Author's Note: After my latest interpretation of the friendship between Ryan and Troy, I decided to go a softer route in this one.
Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical. If I did, Nick Lachey would have nothing to do with this franchise whatsoever.
He wasn't even sure he heard it at first.
Crying - whimpering, nearly, it was so quiet. So he stopped to listen a little more closely.
Yeah, that was someone crying.
He followed the sound to his left, down a dark passageway that looked almost like a cave at first. But he knew it wasn't, because he'd been here before. Fulton had brought him down here to hear the Evans' weird Hawaiian song about that fish-prince-dude-thing. And, oddly enough there was an Evans here - but Troy was pretty sure this wasn't going to be a repeat performance.
Ryan Evans sat on a rock ledge-fence-thing that Troy supposed kept the plants in place behind it.
And Ryan was crying.
Troy stopped, waited, watched. Part of him wanted to go back, to creep away and hope that Ryan never saw him. Guys were guys and they didn't like to see each other cry, after all.
But there was something so hopelessly...pathetic about Ryan that made him stay. Maybe it was the lack of a bemused smile. Or maybe it was the lack of a hat to cover his haphazard blond hair.
Or maybe it was that feeling in the pit of Troy's stomach, that naggingly familiar feeling he felt about five minutes ago, when Gabriella left him crying on the bridge.
Guilt.
"Hey, man," Troy says.
Ryan looks up, and Troy's stomach clenches. Ryan's eyes - blue, just like his - are reddened from salty grief. He looks like Troy feels.
"Go away," Ryan mutters.
Again, Troy very nearly does. But he's come this far - he might as well finish the job.
"No. Now what's up?" Troy asks.
"I said, 'Go away.'"
Troy can't take Ryan's tortured gaze for another second - desperate for something else, he scans the area.
"I remember this spot. This is where you and Sharpay did that song for me."
"Humuhumu."
But Ryan doesn't say anything else, so Troy just stands there awkwardly for a few more moments. Then his heart can take no more.
He crosses over to Ryan, who - oddly - flinches at his approach, shrinking back like a kicked dog.
Troy stops, because the epiphany hits him so hard he nearly topples over: that's exactly how Ryan feels. Like a dog.
Like Sharpay's poodle, as he overheard him say to Gabriella.
Of course, instead of deterring him it spurs him forward, and he eases himself onto the wooden ledge. Ryan has created some distance between them, still flinching away slightly but relaxing a little once Troy settles in and stops moving.
"I wasn't going to hit you," Troy says, determined to stare straight ahead.
"You should."
Well, that lasted long. Troy, bewildered, turns to Ryan.
Finally, Ryan elaborates.
"I saw. Everything."
"You mean - "
"Yeah. Gabriella was really nice to stand up to Sharpay for me like that." A pause. Then: "You should've gone after her."
"How could I have?" Troy croaks. "She wanted to break up. Nothing I said was working - and I don't think me saying anything else would've fixed it." A pause. Then: "I guess you got what you wanted."
Troy waits, stares straight ahead and decidedly not at Ryan, and seethes. He isn't sure why he's lashing out at Ryan, but the fact that Gabriella's just left him is starting to sink in and he doesn't feel like consoling anybody anymore.
"What I wanted?" Ryan echoes.
"Gabriella," Troy says simply, pressing his lips together so firmly that they very nearly disappear. "She's all yours now."
"I don't want her," Ryan says immediately. And then he does the strangest thing - he scoots closer to Troy and puts an amazingly warm hand onto Troy's cold shoulder. "She...fits, with you. Not with me. I mean, sure, she's nice. And hot."
Troy breaks his gaze at nothing to glare at Ryan, who...grins?
"Thought that'd get your head out of your ass."
Troy nearly jumps. Ryan laughs.
Really, truly laughs - something Troy doesn't think he's ever heard him do.
"Believe it or not, Bolton, I'm a teenager. Just like you. I have a sex drive and a vocabulary of four-letter words just like every other guy at East High. I just don't show it very often."
"You should," Troy says immediately. At Ryan's raised eyebrow, he clarifies: "Not the sex drive, I mean."
"So you want me to swear more?"
"I want you to be yourself!" Troy exclaims. The blurted exhaltation catches them both off-guard; Ryan reels backward, raising both eyebrows now in confusion, amazement, and maybe, Troy thinks, just a little bit of hope.
Troy can't believe what he's saying - and yet he knows it's true. The Ryan he got to know whenever Sharpay wasn't around was actually kind of cool. Awkward and weird, yeah - but still cool. And he kind of missed that this summer.
"And here I thought Troy Bolton cared about nobody but himself," Ryan mutters, so low that Troy can almost not hear it. But, as Ryan hoped he would, Troy does hear it.
"I do too care about other people!"
"You haven't been acting like it. You blow off your friends, you ignore your girlfriend, you nearly throw down with Chad...doesn't sound like caring to me," Ryan chirps. He's not looking at Troy - in fact, he's very intent on not looking at Troy, because a grin is creeping along his face and Troy can't be allowed to see it because it'll ruin absolutely everything.
"I've been busy. You know how Sharpay can - you know what? Why am I even saying this? I don't have to defend myself to you!" Troy yells, shooting to his feet.
Ryan's fish is hooked. Now he's just got to reel him in.
"You're right. You don't have to defend yourself to me," Ryan says, getting to his feet as well, "But your friends are counting on you to do something. Gabriella is counting on you to do something."
"Really?" Troy crosses his arms. "Like what?"
"To apologize, for one. Maybe to try and clean up the mess you made. Make up with Chad and Gabriella and everyone else you fucked up along the way."
Troy swallows.
Ryan's got him now. The fish is on the line and out of water - all he has to do is take out the hook and put him in the water pail.
He removes the hook, then tosses the fish back into the water.
"Do it tomorrow. Give yourself some time to think. I know you'll do the right thing." Ryan pauses, then decides to go for it. "After all, you're Troy Bolton. You always do everything right."
Troy doesn't say anything for a few moments. Then he uncrosses his arms, nods, nods again, and takes a deep breath.
"You should go out with Gabriella."
Ryan very nearly drops a nuclear bomb in the water out of frustration.
"What? Troy, we just went through this - "
"You can't bullshit me, Evans. You like Gabriella, and she likes you."
"Yeah, as a friend, but - "
"So go out with her. One date. That's it. That's all I ask. See if it'll work out between you two."
"No."
"Please. I just want her to be happy. Please, Ryan."
Ryan stares into those eyes - blue, just like his - and very nearly gives in to the temptation.
But he's come this far - he might as well finish the job.
"Thanks, Troy. But the answer's still no." The hand goes back onto Troy's shoulder, joined on the opposite shoulder by Ryan's other hand. "You love her. She loves you. You can make her happy. You just have to figure out how. The answers're all inside of you."
Troy swallows again, looks down, and then back into Ryan's eyes - with a glimmer of hope, maybe, Ryan thinks.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. Just another thing Sharpay's screwed up for me, that's all."
"Ryan - "
"Forget about it, Troy. Just...go home. Get some dinner, you must be starving."
But instead of Troy's stomach rumbling, Ryan's does. He blushes.
"And apparently, so am I."
Troy laughs.
"You wanna raid the kitchen for something?"
"I can't cook, Troy."
"Neither can I. But I think Zeke left some cookies in the pantry."
"I like cookies."
"And Zeke's are awesome. C'mon."
As Troy loops his arm around Ryan's shoulders, Ryan tenses. But he calms down as quickly as he can and loops his own arm around Troy's shoulders as they head inside.
Ryan is very, very glad that Troy never found out what he was so upset about. It would have been difficult to rebound quickly enough to manipulate Troy into fixing what Sharpay has done to the talent show. Of course, Troy doesn't know yet that that's what he's going to do, but Kelsi has her instructions. Sometime tomorrow she'll make her move and Troy will figure out - all by himself - what he needs to do.
And Ryan will come out of it all smelling like tulips. (Roses are Sharpay's favorite flower; he hates them.)
He smiles a private smile as they enter the kitchen. Yes, he is an Evans; and yes, that means he's a manipulator. But his schemes do not ruin lives - instead, they repair them. And this one is going off without a hitch.
Troy hands him a chocolate chip cookie. Ryan thinks of it as payment for his efforts.
And after a glance at Troy's open, grinning face? What sweet, sweet payment it is.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please, please review.
