Swans, a high school musical fanfic

Hello, me back again with another Chadpay story. Another songfic Chadpay story.

Originally, I was going to save this song for Addison's inevitable departure from GA, but then I realized that I'd heard this song on a GA episode, so obviously I can't use it. And then I was going to prototype a Chenzel fic with it, but then realized that I'd also heard it on a photo montage in a Chenzel com. So that was out, too. And really, where else can I angst without remorse?

That's right. In HSM. (God, I am such an angst whore.) I'm also experimenting with new ways of writing, so expect to see bipolar writing styles in any new fics coming up.

Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical, or "Swans" by Unkle Bob. Word of advice, listen to the song while you're reading, because it's just amazing. It's just...the lyrics are perfectly minimalist, and the instrumentals are so beautiful...

.
.
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By my side,
You'll never be.

She never intended for this to happen. (But that's how all stories start out, so she had to start over in her head.)

She never intended it to happen like this.

By my side,
You'll never be.

She never intended to see him at a party, an overcrowded party that too many people invited themselves to.

She didn't even know that he was going to be there.

They caught each other simultaneously, across the room, lips frozen into suddenly aching smiles, fingers gripping flutes too tightly.

She didn't run, because running was stupid. She let him navigate a sea of chattering socialites to get to her, where he pretended to know her starstruck conversationalist, and asked to be introduced to her.

He told her that he was a big fan.

She told him that she had no clue what he was doing with his life.

He realized she wasn't playing along.

Cos I'm fake at the seams,
I'm lost in my dreams,
And I, I want you to know
That I, I can't let you go.

He apologized. She asked why.

He made an all-encompassing gesture that was made to represent "everything."

She scoffed. (He was, at this point, still convinced that saying sorry would solve everything. Maybe he thought that she would accept it with sobbing eyes and a thank you and a proclamation of buried love.)

He frowned. He said he wasn't going to let her go this time, not now, not when he knew that she hadn't forgotten. She took his arm and steered him to a less open area, though the crowd gathered around the giant clock easily overrode their voices.

She said maybe, then, he was the one who hadn't forgotten. She mock-begged him not to tell her all about how he thought she would react.

She said it was in the past.

He said it wasn't over.

And you're never coming home again.
And you're never coming home again.

She said they weren't a scene from The Notebook. They never were.

He grabbed her wrists, thin pieces of glass in his hands.

He asked her if she meant it.

She didn't falter when she said she did.

By my side,
You'll never be

He didn't believe her.

She told him that he might as well. He didn't let go.

(He might say that he broke her heart, but now she was breaking his. She knew that they both broke their own hearts.)

By my side,
You'll never be.
You'll never be.

He told her that he wanted to say something. Seven years had passed, and he'd never gotten to say what he really meant.

She laughed. (Seven years was a long time.) She told him that he was the only one emotionally suspended in high school.

I wanted to tell you I'd changed.
I wanted to tell you that things would be different this time.

He said he wasn't. He said that he'd changed, he had, because now he looked back, now when he remembered high school, it all looked so stupid.

She rolled her eyes. (It wasn't an unusual retrospection.)

He said that the only thing that wasn't stupid was her. She was the only thing that he wanted to remember.

She asked why he still played basketball, if it seemed so stupid.

(Everyone around them counted down the last minutes of the year, a little too drunk to do it correctly.)

She told him, then, that she'd changed, too. She thought high school was stupid, too. She told him that he wasn't something she'd wanted to remember.

But I see you, you see me,
Differently.
I see you, you see me,
Differently.

(And it was then that she decided that she really didn't intend for it to happen this way. She didn't want her closure to come like this. In the end, she hated to disappoint her audience.

And her audience hated closure.)

He leaned in to kiss her, a mess, and she turned away, his lips unfamiliar against hers. (She'd pursed them so tightly because she didn't want to touch him any more than she had to.)

He slammed his palms against the wall, angry. She didn't react.

"Tell me it's over. Tell me it's all gone. Tell me that you're not still in love with me."

Her eyes blinked, but no tears fell from stiff lashes.

He demanded her to say something.

(Thirty seconds left in the year)