at his high school doing drugs.
However, he was not used to seeing the anxiety ridden, probably most down on drugs guy you'll ever meet, Evan Hansen doing them.
Connor became increasingly concerned, as even would just bring out syringes and clear liquids into class. He would take them in the hall, no one giving him a second glance. Connor was worried about him.
—Evan—
Evan Hansen remembered it like it was yesterday.
It was August, and Evan's mother was in between insurance plans when he fell ill. They figured it was just a normal stomach bug. Nothing would come of it. Evan couldn't keep anything down after the Mac and cheese he had for lunch. It was a sad day. His mother had told him to lay down and take a nap, but when he awoke, he felt worse. His mouth was dry, his vision was blurred, he was dizzy, and he really had to pee.
His mother already knew what it was.
She took him to a regular pediatrician, who took one look at the seven year old before saying, "Get him on an ambulance to the children's hospital."
Little Evan was scared out of his mind. The last thing he remembered was being in that ambulance, telling the friendly man his name, and then he came to, three days later in the middle of a hospital room. His family, and his friends from church surrounded him, including his cousin, who had just had her first daughter, Samantha.
Evan liked the toddler. Sam was three months old, and one of the cutest things he had ever seen. He had gotten to know her, because his mother and her husband shared a driveway with Evan. He could walk to their house whenever he wanted.
The baby reached for Evan, but he shook his head, reaching for the large white teddy bear who he had named: Mr. Snuggles. He was given to him by one of his mothers colleagues, Olga.
Evan was confused as to why he was where he was, surrounded by so many people, until it was all cleared up for him.
His doctor waltzed into the room, looked at Evan, and said, "You have type one diabetes." He went on and on about how Evan's body attacked the beta cells in his pancreas, making it unable to produce insulin. He would have to take synthetic insulin via... injection. If he didn't, this would happen again. There would be too much sugar outside of his blood cells instead of inside of it, making his energy go low. The blood would become so thick that it would start to let the sugar out via urine, damaging the kidneys. If the kidneys have sugar spilling through, he would eventually have proteins spilling out. These are called ketones, and they are bad. They basically tell you how much sugar is in the blood via urine. If you have too many, this happens. It's called Diabetic ketoacidosis, or DKA, and if Evan didn't give his insulin shots to himself, his blood would thicken, this could happen again, and it could cause brain damage.
Evan did not like the idea of Diabetes.
But now, ten years later, Evan Hansen had lived with it for so long, that he managed to just put it as second nature. His fingers were scabbed from all of his blood sugar checks, and his backpack was filled with empty or used needles and syringes just begging for a sharps container.
Since he was in between prescriptions on his pens, Evan was back on syringes. He never felt insecure taking his medication in front of classmates, really. It was always a normal thing, but Evan never used syringes for his insulin, and where he lived, it was questionable as anything.
Evan didn't mind. His only friend, Jared Kleinman, knew all about his disease.
Jared had it, too.
In a school of 1,600, there were five diabetics: two seniors, and three freshman.
Evan had been on his own until now, besides with Jared, so it didn't bother him one bit when people asked him about it.
Except today, when Connor Murphy waited by the cafeteria just to ask him why he got into drugs.
That ticked Evan off more than in fourth grade when Alana Beck told him and Jared that they couldn't have any of her birthday cupcakes because she didn't want to 'hurt them.'
"It's not heroin, it's insulin, idiot!" Evan rolled his eyes. Evan stormed off behind him, feeling a tear drop down his cheek. It was days like this when Evan hated his disease. Today, it made him yell at Connor Murphy, one of the most perfect men in the entire LGBT community.
"Wait, Evan!" Connor called, sprinting to catch up with the crying boy. "Evan! I... I'm sorry. I was just worried about you. You seemed down lately and I didn't want to witness that happening to someone.
"Connor, it's fine. It's been ten years, and I still have a pancreas that was like, 'Oh, hey, I'm gonna just... you know... just quit,' and I... I..." Evan was glad they were behind the school in the courtyard. No one went there for lunch. It was an eerie setting. Bare trees and weeds. Evan broke down. "Is bad enough having a life long autoimmune disease, and now people think I'm a druggie? How is that fair, Connor?"
Connor sat next to Evan, laying him down. They stared at the cloudy sky. Connor chuckled. "Because those problems led you to meet me."
—Connor—
Connor felt like an idiot as soon as he'd said it. He had forgotten that other people could have what he had. Connor had spent most of his life a nonnie (non diabetic), until one year, his freshman year, he had to get a physical for drill team, and when they tested his blood glucose, he was at 327. That day he was sent home with a bunch of protocol and procedures to follow, and when he inevitably said, "Fuck that," he wound up in the hospital.
He kept it a secret, always keeping his stuff away from the other diabetics in the nurses office, taking his insulin in the bathroom. Connor was embarrassed to be a diabetic, and it slipped his mind that there were people as open about it as Evan Hansen.
That's why Connor worked hard to get a pump. It looked like a smartphone, or an iPod. Press a button and it injected the amount of insulin required to keep your sugar stable. He got his three months ago, and it was his baby. He named it Roofus.
He felt like an idiot when he laid down next to the crying blonde, putting an arm around him. Connor tried desperately not to ding his pump site. He listened intently as Evan broke down. "The problems led you to meet me."
"What's so amazing about that, Connor? I don't understand!"
"I have it, too."
And at the end of lunch, they still sat there, staring up at the sky, holding hands with calloused, pricked fingers grazing across each other's knuckles. Evan Hansen had Connor Murphy.
Connor Murphy had Evan Hansen
Neither of them had just diabetes anymore.
They had each other.
—a/n—
I may do a prat two of angst and possibly some DKA because hey why not
If it isn't obvious, yes, I am a Type one diabetic, and I've had it for Eight years plus a month and a half.
I'm not bullshitting you guys I'm getting a pump and I'm gonna name it Connor it's gonna be great.
Anyway guys please leave requests, but I'm thinking about that angst because I live angst
It isn't healthy
Hey Marley are ya feelin educated
I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods
-Emily aka Foblvr (ps my phone auto corrects my name to EMILY please help and also wattpad wrote this entire chapter in bold so I had to go and hilight all of it and take off bold and italics this little s h i t)