One of the final days of Christmas vacation was what felt like the coldest. Large, fluffy patches of white covered the streets and sidewalks of Albuquerque, and mostly everyone had been quarantined into their homes due to the fact that they would have such difficulty if they had tried to evacuate.

Deprived of something to do, the only person left outdoors was a teenage boy, who was wandering the streets, hands in his pockets, wearing an over-sized black hoodie. The skinnies in which he wore were torn and full of holes, his blood-red converse had been ruined from the weekend where he had decided to hike in the woods, leaving his sneakers permanently torn and dirty.

He was a skinny, long-haired brunette, who had a terrible outlook on life. His appearance wasn't the most promising, citizens who would walk on the same direction as him would later find themselves crossing the street in fear of getting jumped or even killed. It didn't phase him in the least bit, though, he liked to be left alone. He figured he'd be better off that way.

Troy Bolton had been homeless for about 3 months now. He made his way around on foot, the only difficult part was finding something to eat. Troy would go up to 5 days without eating, sometimes more. It was somewhat difficult maintaining a place to sleep, sometimes he would go a few days without sleeping at all.

It was nearing noontime when Troy had decided to take a break, his legs throbbing and body trembling from the cold. He stopped by a nearby diner, one he had passed by several times before but never cared to actually enter.

Scanning his baby blues into the tiny restaurant, he checks for any customers. Finding none, he slowly takes a step inside, hot air immediately finding it's way to his body. He finds a booth positioned comfortably all the way in the back, and takes a seat, letting his body relax.

It was quiet; the only sound that could be heard was the faint sound of the radio, which was coming from the back of the restaurant. Troy leans against the window, watching as more snowflakes began to fall from the sky, creating more white patches onto the ground.

His mind wanders for a moment back to a certain time. He closes his eyes and reopens them, flashing back to the Winter of his Eleventh birthday. Little snowflakes were descending from the dark December sky, there were children running and jumping around happily, laughing as they made snow angels, or did their finising touches on their Frosty The Snowman.

Troy was hunched over, away from everybody else, hands working quickly on the perfect snowball. Making sure he was completely hidden, he aims at the perfect target: his best friend Chad Danforth. He lifts his arm up high, and lets go of the snowball, eyes focused on Chad as he jumps; startled, and flashes his eyes in Troy's direction.

"You're gonna pay for that, Troy!" Chad yells, quickly bending down to make a snowball of his own. It wasn't until a few minutes later when all the other children were hunched over in the snow, hurrying to make snowballs as fast as they could before they could get hit with any.

Troy smirks slightly at the memory, surprised he could even remember it. Troy had mentally taught himself to block out all memories from his past, almost completely, convincing himself that none of that had ever even happened. He didn't know why, but somehow that made him feel more secure with himself. Like he had been surviving on his own all his life, his parents hadn't died, and he was never put in a foster home. His friends hadn't completely abandoned him when his life did a total 360, he had never had any friends. He was alone, always had been alone.

"Excuse me, do you need to order?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Troy turns his head slightly and finds himself facing a girl, probably around his age or younger, with long, dark brown hair and big, round, chocolate brown eyes that pierced into his baby blues. She wore what looked to be a tired, worn-out smile, and Troy could tell she was dying to leave.

"Um, no, thanks." Troy says, turning back to the window.

He waits a few minutes, feeling the girl's eyes still on him. He tries not to pay attention, instead he counts as many snowflakes he can that lands on the window. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14-

He suddenly loses count as the girl takes a seat across from him, and he tries to avoid her hard stare. He goes back to counting, and once again gets interrupted when she decides to speak to him.

"Can you believe it's already December? Where did the time go?" She shakes her head, leaning her head against her hand and staring outside the window like Troy. He doesn't answer her, just merely nods his head in agreement.

"Are you from around here?" She tries again to make him speak to her. "I haven't seen you around before."

Troy shakes his head slowly, clearing his throat before responding with a simple 'no.'

"What's your name?"

"Troy."

"Oh, I'm Gabriella." She smiles, reaching out her hand for him to shake. Troy hesitates a moment, then sighs and shakes her hand. He lets go quickly, putting his hand back into his sweatshirt pocket. Gabriella snaps her gum softly, contemplating on whether to say anything else to him.

"What time do you close?" Troy asks, trying not to make eye contact with her, but looking at a stain on the table instead. For some reason he had the same problem with a lot of people. If he made eye contact with anybody, he had a feeling they could read him. They would know something was wrong. He once had a therapist who said she could read the 'hurt' and 'pain' in his eyes. He never went back. That frightened him. He was supposed to be strong. He would never cry. And he would never show weakness.

"Twelve." Gabriella replies with a soft sigh. "I hate this job. There hasn't been one customer in over three hours." She wraps her hair around her finger and sighs again. "Why are you asking?"

"Just wondering." Troy figured he'd stay there until closing. Better to be there than to freeze to death out in the cold. He needed a new place to sleep tonight, and he needed to think fast.