A/N: This was written per the request of an anonymous asker on Tumblr. I wound up having more fun than I expected while writing it, and I sincerely hope that you will enjoy it, as well, my dear readers.

And, no worries, part three of Parachute is coming along nicely and will be up soon.

Disclaimer: All characters and elements belonging to the High School Musical universe are the copyrighted material of Disney and Peter Barsocchini. Even if they mistreat certain characters who deserved exponentially and infinitely better than what they were handed.

Therefore, as you might have gathered, I have ownership claims to nothing other than the plot of this story.

Soft Pastels

Chad Danforth sprawled out on the ground behind the neatly clipped shrubbery lining the driveway in front of the Evans mansion. The bushy-haired athlete's head was light, sort of fuzzy, and he had found walking a bit more difficult than usual, but he wasn't intoxicated.

No.

Troy Bolton, Chad's best friend and brother, if blood relation wasn't taken into account, was the one who went and got himself so smashed, he broke down crying. From his very first beer that summer they all spent at Lava Springs, Troy had always been a lightweight. And, Evans- Ryan, the bushy-haired athlete mentally corrected himself, had to get all protective of Troy in an almost motherly fashion. Yeah, Chad decided, "motherly" feels pretty accurate. The blond had hugged Troy tightly, rubbed his backside, and murmured to the brunette in a low voice that Chad supposed was meant to be soothing.

Now, Chad wasn't homophobic. As far as he was concerned, people could be with whomever they damn well pleased, as long as their love affairs didn't directly interfere with his own personal goals. He loved Troy in that one-hundred percent platonic way that bros love their bros, and Troy and Ryan were happy together. A certain liveliness to Troy, one that had gradually diminished while he was with his ex-girlfriend, Gabriella Montez, had returned full force since he and Evans hooked up. And, Chad was happy for the both of them. Really.

But... sentimentality had never been Chad's strong suit. If he was honest with himself, a part of him almost envied the ease with which Troy went about spouting cheesy one-liners and making bold, sweeping romantic gestures. Troy was always the "sensitive one", even back in preschool, where he openly cried during a showing of Disney's The Fox and the Hound. In middle school, girls were swooning left and right over his personality- he was the one who made sure the nerdy kids were never picked last for teams in gym, even if they were clumsy and uncoordinated, and Chad had to work that much harder to pick up their slack- and his blue eyes. Sure, it was embarrassing, at times, to be associated with the dorky athlete who, back in high school, was friends with kids in the Science and Gardening clubs, and, after trying out for the school musical, of all things, became close friends with kids in the Drama club.

Troy's niceness was often a liability to his popularity. During their senior year, his suspiciously over-affectionate relationship with Evans, the kid who had the reputation of being his Ice Queen sister's "poodle", made Troy the target of a handful of teasing remarks and not-so subtle digs at his sexuality, especially among the other guys on the basketball team.

As the team captain, Troy had the luxury of choosing to ignore these comments.

Chad, on the other hand, heard every single word, and while he tended to smirk or snicker along with a handful of his teammates, for the most part, he brushed the insinuations aside. It wasn't like that. Troy was with Gabriella, the IQ temptress girl who'd managed to convince him to try out for the school musical. Occasionally, he'd break up the laughter to remind everyone of this on Troy's behalf, because, if only to maintain the team's solidarity, or maybe because he was just too damn nice, Troy never spoke up for himself when the teasing started.

Yet, Chad couldn't deny that sometimes, the implications seemed a little too on the mark, and even further added to his own suspicions about Troy's sexual preferences.

Oh, how right they all were.

Still, Troy was the best friend that a guy could ask for, and his level of comfort with that sentimental crap made him the go-to guy for advice on winning a girl's heart.

But... watching Troy communicate between sobs how much he loved Ev- Ryan, and Chad, and his dad, and that he felt like his shattered knee made him worthless, and Ryan assuring Troy that he "always was and always will be so much more than his ability to play basketball"...

For some reason, it was more than Chad could take. It was suffocating. He had to get out of there and get some air.

Standing up made the world spin a bit, and his legs had wobbled on his way out the front door, but Chad wasn't drunk.

No way.

Taylor McKessie, Chad's girlfriend, would kill him if he was.

The sound of heels clicking along the driveway became discernible. Chad moved his arm, and felt leaves and branches against his fingertips. Those footfalls and the sharp click of those heels was too familiar. Within a few seconds, or minutes, maybe- he wasn't quite sure, but he sure as hell wasn't disoriented from the alcohol- he could feel a penetrating stare burning the skin on his face. Chad didn't need to look up to confirm the identity of the owner of that piercing stare and those clicking heels. "Sharpay," he said simply. It required too much effort to curl his lip into a sneer, or even to narrow his eyes in an attempt to at least feign hostility toward the female Evans twin.

"Danforth-I mean, Chad." Sharpay tossed her golden curls over one shoulder, her nose pointed upward. Just as Chad had come to expect from her. "Why are you lying on the ground behind my bushes?" Her nose crinkled in detest, as if the mere prospect of plopping down on the grass was unfathomable to her.

Typical Sharpay. It would be an absolute disaster for her to get one measly little stain on her clothes. Chad wanted to scoff, but a snort of laughter came out instead.

"What's so funny?" Sharpay demanded, fixing a hand at her hip.

Chad didn't answer her. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he was suddenly noticing how Sharpay's hair shimmered in the moonlight. Seriously? How fucking lame, he chastised himself. He wasn't freaking Romeo, for god's sake.

"Um, hello?" Sharpay was unamused and losing her patience. Big surprise.

Please, when isn't she an uptight, high-maintenance-?

"You know, Chad. You're usually more timely with the comebacks." She paused. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

He could hear the coy, instigating little smirk in her voice. Chad hauled himself upright. "Don't you have somewhere else to be, and someone else to harass?"

"This is my house," she retorted. Her eyes lit up with a sort of fiendish glee. "You are drunk."

Whatever. This time, he managed a scoff. "I'm not gonna let you drag me into going back and forth with you, like in high school."

"Excuse you?" The very idea that she was trying to provoke him seemed to wound her pride. "Drag you into this? You're delusional and intoxicated."

"Maybe," Chad conceded. "But you're still standing here talking to me."

That gave Sharpay significant pause. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was visiting my best friend and his fiance. That's not illegal, now, is it?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "'Illegal', no. But laying down on the ground behind the bushes in my front yard is definitely suspicious."

Suspicious. What could he possibly-? Suspicious. "I could have gone to your room, instead. Would that have been more to her majesty's liking?"

That struck a chord. She gave a flustered stomp of her foot, and he could see color staining her cheeks.

It wasn't an altogether unpleasant image.

"On second thought, maybe I'll just leave you out here." Swerving haughtily, she began making her way up the steps of the front porch.

Chad hauled himself to his feet. He could feel the world swaying beneath him and he stumbled into the side of the house. His shoulder hit the wall harder than he liked and he could feel a faint pain fanning over his muscles.

Making a noise to suggest that she was soput upon, Sharpay paused. At least, it looked like she did. Honestly, her hair and dress were starting to resemble shapeless blurs more than solid, discernible, familiar objects.

"Shit," Chad let out a low laugh. If Troy was in his position, he'd have Evans rushing to his side, bracing him. Probably cooing in his freaking ear, "I've got you", and "everything's gonna be okay". Where was Chad's girlfriend? Studying. Burying her nose in her stupid textbooks. Not helping her boyfriend when he totally wasn't drunk off his ass and having to use the side of the freaking Evans estate for leverage.

A small hand came to rest on his backside and began firmly guiding him forward. "You owe me big timefor this. And, you better not puke on my dress. Or my shoes," Sharpay's voice advised him.

Oh God. He'd really sunk so low that he was being assisted, supervised like a child by Sharpay Evans. If his high school self saw him now, he would be shaking his head in disgust, vowing to never let himself turn into that guy.

"Oh my god. Are you seriously doing that?" Sharpay asked.

"Doing what?" Chad grumbled. He decided to devote his energy to putting one foot in front of the other, instead of bemoaning his bad luck and how almost nothing in his life turned out the way he'd planned it.

"Pining for your lost glory days?"

Chad wasn't even aware he'd voiced that sentiment aloud. Maybe he really was drunk.

Fuck, Taylor was gonna kill him.

"Not that I care, or that it's any of my business, but I never took you for the henpecked type."

Henpecked. A synonym for "pussy-whipped". No way. He wasn't that guy. Troy was that guy throughout the last two years of high school. Gabriella said "jump", Troy said "how high?", while already two feet off the ground. Chad Danforth was not pussy-whipped.

Was he?

"I'm notpussy-whipped," Chad informed Sharpay once they successfully navigated the front porch steps. "I'm just aware that there are certain agreements and compromises a guy has to make to keep his relationship healthy and functioning."

Sharpay gave him a look, one thin, shaped eyebrow arched, as she took her keys out. She wasn't buying it. "Where is McKessie, anyway?"

"Studying."

"Of course", he and Sharpay said at the same time, in the same disparaging tone. Her eyes met his briefly before she turned her attention to sliding the key into the lock on the front door. "It's a shame she isn't here. At least she would be able to keep your ass in line."

"So, I'm not pussy-whipped?" Chad asked, feeling triumphant that he got her, that he finally had the upper hand for the very first time in all the years that he'd known her.

She merely rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You're right. It's a lot easier if you do it for me."

A disgusted scoffing noise escaped her. Chad wondered if the faint pink creeping into her cheeks was a byproduct of alcohol soaking into his brain, or if he was just that charming. Or, maybe it was… Nah. There was no way. She was with Peyton Leverett, the tall film student she met in New York. The story of how Peyton helped her to land a starring role on Broadway was a big deal in Albuquerque, just like Chad and the U of A Redhawks winning their first big away game in New Orleans, Gabriella getting into Stanford University's Freshman Honors program, and Troy skipping town on a one-way flight to New York with Ryan Evans.

Stomach flipping, Chad mused bitterly that everyone else's highly recounted exploits involved them actuallyleaving the state, while he was still rooted to it. Maybe because he wasn't a reckless idiot who let anything other than his head do his thinking for him, maybe because he wasn't a hot as hell blonde with an endless supply of ambition who could get guys that she just met to do her bidding, maybe because he was never granted the special opportunities that everyone else seemed to have handed to them.

Or, maybe it was because, somewhere at the back of Chad's mind, a thought began to take form that he wasn't "so much more than his ability to play basketball".

But, that was just the beer talking. Of course it was.

"So, what's Peyton like?"

"Very charming. He rarely leaves home without his camera." Sharpay replied in a terse manner, like she didn't want to be discussing this with him. She twisted the key and Chad could hear the inner mechanisms of the lock clicking. At last, she pulled the front door open. "Why the sudden interest?" She asked in that way of hers that managed to be both off-putting and beguiling at the same time.

"Sounds perfect for you." Chad smirked, unable to bite back the laugh that followed picturing Sharpay striking poses for Peyton's camera in that ridiculously over-the-top way that she used to pose for her yearbook pictures.

"Please. Like you're one to talk. You've been a narcissist as long as I've known you."

"Was that why we broke up? Because neither of us could decide which one we loved more; ourselves or each other?" The words crashed down with unprecedented weight. Silence descended over both of them as they met each other's eyes. Unexpectedly, Chad felt his stomach drop and a dull ache in his chest, like a wound that never quite healed chose that moment to remind him of its existence.

He couldn't attribute those feelings to how much he drank. And, he couldn't blame Sharpay's suddenly unnerving silence on the alcohol.

"That was-" Chad started, trying to take the words back, wishing he could swipe them out of the air and shove them somewhere to be buried and forgotten about.

Sharpay just shook her head, like she was coming out from under a spell.

"What's going on here?"

Never in his life did Chad think he would ever be grateful to hear Ryan Evans's light, almost feminine sounding voice. Hell, there was a part of him that could have planted a big, totally and completely platonickiss on the male Evans twin's cheek to thank him for coming to the rescue, but he knew that was the alcohol intake talking.

"He was…" Sharpay tried.

"She was…" Chad began, simultaneously.

Ryan's eyes swept over them, eyebrow raised in inquiry. If he sensed something was off, however, there was no indication of it on his face or in his inflection. "Why don't you come inside? It's too cold to stand there with the door open."

Hastily, both of them moved to heed that request. Unfortunately, in their haste, Chad and Sharpay wound up to shoulder to shoulder in the doorjamb.

Oh, this night was just tee-freaking-riific!

Judging from her clearly exasperated grunts, Sharpay shared in his pain.

For the briefest of moments, having her so close to him, the closest she had been since their high school graduation, incited something, reopened that old wound that never closed back up, sent blood rushing to his cheeks, and it was because of that something that he managed to squeeze out of the doorjamb and back out of the way to let her go before him.

His eyes landed on her butt, but he would swear up and down that was not intentional. His brain just wasn't functioning properly.

Besides, everyone knew that Sharpay had the best ass of any girl at East High. That was something that the basketball team was in unanimous agreement on.

Well, save the team captain. The one time Troy tossed his hat into the ring, it was to make a comment that Chad couldn't gauge the veracity of: "I think you're all wrong. It's obviously Ryan who has the better ass".

As Chad re-entered the Evans mansion, Sharpay seized him by the crook of the elbow and pulled him down to her height to whisper fiercely, her eyes gleaming, "You better not have been staring at my butt."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Chad whispered back.

Ryan, who had shut the front door behind them, shot the pair another questioning look, but Chad knew that if he could count on Sharpay to do one thing faithfully, it would be feigning complete innocence when the situation was anything but. Which, under her brother's appraisal, is exactly what she did.

Seemingly dismissing his suspicions, Ryan lead them into the den, where Troy sat on the couch, nursing a freshly chilled bottle of water. Troy craned his neck back at the sound of their approach, and his eyes lit up upon spotting Ryan and Chad.

Chad mused that it was nice to have at least one person be glad to see him.

"Hey, man," Troy greeted his friend, substantially more sober than when Chad had last seen him. "I was wondering where you had disappeared to."

"I had to step outside," Chad said smoothly. "Get some air, take a leak."

Troy and Ryan exchanged a puzzled look. "Outside?" They asked in unison.

"The bathroom's just that way." Troy indicated a corridor behind the main room.

"Yeah, well, using a toilet isn't the same as being out among nature, you know?" Chad didn't have to glance back to know that Sharpay was pulling a face to communicate her repugnance at that comment.

"That… makes sense," Troy said slowly, trading another somewhat confused look with Evans. "I just hope you won't have to get up and go outside every time nature calls tonight."

Now, it was Chad's turn to pull a baffled face.

"I'm too drunk to drive you anywhere, you're too drunk to drive yourself, and it's going for two in the morning," Troy clarified. He added, his voice a bit softer, "I doubt Taylor would be cool with you casually strolling in the door this late at night. Especially when you've had a drink or two. Or three."

Later, Chad would reflect that at least Troy was looking out for him. At that moment, however, only one thing stood out to him. "So, I'm stuck here?"

"At least for tonight," Evans- Ryan said mildly. "We have plenty of spare bedrooms."

"And, bathrooms," Sharpay chimed in, her voice infuriatingly chipper, like Chad's suffering was quality entertainment.

Chad turned to give her the fiercest, meanest glare he could muster. She simply smirked back, fluttering her eyelashes innocuously.

He hated her.

He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until he stole her breath away.

Damn it, he needed to lie down.

Chad lying down was put off for at least another half hour, however. He got caught up talking, with Troy, Ryan, and Sharpay. For a few brief moments, it was like being in high school all over again- Troy laughing heartily at Chad's jokes, his hair longer and shot through with lighter highlights, like it had been during their junior year before he cut it short and dyed it a dark brown, Sharpay proudly gushing over her hit broadway musical, A Girl's Best Friend, Ryan sitting back and smiling affectionately at Troy and his sister, only contributing to the conversation to give one or the other a compliment.

Chad could almost pretend that Troy's career in basketball hadn't been, rather literally, cut off at the knees. He could almost pretend that, come tomorrow, he and Troy would hit the court together and shoot hoops until the late afternoon, that there wasn't yet another wedge driving them apart and forcibly reminding Chad that Troy was the one that everyone loved. Troy was the one who was "so much more than his ability to play basketball". Troy was the one who wasn't just another mindless "basketball robot".

If he tried really hard, he could imagine that Sharpay sitting across from him meant that they were still together. That she was still his, and he hadn't lost her to Zeke, to Troy, to a tall blond film geek from somewhere in the Midwest.

That he hadn't lost her because of the reality that, when he had her, he had been just another dumb kid who couldn't recognize what he had until it was gone.

Eventually, those few, all too fleeting moments passed, and Troy began nodding off on Evans's shoulder, citing his pain medication as the reason for his inability to keep his eyes open. Evans's features darkened with sympathy, and he decided that it was time for them to turn in for the night, apologizing like it was some kind of display of inhospitality to be tired and go to bed before your guests. He helped Troy to his feet, and they made their way to Ryan's bedroom.

"Goodnight," Evans called, falling into step behind Troy.

"Goodnight, Ryan," his sister returned.

"Night, buddy," Troy said.

"Yeah. Night." Chad watched them until their forms disappeared down the hall, taking his short-lived exhilaration with them. He felt a faint twinge in the pit of his stomach that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Maybe it was nausea kicking in as a byproduct of drinking, or, maybe it was something like envy. After all, it must be nice to have an endlessly supportive significant other who wouldn't rebuke you for getting drunk, who came to bed when you did, and who was always down for cuddling.

Why couldn't he have something like that?

Why did Taylor have to constantly prioritize her schoolwork over him? He was being scouted for the freaking NBA, and he still made time for her.

A rustling across from Chad reminded him that he wasn't the only remaining occupant of the den. Troy and Ryan's exit had left him and Sharpay alone.

Together.

Wishing he had his basketball tucked under his arm to preoccupy him and keep his attention off of the blonde that he really had no business at all paying attention to, anymore, Chad stared aimlessly around the room. He took in the decor that, unfortunately- or was it actually fortunately?- he could still recall with the same clarity as the first time he set foot in the place, during freshman year. Time had done nothing at all to blur the images of the couches, the throw pillows, the splashes of color provided by the assorted potted plants setting on top of shelves and tables, the beige of the walls and spotless white of the kitchen visible to Chad's right.

He had been to the McKessie home multiple times, and nothing about the interior of the place stood out other than the framed pictures of Taylor and her sister set on and hanging from every available surface, and the academic trophies both girls had accumulated over the years proudly lining the shelves in the den.

What did it mean that it was the Ice Queen who had left an imprint that time couldn't erode, while the footprints his girlfriend placed down just barely endured some minor weathering?

Chad watched as Sharpay texted away on her phone, head lowered, her long, thick, mascara-covered eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks, blonde hair glowing softly under the lights. He wondered if the person she was texting was Peyton, and, feeling a sudden flash of heat rush through him, sharply cleared his throat.

Sharpay looked up at him, faintly vexed.

For a moment, Chad's speech skills left him. The mountain lion had his tongue. "I just wanted to say thanks. For earlier."

Instead of rubbing his uncharacteristic gratitude in his face, lording it over him, or smirking like the cat that caught the canary, she simply replied with an equally uncharacteristic, soft, "Yeah." Then, in a fashion much more typical to the Sharpay he knew and… "Try not to make a habit of lying down drunk in the bushes outside my house."

"No promises," he teased. Gone was the usual animosity, or mocking undertone. He was too tired to muster them up. "Well…" He stood up and stretched. "I'm hitting the sack."

"Goodnii-iiight," she drew out in a high, sugary voice, wiggling her fingers in a disdainful sort of wave.

"Goodnight," he replied curtly. He lingered there for a moment longer, eyes searching the sparkling pools of liquid brown set in her stupidly, bewitchingly attractive face.

"What?" She demanded after several seconds of mutual staring.

"I can't go to bed if I don't know where I'm going." He spoke with a very slight tinge of condescension, having figured that his mild dilemma should have been obvious.

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Upstairs, second door on your right."

The directions brought on a sort of heavy feeling in his chest. He would be staying directly across the hall and one room down from her bedroom.

And, damn it, he was so sick of feeling a weird weight on his chest, and his stomach twisting. He really needed to sleep this off and wake up in the morning where things would be normal, once again. Where he could go back to unflinchingly trading barbs with Sharpay without feelings getting in the way. He wanted to wake up and go back to being proud of his life, of his girlfriend. He wasn't "pining for his lost glory days". His glory days were right now, and there were even more glory days to come.

He just let Sharpay get into his head, faze him, leave an imprint in her expensive designer shoes.

And, the alcohol probably didn't help.

As he finally, at long last, sank down into the spongey material of a mattress, his sleep-clouded gaze panned over the walls of the guest bedroom and the blankets he was lying on top of.

They were all various shades of soft pastels.

Like the pastel pink she was wearing the day he asked her out.

His last conscious thought was a just barely there hope that these bedsheets would carry a trace of her. And, then a derisive laugh, because… fuck, Taylor was totally, absolutely, definitely going to kill him.