Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical. Too much of a hassle, I'd think.

Author's Note: I didn't write this intending it to be slash, but I guess if you look hard enough the slash is there. This scene is set directly after the events of High School Musical 1, specifically on a performance night of Twinkle Towne, although you could probably place it during HSM 3 if you wanted. Please enjoy, and please review.

"Nice abs!"

Ryan promptly turned scarlet and adjusted himself so that Troy could only see his back, neatly folding the shirt he'd just removed.

"How'd you get them like that? If you don't mind me asking," Troy added.

"Yoga," Ryan muttered softly, quickly, taking a few steps backwards and setting the now folded shirt down on the table. Then he slid right to the costume rack, never letting Troy get a look at his front, always his back.

"Maybe you can teach me it. It'll help keep me in shape during the spring, y'know?" Troy offered. Ryan made a noncommital noise as he removed his costume's shirt from the hanger.

He had just put the hanger back when he felt a hand on his right arm and jumped horribly. It was Troy - of course, he was the only other person in the dressing room - and Ryan found himself clutching the shirt tightly to his front, trying to cover as much skin as possible.

"Why d'you keep doing that?" Troy asked.

"Doing what?" Ryan numbly repeated, his eyes darting everywhere except Troy.

"Hiding," Troy replied. "Ever since we started dress rehearsals you keep changing in that little corner and you never say a word. I don't have B.O. or something, do I?" he asked.

Ryan shook his head and smiled a little despite himself, but his hands remained firmly clutching at the shirt splayed across his chest. Ryan left only a hint of his collarbone visible, although he'd've liked to have covered that up too but that would require moving the shirt and he was very, very afraid to do that.

"So...what is it, then?" Troy asked, his face expectant. Ryan finally looked into Troy's eyes and found his mouth spilling words.

"I...I don't know. I guess...I'm not used to changing in front of people," he blurted.

Troy smiled. Ryan couldn't tell what that meant.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me, Ryan. I'm not going to make fun of you or anything," he reassured. His face froze for a moment and it looked to Ryan like a thought was coming into his head. Ryan had seen that expression on Sharpay's face so many times that it was easy to spot it on Troy's, although since he was used to Sharpay's hare-brained schemes he found himself getting extremely apprehensive. He inched the shirt up just a little to try and hide his collarbone.

"Put the shirt down," Troy ordered.

Ryan couldn't find Troy's eyes, instead deciding to stare determinedly at Troy's shoulder, knowing that his own eyes had to be screaming his fear.

"Ryan, look. Have I ever been mean to you?" Troy asked.

Ryan searched his memory and, to his surprise, couldn't find any moment where Troy had even come close to the things other people had said to him. The worst thing Troy had probably ever done to him was steal his part in this musical, and even then he'd been doing it for Gabriella, not to spite Ryan.

So Ryan slowly shook his head. Troy smiled again.

"So let me see what you're hiding under there," Troy wheedled, gesturing at the shirt. Ryan swallowed and looked down at the shirt, and with shaking hands inched it to the side, slowly, bit by bit.

Then, for some reason, impatience maybe, Ryan flung the shirt away and onto the nearby table, not caring that it wasn't folded, not folding his own arms over his torso to hide it, just staring resolutely at the floor.

The stare lasted about three milliseconds, because as soon as Ryan heard the gasp his head yanked itself up on its own accord and he found himself staring into those eyes for just the second time.

This time, Troy looked captivated. There was no other word for it - or maybe there was: jealous. Troy's hand twitched slightly before he let it fall back down to his side, almost as if he wanted to run a hand over the body that had just been revealed to him but had thought better of it.

"Ryan, you look..." Troy trailed off and Ryan winced, shutting his eyes reflexively. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but...you're beautiful, man."

Ryan opened his eyes back up and gawped at the boy in front of him. Troy smiled.

"You are! You've got killer abs, nice pecs, nice light arms for a guy your size, good shoulders, and of course you're handsome as it is. You're just perfect, Ryan Evans," Troy said. Ryan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And of course I hate you for it," Troy added with a saucy grin and a wink.

It took Ryan a moment to realize Troy was kidding and before he could help it a laugh came tinkling out of his mouth, light and thankful and happy. Troy seemed to light up at this too and gave his own laugh, short and loud but still happy, Ryan could tell, he could hear the abstraction leaking from Troy's voice and smile and eyes.

And then, before he could stop it - Troy seemed to have that effect on him - words were pouring out of his mouth again.

"I was fat," he said bluntly. Troy's smile faded but he didn't let himself be disgusted, Ryan noticed. He looked more...

Concerned?

"When I was little I was fat and the kids always made fun of me and I had asthma and I couldn't run around the playground like they did. And gym was always horrible. We started changing in fifth grade for it and they always made fun of me and poked my stomach and called me names. So after a while I just didn't change at all, or when I did I'd wait until they were all gone or weren't there yet or hid in the bathroom to do it. And I only changed when I was playing Little League.

"They always liked me then because they stuck me on the mound so I wouldn't have to run anywhere. I was really good - y'know, for a kid. Then we'd go off to change and they'd make fun of me again.

"When I was in seventh grade, Sharpay wanted a dancing partner to help her practice for the musicals and after a while I was getting thinner. Plus Sharpay wouldn't let me eat any of her ice cream or cookies or anything anymore because she told me I'd cramp up if I did. 'Course she was lying, but it worked anyway and when we moved out here for freshman year nobody knew I used to be a stupid fat kid."

Then Troy's arms were gripping his shoulders and Ryan flinched immediately before remembering that this was Troy and Troy wasn't going to hurt him like the other boys had. He found Troy's eyes for the fourth time and saw a determined seriousness.

"I meant it when I said you were perfect, Ryan. And yeah, I meant your body, but I still think you're a nice guy. And since you're a nice guy you deserve a little attention. So don't be afraid to show off what you've got. Nobody's gonna laugh at you," he promised. "And if I see anyone laughing, we'll kick their ass."

Ryan laughed a little again at that and finally nodded. Troy gave him a quick squeeze on his shoulders and stepped away, stripping off his own shirt so he could get into costume. Ryan grabbed his own and wriggled into it, all the while wondering something and since he didn't seem to have control over his tongue anymore it came spilling out.

"Why d'you care so much?"

He noticed Troy froze midway through buttoning his powder blue button-up.

It seemed to Ryan that Troy's eyes were stuck to the floor.

What Ryan didn't know was that a scene was playing out in Troy's head, a scene Troy was sure Ryan would be able to see if he looked him in the eyes.

"Shower up, boys! Activity bus'll be here in 30."

With a blow of the whistle the boys jogged off to the locker room. Troy was ecstatic. He was a freshman and on the varsity team - and he'd done pretty well today! He hadn't dropped the ball when they passed it so hard to him and he even got past a couple blocks for some lay-ups. Of course he'd been knocked over more times than he could count but that was all part of the game.

He was in front of his locker with his shirt and his socks and his shoes off and was just reaching to take off his shorts when it started.

"Outta my way, Bolton."

A senior, Isaac. The point guard. Absolutely amazing. Troy scrambled out of the way and couldn't help but gawk a little at him. Isaac was naked and heading for the showers. He looked around quickly and saw the rest of the guys were naked, too.

He was just going to change and wait in his Dad's office until he was ready to take him home, just like Dad had said they were going to do. The guys had other plans.

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Afraid you're not gonna measure up?"

"Coach's kid, Brad. Probably feels like he's better than the rest of us."

"Scrawny little asshole."

"Get your ass over here, Bolton. We'll show you what a real one looks like."

Until Chad and Jason and Zeke and the other guys were able to join the team his sophomore year, he went straight to his Dad's office no matter how sweaty he'd gotten. It didn't help him on game days but he was always early to practice so he could change and be on the court before anybody noticed him naked - before anybody noticed the bruises.

"I just know how it feels to wanna hide yourself," he said simply, and resumed buttoning up his shirt.

Ryan frowned a little at that but pulled on the rest of his costume. Neither boy said anything else, keeping to their own sides of the room as they applied foundation and blush and lipstick. Ryan had just finished his eyeliner and was going to head out to the green room where the actors would be assembled when Troy spoke up.

"Ryan, I suck at 'liner. Can you help me?" he asked.

Ryan didn't even have to think. The pencil was in his hands and he stepped in between Troy's open legs so he could be close enough to see what he was doing.

"Close your eyes," Ryan commanded and slowly, easily drew a line on the top of both of Troy's eyelids. Troy, to his credit, didn't flinch at all.

"Open," Ryan ordered. Troy's eyes shot open and for the fifth time they locked eyes. Ryan gave a little smile without knowing why. "Look up at the ceiling."

Two half-lines underneath both of Troy's eyes were drawn. Now for the overall.

"Look at me," Ryan said, and Troy did so. Ryan looked very carefully at the eyes looking very carefully at him. "Perfect," he announced, stepped back out of Troy's legs and gaze, and put his make-up away. For some reason he didn't want to leave the room anymore. Troy was just too interesting.

First of all, guys didn't get all mushy on each other like that. He knew that, he'd watched them enough - they were more apt to tease each other, not build each other up. They weren't the type to reach out to boys like Ryan, especially not jocks like Troy Bolton. And even if they did, they certainly wouldn't say things like that.

Troy was finished getting ready and was heading for the door. Ryan figured it was now or never.

"Troy."

Troy stopped and turned around, all innocence. Ryan met his eyes for the seventh time and smiled his best grin, the one that Sharpay said once could light up the stage all on its own. (He thought she was being a little cheesy at the time, but then again that was Sharpay.)

D'you wanna hang out sometime? Maybe play some video games at my house? Work together on that big poetry project for English? Go shopping for birthday presents for Sharpay and Gabriella? Or just talk in the green room?

Instead of these things he wants to say, something else comes tumbling out, and although he's just as embarrassed to say it, he's happy he does:

"Thanks."