Author's Note: Alright, So it has been a good while since I have updated this story, and written for High School Musical all together. I decided I needed to quit putting it off so here is the first chapter of Sweet Serendipity. Also, my mood and mindset have changed since the original prologue so story may go in a completely different direction. Hope you enjoy and as always REVIEW!(:

P.S. Sorry for a rewrite of this chapter. The scene of Troy cutting his wrists burned in my mind and didn't sit right with me. I just don't see him as going that far, maybe Ryan, but not Troy. So I HAD to remove that tidbit.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL OR IT'S CHARACTER'S. I DO, HOWEVER, OWN THIS STORYLINE AND FICTIONAL CHARACTER'S CREATED BY ME. ANY REPUBLISHING OF THIS STORY ON ANY SITE OR IN ANY FORM IS PLAGUIRISM AND IS ILLEGAL.

Chapter 1:

Troy

I dodge the crowd on the sidewalk, and make my way to my first class. I try to hide my face from anyone who could possible recognize me. I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone today. I just want to get to class, get my assignment, and retreat to my room until time for practice. I groan at the thought of going to practice.

Back at East High I was king of the court. The stadium was my castle, and the fans were my followers. At college, I'm nothing but a mere jester working to stay on second string, something my coach never told me would happen when persuading me to attend Berkeley.

I was promised a full ride and with "hard work" I'd be starting in no time. I work harder at basketball than I ever have before, but I can't seem to keep up. The rest of my team dribbles circles around me, and make me look like a complete idiot. Which results in taunting from them in the locker room, and on campus.

Working hard at basketball wears me out, and my performances fall flat. My voice is giving out, and I'm too exhausted to learn any of my lines or routines. I went from having a lead roll to chorus. The cast, who you think would accept me and understand, avoids any non-required communication with me.

I am absolutely alone here. I have no friends, no life, and my family is over a thousand miles away from me. My friends from high school never have time to talk, let alone make plans to get together. Gabriella is climbing to the top of her chosen school, and never has time to see me. She's one of the reasons I chose to come here. She was close enough that I could have someone to talk to when times got rough.

I walk into the large auditorium-style class room and take a seat to the far right in the front row. I've learned from attending classes that the front rows are the easiest to avoid anyone. I sit my backpack on the ground and get out my textbook and a notebook. If I'm avoiding everyone, then I might as well be a good student. I owe my parents good grades if I can't provide a basketball game or a performance worth attending.

"Troy Bolton?" A soft voice calls from behind me. I groan to myself, and silently curse that I've been found.

But the voice belonged to someone I never expected to see. Ryan Evans in the flesh was standing behind me. My heart quickened a few beats. Ryan and I attended East High together, and he was the notorious Drama King, and twin brother of Ice Queen Sharpay Evans. He was also the only out gay student at school, and was proud of his homosexuality status.

He never let the thoughts of others bother him, and he wore and acted the way he wanted too. To say he was flamboyant would be an understatement. In high school he always had outrageous outfits filled with sequins, diamonds, bright colors, and a matching newsboy cap. His looks have matured now days. His hair forms a small faux hawk, and he retired his hat leaving his hair bare. Tight jeans and a pair of Sperry loafers cover his lower half. While a nice v-neck and cardigan cover his torso. He looks absolutely breathtaking, like he just walked off a runway or a photo shoot for Banana Republic.

I always had a bit of a crush on him, and always cursed myself for having feelings for another boy. I tried telling myself through school that it's okay to have feelings for another boy, especially Ryan Evans. He was able to accept it and date guys, why couldn't I? We would have been good together. Then I thought of all the taunting and bullying Ryan experienced and reminded myself it was wrong to have feelings for my own kind. After graduation Ryan departed for Julliard, and I never had to worry about having feelings for him again, until today. Until this very second.

"Ryan? What are you doing here? I didn't know you went here?" I move my bags and make room for him to sit beside me. I make sure my sleeves don't roll up exposing my scars.

"Well, Julliard was nice and I love performing, but Julliard wasn't for me. Sure, I was good back at East High, but at Julliard I was just another dancer in the background. I just couldn't keep up." Despite the depressing news about Julliard, Ryan still managed a warm smile across his face. "Besides, Berkeley is known for what I really want to do with my life."

What he really wants to do with his life? We just started second semester, and he already knows what he's doing for the rest of his life? I don't even know what I'm doing tomorrow.

Ryan must have noticed my internal rant from the questioning expression on his face. "What's that?" I managed to speak before coming off as completely illiterate.

"Writing. It's a passion I discovered at Julliard. It lets me fully release myself without killing my muscles."

"Alright enough talking, more writing. Instead of a long, boring lecture like you are used to, I want to hear from you. Write me five pages about what you expect out of this class. You have an hour, get to work."

What I expect out of English? I expect to learn about grammar and writing. The basics. How can I possibly write five pages about that? Ryan seems to be doing a good job, he's writing like crazy.

I stop my mindless inward babbling and begin writing. An hour later I end with two and a half pages. Ryan has eight pages. Great. Looks like I'm the only one who wasn't smart enough to complete a simple assignment.

We hand in our papers and head out. We make simple small talk on our way back to the dorms. I find out that he is on the floor above me in the dorm room, and he is going to try out for a late audition in the school's performance of Rent. More specifically for the role of Mark, the role that I had recently lost. Ryan attending here is just going to make me look even worse.

We part ways and I slam my door behind me and lock it. I don't have a roommate, he asked for a new room after one of my many breakdowns. Like the one I was about to have now. I look at my reflection. My brown hair knotted from the wind, my face wind burned, and tears sliding down my cheeks.

"Man up, Troy. Grow up already. Stop being a baby." The reflection yells at me, resulting in more tears. "What the hell is wrong with you? You use to have it all, and now what? You just give up and cry like a girl! You're becoming more and more of a faggot. Grow some balls, and step up to the plate. Stop being a GIRL!"

Before I know it my mirror is laying on the floor, my reflection scattered across the room. A dent is left in the wall from the basketball flying into the mirror. I fall in a heap on the floor and grab a piece of the broken glass and look at my reflection. If ever looked more pathetic than I did now then I'd be shocked. Unable to bare the sight of myself any longer, I toss the glass aside and curl into a ball and sob erratically.

An hour late the mirror is in the garbage, my arm is healing, and the RA is pissed at the dent. "You kicked a damn ball into the wall? What the hell were you thinking?"

That my reflection was right. "I was just horsing around. I was bored."

"Then go do something besides destroying the dorm. You can pay for this with your fees. I don't even want to look at you right now." The RA made his way downstairs fuming.

The entire floor is standing in the hall staring. The walls begin to close in. I feel my throat tightening, and it's hard to breath. I push past them, and head out into the courtyard to catch my breath. After a few deep breaths my lungs begin functioning like normal.

Ryan is in his room at his desk writing, I can see into the opened window from where I'm standing. The wind blows his curtains softly, and his short blonde hair moves softly with the breeze. He seems so peaceful and content with his life. I wish I could be like that. I wish I could accept myself like Ryan is able to accept himself.