Explanation: Okay. I was supposed to finish my Adam and Eve Grey's Anatomy fic this week. I really was. I was going to finish last night, with inspiration from the season finale. But the angst killed me. Seriously, me, the angst whore of fandoms, I was completely devastated by the scene of Cristina getting cut out of her wedding dress. So I'm writing some remedial Chadpay.

Dedication: This is dedicated to Jen, aka StarVitamin, who told me a long time ago to write a Chadpay with a happy ending, and also write an angsty Chadpay so she can clean her room. Here it is, Jen. An angstish Chadpay with a happy ending so you can finally clean your room. Love ya!

Disclaimation: It's all Disney's.

Chad and Sharpay never cheated to hurt each other.

It was just an inevitable thing. Wasn't it? They were too lively, too...exciting, type-someletter personalities. And they were perfect for each other, too perfect, although being too perfect was impossible when perfect didn't exist to begin with.

It was like...Rachel's vanilla on "Friends." Vanilla is great. It's delicious and it's simple and it goes with everything.

Sometimes, though, you just want pistachio.

And sometimes, eating pistachio ice cream comes back to bite you in the ass.

"It's different with me," Sharpay explained. "Kelsi isn't my best friend."

"No, that's not it."

"And I'm a girl, though that should go without saying." And maybe that was it, that he was a guy and she was a girl, and for once it was better if you were a girl.

There was a double standard here, only the parts were switched and water was floating and he was the one who was confused and she was the one who...wasn't.

But neither of them had been confused before, so maybe it wasn't the huge role reversal it was supposed to be...

I'm guessing you are over me, I guess it's bravery
So pick out what you like, call me when you're on the way

She called him. Which was a surprise, because she never called, and he heard her voice, fragmented over a few thousand feet, barely strong enough to vibrate the quartz in his hand, and he knew.

She only said "Chad!" in that tone, that sounded so far away but was right next to him, so true it was almost fake, and then the line went dead.

He called back immediately, got a busy signal, hung up, dial again, keypads beeping a horribly off tune song, totally unsuited for her but matched her non-gravelly voice perfectly when she picked up again.

"Sorry," she said, the same smoothness communicating through thin wires, like satin or velvet or a threadbare shirt. Double-churned ice cream, only fat-free and robbed of everything that made it ice cream. "Must have dropped the call."

"I didn't get in either," he told her.

"I wasn't talking about that."

Silence fell, dark curtains over an abandoned stage, and for a second, he almost believed her. "Oh," he said...

It's like a, a ball and chain around your waist or this simple state
You can spend the night, and hope to sleep all day

She didn't get in, either, but that really wasn't why she called that day. Sharpay never told him why she did, and he didn't ask, because the whole reality of not getting in was here, and that felt more important.

What did you do with a dream that you knew was unattainable, when you shot out for the stars and ended up back on Earth? You threw it away. Or you saved it for later. But neither of them learned how to save anything for later, and throwing it away seemed impossible.

"So I guess we're both going to UNM," Chad offered weakly.

"No place like home," she said quietly. "How's Troy doing?"

He flinched, but she pretended that she didn't intend for him to. Of all the people he's chosen, this one bothered her the most, and she couldn't explain why. "He's...happy."

"Is he happy that he's going to Florida or that you're not?" It should hurt, those words, like hot searing silver knives burning off skin, but they didn't. The dull ache from the burn never stayed, flesh washing quickly off the blade.

"I don't know. What about Kelsi?"

"She's going to San Francisco. And yes, she is." Sharpay smiled, full teeth, a kid's smile right before biting off the top of an ice cream cone. "I think she's a little damaged."

And that was the difference between them, that he cared about the damage and she didn't...

This can't be how you live...your mind's sick again
With your scent on my face I can leave, and have you for days

They were broken up, sort of, but they saw each other every day because of a freshman seminar class.

It was a mutual thing, when they both started cheating just to hurt each other, and Sharpay said, quite plainly, "Now we're getting destructive."

So instead of being destructive together, they destroyed the rest of the student body, and then one day he drove up next to her and told her to get in. "You sound like a rapist."

"Well, I'm not. So get in."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

"Persistent state of mind for you." But she got in anyway, and they didn't know where they were going, so he just drove and drove until the moon shone clearly in the sky, and he realized that she was asleep, sort of, ice cream that had melted but still insisted on moving around in a huge clump of vanilla. Not completely unconscious but not coherent.

"We're horrible people."

"Mm," she said noncommittally. They had stopped beside a red hill, the last landmark for a while outside this city. "We better go. Sun is up."

They were horrible people. Sharpay was a bundle of dark roots and caffeinated consciousness, and Chad was a nervous meltdown waiting for the snack machine to break, and they were still horrible people...

Well cos it's black out the window, while you're asleep in the passenger seat
And as you breathe the words I better go, the sun is up and taking back all the shadows

"This is stupid," Sharpay said, the fifth or sixth time he coerced her out to the hill, their new special place. Friends who hurt each other needed special places. "We can drive forever but we'll never get away from here."

He agreed, but didn't say so. "I thought we were supposed to be happy." He wasn't referring to their break-up.

"People like to believe in fate," she explained. "If they didn't get what they wanted, it was a sign. That they'll love what they actually get."

"So we're both disillusioned."

"Were we illusioned to begin with?"

Chad sighed. "No." There was a saying somewhere, about a dream deferred, but he couldn't bring himself to remember what it was. Like taste of pistachio ice cream lingering, but you haven't had ice cream in a long time. "I miss you."

"I'm right here."

That wasn't what he was talking about, but she pretended not to notice, and maybe he just wasn't thinking right at the time. Maybe it was just longing for a few years ago, when things like deferred dreams never crossed his mind...

It seems we drive forever but can never get away from here—just one more try
And it's dark in the winter so your ideas start to sleep

She held a sheet of paper in her hands, knuckles tight, sitting hunched over it on the sandy hill to keep it away from the wind. In the dim light from the stars, Chad could see dark lines running across it, ice cream dripping down waffle cones, probably letters, but he already knew what it said.

"You shouldn't."

"It's New York," she rasped, her voice so unused to sound today that it seemed she'd never sung in her life. "Arts college. I could...sing and dance and learn how to teach it to children."

"You're not that nice. And you shouldn't."

"I would get in."

"But you shouldn't."

She let the exchange application drop between her feet, bare and speckling in the cool night air on top of the sand. "I know." What was it about a dream deferred? It dried up in the sun like a raisin.

"I picked up a basketball today."

"Did your wonderful skills come rushing back?"

"Did yours?"

"I haven't danced in a while." He nodded. She wasn't lying. "So did they?"

He took the piece of paper from her, made to tear it. "No." He didn't, though. Just because his dream was broken didn't mean he could break hers. Even if it was already dead.

There were some things that shouldn't be pointed out, even if everyone knew it was true...

Well your head is spinning like that carousel and I know you're a mess after three or four,
We sit and we breathe, cos I know all the words and I sing you everything

Chad stepped into Sharpay's dorm room. Strewn with clothes, make-up (cheap according to her standards, but she rarely wore it anymore so it didn't really matter), jewelry, a misplaced hair-straightener. Her roots were touched up, her nails freshly manicured.

He hated to admit it, but she looked better. "So you are going."

"I am." He thought he should be angry, but he wasn't. Proud, maybe. Hopeful. Vicarious. Looking at a giant tub of cheesecake ice cream behind the glass of Coldstone and imagining the taste. Maybe tipping the bucket so that those poor people would have to sing.

"That's good. For you."

"No, it's not. I'm just going to get my hopes up again and then get shot down. It's something I have to do." She tossed the hair-straightener into a cramped duffel and zipped it up.

"Okay."

"It's only for two semesters, so. I'll be back soon. Try to enjoy it while you can." Sharpay kissed him once, friendly, chaste, or would have been if she was ever in the habit of touching him to begin with.

She acted nonchalant about the whole thing, but underneath it all, she still wanted the stage and the lights and the make-up and the fame. She wanted someone to BeDazzle her cell phone for her. What happened to a dream deferred? It exploded...

But if you make it different then we'll make our way to the surface,
And your favorite place

Sharpay called him, which was weird, because she still never called him. Her voice came clear over thousands of miles, tired but happy, and he felt a little happy, too. "New York is nice."

"Cold," he said in return. He played with the empty Dixie cup in his hand, splintering it into four equal parts like Sharpay used to do. One for each corner of the country. Kelsi, him, Troy, Sharpay. Funny how those were the first names to his mind.

"Yeah. But hard to leave."

"Do you want to leave?"

"A little bit. But it's the city."

"It's in your blood," Chad told her, a little harsher than he intended, or maybe not harsh enough. Frost steaming off an ice cream scoop, almost freezing against the warm tongue that touched it. But only almost.

"It is. Sometimes I wish it wasn't."

"I'll come get you."

Silence fell, shock before the applause, audience waiting on edge for the curtain call so it could really show its appreciation. "Not yet. I still have a few months."

He didn't know if she meant for him to pick her up at the airport or to actually go all the way to New York, and in the end, it didn't matter.

Months sort of blurred without their aimless drives, and there wasn't a bigger aimless drive than one from the desert of Arizona to the ocean of New York...

Oh when it's always on your mind, but you never speak of the name,
It's in your blood and your face and I'm certain it's fame

"Was it fun?" he asked her. She was driving now, because he'd been subsiding on coffee for the past two days and wasn't used to it like she was.

"Yeah. There was a guy who lived down the block. Every Easter Sunday, he dresses in a pink tutu and goes to midtown Manhattan to mess with the tourists. A six-foot tall, testosterone stinking man. His way of keeping sane."

"How?"

"He gets all the insanity out in one day. And it's perfectly acceptable. Can't do that back home." The word 'home' slipped out of her lips, painted liquid red, blood if blood didn't congeal, and not as thick. She knew immediate what she said, and frowned. Had they always been that color?

"Wouldn't care to try, would you?"

"I'm a girl, Chad. It's perfectly acceptable for me." And there was the double standard again, wanting to try pistachio but knowing that no one actually liked it. Except maybe that didn't work this time, because he'd never wanted to wear a tutu, and still didn't.

He scanned the sides of the desolate highway, wondering how acceptable it would be at a place like UNM. "Rest stop?" he asked, eyes picking out a blue sign that shone like a lighthouse in a sea of despair.

"I'm good."

"No, for me. I need to go to the bathroom." She shrugged and pulled off the road half a mile later. "Aren't you getting out to stretch?" He held his door open, head lowered under the sloping roof. Moist, dead air filtered into the car, and Sharpay shook her head.

"The weather's getting to me. Close the door."

Maybe she was supposed to be in New York, after all. Moist, dead air in the city was still different from moist, dead air in the desert (of Kansas, but the desert nonetheless.) At least in New York, there were ice cream shops in case the air got a little too dead...

So I stayed out in the car, cos the weather had gotten to me
But it's really these road signs and freeways that I can't take

They trudged up the hill again, the first time in two semesters. The beginning of a new school year, the end of a summer, and she still hadn't told him what she did in New York. She talked about her neighbors, her classes, some shows she saw, the Museum of Modern Art, but not what she did.

Something about the summer lost it for her. Maybe it just felt too much like the first summer, and she still hadn't given up while he was busy thinking about an economic degree of some sort. They never cheated to hurt each other, only this time they were the only humans involved. And they weren't cheating, since they weren't in a relationship.

She shed her shoes, carefully tipping a few grains out of the heels she'd found in New York.

"It was lonely," she said.

"Huh?"

"New York. There were all these people, on the subway, in the streets, in the restaurants, eating with me, talking to me...but it was lonely. Scorsese once said that. The only way to show loneliness is in a crowd."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Funny how she felt lonely in New York, with all those people, but not in New Mexico. Not on that desolate highway drive fueled by insomnia and crumpled Red Bull cans. "I missed you."

"But you liked it?"

"I'd go back. Maybe during Christmas...or not. Thanksgiving. My parents won't care. They've already disowned Ryan for getting a boyfriend." Chad always knew, but this sort of revelation was still surprising. It was like finding gummi bears in the middle of a sundae. Gummi bears were good, but still, you didn't ask for them.

She started humming. Not a song, not really, no notes that strained those pursed lips. But it was a tune, and it was pretty in a simple, predictable way. If he knew the tune, it would be predictable, anyway.

Sharpay Evans was never predictable, only in the sense that she was always unpredictable.

But in the end, being unpredictable was tiring, and besides, lullabies only sound like lullabies when you want someone to go to sleep...

I still can't see you,
The summer came, and we got lost, all of us.

"I saw Troy," she mentioned.

He didn't flinch anymore, this time only angry. "Why?"

"Well it's not like I can pop out my eyes whenever something remotely Bolton-like comes near."

"Stop it." Sharpay stirred the sand with her finger.

"I didn't know it was him until—"

"Sharpay." She looked up, pure innocence on her face, confusion, no malice. She hadn't acted in a while, but it was still good.

"It's not about Troy, I swear. Or New York. Or...or basketball, or the fact that Thanksgiving is coming up."

"Let's go," Chad said.

"Go where?"

"To the great big New York City. Let's go forever. Let's quit school. We'll just skip the last year and go and never come back."

Stars in her eyes, maybe, sparkles on the curve of a perfect scoop of ice cream. "Why?"

"There's nothing left in New Mexico. There never was anything here. We just..."

He didn't finish his thought, but sometimes, you didn't need to say things out loud...

I'm tasting nothing but four words, "Please don't leave me."
Well they're just thoughts, so go ahead and speak

What happened to a dream deferred? It crusted and sugared over, and when you picked it off, the scar was smaller than you remembered it, and it didn't hurt so bad.

And sometimes, pistachio ice cream didn't come back to bite you in the ass, and maybe you found a new favorite flavor.

"This is your city?" Chad asked. They stood on top of her apartment complex, unable to see anything because the huge buildings around it blocked what little stars they could see anyway.

"Yeah. Ugly and smelly and lonely. But it's good. It's a...it's in my blood. I'm stage managing nearby." He turned around to face Sharpay.

"You already got work?"

"Everyone needs a stage manager. You can't live in a place like this on a student budget. And if you're part of a hit, even the fog machine boys get the benefits."

Chad nodded. "I need a job." He had decided, then, that he would stay.

"You're a charmer. You'll find one. Maybe on Wall Street." She noticed, then. It was the first time she actually had confidence in him. That was a lie. She always did, maybe. Maybe the first time she expressed it without a sneer.

He ran his eye over the city landscape, lights lights lights. The moon was barely visible. Cars in the distance, zooming, almost rhythmic, and he realized that she was humming again. "This place never sleeps."

"We never slept." Maybe the words should have been reminiscent of something, of college or high school or boyfriends and girlfriends, but they only translated into three other words that would never dance from her lips.

The city spoke, softly, hummed them to sleep in the apartment.

Sometimes, the scene ended before you want it to, and the game turned out horribly wrong, and you hated it. But maybe it was just better that way. You could go back and change it in your mind as many times as you wanted and still live without drowning in it...

Stay to watch that moon disappear under these lights,
And the city, the city screaming at me

So it didn't really make sense. But it fulfilled all my goals for this fic, which was to get the angst out of my system by writing pseudo-angst. The whole ice cream simile motif? no idea where it came from. No idea. "Dreams Deferred" is a poem by Langston Hughes. The lines in italics are lyrics from the song "It's in Your Blood," by Lydia, which is a wonderful, wonderful band that I wish would make a new album and stay indie forever it's that good. The lyrics are out of order, though, so you can't really...listen along.

Okay. I'm going to go recover from my Cristina trauma. If you want to lj me, I might post a reason as to by I'm so devastated.

In the meantime: review!