#can anybody fucking hear me please foe the love of god hello

[kazumasougi]

…dear god this app is unusable. Um

[twobitcowboy]

And when it comes (I won’t be done)

a/n: TRIGGER WARNING: slightly in depth descriptions of panic attacks including gross vomiting so if that’s a trigger maybe don’t read this or try to skip around it, it’s only in the beginning few paragraphs. so this is my first DEH fic and actually the first fic i’ve written in over a year so i’m sorry if it’s awful. this is based off my own lovely anxiety experiences but obviously didn’t go exactly like this. however, cookie monster ice cream is a real thing and it’s good as fuck so if you ever get the chance to try it, do it. you will not regret it. Connor and Evan might be slightly ooc because i haven’t written in a long time. i also might make this part of a series? please tell me what you think in the comments. that’s all, hope you enjoy!

read it here on ao3 

–

The bathroom stall floor is surprisingly comfortable, contrary to popular belief. The only noticeable pain is the ache in his neck that he’ll be feeling for a few days after this and oh yeah, the searing pain in his lungs and how it feels like someone is using his heart as a stress ball. That’s only a small problem right now though. The real problem is that there is someone else in the bathroom right now and Evan really needs more tissue. The one in his hand is soaked in drool and snot to the point it’s running down his arm and soaking his sleeve. Which is, eww gross, just because he’s having a panic attack doesn’t mean he doesn’t have standards. He’s been holding his breath since he saw the boots appear from under the door of the stall he’s hiding in and now that’s beginning to be a bit difficult. Evan tears his eyes from where he’s been staring at the shoes and to the toilet paper dispenser. Looking up from the floor it seems a million miles away. The dull metal that is covered in sharpie penises is now his greatest foe. Slowly he moves his arm from where it’s plastered to his chest and reaches up to snag the tail of the paper. If he wasn’t already holding his breath he would be now, moving his arm down inch by inch the toilet paper descends to him. He’s doing pretty good so far, the sound of the sink gives him a chance to pull faster and the person not hear the rattle of cardboard on metal.

Just his luck though, the person sneezes and it scares his already jumpy nerves. On instinct he flinches, pulling his hand to his chest and making the metal dispenser clank deafeningly. He freezes once he realizes his mistake and lets out his breath as quietly as he can, but his voice still quivers into it.

“Huh?” He hears the person ask and a shoes squeaks against the ugly brown tiles. “Hello? Uhh, is anyone in there?” Evan tries to stay quiet but can’t hold it in anymore. He takes in a gasp of air and then proceeds to sob and gag into the toilet bowl. “Oh shit, uh whoa. Hey, hey which stall are you in?” The boy asks again and 1) like hell Evan is going to answer 2) his voice is gone and it won’t be back for a good three to five business days thank you very much. Instead he lets out another blubber and screws his eyes shut as more tears catch on his eyelashes and trickle down his face.  He can hear the boy pushing open stall doors as they bang against the wall and it won’t be long before he finds Evan. There’s a hesitant knock on his door and the sound of fabric rustling as he turns to see the boy sitting crisscross on the floor. “Hey, are you ok? Do I need to call someone?” Evan can’t answer that with anything other than a sob and hastily unlocks his phone to write a note. The boy is still talking softly to him as he types a message and slides his phone across the tiles, making a horrendous scraping sound. He sees a hand with long, slender fingers topped off with black polish wrap around the screen.  After a moment the boy speaks to him, “Hi Evan, I’m Connor. I can see you’re scared of me but I promise I won’t hurt you. How about you talk to me and I can get you out of here?”

Evan just lets out another sob and hyperventilates which is not good, he thought this stage had already passed but it has decided to come back. Connor is shushing him and telling his it’s going to be ok, and then sliding the phone back under the door. Evan reaches out and draws it back to his person and types another note before throwing it across the floor. He’s pretty sure he’s cracked it, opps. That will be something Future Evan can deal with because Future Evan is good and not a mess. Now Evan likes Future Evan, Future Evan has his life somewhat together. Now Evan is currently trying to hide behind a toilet and sitting in water, at least he hopes its water. No, that’s definitely piss. Great. The hand shoots out and snags the phone before it can go any further and reads Evan’s new note. “Evan, buddy, I know you’re really scared but I need you to unlock the door so I can get you out. We can go anywhere you want. I can call your mom-,” Connor doesn’t get to finish that sentence because now Evan is chanting no over and over and the sound of his voice mixed with sobs is a terrible sound that makes Connor’s heart ache. Evan’s mantra is cut off as he gags and dry heaves into the toilet and god knows how much he’s already thrown up for nothing to come up. “That’s ok Evan; I won’t call your mom. Just breathe for me, deep breaths. That’s it, good job. I can take you home, or out for ice cream. Everyone likes ice cream. Have you ever been to A La Mode? It’s really good, they have all these specialty flavors. My favorite is cookie monster; it’s got cookie dough, chocolate chips, Oreo bits and its blue! How cool is that?” Yeah so now Connor is rambling but it seems to be working, Evan’s breaths are calmer now and they sobs are few and far in between.

Evan makes some sounds that aren’t cries and sound a little like words. Guiltily Connor asks him to repeat himself because he couldn’t understand the first time. He doesn’t do too much better this time but Connor can make out a few words. “You can’t move?” Evan hums an affirmation and Connor reckons it’s time to slide the phone back to him, so he does. “Can you tell me why you can’t move?” As it turns out Evan is very, very scared, his mom worries too much and he doesn’t want to be a bother to her, and he hasn’t been to A La Mode and thinks it sounds nice. Connor learns this all over the next twenty minutes and at some point the school police officer appeared and Connor told him the situation. He then realized that he is indeed talking a boy down from a panic attack on the bathroom floor that’s covered in piss. What is his life? But hey, at least he’s not high, you’re welcome mom.

Meanwhile Evan is forcing himself to scoot closer and closer to the stall door as his whole body shakes. He’s cleaned up as well as he can but there’s no doubt his face is red as a tomato and his eyes are puffy. His hands tremble as he reaches his arm across the stall that feels like its miles long instead of feet. He finally latches onto the lock and weakly wraps his fingers around the notch and pulls with all the strength he has left. The lock doesn’t budge, not a bit. Evan whimpers and draws his hand back. One step forward, two steps back.

“Evan? What’s wrong?” Connor asks, voice full of concern, he shifts closer to the door, “go on, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Stuck,” Evan rasps.

“Stuck? The lock?” Connor has his hand of the handle now and is pulling it lightly, like that will help any.

“Mhmm.” Evan steels himself and reaches out again and pulls at the lock again, this time it comes loose and he flinches back as Connor tumbles into the stall, he has obviously putting his body weight on the door and wasn’t expecting it to open. The door slams against the wall with a bang and Evan finally gets a look at his helper.

Connor in unfairly gorgeous with long medium brown hair and an angular face that combats Evan’s own round one. “Uh, hi,” Connor says once his face isn’t kissing the floor. Evan rasps back a hello, fully aware that he looks like a Trash Child. Connor looks as flustered as Evan feels, hair a bit wild and cheeks flushed with this lovely red color Evan would like as a shirt. Connor clears his throat and looks around at the damage that Evan has made. His bookbag and jacket are scattered across the floor and the toilet bowl is full of tissues and spit. Evan tries to swallow but grimaces at the dry burn, the hyperventilating dried out his throat. Connor takes it upon himself to lead the way and gathers up Evan’s bookbag and hands him his jacket. He reaches past Evan’s head to flush the toilet and then stands up, reaching out his hand. “Up you get,” Connor commands and Evan shyly reaches out with his clammy hand and grabs Connor’s, who then pulls him up. His knees buckle and he ducks protectively in on himself. Connor wraps an arm around him and pulls him into his side, shushing and soothing him. “I got you, I got you. It’s alright Evan, I got you.” This makes Evan feels much better. They slowly shuffle towards the exit and Evan catches sight of the campus cop, OJ. Now Evan likes OJ, loves him even, but his mind only sees him as a threat at the moment and reacts by making him flinch and whimper into Connor’s armpit. How rotten, he was doing so well.

“It’s ok Evan, that’s just OJ. He’s here to make sure we get to the car safely and don’t run into anybody,” Connor reassures him but Evan isn’t so sure. Instead he closes his eyes and whispers, “go,” to Connor hoping he will lead them to safety. It takes them awhile but Connor slowly navigates the two of them through the school and to the student parking lot. Connor bids OJ goodbye once they reach his car and Evan scrambles into the passenger seat and puts on his seatbelt. To his right Connor climbs in and cranks the car, setting the air temperature so that it’s warm and comfy. They then pull out of the parking lot and Evan allows himself to doze off the gentle rocking of the car and sound of tires on asphalt.

Evan wakes with a jolt, still very groggy and exhausted. Connor is peering at him, leaned into the passenger side of the car.

“Hey wake up, we’re here.” It takes Evan a second to remember where ‘here’ is but then he looks at the fancy font on the sign and remembers Connor has taken him to get ice cream. Evan likes ice cream, who doesn’t like ice cream? Connor has taken it upon himself to unbuckle Evan already and he backs away from the door to give him space to get out. Evan stretches his legs out from where he curled into a ball in this sleep and realizes he’s very stiff. He shuts the car door behind him and trails after Connor into the quaint little shop. The bell above the door dings happily and the sudden chill of the shop makes Evan shiver. Connor looks at him with a soft smile and asks what he wants. Evan lets his eyes trail over all the flavors on display and other options on the chalkboard menu. After a minute or two of debate Evan taps Connor on the arm and points to the pastel pink and blue of the cotton candy flavor. Connor nods and asks what size he wants but Evan hadn’t thought that far ahead so he just shrugs and says, “you pick.”

Connor walks up the the counter and is pleasant with the girl and orders for them, two scoop cookie monster and one scoop of cotton candy. Evan bides his time by looking around the shop at the glass cases full of pastries and and other delicate décor that litters the counters and walls. After paying, Connor hands Evan his cone and tells him, “why don’t we sit outside? It’s a nice day out and the sun is good for you.” Evan nods in agreement and the bells chimes goodbye and they settle into the uncomfortable metal seats under the pavilion and take leisurely licks of their ice cream. Evan hums in contentment at the sweet sugar flavor on his tongue, it’s been so long since he’s had cotton candy ice cream he forgot how good it tasted.

“Good?” Connor asks and the shorter boy nods yes and looks over at his companion and tilts his head in a question. ‘Your’s good?’ it seems to ask. Connor chuckles, “yeah, do you want some?” He extends his hand over the table and tilts the blue desert towards Evan. Evan stares for a long time at the cone in Connor’s hand as some of the ice cream melts and a blue streak trickles over his long fingers. Evan clears his throat, blushing and tilts his head forward. He takes a slow lick and catches a bit of cookie dough and it starts to tumble, he jerks his head and catches it in his mouth, pulling away.  Connor is blushing that lovely color again and Evan has to restrain himself from reaching over and seeing if that color comes with a heat. Wait, what the fuck? He stops that train of thought and interrogates it thoroughly. ‘Head Evan that’s like hella gay.’ Head Evan just shrugs and waves a tiny pride flag around, honestly fuck Head Evan. Now Evan snaps back to the present when Connor asks him a question he didn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“I asked how you broke your arm,” Connor repeats casually but his eyes show he’s very curious, how interesting. Head Evan files this information away for later, research purposes. Evan looks away and picks at a hang nail, tearing the skin off. It stings as blood rushes to the surface. He should probably answer the question now.

“I uh, fell out of a tree,” he whispers and quickly shoves more ice cream in his mouth so he can’t talk anymore. Connor’s eye brows meet on his forehead and his mouth turns down into a little frown.

“You’re a senior in high school and you broke your arm falling out of a tree? Isn’t that like something an elementary school kid would do?” Ok that’s a little cruel but he does have a point. But in Evan’s defense he didn’t plan on being alive to deal with the aftermath of jumping from a tree. He says as much.

“I didn’t plan on it being a problem when I ju-fell.” That causes a stiff silence and they continue to eat their ice cream. Connor breaks the silence after a few minutes.

“Can I sign it?”

“Sign what?”Evan asks confused, head snapped up to look at the long haired boy.

“Your cast, can I sign it?” Connor clarifies.

“Oh, yes.” Evan nods and Connor gets up from the table, metal chair scraping on concrete. It makes Evan’s ears ring. He watches Connor walk to his car and rummage through the console, grumbling quietly before giving a triumphant, “Ah ha!” He comes back to the table with a sharpie in hand. Evan extends his arm and listens to the sound of the felt tip scraping over plaster. It should make his skin crawl but he doesn’t mind it in all honesty. Instead he watches Connor scrawl his name in big capital letters over his broken ulna. Evan smiles at how large the name is written, it takes up almost all the space on the cast. The two of them spend the next few minutes eating their ice cream and making slow conversation. Connor tells Evan he hates his parents and Evan snorts and murmurs something about teenage angst. Connor flicks a left over straw wrapper at him for that. Evan tells Connor he likes trees and Connor calls him a hippie. Evan blushes and tells him to shut up.

It’s getting to be four o’clock and Connor suggests they head home. Evan agrees once realizing how tired he actually is. He will defiantly be taking a five hour depression nap when he gets home. They load back up into the car and drive silently for a bit until Connor realizes something important.

“I need your address Evan,” he says, slowing to stop at a red light. Evan likes that, how much he says his name. It keeps him grounded. He tells Connor his address and where it’s at in context to other landmarks around town. “Wait did you say you live across from Hooters?” Connor has a smirk on his face.

Evan stutters out his correction, “Hoofers, I live in the neighborhood across from Hoofers.”

“Oh the big barn turned restaurant that closed and is now home to the aggressively modern and hypocritical church?”

“Yeah that one.”

The car is thrumming a somber song, engine weeping softly in loss and Evan can fully agree. They’re sitting in Evan’s driveway and he can’t quite convince his body to get out and leave, which is fine right now but soon Connor is going to notice and get wierded out. Evan really doesn’t want to lose his maybe almost friend so quickly.

“Can I get your number?” Connor’s voice is loud and sudden, it startles Evan. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

“You…want my number?”

“Uh, yeah. So we can stay in touch, and so I can check up on you.” Ok that’s a small disappointment. Connor, the beautiful boy, only wants his number to make sure he won’t end up dead. Which makes sense, who would want Evan the Trash Child’s number? But still, they connected so well, they had ice cream together. Ice cream creates a real bond that should not be messed with or taken lightly. Evan isn’t going to say any of this obviously; he just enters his contact into Connor’s phone and hands it back to him. Then they’re both sitting there again, silent in Evan’s driveway listening to the car cry farewell. He’s overthinking this, it shouldn’t be this hard. Why can’t he just get up and out of Connor’s 2008 Honda civic? ‘Well, it is a nice car.’ ‘SHUT UP HEAD EVAN!’  He can’t take it anymore.

“ByethankyoufortheicecreamandnotthinkingImweirdforhavingapanicattackinthebathroom,” he blurts out, snatches his bookbag from the floor board and darts from the car, across the driveway and up to the front porch before Connor can even realize what’s happening. Evan’s fumbling to get his key in the lock when he hears Connor speak from where he’s now standing by his open car door.

“Bye Evan, see you at school,” that’s nice. No big expectations. A simple ‘bye I’ll see you in the hall and never speak to you again.’ Evan can handle that, that’s a small thing Evan can do. So he gives Connor a small, shy smile and scurries into his house, slamming the door behind him. He can hear the car’s tires grinding asphalt and slowly driving away. Once he can’t hear it anymore he lets out a sigh and wanders to his bedroom, dumping his belongings on the floor and flopping into bed. He crawls under the covers and shuts his eyes, letting some peace finally wash over him.