Haha, I'm taking the most underrated character from DEH and making him really SUFFER-

TW: Grieving, Death, Overdosing, Drug Addiction and Abuse

I miss you.

Miguel stared down at the text. Connor never texted him anymore, not since he ran ou-

He thoughts were cut off by the shrill scream of his boss. "MI-I-IG-UEL-" She yelled at him, looking him up and down and pointing at his phone. "Put it away, you can deal with this LATER, when there aren't CUSTOMERS-"

He sighed, nodding and pocketing the phone, going along with it. He needed this job.

A little bit later, when he was just finishing up his shift, he pulled out his phone and quickly texted a reply.

I miss you too.

Then he got in his car and drove home. The ride was peaceful and quiet, the streets bare and empty, just how he liked it. He loved the soft wind going through his hair, the sounds of a hooting owl, all of it. 

When he got there, he made some ramen and relaxed with his phone. An hour or so passed, no text. 

He said goodnight to his parents and went to bed, presuming Connor passed out, he always WAS high....

When he woke up, his alarm was blaring. 5:30, greatttttt. No text was sent back. 

It's fine! Connor is still sleeping! School doesn't start until 7:30 for him anyway! 

After taking a quick shower and getting ready, he grabbed a quick banana and dashed out the door. 

He had a nice walk in the brisk autumn air, taking in the scenery. This was another amazing part of his day, he loved walking alone in nature, something about it was so calming, so peaceful.  

Arriving at school shortly after, he kept checking his phone. It was 7:30...

CONNOR PROBABLY WAS JUST SKIPPING... yeah.....

Connor? You there? Please...

The hours turned to days...

Eventually, he called Connor. It had been a few days, he wanted to make sure he was okay-

It rang out into nothing.

"This number has been deactivated." A female robot voice said, and he dropped his phone.

He was shocked and scared, he tried over and over and over again. Same message.

No no no no no... WHY IS IT DEACTIVATED-

He calmed himself down. Maybe Connor got a new number!

~~~ 

It was about a month later. He got a text from his father. It was a video link.

You seem like you could use this, kiddo. It's a speech some kid gave about his best friend, to save others from committing suicide like he did.

He sighed, his dad was one of those parents all about positivity, probably where he got his "Fuck it" approach to problems in life.

He began to play the video, he KNEW his Dad would ask about it later; so it would be best to get this out of the way.

There was a lonely blonde boy on stage, anxiously gripping his flash cars, eyes darting. It was clear he didn't want to be here. "Go-Good morning, students and faculty. I would, um, I wo-would just like to say a few words for you today... about my be-best friend....

Connor Murphy." His heart stopped as he closed the video, looking up Connor's name.

Multiple results about a boy committing suicide popped up. 

He fell to the ground. His Connor his Connor Murphy-

He was shaking, a few tears breaking from his eyes and pouring down his cheeks. It was the night he texted him, the number deactivated, EVERYTHING made sense. Only one picture appeared, it was of Connor smiling, arm wrapped around someone cropped out of the photo.

THAT WAS THEIR PHOTO.

He went into his camera roll, scrolling up. He pulled up the picture. Only this was the original. He kept sobbing. The tears cruel, salty and never-ending. 

He didn't cry, he never cried...

His whole happy exterior cracking. His best friend died, nobody knew they were friends, NO ONE TOLD HIM...

And some kid was credited. 

After a long and lonely sob session on his bedroom floor, he got up, picking up his phone. A cluster of emotions filled him as he found out what Connor did; the overdose, the suicide note addressed to a boy named Evan Hansen. He went back to the speech, watching it over and over again. 

Suddenly, he paused the video.

This wasn't Connor...

Connor hated that orchard. He hated climbing...

He NEVER smiled-

Like, his smile was small, discreet, and rare. Miguel recalled seeing it once or twice when they were high in Connor's room, when no one else was home. 

After Connor covered for his weed, his mother kicked Connor out, never letting him over again.

Speaking of weed... he could use some. He made a small blunt, he hasn't been smoking in months. Trying to quit and be clean. But I'm sure that one small smoke couldn't hurt. He was grieving anyway.

He sat on his bed, window open as he smoked it. It was early November, so luckily this didn't look too weird. He just smoked, deep in thought about Connor. 

He was angry; angry Connor couldn't tell him what was wrong, angry he didn't ask for help, angry he never told him what he was doing...

Angry he did it.

He punched a pillow with tears in his eyes. "Fuck it." He sighed, taking a deep breath and setting the pillow to his side. "Fuck em..." 

Fuck Connor for leaving him this way...

There was another feeling present. Sadness, overwhelming sadness. It was suffocating. Taking him over and drowning him. The only thing keeping him from drowning in it was that feeling of anger ever present.

This was going to be a really long night....

He decided to keep looking up that suicide project for Connor. He's concluded it was run by three kids. Named Evan, Alana, and Jared. The Murphy's approve of this and are backing it up. It even has a Go Fund Me for rebuilding an old orchard Connor used to go to. But SOMETHING was wrong, this just DIDN'T sound like Connor...

This couldn't be Connor. And he knew it. But, he donated $20 anyway, a small part of him feels like this is what Connor would've wanted.

He put out the blunt, shut the window, and wiped his teary eyes. Connor was gone, and there's nothing he could do about it.

The next few months were rough, he couldn't lie; every month he donated a little bit more to The Connor Project. They reached their goal long ago, but he felt as if it was worth it. He kept up his job, went through school, all of this with a pit in his stomach. 

He found out where Connor was buried, visiting there every couple of weeks; at night of course. He didn't want the attention, didn't need it. This was his best friend, sure, nobody knew, but he liked it that way. He'd sit there and talk for hours, knowing deep down Connor could hear him. And that was all he needed.

It was late January when the notification popped up on his phone, Evan was leaving the project. He watched the farewell speech and sighed, all good things come to an end. The project was still going, it wouldn't quite be the same; but he was glad, Connor finally got noticed, and he made a big difference in many people's lives.

After a quick opening of his gmail app, he typed in an address.

[email protected] 

Hello, this is a long time donator, and even though he quit; I was wondering if I could talk to Evan Hansen.

A few days later, he got his response. A thank you for donating and a phone number, he typed it into his phone.

Hello, is this Evan Hansen?

The small dots of a reply popped up.

Um, yes, who is this?

Miguel, a long time donator to The Connor Project, I wanted to talk to you.

The dots popped up before immediately disappearing, and it was a few hours before he got a reply back from Evan.

I'm not part of that anymore, maybe you want to um talk to Alana, sorry.

No, trust me, I want to talk to you.

They talked on and off for a month or so, when Evan finally broke, admitting everything.

I'm sorry, I really didn't KNOW Connor... IT WAS ALL LIES. You should just go now...

I know.

What??? But nobody KNOWS this isn't some thing anybody who wasn't a part of TCP knows! How would you???

Evan. Connor Murphy was my best friend.

Well, that didn't prosper a response. Way to be blunt, Miguel!

Oh SHIT- I didn't mean to-

I know, I know you didn't. By the way, you do a really bad Connor.

Believe me, I know. Um, if you don't mind me asking... why didn't you tell anyone?

Because that was our friendship, secret, honestly kinda gay. That was how we liked it. I just wanted to respect his wishes, especially after he finally got noticed and appreciated by the world. It's why I payed my respects at night, and keep donating to TCP.

Oh...

After that confrontation, time went on. He graduated High School, picturing Connor in a cap beside him. A few weeks, and he decided to finally tell his parents.

"Hey, Mom? You know Connor, Connor Murphy?" Miguel asked his Mother, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, she was washing the dishes.

His Mother bitterly put a plate back in the soapy water. "You mean that no good, druggie of a friend you used to have?"

He sighed to himself. "Yep, that one. Did you know he committed suicide last September?"

She froze for a second, a look of sympathy crossed her face. "Oh, Miguel I had no idea... are you okay? Mentally speaking..."

He got up, a sad smile on his face as he headed towards the door, "Yeah, yeah I am. I'm going for a quick drive... I'll be back....."

Eventually, he got to a parking lot of a grocery store. He got out, spinning the keyring on his fingers. Letting the wind hit his face, tears sparkled in his eyes.

It was early July. He wiped his eyes as he saw a blonde boy in the distance coming towards him. He wished to himself that Connor was watching, it felt like that's something that he already did. Now, he just needed to see this kid, and thank him.

He was moving on, and if there was one thing he thought to himself, thought to CONNOR; it was:

I miss you...

A/N:

My first oneshot in this book! I'm excited for it! Sorry this is so bad, I just feel like we should notice Miguel's struggles with grieving Connor. I accidentally forgot to hit the publish button, so sorry this is late!

Sincerely,

The World's Shittiest Writer, 

Me

(1,745 Words)