Work Text:
They don't quite know what they're doing, really, the two of them. Connor's at the party because it's Zoe's party, and he's really been trying with her. Evan's at the party because Jared wanted to come to the party, and Evan's a follower, not a leader. He's established that much.
It's loud - too loud, almost, because the bass is pumping and there aren't any parents so Evan doesn't have anywhere to go, and Jared's disappeared and Evan can't, can't, can't. He's backed himself up against the wall, nestled in a corner, as far away from the noise and the people as is physically possible. It isn't enough, though. There are too many bodies, and they're pressing into each other and it's loud, loud, loud, too loud. Evan's watching the mass of people, the bodies thriving and intertwining while he's outside of the mass, watching them and wishing that he didn't have to see them, because these people are functional, and he isn't. Sometimes he wishes that he could be, but right now he'd just like to go home.
Connor, meanwhile, regrets trying. He'd rather not be here - he'd like to be anywhere but here. It's getting to be too much, he's got a headache. Fucking hell.
Evan's head hurts, too. His eyes hurt. He's kind of- no, he is. He's shutting down. He sees somebody, eyes meeting his, coming closer - he knows those eyes, knows that face. Connor, Connor Murphy. Zoe's brother. Connor Murphy is coming closer, and he's asking Evan a question - something about if physical contact is okay, which sends Evan into a flurry of nodding, because it'll help ground him, he thinks. He feels an arm wrap around his waist and a warmth pressing into his side, keeping him stable, and he can do nothing else but lean into it and breathe. When he's brought outside onto the Murphy's porch, he's left gasping for air, and it's cool and nice and god, please let him calm down.
"Hey, just breathe, we're fine, okay? Breathe in, one, two, three.. good, out, four, five, six...."
Connor's had anxiety attacks in his room before. He's been alone, in the dark, breaking down, and this kid - Evan, he thinks? - shouldn't have to suffer the same fate. Stupid fucking bass, stupid fucking party, stupid fucking whoever forced Evan to come to this party (there's no way he would have come here himself, Connor's gathered that much).
-----
When Evan's calm, he's sinking into Connor - Connor, whose arm has never left his waist, who's stayed by his side repeating the numbers until Evan was able to calm - and mumbling thanks. His embarrassment will catch up with him in a bit, he knows that, but he's too exhausted to face that right now. He hasn't realized he's begun mumbling apologies instead of his intended singular thank-you until Connor's shushing him, telling him he doesn't have to be sorry and asking if he's alright to move. "It's totally cool if you're not, I get it, but my arm's kind of falling asleep. No rush, though." Connor's voice is too soft to be anything but welcome, Evan thinks. Surely he isn't as abrasive as everybody says, right? Connor helped him. Through a panic attack. That has to count for something. "Thank you, I'm sorry-" Ev's stopping himself before he can ramble, opting instead to shift his weight to where he's entirely sprawled out on the floor of the Murphy's porch. Connor must have sat them both down during Evan's episode. Evan doesn't know what to feel.
"The stars are nice tonight."
Connor isn't looking at him - the other boy is fidgeting with a sleeve, nails covered with dark, chipped polish, fingers deftly winding and unwinding a thread, tugging lightly. Evan almost finds it endearing, oddly enough. He's almost drained, floaty after his episode. It happens sometimes. He doesn't know exactly what it is. He feels okay, though.
"Yeah? We could- um. Go- go outside? If you'd like to, that is. The porch is fine, too!" Ev's anxiety-ridden speech pattern is coming back, though.
"Yeah, that'd be, uh.. cool. If you wanna stay and hang out."
"I wouldn't mind!"
"Okay."
"...okay."
-----
"You like John Green?"
They're lying on their backs in the Murphy's spacious backyard, close enough to touch, arms brushing together. They're looking up at the sky, as vast as it is. It's filled with stars.
"Yeah- yeah, I do! I'm, um- I'm assuming you caught the reference earlier?
"Yeah, I did. Which book of his is your favorite?"
Evan rambles on, and Connor interjects, and soon enough they're talking and laughing and bantering and functioning together as a whole, and Evan suddenly feels complete. Things will be okay, he thinks.
Little does he know that Connor's beginning to hope so, as well.