Disclaimer: Kenny Ortega/Disney own all of the HSM franchise. I just like to play with the boys sometimes. :D
Notes: My first ever death fic. I was inspired after seeing this performance of "Now," a song by Scott Alan as sung by Jonathan Groff: www dot youtube dot com slash watch?vsnrK5z3u3I
The song itself isn't about someone dying, but his performance and the orchestration and the beautiful song just hit me and I had an image of Ryan trying to deal with Chad's death, thus this fic. I suggest watching it before reading the fic, but if you need some mood music, I suggest anything depressing.
A big thanks to my friend Greg from Livejournal for beta-ing this for me! Well, the first half anyway since I couldn't wait for him to send back the rest before posting it!
Also, for clarification, a vacation can is something my family does. We put loose change in an old coffee can and when it's full we roll all the change and deposit it into our savings account so we can have a vacation once we have enough!
I'm a bit nervous about this fic, mainly because it's the most "real" fic I've written. I used my memories from watching my sister go through losing her best friend in a car crash in high school for Ryan's reactions, so please be gentle and let me know what you think of it!
Enough chatter, on to the fic.
Ryan's tired eyes swept the somewhat tidy living room of their apartment washed in the grey pre-dawn light, looking but not seeing. A sweatshirt hung over the back of the dark green couch and the Wildcat red burned bright in the dim room. His face tingled with tears as he picked up the clothing and shuffled to the bedroom just beyond the doorway.
The bed sat unmade, old t-shirts, boxers and sweatpants mingled with the blue and white sheets. Chad had knocked over the vacation can yesterday morning as he rushed out, and coins still lay scattered across the pale blue carpet, glinting in the faint light filtering through the blinds. Ryan ignored them and slowly settled into the jumble of clothes and blankets, his numb hands still clutching the worn sweatshirt.
Ryan inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of the room. It smelled like him, it smelled like them, it smelled a way it would never smell again because Chad …
No, don't think about it, he ordered himself as he blinked his vision clear and rubbed away the tingling sensation of impending tears. It will all be okay if you just don't think about it. Go to sleep. He snuggled deeper into the blankets, kicked aside his pajamas from yesterday morning and covered his chilled body with the thick comforter. He closed his heavy lids and forced away the memories of Chad's battered body lying fragile in the hospital bed, and focused on the silence of the room instead of the ghostly noise of the heart monitor flat lining, barely loud enough to drown out Ryan's harsh sobs…
Ryan knew before he opened his eyes that someone else was in the apartment. The sound of running water met his ears and he nearly leapt out of bed.
"Chad?" He whispered through chapped lips, his still-sleepy mind promised him the past twenty-four hours had simply been a dream and the man he loved was in the kitchen, finally doing his chores as promised.
He would find Chad standing barefoot in his jeans and the sweater he bought just last week, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He would turn and grin, dripping soapy water on the tile floor. Ryan would sit on the counter next to the sink and tell him of the terrible nightmare he had and Chad would kiss his forehead and warn him not to eat leftover Chinese before bed.
Ryan didn't realize he still clutched Chad's favorite piece of clothing in his hand as he untangled his heavy limbs from the blankets and rushed through the living room, nearly tripping over the rug, their first purchase for the apartment, and rounded the corner sharply.
He choked back a sob at the sight of Taylor leaning against the sink full of soapy water and dirty dishes. Tears threatened again at the absurd hope that had coursed through his body in the past thirty seconds, and Ryan grabbed the doorframe as he knees tried to give out.
Taylor turned at Ryan's suppressed cry and noted with concern his pale face bruised with dark circles beneath his eyes. Her eyes flicked to the shirt in his hand but said nothing while dragging a dining room chair for him to sit in.
"I figured you could use some help," she explained as she forced him into the chair. Chad had wanted them to buy a small bench for the kitchen so they could talk, he hated having to yell when he cooked and Ryan sat at the dining room table. "But if you want me to leave, just say the word."
Ryan didn't answer, just sat in the small wooden chair, staring blankly at the floor as his hands twisted the red cloth over and over again. Taking his silence as an answer she returned to the never-ending pile of plates crusted with mashed potatoes and glasses sticky with soda. Chad always did his weekly duties at the last possible minute and griped about the difficulties of it. Ryan lovingly scolded him saying if he did the dishes as the week passed they wouldn't be so hard to clean.
"I thought-" Ryan stuttered, cutting himself off, though his voice could barely be heard over the running water. He couldn't bear to voice his last hope. "It was Chad's week to do the dishes." Immediately the water stopped and Taylor faced him. "He always leaves them until the end."
"I can stop," she offered as she stepped closer, placing a hand still warm from the dishwater on his shoulder.
"No, it's okay, I don't think I could do it myself right now." The thought that Chad would never have the chance to complain about the chores again made Ryan's breath hitch in his throat and he leaned his head against the cool refrigerator door.
"I made you a casserole," Taylor continued as she systematically washed, rinsed and stacked the deep blue dishes he and Chad chose when they bought the apartment. "It's better than the old Chinese in there."
"Thanks," Ryan muttered as he cushioned his head with the soft Wildcat memorabilia. They sat in comfortable silence, but Ryan's brain refused to shut down.
He had ordered that takeout last week when Chad came home from a bad practice that ran late. Ryan cheered him up with his favorite film and food. Tears dropped down the bridge of Ryan's nose and he inhaled deeply. "I don't think I can do this," he whispered shakily. Taylor instantly appeared at his side and brushed his messy blond hair from his eyes.
"I'll help you. My boss gave me as much time as I needed from work. I'll be here for you through everything."
Ryan smiled and wrapped his arms around her torso, grateful for the touch of another human being. Even so, Ryan felt as though he could never be warm again. She continued to pet the top of his head, the way his mother used to do when he lived at home and he wondered at Taylor's courage.
"How are you not a mess?" He asked after a moment. "He's your best friend."
"It's how I cope," she answered with a shrug. "When my grandfather died I cleaned our house from top to bottom. I even alphabetized the medicine cabinet."
Ryan's laugh came out more like a sharp hiccup, but it was better than crying. Taylor had been a staple in his and Chad's life since the three of them ended up in North Carolina four years ago. She had supplanted Troy's role of best friend when he and Gabriella stayed in Albuquerque to pursue a basketball career and cancer research, respectively. They both performed in U of A theatrical productions in their spare time.
While Sharpay left for California and never looked back, Troy remained Chad's brother and they spoke at least once a week on the phone.
"Oh my God, Troy!" Ryan said suddenly. "I have to call Troy! I have to call Chad's parents! I have to-"
"Hey, slow down!" Taylor said, refusing to let go as Ryan tried to wriggle from her grasp. "One thing at a time, and let me help. I can call the Danforths, but shouldn't the hospital have called them?"
"No," Ryan answered as he continued to pull away from Taylor's arms. "Chad and I list-listed-each other in case of emergencies, next of kin and that sort of thing..." Chad came out to his parents at his high school graduation dinner with Ryan holding his hand under the restaurant table. His parents said nothing, they didn't want to cause a scene in a public place, but later that night Chad showed up at Ryan's door, bags in hand. They had told him he should go to college but could never come home. He and Ryan had lived together ever since.
Finally Ryan slipped through Taylor's arms and strode the few steps to the counter and began rifling through the drawer beneath the phone. "I can call them; I mean even though Chad hated them they were still his parents. I don't think they liked me very much, but someone's got to tell them and if they don't listen to me then you can give it a try."
Paperclips and broken pencils flew from the drawer as Ryan's actions grew more frantic. "Damn it Chad!" He yelled, slamming the drawer shut. Taylor did nothing, simply sat in the chair and waited. "I must have asked him a hundred times to put the address book in this drawer. He never listens."
Tears slipped again and he brushed them away angrily. Why did this happen? Why couldn't God or whoever just leave them alone?
Ryan slammed his hand on the counter and let out a small sob. "It's not fair," he cried as he turned to face Taylor, now on the brink of tears. "We were happy! You believe in God, right?" Taylor nodded. "Then explain why God did this to us because I'm having a hard time understanding it."
"I don't know," she answered thickly. "He has a plan for each of us, and His for Chad had finished. He wanted him in Heaven."
"Well, He should have asked me first!" Ryan shouted. "How could He think that life would be better without Chad here? If He's all knowing then He knows-He knows I can't-," Ryan's sobs took over for a minute and the kitchen filled with brokenhearted crying. "Damn it Chad!" Ryan whispered once his tears had subsided. "Why did you take your seatbelt off?"
Both Taylor and Ryan jumped when the shrill ring of the phone shattered their silence. Ryan snagged it off the hook and took a deep breath before pressing the "speak" button.
"Hello?" His voice shook. Please don't ask for Chad.
"May I speak to Ryan Evans-Danforth please?" A young woman's voice asked.
"This is he," Ryan answered as tears threatened again. He had shared Chad's name for two years, when North Carolina allowed the legality of gay marriages. He wasn't an Evans anymore, so now who would he be?
"I'm calling from the morgue at St. Mercy Hospital. Your- uh, Mr. Danforth-Evans' effects are ready for you to collect." He and Chad had fought over whose name they should use until finally they agree to just hyphenate. Even so, very few people, friends excluded, used the traditional terminology when it came to Ryan and Chad's marriage.
"I'll be there soon." Ryan's stomach dropped as he hung up the phone. He couldn't even get through a conversation without thinking about Chad and bursting into tears. Could he really go through his things, especially what he had with him when he died?
"That was the hospital," he explained, his back still turned toward Taylor. "They have Chad's things for me to pick up."
Taylor stood and without a word, grabbed her purse on the on the counter next to the stove and began digging for her keys. Ryan turned at the movement.
"I'm going with you," she declared. "At the very least you need someone to drive you and I'm cheaper than a cab."
They drove the short distance in silence; Taylor struggled to keep her focus on the road while Ryan struggled not to cry.
"Do you want me to come in?" She asked once they had found an empty spot in the crowded parking lot. Ryan shook his head and just s he reached for the door handle, his cell buzzed. Without thinking he grabbed it and panicked slightly at the name on the view screen.
"It's Troy." His hard grip on the door handle tightened. He glanced at Taylor imploringly. "What do I do?"
"You have to answer it, they need to know."
Ryan took a deep breath before flipping open his phone. "Hello?"
"Hey Ryan!" Troy's voice sounded too sharp, too happy in Ryan's ear. He could imagine the poster-boy grin on his fake tanned face. "What's up?"
"Actually Troy, um, there's something you should know."
"Is it why Chad hasn't been answering his phone? I've been trying all morning! Gabi and I want to visit you guys this weekend, she says it's been forever since we've seen you!" Chad always looked forward to seeing Troy; they would go off and discuss sports while shooting hoops in the community court while Ryan would stay at home with Gabriella and gossip. Tears streamed down Ryan's face and his throat tightened. Taylor held his free hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
"Troy, listen," Ryan interrupted the basketball star's babbling stream of conversation. Ryan didn't think he could hold on much longer. "It's about Chad-"
"Is he okay?" The fear in Troy's voice shook Ryan, making it almost impossible to form the words.
"No, it's not. There-there was an accident and," Ryan took a loud breath, forcing his tears back. "Chad, he didn't have his seatbelt on and, well, he-they brought him to the hospital but, they-he-" Just four more words. "Chad didn't make it." The last part came out in rush and Ryan couldn't speak anymore, his tears stole his voice. Silence followed and Ryan thought that his phone had dropped the call.
"You're lying." Troy accused. "Or the reception is bad, because I couldn't have heard you right. Ryan, what did you say?"
"I'm not lying, Troy. Chad…died this morning." The word stung and he shook at the reality of it and Troy's unexpected reaction.
"No, he can't be." Troy probably didn't mean for his voice to crack. "It can't be true." Ryan could hear the tears in his voice and wish he could comfort Troy and knew he shouldn't be alone at the moment.
"Is Gabriella with you?"
"She just walked in. Call me with the details, okay? Or if you need anything. We'll get the next flight in."
"Okay. You can stay at our place." Ryan took another deep breath as he shut his phone. He looked over at Taylor, who still held his hand and smiled gratefully. Chad had always been his anchor, and while Taylor could never replace him, she kept him from floating away.
Ryan told Taylor he could do this alone, but as he walked through the brightly lit lobby and the memories of rushing through the same space twelve hours ago, afraid for Chad's life, he wished she had come along.
He didn't hear the receptionist's words, he could only focus on the ragged heaves of Chad's final breaths, his own whispered prayers and the last time he said "I love you."
Somehow he navigated the basement and found the correct desk, where a pale, bored looking woman sat. She too, went unheard and Ryan went through the motions of signing papers and providing proper identification and soon a small box burned in his hands. Is this all we come to, he wonders as Taylor drives him home. A shoebox?
Ryan convinced Taylor he would be fine alone and had spent the past twenty minutes engulfed in Chad's sweatshirt staring at the small box on the bed in front of him. Should he open it? Could he?
Finally he pulled the cardboard lid away and stared at the objects he knew so well looking very foreign in their temporary home. Slowly he picked through them, looking for the one he needed the most.
Chad's cell phone, a bit battered but still functional, displayed 10 missed calls and half a dozen voicemails. Ryan imagined he could still feel the warmth of Chad's hand when he touched it.
The worn leather wallet Chad has had since before he met Ryan, now bursting with pictures of them, of Taylor and of his team. Ryan couldn't bear to see their smiles right now.
His keys jangled with key chains including the pewter basketball Ryan bought him to celebrate his new position as coach of the local high school team. The black details almost didn't exist anymore, Chad liked to roll it between his finger and thumb whenever he had his keys in hand.
Finally Ryan saw it: Chad's wedding ring. He picked it up with trembling fingers, his vision blurred once more by tears. They had bought identical silver rings with the date engraved inside since neither of them could come up with any saying that didn't sound cheesy or corny.
The ring slipped easily over his own, he had always teased Chad about having big hands, to which his husband would answer with an innuendo and a devious smile.
Ryan smiled through his tears at the memory before falling onto the pillows and curling into a ball above the covers and clothes. If he closed his eyes and just breathed he could feel Chad's arms around him, feel his lean muscled body against his back and feel his lips pressed against his neck.
I can't do this. I need you.
The ghost arms squeezed tighter and Ryan's tears fell faster.