Category/Show & Stance: High School Musical: one-shot, multi-chapter, WIP, so who knows?

Pairing: Hm, a Rypay. Need I say more?

Rating: T? Rating may change later. And my vocab isn't the nicest it could be.

Warning: You 12 year olds probably wouldn't understand this, so turn back NOW.

Shout out to jannikajade and SoulmatesDC, My Stephy & Mally (haha –gets shot-) You guys made (or will be making coughMalhurryupcough) HM stories for me, read and review my craptastic stories and just are all made of win.

I love you guys.

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You go to bed every night telling yourself that it will get better, that in the morning when the birds start chirping and the sun starts beaming, it will, eventually, get better. And when you open your eyes and you strain and pull and flex and stretch you form a smile because you think, it's all better.

And then, you see, it's not at all any better.

So, when you swing your legs over and you walk on down the hall, you shuffle about the house as silent as can be and you brush your teeth, wash your face, fix your hair to perfection and give off that dazzling, fake smile, you think, maybe today, you'll think once again, will get better.

Because she was sleeping right beside you last night and she was gone in the morning, again. Because, you can still smell her scent upon your sheets, your shared pillow, your skin and you keep telling her, if you're going to leave in the middle of the night, shut the door and yet she never does.

You sometimes like to think it's an open invitation for you to follow her, but you never do, because you're sleeping or at least, you lead her to believe that you are and then you stay there awake, watching the ceiling, hearing the soft creek of the center floorboard right before her bedroom door and you think, maybe, tonight, she'll come back, sleep with you till morning and face the situation head on.

But she never does.

So, when you meet and greet the 'rents and you give your mother the daily kiss upon the cheek and your father asks, after you have taken the time to elaborately get your outfit down to every spec of perfection that you possibly could, most likely because she would accept nothing less but perfection, to fix your hat, just a little bit straighter. You look at her and you smile, "Good Morning Shar." And she smiles right back. "Morning, Ry."

And there's that look within her eye that you know is solely just for you, not Troy, not for Ms. Darbus, not for anyone else but you. So, as she says "Come on Ry." And you straighten your shoulders and wave goodbye to the people whom you fear disappointing but know, eventually, you will, you follow her to the car, you warm at her touch when she places her hand over yours and you prepare yourself for another day of scheming, lying and pretending, all to make her happy.

This really, when you think about it, is quite selfish, because, seeing her happy, makes you happy.

And all you really care about is being happy, if only, for a fleeting moment.

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Might continue this, because I'm dumb like that and I willingly totally ignore the abundance of other WIP I have currently to attend to.

If your into this kind of stuff, coughincestcough and Disney, Yay! Check out my profile and stories, I range from Hannah Montana, (yeah, you heard right) to Life with Derek, but the latter isn't really incest, but we like to state as such, to give idiots reason to fuss.