Dear Heather (M)

                                    

                                          
Here's today's chapter: A Dear Evan Hansen AU! Let me know if you want a part 2! TW//suicide, suicidal thoughts, hinted at depression, swearing

                          
Dear Heather (M),
                          
Today is going to be a good day, and here's why:
                          
Nothing. I had nothing. Why was this a good day? It wasn't. I sighed and hauled myself up, closing the tab to finish at school.
                          
I passed my parents fighting again. Maybe it was horrible to think, but why couldn't they just get a divorce? It would be a lot easier. But they always insisted that they could 'make it work'. Maybe they could.
                          
School was- well, it wasn't the best. "How'd you break your arm?" Ah, bluntness. Hello, Heather Duke. My only friend. Heather Chandler had moved to Maine in middle school. Heather and I were at the bottom of the school food chain.
                          
"Oh, well I was climbing a tree, and uh," I babbled. I had never gotten rid of my stutter fully, but had managed to tame it, at least a little. "I fell, like all the way from the top, b-"
                          
"Oh look, you're definitely-not-a-crush, Veronica Sawyer," Duke teased, cutting her off. I whipped around quickly. Veronica and J.D. Sawyer, brother and sister. J.D. was mysterious, sure, but Veronica. Wow.
                          
"Loving the coat," Duke yelled to him. He turned around, eyes blazing. Uh oh. "Very school shooter chic." J.D. darkened. Duke, a little fazed, laughed nervously. "A joke... it was a joke."


                          
"Oh yeah," he said. At that moment, she was reminded of the fact that this was the psycho who fired blanks on Kurt and Ram junior year. "A joke. Am I not laughing hard enough for you?" Heather took a step back, trembling in her green boots. She still found it in her to scoff and roll her eyes.
                          

"You're such a freak," she said, walking hurriedly away to her homeroom. J.D. was fuming. He looked a lot like Veronica, I realized. Her hair was brown, not black, though, and her eyes still had a flicker of compassion. His didn't.
                          
"Why are you staring at me?" he demanded, stepping closer. His eyes were bloodshot. High, or just sleep deprived? He stepped into my personal space. I stumbled backwards. "You think I'm a freak?"
                          
"N-Nothing! Really, it isn't- I-I don't-" 
                          
"You're the freak!" he yelled, shoving me to the ground. My books scattered across the hall. His eyes met mine, and he swore, before whirling away. I blinked. 
                          
"Sorry about my brother. He's psycho." Veronica. She was talking to me. Veronica Maria Sawyer was talking to me. Homeroom had started. That meant she was skipping for me. "Hello?" 
                          
"O-Oh, um, he's... not that bad?" I could hear the question in my voice. Veronica raised an eyebrow as she gathered my books.
                          
"You don't have to lie. I hate him too." She handed me my books, and started walking away. "Bye, then," she said, waving over her shoulder. I looked after her as she left. I was late to homeroom, but whatever. I could skip. It was my first time.
                          
┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

                          
Dear Heather (M),
                          
Today is not going to be a good day, and here's why: because I never have a good day. Maybe if I'd just try harder, everything would be okay. And maybe it wouldn't. Who knows?

                          
Veronica is my only chance. If I could just get through to her, set aside my - well, my everything - maybe things would get okay. And maybe it wouldn't. Who am I kidding, it's never going to get better. Veronica is my one hope, and she's just as out of reach as finally being happy.
                          
Who would miss me if I disappeared tomorrow? Would anyone even notice? Because when you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around, do you ever even crash or even make a sound?
                          
Sincerely,
                          
Me
                          
I hit print before I could change my mind. I would smack out a fake one in study hall, saying- I don't know, something about my two canaries, Martha and Betty. They were the only nice people in her life, and they weren't even people.
                          
"Hey." I whirled around to see J.D., casually lounging by the printer. I was suddenly reminded of when he had thrown a printer at Ms. Fleming in the 2nd grade.
                          
"H- Hey," I told him, edging away from him slightly. He shot me a dangerous look and I froze. The tension suddenly was drained from his posture and he slumped, lowering his head so his dark curls well into his tortured eyes.
                          
"How'd you break your arm?" he asked, waving at my yellow cast. No one had signed it. I looked at him up and down. He raised an eyebrow. I could see the appeal, but Veronica... damn.
                          
"I fell out of a tree," I said quietly, focusing on each word to slowly speak without a stutter. You had to be sure to not piss off J.D. on the wrong day. I had learned that earlier today.
                          
"You fell out of a tree?" I nodded, and a small smirk grew on his face, while something akin to understanding flashed in his eyes. "Well, if that isn't the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." I winced. "No one's signed your cast."
                          
Well, way to throw salt in the wound. Externally, I said, "Yeah. N- No one's signed." I laughed awkwardly.
                          
"I'll sign it." A pause. "Got a sharpie?" I took one out and quickly handed it to him. He grabbed my arm harshly. I whimpered, but he didn't notice. He signed in two, big block letters and 2 large dots.
                          
"There," he said with a satisfied grin. "Now we can both pretend we had friends." Heather was my friend, but was she really? She was only using me for car insurance, she had mentioned that before. "Oh, here. This yours?" He held out my letter.
                          
"Oh. OH! Yeah, t- that's just a, uh, an English assignment! Yeah! S- So, uh-" Too late. His eyes were already scanning the letter, narrowing as he read farther and farther into it.
                          
"You wrote this to piss me off, didn't you?" He asked, stepping closer. I stumbled back, but he just kept walking towards me.
                          
"W- W- Why would I do t- that?" I asked, but he seemed beyond reason. A maniac light had lit itself in his eyes, and it was growing brighter as his grip on reality loosened.
                          
"You wrote this creepy shit about my sister, didn't you? Because you knew I would be here, you little bitch!" He got closer. I felt like screaming, or crying, or punching him. I froze as he got too close, too close, too close! He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he paused. "FUCK!"
                          
He shoved my to the side and left. With my letter. Shoulder aching and head pounding and heart beating, the letter was the only thing I could focus on. I blinked after him, willing tears not to fall. I couldn't be weak. 
                          
But maybe it didn't even matter.
                          
Because I was screwed.
                          
(1132 words)