A/N: Okay, this is officially my first ever femslash. Also, in the beginning, they are not actually talking about Sharpay committing suicide [EDIT: I changed that, it was unnecessarily confusing.]. Also it is insanely late and random bursts of inspiration are not kind to me. I do not own HSM 1, 2 or 3. I do have a 10 year old sister who had the second DVD and I'm fairly certain we recorded the first movie on PVR and I watched the third one in the cinema with aforementioned sister. I also do not own the Katy Perry song "I kissed a girl and I liked it" which was referred to in both the fic and title. I also do not, apparently, own a brain or anything resembling writing ability. *shrug* Oh well.

Warnings: femslash/girl love/LESBIANS OMIGOSH WATCH OUT. Nothing horrific, though, just innocent kissing. Also fleeting mentions of other couples of other sexual orientations. Should Sharpay PoV be considered a warning?

The Taste of Her by heartbroken-tragedy (aka Eris)

I glared down at Kelsi Nielson, breathing heavily.

"Get out of my space," I warned darkly. She was too close, far too close and there was no way I was backing away. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"I'm not going to let you leave. I don't care what you say, I won't let you."

"Why not." It wasn't even a question. It was pure frustration, shoved through my teeth.

"It'll hurt people, a lot of people. It'll make people sad. It'll make me sad."

"No one's going to be sad if I'm gone, you pathetic waste of space."

"Zeke would probably kill himself, you know. He's actually insanely in love with you."

"Zeke would bake emo cookies and get over it."

"Ryan."

I didn't have an answer for that, not right away. I gave her the coldest glare that I could manage, my mouth set in a horrible sneer.

"I hurt Ryan. All the time. I'm his twin sister and I dominate his life and make him feel inferior and ruin everything he tries to do on his own. Ryan deserves his own chance at life and I'd do him a favour by just - going."

There was a twist to her mouth that was fury and it was quite possibly the most intense emotion I had ever seen.

"Sharpay, don't you dare try and make this into something other than a selfish escape from your own responsibilities!" she snapped and I was a little surprised. She had never – she had never stood up to me this much before, and she wasn't backing down. She was fighting me. The strangest things seemed to be important to her.

"We'd forgive you, you know." Her voice was soft and small and rough. "I would. We all would. If you apologized, if you admitted you were wrong. It's not – we know you, Shar. We know that you're selfish and arrogant, and that glitter and colour and attention make you insanely happy, and that you sometimes don't see the people around you as anything other than props. We know that you have your own, proud way of showing appreciation and that you don't really know how to be a good friend or how to be grateful and that scares you. We know – I know that."

My face was blank. I needed my usual extravagant expressions; a haunty, superior look or a distasteful glance would work nicely, but I didn't have the brain power to spare for arranging a mask. This girl, this girl who wrote the most amazing songs that almost broke my heart sometimes, this girl who quietly smiled, sitting alone at the piano, and looked more beautiful than any amount of make up and dresses could make me, this small fragile girl whom everyone couldn't help but love, who loved everyone unconditionally…. This girl had noticed things about me, had paid attention. I carefully pulled together a scathing glare.

"I don't see where you get the authority to tell me what I can and can't do."

"I – Shar – I know that I'm not that stupid girl who plays the piano to you." She didn't sound very sure of herself. She sounded like a thirteen-year-old boy talking to a girl for the first time since he'd realised what girls were. She sounded uncertain and nervous and like she was anticipating rejection. "I – I've watched you, okay. I know you. When you admire someone, or when you like them, or when you love them – you hurt them. You – with Ryan. You did that, you hurt him, and with Zeke and with Gabriella and – and with me. You treat us badly and you insult us and you hurt us because you don't know how else to love."

She was looking up at me with huge brown eyes and there were all these little crinkles of worry at the corners and a frown hovering on her mouth where it really didn't belong. The tilt of her head seemed a little desperate, as if she hoped she were right, as if she was starting to think she couldn't talk me down from this metaphorical ledge. She was crazily observant because it had taken me seventeen years to learn some of those things myself and she'd known me for maybe just over a year.

"I know how to love and I know that I'm not cut out for it," I told her coldly, raising one eyebrow in skepticism of her words. "You make it sound so dramatic, really, like you're the actor out of the two of us. All that'll happen is that I will disappear. I'm not going to blow my brains out. I'm just – leaving. My parents are paying for me and I'm going – and none of you will ever find out where."

"You can't, Shar." There was an edge to her voice that sounded a little broken. A little ragged. My fault. I was hurting people again.

((You'd better step away from the mirror long enough to see the damage that will always be right behind you.))

"Get out of my space, Kelsi Nielson."

"You hate me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

She stood on tiptoes like the most elegant of ballet dancers and pressed her lips intently against mine. I stared at her in shock, but her eyes were squeezed shut and she looked like she was fighting back tears. It couldn't have lasted for more than five seconds but it felt like an eternity. I licked my lips, blinking down at her. I was surprised that she'd had the courage. I was surprised that she'd wanted to, after the way I'd treated her.

Her taste lingered on my lips. She tasted like lip ice and salt and heartbreak. She tasted like goodbye.

She stepped back, looking resigned, didn't meet my eyes. I suddenly wanted her to look at me. I wanted to stay, I wanted her to make me understand. I wanted her to ask me, just one more time, not to go.

"I – I'm sorry, Sharpay." She'd dropped the nickname, and her voice was all formal and wobbly. "It – I shouldn't have – I just. Good luck, with, you know, where ever you end up going."

I didn't want her to walk away. I couldn't handle her walking away, giving up on me, not when she'd been fighting this hard. Not when, for some reason, she wanted me to stay. She didn't seem to care that I was the most horrible, selfish bitch to have strutted the halls of East High. She'd wanted to kiss me. I didn't want her to go.

I didn't know how to say that.

I watched helplessly as she walked away, wanting to call her back, wanting her to turn around and look at me damnit.

She paused. She glanced back at me. She was crying. I stared helplessly at her.

"Don't go," I murmured but she was too far away to hear. "Kelsi, don't go," I tried again and she heard me that time, because she jerked visibly and hesitantly moved back towards me.

"…Shar?" she half-whispered, half-choked through her tears. I was crying too, I think, although that was kind of irrelevant at the time.

"I don't know," I admitted to her. "I don't know how to love people without hurting them and I don't know how to love you in specific without bossing you around and being insanely jealous of your talent and of all those songs you wrote for Troy and Gabriella and just wanting to steal you away from the world like some insane, possessive stalker and oh God I sound like such a freak!" I pressed my hand down over my mouth hard. I was definitely crying. I was possibly hysterical. "I don't want to go," I confessed around a mouthful of skin. "But I don't want to hurt people anymore."

((see the damage that will always be right behind you))

Kelsi gently pulled my hand away and replaced it with her lips.

"Don't do either," she murmured against my mouth and suddenly this kiss was different.

This kiss wasn't heartbreak or goodbye. This kiss was salty with our mingled tears and it was insistent and it was desperate and needy and I twisted my hand in long brown hair and tilted her head back further for better access. Neither of us was sure how much to dominate and so we erred on the side of gentle and submissive, turning the kiss into something sweet and passionate and perfect.

I pulled away for a moment to breath, but not that far. I looked down into her eyes and waved a mental goodbye to high heels. I didn't ever, ever want to be too high up to kiss Kelsi Nielson ever again.

"This is," I muttered into her ear, keeping her close and warm and comforting and my hand still hopelessly tangled, perhaps forever, in her hair, and her arms keeping me near and accepting me and wanting me, "this is really Ryan's area of expertise."

"Homosexuality?"

I hummed my agreement. She giggled silently but I could feel her almost vibrate with laughter everywhere we were touching. She let her forehead fall and rest on my shoulder.

"If you start singing that stupid Katy Perry song, Shar, I swear…" she faded into silence again. I could feel the smile on her lips, with her face tucked into my neck like that.

"Shar, don't leave," she finally managed to say, not looking up at me.

I kissed the top of her head gently, before leaning my chin on it and looking out into the night. In the theatre, the after-party of our last ever high school musical was raging on. Somewhere were the whole lot of happy couples who had driven me to slink away and sneak out and run away and leave in the first place. Troyella, as even their friends called them, who had apparently merged into one person. Ryan and Chad, who were probably making out behind the closed curtain. Again. Zeke and Taylor who had been having a very promising conversation about the importance of accuracy and proper procedure, one talking about science and the other about baking. Apparently wonders would never cease. Countless other faceless happy teenagers who didn't hurt people with every word that fell from between their lips.

But Kelsi had seen me go, Kelsi had followed. Kelsi had asked where I was going.

I don't know why I answered; maybe because I was always half in love with this composer and her love songs and her quiet love of the world. Maybe because I'd been waiting for someone to ask, someone to stop me. Someone to hold me close and beg me to stay.

"I'm not going anywhere."