Invisible

AN: Warning – fairly depressing stuff ahead. I think. I found it really depressing as I wrote it, but I don't know what you all think. I wanted to vent some frustration and chose to write a slightly angst-y HSM… can you even call it Troyella? It's short, and I'm sorry for that.

Disclaimer: I have a list comprising of 103 things I would do IF I owned High School Musical...

She hugged her books to her chest as she walked down the bustling hallways, her brown eyes demurely downcast. Her brown locks were tied up in an unflattering ponytail, and at a glance she was a typical bookworm. The bell was about to ring, and so she sought out her homeroom, treading the familiar route with an almost robotic gait.

She took her customary seat in the third row, second desk from the left. Her fingers ran softly over the title of her current read – "Fire Bringer" by David Clement-Davies. The blue of the background darkened as someone passed by her on the left side, throwing her desk into shadow. She chanced a look up and bit her lip as she saw a familiar figure, clad in the school's red and white, walk to the back of the room. Her eyes followed him as he took his own seat, traced his jaw as he laughed at one of his friend's comments.

Tears sprung to her eyes. She always believed that they had something. She knew that Twinkle Towne hadn't been a mistake; she knew that he had been someone else then. Who was this person who snickered far too loudly at his companions' simpering words? Yet when he turned his eyes from his wild-haired friend to her, she was struck once again by the depth of his blue gaze. His eyes darkened a shade as he saw her sitting alone, her back hunched over her table as if shielding her books from the rest of the world. Then he turned away, ignoring her completely, not even letting a smile play across his lips at the sight of her.

Did she really repulse him so? She transferred her gaze back to her books, caressing them tenderly, feeling the smooth sheen of the textbooks contrast pleasantly with the rougher, bumpy texture of the notebooks. This was all she was good for now. She was truly an Einsteinette, as the Evans had dubbed her when she had first entered East High.

Now, at the beginning of their senior year, she couldn't help but wonder at the justice of it all. Hadn't she always been the good girl? She'd never done anything wrong. Nothing that deserved this intense ache, at least. Every time she looked at him, every time she even saw his shadow on the ground, her heart would throb painfully. It happened so often now, she'd almost gotten used to it. Almost.

Hadn't she forgiven him about the things he had said about her, so many months ago? Now that she looked back, maybe he'd meant those words. It certainly seemed that way now as she watched him push his chair back until it rested against the wall – he was handsome without even trying. She felt tears prick her eyes again and sharply turned her head away.

Ever since Twinkle Towne it had been like this. He was the cool basketball jock again, and she was the nerdy little nobody with a massive crush on him. It was like some stupid romance novel. Except in this story, she couldn't see them ending up together.

The reason? The slender blonde with crimson lips who sat in his lap, laughing at every comment he made, and returned his every smile with a coy blush. Gabriella merely felt tired as she heard the jocks and cheerleaders chatter amiably with each other. She couldn't even bring herself to hate Sharpay, however much she tried. In the end, Sharpay had won. She hadn't.

She couldn't hate Troy, either. She wanted to, of course. But she knew that their distance was all her fault. Everything was her fault, wasn't it?

She had tried to confront him before summer. "What happened to us?" she remembered asking him, watching his every muscle tense with her words.

"There never was an 'us', Gabriella," had been his cold reply. He had pushed her aside, not roughly, but firmly enough to tell her that he wasn't pretending. It was all over. Or was it? Could something be over if it hadn't even begun?

She found herself gazing at him far too often these days. Her eyes would trace his entire body, wishing that she were the one who walked beside him with her hand in his, fingers interlaced. But she knew she didn't deserve it. She had let him go without a fight, and now her mistake came and slapped her in the face again and again and again.

She heard the bell shrill as people poured into the classroom, their babble buzzing in her ears. It was a week after summer vacations and people persisted on talking about what a fantastic time they had had.

She felt like standing up and shouting at them, telling them all to shut their fat mouths. Didn't they know how much their cheery words hurt her? Made her wish that she, too, had had a blissful vacation, free of worry and care? She felt like screaming meaninglessly at all of them until all that was left of her was her voice, echoing around the classroom.

Would they even heed her if she did scream? Probably not, she thought dully as she instinctively replied with Taylor's greeting with a small wave of her hand. She didn't have the energy to keep the limb up, however, and watched it sink back onto her pile of books, motionless.

The day passed in a weary haze, as all days had since Twinkle Towne. Her steps were slow, and her head was forever bent under her heavy burden of self-pity. Nothing was right in the world since Troy was gone. The vacant-eyed, loud-mouthed dummy he had left behind wasn't him. He had disappeared, buried alive under the stress of being the basketball guy and the playmaker.

Her eyes followed him every time she glimpsed him in the hallways, on his way to his next class. They had only homeroom and free period together – and she knew that he never felt compelled to seek her out during either. The arrangement worked beautifully for him, and she supposed she should be happy as well. Her heart would break even further if she saw him more often.

Her eyes were perpetually dead now, the sparkle that had resided deep within them wiped out and replaced with a dreary despair. No one noticed, of course; no one could be bothered to study her eyes too deeply. Apart from Taylor, maybe – but Taylor had never been good at reading profound emotions.

And so her days passed. She would think of him all day, reminiscing the times they had had, remembering all the times he had held her close and comforted her. Without him, she was an empty shell. He had stolen her heart, her mind and her very being – and he would never give them back. She loved him and would love him until the end of time; she would wait for him forever; but he couldn't even see her anymore.