Every time Evan cried, reached, or searched for a solution, all he came up with was an empty feeling in his heart. Each waking hour, day, moment, it became heavier and heavier. Breathing became a chore and sleeping was the last relief, as few as it was. Anxiety seeped into every move, action, and feeling he could muster. Even in the darkness of his bed, he was left with his thoughts analyzing the actions he held.

So it shouldn't have been that surprised when his mother caught him kicking out the chair from under him. He could still feel the scream that burst from her lungs when he felt pressure enclose his throat.

His heart thumped against his chest, and the air left his lungs, yet no regret came. It was almost as if he was eerily calm.

The first incident he had been a sobbing mess, almost regretting his actions, but as the feelings did not go away, he found himself more frequently reaching for the easy solution.

Rehab was not the easy solution.

It was raining, light sprinkles, too soft to need the window wipers, too consistent to see perfectly. Sort of like Evan.

His mouth twisted in a pout, his belongings in a turquoise suitcase that did not help his anxiety level. His foot was almost shaking and his hands were close to bleeding. He picked and prodded at his nails, bitten to the beds.

Looking over at his mom, she stood there at the wheel with a steely glaze, glassy eyes, and stiff arms.

"Mom," Evan started, but Heidi was having none of it.

"You're going." She cut him off, pressing the gas peddle a bit harder.

"I don't need rehab," he spat.

"Evan," his mom sighed exasperated, "we aren't having this conversation again."

"But-"

"No."

They didn't talk for the rest of the ride. Evan is too bitter, Heidi too remorseful.

It was 2 hours away from home, the closest one they could find. Heidi would have to take even more shifts just to afford the new bill from Evans's living fee. So he was sure this would be the last time he saw his mom for at least 2 months. His fingers were red from the constant pressure to withhold his chewing mania, and his eyes were puffy from emotional shock.

A week after the incident his mother approached him about the topic, and then signed him up anyway.

He was not amused.

They couldn't seem to stop having arguments in the car ever since.

Approaching the horrid building, Evan laid his eyes on white-bleached concrete, fences all around, and cheesy paintings on the walls.

It looked like a prison.

It was a prison.

He crossed his arms and shrunk into himself. He hated it already, he tugged at his hair to rid the pressure in his chest, pulling until it felt like it was coming out.

"Stop." His mother tiredly pleaded her voice horse and lost from their screaming matches.

"No," Evan rebelled, anger laced in his words, tugging harder.

"Please," her voice cracked and well, Evan was always a mommas boy. The anger quelled and he sighed.

"Please don't make me go." He asked one last time, no yelling, no crying, just a request.

Heidi paused for a long time, just the two of them staring at each other, both of them looking so tired.

"I can't." She finally said, and Evan just nodded.

He'd kill himself later anyway, it didn't matter.

"I love you." She finally said.

"I love you too." He replied.

They didn't speak when she checked him in.

Rubbing his arms she gave him one last look over. He could faintly hear other people talking to him, but only had the energy to focus on his mom.

"You're going to be okay." She said, more as a statement rather than a question.

"Yes." He replied. She pursed her lips, looked at the watch, and left.

He was alone.

Again.

Someone grabbed his arm and escorted him to his room, they were talking.

Evan didn't care, he didn't know how to care, he didn't want to care.

So the second they left, he crawled into his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was tired and hungry, and definitely ready for a nap, but instead, he just stared at the ceiling.

His summer was really starting to suck.

Though it always sucked.

Due to the lack of forced interaction, Evan never really did a lot during the summer, he was an apprentice for a park but most people would be caught dead and he spent most of the day walking around picking up nonexistent trash, then went straight home to lie in his bed until he was gross and hot from sweat to which he would put on a tank top, wipe his armpits, and continue his habits.

He didn't come back after he broke his arm.

Naturally, he has extremely understimulated the entire summertime, and just festered in his self-deprecating thoughts, something he was trying to avoid until his mother ruined his plans.

Not that the school year was any better, while he wasn't stuck in his train of, "wow those pills look swallowable," he constantly was having anxiety and panic attacks, yes there was a difference. A kid would make a dumb joke at his expense and then the whole room would laugh and Evan would forget to breathe. He ate 3 bites of lunch and by the end, his stomach was so out of place he'd lose it by the end of lunch anyway. Eventually, he stopped eating altogether, as the bathrooms were always crowded during lunch and Evan didn't have the self-confidence to throw up with others around nor the self-restraint to wait to throw up. Teachers always called him by his first horrible name, insisted by the Best Father of the Century, Mark.

What sort of name was Mark anyway? It sounded Like a stain, though Evan was a stain on the lives of the people around him, his father was just smart enough to leave while he could. Mark Evan Hansen, Meh, god he hated it, more than anything. Meh pretty much described his being, just a dismissive wave in the length of life. Not only that but it was a permanent attachment to his father, who left his mom for a cocktail waitress. Who left him for a new family.

No Evan removed that name from being affiliated with him completely, he wanted it removed from the category of life, he wanted to go back in time and slap his dad when deciding his name. Evan was a much more peaceful name anyway, meaning gracious or good man, though neither titles fit him.

He also wanted to remove himself from the picture, go back in time and keep his parents from ever meeting, save his mom from the two worst experiences in her life. She didn't deserve to be left and more importantly, she didn't deserve to be stuck.

A knock sounded on the door, Evan turned his head to the smiling emoticon on the door, the paint chipped.

"Come in," he quietly replied.

A nurse came in, with honeysuckle hair and crystal green eyes. She set down a tray of food and handed Evan a pill and a glass of water.

"I- uh- thank you." He stuttered, placing the pill down.

"Eat it." Her heavy Russian voice demanded.

"W-what?" Evan quietly replied.

"In front of me, now." She stared him down, Evan nodded quickly and swallowed it, allowing her to see inside his mouth. She nodded and walked away. Before closing the door she peeked her head in.

"Food cafeteria tomorrow." She shakily said, slightly mispronouncing cafeteria as "cayfeeteria", but who was Evan to judge, he couldn't speak a full sentence without stuttering.

"Yes ma'am."

She nodded once and left, leaving Evan to his solitude.

"I hate breathing." He whispered to himself and finally, closed his eyes, falling asleep to the bliss of dreams.