froyo / dear evan hansen

zoe recognises that silence as soon as she walks through the door. she recognises her parents' folded hands; their hushed talking; the biting of lips.

"how long has he been gone?" she asks quietly as she walks into the dining room.

"not long." is the hoarse response.

"he'll come back." she doesn't like how shaky her voice is.

cynthia dries her eyes. "he was getting better."

larry exhales slowly. "he'll be back soon."

zoe doesn't want to be the one to say it, but she does. "do you think he's–"

"no." cynthia cuts her off all too quickly.

a silence washes over the room again. connor's disappearance isn't an unusual thing in the murphy household, but he hasn't done it for a while since he started therapy.

"he'll be back soon," larry says again, fingertips brushing his wife's shaking hands.

"he's not in the park." is all zoe says before perching on a seat opposite her mother. "i was jut there."

"why were you–"

she shakes her head. "i was just– away. it helps to be away from all this."

zoe hates this kind of silence. the one where it's painful even to breathe. it's suffocating. it's grey smoke drifting into lungs and sea water seeping into mouths and the smell of falafel burgers being almost choking.

"what if he has–"

"cynthia. please." larry's voice cracks.

zoe folds her arms on the table and buries her head in them. he was getting better. he was trying. why why why why why why why—

"i'm leaving." she stands up and ignores her parents' protest.

she needs to be away for a little longer.