Author's Note: This little gem was born completely out of a need to do some writing. I have all these prompts lying around, but this one only incorporated one of them. One of these days I'll get to covering them all.
Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical. It'd be nice, though.
Ryan lays in his bed, his sky blue comforter with little yellow ducks littering it pulled up to his throat. He reaches out with an arm and pulls open the oak dresser drawer. Scrabbling for a minute, his lithe fingers find the small black journal with a single black ribbon marking a particular spot. He ignores the ribbon as he sits up a little, the comforter drooping off of him slightly.
Sighing contentedly as he locates the group of entries he wants, he stops flipping the pages and begins to read.
It was the first time they failed to color-coordinate their outfits together for school, and Sharpay was outraged.
"Come on, Ryan! It's the first day! We've got to look fabulous!" she screeched through his door.
She got no response, so she whacked on it again.
In the midst of her third whack, the door swung open and she nearly hit her brother in the face.
A second later, she wished she had.
He was dressed in a simple navy blue polo shirt and a pair of...
...a pair of...
...blue jeans.
"JEANS?!" she screamed.
Ryan rolled his eyes.
"Yes, sis. Jeans. I like them. I'm wearing them. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with my complaint department," he advised her, holding up his middle finger.
She huffed, unable to find her words for a moment.
But just a moment.
"Fine!" she half-yelled, half-spat. She made an abrupt about-face and returned to her room, slamming the door.
Ryan was her brother! Her twin brother! He was supposed to be her partner in everything! He was supposed to help her make an entrance! The first day--their last first day--was so important, and he was ruining everything!
Even if those jeans gave him an ass, which she previously thought was impossible.
And now that he wasn't wearing a hat, he chose to spike up and out his hair, which looked really good.
And he was smiling, even when he flipped her off.
Weren't those all good things?
They were, she knew, but they weren't quite as important as how she was feeling. She was feeling rejected, dejected, and completely unwanted. Their first day of senior year was going to be so horrible, and it was all because Ryan had chosen to grow a backbone.
How irritating.
(But she was proud of him. So very proud. But she tried not to say it. She didn't want him to get a big head. She could imagine how bad that might be.)
Purse in hand, she exited the mansion and found Ryan waiting by her car.
"Aren't you going to get a ride with one of your Wildcat friends?" she sneered.
Ryan shook his head, smiling.
"We always drive to school together, Shar. It's a tradition. Why would I want to give that up?" he asked.
Sharpay's sneer dissipated slowly as she unlocked the car with the push of a button.
He always knew just what to say, to everyone.
(She was so, so very proud. But she scowled as he fiddled playfully with the radio and she told him his sandals were completely last month.)
As she parked the car, Ryan clambered out of the car and kindly waited for her to catch up. They walked into the school together, hand-in-hand.
"Ryan! Hey, dude, what's up?" Chad greeted him from the right.
Ryan immediately broke to go talk to him without another word to Sharpay. Kelsi, Martha, Taylor, and the rest of the Wildcats greeted him in turn, everyone exchanging hugs or even kisses on the cheek (with Martha and Gabriella). They laughed and joked and smiled, revelling in each other.
And for once, Sharpay Evans found herself completely and totally jealous of her brother.
"You're a little flat on the "oo", Troy. Picture it like this," Ryan started, fishing in his pants pocket until he found a rubber band. Troy didn't know why Ryan carried rubber bands in his pants pockets, but he wasn't about to ask.
Ryan stretched the rubber band vertically, making a large, long, pseudo-oval.
"That's the "oo" in the back of your mouth, and you've got to make room for it. That's where the sound's really going to come from," Ryan continued.
Troy nodded.
"Okay, Kelsi, minor scales again. Just up two, hold the third, then come back down, Troy," Ryan instructed. Kelsi played a minor scale again, and this time Troy matched it, remembering Ryan's rubber band.
"Excellent! Up a half-step," Ryan said. Both he and Kelsi obliged.
The process continued, Ryan putting Troy through his vocal paces. They did scales, tongue-twisters, and even a bit of the duet from the musicale (Ryan sang Gabriella's part).
"I think you're about as warmed up as you're gonna be, Troy! Unless there's anything else you wanted to do...?" Ryan asked. Troy shook his head.
"All right, cool. I've gotta go get my costume and make-up and all that, so if I don't see ya, break a leg!" Ryan wished.
"You too," Troy called back as Ryan zipped out the door. Kelsi was quick behind him, giving Troy a small supportive smile as she abandoned the music room as well.
Troy sat down on her piano bench, and put his head in his hands. It was opening night, and he was a wreck. He wondered how Ryan did it time after time, lead after lead; even now, playing his best friend, which was a smaller role, but still important.
"I guess we're going to be working together a lot, huh?" Ryan grinned as Troy came offstage, Gabriella holding his hand tightly.
"We are?" Troy managed. Gabriella elbowed him lightly, giggling.
"Miss Darbus said whichever pair didn't get the leads would get the next best roles. So I guess you're Tim and Sharpay's Jenny, right?" Gabriella asked.
Ryan nodded, still grinning.
"Yup. It's going to be a little weird, not being the leading man, but it's all cool. You two really deserve it," he enthused, and Troy knew instantly he meant every word, "And Sharpay thinks that, too. It's just going to take her a bit to tell you. You know, in the Sharpay way," he added, his smile tightening a little.
Troy and Gabriella chuckled at the joke.
"It'll be a lot of fun," Gabriella agreed, then looked at her watch. "The fire alarm system should be fixing itself anytime now, so I guess we should get you back to your boys, Troy," she said.
They started for the stairs, and when Troy didn't hear anyone behind him, he let go of Gabriella's hand and turned around.
"You comin', dude?" he asked.
Ryan looked surprised.
"You want me there?" he replied.
"Sure, man! You're a Wildcat, aren't ya?" Troy said simply.
Ryan's grin stretched so much Troy thought it would fly off of his face as Ryan hurried to catch up.
It wouldn't be too bad when they were onstage. When he was up there performing that first scene in dress rehearsals, just him and Ryan, it all just started to flow. He didn't know why. He guessed it was because Ryan was so good at making everybody relaxed. He was always offering to give back massages and led everyone in pre-show physical warm-ups, usually yoga.
But until the curtain was pulled, the composed teenager formerly known as Troy Bolton was going to be a jumbled mass of nerves.
Kelsi cringed. It was her third wrong note in the past ten minutes. The alma mater just wasn't working today.
She pushed the piano bench back with force and heaved herself to her feet. She needed to get away.
She went for a walk, and as she walked, images inspired thoughts that revived more memories.
A poster for the play, A Midsummer's Night Dream, reminded her of a time when he found solace in the theater. It was the one place she saw him really light up, but oddly enough, it was only when he was somebody else. When he wasn't acting, wasn't dancing, wasn't singing, he was just as desolate as usual. She wanted to say something to try and cheer him up, but she never did. Why would an Evans listen to the insignificant little pianist?
Even after the events of junior year and Lava Springs, Kelsi didn't say much to Ryan. She joked with him, as she did with everyone, but it was only when there were a lot of people around. When it was just the two of them, they barely spoke. It was nice, she told herself, to listen to the silence.
A glittering trophy reminded her of the Star Dazzle award, when he showed his true colors. He had managed to conceive the scheme all on his own, but he needed her help to execute it.
"Kelsi," he said, "Do you have a song about forgiveness?"
Kelsi balked for a moment, blinking rapidly.
"I have a couple, yeah. Why?" she replied.
She was surprised when he explained it all to her. It was slightly insensitive of her, she later noted, that she had never thought Ryan could come up with something so elaborately perfect. It was almost poetic justice. So she helped him and together they made the Show a rousing success. He got the award; she got to take a special bow. That was good enough.
A pencil on the floor reminded her of the staff baseball game, when he had been thrown away by Sharpay. She had been there when it happened. She had seen his pain. His expression was akin to one he would wear if he had been told his mother had been caught stealing a pack of gum. It was completely unexpected. When it sunk in, the hurt showed, and he lashed out. She wanted to say sorry, or even hug him, but she held back. That wasn't appropriate. They weren't friends or anything. She was just his accompianist, nothing more.
The door to the music room reminded her of yesterday, when he left. The walk to clear her head ended here, as she knew it would. She hadn't dealt with it, and she hadn't wanted to, but she knew she had to soon.
"Kelsi," he whispered, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers. Soft. Inviting. Opening.
Threatening to swallow her whole.
She stood, numb and afraid, too afraid to change anything, too afraid to move, to give in to him like she wanted to, like she'd wanted for so long.
She stood as he ended the kiss. Stood as he examined her expression. Stood as he shook his head and slowly walked away. Stood as the door shut gently behind him.
He was leaving, today, after the graduation ceremony. Said he was going to try his luck in New York. They all promised to see his first big show on Broadway.
But she knew she couldn't. She was too afraid to change the status quo.
Thus, after tonight, Kelsi Nielson would erase him from her life entirely, like the wrong notes she had been playing.
Martha heard the catcall from the audience and knew it was him. It took him a minute to find his bearings and get to his feet, but there he was. He was like a big blond pillar right in the front row, beaming like the sun itself had landed in the theater.
Her smile turned into a real one as she grabbed Jason's hand and bowed. He had been so sweet to step in for Ryan, and he'd done a great job. He didn't have Ryan's natural grace or his ability to light up a room, but he had rhythm and strength. In the end, those were all that mattered; it was the girl who caught the audience's eye.
She caught his eye when Miss Darbus announced tryouts for the all-school talent show a month ago. He grinned, and nodded. They had been dancing together at parties for weeks, eager to appreciate the music in any way they could. He taught her to swing. She taught him to grind. They laughed, they grinned, and they danced.
"You were great," he praised breathlessly, encapsulating her in a crushing hug. It was brief, but it meant so much. Nobody hugged her, not even her own parents.
"Thanks. You were great, too!" she replied, grinning widely as they broke apart.
They had made it. They were in the show. And they were going to win!
Then, just after tryouts, Ryan broke his leg on a skiing trip. He apologized endlessly to her, promising to make it up. She told him not to worry about it and concern himself with getting better. Of course, Ryan never listened.
He recruited Jason, and together the two of them taught the boy how to dance. He already knew a little. His basketball training gave him the athletic speed he needed. She and Ryan did the rest, she guiding him from the waist, Ryan correcting him from his crutches.
After those three long weeks, the talent show came. Jason danced with her just as he should, devoid of all of Ryan's fervor but going through the motions just as effortlessly, doing the best that he could for her. She, on the other hand, threw herself into the performance, giving everyone a great show but dedicating it, in her mind, to Ryan.
Jason's hand in hers was clammy and rugged as they accepted the applause for their win. It wasn't at all like Ryan's, so small and yet so warm.
She looked down once more at his beaming face, glowing with pride. Then she followed Jason off the stage.
He would be back on his feet again, literally, soon.
Then she could stop feeling like some part of Martha Cox was missing when she moved to the beat.
"What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Do I have a booger?" Chad asked, self-consciously reaching for his nose.
"We just..." Zeke began.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Gabriella interrupted firmly, pasting on a smile. "But if you're sure you're okay...?" she asked, staring at him intently.
He smiled. It was brittle, but it was a smile.
"I'll be okay," he promised.
And so the matter dropped.
For them.
But for Chad, it couldn't. It wouldn't. When Miss Darbus skipped from "Ellenstein, Jamie" right to "Evans, Sharpay", he felt it. When he looked at the empty chair in homeroom, he felt it. When someone starting humming in third period, he felt it. When they were eating Ryan's favorite food at lunch, french fries, he felt it.
He felt it everywhere he went. The school seemed to bleed Ryan from every poster, locker, and student.
Ryan, in the passenger seat. Pale white skin shredded by the glass of the windshield. Crimson freckles adorning his body. Eyes staring into the nameless void.
It was guilt.
He had been so eager to take his new car out for a drive. He thought he and Ryan could have one of their talks that they'd been having since the staff baseball game at Lava Springs. He was so happy, and so was Ryan.
"Chad!" Ryan yelled. A blue sportscar was running the red light. Chad jerked the wheel, but it was too late.
He wanted it to be him. He wanted it to be anyone else, anyone but Ryan. Ryan was so innocent. So carefree. So not the guy who should have died. Not that young. Not even when he was eighty. Ryan was supposed to live forever, be in his life forever, just like Troy and Taylor and Zeke and Jason, not die, never die, not Ryan, not Ryan...
...Not when he didn't get to say good-bye.
But he went on, lived on, if only as a shadow of his former self. Nobody tried to talk to him about it, tried to get him to get past his grief. One look at his eyes, haunted by hollow memories, and they would all lose their nerve.
For all intents and purposes, Chad Danforth died that night, too.
"I'm not going to do it anymore," Ryan told him, pushing the cookies back into his hands.
"What?" Zeke exclaimed, wide-eyed.
"You should give them to her yourself. Just trust me," Ryan advised, smiling as he shut his locker and walked away.
There Zeke stood for the next five minutes before finally coming to his senses.
For the past couple of weeks, Ryan had been helping him to woo Sharpay by giving her various baked goods. All of them had a little sticker on top of the plastic wrap that said "From: Your Secret Admirer".
He had been nervous, at first, but Ryan had seemed like a nice guy in class. He had been cool after the championship game, and at the after-party (both of the Evans twins had come to the party, something that had shocked him, because the Evans' never came to anybody's parties...they held their own!). So he approached him and asked him if he would do it.
"You want me to give these to my sister. From a secret admirer," Ryan deadpanned for a minute.
Zeke flushed.
"Uh, yeah," he stammered.
Ryan looked at him for a moment, then broke into a half-smirk, half-smile.
"All right. I'll do it," he agreed.
Now he was on his own.
"Don't you have basketball practice or something?" a voice asked, somewhat haughty and demanding. He turned around.
Of course: Sharpay.
"Uh, yeah, but not for a few more minutes. Want some cookies?" he asked, handing out the plate of still-wrapped cookies, complete with the "Secret Admirer" sticker.
Sharpay noticed it.
"Someone's sending you stuff, too? Must be a new fad," Sharpay observed, uncovering a cookie and biting into it. "Mmm. Yours are almost as good as mine were. Guess you'd like a girl who can cook, right?" she half-joked.
Zeke laughed, somewhat self-consciously. Was this Sharpay being...nice?
"Well, I have to get to practice. Goodness knows Gabriella needs all the training I can give her. She's so hopeless. Ugh. I don't know how Darbus ever picked her over me. Well, toodles!" she waved, and he nearly dropped dead when he saw her smiling at him.
She was smiling.
At him.
He managed a half-wave before sinking against the lockers. He thought he couldn't do it without Ryan's help, but...
Well, actually...
...He did have Ryan's help, after all. Ryan had encouraged him to give Sharpay the cookies. Clearly the idea had been in his mind when Sharpay had come along purely because Ryan had suggested it. He never would have thought to do it on his own; he was far too afraid of being rejected to do that.
He smiled and sunk a little lower against the lockers, taking a cookie as a reward for a job well done.
Coach Bolton called "Zeke Baylor" twice during roll call for practice that afternoon, and got no response.
"Okay, now which one has more ionization energy: Bromine or Fluorine?" Taylor asked.
Ryan sighed.
"Uh...Fluorine?" he guessed.
Taylor frowned.
"And can you tell me why?" she pressed.
Ryan thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"It's no use, Taylor," he said dejectedly, "I'm just too dumb to get Chemistry."
Taylor's eyes widened.
"You want me to memorize the whole periodic table?" Ryan screeched.
Taylor rolled her eyes.
"You can learn over a hundred lines in no time, flat. How is this different?" she jibed.
She chose not to notice his almost-attempt at a response before giving in to the challenge.
She bit her lip.
"Ouch!" Ryan yelled, jerking his hand away from the crucible.
"Crucible tongs, Ryan! Always use the tongs!" Taylor shouted, running over. She adjusted the burner so that the ammonia wouldn't dissipate too fast, then checked in on Ryan.
"How's your fingers?" she asked.
"I'll be fine," he assured her, grinning.
She chose not to notice his grin slip as he picked up the tongs to replace the crucible in the evaporating dish.
She took a deep breath.
"Oh, here it is! You multiplied when you should have added," Taylor informed him, pointing out the mistake in the problem they'd been poring over for the past ten minutes.
"Thanks, Taylor. I don't know how I missed that one," Ryan admitted, grinning at his foolishness.
"It's no problem. Simple error," she assured.
She chose not to notice him seem a little sad at that, as if he were unhappy being tripped up by such a simple, common mistake.
"You're not stupid, Ryan. I am. I haven't really been the best tutor," Taylor admitted, leaning forward to take Ryan's hand in both of hers, "I keep forgetting that you've never had this before. It's all second nature to me. Like...like jazz squares are to you," she explained.
He smiled at that.
"But you're doing great, you really are. Look how far you've come in just a couple months. You're up to an 82! For a guy who was close to failing, you're lookin' pretty good now," she joked, winking.
He smiled wider, and laughed a little.
"Now let's see if you can handle molecular shapes," Taylor prompted.
Ryan nodded, and she unpacked the notes she had on the subject for him with more care than before. It was perhaps the best tutoring session she had given anyone, she later decided.
And this time, Taylor McKessie chose to notice that the spark of learning-hunger had returned to his eyes.
It was homeroom, and they were working on some last-minute homework before the day officially began. All except one, who was looking around at the room.
Jason knew he didn't notice a lot of things. He wasn't...what was the word his friends had used? Perceptive? Yeah, that was it. He wasn't perceptive.
But he did notice some stuff, some stuff that he'd been noticing all homeroom long.
Like how when Gabriella walked into the room, Troy always noticed, and always smiled.
Like how when Taylor couldn't solve a problem, she never asked for help, just kept working at it until she finally figured it out.
Like how when Chad peeked around the room when he didn't know the answer on a test or a homework problem.
Like how Ryan and Zeke always made sure to leave their papers within Chad's spying distance.
Like how when Ryan left a room, everything seemed to get a little darker.
He wasn't sure why he noticed that last one. He knew he wasn't attracted to him (he liked Kelsi very much, thank you!). He knew he wasn't really fascinated by him. He just knew that when Ryan left a room, some of his energy seemed to go with him.
Maybe it was because of his clothes.
He shrugged.
Ryan was a nice guy. He just wore really fancy clothes and hats, that was all. But he was cool.
Jason raised his hand to go to the bathroom. He noticed that Ryan usually left during homeroom to go to the bathroom, but he hadn't gone yet, so Jason figured it was okay to go.
But for all these things Jason noticed, he missed a few big ones.
Like how when Gabriella walked into the room, Sharpay sometimes forgot to scowl Gabriella's way.
Like how when Taylor couldn't solve a problem, Chad watched her, concerned.
Like how when Chad peeked around the room, Martha shook her head and laughed to herself at Chad's inability to study.
Like how when Ryan left his paper within Chad's eyesight, he forgot to make his letters big enough for Chad to see from his desk.
Like how when Ryan came back from the bathroom, his eyes were sometimes a little red, and his hat a little askew from its already-askew angle.
Like how when he signed Jason Cross to the restroom ledger and left the room, Ryan's face got a little darker.
Gabriella was bored.
She had read all of the books in her library.
Twice.
She had done the dishes, washed the laundry, hung it outside to dry, and even vacuumed the entire house.
It had been a week since she had quit her job at Lava Springs, and she was so incredibly bored that she was about to start crank calling people for something to do.
She missed that place more than she thought she would. She missed seeing Troy, of course. And she missed looking down at all of the happy people splashing about in the water. And she missed her talks with Ryan.
She hadn't expected the pseudo-fashionista to be so enthralling, but he was. He was always so cheerfully upbeat in the mornings that she couldn't help but mirror him--and she was most certainly not a morning person in the slightest. They always talked as she was setting up the pool in the mornings, even before the staff baseball game.
"Hey, Gabriella," he greeted, just like always, waving and grinning.
"You know, you're the only one who calls me that," she replied, grinning back. He gave her a confused look.
"Isn't that your name?" he asked.
She giggled.
"Of course it is, silly! But, I mean, everyone always shortens it. You know, like 'Gab' or 'Gabby' or even 'Brie' every once in a while," she explained.
He seemed a bit crestfallen, so she went on.
"But I like that about you. So don't change it," she affirmed, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. He perked up immediately, beaming.
They talked about so many things. He confessed that sometimes he really didn't like Sharpay. She admitted that Troy's eyes weren't really that blue.
"Contacts?" he screeched, pleasantly flabbergasted, "The mighty Troy Bolton has to wear contacts? Oh, this is just too good..." he revelled, beaming from ear to ear.
She smacked him lightly on the arm.
"Hey! That's my boyfriend you're talking about there, buster!" she teased, grinning.
"Oh, I didn't mean it, you know that. I know Troy's not like that," he admitted.
She wasn't so sure.
She absently checked her phone for messages, smiling at Ryan's smiley-face text greeting he sent that morning. She had his number, and thought briefly about calling him, but she didn't want to bother him. He was probably hard at work getting the Wildcats ready for their--
Oh.
Right.
Sharpay had ruined that.
"I mean, she's my sister, but...well, she's my sister. Sometimes I just want to sell her to a band of really smelly gypsies that knit all day long. Is that a bad thing?"
She sighed and turned off her phone.
Maybe there was a new episode of Mythbusters on.
If she had kept it on, she would have readily saved Ryan the drive over to convince her to come back to Lava Springs and sing at the Talent Show. But she couldn't have known.
His phone displayed the message "Gabriella Montez...Unavailable", but she couldn't know.
Ryan smiles to himself and sets the journal down on his bedside table. He casts off the comforter and stretches in the bed, yawning as he looks out the window. It is a little past dawn; the sun is just peeking out from within its cradle between the craggy plateaus of New Mexico in the distance.
His eyes rove about his room until they come to rest again on the little black journal. Its entries always helped him to remember things. Most of them were true stories, so he was literally remembering things that had happened to him. Of course, he was guessing at the others' reactions, but he hoped that he had been accurate when he wrote them.
He only made up the entries when he was feeling particularly down, like Kelsi's and Chad's that he had just read.
Even then, the stories helped him to remember what he meant to his friends and sister. Sometimes he forgot.
He usually tended to forget when he was shaving. He had an electric shaver that did a wonderful job, but sometimes he wanted to do things the normal way, so he used disposable razors. Some mornings, but not too often, he would be in a mood. He would stare at the razor and wonder if cutting himself would really make him feel better. A lot of other kids he'd read about did it and almost got addicted to the pain.
But then he'd remember one of his entries, usually one of the sadder ones where he died, and he'd use the razor properly: on his face. It would be completely childish--and selfish--to do something like that. Moreover, he just couldn't hurt his friends and family. Not if they reacted anything like they did in his entries.
The journal helped him to remember that he had his sad moments, too, and his weak ones. There were times when he didn't feel like being cheerful, and that bothered him. He was supposed to be the happy one in his circle of friends, kind of like Gabriella's male counterpart. He was the encouraging, sweet, nice one. That was his role.
But more and more often, he found himself not quite as happy as he needed to be. He would wake up, and the dawn wouldn't look so bright. It could be raining, maybe, or just cloudy, and he might feel a little hard-pressed to find that happy inspiration.
Then he would look to the journal, and it reminded him that it was okay to be unhappy sometimes. It was normal, more normal than being endlessly chipper and happy. Of course, that usually brightened him up and he would depart for the day feeling much better.
This morning, Ryan smiles at the journal. Then he swings himself out of bed and gets ready for school.
Hat on (he still likes wearing them, but he doesn't feel like he has to anymore, so he doesn't always wear one), clothes coordinated and on, and last night's homework in his hands, he leaves his room, shutting the door and the sun shining through his window with a soft click.
He is going to be Ryan Evans today, in all of his many facets, and he's going to love every second of it.
Author's Note: Did you enjoy it? Did you get confused? Have you anything to say about it at all? Then leave me a review. It only takes a few moments. :-)