A/N:

HELLO :)
i'm baaack! hooray! everyone be ecstatic! i know I AM. why, my dear friends? because i have gotten an ENTIRE week off for thanksgiving...or as my world history teacher like to call it, "pillage and plunder from the indians and then kill them," day.

he's not too big of a fan of this holiday. i enjoy it though :) personally, i'm just in it for the food. the mayflower? eh. did you know that the people on the mayflower were exiles from england? i learned that on friday! HOORAY EUROPEAN HISTORY :D

ALSO! I'm so excited because Taylor Swift's new album came out on 11/11! which just happens to be a very cute and lucky day! ANYWAY, her latest singles are "Love Story" which many amazing people have already wrote one-shots about, "You're not Sorry," which is also good, "Change" but that was for the olympics, and I'm not sure if this one's a single, but it's my personal favorite, "You belong with me"

GO CHECK THEM OUT! :D they rock. woohoo!

so, idk how many of you are expecting another humorous story about Troy being an idiot and falling out of a tree while attempting to propose to Gabriella with a sea otter and a bucketful of penguin underwear. I know I was...but I kind of got sidetracked. So, prepare yourselves. I enjoy writing humor stories a lot, but if anyone remembers my story : AIDS, FOUR SIMPLE LETTERS, then you would know that occassionally, i like to dive in the OTHER end of the pool and write something a little more dramatic/angsty so here it is. I'm sort of nervous about this one-shot because, well, it's not something I would usually write. so review :) (angelic look) anddd here you go! :

Hey Baby,

I can still feel your smile.

Though I know it's been a while

since you shined your light on me.

Hey baby,

Tell me why it had to end that night

tell me why, I can only cry,

when I think of you and our love.

It was something hardwretching, something painful

I reach out and you're no longer there

I just want you here again

so I can call out to you and say,

Hey, baby.

He could still faintly hear her giggle. It seemed melodic, as if a symphony had chosen to play their sweetest tune and fuse it with the lightness of her smile. If he closed his eyes hard enough, he could still make out the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed, or how her eyes would light up every time she saw him. It wasn't the same now. It would never be the same. Resting his hand gently on the hard solid band across his fourth finger, he willed himself not to cry. She was gone.

Not gone as if she was on one of those business trips she occasionally attended, but gone. The kind of gone that when he reached over to her side of the bed, it would be empty, only left with simple memories, and the familiar scent of her shampoo. He hadn't washed the pillow ever since she left, knowing that when he would, it would erase her scent forever, and he wasn't ready for that.

He forced himself to get off of the bed, knowing that she wouldn't have wanted him to sulk around like this. A whiff of her perfume entered his nose and he balled his fists up before punching the bed, trying not to let the tears slip. He had to be strong. If not for him, but for the people around him.

He could almost see the night. The night his life had changed. They had been together for four years, married for three. Strolling calmly along the beach-side for their anniversary as the water would lightly touch their feet with every wave, as if teasing gently. She couldn't have looked more beautiful that night. Her hair was so delicately curled and her white summer dress flowing softly along the ocean breeze. He was in nothing but swim trunks, laughing along with her as they would occasionally brave the cold and dash madly into the water. She promised she wouldn't be long as she hopped into their car, off to buy another beach towel and some more candles as Troy was busy setting up their midnight candle-lit dinner. He had kissed her sweetly on the lips before letting her go, making her promise to buy an extra can of whipped cream for later purposes, smirking naughtily at her as she blushed a bright red and slipped into the car. After an hour, he had begun to become worried when she had not returned. The air became colder and he anxiously checked his watch, seeing it read 10:49. Then, 11:35, and then, he remembered with perfect clarity, 1:57 AM. He had gotten a call from her on his cell phone. Relieved, he picked it up, expecting to hear her delicate voice, only to be met with a harsher tone, deep and painful. He was asked if he was a close relative. Only when he replied that he was her husband, did the bomb drop.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's been an accident with a drunk driver. I'm afraid your wife didn't make it,"

He wasn't sure what was going on from there only, distinctly remembering dropping the phone, to be buried with lost sea shells, under the sand. He knew he should've gone to her, gone to the hospital where she must've been helplessly lying there, eyes gone and sullen, no longer aware of her surroundings, but he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything, not the wind as it blew his shirtless body into a freezing cold, nor the burn of the candles as he watched them melt. He stayed in the exact same spot, unsure what to do, watching the candles burn until they became pools of melted wax and wicks. Then, he sat in silence. Not sure how to cope. Not sure how to live. He, at one point, began to debate whether or not to just throw himself into the ocean, praying that maybe it would swallow him up and bring her back to him, but he could almost see her scolding him.

Troy Bolton, what the hell are you thinking? Get back on your feet and go home. Take care of things the way they should be taken care of. Live the rest of your life. Go on!

He couldn't be forced to move though, only when his neighbors had called the police of his absence did he find himself sitting numbly in the back of a police car, being driven back home.

Now, he stretched as the cold hit him again. It had been three months after that night. Everything still felt cold and barren. His eyes drifted to the pictures on the wall. The ones where they were laughing, smiling, or just playing around. He wanted her back. He didn't understand why she had to leave. Why it couldn't have been him, or why it couldn't have been anyone else but her? Suddenly, he heard a gentle cooing coming from the room next door, snapping him out of his grief-drunken state. He all of a sudden, knew that he had to be stronger. Be strong for her. Be strong for them. He trucked his way towards the room next to his. It was painted a faint yellow and in the center was a small crib, adorned with light pink flowers she had painted herself.

"Hey, baby. Is daddy's little girl awake?" he gently whispered before picking up the eight month bundle. He saw her tiny eyes open, a sparkle of the dark brown he had always loved, gleaming back at him.

"Dada," she cooed, wrapping her finger around his nose and spitting happily onto his face. "Dada"

Troy grinned. "Hey princess," he said softly, nuzzling his nose onto the side of her head, in the dark brown curls he had always loved.

The little girl giggled. Troy delicately took her back to his room and watched her suck on her thumb, looking back at him with the innocent doe eyes, given to her by her mother.

"Shh, Annabell. Don't make a fuss,"

Annabell smiled toothily and tugged on his finger, the one with the golden wedding band. He painfully closed his eyes and felt a stab in his heart again.

Be strong Troy.

He could feel her. Right there with him. He felt her. The strength she was giving him, the love and the jittering butterflies in his stomach. His daughter cooed again.

The air changed and suddenly felt warmer. He closed his eyes and let him fall back into the feeling, smelling the delicate perfume linger around, and in his mind, he could see her, walking into the room and smiling happily at Annabell. Clapping her hands before teasing him about what a horrible father he was, dressing their daughter in the ugliest Lakers shirt he could ever find.

"Mama,"

Troy's eyes shot open and looked down at his daughter, who was still smiling, looking around her.

"Mama," she repeated.

Troy felt a sudden heaviness on his shoulder and knew that it was her hand, helping him lift the weight off his shoulders, like she always had.

"Gabriella" he whispered and nestled into the comfort he found around him. He knew that with her, he could make it through anything. He knew that with her, he could accomplish the impossible, and slowly retract himself from the depths of his grief and become the family member they had always planned for him to be. Because of her, he was everything he could ever be, and life would go on.

how was it? love it, should send it into virtual oblivion...if that makes any sense... :)

review, loves!

-strawberriesandsunshine C: