Disclaimer: I don't own HSM or Savage Garden.

"So break me, shake me, hate me and take me over,
When the madness stops then you will be alone."

Break me, Shake me, Savage Garden.

If someone asked Lexie Bolton what she thought of her younger brother, she would definitely say that he suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder. Jane Bolton would probably giggle and shake her head, assuring everyone that her son was only a bit perfectionist. Jack Bolton would glare at his daughter and wife and defend his boy enthusiastically: he had a perfect behavior and knew how to keep his eyes on his target and do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He had the qualities of a winner.

Troy Bolton was smart as a whip and very advanced in everything he did. He liked things to be flawless, not because it drove him crazy if they weren't in the place he wanted it to be, but mainly for the reason that he believed that if he wanted to get somewhere in life, he needed to be committed and having a routine helped him to organize his ideas. Since he could remember, he had those tiny rituals before going to school, playing with friends and doing homework. People could think he was weird, but he got a thrill over schedules. Troy liked them, liked to create them and more importantly, stick to them. He considered himself super normal- some people liked boats, cars, video-games... he liked rituals. For him it was all bout the symbolic value of it, and as long as it was putting his life forward, he'd be very faithful to it.

Troy especially believed in good and bad fortune in life if things didn't go the way he had established and proved by his own methods. So when he did something and it went well, he'd do it again and make it a ritual. It all started when he was eight years old and had this mathematics exam to study for. He had sat down on the center of his room with his book, notebook and papers with exercises scattered all over the carpeted floor. The television was on, he had a bottle of cold water and a piece of chocolate cake on each side of his body, compliments of his mother, that had insisted he ate a bit since he had been studying all afternoon. Troy read and practiced his exercises over and over again, the cold bottle against his bare leg and the smell of chocolate cake filling his nostrils making it possible to keep awake even though he really wanted to take a nap. It was probably because he had studied the subject very much, but when he got his result and it had been more than satisfactory, Troy turned that into a ritual. He always studied on the floor before an important exam, with a cold bottle of water and a piece of cake, you know, just in case. So it was expected that when he started playing ball, he'd develop a ritual before every game too. Nothing bad, Troy assured himself everyday, just really, really necessary. It was for the sake of luck, after all.


Troy Bolton rubbed the pendant of his necklace with his fingers almost mechanically as he waited for the last player leave the locker room. The simple four leaf clover adornment in sterling silver had remained in his family for decades, previously belonging to his grandad and later to his dad. When he turned five, Jack put it on a new masculine chain and gave it to his son as a birthday gift. He explained that the four leaves of the clover stood for love, hope, faith and luck. Since that day, Troy used the chain around his neck everywhere he went, and he still felt naked when he was forced to take it off before every ball game. He studied the necklace in his hand for a moment and put it safely inside the front pocket of his backpack. Better there than lost in the middle of the game.

"Hoops, you need anything?" a familiar sound interrupted his almost meditation, making him look for the source of the voice. He spotted a dark skinned teenager with both eyebrows raised and hands on hips. An ashamed expression adorned his face as he was clearly embarrassed for bothering the brown haired, tall boy in the corner of the room. Troy said no with a decisive shake of his head and the young man chewing on his bottom lip nervously nodded, his afro moving back and forth as in a rock concert, "Okay, I'll let you get ready. See you in thirty, man."

The serious look on his face vanished as Troy observed one of his best friends Chad Danforth disappear through the door. His expression was visibly calmer now that he was finally alone and Troy actually smirked as he fought the urge to pat himself on the back for having the locker room all for himself for thirty minutes. That was only one of many benefits of being the captain of the basketball team. Anything Troy needed, he got it. He had to be alone for his pre-game ritual if he was to win the game and his teammates understood it well, because they all wanted Troy to bring them the trophy.

Troy truly believed that if he didn't follow all the steps he had created when he started playing as a Wildcat, his luck would fly away like a fearless bird. All it took were thirty minutes to make him feel in control of his mind. He had basic steps to follow; first, he needed his lucky boxers. Second, his motivational quotes. Third, his song. Fourth, his routine of exercises. After those things were done, he'd take his shower and dress in his uniform. At exact twenty minutes, she'd walk in and kiss him good luck and then he'd be invincible.

He stepped out of his shoes, stripped off his blue sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts. As usual he was wearing his lucky boxers, the only thing he wore as he prepared for the game. He crossed the room and stood in front of the mirror, examining his reflex on it as he combed his newly short chestnut hair with his fingers. He bent down, splashing cold water on his face and nape of neck and closed his eyes, repeating his motivational speech to himself.

"There's no better man for the job than you, Bolton," he assured himself, "No better man."

He massaged his jaw for a second, reopened his eyes and stared at his face in the mirror above the sink, being greeted by his light blue orbs shining with anticipation. Troy dried the water dripping from his forehead with a quick, powerful shake of his head. He then collected the IPod from the sink, his foot smacking lightly against the cold ground as he searched through his playlist for his lucky song. Finding it, he turned the volume all the way up and put on his armband.

Troy's mat was already placed on the floor in the exact same spot it was last time. He lay down with his bare chest on it, although it smelled so bad it made his head hurt. He could imagine his mother criticizing his action if she saw how old and dirty the mat looked, but again, he wouldn't even think of replacing it when he was sure it had a huge participation in his first victory.

He lifted his body from the ground by pushing with his arms over and over again. The sound coming from his headphones was overwhelming and made his whole body vibrate. His lucky song was so energetic that he couldn't help but want to follow its rhythm faster every time his chest touched the wet material under him.

Troy kept his eyes straight on the wall, not focusing on the lyrics of the song, but on what he had to do. He knew his opponents well, he had watched the tapes, studied their game, played against them before. West High School had a good game, but so did him. Troy was one hundred percent ready to kick their butts, that being his first thought when he woke up that morning. Sighing aloud, he turned around and lay on his back, bending his left and right knees alternately towards his torso. Troy moved his legs as though he was bicycling, inhaling and exhaling. He started to speed up as cold sweat rolled from his face and dripped down his body.

Damn, he loved this feeling. His whole body was getting warmer. He could feel his heart rate increase powerfully. His pulse was as loud as the song he was listening to. Beneath his skin adrenaline rushed through his veins. His sight became sharper, focused. Troy thought about what strengths he had that could make West High look like shit. After a while, his body began to protest as though it was an alarm, so he checked the time on his Nike wrist watch and turned the music off. In a swift movement, he stood up and undressed completely. He headed to the shower and let the cold water refresh his body and keep his mind focused. As he walked out of the shower and retrieved his red and white uniform from inside his locker, he was already visualizing himself winning the game.

When he heard the door creak open behind him, he was still only in his basketball shorts and socks. A slight breeze danced around him, making the hair of his body raise and his stomach flutter pleasurably. Her footsteps were echoing softly, but he heard her quietly closing the door as though it was the loudest sound in the world. Troy turned around and leaned against his locker, as if what he was about to do was completely normal. He smirked as she snorted at his behavior and shook her head.

"You're an ass, Bolton. Why can't you go kiss your girlfriend?"

"She brings me bad luck," he teased, raising a single eyebrow at her playfully. Troy motioned with his finger that she should come closer and she hesitated. She knew he could feel her hazel eyes studying his figure from head to toes and as much as it sucked, she had to admit he had a great figure. Red and white shorts hiding his toned legs and what she swore would be a perfect butt, arms muscular enough to squeeze her dead if he wanted, well defined six packs. His hair was still wet from the shower and although it was shorter, it still covered his eyes a bit as he looked intensely at her, giving him an almost mysterious aura. "Come here, Gabriella."

When his light blue eyes stared at her, she felt the attraction hit her like tons of bricks, strong and painful. Troy smiled, showing his white glistering teeth in suggestion and she nodded up and down, mechanically, stupidly, obliging his invitation as she walked towards him.

"Gorgeous," he complimented under his breath, taking the opportunity to study the girl in front of him. Dark, long hair, light eyes, beautiful lips and cute, tiny nose. Gabriella had curves and knew how to emphasize it in a t-shirt that clung to her body and skinny jeans. She raised her hand to brush her bangs off her eyes and Troy counted automatically how many rings she had on today; one on her thumb and one on her index finger. Precious.

"I'm doing this for Jason," she remembered him as he wrapped his large hands around her small waist, pulling her closer to his half naked body. She sighed and rested a hand against his chest, her fingertips brushing under his nipple, the vibration of his heart sending shockwaves through her. "You know that."

"Gabriella, chill out, okay?" Troy stared into her partly scared, partly eager eyes, touched his mouth to her jaw, traced its line with his lips. He chuckled when she trembled in his arms. "You know you're my lucky charm, don't you?"

"It's not funny, Troy."

"No, it's not." he showered kisses around her lips, his fingers digging into her soft hair, "It's not funny at all, baby."

"I'm not your baby," Gabriella drew back, glaring at him, "Not your baby."

"While you're here with me, yeah..." Troy brushed his mouth against hers as he spoke, "when you're here, you're my baby."

He kissed her gently, but passionately, using his tongue to explore her mouth. He moved his hands to hold her face, deepening the kiss until she relaxed in his arms. Gabriella sighed softly as he used his lips to tug on hers, biting gently the bottom of it. She wrapped one hand around his neck, scratching the nape lightly with her nails and pulling his hair when he teased her into the kiss, "Mmm... my pretty lucky charm."

She pushed him away, gently with one hand and when he ignored her, more firmly with both. His lips had been too hot and too wet and weird sensations were taking control of her body. Troy blazed a trail of butterfly kisses to her ear and she gasped, a little shocked for letting he get that far. She had after all a great boyfriend. "Troy, enough."

Troy rolled his eyes, but let her free after checking his watch again. Gabriella rubbed her hand on her face and turned around, cursing herself for being so weak. "I... I gotta go."

He nodded as he put his Wildcats shirt on, his eyes never leaving her. "Yo," he called when her hand wrapped around the door knob and she looked over her shoulder, knowing what he expected her to say, "Good luck, Wildcat."

"Thanks."

When his teammates came back, they found the captain Troy Bolton sitting on the bench, fully clothed, hair styled. He looked up at his boys and almost laughed at the tension they exhaled. He rubbed a hand on the side of his hair, licked his bottom lip that still tasted like Gabriella and stood up. The other teenagers in Wildcats uniform stared at him, waiting for wise words that would motivate their spirits.

He let his eyes wander, scanning three of his best friends. Chad Danforth, that had tried to control his huge afro with a headband and looked absolutely ridiculous; Zeke Baylor, that was chewing on a piece of gum as if his life depended on it and Jason Cross, a black haired teen with a round face that couldn't stop cracking his knuckles. He was also the guy that won Gabriella's heart over a year ago. And one of his most loyal friends.

Troy wasn't cold hearted, he felt guilty for making out with his friends' girlfriend before every game, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had been going through this bad period and ever since she walked into the locker room trying to surprise Jason with a good luck kiss and ended up kissing him, he had started winning games again and she became part of his ritual. He knew she didn't like cheating, but it was her only fault for turning off the lights to try to seduce her boyfriend. She had literally jumped on him, what was he supposed to do? Even if she had no idea he wasn't Jason, she was now Troy's lucky charm and the kiss that was supposed to be Jason's was now his.

It would only last one more year though. When Troy went to college, this thing of Gabriella being so needed would end for good. And he would be able to hang out with Jason without guilt consuming his insides. One thing he had to admit though; his friend was one lucky bastard for having the girl, because she was hot, funny and was definitely a great kisser.

"So," Chad started, a bit apprehensive, "Feeling lucky, captain?"

Troy Bolton smiled one of his signature smiles and motioned with his head for Chad's ball that was constantly under his arm. He caught it easily and spun the ball on his pinky finger without taking his eyes of the other players, without taking his mind off the prize, "Let's eat their hearts out, okay?"


What a beautiful sight it was to step into the basketball court and see the whole gym crowded, his school's color decorating faces, shirts, posters. Troy especially liked to see Ryan Evans dressed as a mascot, dancing and playing around with the audience. It was intensely funny. Mostly, he enjoyed feeling the change in the atmosphere as the players started to warm up; the audience would go from loud and enthusiastic to silent and concentrated.

The spirits were high when Troy took his players aside and gave them a motivational speech. Quickly taking a look at the court, he pointed what should be done and how they had to remember of team work if they wanted to win West High School. The guys nodded as Troy talked and as he finished, they huddled in a circle and cheered together, "Wildcats, get your head in the game!"

Two minutes into the game, Troy was shoved to the floor. The audience expressed their disapproval with a consistent boo. Jason helped him up and offered the ball that the captain got from his hands with his right one and massaged his butt with the left one, earning high pitched screams from the cheerleaders. He couldn't even laugh at their behavior because he was already concentrating on his target. He got into position, visualized the basket and felt like everybody in the gym held their breaths. He imagined it was only he and the ball, and the mad beat of his heart. He inhaled and exhaled, spun the ball on his finger like he had done in the locker room and shot.

He was brought back to reality with screams of approval and he smiled as he began to run again, smacking fists with his teammates, his eyes searching, his hand itching to raise and touch his earlobe, an action that he had been doing since he met her, since he started shooting baskets and winning games because of her help. It was his personal way of saying thank you for cheating on your boyfriend for me.

Troy found his sister and parents, and he almost rolled his eyes as he saw Lexie sending a text message, instead of showing some support like she was expected to do. His eyes kept traveling, waiting to find her beside his obnoxious older sister since they were friends, craving to see her pretend to be annoyed as he touched his earlobe and offered the point he scored for her with a playful grin.

She wasn't there and for the first time ever, he felt his heart ache as the possibility of Gabriella Montez getting tired of helping him out popped into his mind. If she decided not to participate in his ritual anymore, it would be the end of his career as a basketball player. But worse than that and what shocked him the most, was the fact that losing games didn't bother him as much as the thought of not kissing her anymore.


"So, did you go all the way?"

Troy's heart accelerated. He stretched his neck, peered inside the half-open door, his ears perking up at the sound of his sister's nasalized voice. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, trying his best to silence his heart beats. Damn it, they were so loud. Troy looked back, his hands raising automatically as he spotted Chad looking at him curiously. He brought his index finger to his lips as his best friend threatened to ask what was going on and why his face was probably so scared and pale.

"What?" Chad mouthed and Troy shook his head furiously, his floppy brown hair falling in his eyes as he turned around to study the white wooden door as if it as made of gold. The silence buzzed in his ears for a second, making his sister's last words start to ring over and over again, so annoyingly loud. It was like an echo, not painful, but powerfully distracting. He didn't know how it happened, but every time his ears buzzed, she was there. It was like his personal radar, his ears worked as a device to determine her presence.

He tried walking away, but the conversation seemed to paralyze him, as if it was pulling him closer and closer to danger. He couldn't understand why, but he knew he would be intensely mad in a few seconds, maybe minutes if he was lucky enough to postpone his torment, but he couldn't find the strength to just turn around and go to his room to play video game with his best mate.

"Troy, man..." the dark skinned boy whispered, his calloused hand failing to hold the Xbox controller and the CDs properly, a few of them falling loudly to the floor. Troy Bolton closed his eyes at the same time a quiet shhh escaped his lips, part of him wanting to be there just a bit longer so he could hear her answer. He heard footsteps, heavy and agile and then a skip; he knew the first ones belonged to his sister and the light, almost feather-like ones, to her best friend.

The white door flung open and even if he was still focused on the ringing in his ears, he could smell the scent of her perfume, a sweet soothing aroma that characterized her, today mixed with cheap aftershave that was definitely a positive answer to his sister's question. Troy looked up, determined to study the two girls faces, his heart skipping a beat before increasing rapidly as he observed how they pressed their hands to their hips, almost as if it was rehearsed. Scary, he almost laughed out loud, oh so scary.

"Are you a fucking stalker now, Troy?" the blond, tall athletic girl asked, her arms moving to cross determinately, as though she owned the place and he was wrong to be where he was. Not that he wasn't, he could still remember what his mother had always said about listening behind doors; that he needed to respect other people's privacy if he wanted to be respected as well and all that boring bla, bla, bla. He couldn't care less though, he'd do anything to drive his twin sister crazy. But not now, tonight he was focusing his eyes on the beautiful brunette that was her best friend and the fact that the smell of another male was basically marking territory on her was disgusting. So that was the reason she didn't make to the game? How come he couldn't remember if Jason had been there too?

What a fucking bitch, he thought to himself as he fought the need to shake his head at her behavior. How could she sleep with a guy she barely knew? He flicked his eyes to study her wave-like hair, the trace of now almost nonexistent eye makeup decorated her light brown eyes. Troy was positive that what pushed his last button and made him explode was the huge purple hickey on the side of her neck.

"Do you enjoy being a bitch, Gabriella?" he tested her, the words slipping off his tongue with ease. Troy could hear the bitterness in his tone of voice, but regretting it was impossible when he felt so angry he could just kill Jason Cross, his friend of more than a decade. He saw her body get rigid and her gasp of surprise at his harsh words brought a smile to his lips.

"Not your business, Bolton," the brunette's voice was as low as a whisper and forced him to concentrate more on her mouth to identify what she was saying. Her tongue trailed across her bottom lip and for a moment, as they locked eyes as they considered to turn the living room into a battlefield, his sister and his best friend could have disappeared from the room and he wouldn't notice.

Troy hated what he was feeling right now. He hated the buzzing, the anger and how she seemed to affect him with her bullshit. Gabriella made him feel weak and a Bolton was not supposed to be weak. He held his breath and sustained his stare at the same time he rolled the sleeves of his shirt, as though he was about to start a fight with his worst enemy. His throat was going as dry as a toast as the seconds passed and she kept smirking that stupid, attractive smirk of hers. Bitch.

"Everything you do is my business," he hissed between clenched teeth and Chad, that was still frozen behind him swallowed, loud as a scream, as if he was just brought up to life again.

"Get the fuck outta here, Troy." Lexie, his older sister by a minute and a half snapped, as if she had just popped magically back in the room, just like Chad had done a few seconds before. Troy's dangerous blue eyes focused on his sister, only to smirk at her attempt of scary look. Troy merely tilted his head back, a husky laugh rolling off his throat. Lexie could be freaking hilarious when she wanted.

"It's my house too, remember? If I want to play Xbox here, I'm fucking playing Xbox here."

"Troy, dude, let's just go to your room," Chad pleaded lowly on his ear and Troy cussed quietly to himself. His best friend was always the nice guy. He wished he could be like him sometimes, but as his mother said constantly, he was just too intense. Everything was extreme to him, love, hate, passion. It had always been like this.

"Lex, just let it be." Gabriella's hand closed around her best friend's arm, pulling her along as she offered Troy a sickly sweet smile, "You know how Troy can be immature." she added the last part and his face turned bright red, because only he knew how he hated when people treated him like a little boy. Lexie shook her head and sighed aloud.

"Aren't you gonna answer your friend, Gabriella?"

Lexie glared at him as she followed Gabriella upstairs, "You know what, Troy? Yeah, we went all the way..." she looked over her shoulder and giggled like a sweet girl. "And he was wonderful."

"Gabriella!" Troy yelled after her, losing completely his temper. One of the Xbox controllers went straight to the living room wall, the CDs he carried with him being stomped on as he angrily made his way back to his room.

"Troy? Troy!" Chad stood there in the center of the room, his eyes following his best friend, his expression painfully funny as he tucked his head at the sound of Troy's anger being released in his room. "TROY!"

"Troy, baby, wake up," Troy felt a hand pat him lightly on the arm, gently squeezing it. When he finally came back to reality and sat down, he let his eyes wander around, studying the place he was at. Green walls, beige chairs, red cups on the floor, couch. Okay, think, he suggested to himself, rubbing one hand on his face.

"It was just a dream, honey." the soft voice assured him and he finally looked to the side, the image of his petite, brown haired and green eyed girlfriend materialized in front of him. "Are you okay?"

Troy swallowed, right, all a dream. He nodded and Kelsi Nielsen cuddled closer to him, caressing his arm lovingly. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, focusing on normalizing his breath. Nothing happened, you never called Gabriella a bitch, he told himself, you're at the after game dinner party. You took a nap. More importantly, he assured himself, Gabriella never slept with Jason.

"Wait, why are you thinking about this, Troy?" his mind asked and he felt his heart accelerate. Why was he thinking about Gabriella and Jason's sex life? As he thought about her, his eyes wandered around without his brain processing and he found his friend and his girlfriend in the corner of the room, talking and laughing. Jason had Gabriella's hand in between his and their knees touched ever so gently. For a second, all the rage he felt in the dream came back and he wanted to kill Jason. What was going on with him? Why was he so jealous of Gabriella when he had a perfectly fine lady with him? Troy couldn't remember feeling upset when he saw them together before. Then why his heart ached when Jason kissed his lucky charm? Why was he feeling so possessive towards her?

"For fuck's sake," he closed his eyes and groaned, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"So you're the kind who deals with the games in the mind,
Well you confuse me in a way that I've never known,
You confuse me in a way that I've never known."