Troy bounced up the stairs, absently humming some song from the winter musical that he hoped wouldn't be stuck in his head all summer. He reached the roof, jumping happily up the last steps, but stopped short when he saw he wasn't alone in the science club's secret garden. "Hey," he called automatically, sounding a little surprised. Once upon a time, the roof of East High had been his private refuge. Now, it seemed, anybody could be up here laying in wait for him. Not that he expected an ambush from Chad.
His best friend turned from the ledge and the potted lettuce that he had either been inspecting or ripping into tiny pieces. "Hey," he returned with an easy smile, edging out to stand in front of the steel bench. He clapped and then held his hands out apologetically. "Hope you don't mind I was borrowing your place, man."
Troy grinned, coming around the stairwell to meet him, "Well, you know I'm renting it out now, so you kinda owe me twenty bucks for every hour you've been up here." He lifted his hand, and Chad swung his own hand out to meet it. "Or are you going to finally tell me that your shocking high school secret is an overwhelming love of botany?"
Chad drew his hand back almost quickly, and his smile almost slipped. "Ha, right. I don't even know what botany means." As he spoke, he dodged past Troy like he was navigating the courts and headed for the stairs. He couldn't do it, after all. He was chickening out.
"Where are you going?" Troy asked, spinning on his heel with the beginnings of a frown in the lines of his forehead. "I wasn't really kicking you out or anything."
Chad stopped, arms swinging, head down. Then he turned and was all bright smiles like he was before. It made Troy smile in response, but in a confused sort of way, like he was waiting for it to be explained to him. "You know, I don't want to keep my dad waiting. I just wanted to come up here one last time before summer, is all."
"Oh," Troy said, eager to accept that answer, "yeah, same here. I'm excited to be free of this school for a while, but I think I'll miss this place." He shrugged, self-conscious, "You know, just a bit."
Chad flipped his head at him, jostling his springy hair. "You won't miss it for long. Not with Gabriella around to keep you busy this summer." He wasn't quite sure if he meant it as a jibe or not, but either way it didn't sound funny. It was more like his tamped down feelings had bubbled up—he had been so ready to let it all out before abruptly throwing the switch.
Troy didn't know what to make of it. He tried pretending it was banter, that it was a joke between them. "Hey, you'd better make some space in your Taylor-time, yourself," he returned, pointing in good-natured accusation, "To fit in some one-on-one games." He mimed his famous jump shot, but his heart wasn't in it.
Chad was still, deep eyes fixed on him. Troy thought that this was what a truly uncomfortable silence felt like, and it was made weirder by the fact that he didn't know why things had suddenly become uncomfortable. His eyes darted around at the flora, not wanting to meet that indecipherable glare. He shrugged at last, giving up. "What?"
"You just don't get it, do you?" Chad's gaze softened, and his voice had a miserable sound to it. The corner of his mouth quirked up sadly, and he shook his head. "You're not making this any easier for me, Bolton."
Troy threw his hands up with an exasperated sigh. "No, I don't get it. Can you just tell me what's happening right now? What did I say wrong?" He stood there like that with his arms out, innocent and unthreatening, genuinely wanting to understand the problem between them that had come up and punched him in the back of the head.
So. It was now or never, Chad thought. A part of him was okay with never….
Chad breathed, gathering himself, and took a bold step forward. His hands came up as if to physically communicate the weighty sentiment. "Troy, I…" At the last moment his courage faltered, and his eyes fell, watching the last of his bravado disappear into the floor.
But it was like he had finished his sentence with clear eloquence. Troy's eyes snapped open as if he were a blind man who had just been granted sight for the first time. Which actually wasn't so far from the truth.
"What?" his voice cracked.
Chad gave him a look that was one part anxiety and two parts irritation, "Dude, don't make me say it again." It didn't matter then that he hadn't managed to say it at all.
Troy shook his head, speechless, as his arms dropped limply to his sides. He just stared with a look in his eyes that made Chad edge towards the stairs, spirits crushed in the bottom of his gut.
"Yeah," Chad shrugged, defeated. He cleared his throat, wishing Troy would just say something so he could leave and forget it ever happened. But there was no response. So he shrugged again, and tried to wave it all away. "Just forget it. It doesn't matter. Have a nice summer."
He turned and started dejectedly towards the stairs, but he heard the sharp sound of Troy's shoes and suddenly felt a strong hand on his shoulder, spinning him. He winced, not knowing what to expect, but then he felt his heart crash bloody against the rocks as he saw Troy's face.
It wasn't a face he'd seen often, only just enough times to know exactly how deep Troy's sorrow had to run to cause it. He remembered looking for it, when he'd caused Troy to lose Gabriella during the signing thing, remembered noting with some satisfaction that he hadn't seen a trace of it.
But he saw it now. He fought back the faint prickle at the back of his eyes, sympathetic tears welling up just at the sight of such immense sadness. Troy's hand fell from his shoulder, and Chad watched with heart pangs as the other boy's shoulders heaved in the effort to keep the body from breaking down.
"Do you mean it?" the question creaked out of a dry throat. Troy's eyes were shimmering pools of profound confliction. "Do you really…?" But Chad didn't even need to say anything because they both knew the answer. Troy twisted away, crashing his hands to his eyes, still not crying. He paced to the bench and sat, then was up again, giving it a fierce kick. Chad watched helplessly; now it was his turn to teeter on the edge of understanding.
"God, Chad," Troy hissed, making half of Chad feel (unreasonably) like dirt, while the other half wanted to punch Bolton in the face. But Troy deflated back onto the bench. He dragged his hands across his face once more before staring dolefully up at his teammate. "Why didn't you tell me?"
That took the air out of Chad like a well placed blow to the chest. Did that mean what it sounded like it meant? He shuffled over to the bench, picking his words as he went. "I didn't know," he offered at last. "I didn't know until I was jealous of her." He tried a laugh, but it caught in his throat. "And I didn't even know I was jealous of her until I realized I wasn't trying to bring you back to the team. I was just trying to get you back for myself."
He slid down onto the bench and breathed a little freer when Troy didn't seem to mind. He cleared his throat again, because it was still too tight. "Why didn't you tell me?" he tossed the question back, with emphasis.
Troy huffed an airy snort that rocked his slumped form. "You were a basketball dude." He shot a brief cracked grin at Chad, but his eyes quickly darted back to the empty space in front of him which was easier to address. "And so was I."
Chad nodded, tapping his fingers uneasily against his knees. He understood that. They'd known each other since they were kids, so there were bound to be strong feelings between them—but when they were old enough to fully understand those feelings, they'd already been taught to deny them. Chad had only wanted to tell him because he feared this summer would be the beginning of the end. He could feel Troy slipping away from him; Troy, who was more than just his captain or his friend, and even if it wouldn't help get him back, he had wanted to throw his hand on the table before she had stolen him away for good.
Troy was thinking about her, too. He turned to Chad, going to apologize (for what, he would figure out when he got there), but their eyes locked and their hearts skipped the same beat. They both panicked as it happened, wild alarms stuttering through their minds, but neither fought very hard, and by the time Troy processed that they were actually kissing, Chad's hand was hot on his neck and he found his own were gripping Chad's knee and the arm of the bench with equal intensity.
It didn't end softly and with loving, awe-struck gazes. Troy snapped back, stumbling off the bench and backing away until the cinderblock shelves dug into his back, trapping him. Chad started at the expected-unexpected escape, but then he was just smirking and shaking his head in something akin to disgust.
"Thanks," he sneered, slowly rising and brushing at his pants as if some task had been completed. "It was nice of you to forget you were only going to feel guilty about it." He looked at his hand and rubbed his thumb across the fingers, trying to remember the feel of Troy's skin for a moment longer. He sighed and glanced over to Troy, who stood shell-shocked with his hand hovering embarrassingly over his mouth.
He looked shocked and confused and maybe still a little sad, but sure enough, it was the guilt that stared back at Chad from those wide eyes. He had a girlfriend, after all. He wasn't going to leave her for his very male best friend, not even when their feelings were mutual and they had vaults of history. No, of course not. Troy Bolton would never do such a thing.
"Chad," he pleaded, "I'm so sorry—"
Chad didn't want to hear it. "I know," he snapped, shaking his head once more before stalking heavily around the stairwell and down it. Troy watched, waiting for the last moment of eye contact when Chad turned down the stairs—but Chad didn't look up.
From the stairwell he heard a faint bark of "He's all yours," and suddenly Gabriella was popping up where Chad had disappeared.
She caught his eyes immediately, and Troy felt the irony stab a hot shard of burning pain through him. He turned away from her, melting down against the railing. Within moments she was a soft hand of comfort on his arm.
"Gabriella," he said, and the name sounded too long and too not-right the way he said it. "I just need you to know—" he turned and straightened and found her too delicate waist with his hands. She reached up and pulled his forehead down to hers, cradling his face in hands that suddenly felt too small.
"I just need you to know what I've given up for you." He didn't mean that, not exactly, but he meant something close, he just couldn't find the words. He blinked and it was like he finally turned the tap on full, and the tears just fell down his cheeks in hot, stinging torrents. Wordlessly she wrapped her arms around him and he did the same, hating himself for hating her for being so understanding. For being so damn nice.