I'd do better than him, Ryan thought bitterly, slouching a little further into the chair he was sitting in, in a fruitless attempt to avoid looking at the vision onstage before him.
Troy Bolton's face was smeared with some sort of smoky black stuff; Ryan recognised it as residue from the smoke machines mixed with the vast amount of glitter that was spread across the stage. His skin, tanned acorn brown, was shiny with sweat.
It was the girl Ryan was staring at, though.

Her blonde hair leapt around her heart-shaped face, her brown eyes lighting up as she pouted and waved her slim tanned arms above her head jokingly, belting out the last jaw-dropping note, and Ryan felt tears sting his eyes.
He blinked firmly, pulling his cap over his eyes and knuckling his cheeks.

He faintly heard "We're gonna run it aga-in!" in her sing-song voice, with the echo of disappointment as Troy hared off the stage like a frightened, stupid kid.

Ryan looked up, caught sight of her, drooping, leaning against the piano. The pianist was leaving too, a faint smirk on her lips. Ryan wanted to punch her.

Sharpay looked up just in time to see Ryan storming towards her, his eyes alight with some sort of sinister glow that she couldn't look away from, and he was onstage and he was walking and...

He grabbed the tops of her arms and looked down into her face. "Midget," he said, using a nickname from their childhood she'd almost forgotten.
She half-giggled. "Ry?"
"Is he going to sing with you?" Ryan demanded, his forehead creasing.
Sharpay shrugged, feigning carelessness. "I guess not."
"Then I will," Ryan said softly.
"Nah," Sharpay said, looking away, her eyes flickering. "'s okay, Ry, you've worked so hard with those Wildcats... I don't need a partner, I'll do... something else."

Ryan had never heard Sharpay give up, ever - he remembered a distant memory of one of Sharpay's dogs getting hit by a car Sharpay leaping onto the bonnet of the car and insisting they paid the vet bills.
"Shar, I don't care about the Wildcats."
"What about Gabriella?" Sharpay muttered, her eyes fixed to the ground. "You like her better than me."
Ryan blinked; he hadn't expected this. "Shar, she's... she's nothing to me."
Sharpay spluttered, her eyes hardening and raising to meet his. "Ryan, you could get in between her and Troy."

Ryan resented the softness of her voice, he wanted to shake sense into her, wanted to slap her, to tell her.

Tell her.

"Sharpay," he whispered. "I don't want to get in between them. They're... they're gross," he said, using one of Sharpay's favourite words. She allowed herself a tiny smile.
"Then why are you helping them?" the strain in her voice was all too clear now - she was either going to start screaming, or crying, or both.
"I thought you... didn't love me any more," Ryan mumbled.
Her eyes flickered across his face. "You've been crying," she whispered.
Ryan opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it again.
"You're hurting, Ry, what is it?"

Sharpay took his hand and lead him to the edge of the stage. She sat carefully, her long tanned legs crossing, involuntarily elegant like a racehorse. Ryan watched the muscles in her legs as she leaned towards him, refusing to look at her face, covered in glitter and tanning lotion. Refusing to lean closer, to smell her vanilla and coconut 'body shimmer' - he'd never understood what she used that for. Refusing to look at the plump pink lips, the darting tongue that crept out to moisten them every so often. Refusing to look into her conker-brown eyes, rimmed with silver and pink liner.

"Ryan..." Sharpay placed a hand on his thigh; he noticed her fingernails were painted the same blue as his eyes.
"Mmhmm?" Ryan was distracted, counting the rings that adorned her fingers. He spied a silver one that he was certain he'd given her as a gift on their seventh birthday, the first day they played Weddings together; Sharpay dressed in her favourite pink sparkly gown, clutching the bunch of flowers that Ryan had climbed the fence to steal from the neighbour's garden...

He put out one finger and touched the ring gently, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. Sharpay looked down and whispered, "For my seventh birthday from my favourite brother..."
"Your only brother," Ryan corrected her.
Sharpay laughed softly. She drew back, sitting up straighter.

"Did you... did you like my song?" she asked, awkwardly.
"You were amazing," Ryan assured her. "The song was amazing. But not as good as Princess Tiki," he added, wishing he was joking.
Sharpay giggled. "Princess Tiki did rock the house," she grinned.
"You've got glitter on your teeth," Ryan smiled.

"Oh," Sharpay's hand went to her mouth but Ryan got there first; he leaned towards her, raised a hand as if to brush away the silver sparkle, then balled his hand into a fist and brought it down sharply on his own thigh. "Got to go, Shar," he mumbled.

Sharpay half stood up, watching as her brother ran towards the hotel, slamming the door behind him.