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#jared is on thin ice im trying not to call him the words i want to call him
vecepiatowery · 9 months
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that was hisam’s last straw for me sorry…
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froggiedog · 6 years
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Okay!! So!! Merry (a lil’ late) Christmas (or all that other jazz) @vndoom !!!!
Your prompts were SO STINKIN’ CUTE and I immediately fell in love with the first one. I realized a lil’ late I’m bad at keeping things short, so I had to really push myself to leave out some extraneous detail.
I apologize that it’s towards the end of the deadline, but I hope the wait was worth it!! I’ve never been great at deadlines anyways,,,
Enjoy!!
(And endless thanks to the ever-lovely @showtoons for beta-ing!!)
3,162 words, some mild swearing.
@dearevanhansensecretsanta
Evan has always hated field trips.
There was always too much to do, too much to remember, and too many people packed onto a tiny school bus.
He shivers in his seat, staring bitterly out the frosted window as the kid next to him leans out across the middle aisle, shouting something at his friends in a way that was just too obnoxious for Evan to be able to handle right now.
Evan had set his bag on the seat next to him, a physical marker of I don’t want anyone to sit here, find somewhere else, but the kid had shoved it to the ground and plopped himself right in Evan’s safe space without so much as an apology or an acknowledgement.
That was fine, he guessed. Evan also hated small talk.
The bus jostles to the side, throwing Evan against the window, and he reels back as the cool glass meets with the side of his face. Disgruntled, he raises a gloved hand to rub at it in annoyance. Today was already turning out to be fantastic.
Alana pops up over the back of the seat in front of Evan, flashing a bright grin at him. Evan looks up at her wearily.
“We’re almost there! Don’t forget your backpack this year— remember last time? You were so distraught—”
“Yes, but—”
“—and you called your mother, crying—”
“Okay, Alana, thank you.” Evan rubs at his temples. “Yes, that was— I remember that.” Evan reaches down to tug his backpack into his lap, faking a smile he’s sure looks painful on his face. “I won’t forget it this time.”
She only shrugs, sinking back into her seat, when Evan’s phone buzzes.
Connor
If i have to listen to this asshole make one more joke about my hair im throwing him out the window
Evan smiles down at his phone, cradling it in his hands like it was a prized heirloom from a time forgotten (in a sense, it kind of was). There had been too many seniors to cram them all on one bus, so the class had been split. Evan was left with Alana on this bus, and Connor and Jared were together on the other. Evan was fairly certain one or the other would arrive, throttled, at their destination.
Evan
I think all of us would appreciate that, except maybe Alana.
Just don’t get in trouble with the chaperones.
Connor replies with a simple “k”, and Evan tucks his phone away. It seems the others on the bus are becoming restless and noisy, squabbling around to get a look out the windows, so he figures they’re arriving soon.
Evan clutches the straps of his backpack tightly as they get off the bus, the cold air immediately whipping its way into his jacket and forcing him into a hunch.
God, he really hates the cold.
Evan jumps reflexively as a long, thin arm winds its way around his shoulders. Startled, he looks up into the grim, gaunt face of Connor Murphy. Who is scowling.
“What’s up?” Evan asks, relaxing into his side. “Missed you.”
Jared makes a distinct gagging noise somewhere to Evan’s left, beyond Connor. “Just get together already, you’re both fuckin’ gross.”
Evan wrinkles his nose, immediately detaching from Connor’s side. “Is it even worth it at this point to tell you we’re just friends?”
“That.” Connor says, pointing a thin, gloved finger at Jared. “That’s the problem.”
Jared places a hand over his heart, mocking a wounded expression. “‘That’? I must mean more to you than just ‘that’, Murphy.”
Connor doesn’t humor him, instead making a show of rolling his eyes.
As the teachers call everyone’s attention and wrangle them into place, they explain the nature of the tour, adding special detail to the notes they need to take along the way, reiterating as many times as possible that it isn’t a leisure trip. Everyone groans collectively at the assigned workload, with the exception of Alana, who seems to radiate excitement. They go on to say everyone should get themselves a walking partner, so nobody gets lost, and Connor immediately velcros himself to Evan’s side. It still gives Evan a warm feeling that Connor isn’t withdrawn about their friendship.
Evan gives Jared a bit of side-eye, watching for a moment as Alana grips his arm and chatters his ear off, before fixing his eyes back on the teachers at the front of the group.
Evan flashes Connor a meek smile and plops his mittened hand into his. He’d be just fine like this.
The snow on the sidewalks of New York City could hardly be considered snow— it was all slushy mush that seeped into the fabric of Evan’s Uggs as they walked, wetting his socks and making him intensely more uncomfortable the farther they went. The air seemed to be as bitter and sharp as his current mood.
“You okay?” Connor’s voice pulled him from his darkening thoughts. Evan turns his head to look up at him, and Connor’s eyes were knowing, but not revealing. To passerby, it wouldn’t look like there was a scene unfolding. Evan appreciates that.
He sighs, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn-out coat. The padding on the inside was so flattened by this point the damn thing barely kept him warm. “I’m just... cold. And not looking forward to this.”
Connor offers Evan a small smile, just for him. “You already know we’re in the same boat.” Evan nods, and Connor’s smile turns smirk. “Would me throwing a snowball at the back of Kleinman’s head make you feel any better?”
“It’d make you feel better,” Evan snorts, “It’d also get us in trouble.”
Connor groans like Evan had just denied him a free piece of candy, his shoulders drooping childishly. “You’re no fun when there are teachers around, y’know that?”
Evan pushes against his arm lightly, a faint smile on his lips, and he allows himself to chuckle.
After a while, the groggy uncomfortable feeling starts to feel worse.
The busy streets of New York are crowded and unnavigable enough to be walking through them with a pack of students, all of them loud and restless like a herd of scared sheep, jostling Evan as they walk and pulling him around like a ragdoll. The sounds from the traffic whirring around them melding with the multitude of voices surely don’t help Evan’s senses either, making his face contort into an ugly wince and squish Connor’s hand; his own uncomfortably sweaty inside his gloves despite the cold. He looks up from the pavement in an attempt to ground himself, focus on something else, but he realizes it was a futile attempt when the Christmas lights that are strung from the trees seem to spin and whirl in blurry circles before his eyes. Evan’s lack of attention on his footing makes him skid on a patch of ice. Connor’s fingers are suddenly around his arm.
It’s suddenly too much to take.
He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stops moving until the tangle of students pass around them and they’re at the back of the pack.
“Better?”
Evan nods numbly, though it really isn’t, but he lets Connor pull him forward by his arm anyway. His stomach feels like a bubbling cauldron, his mouth dry, and he tries very hard to swallow the excess saliva pooling in his mouth due to his sudden nausea. He feels Connor’s hand slipping down to grab his, continuing to tug him forward, yet Evan’s feet feel like they’re weighed down with cement. He finally gives in, shaking his head much like a dog, and tugs weakly on Connor’s hand until they’ve stopped again. He’s all too aware of strangers glancing at them as they pass, yet he can’t seem to make himself look at anywhere that’s not the dirty sidewalk beneath them. “I can’t, I feel sick, Connor, I can’t—”
Connor moves to Evan’s front, securing his hands around Evan’s arms and bending down slightly to peer into his face. Evan briefly considers he should feel babied by the action, slightly pissed off, but he realizes he doesn’t. “Breathe, Evan. Just take a moment, you’re alright.”
Evan tries, all the breathing exercises that were taught to him tumble around inside his mind desperately before he can even try to put one into practice. Yet, something about Connor’s strong grip on his arms and the strong scent of his deodorant make Evan feel like he can take his time, like Connor will wait for him, and the world won’t crumble as long as Connor doesn’t lose his grip on him. So he does. He closes his hands into tight fists, and gradually, Evan’s rapid inhales begin to slow. The world slowly stops spinning, things coming into focus, and it doesn’t feel like his entire stomach is going to climb out of his mouth anymore. He’s not great, but he’s slightly more stable, which is arguably better than how he started. The chill settles on his clammy skin, and Connor must notice him shivering because he straightens up and tugs Evan to his chest, wrapping his arms around him.
After a few more moments pass of Evan listening to the gentle beat of Connor’s heart, he pulls back and Connor releases him, his hands sliding back into the pocket of his hoodie.
“All good?” Connor asks.
Evan nods. “Good, this time, yeah.”
Except, as Connor moves out of the way, Evan can’t find where the rest of the class went.
They’re gone.
Frantically, he begins to weave between the people on the sidewalk, peering over and around them, and Connor calls out to him in confusion as he goes. They’re gone. They’re gone. The class left without them, and now Evan can’t see where they went, and they’re lost in New York, and he’ll never find his way home, he has no idea where he is—
Connor yanks on Evan by the back of his coat collar, which effectively gets his attention.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“I—” Evan chokes on his words, swallowing painfully, and turns to Connor. “They’re gone, Connor, they left— we’re lost—”
“So don’t just run off!” Connor stills himself, inhaling deeply through his nose for a moment. “It’s fine, Ev. We can just Google Maps the area, or whatever. Seriously.”
“Oh.” Evan blinks. “Right.”
Connor fishes his phone from his pocket and Evan inches closer to him, fisting a hand in the hem of his hoodie like a child. Connor blinks down at the action momentarily, but resumes swiping around on his phone.
“This way.” Connor stalks forward and Evan is hasty to follow, skidding through the slush, clutching to Connor as if though the minute he lets go of him, he’d vanish too.
There’s a stinging in his nose and a tight feeling in his chest, but Evan pushes down the urge to start crying because they’re in public, and he can tell Connor is already stressed by the rigid set of his jaw and the way he walks, stiff and brisk. He doesn’t need to upset him more— He knows if he goes off a third— fourth? (he’s already starting to lose track) time he might push Connor over the edge. Evan hates upsetting him more than he hates the situation they’re in.
They don’t talk much, occasionally twisting left or right, and eventually Connor slows his stomping. He punches a button for the crosswalk.
“I’m—” Connor’s nose crinkles up. “Y’know, it’s not your fault.”
Evan digs the toe of his soaked shoe into the bank of snow on the edge of the sidewalk. “Okay.” He says, because he doesn’t know what else to. A car whizzes past, spraying dirty slush behind it.
Connor’s hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, flicking his wrist and tossing his hair out behind him. Evan’s eyes catch on the movement, and it distracts him from realizing the crosswalk light has turned green and Connor is already walking away from him. He lurches into the road, scurrying to catch up with him, and reattaches himself to Connor’s arm as he reaches him.
The taller of the two smiles down at Evan, amusement clear in the curve of his mouth. “Clingy today, aren’t we? If you’re trying to steal my heat it’s not gonna work— I’m too cold-hearted for that.”
Evan rolls his eyes. A smile creeps onto his face as well. “No, I just— I don’t want to lose you.”
A brief emotion Evan can’t place passes over Connor’s face before it shifts into something Evan thinks might be determination. “Here, let’s— Can we sit down for a moment?”
Evan stutters a startled affirmation, allowing Connor to lead him to the edge of an empty fountain. He brushes some snow off, and pulls Evan down to sit with him. Evan cringes at how cold the stone is. The look on Connor’s face says the same.
“Alright, bad idea.” Connor shifts a little, his knee knocking into Evan’s. “Um...”
Something small catches on one of Evan’s eyelashes, blurring his vision momentarily before he blinks it away. He looks up, as if he’d find an answer in the air, and... well, he does. Snowflakes are starting to swirl gently around them, settling gently in Connor’s hair and nuzzling into the creases of Evan’s jacket. Evan just now takes notice of the Christmas lights strung up through the small corner-park they’ve stopped at, twinkling, cheery blues and whites. Evan also takes notice of Connor.
His breath is exhaled in visible puffs like a dragon’s, clouding momentarily before dissipating into the cool air. There are snowflakes on his eyelashes as well, and it looks like someone sprinkled him with glitter. It takes a bit of willpower for Evan not to chuckle at the imagery.
Connor is looking at him. Looking into his eyes. Evan is bodily aware of the simple space where their knees are touching, where Evan couldn’t force himself to pull away if he wanted to.
Snow must make him really, super sappy.
There’s a hand on his, and Evan looks down— It’s Connor’s— and Evan looks back up. Connor’s eyes are soft and warm, and there’s a pink dusting across his cheeks and his nose from the cold. Without much thought, Evan brings his free hand to cup the side of Connor’s face, to offer warmth, but Connor must have thought something different of the gesture.
He leans forward, fast but not fast enough that if Evan had wanted to pull back, he could’ve, and connects their lips.
Evan takes a brief moment to wonder how horribly chapped his lips are, but Connor’s are soft and they slide against his, Evan’s entire being forgetting how cold he was moments before; and just like that, the world is suddenly quiet. The cars are background noise, the chattering of strangers distant and fuzzy, the crunching and sloshing of snow are dim in comparison to the cacophony that is Evan’s heartbeat. It pounds out a steady rhythm in his chest and the hand he has resting on Connor’s cheek slides down to press against Connor’s chest, seeking out the same thing. It beats gently against Evan’s mittened fingers.
They pull away from each other and Connor’s face is lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s one of the most beautiful things Evan has seen, how relaxed and happy and ultimately at peace he looks. Evan’s heart stutters in its rhythm.
He knows he’ll ruin the moment if something comes out of his mouth. His mouth decides to work against his brain anyways. “Uh— I really, um—” He brings his hand from Connor’s chest (he’s a little mortified he left it there) to his own lips. “I’m— wow?”
Connor laughs, a real laugh, a laugh that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and shakes his curly hair loose from behind his shoulders. “You’re a real casanova, y’know that?” Evan’s face heats, and Connor grins at him. “I was gonna try to do a little more talking, but I think that kind of sums everything up.” He pauses. “Probably worked better than if I tried talking, anyways.”
Evan is still a little dumbstruck from the whole situation, not entirely sure how he’s supposed to sort out his feelings and what just happened and what it means. Are they... Does that make them boyfriends? Oh, Jared will have a field day—
Connor takes Evan by the hand and pulls him from the cold stone tile. Evan is still warm. Warmer than he’s ever been. The way Connor’s smiling at him makes him feel like he could burn up.
After Connor starts navigating with his phone again, maneuvering them through the grid-like streets of New York city as snow flurries blow into their eyes, Evan catches sight of the group of teenagers squawking and flocking around the meeting point. He and Connor casually slip into the back of the crowd, but not without Jared and Alana noticing.
“Where have you two been?” Alana pouts, planting her hands on her hips and leaning towards them. “You’ve missed all the fun!”
Connor snorts before he can stop himself. “We had some fun of our own.” Evan’s face must go cherry red, because Jared gasps like he’s heard the most scandalous news of the century.
“No way.” He lunges towards Evan and yanks down his coat collar to inspect his neck. “Did you score any hickies?”
“Jared!” Evan squawks, flapping his hands at him uselessly before managing to push him off. “No, we just... Got lost. Is all.”
Jared squints at him. He’s known Evan since he was a kid, he can probably see right through him. The falling snow must have him in a peace-loving mood, because he drops the subject. He turns to smirk at Connor.
“I don't like it,” Connor starts, “Whatever that look is, I don't like it.”
“Trying to sneak off for some ‘alone-time’, Murphy?”
The two bicker back and forth, something they always seem to be doing, until they relax into their usual group dynamic. Evan zones out for most of the speech done by the teachers, having Alana tug on his sleeve when they seemingly say something worth noting, and while he’s trying to pay attention to the sociocultural reasons of why the architecture of the old New York City buildings remain the way they are, Evan feels Connor’s hand fall into his. He stops himself from looking up to him, however, instead opting to squeeze his hand softly; an unspoken promise, as he does his best to rid his mind from piling thoughts of maybe kissing Connor some more. In private. When they have the time to make it last. Once Evan feels Connor’s amused eyes on him, though, he realizes he might have not done a good job at not letting them show on his face.
He briefly wonders if they could get lost together a bit more often.
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